"No thank you, Perry. We travel light, there isn't much in them," said Frances.
"Very well," he said, "I hope you do enjoy your trip with Thoth Tours. As always, if there is anything I can do to help, please let me know."
"That's very kind," said Florence.
Fowler bowed himself towards the door as Frances and Florence followed after him. They lined up behind Warrant and Beckles as Darius was putting Gabberdeen's suitcase away. Gabberdeen was climbing into the bus behind Montague and Bendled.
Darius took Beckles' suitcase and as he did, the lid slipped open and he lost control of it and it slipped to the ground. Part of its contents spilled out. Amongst clothes, Frances saw a few items of jewelry. They looked expensive and old. There was also a gold bowl and a gold statue that looked like an ankh, but Frances couldn't be sure.
Beckles hurriedly righted her suitcase and quickly put the contents back in. She looked mortified. She turned around, and her face was redder than it usually was.
"Oh dear," she said, "I guess that's what you get when you buy cheap. We've already done a bit of shopping as you can tell."
Frances smiled at her kindly for her embarrassment. Warrant came up and helped her stuff her clothes and other items back into the bag.
"I thought you told me you had secured it," she said, in frustrated whispers.
"I had," he replied quietly.
"Now everyone knows," she says.
"They don't. They hardly saw anything."
Albert spent extra time ensuring that the latch was secure this time. Darius went to take the suitcase from him when Albert had put it on its base.
"No thank you. I think I'll take care of that myself," said Albert.
He put the suitcase into the back of the bus and then he did the same with his own. The two of them scurried into the bus, still quite embarrassed by the whole scene.
Darius tentatively went to take Frances' and Florence's suitcases and they allowed him to. They walked up the stairs and onto the bus. It was a luxurious bus, with thick padded seats with ample room. The two of them sat together on the left hand side of the bus which gave them a great view out the front window.
Darius climbed back into the bus and a few moments later Perry Fowler climbed up too. It was about eight fifteen. He looked around and counted the heads on the bus.
"We are missing someone, but alas we were scheduled to depart at eight and we're already behind schedule."
Fowler looked around one last time, and as he did so, he saw a young man crash through the exit doors of the hotel. He was somewhat disheveled. You could tell he had rushed to get changed. His shirt was untucked and his hair was a mess. He looked to be in his early twenties, of average height with a large scar down his left cheek. He was carrying a rucksack on his right shoulder that bounced with every step he took.
"Ah ha, looks like our straggler has arrived," said Fowler getting back off the bus. Darius started to get up and follow him out. "I've got it," said Fowler, and Darius sat back down.
Outside, Frances watched Fowler and the young man talk for a moment. The young chap showed his ticket and they both walked around to the back of the bus. When they returned, the young man didn't have his rucksack anymore. He climbed into the bus and as he walked past Frances she noticed how blue his eyes were in his round face. He had a pleasant boyish face, despite the scar, and he grinned nervously as he walked to his seat somewhere in the back. Fowler climbed in after him and stood in the middle of the aisle at the front.
"Now we have everyone," he said. "Your latest companion on this journey is Mr. Simon Gragg."
Everyone gave Simon a round of applause. Darius started up the bus and they slowly drove out of the hotel's driveway, heading towards Cairo.
"Just a couple of items to be aware of as we head towards Cairo. We are a small group on a small bus, so I ask that you refrain from smoking. We have some who are in poor health and some with asthma. Having said that, we will be stopping every hour or so to stretch our legs, have a cigarette or use the toilets. As we drive towards Cairo, I'll be drawing your attention to some sights that you might find interesting. But for the next several minutes, please sit back and enjoy the ride. I'll be coming round with some brochures if you don't already have any."
Six
Including the three stops for stretching the legs and smoking, the bus that Lady Marmalade and the others were on, arrived at the outskirts of Giza at just before noon. The timing was impeccable.
Darius drove the bus up a dusty road that led towards the pyramids. The Great Pyramid of Giza loomed large in front of them like at giant brown prism. The ambience in the bus was electric, the giant pyramid was no more than two hundred feet from them.
Darius took a left hand turn and traveled for a few hundred more feet until he came to a stop. He stopped under a canopy that had been erected as a carport for the bus. At least that's what it looked like.
"Ladies and gentleman," said Fowler, "behold the pyramids of Egypt. We'll be enjoying a light repast for the next hour, after which we'll be able to explore the pyramids and other ancient sights that are here at Giza. During lunch I'll be offering some information about what you can expect here as well as some of the options for your exploration later this afternoon after lunch. Please make your way to the outdoor canopy to my left and take a seat wherever you like."
Fowler walked off the bus as Darius opened up the door. Frances and Florence were the first to walk off, followed quickly by Captain Wainscott and Lady Pompress, and then the others.
"How marvelous, simply marvelous," said Florence as they exited past a smiling Fowler. "I suppose to you it's old hat?"
Fowler kept his smile on his tanned face.
"Not at all, quite the contrary. With each new guest I bring out here, I see it anew through their eyes."
Florence smiled as she and Frances walked towards the canopy underneath which stood the chairs and tables. Florence looked off to her right and stared at the brown pyramids under a Persian blue sky.
"I want to start taking some pictures already," she said to Frances, smiling and feeling almost giddy as if it were the first day of school. Florence headed back to the bus and waited until everyone had disembarked when Darius came round and opened up the rear of the bus. He took her suitcase out and she opened it and took out her camera. Then she closed up her luggage and Darius put it back in the bus. She walked back to Frances.
"It is a most majestic and awe inspiring sight. I'm so glad we're here," said Frances.
Florence nodded and as they made their way to the tables and chairs she kept looking to her right at the pyramids. Frances and Florence took a seat at the farthermost table. There were four tables all in a row to fit four people each. The white canopy was open to all four sides and the view, as they sat facing the pyramids, was taken up mostly by the Great Pyramid of Giza, though they could see a sliver of the Pyramid of Khafre and to the left of it, a small sliver of the Pyramid of Menkaure.
The chairs that Frances and Florence sat on were comfortable. They were wooden chairs painted white with cushions tied to the seat and backrest. They also had wooden armrests. The tables were covered with white tablecloths and this all stood upon a wonderfully intricate Persian rug. There was very little wind in the area, and the immediate vicinity was not very sandy in any event, but rather hard dirt.
Frances and Florence sat next to each other facing southwest. That left two chairs opposite them which wouldn't offer a view of the pyramids as they faced northeast. These seats were the last to fill up. Albert Warrant and Abigail Beckles took them. Everyone introduced themselves to each other as they sat down.
"What brings you to Egypt?" asked Frances.
Albert looked over at Abigail. She didn't say anything so he spoke first.
"We've always been interested in Egypt, ever since we were young children, weren't we, Abby?"
He looked over at her and smiled. She glanced at him before looking at Frances and Florence.
"
Oh yes, very much so," she said.
Abigail was dressed in a pale pink dress with short sleeves. She had brought a light yellow umbrella which she hooked to the back of her chair. Albert was in tan knee length shorts and on his feet he had walking shoes. Most of the ladies wore flat tennis shoes, including Frances and Florence. Abigail and Albert seemed quite charming and happy.
"Are the two of you married?" asked Florence, not quite getting a bead on their relationship.
Albert laughed good naturally.
"Oh, good Lord no," he said. "We're actually siblings."
"I see," said Florence. "Now that you mention it, I can actually see the resemblance."
"Yes, almost everyone asks if we're related," said Abigail.
"Well, I never wish to assume."
"That's kind of you," said Albert. "After all, what if we were married and everyone assumed we're related. That might seem a little offensive, wouldn't it?"
"Perhaps," said Florence. "I suppose it depends on tone of the messenger."
"Yes, I suppose," said Albert, looking down.
Everyone had by now seated themselves at a table of their choosing. Lady Pompress, Captain Timothy Wainscott, Orpha Bendled and her granddaughter Mahulda Montague were all seated at the table to Frances' right. Lady Pompress who sat facing the pyramids on the far right of that table had the four single men at the next table on her right. The fourth table was unoccupied.
Orpha, appearing to Frances to be a bit of a busybody inquired with Fowler if Thoth Tours usually got more tourists considering their was an empty table. Perry Fowler said they usually did. In fact they usually had at least twice the number during the peak season. Though on this particular occasion four people had cancelled at the last minute.
"Oh my," said Orpha. "How rude. Do you know why?"
Fowler indulged her with a smile.
"Madam," said Fowler, "Thoth Tours does not make it a practice to pry into our customers' private lives. We also make it very easy to cancel, which is why we are one of the favored tour providers in the area."
That seemed to put an end to Orpha's inquiry for the time being. Each table had their own waiter. All the waiters were dressed smartly in white trousers and white button down shirts that were long sleeved. A warm but ever so slight breeze nuzzled around Frances' ankles as their waiter brought around a small plate of cold tabouli. The cool dish was a welcome start to the meal. Although it wasn't hot, it was getting quite warm in the middle of the day out there on the plains of Giza in front of the magnificent pyramids.
The waiter was a young man, perhaps as young as early twenties. He had blindingly white teeth and pitch black hair that was neatly combed to one side. He was clean shaven, with high cheekbones and a square jaw. His brown eyes were large and bright. He was handsome, something that Abigail immediately noticed. She smiled at him the whole time he was at their table serving everyone their appetizers. It was so obvious that at one point Albert had to nudge her with his elbow to bring her back to some semblance of social decency. Abigail looked over at Frances.
"I've never had the privilege of dining with a real Lady," she said, and she smiled broadly, this time only for Frances. She wasn't a young woman. Middle aged, but she had a naiveté about the world that Frances found charming, though she wasn't particularly pleased about her fawning over her title.
"Think nothing of it," said Frances between forkfuls of tabouli.
"I've always been intrigued by the peerage," said Abigail, getting more animated. "I have a hard time understanding it all."
Frances looked up at her and smiled kindly.
"Don't worry about it, it's quite the puzzle that many of us can sometimes get confused over."
"As I understand it," continued Abigail, "there are a variety of Ladies and Lords are there not?"
Albert looked at his sister sternly.
"I don't think Lady Marmalade wants to talk about it."
Embarrassedly, Abigail put her head down and played with her tabouli on the plate. Albert had clearly sucked the winds right out of her sails.
"It's all right, dear," said Frances, patting Abigail's left hand which was curled around her plate of tabouli. "I'll try and give you a brief rundown if you'd like."
"Oh, would you?" asked Abigail, "that would be ever so kind."
She looked up at Frances with a big smile and effervescent optimism popped like champagne bubbles as she spoke. Frances took another bite of tabouli and washed it down with a sip from her water.
"We'll stick to peerage which is somewhat easier to understand than royalty, and you don't want me talking about royalty because it will take too long and I don't seem to understand the nuances of it myself. I think that's because it can and has been made up off the cuff throughout the ages as the Queen or King had seen fit."
Abigail and Albert laughed. Florence smiled too. She had heard this explained to her before, and she found Frances' explanation easy to understand and simple. Though she hadn't found need to use the correct address in a long time. Frances had insisted upon it. She and Eric were not ones for much pomp and circumstance, somewhat to the chagrin of their peers.
"The peerage is made up of ranks, and that is why you're quite correct that you'll find a variety of Ladies and Lords with different ranks. In order of ranking, the peerage is made up of Dukes and their wives Duchesses, then next in rank are Marquesses and Marchionesses, then Earls and Countesses, then Viscounts and Viscountesses, and lastly Barons and Baronesses. Does that make sense so far?"
Abigail nodded excitedly, her face creased in the biggest smile she could muster.
"Would it be imprudent of me to ask where in the peerage you sit?"
"Abby!" exclaimed Albert, "that's improper."
Abigail blushed.
"Sorry, I'm just very interested that's all."
"Not to worry dear, it would be considered imprudent but I don't mind telling. But first we need to fill in the backgrounds."
Abigail nodded.
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I hope you'll forgive me, like I said, I've never had the pleasure of dining with a real Lady."
"It's all right, dear. The wives of all peers except for the wives of Dukes are called Lady."
"I see, what are the wives of Dukes called?" asked Abigail.
"You'd address her as Your Grace the first time and then after that as Madam. I would address her as Duchess Teakettle, if that was her husband’s title and then as Madam after that."
Abigail chuckled.
"There isn't really a Duchess Teakettle, is there?"
Frances smiled at her.
"I hope not, that would be most unfortunate."
Abigail shook her head.
"So knowing that, this brings us to your question. If I am a Lady, then what is my formal title? Do you have any idea?"
Abigail wanted to impress Lady Marmalade so she blurted out, "Marchioness?"
Frances smiled at her.
"Strictly speaking you're right, but I don't go by that title or I'd be known as Lady Sandown."
"I'm confused," said Abigail with a furrowed brow. "If you are a Marchioness, then why don't you go by that title?"
"The short answer is because my husband didn't want to. You see, my husband, Eric, wasn't particularly impressed or flattered by the social class system that is, thankfully, disappearing in England today, so he chose to use his lowest title. You see my dear," said Frances, "if you're a Marquess for example, then you will usually have earned titles from all the lower ranks."
"I see," said Abigail, but she was still clearly confused.
"I'll use myself as an example. My husband is The Most Honorable, The Marquess of Sandown. He is also The Right Honorable, The Earl of Wollinghamshire. Moving down the ranks he is also The Right Honorable, The Viscount Volmaren, and lastly he is also The Right Honorable, Lord Marmalade. That is his barony title."
"Interesting, so your husband chose to use his lowest title and so you had to follow?"
&nb
sp; "Quite correct, however, I agree with my late husband's philosophy on this. Furthermore, I insist that you call me Frances."
"I'll try," said Abigail. "This is so thrilling."
"I have a question," said Florence.
Frances looked over at her and nodded.
"If that is the case, then why is your son Declan addressed as Lord Declan whenever I've been over to visit?"
"You mean by Alfred and Ginny?"
Florence nodded.
"Well, because we're informal, and that's what we prefer."
Frances turned to Abigail and Albert.
"My dear friend brings up an interesting point though, and something that I should clarify. You see, my son, at least when my husband was around could only use the next highest title which my husband was not using. So if Eric was using his barony title, then Declan, who is my only son, and also my eldest child, would be addressed as Mr. Branham."
"Why Mr. Branham and not Mr. Marmalade?" asked Abigail.
"Well, this is where it gets a bit complicated. Most times, the titles of Barons and Viscounts are related to their surnames, all titles above Viscounts, that is to say for Earls, Marquesses and Dukes the titles are not related to their surnames. In our particular case, all our titles are unrelated to my husband's surname which is Branham."
"So your married name then would be Frances Branham?" asked Abigail.
Frances nodded.
"Yes, but it is never used. When I sign my name it is always Frances Sandown."
Abigail cocked her neck at an odd angle, and knitted her eyebrows together.
"Forgive me, my Lady, um, Frances," said Abigail, "but why not Frances Marmalade?"
"I know, I am confusing things a bit, aren't I It's only confusing because unlike most peers, we've decided to use our lowest title, at least informally. However, in formal occasions we adhere to proper etiquette. So when we're amongst our peers, I'm known as Lady Sandown, or when formally introduced as The Most Honorable, The Dowager Marchioness of Sandown."
"Why the addition of Dowager? I'm afraid I'm not familiar with that?"
"That's added when my husband died."
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