Amanda Grange & Jacqueline Webb (4 page)

“Yes,” she said.

“And we are agreed on the trip to Egypt?”

“Yes, a thousand times yes. It will be the holiday of a lifetime.”

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.”