Wickham scowled, but seeing that she would not be satisfied unless he told her everything, he said, “You know that my father was a friend of Darcy’s father? And a friend of Edward Fitzwilliam’s father, too, for that matter.”
“I know he was old Mr Darcy’s steward,” said Lydia unhelpfully.
“He should have never been a steward,” said Wickham, a flash of anger breaking through his crocodile charm. “He should have been a wealthy man and in a position to employ a steward himself, not become one. He saved old Mr Darcy’s life, and for that, old Mr Darcy rewarded him by making him his servant! My father was not born to be a servant. He was the son of a gentleman. He should have been a wealthy landowner. Then he would have left his estate to me. And he would have been, had old Mr Darcy valued the service my father did for him, saving his miserable existence.”
“I never heard he saved old Mr Darcy’s life,” said Lydia, her interest aroused.
“It was in Egypt, many years ago,” said Wickham. “When my father was a young man, before he met George Darcy, he was left a small inheritance and he used it to finance a Grand Tour. He visited France and Italy then he travelled on to Malta, where he met Charles Fitzwilliam and George Darcy. The three of them became friends and travelled on to Egypt together. They sailed down the Nile, stopping every now and then to explore half-visible temples which rose out of the mountains of sand. When they were returning from one such expedition, they found a man in the middle of the desert. He was lying in the full sun, collapsed, more dead than alive. He begged them to take him back to Luxor and promised them a reward if they did so.
“The reward meant nothing to them, but they did as he asked. However, by the time they arrived at Luxor he was so weak that he died. They paid for his funeral and afterward were surprised to find that he had left his few worldly possessions to them in his will, namely three pieces of a map and a curious Egyptian doll. He left a piece of the map to each of them, with the assurance that it pointed the way to an unplundered tomb. It showed various landmarks and had an inscription in hieroglyphic writing. They did not believe him, as the tombs thereabouts had been plundered many times, but nevertheless they were curious and they set out to find it.
“But they never did, and their search came to an abrupt end when they had a terrifying experience, becoming trapped in a cave by a landslide. My father was on the outside at the time and he dug them out with his bare hands, working until they were bleeding and raw. And what happened once he had rescued them? They returned to Luxor and thence to England to resume their lives.
“Charles Fitzwilliam returned to his estate in Cumbria, George Darcy returned to Pemberley in Derbyshire, but my father had nowhere to go. He had spent his small inheritance on his Grand Tour and did not know what to do. Instead of rewarding him handsomely for saving his life, George Darcy offered my father a job as his steward.”
“But what does that have to do with any treasure?” asked Lydia.
“I think that Charles Fitzwilliam’s son Edward has discovered the map and knows where to find the tomb,” said George. “Once your mother told us he was going to Egypt, I made some enquiries and discovered that ever since last winter, he has been in constant contact with various men who are engaged in trying to decipher the Egyptian hieroglyphs found on the Rosetta Stone. And when I found that he was intending to travel to Egypt, I was sure. There are men here who are experts and whose help will be invaluable to him, and when he finds out where the tomb is hidden, he will be in the right place to look for it. The fact that Darcy is with him confirms it. They are trying to find the treasure, and they are doing it without me. They have two parts of the map and they must feel that, with the new clues revealed by the hieroglyphs, they do not need the third.”
“But you have the third part?” said Lydia.
“Alas, no, I do not have it. It was destroyed, which is a pity, as it was the section of the map which marked the exact spot. But no matter. I have something better than the map. I have a plan.”
“And when we have found the tomb, will all the treasure make us rich?”
“Very rich,” said George.
“Rich enough to buy a home of our own?”
Wickham smiled, and restored to good humour, he picked his wife up and kissed her. “Rich enough to buy us a palace.”
Chapter 8
The Darcy party set out for Cairo a few days later. The intervening time had been spent seeing the Alexandrian sights, with Edward conducting them around a series of marvels, helped by a hired interpreter.
The morning of their departure dawned hot and clear. There was much excitement as they boarded the low, flat boats. The triangular sails billowed out in the breeze and the boats pulled out into the river. The water was a clear turquoise and the fertile banks were green with bushes, while farther off the greenery gave way to the golden sands of the desert.
Beth found a shady spot and took out her sketchbook, producing a creditable drawing of the river. Paul went over to look and suggested some ways in which she could improve upon it and Beth thanked him with a faint blush.
Elizabeth, watching from the other side of the boat, realised with a start that this was not just hero worship.
Darcy, coming over to her, said, “What is it?”
“Beth,” said Elizabeth. “I think she has developed a tendre for Mr Inkworthy.”
“Nonsense,” said Darcy. “She is just a child, far too young to be developing a tendre for anyone.”
“She is nearly fourteen,” said Elizabeth. “When I was her age, I became infatuated with the Meryton curate. Other girls become infatuated with their dancing masters. It is not uncommon.”
“She cannot marry an artist,” said Darcy.
“My dear, she has no intention of marrying him, only of worshipping from afar and hoping he will notice her, as he does occasionally. Fortunately he is a kind young man and he will not play on her feelings, despite the fact that she is an heiress.”
“No,” said Darcy, “I believe he is the sort of man who would never be tempted by money, for if he was, her age would not protect her for long. Georgiana was only fifteen when Wickham attempted to run away with her.”
“But Wickham is a very different man than Paul Inkworthy. I think we are fortunate that Beth has picked him for her first infatuation. She will come to no harm with him.”
“You are right, my love,” said Darcy, putting his arm round her waist.
She detected something wistful about the gesture and asked him if anything was wrong.
“No, not really,” he said. “Only… we are losing them, aren’t we?”
Elizabeth leaned her head on his shoulder.
“Ever so slowly, yes,” she said. “It has to happen, you know. You told me so yourself.”
“Yes, I did, did I not? Only this feels different. To lose the boys to school is one thing, but to lose Beth herself is another. She is changing before our eyes. What will we do when she grows up? When they all grow up?”
Elizabeth gave a sigh.
“I do not know. But we have not lost them yet,” she said, rallying.
“No,” said Darcy, rallying too. “And when we do, there will be compensations. We will have more time to spend by ourselves. And speaking of more time to ourselves, when we land I will be taking you on the first stage of your surprise. You have not forgotten I promised it to you?”
She was immediately curious but he would say no more. She teased him about it until they finally landed and continued to tease him as they left the boats behind and covered the short distance to Cairo, passing cultivated fields in which oxen worked, but he was infuriatingly silent on the subject.