An Egyptian Affair (The Regent Mysteries Book 4)

by Cheryl Bolen

  "You might wish to tell him that Ladies Daphne and Rosemary Chalmers, daughters of the Earl of Sidworth, are among our group," Mr. Arbuthnot said. "I believe he's old friends with their father." Mr. Arbuthnot could not have looked more self-satisfied had the Earl of Sidworth been his father.

  The aide returned a moment later. "His lordship wishes you to come to his tent."

  Five of them? His tent must be considerably larger than theirs. She soon saw that it was. It immediately brought to mind things she had read about Napoleon's massive tent in which he carried an assortment of portable furniture. Only Lord Beddington's two-chamber tent—one was for sleeping, the other for entertaining—was more influenced by the Orient than the French. Silken pillows were scattered on the floor, and on one of these, the Englishman sat.

  The bearded man rose to greet the ladies. He dressed neither in the Turkish style nor in the Egyptian style, but wore the robes of desert sheikhs, his headdress held in place by a circlet of rope. He looked first at Daphne. "You must be Lady Daphne. I have always remembered your beautiful bountiful curls—that and your father's complete captivation over one very small, very charming girl. Since I only had sons, I was mystified."

  "Your memory is astonishing, considering that it's been almost twenty years since you were in England," she said.

  When he eyed Rosemary, Daphne facilitated the introduction. "Your lordship, this is my youngest sister, Lady Rosemary."

  He gallantly kissed her hand. "Another Chalmers beauty. I do believe you favor your lovely mother."

  Daphne completed the introductions, then he asked them to sit on the silken pillows.

  "I am surprised to find you here, my lord," Mr. Arbuthnot said. "I thought you'd thoroughly explored Gizeh last autumn."

  "I thought so too. Until I went to Thebes. Mailet and I wanted to compare stone work of the various periods. We've been here all week and shall return to Cairo tomorrow."

  "As will we," Jack said.

  "Do you mean you've also brought tents?" Lord Beddington asked.

  Jack frowned. "Yes, the ladies fancied a night in the desert."

  Lord Beddington effected a disappointed look. "A pity I cannot ask you to dine with us tonight. We're very low on food. That's another reason we return to Cairo tomorrow. That and the fact I long for my cool villa after living the life of a desert nomad."

  "I would ask you to dine with us," Mr. Arbuthnot said, "except that our fare will be very plain Egyptian food, and I know as much as your lordship has assimilated into the Oriental culture, you indulge in your French chef."

  Lord Beddington smiled.

  "We would be honored if you'd come to our camp after dinner for a glass of port," Mr. Arbuthnot said. "The Consul has kindly supplied our little group with some of his own stores that he brought from Madeira."

  "I shall." Lord Beddington looked at Jack. "So you have come to see Gizeh? Will you be going into the Great Pyramid?"

  "Yes," Jack said. "In fact, we were on our way when we noticed your camp."

  "Should your lordship like to join the party?" Mr. Arbuthnot asked.

  He shook his head. "I was in there yesterday. Had the devil of a time breathing."

  "Have you ever encountered snakes in the pyramids?" Daphne asked.

  The former ambassador chuckled. "I have not, but your fear of reptiles reminds me why I prefer to leave my wife in England."

  "Would that I could have," Jack mumbled.

  "What brings you to Egypt, Captain?"

  "We're all very interested in Orientology."

  Lord Beddington eyed Mr. Maxwell. "It's fortunate you've got so noted an Orientologist to be your guide. Are you not the Stanton Maxwell who wrote Travels Through the Levant?"

  "Indeed I am. I heard you mention Mailet. I have read all his works and look forward to meeting him."

  "As will I," Rosemary said. "I have also read his works."

  "He's still down in a mestaba this afternoon, but I shall bring him to your camp tonight when we join you for port." He sighed. "When I was a younger man, I used to be able to work at archeology all day, but no longer. I have adopted the practice of taking an afternoon nap."

  Daphne took that as a dismissal. She stood. "We need to go explore the Great Pyramid, my lord. We're only here for one day and need to see all we can see."

  "Tonight, then," he replied.

  Chapter 9

  As they had happily ridden across the desert, Jack had temporarily forgotten that a murderer had likely been dogging their every step. He'd felt carefree. Was it the unrestrictive native dress? He hadn't even minded the sun so fiercely bearing down on them as his camel plodded through the deep desert sand.

  But now that they were about to file into the depths of a dark pyramid, he was seized with misgivings about having come. Especially with the ladies. His gut told him something wasn't right. In these many years of clandestine activities involving life-threatening situations, his gut had never once misdirected him.

  The five Europeans stood beside the massive pyramid, looking up. They had put aside their flowing robes for clothing that would not inhibit their ability to crawl. The men wore their trousers but had left off the hot outer jackets. The ladies' dress was no different than their young Egyptian servants, who wore short, belted dresses the same length as a Scottish kilt. The soldiers, as well as the native servants, had been ordered to look away so as not see the ladies' exposed calves.

  "It's the tallest structure in the world," Arbuth-knows-it-all said.

  "Completely amazing that it was built more than four thousand years ago," Rosemary murmured, her gaze peeled to the upward progression of massive stones.

  "Are those limestone?" Daphne asked.

  "Yes," Maxwell answered. "The original facing was smooth and highly polished but has been stripped away for other buildings over the centuries."

  Just before they were about to enter the pyramid, Jack drew Maxwell aside and spoke in a low voice. "I want you to keep Lady Rosemary close to you at all times."

  "I was rather thinking the same thing."

  "You've got your pistol?"

  Maxwell nodded. "Have you one also?"

  "Yes. What about a knife? Do you have one?"

  "Always –"

  "When you're in the Orient."

  Maxwell chuckled.

  "Tell me, is it really safe in there?" Jack asked, fingering his own sheathed knife. "The ceilings won't come tumbling down or anything, will they?"

  "I've not heard of any fatalities."

  Jack eyed Arbuthnot, who was ten feet away. "Are you going to allow those nice clothes to get dirtied in the Great Pyramid?"

  The attaché shook his head. "As I've been in many times before, I shall pass this time. In fact this will be a very good time for me to catch up on some of my correspondence in the shade of our tent." He bowed. "I wish you all a fascinating journey." He started for the tent he would share with Maxwell.

  That left the two couples.

  "Where's the entrance?" Rosemary asked.

  "In the ninth century, the Arab Caliph Abdullah al-Mumun and his battering rams excavated the tunnel which is the present ground-level entrance," Maxwell said. "It is believed that in antiquity, the hidden entrance was much higher—up the equivalent of three or four stories of an English house."

  He led them around the base of the giant pyramid until they found the irregularly shaped opening. The actual arched opening was inset a few feet inside of the huge surface stones that were settled in a haphazard fashion. Maxwell then gave each person a lighted waxed candle.

  "At first we'll be able to walk." He peered at Rosemary. "In this case I think it will not be ladies first. I shall go first and scare away any offending creatures." He stepped into the tunnel, drawing his pistol, and fired off a shot.

  The sound was almost deafening.

  It was followed by mad flapping of wings and a flurried mass of black streaking by. Bats. Nasty, vile creatures.

  Soon the four of them were inside
and were climbing upward. It wasn't a wide enough passage to walk two abreast.

  "Mr. Maxwell?" Daphne asked.

  "Yes?"

  "Has anyone ever become lost in here?"

  "Not to my knowledge."

  Jack fancied himself a brave man. He'd faced cannon fire. Musket balls. Killers with knives. Hissing vipers. And the duc d'Arblier. But this damned dark tunnel beneath a four-thousand-year-old structure had him sweating profusely. And not just from the abominable heat. His pulse was behaving in a strange fashion, too. He'd be damned glad when they got out of this dark, suffocating shaft. And even happier when they got out of the bloody pyramid.

  He had the damnedest feeling that he could barely breathe. And he'd never been so hot. He shut his eyes against the rivulets streaming down his face.

  "Now we've come to a wall where the narrow surface resembles a ladder. We will need to climb it," Maxwell said.

  No easy task when one was holding a candle.

  "Are you all right?" Jack asked Daphne, his voice tender.

  "I don't think I can honestly answer that. This isn't what I'd imagined it would be like. I thought we'd just waltz in down a broad, lantern-lighted corridor and come to the pharaoh's burial chamber, see it, and come walking back out."

  Maxwell chuckled. "You ladies don't have to continue if it's too frightening for you."

  "I stay," Rosemary said, firmly. "As long as you vow to slay any serpents, Mr. Maxwell."

  "I give you my word."

  "You're not afraid of them?" Rosemary asked.

  "I don't suppose I am."

  "You're awfully brave," she said.

  Jack had to tip his hat to the man. Maxwell might be small of stature, and his vision so defective that—like Daf—he had to wear spectacles, but Maxwell was an extraordinarily brave man. During their sea voyage, Jack had read his Travels and marveled that a young man only just having left university would travel to the Orient completely alone and attempt the grueling trek across hundreds of miles of desolate desert without a single person from his own homeland.

  What courage!

  The higher they climbed, the hotter Jack became. How could the women possibly keep up with them under these stifling conditions? "Still all right, love?" he asked.

  "Allow me to say I'm still here," she said with a little laugh. "I'm still trying to determine if I'm all right."

  "What about you, Lady Rosemary?" Maxwell asked.

  She sighed. "I'm doing tolerably. Will it be much longer?"

  "Not long."

  "Are you sure there's air up there for us to breath?" Jack asked. The higher their elevation, the more he felt the need to gasp for air. Air that didn't seem to be there.

  "As I said, Captain, I've not heard of any fatalities."

  "I do hope we're almost there," Daphne said, "for right now on the pleasure scale, I'd have to rank this right up there with my honeymoon."

  Silence.

  "Just so that you all will know," Daphne clarified, "my honeymoon was not what one would think."

  "Allow me to elaborate," Jack explained. "My wife spent our wedding trip on a man-o-war violently retching out the contents of her stomach. For several days."

  "If you're feeling like that," Rosemary said without the least shred of concern, "then I am most happy that you're at the bottom of this ladder contraption."

  "I didn't actually say I was feeling like spewing. I said this ranks with spewing on a pleasure scale."

  "We've reached the end of this phase," Maxwell said, not a morsel of relief in his voice. "Now is when we have to crawl on our bellies through a very narrow shaft."

  Jack frowned. "And I suppose it, too, is dark."

  "My dear brother," Rosemary said, "everything inside a pyramid is dark."

  "Now you're sounding like Ralph Arbuth-knows-it-all," Jack quipped.

  The others chuckled.

  "Speaking of Mr. Arbuthnot," Maxwell said, "I don't mean to be uncharitable, but I'm a bit skeptical about his success in making it through this narrow shaft."

  "Because of his size, you mean?" Jack asked just as he slithered his considerable bulk along the narrow passage. While Jack was not portly like Arbuthnot, he was a large man whose above-average height was balanced with above-average bands of muscle.

  And he could barely maneuver through the dirty tunnel. It was bloody difficult to raise oneself upon one's elbows in order to propel oneself forward when there wasn't enough room to raise upward a few inches. He found himself shimmying from side to side in order to advance forward. At least the ladies were thin enough to more easily maneuver.

  "I declare, I would truly die if there were a snake in here," Rosemary said.

  "I'll protect you, my lady," Maxwell vowed.

  "This may surpass my wedding trip in unpleasantness," Daphne said, her voice thinning from the lack of air in the crowded tunnel.

  "We'll soon be able to stand," Maxwell said. "We're coming to the upper saloon. I think we'll breathe better there too."

  The upper saloon was much more tolerable, Jack decided as he drew up to his considerable height, then turned back to help Daphne get up.

  In this upper saloon, a giant could have stood.

  "Next up," Maxwell said, "the pharaoh's chamber."

  Maxwell stopped. "I'm perplexed. Usually there's a lantern burning in the pharaoh's chamber, but I don't see anything. It should be around here."

  A moment later, Maxwell said, "Here's the door."

  "Praise be to Allah," Daphne said.

  They heard the sound of Maxwell stepping into the room. He could then be heard addressing Rosemary. "Here, take my hand."

  What they heard next was horrifying.

  A crash of stones falling to a floor. Rosemary screaming.

  Jack's pulse splattered and pumped as he scurried toward the chamber, toward Rosemary. "Stay here, Daphne."

  Chapter 10

  Jack somehow flung himself into the debris in the funerary chamber. Powdery particles from fallen stones clouded his vision and momentarily choked him. “Rosemary, are you all right?” he called frantically.

  In the split second before she responded, he saw that she was in an opposite corner, standing, Maxwell in front of her, his knife unsheathed.

  “I . . . I think so,” she managed in a shaky voice. She had also managed to hold on to her candle.

  “What in the devil happened?” From behind him, he heard the soft fall of his wife’s feet and whirled to face her. “Did I not tell you to stay back there?”

  He could now see Daphne plainly. What a sight she was! Her white belted costume was covered with so much dirt that its original hue was unrecognizable. Everything—from her spectacles to her knees—was covered with dirt. Her hand holding the candle was shaking violently. She squinted madly at him. “I’ve told you before, if you’re going to die, I’m going with you.”

  He yanked her away from the site of the accident. “Have a care. Right where you were standing is where that heap of stones came tumbling down.” He turned back to Maxwell. “I thought you said this place was safe.”

  “I’ve never heard of the stones becoming dislodged. And it’s not as if either Lady Rosemary or I could be so heavy that our weight coming down would cause the stones to fall.”

  “Go over there with your sister,” Jack commanded his wife. Then he took his own candle to examine the entry corner where Rosemary or Maxwell could well have been killed. He held his candle high into the inky depths of the ceiling’s corner.

  His blood curdled at what he saw. “Someone has set a trap here.”

  Maxwell rushed forward to survey the upper corner. “By God, someone constructed a bloody lever to send the stones crashing when one of us entered this chamber!”

  Jack’s attention had transferred to the floor. Something there must have triggered the lever which released the volley of stones. Then he saw it. A length of string which reached from the floor all the way up to the lever near the ceiling. The pressure of one’s foot would
send the stones crashing down upon them.

  He stood there in silent contemplation for some moments. Who had known they were coming here today? Briggs and Arbuthnot, naturally, had knowledge of it, and since there was no reason for secrecy, either of them could have told others. There were the eight new Egyptian servants. Everyone associated with their hotel knew.

  Someone who knew their plans had come here—or sent a hired cutthroat—earlier to either kill them or scare them away from this inquiry. It wasn’t even as if they’d learned anything of value. Yet someone was nervous. Were they getting close? Damned if Jack could figure out how.

  “Did any of you see anyone who was not with our party?” he asked.

  The three others answered in the negative.

  Jack came to stand in the center of the chamber and drew a breath. “I’m going to ask that all of you keep this to yourselves. If the culprit is watching us for a reaction, he won’t get it. Let him think his plan failed. If he doesn’t think we’ll be suspicious, he might let down his guard.”

  “I applaud such a plan, dearest. When we do return to the others, each of us needs to be particularly vigilant, meticulously observant. Watch all the servants. Trust no one.”

  “That’s a risk one takes when hiring workers as we did yesterday. We don’t really know anything about them,” Maxwell said. “I have to think at least one of them could be in league with the person responsible for Prince Singh’s disappearance.”

  “You’re likely right,” Jack said. “If any of you want to return to Cairo—or even England—now, I will completely understand.”

  “I’m staying,” Rosemary said firmly.

  “And I’ve vowed to protect Lady Rosemary,” Maxwell answered.

  “Then it looks as if I will get to sleep in the tent with a tall, dark, Arabian-looking man,” Daphne said.

  Jack hated to alarm them further, but he didn’t like the idea of Rosemary sleeping in a tent alone. He would make sure the soldier on watch tonight paid particular attention to the young noblewoman’s tent.