“You seem to know your way,” said Darcy.
“I have seen the Stone before,” said Edward.
“How long has it been here?” asked William.
“Thirteen years,” said Edward. “Colonel Turner brought it to England when the French surrendered to the English in Egypt. He presented it to the king, and the king said that it should be put in the museum.”
“I should like to see the site of the battles,” said John. “Colonel Fitzwilliam has told me all about Aboukir Bay and the triumph of our armies. I wish we could go to Egypt,” he added wistfully.
They arrived at the Stone. Beth, who had shown little interest in the proceedings, was captivated by the hieroglyphs.
“Look at the beautiful pictures. That one looks like a bird,” she said. “And that one looks like a shepherd’s crook.”
“It looks like a lot of squiggles to me,” said Laurence. “If it’s been here for thirteen years, why hasn’t anyone found out what it says yet?”
“Because the language is very different from anything we are used to,” said Edward.
William took out a notebook and started copying the hieroglyphs, but Edward said, “There is no need for that. I have a print of them in my bags. I will give it to you when we return to the house.”
Elizabeth was as intrigued as the children. The Stone seemed very exotic and she could almost feel the heat of the desert as she looked at it. How wonderful it must be to travel, to see the pyramids and deserts, to float down the Nile and smell the unfamiliar scents that permeated that strange world!
“I will have to leave you here for a while,” said Edward. “It is time for my meeting with Sir Matthew.”
As Edward was about to leave them, Darcy took him to one side.
“Does Sir Matthew know you are the son of an earl?” he asked.
“Of course,” said Edward. Adding, with a sudden smile, “How else do you think I managed to arrange an interview with him?”
“I suppose it would do no good to warn you that he is only interested in your family’s wealth and status, not your enthusiasm?” asked Darcy. “Expeditions cost a great deal of money to pursue, and scholars are always short of funds.”
“No good at all,” said Edward. “Just as it would do no good for you to warn him that I am not just interested in his knowledge, but that I hope to persuade him to take me with him when he returns to Egypt.”
He bowed and withdrew, leaving the Darcys to wander the room and exclaim over the strange treasures housed in the museum. There were Greek vases, marble statues, and even an Egyptian mummy, which delighted Laurence. John, meanwhile, was more interested in the collection of medals, and William perused the collection of books.
All was going well until Beth, looking around her, said, “Where is Margaret?”
Elizabeth looked round and realised that her youngest daughter had strayed.
“She went over there,” Laurence said.
He pointed in the direction of an antechamber and then immediately lost interest in his smallest sister as Darcy pointed out a ferocious-looking sword. But Elizabeth and Beth went in search of Margaret.
The antechamber was darker than the main rooms, without any windows, which rendered it mysterious and somewhat eerie. A few candles guttered on the bare walls and for a moment Elizabeth felt herself overcome with a sense of foreboding. The fact that there were no visitors in this particular room made it seem more sinister.
“There you are, Margaret,” she heard Beth say.
She turned to see her youngest daughter staring at a set of painted friezes in the corner of the chamber. The little girl’s eyes were set in enchanted wonder.
“What is it, my love?” Elizabeth asked, smiling, as she walked across to join both girls.
“Look, Mama. Margaret has found some pictures. Aren’t they unusual?” Beth replied.
Elizabeth examined the pictures. They were set into a thick wooden board which had been propped up rather haphazardly against the wall. There were only six pictures, although it looked as though there was space for several more. Each picture was of the same figure, that of a woman with elongated eyes and generously curved body. But she was clearly not a sympathetic character. In every picture she was pictured surrounded by tiny corpses at her feet, who had obviously not died of natural causes.
“Oh, Beth, how gruesome…” Elizabeth began, but another voice interrupted her.
“Ah, early visitors to my femme fatale.”
They all turned to see a man in his midfifties looking at them. He wore tightly fitting breeches, a long tailcoat cut away to show a rather faded waistcoat of cream brocade, and his cravat had been inexpertly tied. But his hair was his own, a faded brown with grey sideburns, and he smiled at them with merry eyes.
“Good day to you, sir,” said Elizabeth, while Beth and Margaret curtsied formally. “My daughters and I seem to have strayed into an unfinished exhibit room.”
“Unfinished and likely to remain so, madam,” said the gentleman. “I donated these artefacts to the museum and intended to fill the room with antiquities, but my sponsors have lost their appetite for the venture. Can’t say as I blame them, really. The minx in the picture isn’t the best advertisement for inspiring the imagination of the British public. But I took a fancy to her story while I was in Egypt and picked up this little trinket in a bazaar in Cairo.”
“You have been to Egypt?” Beth said with interest.
The gentleman smiled at her.
“I have, my dear, many times, for pleasure and in the pursuit of academic interests. It is a fascinating place.”
Elizabeth said, “You are making us very envious, Mr.…?”
“Rosen, madam,” he said, tipping his top hat. “Sir Matthew Rosen.”
“Sir Matthew, it is a pleasure to meet you,” said Elizabeth, taking the introduction upon herself. “I am Mrs Fitzwilliam Darcy and these are my daughters Beth and Margaret.”
“Enchanted. And what do you ladies think of my Egyptian lady? I admit to a certain doomed attraction for her, although I strongly suspect her story is no more than the figment of some wily souk keeper’s imagination in order to sell a worthless bauble to a Western souvenir hunter.”
He smiled as he said this, and Elizabeth laughed.
“She is certainly very wicked if these images are anything to go by.”
“She wasn’t very happy,” said Margaret, speaking for the first time.
Sir Matthew looked at her curiously.
“What makes you say that, my dear?”
“Because it’s true. People were mean to Aahotep, so she was mean back.”
Now Sir Matthew looked at her in frank surprise. “However did you know that?”
“My daughter has a vivid imagination,” said Elizabeth with a smile.
“And your lady looks like the doll Cousin Edward gave her, doesn’t she? Look,” said Beth, taking Margaret’s hand and revealing the doll.
Elizabeth glanced at the wooden toy in Margaret’s hand and noticed that it did bear a striking resemblance to the figure in the pictures.
“And who is Cousin Edward, young lady?” asked Sir Matthew, looking more interested in all of them now.
“My husband’s cousin, Edward Fitzwilliam,” explained Elizabeth, taking Margaret’s hand.
“Would this be the Honourable Edward Fitzwilliam, with whom I believe I have an appointment imminently?” Sir Matthew asked, examining a pocket watch as he spoke.
Elizabeth smiled. “Indeed. He is looking forward to it very much. Edward has a great hunger for all things to do with Egypt, as my daughters will testify.”
“Then I look forward to meeting him,” said Sir Matthew.
Elizabeth sensed the unspoken comment that he had not been looking forward to meeting her young cousin before, which would explain why he was alone in a room devoid of nearly all decoration rather than trying to interest Edward in funding his trip.