Sophie looked up at the inky black sky with its fabulous blanket of stars. A warm night breeze ruffled the curls of her blonde hair and she looked delightful.
“Paul is also very charming, and apart from a few awkward moments at first, he has never been unpredictable. And that is a virtue I find very attractive, Elizabeth. Perhaps it is because of my misadventures last summer, but I do not intend to let anyone use me so badly again. I will not give my heart to someone who treats it as a toy to be played with—to be picked up in an idle moment and put aside when something more interesting offers itself.”
If Elizabeth had believed that Sophie felt more for Paul than Edward, then she would have said no more. But she was convinced it was Edward that Sophie really wanted.
“Well,” she said, “now that he has found his treasure he will have more time to spend with the living, and once his obsession has burned itself out, you will be able to discover if he is of an inconstant disposition or if this was a once in a lifetime distraction. Come, let us return to the party. The night is not yet old, and I believe Sir Matthew has many more toasts in him!”
They both laughed and returned to the table in a merry mood to see that the younger children had been escorted to bed but that William and Beth had been accorded the privilege of staying up later. Elizabeth was pleased to see her two oldest children treated with this new dignity, especially Beth, who was looking very grown-up in a long dress, with her hair in a grown-up hairstyle. Paul was talking to her gravely now, his forehead wrinkled in concern, and Beth was nodding seriously too.
“You seem very solemn,” Elizabeth said. “What can Mr Inkworthy be saying?”
“Forgive me, Mrs Darcy, I did not mean to bore Miss Darcy with my problems. I was simply explaining to her about the many sketches I have managed to make over the past few weeks. I did not expect there to be such an abundance of inspiration in an arid desert and now I am running out of paper. And yet there is still so much to document, especially when we return to the tomb tomorrow with the equipment and we will be able to see up close all the marvellous treasures the tomb has to offer. I believe I will have to return to Cairo to buy some more paper, but I am loathe to leave the dig at this exciting time, and I was asking Miss Darcy if she had any paper to spare. She has already given me some pages out of her sketchbook, but I fear there is no more paper to be had.”
“Hmm. A grave problem,” Darcy said. “One that I had not anticipated. I admit that even I thought you would only have to make a few sketches of palm trees and camels out here.”
“This is indeed a problem,” Edward interrupted, looking up from his own conversation with Saeed and Sir Matthew. “But maybe one that I can solve, at least temporarily. William, would you be so good as to go to my tent and find my documents case? I think I have some spare paper there.”
William jumped up from the table, returning a few moments later with the battered leather satchel Edward used to file all his documents. He pulled out a wad of papers and began sorting through them.
“There you are, Paul. I knew I had some paper to spare.”
So saying he handed Paul a thick notebook. It was very old and bound in battered red leather.
“You’re most kind,” Paul said, taking the book and skimming through the pages. “But are you sure about this? It seems to have some writing in it.”
“It belonged to my father. He gave it to me years ago when I was a boy and he thought my interest in Egypt was just a passing fad. I think he hoped I would become bored by his notes, and indeed some of them make dry reading. My father was very interested in the agricultural innovations of the farmers here. You remember the problems we have always had draining the lower fields at our estate?”
Darcy nodded. “It never seemed to improve no matter what he did.”
“Well, he wrote a great deal about the yearly Nile floods, and to be honest, I nearly did throw that notebook away. But further in he talks about the journey he and your father made, and some of the entries are fascinating reading. I thought they might be useful to us and so I brought it along, but I am happy to sacrifice the empty pages to Inkworthy’s art.”
Even his animosity to Paul had vanished, now that the tomb had been discovered.
“Thank you,” said Paul. “If you will excuse me, I will make a start. I want to make some further sketches while the images are still fresh in my mind.”
He made them a bow and then left them.
The conversation returned to the magnificent find. But just as Darcy was about to refill Elizabeth’s glass, one of the Egyptian servants appeared next to her with a broom in her hand.
“Apologies. I see a rat in your workbasket.”
Elizabeth jumped, horrified at the idea of a rat inside her embroidery silks. Seeing her distress, Saeed walked over to the workbasket himself and felt inside.
“There is no rodent in here, Mrs Darcy. The girl is just being overzealous.”
“Thank you, Saeed, you’re very kind,” Elizabeth said, but she felt a strange uneasiness. She, too, had thought she had seen the workbasket move, but there had been nothing inside it. Then, dismissing it as a trick of the light, she turned her attention back to the dining table, for Sir Matthew had just risen.
“I will wish you all good night, ladies and gentlemen. It’s been a long day and I’m not as young as I once was.”
Elizabeth thought he looked pale in the candlelight and felt another unaccountable stirring of unease. She asked him if he felt all right but he smiled as he took her hand and said, “Perfectly healthy, my dear. Just the rigours of the day catching up with me. Please stay and enjoy the rest of the evening with your family. I’ll see you all in the morning and then we will see what other wonders the tomb of Ammon and Husn has to offer us.”
Elizabeth watched him leave, waiting until he was safely in his tent before seating herself back at the table. She joined in the lighthearted conversation, as there was still a great deal of laughter after the excitements of the day, and soon her feelings of disquiet were put aside.
***
Paul had his own moment of unease on his way back to his room. As he passed the girls’ room, he heard murmuring coming from inside and stopped to listen, wondering if anything was wrong. He heard Margaret crying out, and although the words were indistinct he thought he caught the words, “No,” and “…ware.”
“Meg, be quiet,” he heard Jane say.
He wondered where the girls’ nursemaid was. She was meant to be sleeping with them, after Margaret’s sleepwalking episodes, but his question was answered a minute later when the nursemaid appeared, carrying a bowl of water.
“Miss Margaret was rather hot,” she explained. “I just slipped out for a minute and went to get some water to bathe her forehead. Is anything wrong?”
“No, not really. I heard Miss Margaret calling out in her sleep and I was concerned, but she seems to be sleeping again.”
And with that, he passed on and returned to his own quarters. He opened the book Edward had given him and for a time he was distracted by the account of Edward’s father’s excursion. The ink was somewhat faded now, but the words were still legible, and they told a fascinating tale.
“…today, George and I entered the tomb of the seven priests… the guides were against the visit from the start and refused to accompany us even after we offered twice the going rate… scorpions…” Here the writing became obscured by water damage, but he could make out enough of it to interest him. The tomb they had entered was unsafe but they were determined to explore it, as they were certain it was the tomb they sought. He managed to decipher the next bit: “…there was a landslide in the tomb, and as we had foolishly entered without guides we thought we were doomed. But luckily Wickham had remained behind as he was feeling a trifle unwell, and becoming alarmed at our absence he set out in search of us. Thank God he did! He worked tirelessly to free us, bloodying his hands raw and breaking a couple of bones tearing the stones away to leave an airway for us before going for help.”