Pride and pyramids : Mr. Darcy in Egypt

Chapter 4

Since they were not to travel until later in the year, so that they would arrive in Egypt when the fierce summer heat was over, the Darcys returned to Pemberley. They told the children of their plans and once the initial excitement had died down, life resumed its normal pace. William and John returned to school, and the other children were occupied by their tutors and governesses while Darcy and Elizabeth continued to host balls and parties. Their neighbours were, by turns, envious, astonished, and critical of their plans. But Elizabeth and Darcy, used to pursuing their dreams in the face of fierce opposition, took no notice of the talk they occasioned and continued to make arrangements for their trip.

Darcy wrote to all the British Consuls in the countries they would be visiting on the way and requested their help for the practical arrangements. In particular, he corresponded with the British Consul in Cairo, where they planned to stay for some time, and when all this was well in hand, he made further arrangements for the ship which was to carry them to Egypt. He was helped in this by his man of business, who dealt with many of the minor arrangements.

Then, too, he had to make arrangements for the life he would leave behind. Pemberley could not run itself, and although his steward was to remain in England, Darcy had to deal with many pressing matters as well as foresee any possible problems while he was gone.

One morning in the early summer, having ridden round the estate with his steward and noted any work to be undertaken in his absence, he returned to the house to find his wife and children sitting in the garden. They were bathed in sunshine as they worked and played, and his heart stood still as he halted for a moment, thinking he was the luckiest man in the world.

He had never imagined that his marriage to Elizabeth would bring him such a deep and abiding joy. He had almost resented the fact that he had fallen in love with her to begin with and had despised himself for rejoicing in her company and admiring her humour. When he had overcome his resentment and finally proposed, he had been angry that she had not fallen into his hands like a ripe plum, but had instead rejected him as the last man in the world she could ever be prevailed upon to marry.

It was only then, when he had insulted her and her family, that he had come to know how passionate, loyal, and constant Elizabeth could be when she knew herself to be right. But it was not until the succeeding months that he had learned she was also capable of change when she found herself to be wrong.

And, right or wrong, she was at all times strong and brave and true to herself, no matter what allurements (such as ten thousand a year and Pemberley), nor what threats (such as offending Lady Catherine and polluting the shades of Pemberley) were used to try and persuade her out of her own mind. And with this strength he had fallen more deeply in love. But he had never known that his love would continue to grow with every passing year, until he no longer knew how he had lived without it.

Parenthood, too, held many surprises. Both he and Elizabeth had been amazed at the strength of their love for their children, and they had found the whole venture more challenging, if more stimulating, than they had expected. Elizabeth, who had grown up in a family of girls, had been amazed at the propensity of small boys to wrestle at any available opportunity. Darcy had had no illusions about boys, having been to a school overflowing with them, but he had been surprised in other ways. Indeed, he had been astonished to find that his children, brought up in a happy, informal atmosphere—in contrast to his own, formal upbringing—had none of the awe of him that he had had for his own parents. Instead, they had unrestrained love, which he found extraordinarily fulfilling, and which he preferred enormously—even if it was sometimes a little exasperating.

With a formal upbringing, there would have been no noisy play in front of him, only “Yes, Papa,” and “No, Papa.” And although there were occasionally moments when he thought how wonderful that must be—usually when Laurence had led Jane into mischief—he was nevertheless wholeheartedly thankful that he had married Elizabeth and that he had experienced their fun-filled, exhausting, exasperating, yet joyful family life.

As he joined them on the lawn, William looked up from his book.

William is a true Darcy, he thought, for William was already conscious of his heritage and his future as the master of Pemberley. William had an air of gravity that the other children lacked. A fine boy, thought Darcy proudly, going over to his eldest son and asking him about his book, engaging him in an interesting conversation.

John was busy using books for a less exalted purpose. They lay about the grass, standing in for naval ships sailing on an emerald sea, as John reenacted the Battle of the Nile.

Laurence, for once, was still. The explanation for this remarkable phenomenon was to be found in the book he held on his lap, which contained a picture of an enormous crocodile menacing a suitably horrified man on a sandbank.

Beth was teaching Jane to sew, and Margaret was dressing her doll in their latest creation, a surprisingly successful imitation of an Egyptian gown.

Elizabeth was sitting in the middle of this happy scene. She looked toward the drive as the sound of carriage wheels filled the air, and Darcy remembered that Jane and Bingley were to visit them. He stayed only to kiss Elizabeth and tell her she was looking exceptionally beautiful, and then he went upstairs to change into fresh clothes.

By the time he joined Elizabeth again in the garden, Jane and Bingley were with her and all the children were playing together, chasing each other across the lawn.

The Bingleys were frequent visitors. Having left Netherfield Park a year after their wedding, they had settled in Nottinghamshire, some thirty miles from Pemberley. In the winter they often stayed with the Darcys, and in the summer it was not uncommon for them to drive over for a day. They customarily arrived before lunch and left after an early dinner, which allowed them to return home in the daylight.

Family news was exchanged, and Jane said, “I envy your trip. If the children were old enough, I would be persuading Charles to take us all, too. But with Eleanor less than two years old, it would never do. It is the talk of Meryton, you know. We have just been staying with Mama, and there is talk of nothing else. Sir William and Lady Lucas have decided to accompany Sophie to London in their carriage. They are planning to stay in London for a few days and then they hope to accompany you to Southampton, so that they may see Sophie safely onto the ship before returning to Lucas Lodge.”

“I am glad they are so careful of her,” said Darcy. “I think it an excellent idea.”

“Yes. I think I must invite them to stay with us while they are in town,” said Elizabeth.

Jane hesitated.

Elizabeth looked at her enquiringly. “There is something you are not telling me,” she said.

“Only this,” said Jane uncomfortably. “As soon as Mama realised that the Lucases would be taking Sophie to London and that the fourth seat in the carriage would be spare…”

“Oh dear,” said Lizzy, but she could not help laughing at the sight of Darcy’s face, which had fallen comically as he had a presentiment of what was coming.

“You mean to say that your mother is intending to come, too?” he asked.

“I am very much afraid so,” said Jane.

“Cheer up, Darcy,” said Bingley jovially. “It is only for a few days, you know, just while you are still in London.”

“Is that really all, or will she accompany us to Southampton?” Darcy asked, dismayed.

“I am afraid so,” said Jane. “To see you onto the ship and to wish you all bon voyage.”

Lizzy could not help laughing, despite her own horror, for it was so like her mama.

“Do you really mind so very much?” she said, turning to Darcy.

He rallied himself. “No,” he said courageously. “Or, at least, no more than you! But never mind, it will not be for long and the children will be glad to see her. We are taking them away from their grandparents for months, after all.”

“I think, if we are to have the Lucases and Mama to stay for a few days before we set out for the port, we should also invite Paul Inkworthy to stay. Otherwise he will be the only member of the party not to know anyone. A few days at Darcy House will give him a chance to accustom himself to the children, as well as meet Sophie, before we leave the familiarity of England,” said Elizabeth.

“A good idea. I will visit him when we return to London and invite him.”

“When are you returning to London?” asked Jane.

“At the end of June,” said Elizabeth. “That will allow us some time in town to have the final fittings for our clothes, as well as make other last-minute preparations before we set out.”

“You will not forget to write? I am longing to hear all about it,” said Jane.

“I will write very regularly, and you must write to me, too,” said Elizabeth. “I want to know all about my nieces and nephews while I am away. I have an itinerary inside; I will give you a copy before you leave, and then you will know where we will be at any given time. If you send your letters to the British Consuls, they will hold the letters for us until we arrive, for we will be travelling at a leisurely pace and the post will go more quickly than we do.”

“This artist of yours, is he any good?” asked Bingley.

“He comes highly recommended,” said Darcy, “but I hope to see for myself when I invite him to stay with us before embarking on our voyage. I intend to call on him to issue the invitation.”

“Would it not be better to write?” said Bingley. “You will give him more time to prepare if you do.”

“Which is exactly why I intend to call. I would like a chance to see his studio so that I can examine some of his work without him having arranged it all for me in advance.”

“His studio is, I fear, nothing more than an attic,” said Elizabeth. “The address was not in a good part of town. You must not expect too much.”

“Never mind. If the young man has talent, then I mean to give him the opportunity to rise in the world. If I like his work, I am thinking of commissioning a whole set of paintings from him, so that we will have a pictorial record of our trip.”

“I like that idea,” said Elizabeth, “but we will be away for months, and if he is to paint everywhere we go and everything we do, we will need a new gallery at Pemberley!”

“Well, and why not? Each generation of Darcys adds something to the house. We will add an Egyptian gallery. We might collect some antiquities, too. And once we return, I will be able to introduce him to many more patrons. There is nothing I would like more than to make his fortune, if he deserves it.”

Elizabeth was gratified. It was one of the more wonderful things about their position, that it gave them an opportunity to encourage those with talent, and she found herself looking forward to all the paintings, with their exotic backgrounds, which were to come.

“You must bring some antiquities back for us, you know,” said Bingley. “Upon my honour, I think a few Egyptian vases would look well in the hall. Do you not think so, Jane?”

“If you would like some, then I have no objection,” said Jane. “But I would rather have some Egyptian cotton; it is supposed to be very fine.”

As the two women began talking of fabrics and sheets, dresses and shirts, the gentlemen excused themselves and went down to the lake to fish.

“Upon my honour, this is a daring enterprise,” said Bingley, as he reeled in his line, only to find a tangle of weed on the other end. He removed the weed and then cast it again.

“The trip to Egypt or entertaining Mrs Bennet in London?” asked Darcy.

Bingley laughed.

“I meant the former, but perhaps the latter will be more of a trial. We have just come back from Longbourn, where Mrs Bennet spoiled the children dreadfully. Charles and Eleanor have taken no harm from it, Charles being too old and Eleanor too young, but I was glad to bring Eliza and Harry home before they were thoroughly spoiled. And so you will be leaving us in July. How long do you mean to stay away?”

“For six months at least. The journey will take several months each way, and we intend to spend some time travelling down the Nile when we arrive. We will go so far from home only once, and we mean to make the most of it.”

Bingley felt a tug on his line and landed a fish, and shortly afterward, Darcy’s own line gave a jerk. It was with a sizeable catch, at last, that they returned to the house, where the fish were taken to the kitchens and served as one of the dishes at dinner.

Afterward, Jane and Bingley did not linger, wanting to be home before dark.

“Dear Lizzy,” said Jane, embracing her sister. “I do not suppose we will see you again before you leave. Have a safe journey and remember to write.”

Elizabeth promised to do so and the Bingleys departed. Then she went into the drawing room, where she wrote to the London housekeeper, apprising her of the fact that the Darcys would be entertaining five house guests when they returned to London, prior to their departure for Egypt.

***

June arrived, and with it the day of their departure for London drew nearer. The children had all but forgotten about the coming trip, having been engrossed in their summer activities at Pemberley, but their excitement began to mount as the boxes were packed, for the journey to London signalled that the journey to Egypt was not far behind.

Almost as soon as they reached London, Mr Darcy called on Paul Inkworthy. The artist’s home was in a poor part of town, with narrow cobbled streets and overhanging gables. The houses were a relic of the sixteenth century, their black-and-white buildings giving evidence of the neighbourhood’s Tudor heritage.

Darcy found the address, mounted the three precarious wooden steps, and knocked on the crazily askew front door.

There came a drunken shout from inside, followed by the sound of someone falling over, and then a window opened overhead, and a woman peered out.

“Aw, my life, it’s a swell,” she said, before shutting the window and running heavily downstairs to open the door.

“I am here to see Mr Inkworthy,” said Darcy.

“Yes, sir, right this way, sir,” said the woman, wiping her greasy hands on her even greasier apron.

Darcy followed her into the ill-lit interior and up several flights of rickety stairs, until she stopped on the uppermost landing, which was inches deep in dust.

“’Ere you are, sir,” she said, bobbing him something that resembled a curtsey and holding out her hand.

Darcy put a coin into it and knocked on the attic door. A familiar voice called, “Come in,” and Darcy opened the door, walking into the large attic room with a sharp sense of interest. It was bare of any furniture, save for a bed, a table, and a chair; but canvases, sketchbooks, paintbrushes, and all the paraphernalia of an artist’s studio filled the large space. An easel stood over by the east-facing window, and on it stood a painting, while in the corner farthest from the easel, cleaning a paintbrush, was Paul Inkworthy.

The artist had his back to him, and Darcy had a chance to examine him for a moment, curious to know more about the young man who was to accompany them on their travels.

Mr Inkworthy looked much the same as he had on their previous meeting, and yet there was something different about him. He was still tall and thin—Darcy found himself wondering when the man had last had a good meal—and his dark, curly hair still fell in an unruly profusion over his collar, but he had an air of confidence about him that had been lacking before. It was evident in the line of his back and the angle of his head.

Darcy nodded thoughtfully. Before, Inkworthy had been in someone else’s salon. Here, he was in his own studio, the master of all he surveyed—a small domain, it was true, but one full of riches.

Darcy walked over to the easel and was surprised to see a half-finished portrait of Elizabeth standing on it.

“Ah, yes,” came a voice at his side.

He turned to see Mr Inkworthy, who had joined him noiselessly and was looking critically at his own work.

“You have painted my wife,” said Darcy.

Some of the artist’s former nervousness returned.

“Yes,” he said, uncertainly, as if he realised he had committed a faux pas by painting another man’s wife when not expressly asked to do so. But then the artist in him took over and he said, “I could not resist. It is the eyes, you see, they are so very fine. I noticed them as soon as I was introduced to her. It is not just the colour and shape, nor the fineness of the lashes, but the expression in them. It is extraordinary.”

He stood looking at his portrait, lost in thought.

“You have caught it very well,” said Darcy, impressed.

“No.” The artist shook his head. “I have caught something of it, it is true, but my memory failed me at a critical juncture. I should have taken a sketch at the time but I neglected to do so, for which I have been cursing myself ever since. I could not remember the light in them, the exact glow, the sense of spirit… But I will capture it, I promise you. Now that I am to go to Egypt with you, I will have time to study those eyes at my leisure.”

“Which brings me to the object of my visit,” said Darcy. “Mrs Darcy and I”—he caught himself stressing Mrs, since the young man was so appreciative of Elizabeth, and since the artist possessed a certain charm. “Mrs Darcy and I would like you to join us at Darcy House tomorrow, so that you may spend a few days with us prior to setting out on our journey. It will give you an opportunity to become acquainted with us, with our children, and with our travelling companions: my cousin, the Honourable Edward Fitzwilliam; and a family friend, Miss Sophie Lucas.”

Mr Inkworthy looked dazzled at such a prospect but managed to murmur his thanks. “I will need to bring my things with me,” he added. “I hope there will be room for them all?”

“I am sure we can accommodate them,” said Darcy with a smile, remembering the size of Darcy House—remembering, too, the spacious quarters he had arranged for them on the ship he had commissioned to take them to Egypt and the size of the house he had rented there.

The artist looked relieved, saying, “Then I will join you tomorrow, if that is convenient.”

Now that the business was concluded, some of Inkworthy’s former nervousness returned, as though he was suddenly conscious once again that his visitor was Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, a man who could buy his studio and everything in it a hundred times, nay a thousand times over, and never notice what he spent. Remembering, too, that Darcy had a fine and imposing figure, which made his own spare frame seem even more scrawny, and a face which would have put a more handsome man than Paul Inkworthy to shame.

“Very well,” said Darcy, adding the final, unwitting, touch to the younger man’s sense of his inferior place in the world by saying, “I will send the carriage.”

***

While Darcy was busy with Paul Inkworthy, Elizabeth was busy overseeing the preparation of the rooms for their guests. Having satisfied herself that everything was just as she wanted it, she finalised the list of essential and desirable things they should take with them and then went into the drawing room, where the children were playing.

“Have you any questions?” she asked them. “We will be leaving in a week, and everything must be ready by then.”

Beth asked her mother’s advice on which clothes she should take, a sure sign she was gradually leaving childhood behind and beginning to walk the path toward womanhood; William wondered if his allowance would be sufficient for him to bring some curios back to England; John wrote to Colonel Fitzwilliam, telling his idol that he would be visiting the scene of the Battle of Aboukir Bay; and Laurence chased a squealing Jane around the room, pretending to be a crocodile. Only Margaret was quiet, listening to her doll and then saying gravely that Aahotep was glad to be going home.

When she had answered the children’s questions, Elizabeth relinquished them into the care of various tutors and governesses. She went out into the garden, where Darcy soon joined her.

“How peaceful it is!” said Elizabeth, as they walked along arm-in-arm. “There is nothing better than the London garden in July. It is small compared to the grounds at Pemberley, I know, but it is a haven of beauty and tranquillity, especially when the roses are in bloom.”

She breathed in deeply to catch their scent.

Darcy stopped and picked one, then, stripping off the thorns, he put it in Elizabeth’s hair.

“You are not regretting it?” he asked, looking deep into her eyes. “Our holiday will be anything but peaceful. You know what the Potheroes said; there is a great deal of noise and bustle in Cairo, and it lacks the luxuries we have here.”

“I know, but I am not regretting it; quite the contrary, I am looking forward to it. But I still welcome moments like these, when we have time entirely to ourselves.”

“Then let us make the most of them before our guests arrive,” said Darcy, bending his head to kiss her.

Those few precious hours spent together refreshed their spirits, and when they went inside they were ready to welcome their guests, who would be shortly arriving.

Having sent the carriage for Mr Inkworthy, they gathered together the children and settled themselves in the formal drawing room. They were joined by Edward, who was eager to meet their guests.

Mr Paul Inkworthy was the first to arrive.

He entered the drawing room hesitantly, overawed by his surroundings, but he was welcomed cordially and invited to sit down.

He perched on the edge of a chaise longue and answered Elizabeth’s questions as to the comfort of his journey, his health, and the weather nervously, while all the time looking at her with an artist’s eye. He was introduced to the children and then to Edward, and he greeted them all with slightly less nervousness, again studying them with the peculiarly alert gaze of the artist.

As they continued to talk, his eyes wandered to the paintings adorning the walls, and Darcy said, “What do you think of my collection?”

“Good,” said Mr Inkworthy, nodding thoughtfully, “although that one is, I think, inferior.”

He spoke without any wish to offend, conscious only of the artistic merit of the piece.

“Indeed?” asked Darcy, interested.

Mr Inkworthy nodded, giving his reasons, and Beth surprised them all by joining in.

Mr Inkworthy looked at her in some surprise and then asked, “Do you paint?”

Beth nodded, pleased to be spoken to as an adult, and fetched one of her paintings, a watercolour of the garden.

“Interesting,” said Mr Inkworthy as he took it, studying it at arm’s length. “The colour is remarkable for one so young, and the…”

But unfortunately for Beth, who was glowing under the praise, the door opened at that moment, and Sophie Lucas walked into the room. Paul was struck dumb and rose slowly to his feet, captivated by her ethereal beauty. Edward, too, could only stand and stare as she made her way into the room, followed by her parents.

Elizabeth stepped forward to greet her, noting with satisfaction that Sophie’s eyes had flickered slightly at the obvious effect she was having on the two young men. Such undisguised admiration was just what Sophie needed to restore her vitality, in Elizabeth’s opinion, having been jilted by a young man who had led her on to satisfy his own vanity and then left her for an heiress.

Although the flicker in Sophie’s eyes quickly died, it was a start, and Elizabeth looked forward to seeing what a few months in their company, in the exotic and colourful country to which they were heading, would do for her young friend.

The introductions had hardly been performed when Mrs Bennet made her entrance, calling out, “There you are, Lizzy. You have a new sofa, I see. And where are my grandchildren?” she cried, opening her arms to them and doing everything in her power to excite them.

Beth bobbed a curtsey, William shook his grandmother’s hand, and John stood to attention, while Laurence and Jane flung themselves at their beloved grandmama, and Margaret embraced her knees.

“How you have all grown!” exclaimed Mrs Bennet. “I declare you are the tallest children for your age I have ever seen. Are they not, Lady Lucas?”

Lady Lucas remarked that her own grandchildren were taller, and Mrs Bennet replied that no, she had seen the Lucas grandchildren but recently, and they were, if anything, small for their age.

Elizabeth sought to divert her mother’s attention by asking after her journey. But it was an unfortunate choice of subject, for Mrs Bennet remarked that the Lucas’s carriage was very cramped and not at all comfortable.

Luckily, Laurence hit upon a better topic by saying there were no carriages in Egypt, and they would all have to ride on camels. Mrs Bennet said he must take care that the camel did not bite him, to which Laurence replied that the camel must take care that he did not bite it. Mrs Bennet said he wouldn’t, Laurence said he would, and the argument entertained the pair of them until the housekeeper mercifully arrived and showed Mrs Bennet and the Lucases to their rooms.

The children eagerly followed them, hoping for sweetmeats from their indulgent grandmama.

Elizabeth looked at Darcy as the door closed behind them and sank down onto the sofa, laughing. Edward laughed, too, and Mr Inkworthy, looking embarrassed, walked over to the window and effaced himself by admiring the view.

***

“Well,” said Elizabeth to Darcy that evening as they dressed for dinner, finding themselves alone for the first time since luncheon. “What an exhausting afternoon!”

He smiled. “It was certainly entertaining.”

“There was a time when you would have found it horrifying,” Elizabeth said.

“I must have mellowed with age,” he returned. “Besides, it had its satisfying moments. It was good to see Sophie becoming a little more animated.”

“Yes, it was. Both Edward and Paul Inkworthy are very taken with her.”

Darcy looked smug, and on Elizabeth wondering aloud why that was, he said, “Let us just say that I am glad Mr Inkworthy has another object for his attentions.”

“Another?” she asked.

“When I went to see him in his studio, I found him with a half-finished portrait of you on his easel. He was at first uncomfortable to be discovered with it, but he soon lost himself in his enthusiasm for your fine eyes. He had caught them very well, but not well enough for his own satisfaction, and he promised me to do better once he had a chance to study you further.”

“You do not mean you were jealous?” she said as he slid his arm around her waist.

“Jealous?” he asked innocently, kissing her on the neck.

“I do believe you were!” she said.

“Well, and what if I was? I am your husband. I have every right to be jealous if a gifted artist takes a fancy to my wife—even if he is not very handsome.”

“No?” enquired Elizabeth provocatively. “He is not conventionally handsome, perhaps, but there is something very attractive about him. There is no denying he has a certain charm.”

“It is a good thing we are not already on the ship, or I would be tempted to throw him overboard,” Darcy said, nibbling her ear.

“Then perhaps I had better leave him to Sophie,” said Elizabeth. “It will do her good to have two men competing for her attention. Besides, I already have the man I want,” she said happily, turning in the circle of his arms and giving herself up to his embrace.

***

The next few days followed the pattern of the first. Mrs Bennet spoiled her grandchildren, who enjoyed all the attention—all except Beth, who, gratified by a real artist’s praise, spent her days at her watercolours, glowing with pride when Paul noticed her efforts and made some kindly remark.

But Paul’s real attention was given to Sophie, and he spent most of his time either sketching her or watching her in silent adoration.

Edward was not so silent. He endeavoured to interest Sophie in his enthusiasms and succeeded in bringing the occasional smile to her lips. But then she drew back, like a child drawing her hand back from the fire at the memory of a previous time when, seeking to warm herself, she had been burned.

Sir William and Lady Lucas spoke at length of their daughter Charlotte and Charlotte’s husband, Mr Collins, who, with Mr Darcy’s help, had acquired a valuable living. Elizabeth had to smile when Lady Lucas remarked that Mr Collins spent long hours with his parishioners and that Charlotte bore his frequent absences without complaint.

But the morning of their departure arrived without any real arguments, and Elizabeth heaved a sigh of relief as everything was packed and trunks were carried downstairs. She had the occasional sinking feeling that they would not be ready in time, but at last everything was done. The children were put in one of the Darcy coaches with their grandmama; the Lucases offered a seat to Edward, who accepted with alacrity; Paul Inkworthy accepted the offer of a seat on the box next to the coachman, leaving Darcy and Elizabeth to make the journey in Darcy’s phaeton.

There had been some debate about whether they should travel for one long day or stay overnight at an inn and have two shorter journeys, but it had been decided in the end that they should break their journey so as to arrive at the ship feeling refreshed.

The decision proved a good one, for when they drove into Southampton the following day, they were not too tired to enjoy the wonderful sight which met their eyes.

“Well, what do you think of it, my dear?” asked Darcy as he helped Elizabeth down from the phaeton.

Elizabeth looked around her, taking in the busy harbour, which was full of hurrying men and women, horses, carts, and, above them, wheeling seagulls. She breathed in deeply, inhaling the salty, fresh air, as her eyes came to rest on their own vessel. She looked at it with awe. It was a large ship, freshly painted, which boasted two tall masts, each with five billowing white sails of increasing size and two smaller ones at the front. Sailors in rough working clothes, their hair dipped in tar, scurried along the decks. All about them was hustle and bustle.

“Magnificent,” she said appreciatively.

Her children stared in wonder, for they had never seen anything like it.

John was gaping in something akin to adoration at the way the sailors scrambled up the masts with the agility and confidence of monkeys.

“So, John,” came a familiar voice behind them, “do you think you might like a life in His Majesty’s navy, rather than in the army?”

They turned to see Colonel Fitzwilliam, and John’s face lit up. He took a step forward and looked as if he were about to hug his father’s cousin, before pride got the better of him and he stood to attention.

“No, sir,” he said. “It’s the army for me.”

“Good boy!” said Colonel Fitzwilliam approvingly.

John was not the only one who was pleased to see the colonel.

“Brother!” said Edward, greeting him warmly and clasping him by the hand. “I wondered if you might come to see us off.”

“I was in the neighbourhood and could not resist,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. “The Darcy expedition is the talk of the port. It is not often that someone can afford to commission a ship to take them all the way to Egypt. You were wise,” he said, turning to Darcy. “It is no small thing to take a family so far. I think you will have good fortune, though; she is a fine ship. Her captain, too, is well spoken of.” His gaze wandered from the ship back to John, who was eager for his attention. “It will be an opportunity for you to find your sea legs, John. As a soldier, you will often be transported to the scene of battle by the navy, and you must accustom yourself to life aboard.”

“Yes, indeed, John,” said Mrs Bennet, who had been silent for two minutes and could manage no more. “And I am sure it would do me good, too. Some sea air is just what I would like to set me up. A sea voyage is just what I need.”

Elizabeth and Darcy exchanged glances, but otherwise ignored this hint, as they had ignored every other hint, large and small, dropped by Mrs Bennet since her arrival at Darcy House.

“I think I see the captain,” said Darcy diplomatically. “Let us board.”

They made their way up the gangplank. This mode of entry proved irresistible to Laurence, who ran up and down it several times until he nearly overbalanced. He was just about to fall into the ocean when he was caught by Paul Inkworthy, who was bringing up the rear.

The entire party was welcomed on board by a tall man of middle years, his fine military posture and smart uniform immediately proclaiming him the captain of the ship.

“Captain Merriweather, may I introduce my wife, Mrs Fitzwilliam Darcy,” said Darcy.

Captain Merriweather took her hand and kissed it lightly.

“I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, ma’am,” he said.

“As I am yours, sir. This is indeed a splendid ship.”

He smiled, pleased at the compliment. “I like to think so, ma’am, though I own I may be prejudiced. My wife tells me I pay more attention to this vessel than I do her or my children.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed, and the two men greeted each other with respect.

“You have every reason to be proud, Captain,” said Elizabeth, looking around her.

Once on board, she found the ship was even finer than she had thought. As Darcy continued with the introductions, her eyes wandered over the masts and wheel, to the ship’s crew and the barrels of provisions which were being rolled on board.

“And is this the last of your luggage?” asked Captain Merriweather, as trunks followed the Darcys.

“It is.”

“Then I will see that it is stowed safely below. We will be leaving with the tide in the next hour, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, as he left them to see to essential matters. “I must ask you to make all necessary preparations and say your good-byes before then.”

He nodded to Darcy and marched off along the deck.

“How exciting it all is, Lizzy,” said Mrs Bennet. “And what a wonderful ship. Do you not think so, Lady Lucas?” She turned round. “Lady Lucas?”

But Lady Lucas, together with her husband and daughter, had already gone below.

“I daresay they are looking at Sophie’s room,” said Mrs Bennet, adding in an aggrieved tone of voice, “though why you had to invite Sophie Lucas when you have four perfectly good sisters of your own, I cannot imagine.”

Elizabeth was glad that the Lucases were not there to hear such an uncharitable sentiment, and to distract her mother’s thoughts, she said, “Let me show you our cabin.”

One of the cabin boys was on hand to show them the way, and they followed him slowly down the spiral staircase. The accommodation was rather cramped after the spacious and luxurious surroundings of Darcy House as well as Pemberley, but nevertheless Elizabeth regarded it as part of the adventure. And besides, for shipboard accommodation it was unusually spacious. The Darcys had taken over an entire deck, and she could tell from her children’s excited shrieks that they were delighted.

As well as quarters for the servants and tutors that they had brought with them, there was a master bedroom for herself and Darcy and a cabin for the boys, while the girls were sharing another. Edward had a cabin next to Mr Inkworthy. Since the two men had become somewhat cool toward one another, especially when in the company of Sophie, Elizabeth could only guess at how their relationship might progress during the journey. As for Sophie, she had been allocated a tiny little room all to herself, and Elizabeth heard murmurs of interest from the Lucases, who were examining it together.

“Mama, do come and look,” shouted Laurence, running up to her. Taking her hand, he pulled her toward the cabin he was to share with his brothers. “The windows are round.”

“They’re called portholes, Laurence,” William informed him disdainfully.

Laurence ignored him.

“And look, little beds on top of each other too.”

William rolled his eyes. “Bunk beds,” he said.

Laurence poked his tongue out at his older brother.

“Mama, I want to sleep on one of the top ones, but John and William won’t let me.”

“You must all take it in turns, my darling. That is what Papa and I will do.”

“Mama, you do not have bunk beds in your room.”

“Well then, you must let me take it in turns to share the top one with you!” Elizabeth replied, her eyes twinkling.

Just then Jane and Beth appeared, and both Elizabeth and Mrs Bennet were taken to admire the girls’ cabin.

They were joined at length by Darcy, who made it clear in his polite but determined fashion that Mrs Bennet should join Sir William and Lady Lucas, who were now being shown back to the top deck by Sophie in order to disembark from the ship.

Fond farewells were exchanged, although Elizabeth could not help feeling guiltily relieved that Mrs Bennet would soon be on her way back to Meryton.

As Elizabeth began to accompany her mother up to the top deck, Beth appeared from the girls’ cabin.

“Mama,” she said in agitation, “do please come quickly. Jane says she is feeling sick.”

After the way Jane had been eating sweetmeats, which had thoughtfully been provided for her by her grandmama, Elizabeth was not surprised. She looked at her mother accusingly for a moment, but Mrs Bennet returned her gaze innocently and said, “It is the motion of the ship, no doubt, all this bobbing about on the water. Be off with you, Lizzy; pray do not worry about me. I am sure I can find my own way to shore.”

Elizabeth embraced her mother and wished her a fond farewell, then followed Beth to find Jane lying on one of the bunks and looking very green. The motion of the ship was not helping matters, nor was the rather stale air below.

Being a great believer in fresh air herself, Elizabeth first admonished her daughter for eating too many sweetmeats and then, holding out her hand, led Jane up onto the deck.

A fresh breeze was blowing, and in a few minutes Jane was starting to look a little better. The activity all about them was good for her, too, as it took her mind off her ills. Sir William and Lady Lucas were hurrying down the gangplank, while the sailors waited impatiently for them to reach the dock so that they could cast off. The boys were leaning eagerly over the ship’s rail, watching all the activity.

The last of the guests having departed, the sailors loosed the thick rope that secured the ship then sprang lightly aboard, pulling up the gangplank as the ship rolled on the waves and began to pull away from land. On the dock, the Lucases turned to wave to Sophie, and Colonel Fitzwilliam saluted the passengers, giving a special smile to John.

From his specially chosen vantage point on board, Paul Inkworthy made rapid sketches of the sailors, the port, the passengers, the ship, and the seascape, while Edward enquired after Sophie’s comfort, wondering if he could bring her a shawl or anything else she might require. Sophie, still looking wan but with some animation, said that she would appreciate her shawl, and Edward hurried off to get it.

“Well, we are off,” said Darcy, coming up behind Elizabeth and offering her his arm.

She took it gladly, her eyes bright. “We are indeed. Let us hope the rest of our journey goes so smoothly.”

“Is there anything wrong with Jane?” asked Darcy, as he noticed that his daughter was quieter than usual.

“No, only a stomachache. Mama has been feeding her sweetmeats.”

“That is one danger we will no longer have to worry about!” said Darcy with a laugh.

“No. Much as I love my family, I…”

Her voice trailed away and a look of horror spread over her face.

Darcy looked at her curiously. “Is anything wrong?” he asked.

“Tell me I am dreaming. Tell me it is a trick of the light or a hallucination,” said Elizabeth faintly.

He followed her gaze and saw… Mrs Bennet, coming up from below!

“Oh dear,” said Mrs Bennet blithely. “What a catastrophe! I must have taken a wrong turn down below. And I was so sure I knew my way onto the deck. But I found myself in a storeroom with a lot of barrels, and then I found myself in another room with boxes and trunks, and somehow I could not find my way back to the gangplank,” she said with an unconvincing sigh. “And now the ship has sailed. It seems I must come to Egypt with you after all.”

“No!” said Elizabeth, horrified. “That is, I am sure there is still time for you to disembark.”

But the captain looked at her regretfully and said, “I am afraid that all who are aboard must stay aboard, Mrs Darcy. The tide waits for no one, ma’am.”