"Yes, your ladyship. We did not know his name for some time; he did not speak coherently for several weeks. The best we could tell, he had yellow fever and hadn't been able to rest enough to fully recover. When he began to get better, his memory was not entirely intact, but over the course of the following months, he regained it, along with much of his strength. He carried this with him." Mr. Prescott handed me a dirty envelope, which I opened immediately. In it was a photograph taken of me on our wedding day. I gasped. It was the picture I knew Philip had brought to Africa, the same one he showed to Renoir when he'd commissioned the portrait of me in Paris. There was no conceivable way that this man could have the photograph unless Philip had given it to him.
"I do not know what to say." I handed the picture to Ivy, who rang for Davis and ordered brandy. I could hardly breathe; my hands trembled uncontrollably. "He really is alive."
"Oh, yes, quite alive," Mr. Prescott replied. "When I left the mission, he was still not well enough to travel. I'm afraid he suffers terribly from malaria. Knowing that I would return to England before he could, he asked me to bring this picture to you to reassure you."
"Did he give you anything else?" Ivy asked.
"Yes, a letter to a chap called Palmer, which I posted for him in Cairo. I apologize for not getting here sooner, but I had planned to stop in Dover to see my parents before journeying to London. I only see them on my rare visits to England."
"Of course. Thank you, Mr. Prescott. Could I beg one more favor of you?"
"Certainly, Lady Ashton."
"Could you call on my friend Mr. Andrew Palmer and tell him the precise location of the mission? We have already planned a trip to bring my husband home."
"I would be honored to, Lady Ashton," he said with a rather undignified bow. I quickly penned a letter of introduction for him to give to Andrew and thanked him again. After he was gone, I hugged Ivy, Davis, and anyone else who crossed my path, delighted by this final confirmation that Philip was still alive. The trip to Africa did not seem nearly as daunting now that we knew where to find him; we might even be home before Christmas.
"Emily, I am so sorry I doubted that Philip might be alive," Ivy lamented. "Yellow fever and malaria! You shall have to take very good care of him."
"I have every intention of doing exactly that," I said, beaming.
31 DECEMBER 1887
ASHTON HALL, DERBYSHIRE
Anne's son showed signs of great intelligence, I think, when he tried to chew on the statue of Alexander the Great I presented him as a Christmas gift. My sister chastised me for giving the tot such an inappropriate gift-suppose wooden blocks would have suited her better, but I would rather serve as the uncle who inspires the little lord to greatness. Next year shall give him a copy of the Iliad to put under his pillow.
Have given Emory explicit directions on how to handle the impending arrival of my shipments. Much though I would like to supervise this myself, I see no need to alter my plans for Africa.
K has given me a small spyglass for Christmas. She and her friend Miss Ivy Cavendish were quite amused by the gift, which they selected together, and suggested that I take it on safari. I have not heard K's laughter before; it sounds like silver.
25
At last the day of our departure arrived. THE weather did not cooperate in the least, but the blinding rain had no effect on my high spirits. My heart was full of the joyous anticipation that should have marked the days preceding my wedding. Instead of picturing my groom at the altar, I imagined finding Philip tossing in a primitive bed, his straight hair damp with sweat. I would rush to his side, place my hand on his forehead, and he would immediately lie still. His eyes would open; the sight of me would give him the strength to sit up and kiss me passionately. After a pleasant interlude, I would admonish him to remember his health and he would agree to rest. I would sit with him, holding his hand until he slept, this time peacefully, with a slight smile on his face. I hoped we would be able to bring him home at once. The remainder of my romantic fantasies would be better executed at home, or at least at Shepherd's Hotel in Cairo, than in a remote African village.
Meg interrupted me before my reverie carried me further, saying, her voice filled with dread, that the carriage was waiting. I had realized that it would be highly inappropriate to travel with only Andrew and Arthur and decided to take her with me as far as Cairo. Beyond that, I hoped that the presence of guides would be enough to satisfy the proprieties. My poor maid had cringed at the thought of having to go abroad once again, but I was determined to turn her into a traveler. I presented her with a copy of Amelia Edwards's reminiscence, A Thousand Miles Up the Nile, with the hope that she would read it and be inspired to explore at least Cairo and its environs while the Palmers and I searched for Philip.
"Are you ready for our trip, Meg?" I asked.
"Oh, Lady Ashton, I think you would be much better off taking Mr. Davis or someone else," she said reluctantly.
"Nonsense, Meg. You shall enjoy yourself immensely, and I need you. Davis's place is here." She and my butler were the only members of the household who knew the true nature of my excursion; the rest thought I was going to Ivy's country house. Meg, for all her hesitation at consorting with foreigners, was a model of efficiency under any circumstance. Furthermore, no one else could match her skills in arranging hair. Davis would have been a singularly useful addition to nearly any expedition, but to take him would be unthinkable. Why on earth would my butler travel with me to someone else's house?
"Yes, madam," Meg replied halfheartedly.
I adjusted my hat and, with a final glance in the mirror, swept out of the room, past the commanding portrait of Philip's father in the hallway and down the wide staircase.
"Goodness, Emily, you look as if you could fly!" Ivy exclaimed.
"I am ecstatic at the prospect of some time in the country," I said, winking at Davis, who struggled to maintain his dignified posture.
"I sent your trunks to the station before breakfast, Lady Ashton, with precise written instructions for the porters."
"Thank you, Davis. I shall wire with any news," I whispered to him, patting his arm.
"Take care, madam," he replied. "We hope to have you home again very soon."
Within an hour Meg and I had settled snugly into our train. Margaret went to the station to see us off, and I waved frantically to her until the train pulled far from the station. The cold landscape outside the window made me feel doubly warm and exceedingly comfortable in our cozy private compartment. Andrew and Arthur sat with us for the beginning of the journey and then retired to their own compartment on the other side of the corridor.
"It is an excellent day to travel," I said to Meg when we were alone.
"But the weather is dreadful, Lady Ashton."
"I have always liked traveling by train in inclement weather. One is completely isolated from the elements and whisked away to emerge at a destination where the weather may be entirely different."
"I'm afraid it will be a rough time crossing the Channel, madam."
"I shouldn't worry too much, Meg." I remembered how seasick she had been during our return from Paris and wanted to put her mind at ease. "We shall hope for calm waters. Have you started your book?"
"Not yet, madam. There was no time, what with all the packing to tend to."
"You are free of all such distractions at present. Try to enjoy the journey, Meg." As she picked up her Amelia Edwards, I rummaged through my bag in search of a book for myself. I had taken Philip's copy of King Solomon's Mines from the bedroom at Ashton Hall and soon was engrossed in Mr. Haggard's story of adventure in Africa. Presently Meg asked if I was hungry and produced a spectacular picnic lunch, which I invited Andrew and Arthur to share with us. They appeared as unsettled at the prospect of dining with my maid as she was at eating in the company of gentlemen, but I did not pay them any notice.