Pride and pyramids : Mr. Darcy in Egypt

Chapter 3

Elizabeth and Darcy agreed not to tell the children about the Egyptian trip at once, as the thought of six overexcited children was rather too much of a good thing, but they discussed it with Edward at the earliest opportunity. Elizabeth was not sure how he would take the news, whether he might think they were interfering, but she need not have been concerned, for he was enthusiastic about the idea.

“It seems only fitting that the two of us should go together,” he said to Darcy. “After all, it is what our fathers did.”

“If only we knew the name of the third member of their expedition, we could invite his son, too,” mused Darcy.

“I did not know there were three men in the original party,” said Elizabeth, who had not heard it mentioned before.

“Yes, there is a portrait of all three of them,” said Edward. “I found it on a wet afternoon when I explored the attic. It was covered in dust and had obviously not been good enough for my father’s refined tastes or he would have hung it in his study. The three men were painted in front of the pyramids.”

“And do you not know who the third man is?” asked Elizabeth.

“I did not recognise him,” said Edward carefully, adding, “I did not even recognise my own father. He had a beard, he was very thin, and his skin was as brown as a nut. It was only the ring on his finger which gave away his identity.”

“And could your father not tell you?”

“He does not like to speak of Egypt. He fears it will encourage me. It is a pity we do not know of any artists who might be willing to come with us. I would like to have someone to record the expedition,” said Edward. “We could have our portrait painted in front of the pyramids like our fathers.”

Elizabeth opened her mouth, and Darcy said, “No, you cannot ask him.”

“Why not?” she replied. “I am sure he would like to come with us.”

“The poor man was of a nervous disposition. He jumped every time I spoke to him,” said Darcy. “He would probably faint at the sight of a camel.”

“You forget, my dear, that you are far more awe inspiring than any camel!” Elizabeth returned with laughter in her eyes.

“Do you mean you know someone?” asked Edward.

“Darcy has just commissioned a family portrait,” said Elizabeth. “We were going to have it painted in London, or perhaps at Pemberley. But as we already have several family portraits with various Darcy houses in the background, I think the idea of being painted against a backdrop of camels, sand, and pyramids is an excellent one.”

“I doubt if Paul Inkworthy will think it an excellent idea,” said Darcy.

“We can at least ask him,” said Elizabeth. “It would be an adventure for him, and I think he is in need of an adventure. He is very thin and pale, poor man; he has obviously spent too many hours sitting in a studio. Some sunshine is just what he needs. It would improve his nerves too, I am convinced of it.”

“My dear wife, you are incorrigible,” said Darcy.

“Alas, dear husband, I am. I will write to him and suggest the idea at once,” said Elizabeth.

As she went over to her writing table, she had a brilliant vision of Darcy and herself standing in the middle of a glorious Egyptian painting, with their children seated in front of them. She imagined the girls in pristine white dresses and the boys looking immaculate in coats and breeches, surrounded by golden sand dunes. Then the impossibly perfect picture dissolved as her lively mind provided her with a more realistic picture: Laurence and Jane running about, Margaret sucking her thumb, and a camel eating the flowers on Beth’s bonnet. Elizabeth laughed at herself then sat down at her desk, and taking up a quill pen, she started to write.

Darcy and Edward excused themselves. Edward went upstairs, while Darcy called for the carriage and set out for his club. He knew that Lord Potheroe would be there, and as Potheroe had travelled to Egypt the preceding year with his wife, Darcy wanted his advice.

As the carriage rattled through the streets, he felt his own excitement stirring. He had been deprived of a Grand Tour in his youth because of the Napoleonic Wars, which had ravaged Europe and made travel through France and Italy impossible. It had been a great disappointment to him at the time because as a boy he had listened avidly to his father’s tales of Paris and Venice, and he had longed to see them for himself. And not only Paris and Venice. His father, in common with Edward’s father and other young men of their generation, had extended his Grand Tour to include Greece, Turkey, and Egypt as well. Indeed, one of their friends, Lord Sandwich, had been so enthusiastic about these far-flung places that he had founded the Egyptian Society, opening it to any gentleman who had been in Egypt, and Darcy’s father had joined.

It had been a disappointment to Darcy that he had never been able to do the same, but now his chance had arrived. The only thing troubling him was the fact that his father had suffered from various illnesses while in Egypt, and the whole adventure had weakened his constitution. There was no doubt that his Egyptian adventure had contributed to his early death, leaving Darcy an orphan at the age of twenty-two and Georgiana an orphan at the tender age of ten. Darcy did not want to expose himself, or his family, to the same evils, and he meant to take every precaution.

The carriage rolled to a halt. He descended to the pavement, drawing admiring looks from passersby, and went into the club.

As he had hoped, Potheroe was in his usual seat by the window.

“Darcy!” he said, rising, as he saw his old friend. “Join me.”

“I would be happy to,” said Darcy.

He sat down and ordered a drink, and the two men exchanged pleasantries.

“What are you doing in London?” asked Potheroe.

“We have been down to Kent to visit my aunt, Lady Catherine, and we decided to spend some time in London on our way back to Derbyshire.”

“They are all well in Kent, I hope? Anne and her children are thriving?”

“Yes, I thank you.”

“So when are you returning to Pemberley?” asked Potheroe, as the waiter brought Darcy his drink.

“Not for some time,” said Darcy. “There has been a change of plan. And that leads me to the reason for my being here. I came especially to see you.”

“My dear boy, I did not know I was such a draw!” said Potheroe, laughing.

Darcy smiled and then said, “It is not so much you, as your experiences. I am planning a trip to Egypt—”

“Egypt!” said Potheroe, startled. “Will Elizabeth not mind? It is a long way, you know, and you cannot go there and back in a day. Unless she intends to travel with you?”

“She does,” said Darcy. “Elizabeth has always liked to travel, and when my cousin Edward turned up unexpectedly, he infected her with his desire to see Egypt.”

“I see. It is not very sedate, you know.”

Darcy laughed quietly, for there was nothing sedate about Elizabeth either.

“You will be leaving the children with the Bennets, I suppose?” Potheroe continued.

Darcy stretched out his legs in front of him and made himself more comfortable. “No, we will be taking them with us.”

“Taking them with you?” asked Potheroe, surprised.

“Yes. It will be educational for them.”

“Are they not a little young for that kind of thing?”

“If we wait, who is to say that the opportunity will be available to them when they are older? You and I both know that wars can erupt at any time and make Europe impassable for decades. I do not want them to be confined to England forever.”

“There is something in what you say. Even so, taking children to Egypt… You will need plenty of help. And, mind, not all of your maids and footmen will want to go with you, nor your tutors nor governesses either. It is a long trip, and life is very different when you get there. Not that I am saying it cannot be comfortable, because it can, particularly for a man of your wealth, but it won’t be the same as being at home.”

“That is exactly why we are going,” said Darcy. “For an adventure. But I want to do everything I can to ensure the safety of Elizabeth and the children, which is why I came here to find you. You have been there recently and can give me your advice. I need to know how to travel, where are the best places to stay en route, and how to look after my family when we arrive.”

“I will do so, and gladly. I will give you the address of the British Consul General out there and let him know you are coming. He will be glad to give you his aid. He will be able to arrange some suitable accommodation for you and have it waiting for you when you arrive. In fact, he will be able to help you with all your practical concerns. He was a great help to me when I was over there, even going so far as to arrange a suitable guard for us. It can be a dangerous place, but a few men following a party are enough to scare away any cutthroats and take care of things if help should become necessary. Not that I think it will: with our show of strength, we were never troubled by anything of that kind. And never fear, the guards are discreet. They will not be intrusive and you will soon forget they are there.”

“Thank you.”

“And of course you are free to draw on my experiences at any time.”

“I hope that you and your wife will dine with us; we will be very glad of your company and I know that Elizabeth will be as eager as I am to hear of your experiences.”

A date was set for the following week, and then they fell to discussing the travel arrangements for the Darcys’ journey.

“I advise you to arrange matters so that you arrive in Egypt toward the end of August or the start of September; you do not want to arrive during the plague season in June, and it is best to avoid the Nile floods in August. I advise you to hire your own ship to take you to Alexandria from Southampton, it will be much more convenient than changing ships at various ports along the way, and for a man of your wealth it will not be difficult. There is a captain I can recommend…” Lord Potheroe began.

A few hours later, Darcy left the club with all the information he needed to make a start on the arrangements. It was not a small undertaking, transporting so many people so many miles, but it was stimulating and he found himself looking forward to the expedition with enthusiasm.

On leaving the club, he went to see his man of business and informed him of the coming trip, leaving him with a list of instructions based on Lord Potheroe’s experiences.

By the time he returned to Darcy House, he found that Edward had taken the children riding in the park with their grooms and that Elizabeth was upstairs. He found her in her bedchamber, sorting through her clothes.

“What do you think I should wear in Egypt?” she asked, holding up two gowns.

“I have never been able to understand the mysteries of women’s clothing, but I am sure that Lady Potheroe will be able to advise you. I have invited the Potheroes to dinner next week. They have been in Egypt recently, and they will be able to give us a great deal of help. I have already had the benefit of Lord Potheroe’s advice as far as travel and accommodation go. I am sure Lady Potheroe will be just as helpful with the more domestic arrangements. Although you, my dear Elizabeth, will look beautiful whatever you wear,” he said, putting his arms around her waist.

She laughed but was pleased nonetheless, and she slid her arms around his neck as he pulled her close, feeling a mixture of warmth and longing as he bent his head to hers.

“I am glad to see that you remember how to exaggerate my good points,” she said.

And then she said no more, for his kisses left her neither the time nor the inclination to speak.

***

The next week was full of interest as they pored over maps, made arrangements, and wrote out long lists of things to do. Edward’s father did not give his blessing to the trip but he did not forbid it, which was all that could be hoped for. Edward declared himself happy to travel with his relatives, particularly as Sir Matthew had sailed the day after their meeting. That being the case, he said he would rather wait and travel with friends, even if it meant a delay, than take passage alone.

Normal life was almost forgotten in all the excitement, but Elizabeth was reminded of it when the post brought two letters of interest. One was from Mr Inkworthy, who professed himself willing to travel with them to Egypt, and the other was from Mrs Bennet.

Elizabeth felt a twinge of guilt as she opened it, for she had said nothing of the proposed trip to her mother. She knew the information would provoke a strong reaction, either elation or despair, and an inevitable disturbance of Mrs Bennet’s finely tuned nerves. And so she had refrained from saying anything thus far. There would be time enough for that once all the arrangements had been made.

Her twinge of guilt was soon replaced by a different emotion, however, for the contents of the letter gave her an idea.

“You have thought of something,” said Darcy, who was writing a letter to Georgiana close by.

“Yes, I have. You know that Sophie Lucas, Charlotte’s youngest sister, has recently been jilted and that she has been very unhappy,” said Elizabeth.

“I remember you mentioning it, yes.”

“Charlotte and Maria have both been worried about her. They invited her to stay with them, but although Sophie dutifully accepted the invitations and dutifully paid her visits, she showed no interest or pleasure in them. And now Mama writes that Mr Jones the apothecary is seriously worried about her and fears she may be going into a decline. Lady Lucas is in despair and does not know what to do.”

Darcy stopped writing.

“I am very sorry for it,” he said. “I liked Sophie. It cannot have been easy for her, being so much younger than the rest of the family, particularly as her sisters have both been married for ten years or more, and she is the only girl left.”

“Even her brothers have now all gone out into the world,” said Elizabeth, “which means that she is the only child left at home—although, at two and twenty, she is not a child anymore. I have been thinking that I will lack female companionship when we go to Egypt and that I would like another woman to talk to when so far from home. I cannot ask Jane to go with us, she is busy with her young brood, and I cannot ask Georgiana, as she is expecting again, but Mama’s letter has led me to think I would like to invite Sophie. The change of scene would be good for her and give a new turn to her thoughts. She has always loved the children, and she would be a great help with them as well as providing me with some companionship.”

“I think it a very good idea. If you can persuade her to come, then do so,” said Darcy.

“The only drawback is that as soon as Sophie knows we are going to Egypt, Mama will know as well,” said Elizabeth. “There is no such thing as a secret in Meryton.”

“She will have to know at some time,” said Darcy. “Or had you planned on posting her a letter from Southampton as we boarded the ship?”

Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled mischievously.

“I must admit the idea had crossed my mind! But if I am to write to Sophie, I had better write to Mama at the same time. She will make a fuss, no doubt, but she is a long way away in Hertfordshire, and I will just have to bear her reproachful reply.”

She could not complain about this minor worry, she thought, as she took up her quill, for the late afternoon was otherwise idyllic. All six of her children were behaving themselves beautifully. Beth was sitting by the window, embroidering a handkerchief; William was reading a book about the pharaohs; John was lying on the floor and reenacting the Battle of Alexandria with his toy soldiers; Laurence and Jane were playing chase, running in and out of the French windows without knocking anything over; and Margaret was talking to her doll.

Darcy, finishing his letters, went to join John.

“Playing with toy soldiers?” Lizzy teased him as he walked past her.

“Helping my son with problems of historical strategy,” he returned.

“Do not get too carried away. Remember, the Potheroes are dining with us tonight. In another half hour, the children will have to go upstairs and we will have to dress.”

“Half an hour is enough for us to win the battle, is it not, John?” said Darcy.

John nodded seriously.

“I only hope it is enough for Edward to return,” said Elizabeth. “You told him we were expecting company for dinner, I hope?”

“Yes, I reminded him about it this morning.”

Elizabeth was satisfied and returned to her letters.

As it happened, she need not have worried, for Edward walked into the sitting room soon afterward, just in time to bid the children good night. He was looking well pleased with himself and revealed that he had been with his tailor, discussing some new clothes he would need for the trip.

“You will be able to learn more about what to wear once the Potheroes arrive,” said Elizabeth.

“The Potheroes!” said Edward, clapping his hand to his head.

“You had not forgotten?” Elizabeth said. “Even though Darcy reminded you?”

“No, of course not,” he declared mendaciously.

“Then I think it is time you retired to dress, and we must do the same,” said Elizabeth.

She tidied away her writing implements and then went upstairs, kissing the children good night before retiring to her room, where her maid had laid out a beautiful dinner dress. It had a high waist and narrow skirt, and it was decorated down the front with frills of lace. A newly fashionable lace ruff completed the outfit, but after a few minutes of wearing it, Elizabeth took it off, for although it looked very grand, it scratched.

Darcy entered the room a few minutes later, dressed in his evening clothes and looking as handsome as when she had first seen him at the Meryton assembly. His dark hair was combed over the fine contours of his head, and his figure—as hard and firm as when she had first met him—was encased in a black tailcoat, white ruffled shirt, and well-fitting pantaloons. That evening so long ago had sealed his fate, and hers, too. Despite the difficult start to their courtship, it had led to many years of happiness for both of them.

“You look beautiful,” he said, kissing her on the neck.

She could not resist turning to kiss him and would have continued to do so all evening if she had not heard the Potheroes’ carriage rolling up outside the house. Reluctantly, she pulled away from him and, equally reluctantly, Darcy let her go.

He gave her his arm and they left the room, descending the long and splendid staircase and arriving on the first floor landing in time to greet their guests.

They all went through to the drawing room, which, in common with other town houses, was located on the first floor. Edward was waiting for them, suitably attired.

He is very handsome, thought Elizabeth as she saw him in all his glory. I wonder if he and Sophie…

But then told herself that matchmaking was seldom successful and decided that she had quite enough to think about without such complications.

They were soon all talking happily together. The conversation was at first general, but as they went through into the dining room, dinner having been announced, it turned to the subject on everyone’s mind.

“I am longing to know more about your trip,” said Elizabeth to Lady Potheroe, as the soup was served. “Is the heat immense?”

“Well, my dear, it is unbearable at midday, although the evenings are delightful. You must be sure to take clothes of the lightest materials. Linen and muslin are best. And you must make sure to be well covered from the sun. We met a very agreeable couple while we were out there—do you remember the Wakeleys, Oliver dear?—they told us that one of their maids foolishly left off her shawl during a shopping trip to the market and was boiled as red as a lobster. The wretched girl was in pain for days and insisted on returning home as soon as ever she could move. But of course, if you take care, there is no need—”

Lady Potheroe chatted on at some length about the different requirements for adults and children and Elizabeth listened diligently throughout.

Although she had never met the older lady before tonight, Elizabeth could not help but be charmed by her warm manner and matter-of-fact attitude to the perils of travelling in foreign lands. Lady Potheroe had already given Elizabeth more information on medicines to take and clothes to pack than any book could have done. Moreover, she had offered the name of her own seamstress for Elizabeth to consult.

By the time the dessert was brought in, Elizabeth felt much more confident about leading her children off on this marvellous, yet potentially hazardous adventure.

“Of course when you arrive at the Valley of the Kings, you will be amazed at how spectacular the pyramids are,” Lord Potheroe said, as he took a spoonful of syllabub. “I couldn’t take my eyes off them for the first three days, could I, m’dear?”

“It was the same for all of us, Oliver. The structures are so fantastic, one cannot help but feel dwarfed by them.”

“It seems you were quite taken with Egypt, Lady Potheroe,” said Darcy, smiling at his guest.

“It is impossible not to be,” Lady Potheroe replied. “Indeed, just talking about it this evening with you young people makes me wish I was returning with you. But I cannot,” she continued with a smile at Edward, who seemed to be about to invite her in his zeal to convert as many people as possible to his cause. “Our youngest daughter is finally getting married in three months time, and I barely have enough time to choose gowns with her as it is.”

“Then our loss is England’s gain,” said Edward gallantly.

“However,” Lord Potheroe continued, “do not let Amelia’s enthusiasms blind you to the inconveniences of Egypt, and there are many. You should be aware of the dangers of drinking the water and the diseases that seem to be rife among the poor, even once the plague season has passed. And the animals can be deadly as well. Never be tempted to swim in the rivers, Darcy, no matter how hot it gets. The Nile crocodiles are the most fearsome creatures I have ever seen. We witnessed a male drowning a—”

“Oliver, this is hardly appropriate dinner conversation,” Lady Potheroe interrupted gently.

Her husband looked awkward.

“You are right as usual, my dear,” he said.

Elizabeth changed the direction of the conversation by saying, “Have you visited the British Museum recently? Edward had business with Sir Matthew, and we saw the beginnings of his exhibition room. He longs to fill it with treasures one day, but at the moment it is practically empty, apart from a few pots and a frieze of an Egyptian woman. She looked remarkably like the little doll Edward gave to Margaret—or, should I say, the doll which Margaret appropriated!”

Edward finished the last of his dessert and sat back on his chair. “Ah, you mean Aahotep.”

“It is a peculiar little trinket,” Darcy said.

“Egypt is full of such things, Darcy,” Lord Potheroe said rather dismissively, but his wife held up a finger.

“Do tell us more, Mr Fitzwilliam. I adore Egyptian folktales.”

Her husband smiled indulgently. “Amelia speaks the truth. Whenever we ventured into the souks and she spotted a vase or a tapestry or a rug with even a hint of a story—the gorier the better, I might add—I knew I would not be able to wrest her away until the whole ghastly tale had been told and my wallet would be lighter of a good few pounds.”

The Darcys laughed as Edward pushed his plate aside.

“It is not a long story,” he said, “although it is rather intriguing. I must confess a similar love of Egyptian stories as Lady Potheroe, and so I made it my business to discover what I could about Aahotep.”

“Bravo, Mr Fitzwilliam,” said Lady Potheroe. “We romantics must stick together. Please tell us the story.”

“Yes, do, Edward,” Elizabeth agreed eagerly. “Then I promise Lady Potheroe and I will leave you gentlemen to your port.”

Edward bowed from his chair. “Very well then—although I warn you, I have no means of knowing how authentic this tale is…”

By now even Lord Potheroe and Darcy were intrigued and, encouraged by their enthusiasm, Edward began.

“Aahotep was reputed to have lived in the Old Kingdom Era—that is, during the period between 2686 and 2181 BC. She was, according to my source, a somewhat unpleasant creature, although perhaps we should not blame her too much for her wayward life. She was born the fifth daughter of a poor fisherman on the Nile and sold into slavery quite young when her parents decided they could not afford any more girls. She began her career quite humbly as a slave in the household of a grand vizier but soon rose to become a servant of some importance.”

“Oh, let me guess,” said Lady Potheroe smiling. “She was exceptionally beautiful.”

“You have been teasing me, Lady Potheroe; you have heard this story before.”

“Mr Fitzwilliam, the woman in question is always exceptionally beautiful; it is a staple of the best stories from every civilisation. Is that not so, Oliver?”

Lord Potheroe laughed. “You would know, my dear.”

“Of course,” agreed Elizabeth. “What is the good of a story if the woman is not beautiful and the hero not brave? Do go on, Edward.”

“Well this beautiful woman was evil as well—”

“Not essentially evil, Edward,” said Darcy, entering into the spirit of things, “just forced to become so as a result of circumstances beyond her control.”

“Yes, indeed,” said Lady Potheroe. “Was there a handsome young man with whom she fell in love and an evil older man who cast covetous eyes upon her?”

“Enough,” cried Edward, laughing good-naturedly. “I can see my audience is far crueler than Aahotep could ever be.”

“Dear Edward, we should not tease, and I do want to know the story before Mrs Darcy and I retire to discuss fabrics. Come, finish your tale.”

The merriment of the company thus calmed, Edward continued.

“Very well; yes, Aahotep was very beautiful and, yes, she did eventually attract the eyes of a richer, older man who desired her enough to marry her and elevate her in society. She was clever as well as beautiful and helped her husband augment his riches, but he was less than just in dividing his newfound wealth with her, and when he died, she was able to govern her new business with greater freedom. It was whispered by some that her husband did not die of natural causes but was rather helped along the road by his less than loving wife, although he was not himself a popular man and most people were prepared to accept this as nothing more than jealousy. And then, she married again, a far richer husband, and enhanced his wealth as well, and after a few short years this husband too died. But life was precarious in those days. And then Aahotep married a third time, and this husband had a handsome young son named Ammon, of whom she quickly became enamoured.”

Edward paused, and Darcy leaned toward Lord Potheroe.

“I fancy I can see where this is headed,” he said with a smile.

“When her third husband died, Aahotep decided that the handsome young man would be husband number four,” said Edward. “Except that he had plans of his own with a younger, equally beautiful girl. And when Aahotep was spurned by the young man and forced to watch his wedding celebrations, she went mad and poisoned their wine at the feast and laughed with insane glee as the whole wedding party died horrible deaths. Aahotep was the only survivor of the feast, but despite the pharaoh sending his most experienced men to apprehend her, she disappeared along the bank of the Nile and was never seen again. Of course, she was supposed to have been eaten by the crocodiles, although rumours persist to this day that one can see a mad woman fleeing the riverbanks when the moon is full. The two lovers were buried together secretly so that Aahotep cannot disturb them in death as she did in life. Only if she truly repents will she ever find them and be allowed to rest herself. And it is said,” he ended, intoning dramatically, “that if their tomb is ever disturbed by anyone else, the guilty party, alive or dead, shall be struck down by a disease that no doctor can cure.”

“Capital, dear fellow; well done,” Lord Potheroe applauded. “Quite one of the best I have heard in a long time.”

“And now we will leave you, gentlemen,” Elizabeth said, as the servants entered to remove the dessert dishes.

The two ladies stood up and retired to the drawing room, where they discussed the clothes and other necessary items the Darcys would need in Egypt and on their journey.

***

Life was far less exciting for Elizabeth’s parents than it was for Elizabeth as they passed their days in the village of Longbourn. There were no visits to museums and no plans for far-flung journeys. Instead, Mr and Mrs Bennet, having disposed of all their daughters in marriage, spent their days in peace and quiet at Longbourn House. This suited Mr Bennet, who had the calm his nature craved, but it suited Mrs Bennet less well. When she had had five daughters to think about, she had been constantly complaining but nevertheless happy. Now she was simply constantly complaining.

“I think I will walk into Meryton this morning,” she said, as she presided over the breakfast table. She looked around at the empty seats and felt a sense of nostalgia for the days when every chair had been full. “I really ought to pay a visit to Mary.”

Mary, after spending many years at home, had finally married her uncle’s clerk and now lived in simple comfort in Meryton. Although she was the least favourite of her mother’s daughters, she had the advantage of being the nearest, as the others had all settled many miles away.

“A good idea,” said Mr Bennet, who never discouraged his wife from visiting friends or, indeed, from doing anything which would take her out of the house. “You must not let her feel neglected.”

“And then I think I will write to Lydia and invite her to stay. We have not seen her for such a long time, and she is bound to be missing us. Ah! My dear Lydia. How happy she will be to see us again, and how happy we will be to see her and her handsome Wickham.”

“We must not trespass upon their time,” said Mr Bennet, taking a bite of ham.

“It will be no trespass, I am sure,” said Mrs Bennet, as the mail was brought in on a silver salver.

She took the letters and glanced idly at the envelopes, then became more animated.

“A letter from Lizzy!” she said.

This made Mr Bennet look up, for Elizabeth was his favourite daughter.

Mrs Bennet started to read with a complacency reserved for the daughter who had married ten thousand a year and, incidentally, Mr Darcy. But as she read on, she exclaimed in amazement, “Why, Mr Bennet, whatever do you think?”

“I do not know, my dear,” he said with a long-suffering air, “but I am sure you are about to tell me.”

“Lizzy and Darcy are to visit Egypt. Well! What do you think of that?”

Mr Bennet was startled out of his usual imperturbability.

“Egypt?” he asked, and then he quickly settled back into his usual placidity. “Then I must ask them to bring me back some souvenir. Perhaps a map of the Nile or a crocodile tooth or—”

“Why, Mr Bennet, there is no need to ask them to bring back some souvenir. It would be far better for us to go to Egypt with them and buy some souvenirs ourselves. I am sure Lizzy and Darcy would be delighted to have us, and a few months in Egypt would set me up nicely.”

Mr Bennet, however, was no more accommodating than he had been fifteen years before, when Mrs Bennet had desired to go to Brighton. He had refused to countenance a journey then, and he refused now. Having finished his ham and eggs, he remarked that it was impossible and then took refuge behind the latest broadsheet.

Undaunted, Mrs Bennet continued.

“Just think, Mr Bennet! The camels and pyramids, to say nothing of the company—”

“Then, indeed, let us say nothing of it,” Mr Bennet remarked.

But Mrs Bennet was constitutionally unable to say nothing, and in the end her husband was forced to retire to the peace of his library.

Thus deprived of an audience, Mrs Bennet rang for Hill, who provided her with a more appreciative ear, and then carried out her earlier resolves: she must visit Mary at once, and then she must invite Lydia to stay.

***

“Remind me again why am I here with you, my love?” Wickham enquired charmingly as, several days later, he found himself on the steps of Longbourn House.

Lydia fiddled with the slightly grubby ribbon on her bonnet as they waited for the door of her parents’ home to open.

“La! My dear Wickham, you know as well as I do,” she replied, not even bothering to look at him. “We do not have enough money to live on, and we cannot pay the rent on the rooms we took in the hotel. Mama’s letter came just in time to save us from another midnight exit. But now our problems are solved, at least for a week or two—longer, if you behave yourself. Be charming to Mama and polite to Papa, and they may let us stay a month.”

“I will do my best.”

He kissed her blithely on the neck, careless of the servant who might appear at any second to allow them admission to the house. Lydia could not help but smile, for Wickham was still very handsome, whether he wore his blue or his red coat, and she could never resist his embraces, however lightly given.

“La! Here is Hill,” she declared, as the Bennets’ long-serving, and long-suffering, servant opened the door. “Hill, is it not the greatest fun? What a lark to find myself at home again!”

Mrs Bennet hurried into the hall to greet her.

“Lydia! My Lydia! Why, how well you look. And Wickham, how handsome!”

Wickham bowed charmingly and kissed her hand.

“But come in! Come in!”

She ushered them into the drawing room, from which Mr Bennet had made a hasty retreat, and tea was immediately served.

There was plenty of news to relate, but Mrs Bennet could wait for very little of it and launched almost immediately into a story of how she was ill used, how no one considered her nerves, and how Elizabeth and Darcy were to go to Egypt!

“Egypt!” Lydia’s somewhat weary eyes lit up. “La! Mama, how exciting. I would love to go.”

She had a momentary vision of a palm-fringed watering hole, complete with picturesque camels and a host of young and gay people; and, to complete the view, she saw herself seated beneath a canopy, flirting with at least six sheikhs at once. For although she had been married for fourteen years, Lydia was barely thirty.

“My dear, do not mention such a thing, even in jest,” said her mother. “It plays havoc with my nerves, for your papa has sworn I shall not go. I cannot see why not, for even Sophie Lucas has been invited.”

“Sophie?” asked Lydia, startled and annoyed.

“Elizabeth proposes to take her.”

“I do not see why she should take Sophie Lucas,” said Lydia.

“Ah, my dear,” said Mrs Bennet with a sigh, “neither do I, but Sophie has persuaded her to it, I have no doubt. The Lucases have always been artful. I remember when Charlotte Lucas stole Mr Collins away from beneath my nose, when everyone knew he was promised to Lizzy.”

Lydia took no notice of this comment but replied, “Lizzy ought to have taken me,” for she was feeling very much as Kitty had felt when Lydia had gone to Brighton and she had been left behind.

“I daresay she ought, but Lizzy has always been headstrong. She is going with Darcy’s cousin, Edward Fitzwilliam—”

“Edward?” Lydia’s face broke into a smile. “Oh, how I long to see him again. We met him at a ball given in the assembly rooms in Bath. He was forever flirting with me.”

“I am not surprised,” said Mrs Bennet. “You have always looked well, Lydia. And now he has given Lizzy and Darcy the idea of going to Egypt. If only I could go to Egypt! But your father will not hear of it. I have told him it will do wonders for my nerves, but no one ever thinks of me. If only your father was more like Mr Darcy’s father and Edward’s father.”

“Pray, what do their fathers have to do with this?” asked Lydia impatiently.

“They travelled to Egypt in their youth,” said Mrs Bennet. “Lizzy told me all about it in her letter. Stay, I have it here.” She read out the relevant section, adding, “I would like to travel to Egypt while I still have mine.”

“Do they say where they intend to go in Egypt, Mrs Bennet?” Wickham asked with careless charm.

“Down the Nile somewhere, I believe,” she said. “There is some talk of them joining an archaeological expedition with Sir Matthew Rosen, a most distinguished gentleman and scholar at the British Museum. Lizzy says he is very keen to take them and that Edward has already proved to be of invaluable help on account of the maps and other documents he has left over from his father’s expedition.”

The gong rang, signalling that it was time to dress for dinner. Lydia left the drawing room, followed by her husband, and as they climbed the stairs to their room—the very room in which Lydia had slept as a child—she stared at him with unabashed astonishment.

“La! My dear Wickham, I never realised you had so much patience in you,” she said, opening her rather old-fashioned fan. “You seemed to encourage Mama to chatter, when of late you have not been able to contain your impatience in anything.”

“I am always interested in what your mother has to say, my love,” Wickham replied smoothly. “Visiting your parents has been a most profitable excursion this day, my dear.” As they went into their room he took her hand, kissing it absently. “Most profitable indeed.”