“Remains?” Belinda said faintly.
He either didn’t hear or simply ignored her and continued without hesitation. “It is extremely profitable to recover and sell the old things. My village has an arrangement with Monsieur Drovetti—”
“Who?” Wynne said.
Again he ignored the interruption. “We sell only to him and we do not tolerate the intrusion of others on our lands.”
“Very well,” Sabrina snapped. “You have my word, we shall not search for your damnable artifacts. Now will you please release us?”
He laughed once more; the caustic sound gnawed on her raw nerves. “Release you? That would be foolish indeed, English lady. We will trade you back to your kinsmen and turn a tidy profit. And if they do not pay”—she sensed his wicked grin—“we will simply sell you to someone else.”
A gasp broke from Belinda’s lips, and for once mother could agree with daughter. This was not going at all well. The silhouettes disappeared from the rim of the pit. The stars glowed dimmer now. It was nearly dawn. She could better make out the figures of Wynne and Belinda. What would happen to them all in the light of day?
“We have to get out of here.” Sabrina pushed her hair away from her face and paced. The ground gave with every step, her feet sinking slightly with each footfall. Odd. Already a fine dust covered her. “Whatever is beneath us?” She stamped on the ground, and a choking cloud enveloped them.
“Mother!” Belinda coughed and waved her arms frantically, trying in vain to dissipate the musty, insidious powder. Wynne sputtered, and Sabrina spat in an effort to rid herself of the nasty taste that permeated her nose and mouth.
“Sabrina?” Wynne said cautiously. “How much do you know of the customs of ancient Egypt?”
“What everyone knows, I suppose.” Surely this was not the time for a history lesson? She gritted her teeth and resolved to be patient with her sister-in-law. The poor creature was probably just as frightened as Belinda. “I know about the pyramids, of course. I know about mummies, something to do with a belief in life after death.”
“Very good.” Wynne hesitated. “Does anything else come to mind?”
Sabrina sighed in frustration. “What are you getting at, Wynne?”
“Well…”
Sabrina’s tolerance grew thin with Wynne’s obvious reluctance to continue. What was wrong with her? Normally you could scarce shut the woman up. “Blast it, Wynne, get on with it! What are you trying to say?”
Wynne drew a deep breath. “If you were a great king, not an ordinary monarch, mind you, but a ruler of great wealth and influence, you had a magnificent tomb built. The pyramids are the most well-known example, but there are, of course, countless other royal tombs.”
“Go on,” Sabrina said. Did Wynne’s ramblings ever have any sort of purpose?
“Entry to the next world was not limited to royalty, however. Every ancient Egyptian believed in a life beyond death.” Wynne grew more animated with every word.
Intrigued in spite of herself, Sabrina nodded encouragement.
“But obviously not all could afford a grand or even lowly tomb. Sometimes mummies were buried in shallow graves in the desert, sometimes they were placed in caves, and sometimes…” Wynne’s recitation faded.
Dread churned in Sabrina’s stomach. “And sometimes where?”
“Huge, mass graves. Catacombs, if you will. Mummies stacked in rows like firewood.” Wynne’s voice faltered. She stared at Sabrina for a long, helpless moment, the words finally blurting from her lips. “Pits, Sabrina, mummy pits. I fear that very well may be where we are. A mummy pit.”
Bile rose in the back of Sabrina’s throat and she struggled against it.
“A mummy pit?” Belinda’s voice trembled an octave above normal. “We are in a giant grave? A tomb? With the dead?” She swayed, and Wynne leaped forward to steady her.
“Belinda, you shall not faint,” Sabrina said sharply. “I will not permit it.”
“But, Mother! Dead bodies?”
“Oh, it’s not as if they’re at all like real bodies; they’ve been dead so terribly long, you know,” Wynne said in a less than successful effort to allay Belinda’s fears. “After all this time there is scarce more left of them than dust.”
“Dust?” Belinda held her grime-covered hands out before her. “Dust?” Her voice quavered and her knees buckled. She sank slowly downward in spite of Wynne’s support.
“Belinda.” Sabrina clutched her daughter’s shoulders and shook her firmly. “We have no time for such nonsense.”
Belinda’s wide, frightened eyes stared into her mother’s, and she swallowed visibly. “But, Mother, I can’t—”
“Of course you can,” Sabrina said in a brisk tone, as if this were nothing more than a discussion over the acceptance of an invitation to one soiree versus another. “You, my darling, are made of far sterner stuff than you have ever imagined. Your father was nothing if not daring and I suspect even courageous had the need ever arisen. And I too have weathered storms with a fair amount of success. Therefore by the simple matter of parentage, you should be well able to deal with something as paltry as long dead and nearly forgotten ancient Egyptians.”
Belinda did not appear at all convinced. “I don’t think—”
“Belinda, listen to her,” Wynne said helpfully. “We are at a far greater risk from those living, breathing desert dwellers who threw us in here than we could ever be—”
“Wynne,” Sabrina said harshly.
“Mother!” Belinda threatened to collapse once again.
Sabrina drew a deep breath. “Belinda, my love, let me make one further point. Should you swoon, neither Wynne nor I could keep you supported upright. Therefore you should sink like a stone onto the ground here.” She paused and considered her next words. They were far stronger than she would have liked, but perhaps shock was the best way to get through to her pampered child. Shock or a firm slap across her lovely face, and Sabrina did not wish to resort to that. Yet. Her voice rang stern. “And you know what lies beneath this earth.”
If the light were better, Sabrina was certain she would have seen her daughter’s face pale. For a few long moments, Belinda said nothing. Even Wynne fell silent. Finally Belinda drew a long, shuddering breath. “Very well, Mother, now what shall we do?” Her voice shook but was at least minimally under control. Sabrina nodded approvingly. Blood would tell after all.
“Yes, indeed, Sabrina,” Wynne said. “What shall we do now?”
“Now we have to get out of this blasted pit.” Sabrina cast a speculative glance around their prison. “Wynne, if they no longer mummify their dead, what exactly do modern Egyptians do with a mummy pit?”
“No doubt they are exhuming their ancestors. They fetch an extremely good price. Mummies are quite popular in Europe as decorative items, and of course many people swear by their restorative powers. Medicinal purposes, you know.”
“People eat them?” Belinda choked out the words.
Wynne nodded casually. “Oh my, yes. Ground up, of course. Ground mummy has been used in certain circles for several hundred years.”
“Enough, Wynne. I did not wish for a dissertation on the economic benefits of selling one’s forefathers or the healthy properties of consuming them.” Wynne’s expression fell, and Sabrina immediately chided herself for her abrupt comment. “I am sorry. Your knowledge of all this would be fascinating under other circumstances. However, at this moment, all I wish to do is determine some means of escape.”
“Forgive me, Sabrina. I fear I tend to get carried away. I am certain to adjust eventually. After all”—Wynne grinned—“this is only my first adventure.”
Sabrina laughed in spite of herself. “Well, I have had a fair amount of adventures myself, and I’m not sure if one ever adjusts completely.” She shook her head. “However, I have yet to get myself in as difficult a spot as this.”
She glanced around thoughtfully. Approximately twice her height, the pit walls loomed over her, not qui
te straight up but too steeply angled for climbing. In the growing light, the prison did not appear nearly as large as she’d first thought. Roughly rectangular in shape, it stretched possibly some twenty by thirty feet. “How do you suppose they get in here to dig the mummies out?”
“Ladders, I would imagine,” Wynne said, “or ropes.”
Sabrina placed her hand against the earthen wall. “What a shame they did not leave one here.” She scraped experimentally with her fingernail. Dirt came away without much difficulty, yet the wall remained fairly firm. “If we had something to dig with…”
Wynne’s tone was speculative. “Something, say, a knife?”
Sabrina nodded. “A knife would do quite nicely. Unfortunately, since I did not foresee this complication when I left my tent tonight, I failed to bring any type of weapon.”
“The captain told me you always carried a knife in your boot,” Wynne said, admiration in her voice.
Belinda gasped. “A knife? Oh, Mother, surely not?”
Sabrina disregarded her daughter’s shock and smiled fondly in remembrance. “I did once, a very long time ago. However, I fear it’s a habit I have since lost. I am not as prepared as I was in the past.” She laughed shortly. “I am no longer accustomed to adventures of any type.”
“I should think not,” Belinda said indignantly.
Wynne rose to her sister-in-law’s defense. “I think forethought is an admirable trait. One to be emulated.” She hesitated. “The captain suggested on this journey it would not be amiss if I followed your example.”
“My example?” Sabrina said, puzzled. Her eyes widened with sudden understanding. “Good Lord, Wynne, are you saying you have a knife?”
Wynne nodded and reached down to the oversized boots she had managed to purchase from a sailor on Matt’s ship. “I keep it here, and quite uncomfortable it is too.” She slipped her hand into the top of the footwear, pulled out a small but serviceable dagger, and brandished it triumphantly. “Although I must say, just the knowledge of its presence provides me with a certain measure of excitement.”
“This is excellent.” Sabrina plucked the weapon from Wynne’s outstretched hand. “These walls are not perfectly straight. They have a slight angle to them. If we can dig out small footholds, we might be able to climb our way out of here.”
Wynne nodded. “Excellent, Sabrina. Really quite good.”
“Mother, that’s simply impossible.” Belinda folded her arms over her chest in a obstinate manner. “There is no conceivable way I can climb out of this hole. Why, I’m not even dressed.”
Only now did Sabrina note her daughter still wore her night rail. Wynne was as fully dressed as Sabrina herself. Strange, Sabrina thought surely Wynne had been asleep when she left the tent. Her apparel made no sense unless… It was past time to fully determine the extent of Wynne’s involvement with Matt. But given their awkward circumstances, it would have to wait.
She waved a dismissive hand at her daughter. “We will deal with your lack of suitable clothing when and if we escape from here.”
Sabrina turned toward the wall and set to work. She outlined a small foothold with the knife and stabbed at the dirt, loosening the soil enough for Wynne to attempt to hollow it out with her fingers. Within minutes the women were hard at work. Sabrina suspected their effort was futile. It would take hours to dig enough holds to enable them to climb to the top. However, as she had no other ideas, the difficult job provided a distraction from their predicament and served to keep her mind off what might happen to them all if they failed to escape.
Wynne and Sabrina worked side by side. Belinda stood a short distance away, assigned to keep an eye on the rim of the pit in the event their captors returned unexpectedly. She watched warily for any desert creature that might decide to pay them a visit, her anxious gaze darting from rim to walls and back again.
“Wynne,” Sabrina said casually. “Why are you dressed? I thought you were asleep?”
“I might ask you the same thing.”
“I went to walk with Nicholas.” Sabrina raised a brow in emphasis. “My husband.”
“I too went for a walk,” Wynne said defensively, and attacked the foothold she worked on with renewed enthusiasm.
“Really?” Sabrina considered her answer. “Alone?”
“I…” Wynne averted her eyes and sighed. “No, I was not alone.”
Sabrina’s tone was gentle. “Were you with Matt?” The younger woman nodded. “I thought as much. Wynne, have you given any consideration to the future? To what happens when this journey is ended?”
Wynne’s gaze met hers. “I have given it a great deal of thought. When this adventure is over, I shall embark on another. I plan to fill my life with exploits and quests and—”
“And what about Matt?”
Wynne turned and concentrated her efforts on a particularly stubborn section of soil. “The captain will continue much as he always has, I suspect. With his ships and his voyages and his life.”
“Does that not bother you?” Sabrina said in amazement.
“No… yes… I don’t know.” Wynne’s eyes blazed with defiance. “What, perchance, am I supposed to do, Sabrina? I finally have the opportunity to experience all I have ever dreamed of. At last I am able to travel and explore and see the world for myself. I feel as if I have spent my entire life in some type of eminently respectable but deadly tedious prison.
“I suspect the captain is the kind of man who should find being tied to just one woman the worst kind of incarceration. Now that I have found my own freedom, I cannot, I shall not impose such a prison on him.” She turned back to the wall and scraped at the earth in a fierce gesture of frustration.
“He might well wish for such a prison.” Sabrina’s words were soft. “He loves you.”
Wynne stilled, frozen in mid-motion. “What makes you think so?”
“He told me.”
Wynne released a pent-up breath. “I daresay I did not expect that.”
Surprised, Sabrina stared. “Why ever not?”
“All that I have read of men such as the captain indicates love is not an emotion they succumb to easily. Courage, fire, a variety of other passions, yes, but love…” Her gaze dropped, her voice barely more than a whisper, as if she talked as much to herself as Sabrina. “No, I never expected that.”
Sabrina studied her sister-in-law for a moment. “Do you love him?”
Wynne’s startled gaze flew to hers. “Do I—yes, of course, without a doubt.”
Sabrina smiled. “Very well then, the two of you shall marry and—”
“Oh no.” Wynne shook her head firmly. “Marriage is out of the question.”
“Why?” Sabrina said, shocked by the refusal of this spinster to even consider wedding the man she admitted she loved.
Wynne’s tone rang with impatience. “Surely you realize marriage would never satisfy the captain. He is a man used to adventure and intrigue, even in his personal dealings. Although bound by the vows of matrimony, he would no doubt eventually turn to other women.” Wynne’s voice softened; she clasped her fingers together and stared at her hands. “And that I could not bear.” She hesitated for a long second. Finally her gaze met Sabrina’s. “How does one bear it?”
The question pierced Sabrina’s heart with an almost physical pain, and her breath caught in her throat. How indeed did one bear such a thing? Wasn’t that exactly what she had to look forward to from Nicholas? Oh, certainly he was enamored with her now; only a fool would fail to see that. But what of the future? What happened when they returned to England? When excitement and adventure were far behind them?
Would he expect her to be once more the serene Lady Stanford he originally selected for a wife? Could she behave that way again? Her life before now was as much a prison as Wynne’s, and just like the younger woman, Sabrina too suspected she could not return to it. These weeks of reckless freedom were too potent not to have erased years of proper behavior.
And what of Nicholas’s
behavior? The man was a rake; it was his very nature. She did not expect him to change when they wed, but the marriage of convenience she had agreed to had not worked out quite as she’d foreseen. Love had played no part in her initial plans, especially not this burning passion that ignited whenever the man so much as directed a smoldering glance her way. How long would it be before he turned to others? Before he began anew the liaisons and affairs he was notorious for?
She thrust the picture of an altogether painful future aside and returned to her work, viciously assaulting the earthen wall as if it were to blame for her fears. Her words were blunt. “Not everyone behaves as characters in a book, Wynne. Perhaps you should give Matt a chance.”
Wynne’s response was slow and thoughtful. “Perhaps.” The sound of the knife scraping at the soil and fingers scratching at the earth filled the silence between them. “And what of you, Sabrina? Will you give Nicholas the same chance?”
“I am married to your brother.” The bitter note in her voice surprised her. “I have little choice. I knew the type of man he was when we wed. I shall have to learn to deal with the consequences.”
“I fear I do not know my brother well. But I am aware of his reputation. He is well known for his amorous exploits. Still, he is a man of honor. Are you so certain he will betray you?”
Sabrina’s answer came short and quick and hard. “Yes.” Her gaze met Wynne’s, and she shrugged. “It’s what I expect. As I said, I shall deal with it; however, I am not completely certain I shall live with it.”
“Surely you would not consider divorce?” Wynne said, shock in her voice.
“Of course not. But I shall have my gold and therefore no need to depend on your brother financially. I cannot imagine he will not be amenable to living apart, should it come to that. But no, Wynne, I would never divorce him.” Sabrina’s pride prevented her from saying anything else. She could not tell Wynne that she fervently prayed Nicholas would discover love with her. She could not explain that as long as they were legally bound together, there was hope. And she could not put into words how her very soul would shatter if indeed her fears about her husband proved true.
The Perfect Wife Page 23
