“It depends on who is there,” she said, smiling to herself.
“You haven’t told me about the young man.”
“Well, he was about thirty, I should say.”
“Oh, not so young.”
“Young for a professor.”
“What’s his subject?”
“Egypt.”
“That seems a popular one.”
“Your parents tend to move in that particular circle.”
“Did you tell him I was named after the Rosetta Stone?”
“As a matter of fact I did.”
“I hope he was suitably impressed.”
And so we went on with our frivolous conversation and just because Felicity had enjoyed one of the dinner parties it did not occur to me that this might be the beginning of change.
The very next day I made the acquaintance of James Grafton. We had taken our morning walk Felicity and I and since we had heard the story of the forty steps and located them, we often went that way.
There was indeed a patch of ground where the grass grew sparsely and it really did look desolate enough to confirm one’s belief in the story.
There was a seat close by. I liked to sit on it, and so vivid had been Mr. Dolland’s reconstruction of the affair that I could imagine the brothers in their fatal battle.
Almost by force of habit we made our way to the seat and sat down. We had not been there very long when a man approached. He took off his hat and bowed. He stood smiling at us while Felicity blushed becomingly.
“Why,” he said, ‘it really is Miss Wills. “
She laughed.
“Oh, good morning, Mr. Grafton. This is Miss Rosetta Cranleigh.”
He bowed in my direction.
“How do you do?” he said.
“May I sit for a moment?”
“Please do,” said Felicity.
Instinctively I knew he was the young man whom she had met at the dinner party on the previous night and that this meeting had been arranged.
There was a little conversation about the weather.
“This is a favourite spot of yours,” he said, and I had a feeling he was telling himself that he must include me in the conversation.
“We come here often,” I told him.
“The story of the forty steps intrigued us,” said Felicity.
“Do you know it?” I asked.
He did not, so I told him.
“When I sit here I can imagine it all,” I said.
“Rosetta’s a romantic,” Felicity told him.
“Most of us are at heart,” he said, smiling at me warmly.
He told us that he was on his way to the Museum. Some papyri had come to light and Professor Cranleigh was going to allow him to have a look at them.
“It is very exciting when something turns up which might increase our knowledge,” he added.
“Professor Cranleigh was telling us last night about some of the wonderful discoveries which have been made recently.”
He went on talking about them and Felicity listened enraptured.
I was suddenly aware that something momentous was happening. She was slipping away from me. It seemed ridiculous to think such a thing. She was as sweet and caring as ever, but she did seem a little absentminded, as though when she was talking to me she was thinking of something else.
But it did not immediately strike me on that first encounter with the attractive Professor Grafton that Felicity was in love.
We met him several times after that and I knew that none of these meetings was by chance. He dined at the house once or twice and on each occasion Felicity joined the party. It occurred to me that my parents were in the secret.
Felicity bought a new dinner dress. We went together to the shop. It was not really what she would have liked but it was the best she could afford, and since she had met James Grafton she had become even prettier and she looked lovely in it. It was blue the colour of her eyes and she was radiant.
Mr. Dolland and Mrs. Harlow soon became aware of what was going on.
“A good thing for her,” said Mrs. Harlow.
“Governesses have a poor time of it. They get attached, like … and then when they’re no longer wanted it’s off to the next one until they get too old … and then what’s to become of them? She’s a pretty young thing and it’s time she had a man to look after her.”
I had to admit I was dismayed. If Felicity married Mr. Grafton she would not be with me. I tried to imagine life without her.
She was taking a great interest in ancient Egypt and we paid many visits to the British Museum. I no longer felt the awe of my childhood and was quite fascinated, and, spurred on by Felicity, I was almost as enthralled by the Egyptian Room as she was.
The mummies in particular attracted me . in a rather morbid way. I felt that if I were alone in that room with them they would come to life.
James Grafton used to meet us in the room sometimes. I would wander off and leave him to whisper with Felicity while I studied the faces of Osiris and Isis just as those who thought they were divine must have seen them all those years ago.
One day my father came into the room and saw us there. There was a moment of puzzlement until it dawned on him that here in this holy of holies was his own daughter.
I was standing by the mummy-shaped coffin of King Menkara one of the oldest in the collection when he came upon me. His eyes lit up with sudden pleasure.
“Well, Rosetta, I am pleased to find you here.”
“I have come with Miss Wills,” I said.
He turned slowly to where Felicity and James were standing.
“I see …” There was a look on his face which in others might have seemed quite puckish but with him it was just rather indulgently knowledgeable.
“You are attracted by the mummies, I see.”
“Yes,” I replied.
“It’s incredible … the remains of these people being here after all those years.”
“I am delighted to see your interest. Come with me.”
I followed him to where Felicity and James were standing.
“I am taking Rosetta to my room,” he said.
“Perhaps you would join us in … say, an hour?”
“Oh, thank you, sir,” said James.
I knew what my father was doing. He was giving them a little time alone. It was amusing to think of my father playing Cupid.
I was taken to his room which I had never seen before. It was lined with books from floor to high ceiling, and there were several glass-doored cabinets which contained all sorts of objects such as stones covered in hieroglyphics and there were some carved images.
“This is the first time you have seen where I work,” he said.
“Yes, Father.”
“I am pleased that you are displaying some interest. We do wonderful work here. If you had been a boy I should have wanted you to follow me.”
I felt I ought to apologize for and defend my sex.
“Like my mother .. ” I began.
“She is an exceptional woman.”
Yes, of course. I could hardly aspire to that. Exceptional I was not.
I had spent my happy childhood with people below stairs who had entertained me, loved me, and made me contented with my lot.
As the embarrassment which our encounters never failed to engender seemed to be building up, he plunged into a description of embalming processes to which I listened entranced, all the time marvelling that I was in the British Museum talking to my father.
Felicity and James Grafton eventually joined us. It was an unusual morning, but by this time I had realized that change was on the way.
Very soon after that Felicity became engaged to James Grafton. I was both excited and apprehensive. It was good to see Felicity so happy and to know something which had never occurred to me until Mrs. Harlow pointed it out, that she was secure.
But there was, of course, the question of what would become of me.
My parents were taking more interest in me, which was in itself disconcerting. I had been discovered by my father showing interest in the exhibits in the Egyptian Room of the British Museum. We had had a little talk in his room there. I was not exactly the ignoramus they had previously thought me. I had a brain which had lain dormant for all these years but I might possibly grow up to be one of them.