Pride and Pyramids

by Amanda Grange

  “You look beautiful,” he said, kissing her on the neck.

  She could not resist turning to kiss him and would have continued to do so all evening if she had not heard the Potheroes’ carriage rolling up outside the house. Reluctantly, she pulled away from him and, equally reluctantly, Darcy let her go.

  He gave her his arm and they left the room, descending the long and splendid staircase and arriving on the first floor landing in time to greet their guests.

  They all went through to the drawing room, which, in common with other town houses, was located on the first floor. Edward was waiting for them, suitably attired.

  He is very handsome, thought Elizabeth as she saw him in all his glory. I wonder if he and Sophie…

  But then told herself that matchmaking was seldom successful and decided that she had quite enough to think about without such complications.

  They were soon all talking happily together. The conversation was at first general, but as they went through into the dining room, dinner having been announced, it turned to the subject on everyone’s mind.

  “I am longing to know more about your trip,” said Elizabeth to Lady Potheroe, as the soup was served. “Is the heat immense?”

  “Well, my dear, it is unbearable at midday, although the evenings are delightful. You must be sure to take clothes of the lightest materials. Linen and muslin are best. And you must make sure to be well covered from the sun. We met a very agreeable couple while we were out there—do you remember the Wakeleys, Oliver dear?—they told us that one of their maids foolishly left off her shawl during a shopping trip to the market and was boiled as red as a lobster. The wretched girl was in pain for days and insisted on returning home as soon as ever she could move. But of course, if you take care, there is no need—”

  Lady Potheroe chatted on at some length about the different requirements for adults and children and Elizabeth listened diligently throughout.

  Although she had never met the older lady before tonight, Elizabeth could not help but be charmed by her warm manner and matter-of-fact attitude to the perils of travelling in foreign lands. Lady Potheroe had already given Elizabeth more information on medicines to take and clothes to pack than any book could have done. Moreover, she had offered the name of her own seamstress for Elizabeth to consult.

  By the time the dessert was brought in, Elizabeth felt much more confident about leading her children off on this marvellous, yet potentially hazardous adventure.

  “Of course when you arrive at the Valley of the Kings, you will be amazed at how spectacular the pyramids are,” Lord Potheroe said, as he took a spoonful of syllabub. “I couldn’t take my eyes off them for the first three days, could I, m’dear?”

  “It was the same for all of us, Oliver. The structures are so fantastic, one cannot help but feel dwarfed by them.”

  “It seems you were quite taken with Egypt, Lady Potheroe,” said Darcy, smiling at his guest.

  “It is impossible not to be,” Lady Potheroe replied. “Indeed, just talking about it this evening with you young people makes me wish I was returning with you. But I cannot,” she continued with a smile at Edward, who seemed to be about to invite her in his zeal to convert as many people as possible to his cause. “Our youngest daughter is finally getting married in three months time, and I barely have enough time to choose gowns with her as it is.”

  “Then our loss is England’s gain,” said Edward gallantly.

  “However,” Lord Potheroe continued, “do not let Amelia’s enthusiasms blind you to the inconveniences of Egypt, and there are many. You should be aware of the dangers of drinking the water and the diseases that seem to be rife among the poor, even once the plague season has passed. And the animals can be deadly as well. Never be tempted to swim in the rivers, Darcy, no matter how hot it gets. The Nile crocodiles are the most fearsome creatures I have ever seen. We witnessed a male drowning a—”

  “Oliver, this is hardly appropriate dinner conversation,” Lady Potheroe interrupted gently.

  Her husband looked awkward.

  “You are right as usual, my dear,” he said.

  Elizabeth changed the direction of the conversation by saying, “Have you visited the British Museum recently? Edward had business with Sir Matthew, and we saw the beginnings of his exhibition room. He longs to fill it with treasures one day, but at the moment it is practically empty, apart from a few pots and a frieze of an Egyptian woman. She looked remarkably like the little doll Edward gave to Margaret—or, should I say, the doll which Margaret appropriated!”

  Edward finished the last of his dessert and sat back on his chair. “Ah, you mean Aahotep.”

  “It is a peculiar little trinket,” Darcy said.

  “Egypt is full of such things, Darcy,” Lord Potheroe said rather dismissively, but his wife held up a finger.

  “Do tell us more, Mr Fitzwilliam. I adore Egyptian folktales.”

  Her husband smiled indulgently. “Amelia speaks the truth. Whenever we ventured into the souks and she spotted a vase or a tapestry or a rug with even a hint of a story—the gorier the better, I might add—I knew I would not be able to wrest her away until the whole ghastly tale had been told and my wallet would be lighter of a good few pounds.”

  The Darcys laughed as Edward pushed his plate aside.

  “It is not a long story,” he said, “although it is rather intriguing. I must confess a similar love of Egyptian stories as Lady Potheroe, and so I made it my business to discover what I could about Aahotep.”

  “Bravo, Mr Fitzwilliam,” said Lady Potheroe. “We romantics must stick together. Please tell us the story.”

  “Yes, do, Edward,” Elizabeth agreed eagerly. “Then I promise Lady Potheroe and I will leave you gentlemen to your port.”

  Edward bowed from his chair. “Very well then—although I warn you, I have no means of knowing how authentic this tale is…”

  By now even Lord Potheroe and Darcy were intrigued and, encouraged by their enthusiasm, Edward began.

  “Aahotep was reputed to have lived in the Old Kingdom Era—that is, during the period between 2686 and 2181 BC. She was, according to my source, a somewhat unpleasant creature, although perhaps we should not blame her too much for her wayward life. She was born the fifth daughter of a poor fisherman on the Nile and sold into slavery quite young when her parents decided they could not afford any more girls. She began her career quite humbly as a slave in the household of a grand vizier but soon rose to become a servant of some importance.”

  “Oh, let me guess,” said Lady Potheroe smiling. “She was exceptionally beautiful.”

  “You have been teasing me, Lady Potheroe; you have heard this story before.”

  “Mr Fitzwilliam, the woman in question is always exceptionally beautiful; it is a staple of the best stories from every civilisation. Is that not so, Oliver?”

  Lord Potheroe laughed. “You would know, my dear.”

  “Of course,” agreed Elizabeth. “What is the good of a story if the woman is not beautiful and the hero not brave? Do go on, Edward.”

  “Well this beautiful woman was evil as well—”

  “Not essentially evil, Edward,” said Darcy, entering into the spirit of things, “just forced to become so as a result of circumstances beyond her control.”

  “Yes, indeed,” said Lady Potheroe. “Was there a handsome young man with whom she fell in love and an evil older man who cast covetous eyes upon her?”

  “Enough,” cried Edward, laughing good-naturedly. “I can see my audience is far crueler than Aahotep could ever be.”

  “Dear Edward, we should not tease, and I do want to know the story before Mrs Darcy and I retire to discuss fabrics. Come, finish your tale.”

  The merriment of the company thus calmed, Edward continued.

  “Very well; yes, Aahotep wa
s very beautiful and, yes, she did eventually attract the eyes of a richer, older man who desired her enough to marry her and elevate her in society. She was clever as well as beautiful and helped her husband augment his riches, but he was less than just in dividing his newfound wealth with her, and when he died, she was able to govern her new business with greater freedom. It was whispered by some that her husband did not die of natural causes but was rather helped along the road by his less than loving wife, although he was not himself a popular man and most people were prepared to accept this as nothing more than jealousy. And then, she married again, a far richer husband, and enhanced his wealth as well, and after a few short years this husband too died. But life was precarious in those days. And then Aahotep married a third time, and this husband had a handsome young son named Ammon, of whom she quickly became enamoured.”

  Edward paused, and Darcy leaned toward Lord Potheroe.

  “I fancy I can see where this is headed,” he said with a smile.

  “When her third husband died, Aahotep decided that the handsome young man would be husband number four,” said Edward. “Except that he had plans of his own with a younger, equally beautiful girl. And when Aahotep was spurned by the young man and forced to watch his wedding celebrations, she went mad and poisoned their wine at the feast and laughed with insane glee as the whole wedding party died horrible deaths. Aahotep was the only survivor of the feast, but despite the pharaoh sending his most experienced men to apprehend her, she disappeared along the bank of the Nile and was never seen again. Of course, she was supposed to have been eaten by the crocodiles, although rumours persist to this day that one can see a mad woman fleeing the riverbanks when the moon is full. The two lovers were buried together secretly so that Aahotep cannot disturb them in death as she did in life. Only if she truly repents will she ever find them and be allowed to rest herself. And it is said,” he ended, intoning dramatically, “that if their tomb is ever disturbed by anyone else, the guilty party, alive or dead, shall be struck down by a disease that no doctor can cure.”

  “Capital, dear fellow; well done,” Lord Potheroe applauded. “Quite one of the best I have heard in a long time.”

  “And now we will leave you, gentlemen,” Elizabeth said, as the servants entered to remove the dessert dishes.

  The two ladies stood up and retired to the drawing room, where they discussed the clothes and other necessary items the Darcys would need in Egypt and on their journey.

  ***

  Life was far less exciting for Elizabeth’s parents than it was for Elizabeth as they passed their days in the village of Longbourn. There were no visits to museums and no plans for far-flung journeys. Instead, Mr and Mrs Bennet, having disposed of all their daughters in marriage, spent their days in peace and quiet at Longbourn House. This suited Mr Bennet, who had the calm his nature craved, but it suited Mrs Bennet less well. When she had had five daughters to think about, she had been constantly complaining but nevertheless happy. Now she was simply constantly complaining.

  “I think I will walk into Meryton this morning,” she said, as she presided over the breakfast table. She looked around at the empty seats and felt a sense of nostalgia for the days when every chair had been full. “I really ought to pay a visit to Mary.”

  Mary, after spending many years at home, had finally married her uncle’s clerk and now lived in simple comfort in Meryton. Although she was the least favourite of her mother’s daughters, she had the advantage of being the nearest, as the others had all settled many miles away.

  “A good idea,” said Mr Bennet, who never discouraged his wife from visiting friends or, indeed, from doing anything which would take her out of the house. “You must not let her feel neglected.”

  “And then I think I will write to Lydia and invite her to stay. We have not seen her for such a long time, and she is bound to be missing us. Ah! My dear Lydia. How happy she will be to see us again, and how happy we will be to see her and her handsome Wickham.”

  “We must not trespass upon their time,” said Mr Bennet, taking a bite of ham.

  “It will be no trespass, I am sure,” said Mrs Bennet, as the mail was brought in on a silver salver.

  She took the letters and glanced idly at the envelopes, then became more animated.

  “A letter from Lizzy!” she said.

  This made Mr Bennet look up, for Elizabeth was his favourite daughter.

  Mrs Bennet started to read with a complacency reserved for the daughter who had married ten thousand a year and, incidentally, Mr Darcy. But as she read on, she exclaimed in amazement, “Why, Mr Bennet, whatever do you think?”

  “I do not know, my dear,” he said with a long-suffering air, “but I am sure you are about to tell me.”

  “Lizzy and Darcy are to visit Egypt. Well! What do you think of that?”

  Mr Bennet was startled out of his usual imperturbability.

  “Egypt?” he asked, and then he quickly settled back into his usual placidity. “Then I must ask them to bring me back some souvenir. Perhaps a map of the Nile or a crocodile tooth or—”

  “Why, Mr Bennet, there is no need to ask them to bring back some souvenir. It would be far better for us to go to Egypt with them and buy some souvenirs ourselves. I am sure Lizzy and Darcy would be delighted to have us, and a few months in Egypt would set me up nicely.”

  Mr Bennet, however, was no more accommodating than he had been fifteen years before, when Mrs Bennet had desired to go to Brighton. He had refused to countenance a journey then, and he refused now. Having finished his ham and eggs, he remarked that it was impossible and then took refuge behind the latest broadsheet.

  Undaunted, Mrs Bennet continued.

  “Just think, Mr Bennet! The camels and pyramids, to say nothing of the company—”

  “Then, indeed, let us say nothing of it,” Mr Bennet remarked.

  But Mrs Bennet was constitutionally unable to say nothing, and in the end her husband was forced to retire to the peace of his library.

  Thus deprived of an audience, Mrs Bennet rang for Hill, who provided her with a more appreciative ear, and then carried out her earlier resolves: she must visit Mary at once, and then she must invite Lydia to stay.

  ***

  “Remind me again why am I here with you, my love?” Wickham enquired charmingly as, several days later, he found himself on the steps of Longbourn House.

  Lydia fiddled with the slightly grubby ribbon on her bonnet as they waited for the door of her parents’ home to open.

  “La! My dear Wickham, you know as well as I do,” she replied, not even bothering to look at him. “We do not have enough money to live on, and we cannot pay the rent on the rooms we took in the hotel. Mama’s letter came just in time to save us from another midnight exit. But now our problems are solved, at least for a week or two—longer, if you behave yourself. Be charming to Mama and polite to Papa, and they may let us stay a month.”

  “I will do my best.”

  He kissed her blithely on the neck, careless of the servant who might appear at any second to allow them admission to the house. Lydia could not help but smile, for Wickham was still very handsome, whether he wore his blue or his red coat, and she could never resist his embraces, however lightly given.

  “La! Here is Hill,” she declared, as the Bennets’ long-serving, and long-suffering, servant opened the door. “Hill, is it not the greatest fun? What a lark to find myself at home again!”

  Mrs Bennet hurried into the hall to greet her.

  “Lydia! My Lydia! Why, how well you look. And Wickham, how handsome!”

  Wickham bowed charmingly and kissed her hand.

  “But come in! Come in!”

  She ushered them into the drawing room, from which Mr Bennet had made a hasty retreat, and tea was immediately served.

  There was plenty of news to relat
e, but Mrs Bennet could wait for very little of it and launched almost immediately into a story of how she was ill used, how no one considered her nerves, and how Elizabeth and Darcy were to go to Egypt!

  “Egypt!” Lydia’s somewhat weary eyes lit up. “La! Mama, how exciting. I would love to go.”

  She had a momentary vision of a palm-fringed watering hole, complete with picturesque camels and a host of young and gay people; and, to complete the view, she saw herself seated beneath a canopy, flirting with at least six sheikhs at once. For although she had been married for fourteen years, Lydia was barely thirty.

  “My dear, do not mention such a thing, even in jest,” said her mother. “It plays havoc with my nerves, for your papa has sworn I shall not go. I cannot see why not, for even Sophie Lucas has been invited.”

  “Sophie?” asked Lydia, startled and annoyed.

  “Elizabeth proposes to take her.”

  “I do not see why she should take Sophie Lucas,” said Lydia.

  “Ah, my dear,” said Mrs Bennet with a sigh, “neither do I, but Sophie has persuaded her to it, I have no doubt. The Lucases have always been artful. I remember when Charlotte Lucas stole Mr Collins away from beneath my nose, when everyone knew he was promised to Lizzy.”

  Lydia took no notice of this comment but replied, “Lizzy ought to have taken me,” for she was feeling very much as Kitty had felt when Lydia had gone to Brighton and she had been left behind.

  “I daresay she ought, but Lizzy has always been headstrong. She is going with Darcy’s cousin, Edward Fitzwilliam—”

  “Edward?” Lydia’s face broke into a smile. “Oh, how I long to see him again. We met him at a ball given in the assembly rooms in Bath. He was forever flirting with me.”

  “I am not surprised,” said Mrs Bennet. “You have always looked well, Lydia. And now he has given Lizzy and Darcy the idea of going to Egypt. If only I could go to Egypt! But your father will not hear of it. I have told him it will do wonders for my nerves, but no one ever thinks of me. If only your father was more like Mr Darcy’s father and Edward’s father.”