“I cannot think why, when she has a lovely, new doll to play with,” said Mrs Bennet. She held out the new doll enticingly. “See, my lamb, this is so much prettier than that horrid creature covered in smudges. See how the headdress sparkles on this one. Ouch. And that nasty thing is covered in splinters!”
“Thank you very much, Grandmama, but I like Aahotep best,” said Meg gravely. “She talks to me.”
“Oh, how I remember my dolls all talking to me. There was a toy soldier of my brother’s, I remember, who used to ask me all the time to dance! But he was a nice, clean doll in a red coat, not a nasty, dirty thing. Just look at your new doll’s dress, Margaret. She will talk to you too if you give her the chance.”
Margaret looked disdainful, saying, “How can she, Grandmama? She is only a toy.”
“Only a toy?” asked Mrs Bennet. “Only a toy? Why, she is an Egyptian princess.”
“No,” said Margaret firmly, clutching Aahotep tightly and looking scathingly at the offered treasure.
“If I had spoken to my grandmama like that when I was a little girl…” Mrs Bennet began.
Knowing that Mrs Bennet’s tales of when I was a girl could last for hours, Elizabeth and Darcy exchanged glances.
“Meg, my darling, time to go to the schoolroom,” Darcy said, holding out a hand to Margaret, who took it happily, and the other children accompanied them—all but Beth and William, who were now old enough to eat with the adults. Meanwhile, Elizabeth put her arm through her mother’s.
“Come, Mama, let us go in to luncheon,” she said, leading her mother firmly away from the children.
“I cannot think why Meg is so enamored of that ugly thing,” said Mrs Bennet.
“All children have their foibles, as you well know,” said Elizabeth.
“I am sure I would never have allowed you to have something like that,” said Mrs Bennet. “When you were children…”
Elizabeth sought to distract her mother’s attention, for tales of Mrs Bennet’s exemplary maternal achievements were almost as frequent as her tales of when I was a girl. Luckily, Elizabeth did not have far to look, for Edward had met Sir Matthew Rosen that morning by arrangement at a local souk and had brought him back for luncheon.
“I hope I am not intruding,” said Sir Matthew, rising to greet them.
“Not at all,” said Elizabeth. “We are delighted to see you. How are things at the dig?”
“They are improving all the time. I have just secured the services of a physician, who will be joining us at the camp shortly. There are always minor injuries and illnesses on such a dig, and now that our numbers are growing, a physician is a useful man to have about the place.”
As they took their places round the table, Sir Matthew continued to tell them of the conditions in the camp, the progress that had been made, and the small treasures found, making sure to thank Edward for his patronage and to stress how vital his continued support would be to the continuation of the dig. He regaled them also with an account of some of the difficulties: the problems of hiring reliable workmen, the heat, and the ever encroaching sand.
“I cannot wait to see it for myself,” said Edward.
“Why do you not all come?” asked Sir Matthew.
Sophie brightened at once, while Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, his eyes saying, Sir Matthew is hoping for further investment in his work.
Elizabeth knew that this was Sir Matthew’s motive, but despite this, she found herself stimulated by the idea. It had been their intention to remain in Cairo, where it was relatively civilised, while Edward went on to the dig, but the lure of the desert had taken hold of her and she found herself longing to explore.
“Yes. Why not?” said Elizabeth, looking at Darcy.
“Because life on a dig is very hard,” said Darcy.
“Our dig is bigger than most,” said Sir Matthew. “We have almost a small village of tents, with easy access to the river and a wealth of interesting tombs in the vicinity. We have several renowned scholars working there, men with international reputations. It would be educational for the children, and of course this kind of opportunity does not come along very often. There are many discoveries to be made, not only of treasures but also of scholarship. Just think if we find another Rosetta Stone. We could name it the Darcy Tablet.”
Darcy laughed. “You know how to flatter your patrons.”
“But why not?” asked Sir Matthew. “Discoveries have to be given some name, and the name of the generous patron is surely the best one to give.”
“I think my cousin will be disappointed if I steal his thunder,” said Darcy.
“Not at all,” said Edward robustly. “You may have the privilege of giving your name to any significant historical or archaeological finds, while I will content myself with the treasure.”
“You still believe you will find your tomb?” asked Sir Matthew.
“I am certain of it.”
“Treasure?” said Mrs Bennet. “Oh, yes, I do hope we find some treasure. I would like a new necklace, for Mrs Long was wearing a diamond necklace before we left and crowing about how valuable it was. I am sure we will find something better here, or what was the point of coming all this way?”
Elizabeth forbore to mention to her mama that she had not been invited but had taken it upon herself without so much as an invitation.
“Well?” said Sir Matthew, looking at Darcy.
Darcy turned his glass in his hand. “When do you leave?” he asked.
“I was planning to return tomorrow, but if you will join me, I will wait for you and travel onward at your convenience.”
“And my expense?” asked Darcy good-naturedly.
“Naturally,” said Sir Matthew. “Further patronage is always welcome.”
Elizabeth glanced at Darcy with unmistakable enthusiasm.
“I can see that my wife will give me no peace if I refuse her this opportunity to live in a tent, where all her possessions will be covered in sand and where she will have nothing to entertain her but a hole in the ground, and so I accept. And as my wife will not consent to leave the children behind, we will all accompany you when you return to the dig.”
Sir Matthew bowed. “As to the patronage…” he began.
Elizabeth took her cue and stood up. She gathered the ladies with her eye and led them from the room, leaving the gentlemen to discuss the financial implications and the practical necessities of their onward journey. The ladies made their way to the cool, airy chamber they had claimed as their sitting room. While Mrs Bennet enthused about the portrait Mr Inkworthy was painting of her, Beth picked up her sketchbook and Elizabeth and Sophie turned their attention to writing some letters.
“It is about time I had my portrait painted,” said Mrs Bennet. “Your father would never commission one, though I asked him to time after time. I am looking forward to hanging it in the drawing room at Longbourn. How green Mrs Long will be.”
Mrs Bennet continued to relish the faces of her neighbours while the others worked at their appointed tasks.
“At least sand is one thing we are never short of in Egypt!” said Sophie as she sanded her letter. “Although the ink dries so quickly here it is not really necessary.”
“But it is hard to break the habit,” Elizabeth agreed. “Have you written to everyone? Once we set off down the Nile, there will be no more opportunity to post a letter until we return. I am sure the dig site is very primitive, despite Sir Matthew’s boast, and he only sends to Cairo once a month for letters and supplies.”