But now here they were, alone, save for the guards who kept a distance so discreet as to be invisible.
The camel began to walk more quickly and Elizabeth sat up, the better to keep her balance. Up ahead, the unbroken sand dunes gave way to the blues and greens of the oasis, which shone like a sapphire nestling in its golden setting. It was surrounded by tall palms, whose branches swayed and rustled in the breeze. Beneath them was a surprising carpet of ferns and wild flowers, and the whole glowing scene was reflected in the water.
The camel came to a halt beneath one of the palm trees. Darcy dismounted as the animal knelt, and then helped Elizabeth down, before tethering the animal nearby.
Darcy took Elizabeth’s hand and they walked to the far side of the pool, taking the picnic hamper with him and setting it down beside a luscious fern.
Elizabeth breathed in deeply. Away from the camel the air was sweet, far sweeter than it was at the dig, and the coolness of the water and the whisper of the palms was reviving.
Elizabeth sat down beneath one of the palm trees and Darcy sat beside her. They sat in the shade and remembered anew why they had fallen in love with one another, thinking how lucky they had been to find each other, for although Darcy was not always the easiest of husbands, Elizabeth knew he was the only man she could ever have married. She loved to see him like this, away from the cares of Pemberley and away from the responsibilities of his life in London—away from his young cousin, too, and away from the children, for much as she loved them, there were times when Elizabeth wanted Darcy to herself.
He sat with one knee up, in an attitude he would never adopt at home, with one arm resting negligently across it. His cravat had been discarded and his shirt was open at the neck. His dark hair was disordered by the breeze and his face was tanned by the sun, making his teeth show white against it. She put her hand up to his cheek, stroking her finger across his finely chiselled cheekbone and then leaned toward him and kissed him.
He took her chin in his hand and they kissed for long minutes. Time stood still. They lived for the moment and the pleasure of being together. At last their lips parted and they talked of their love for each other as Darcy stroked Elizabeth’s hair and she rested her hand on his thigh, feeling the strong muscle beneath the fabric, and then they kissed again.
Beside them, the picnic hamper laid untouched and ignored.
But by and by, as the day progressed and the light began to fade, they found themselves growing hungry. At last they turned their attention to the selection of food they had brought with them. Elizabeth took a ripe fig from the hamper and shared it with Darcy, the succulent flesh tasting exotic against her tongue. Then they shared some little cakes, feeding each other with the delicacies, which were rich with the sweet taste of honey and pungent with the aroma of nuts.
The evening passed in lazy delight, with no one to please but themselves, as they kissed and ate and relaxed, happy in each other’s company—now talking, now silent; now looking at the stars that began to appear in the darkening sky; now having eyes only for each other, refreshing their spirits with the beauty of the oasis, which provided a calm haven for them in the everyday bustle of their lives.
Elizabeth felt her eyelids drooping at last as the evening turned to night and she lay back against her husband, falling asleep against his chest. He smiled and kissed her hair, reaching out toward the hamper carefully so that he would not wake her and pulling out a blanket which he laid gently over her. Then his head, too, drooped, and he fell asleep, his head resting on hers and his arms around her, holding her safe.
***
Darkness had fallen back at the camp, too, and Edward sat alone by the dinner table listening to the night sounds. He had just bidden Sir Matthew good night and was considering retiring himself when he saw a figure make its way toward him by the dim light of a candle.
“I think I may have left my shawl here,” said Sophie. “It is becoming cooler at night.”
“Here let me help you look for it,” Edward replied, springing up. They both searched around the table and chairs and eventually found it lying on the sand.
“Thank you,” said Sophie. She hesitated. “It seemed strange not to have Elizabeth and Darcy with us tonight.”
“Yes, it did. I especially missed Elizabeth. She has a way of dealing with Mrs Bennet… well, let us just say that Mrs Bennet is better when Elizabeth is here.”
Edward was out of humour with Mrs Bennet, for she had spent the time since dinner making arch comments about Sophie and Paul, who had returned to the camp arm-in-arm, oblivious to the obvious discomfort of the parties concerned and oblivious to Edward’s irritation. Worse still, Mrs Bennet had let drop that Paul had told her he had been approached by a wealthy patron in Cairo. She had said it as a means of self-aggrandisement, to show how important he was and therefore how important his portrait of her was, but it had affected Edward in a different way, for he knew that if Paul acquired a wealthy patron, one who intended to sponsor him for years, he would be in a position to take a wife. That thought had made Edward morose.
What does she really think of him? thought Edward, glancing at Sophie and trying to read the answer in her face. Does she prefer him to me?
Sophie blushed. “Mrs Bennet means well.”
“No doubt,” he said shortly.
Sophie turned to leave and he felt ashamed of his bad temper. He asked her forgiveness, saying, “I have not been very good company this evening, I fear.”
Sophie hesitated. “I think something is troubling you. If you have a problem I hope that you feel you can speak to me—as a friend,” she hastily added.
“As a friend,” he said in a hollow tone. Then he rallied and said, “Very well, then, as a friend. Since you ask, the past few days have not gone as well for me as I had hoped. I sometimes wonder if Darcy is right and if my obsession is becoming unhealthy. I feel as if something has taken hold of me, something outside myself, something that is driving me on. I almost wonder…”
He stopped himself just before saying something ridiculous: that he almost wondered if the strange doll he had found in the attic had something to do with it. He had known a little of her story before leaving England, but a souk seller in Cairo had told him more: that Aahotep had been apprehended soon after her wicked deed by a powerful magician named Ptah, who had been hired by the family of the murdered lovers. Ptah had trapped her spirit on the mortal plane and doomed it to walk the earth, “where it will remain until she can find a way of making amends.” Edward had smiled at the notion and asked, “And how is Aahotep to make amends for her crimes?” To which the souk seller had said, “In the usual way, of course; she must find some innocent to transport her to the tomb so that she can beg the forgiveness of the two lovers she so cruelly murdered, and then she will be allowed to rest.”
It was nonsense, of course, but even so, Edward could not shake an uneasy feeling that Aahotep was indeed returning to the tomb of the murdered lovers and that both he and the innocent Margaret were helping her.
Shaking aside his strange thoughts, he said, “Darcy is not pleased with me.”
“Are you surprised?” she asked, and Edward found himself forced to shake his head in agreement.
“No. No, I am not. I should have told him about the map. But I did not because I knew how he would view it. He would have told me that the map led my father astray and it would do the same to me.”