Amanda Grange & Jacqueline Webb (8 page)

But Paul's real attention was given to Sophie, and he spent most of his time either sketching her or watching her in silent adoration.

Edward was not so silent. He endeavoured to interest Sophie in his enthusiasms and succeeded in bringing the occasional smile to her lips. But then she drew back, like a child drawing her hand back from the fire at the memory of a previous time when, seeking to warm herself, she had been burned.

Sir William and Lady Lucas spoke at length of their daughter Charlotte and Charlotte's husband, Mr Collins, who, with Mr Darcy's help, had acquired a valuable living. Elizabeth had to smile when Lady Lucas remarked that Mr Collins spent long hours with his parishioners and that Charlotte bore his frequent absences without complaint.

But the morning of their departure arrived without any real arguments, and Elizabeth heaved a sigh of relief as everything was packed and trunks were carried downstairs. She had the occasional sinking feeling that they would not be ready in time, but at last everything was done. The children were put in one of the Darcy coaches with their grandmama; the Lucases offered a seat to Edward, who accepted with alacrity; Paul Inkworthy accepted the offer of a seat on the box next to the coachman, leaving Darcy and Elizabeth to make the journey in Darcy's phaeton.

There had been some debate about whether they should travel for one long day or stay overnight at an inn and have two shorter journeys, but it had been decided in the end that they should break their journey so as to arrive at the ship feeling refreshed.

The decision proved a good one, for when they drove into Southampton the following day, they were not too tired to enjoy the wonderful sight which met their eyes.

“Well, what do you think of it, my dear?” asked Darcy as he helped Elizabeth down from the phaeton.

Elizabeth looked around her, taking in the busy harbour, which was full of hurrying men and women, horses, carts, and, above them, wheeling seagulls. She breathed in deeply, inhaling the salty, fresh air, as her eyes came to rest on their own vessel. She looked at it with awe. It was a large ship, freshly painted, which boasted two tall masts, each with five billowing white sails of increasing size and two smaller ones at the front. Sailors in rough working clothes, their hair dipped in tar, scurried along the decks. All about them was hustle and bustle.

“Magnificent,” she said appreciatively.

Her children stared in wonder, for they had never seen anything like it.

John was gaping in something akin to adoration at the way the sailors scrambled up the masts with the agility and confidence of monkeys.

“So, John,” came a familiar voice behind them, “do you think you might like a life in His Majesty's navy, rather than in the army?”

They turned to see Colonel Fitzwilliam, and John's face lit up. He took a step forward and looked as if he were about to hug his father's cousin, before pride got the better of him and he stood to attention.

“No, sir,” he said. “It's the army for me.”

“Good boy!” said Colonel Fitzwilliam approvingly.

John was not the only one who was pleased to see the colonel.

“Brother!” said Edward, greeting him warmly and clasping him by the hand. “I wondered if you might come to see us off.”

“I was in the neighbourhood and could not resist,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. “The Darcy expedition is the talk of the port. It is not often that someone can afford to commission a ship to take them all the way to Egypt. You were wise,” he said, turning to Darcy. “It is no small thing to take a family so far. I think you will have good fortune, though; she is a fine ship. Her captain, too, is well spoken of.” His gaze wandered from the ship back to John, who was eager for his attention. “It will be an opportunity for you to find your sea legs, John. As a soldier, you will often be transported to the scene of battle by the navy, and you must accustom yourself to life aboard.”

“Yes, indeed, John,” said Mrs Bennet, who had been silent for two minutes and could manage no more. “And I am sure it would do me good, too. Some sea air is just what I would like to set me up. A sea voyage is just what I need.”

Elizabeth and Darcy exchanged glances, but otherwise ignored this hint, as they had ignored every other hint, large and small, dropped by Mrs Bennet since her arrival at Darcy House.

“I think I see the captain,” said Darcy diplomatically. “Let us board.”

They made their way up the gangplank. This mode of entry proved irresistible to Laurence, who ran up and down it several times until he nearly overbalanced. He was just about to fall into the ocean when he was caught by Paul Inkworthy, who was bringing up the rear.

The entire party was welcomed on board by a tall man of middle years, his fine military posture and smart uniform immediately proclaiming him the captain of the ship.

“Captain Merriweather, may I introduce my wife, Mrs Fitzwilliam Darcy,” said Darcy.

Captain Merriweather took her hand and kissed it lightly.

“I'm delighted to make your acquaintance, ma'am,” he said.

“As I am yours, sir. This is indeed a splendid ship.”

He smiled, pleased at the compliment. “I like to think so, ma'am, though I own I may be prejudiced. My wife tells me I pay more attention to this vessel than I do her or my children.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed, and the two men greeted each other with respect.

“You have every reason to be proud, Captain,” said Elizabeth, looking around her.

Once on board, she found the ship was even finer than she had thought. As Darcy continued with the introductions, her eyes wandered over the masts and wheel, to the ship's crew and the barrels of provisions which were being rolled on board.

“And is this the last of your luggage?” asked Captain Merriweather, as trunks followed the Darcys.

“It is.”

“Then I will see that it is stowed safely below. We will be leaving with the tide in the next hour, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, as he left them to see to essential matters. “I must ask you to make all necessary preparations and say your good-byes before then.”

He nodded to Darcy and marched off along the deck.

“How exciting it all is, Lizzy,” said Mrs Bennet. “And what a wonderful ship. Do you not think so, Lady Lucas?” She turned round. “Lady Lucas?”

But Lady Lucas, together with her husband and daughter, had already gone below.

“I daresay they are looking at Sophie's room,” said Mrs Bennet, adding in an aggrieved tone of voice, “though why you had to invite Sophie Lucas when you have four perfectly good sisters of your own, I cannot imagine.”

Elizabeth was glad that the Lucases were not there to hear such an uncharitable sentiment, and to distract her mother's thoughts, she said, “Let me show you our cabin.”

One of the cabin boys was on hand to show them the way, and they followed him slowly down the spiral staircase. The accommodation was rather cramped after the spacious and luxurious surroundings of Darcy House as well as Pemberley, but nevertheless Elizabeth regarded it as part of the adventure. And besides, for shipboard accommodation it was unusually spacious. The Darcys had taken over an entire deck, and she could tell from her children's excited shrieks that they were delighted.

As well as quarters for the servants and tutors that they had brought with them, there was a master bedroom for herself and Darcy and a cabin for the boys, while the girls were sharing another. Edward had a cabin next to Mr Inkworthy. Since the two men had become somewhat cool toward one another, especially when in the company of Sophie, Elizabeth could only guess at how their relationship might progress during the journey. As for Sophie, she had been allocated a tiny little room all to herself, and Elizabeth heard murmurs of interest from the Lucases, who were examining it together.

“Mama, do come and look,” shouted Laurence, running up to her. Taking her hand, he pulled her toward the cabin he was to share with his brothers. “The windows are round.”

“They're called portholes, Laurence,” William informed him disdainfully.

Laurence ignored him.

“And look, little beds on top of each other too.”

William rolled his eyes. “Bunk beds,” he said.

Laurence poked his tongue out at his older brother.

“Mama, I want to sleep on one of the top ones, but John and William won't let me.”

“You must all take it in turns, my darling. That is what Papa and I will do.”

“Mama, you do not have bunk beds in your room.”

“Well then, you must let me take it in turns to share the top one with you!” Elizabeth replied, her eyes twinkling.

Just then Jane and Beth appeared, and both Elizabeth and Mrs Bennet were taken to admire the girls' cabin.

They were joined at length by Darcy, who made it clear in his polite but determined fashion that Mrs Bennet should join Sir William and Lady Lucas, who were now being shown back to the top deck by Sophie in order to disembark from the ship.

Fond farewells were exchanged, although Elizabeth could not help feeling guiltily relieved that Mrs Bennet would soon be on her way back to Meryton.

As Elizabeth began to accompany her mother up to the top deck, Beth appeared from the girls' cabin.

“Mama,” she said in agitation, “do please come quickly. Jane says she is feeling sick.”

After the way Jane had been eating sweetmeats, which had thoughtfully been provided for her by her grandmama, Elizabeth was not surprised. She looked at her mother accusingly for a moment, but Mrs Bennet returned her gaze innocently and said, “It is the motion of the ship, no doubt, all this bobbing about on the water. Be off with you, Lizzy; pray do not worry about me. I am sure I can find my own way to shore.”

Elizabeth embraced her mother and wished her a fond farewell, then followed Beth to find Jane lying on one of the bunks and looking very green. The motion of the ship was not helping matters, nor was the rather stale air below.

Being a great believer in fresh air herself, Elizabeth first admonished her daughter for eating too many sweetmeats and then, holding out her hand, led Jane up onto the deck.

A fresh breeze was blowing, and in a few minutes Jane was starting to look a little better. The activity all about them was good for her, too, as it took her mind off her ills. Sir William and Lady Lucas were hurrying down the gangplank, while the sailors waited impatiently for them to reach the dock so that they could cast off. The boys were leaning eagerly over the ship's rail, watching all the activity.

The last of the guests having departed, the sailors loosed the thick rope that secured the ship then sprang lightly aboard, pulling up the gangplank as the ship rolled on the waves and began to pull away from land. On the dock, the Lucases turned to wave to Sophie, and Colonel Fitzwilliam saluted the passengers, giving a special smile to John.

From his specially chosen vantage point on board, Paul Inkworthy made rapid sketches of the sailors, the port, the passengers, the ship, and the seascape, while Edward enquired after Sophie's comfort, wondering if he could bring her a shawl or anything else she might require. Sophie, still looking wan but with some animation, said that she would appreciate her shawl, and Edward hurried off to get it.

“Well, we are off,” said Darcy, coming up behind Elizabeth and offering her his arm.

She took it gladly, her eyes bright. “We are indeed. Let us hope the rest of our journey goes so smoothly.”

“Is there anything wrong with Jane?” asked Darcy, as he noticed that his daughter was quieter than usual.

“No, only a stomachache. Mama has been feeding her sweetmeats.”

“That is one danger we will no longer have to worry about!” said Darcy with a laugh.

“No. Much as I love my family, I…”

Her voice trailed away and a look of horror spread over her face.

Darcy looked at her curiously. “Is anything wrong?” he asked.

“Tell me I am dreaming. Tell me it is a trick of the light or a hallucination,” said Elizabeth faintly.

He followed her gaze and saw… Mrs Bennet, coming up from below!

“Oh dear,” said Mrs Bennet blithely. “What a catastrophe! I must have taken a wrong turn down below. And I was so sure I knew my way onto the deck. But I found myself in a storeroom with a lot of barrels, and then I found myself in another room with boxes and trunks, and somehow I could not find my way back to the gangplank,” she said with an unconvincing sigh. “And now the ship has sailed. It seems I must come to Egypt with you after all.”

“No!” said Elizabeth, horrified. “That is, I am sure there is still time for you to disembark.”

But the captain looked at her regretfully and said, “I am afraid that all who are aboard must stay aboard, Mrs Darcy. The tide waits for no one, ma'am.”

The first few weeks at sea were a new experience for the whole party. To begin with, they all suffered from the perils of the ocean to a greater or lesser degree. William, Laurence, Jane, and Margaret were laid low, and even John looked decidedly pale, while Sophie could walk nowhere without falling over. Elizabeth spent most of her time at the front of the ship, where no one could see how green she was looking, and Darcy spent a great deal of time with the captain, trying to take his mind off his ills by learning about their voyage. Edward remained in his cabin, from where groans emerged periodically, and Paul found himself a few choice spots from which to observe, sketch, and paint. Since neither he nor Beth suffered any great ill effects from the motion of the ship, they were often together, with Paul taking a kindly interest in her talented drawings and Beth regarding him with adoration.

By and by they all adjusted to the motion of the ship. Even Mrs Bennet, whose early elation at being one of the party had disappeared when she had felt the first wave of nausea, began to like the voyage.

And indeed, there was much to enjoy: the sound of the sails flapping in the breeze; the creaking of the ropes; the variety of the blues and greens of the ocean; the ever changing waves; the clean tang of salt; the sightings of unusual sea birds; the joy of seeing great schools of fish; the exciting and colourful ports at which they called to pick up fresh supplies; and the pleasure of finding letters from friends and relatives waiting for them in every port.

For Darcy there was also the joy of seeing his family adjusting so well to shipboard life. He felt a swell of pride as he walked onto deck one morning and saw John swarming up the rigging, finally climbing into the crow's nest; for while the rest of the party had been content to continue their normal pursuits on board, John had availed himself of every opportunity for activity and new experiences. Whenever his studies had allowed—and the children were often occupied with their tutors—he learned how to set sails, tie knots, and even take the wheel. Darcy stood for a moment, delighted to see his eager and energetic son enjoying himself.

“That is quite a boy you have there,” said the captain, as John helped to unfurl a sail which had become caught in the rigging. “He tells me he intends to go into the army, but it is a loss for the navy. I would have been glad of him on my naval ship before I left to pursue civilian life, and any captain would feel the same. The boy is bold and adventurous, but he does not take any unnecessary risks, and he tempers his adventurous spirit with intelligence.”

Darcy's heart swelled even further with paternal pride at this. But then, all of a sudden, the realisation hit him that John was growing up. He had always known it, but he had envisaged John merely a year or two in the future. Now he saw that soon John would become a man—a fine man, but one who would no longer need him. He was suddenly aware of a feeling of emptiness and loss and he understood how Elizabeth felt when she did not want her youngest son to be sent away to school. He had a wish to seize the moment and hold on to it, to stretch it out so that it would never end. It was captured in all its detail, with the sound of the gulls and the crack of the sails and the concentration on his son's face. And then John swarmed down the rigging and ran up to show him a new knot he had just learned to tie, and Darcy saw him as a ten-year-old boy once more and let the moment move on.

Laurence, meanwhile, was playing around his grandmama's skirts. He had at first wanted to join in his older brother's activities, but he lacked John's nimbleness and unfailing courage and so was content at last to run around the deck and bedevil his indulgent grandmama.

William, always immaculately dressed and walking with the unconscious arrogance of a Darcy as he moved about the ship, pursued his studies. His one concession to his location was that he pursued them on the deck, not below, and was presently looking through a telescope out to sea.

The girls, too, were enjoying their new venture, and while Beth sketched and painted, Jane was often to be found running round her grandmama, while it was common to see Margaret with Sophie.

The two were together now and as John ran off to help fold a sail, Darcy smiled to see them. His youngest daughter was often overlooked, especially by her grandmama, who preferred the more boisterous older children, but Sophie had taken the little girl under her wing and Darcy felt very glad they had brought Miss Lucas with them. She was looking very pretty in a summer dress with a light spencer jacket, the sun playing on her fair hair and the breeze catching at the feather in her bonnet.

He went over to her and complimented her on her embroidery, then praised Margaret's sampler, which was covered in shapes that resembled hieroglyphs.

“That is an unusual pattern,” he said.

“It's Egyptian writing,” said Margaret seriously.

“Margaret designed her sampler herself,” said Sophie, looking fondly at the little girl.

“And what does it say?” Darcy asked his daughter teasingly, for not even Edward could unlock the secrets of the strange pictorial writing, though he spent the greater part of every day trying.

“It says, ‘Aahotep
nefer
,' which means ‘Aahotep the beautiful,'” said Margaret gravely.

Darcy was surprised at her imagination, which had never been in evidence before. But ever since she had discovered the doll it had been developing, and he found himself wondering if his youngest daughter might follow in the footsteps of Fanny Burney and become a novelist; although, if the things he had overheard her saying to her doll were anything to go by, she would be more likely to write Gothic horrors and become a second Mrs Radcliffe.

John
a
soldier, Meg a novelist, William the heir of Pemberley, Beth an artist… and what would Laurence and Jane become when they grew up?
he wondered.

His thoughts were brought back to the present by the sight of Elizabeth standing at the prow of the ship. Her face was turned into the fresh breeze and her hair was blowing loose of its pins, dancing across her neck in a tantalising manner. He went to join her. He put his arms around her waist, and she turned at the feel of him, smiling up into his eyes. He thought how lucky he was, knowing himself to be as much in love with her as he had been on the day they married.

“Is it not exhilarating?” she said, her eyes sparkling.

He kissed her cheek lovingly. “It is. Ah, you mean the voyage!”

She laughed and put her arms over his.

“I was on the point of regretting the voyage when we were all afflicted with seasickness, but now I find myself wishing it would never end,” she said. “There is something invigorating about a life on the water.”

“This is just the start of things,” said Darcy. “Only a few more weeks, and we will be in Egypt.”

“Today it is all water, then it will be all sand!”

“And I have something to show you when we arrive.”

“Oh? And what might that be?”

He took evident satisfaction in her curiosity.

“Let us just say it is a surprise.”

***

While the others amused themselves on deck, Edward was in his cabin, poring over a print of the Rosetta Stone. He had been obsessed with its translation when it had first been discovered at the start of the century, but his interest had waned, only to be reawakened when he had found the map.

He became thoughtful as he relived the memory.

His father's tales of Egypt had inspired him as a boy, and the thought of a map marking the spot of an undiscovered—and unplundered—tomb had fired his imagination. But his father had refused to let him examine the map, saying it was worthless and telling him not to waste his life on daydreams. So Edward had stopped talking to his father about Egypt, but he had not stopped visiting museums, reading about the latest findings, and collecting pottery.

And then, on a particularly rainy afternoon the previous winter, he had gone into the attic in search of a brace of pistols which had been taken there by mistake, and on a table in a wooden box he had found the map—or at least part of it, for it was incomplete. Nevertheless, there was enough to show that the tomb lay near a city and between two oases. His initial excitement had been dampened by the knowledge that Egypt was full of cities and oases and that his father had been unable to find the tomb despite a diligent search. He reminded himself that it would not be any different for him… until he saw that, along the top of the map, there were several rows of hieroglyphs. In his father's time, there had been no hope of translating them. But now, with the discovery of the Rosetta Stone, it seemed that such a translation might be possible; and then the fabled tomb, with its fabled treasure, would be within his grasp.

And so he had written to some of the learned men who were working on translating the hieroglyphs and discovered enough to know that the city on the map was Cairo and not Luxor. Knowing that Sir Matthew Rosen was engaged on a dig in that area, he had arranged the meeting in London, hoping that he might be able to persuade Sir Matthew to allow him to join the dig. To his great excitement, Sir Matthew had agreed to his proposal. And what had excited him more had been the discovery that Sir Matthew had in his possession a frieze showing the likeness of Aahotep. The frieze, the doll, and the tomb were all linked, for his father had believed that the tomb was that of the young bridal couple Aahotep had supposedly poisoned.

He thought of the story again. Aahotep had murdered a pair of lovers in a jealous rage and they had been buried in a hidden tomb, protected by magical spells to ensure they would rest undisturbed. Strip away the fantastic story of magicians and spells, so beloved by the ancient Egyptians, and what was left was a down-to-earth tale of two wealthy people buried together in an undiscovered tomb. And he had a map to the whereabouts of the tomb.

But most exciting of all was the knowledge that Sir Matthew had discovered the frieze in a souk near Cairo, confirming that Cairo was indeed the city on the map, and not Luxor, as his father had thought. No wonder his father's efforts to find it had been in vain!

For the first time, Edward felt he had a real chance of succeeding where his father had failed.

Visions of gold and jewels swam before his eyes… and then visions of himself bestowing them on Sophie Lucas. He had never met anyone like her. She was fragile and delicate and ethereal, and he thought her the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. When she spoke, he bent his head to listen, as if it was drawn to her by a string. Her deep sadness brought out all his chivalrous instincts and he found himself wanting to bring a smile to her beautiful face. And what better way to do it than to shower her with jewels and lay all his earthly possessions at her feet?

Pushing aside his books, he decided to take a turn on deck in the hope that Sophie might happen to be there as well.

***

Sophie was enjoying the open air and the Mediterranean sunshine. After a long, dark time, she was beginning to come to life again. The new sights and scents stimulated her, and the uncomplicated love of the Darcy children soothed her battered spirit, for although her own family had tried to help her, their constant attentions had depressed her spirits rather than otherwise. They had exhorted her to count her blessings, but this had only made her feel worse, because she then felt guilty for being ungrateful as well as feeling unhappy; they had told her to forget Mr Rotherham, which she had been unable to do; and they had reminded her that she must not leave it too long to return to the land of the living, for at the age of twenty-two she was in danger of becoming an old maid and could not delay her search for a husband. They had talked incessantly of her married sisters: Charlotte, with her comfortable rectory and three children, and Maria, with her handsome husband and her new baby. They had said that she must find the same—never realising that it was those very exhortations which had made her so vulnerable to the attentions of the handsome but fickle nephew of her father's old business partner, Mr Rotherham, in the first place.

A fresh breeze sprang up and a sudden gust caught her bonnet, diverting her thoughts to the immediate task of keeping it on her head. She put her hand on it, catching it before it was ripped away, but her feather was not so lucky. It was torn loose by the wind and danced along the deck, whirling and pirouetting as it was blown toward the rail.

Laughing at the comical sight, she sprang up to chase after it, but Paul Inkworthy was quicker. Putting aside his sketch, he leapt up and caught it, handing it to her with a laugh and a bow.

Sophie blushed as she took it, feeling suddenly awkward. Mr Inkworthy was not handsome, but his eyes were kind and intelligent and there was no denying the fact that his evident admiration had done much to restore her confidence in recent weeks. But still she did not have the courage to speak.

“Miss Lucas…” said Paul, and then he stopped.

She willed him to continue but was not surprised when he did not. What could a young man such as Mr Inkworthy—for he was a year younger than she—have to say to a woman of her age? His kindness and gentleness were indisputable, but his admiration, she told herself, was of an artistic kind. But still she could not bring herself to walk back across the deck to her embroidery. And so she looked at him, willing him to continue, for she wanted to talk to him, but she had grown tongue-tied.

He lapsed into silence again and she felt a certain empathy with him. He, too, was shy and, she suspected, uncomfortably aware of his situation. His position was a difficult one. He was not a friend of the family nor yet quite a servant, and so he was an outsider to both parties. As, in a way, was she. For although the Darcys had invited her as their guest, she was considerably younger than Elizabeth, who had been a friend of her older sister Charlotte rather than a particular friend of hers, and she did not have the wealth or the position of the Darcys. Then, too, it was not always easy for her to talk to older people. True, there was another young man on board, for Edward was more of an age with her, but she did not encourage her feelings for him, as she knew too well how vulnerable a woman made herself when she entertained feelings for a rich and handsome man.