Elizabeth felt a momentary sadness that her father was not with them, but he was visiting Jane and intended to travel with his eldest daughter when she visited Pemberley the following week.
“Was this not fortunate?” said Mrs Bennet as she entered the drawing room a few minutes later. “Mr Inkworthy and I met at the coaching inn and he insisted on bringing me on in his carriage, for you know your father could not let me have our carriage and so I had to come in a hack.”
Paul smiled and bowed and tried to look as though he had been delighted to find himself with Mrs Bennet’s company for the final stage of his journey.
He was looking much better than he had when he had joined their party as they set out for Egypt. Then he had been thin and pale; now he was looking healthy and prosperous.
There was an awkward moment as he saw Sophie, but then he made her a bow and she said how glad she was to see him, and the moment passed. He moved on into the room and began talking to Beth, praising one of her watercolours which hung beside the fireplace.
Their party was completed when Sir Matthew arrived, and they went in to luncheon.
The talk was convivial. They relived their adventures and caught up on all the news, and there was much merriment.
“I wanted Lydia and Wickham to accompany me,” said Mrs Bennet. “Lydia was eager to come, but Wickham said they had a previous engagement. It is a pity, for I am sure they would have liked to have seen the pictures of Egypt. They have never been to Egypt, nor are they likely to ever go. Wickham has not had the luck he should have had with his profession. If some people,” she said, looking straight at Darcy, “had given him the help he deserved, he would have been prime minister by now, and I daresay visited Egypt every year.”
This remark was wisely ignored as the main course dishes were removed and various fruits and desserts were brought in. As well as apples and pears from the Pemberley orchards, there were figs and dates to remind the party of their sojourn in Egypt.
“And how are you now, Sir Matthew?” asked Darcy of his older guest. Sir Matthew smiled.
“Perfectly recovered, as you can see, my dear sir. The rigours of illness in Egypt can be frightening while they last, but all things pass.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Darcy replied. “However, I believe you must be of a hardy stock, sir. When my father became ill in Egypt many years ago, my mother feared the worst.”
“My commiserations. Perhaps I should have said the rigours of a curse. My illness certainly concerned the fellahs at the dig. But since they thought it originated from a powerful magician intent on keeping an evil spirit at bay, I suppose one cannot completely blame them.”
Darcy looked over quickly to his other guests, but they were engrossed in the story Edward was telling about the sun god Ra and no one took any notice of the two older men.
“I have often wondered about the curse, Sir Matthew,” Darcy said. “Here in England it seems nothing more than a tale to amuse children on long winter nights. And yet sometimes I cannot help but wonder if perhaps there was some spirit at work on that day in the tomb. Almost everything that happened I can attribute to a simple explanation. And yet…”
“And yet still you wonder if there really was a tired restless soul longing for peace who took us to the site where so many others have failed?”
Darcy nodded. “Margaret has no memory of it now, but for the time we were travelling she took her doll everywhere—refused to be parted from it, in fact. Indeed, on at least one occasion, my wife removed it from her and hid it where it could not be found and still it made its way back to her. And without Meg…”
He trailed off. Without Meg wandering off by herself into the desert, it seemed likely they might not have survived. Sophie almost certainly would have died, and all Edward’s treasure would have availed him nothing.
“It is strange, is it not?” Sir Matthew agreed gently. He seemed to be about to say something else, but just then Elizabeth stood up and gaily declared the art gallery open and ready to be visited properly. Amid much laughter the entire company followed her.
For a good hour they walked up and down the gallery, admiring the paintings, much to Paul’s embarrassment. Mrs Bennet insisted on taking his arm and making him explain every single nuance to her and then spoiling the effect by hardly listening to a word he said. The younger children became bored after a while and soon ran off to the kitchens, where they knew the cook would have pastries for them. But Beth and William remained and the atmosphere grew quieter as at last they all found themselves in front of the largest painting, a group picture of the family in front of the lost tomb.
Paul, it was agreed, had outdone himself with this picture. The sun was a fierce orange ball hanging low in the sky in the late afternoon, and although the sky was a bright blue and the green of the palm trees contrasted strikingly against it, there were shadows in the corners that added a somewhat sinister cast to the painting. Darcy and Elizabeth were seated in prominence in the middle of the picture, with Sophie and Edward admiring a large golden vase slightly to their left. The children were dotted around the painting in various poses, Laurence atop a camel, which had pleased him greatly. Margaret sat on her mother’s lap, a doll in her hands, which could have been made of wood or just dressed in sombre browns. The little girl was pointing to the doorway of the tomb, which was shrouded in even more shadows. From within the tomb it was just possible to see flickering candlelight.
“A most striking depiction, young man,” Sir Matthew said, taking a pince-nez from his waistcoat pocket and peering closely at the painting.
“It is marvellously executed,” Edward said. “I have to confess I thought some of those sketches you took were a waste of time, but you’ve included details even I had forgotten about. But this is still my favourite,” he added, pointing to a smaller painting on the other side of the gallery. It was a picture of Sophie smiling as she sat in the shade of a palm tree, her parasol half-open against the heat of the sun.
“It is most charming,” Mrs Bennet said. “But look at this picture of the children and me at the oasis. I have insisted Lizzy let me take it home to Meryton so that her papa can see it. In fact, I think it would make an excellent addition to our parlour. It would take pride of place over the mantelpiece and Mr Bennet, I know, would be thrilled every time to…”
As she walked off with the young couple, Elizabeth and Darcy could not help but smile.
“This method of painting seems somewhat familiar to me, young Inkworthy,” Sir Matthew said, looking intently at a dark area of the canvas near the corner. Paul nodded.
“It is called chiaroscuro—the use of contrasts between light and dark. It has been practised by the greats since the Renaissance, and although I know it might seem a strange style to use when painting such a bright landscape, I felt it helped capture the sense of mystery of the tomb.”
“I believe your instincts were sound,” Sir Matthew said.
Paul bowed. “You flatter me, Sir Matthew,” he said as Sophie, laughing, called him over. With another bow he left them.
Sir Matthew continued to stare at the painting.
“You know,” he said standing back at last and addressing himself to Elizabeth and Darcy, who were left standing with him, “the contrasts of light and dark are very dramatic, but at the edges there are certain greys which I believe can be just as striking and even enigmatic.”
Elizabeth looked at him for a moment before exchanging a brief glance with Darcy.
“What is it that you see, Sir Matthew?” she asked evenly.