by Mary Beeken
Marcus looked around. “I think I see them. Come this way. Why do you need to get there before Lady Genevieve?”
“Because she will want to give me a history lesson all about the ceremonies and techniques of mummification used by the Egyptians and from there she will go onto the Gods and before we know it we will be onto the political structure!” Dizzy replied.
“Do you not enjoy the history?” he asked.
“Yes of-course but not as much as Genevieve and she does tend to lecture one rather than discuss. She is only two years my senior and therefore we were taught all our lessons together but I think sometimes she forgets and feels the need to educate me all over again. Of-course, in her defence, she has continued her own research and keeps abreast of all the latest historical theories and discoveries but it is more than I need, or indeed want, to know. ”
They stopped next to the first display case in which reposed a mummy still completely encased in bandages yellowed by age and the ointments used at the time of wrapping.
“Is it what you were expecting?” Glenmore asked, as he observed her taking in all the detail.
“Shorter than I thought. Do you think he has shrunk over time or was he only tall to start with?”
“He is a she for a start,” he corrected her; reading the information card at the foot of the case. “How can they tell? She is still wrapped?” Dizzy asked, perplexed.
“The archaeologist, who found her, was meticulous about keeping notes and preserving evidence at the site of excavation. He is a leader in his field,” he replied before walking over to the next exhibit. “Over here is a partially unwrapped one. It is amazing to think that this person was alive around three thousand years ago and yet his skin and features have all been preserved.”
Dizzy came to stand next to him and looked at the leathery face surrounded still by wisps of hair, now orange in colour but recognisable in texture and appearance as human tresses.
“He is a very long way, is he not, from home both in years and miles? If he were to come back to life now, you could forgive him for thinking he was on another planet. The question is how would he act?”
“What do you mean, act?” Glenmore asked.
“Would he cower and cry or would he brazen it out and fight ferociously with everyone he met? Or then again, would he bide his time and sneak away when the museum closed and everyone has gone home?”
“Whatever he decided to do he would soon be discovered and overpowered. His complete lack of knowledge of our society and language would be a serious obstacle,” he pointed out to her.
“So he would have to be super intelligent then or in possession of magical powers. Egyptians were very fond of curses so perhaps he uses them to escape and wreak havoc on an unsuspecting London.”
“Are we heading into some sort of gothic horror now?” Glenmore laughed.
“The story could go any which way we wanted. I know the gothic novel is very popular at the moment but personally I am not a huge fan. It is fun to think of the mummy coming back to life but too beyond the realms of reality for me. I do like murder and mystery though and the Egyptian theme would add an interesting twist do you not think? The murderer could manipulate an ancient curse to commit a heinous crime.” Dizzy was warming to her theme much to Glenmore’s amusement.
“What sort of death did you have in mind for the victim? Would it be some age old poison?” he asked.
“Oh poison would be much too tame would it not for the Egyptian link. It would have to be something appropriately gruesome,” Dizzy grinned, “With lots of bloodletting and terribly gory!”
“Your brother told me you liked to create stories and that you acted them out with your dolls. I thought he meant fairy stories with happy ever afters but I was obviously mistaken. Tell me,” here Glenmore lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Did your dolls all come to grisly ends? Are their decapitated heads to be found littered around the nursery or buried beneath the rose bushes?”
Dizzy laughed and said, “Only those that I found particularly provoking, My Lord Duke, so be warned!” Then as another thought occurred to her she continued with a slight frown marring her countenance, “My brother told you about my stories too did he? He really did excel last night didn’t he? Perhaps I need to cast him in the role of victim. One moreover who has his tongue cut out and fed to the fish!”
“I thought I was trying to avoid you this morning because of your antics last night but obviously it was some sixth sense warning me that more was at stake than just being caught in your matrimonial snare,” Glenmore told her and laughed when she scowled at him.
“When will you listen?” Dizzy was all indignant. “I have absolutely no matrimonial designs on your person then or now. I had not even set eyes on you until after I had inadvertently walked into you. In fact I thought I had bumped into a wall!”
“Do you often careen into walls then, that you are so familiar with the feel?” he asked her, provokingly.
“Why yes! Don’t you?” she returned sweetly, refusing to rise to the bait.
“I cannot say I do. I usually look where I am going and thus avoid such calamities,” he answered.
“Then you only have yourself to blame. Leap blindly, occasionally Your Grace and see what happens!” she told him.
“I would break a limb or worse still, this rather fine nose of mine,” he rubbed a lean, well manicured finger down the length of said nose and Dizzy found herself mesmerized by it. She gave herself a mental shake and caught the knowing look as he quirked a smile at her.
“Do not try and flirt with me!” she warned him and scowled again when he put back his head and laughed. “Were you truly trying to avoid me this morning?” she returned to his earlier comment.
“Yes. That is why we left the Marbles exhibition moments after arriving. We thought we could come and wait until you had moved on before returning.”
“That is so funny because I was trying to avoid you. Georgiana would insist on asking questions and I was trying to get away before you noticed me.”
“I noticed you as soon as I walked in! Then when you turned and walked away from us, we left. I cannot understand how you beat us to the gallery.”
“Oh there is a side exit that cannot be seen from the main entrance. Georgie and I slipped through there and I was congratulating myself on my escape. Prematurely it then transpired for you were not many minutes behind were you?” Dizzy said more statement than question. “But let me just set your mind at rest. I have no desire to become your Duchess. In fact I would in all honesty set my sights at this fellow before you! No offence intended.” She indicated the mummy by throwing her hand out towards him and in so doing knocked the display case that wobbled precariously before coming to a standstill once more. The mummy continued to move for a moment longer before it too settled back into lifelessness.
“None taken,” Glenmore replied. “But look at how he shudders! I do not think he wants to be hunted into matrimony with you, any more than I. No offence intended!”
“None taken,” Dizzy answered with a broad smile that matched his. “So we can now avoid each other with composure and if we do happen to cross paths there need only be the barest of civilities without any embarrassment on either side.”
“I am so glad that is all sorted to our mutual satisfaction,” Glenmore said with mock solemnity and holding out his hand, added. “Perhaps we should shake on it.”
Dizzy offered her hand and he took it in a firm grasp, before relinquishing it. She was momentarily taken aback by the tingle that shimmered along her fingers and into her wrist before petering out.
“Is anything the matter?” Glenmore enquired in what he hoped was an innocent tone but really he knew was more of a smug, know it all tone. “You seem distracted all of a sudden?”
“I am hungry!” Dizzy replied quickly. “Breakfast was a long time ago and I missed lunch.”
“I see,” he replied with a lopsided grin and Dizzy was very much afraid he did se
e, more than she wanted. She could not understand why shaking hands had caused her to tingle in such a ridiculous manner. It certainly was not attraction.
‘Perhaps it was more of a sting than a tingle’, she thought. ‘Yes. That was definitely the way to view it; a sting of repulsion and not a tingle of attraction!’
“I do believe the others have caught us up at long last. I wonder what has been keeping them,” Glenmore said as the others all sauntered into the room and began to disperse amongst the numerous exhibits.
Together they turned but the handle of Dizzy’s reticule caught on the glass coffin of the mummy and once again it protested angrily as it scraped along the floor in their wake. Dizzy spinning round in order to see what had occurred, tripped over her feet and plunged forward; arms outstretched, straight for the glass lid.
Miraculously, or so it seemed to her, the inevitable collision and subsequent pain of breaking glass slicing skin did not happen as she felt herself hauled back by strong, capable arms and held unyielding against the body she recognised as the wall from the night before. The tingling from her hand seemed pathetic now as a crescendo of tremors ricocheted around inside her.
“Must be even hungrier than I thought!” she mumbled.
“Perhaps you are loath to leave the object of your desires,” Marcus commented.
“I’m sorry?” Dizzy squeaked.
“The mummy! You did say he was more your idea of husband material than me!” he explained.
“Oh yes. He is the silent, non-interfering type. Very reliable you see for he is always to be found where you left him, reposed and relaxed. He takes everything lying down so is not put out by anything,” she confirmed with a brisk nod although it was hard to perform as she was still pressed firmly up against him.
Glenmore continued to hold her to him even though the moment of mishap had passed. Her five feet and six inches and slim, soft frame fit comfortably against his larger body and he was surprised at how good it felt and how reluctant he was to relinquish that feeling.
Gabriel and Genevieve so very alike in colouring and features; masculine and feminine versions of near identical faces, strolled up and broke the spell that kept Glenmore and Dizzy physically attached.
“Have you regained your balance, Dizzy?” Genevieve asked. “I want to show you the jewellery. It was believed to belong to noble woman and is very intricate.”
With a quick word of thanks and a nod of farewell, the two young women accompanied by their brother, moved away and were soon deep in conversation about the various treasures to be discovered in the jewellery section and Marcus spying his friends decided to join them.
“Will you stop your lovey-dovey nonsense now I am here?” was his opening comment. “After eight years of marriage you really should be beyond it, you know!”
“We are only holding hands, Glenmore which is fairly tame compared to what you were just doing to Lady Dizzy,” the Marquis responded.
“Yes, we noticed how successful you were in avoiding her. Tell me again; why did we leave the Elgin Marbles so precipitously? Was it not to avoid a certain young lady?” his Marchioness joined in the gentle ribbing.
“You will both be glad to hear that Lady Dizzy and I have come to an understanding,” Marcus informed his friends.
“What!!” they both said in unison.
“Not that sort of understanding!”
“Is there another sort?” Erica asked.
“Given the choice between Mustapha Mummy and my good self, she would rather marry the silent, dead type. Of-course, ignoring the other in public is no longer an option now that we have been formally introduced, but the barest civilities are all that will be required whenever our paths do cross.”
Both Erica and Ross burst out laughing and Glenmore added “Would you like me to introduce you to Mustapha? He is a perfectly amenable chap, I assure you!”
“Another time perhaps! Right now I think we should find the refreshment rooms. I overheard Gabriel Brockton giving his kinsfolk a ten minute warning that he would be going for cake whether they liked it or not and I would not put it past them consuming all the iced fancies before we get a look in. Come along!”
Chapter Three
The Brockton clan tumbled out of their luxurious coach at the end of the afternoon, happy, full and exchanging banter. A trip to the refreshment rooms had resulted in a remarkable amount of tea and cakes being consumed before they had ventured home but even then Gabriel had insisted they take a detour via the confectioners to replenish his dwindling supply of chocolate. Of-course the others only agreed providing he promised to make purchases for each of them too and for Coulton their butler for, as Genevieve pointed out, he would make them pay in small but excruciatingly uncomfortable ways if they were to return without a sizable gift of edible heaven for him.
Coulton was unlike every other butler of the ton in that he had never learned to mask his expression and remain straight faced no matter the situation. His elastic, somewhat ugly features were perfect for the medieval art of Gurning and had actually won him a competition or two at the country fayres, and thus by their very nature were not disposed to be those of a butler. Whilst other households boasted a senior servant so far superior he could snuff the pretensions of the most formidable Duchess with the slightest lift of an eyebrow and a tone of barely concealed disdain, the Earl of Leveston and his family employed one who openly scowled at most callers; thought nothing of speaking his mind to whomsoever he felt was in need of his opinion, regardless of status and who was not disposed to hide his humour whether good or ill. The present Dowager had employed him on her marriage as a favour to her old nurse whose nephew he was, but also because it secretly amused her and her new husband to employ a very young and unbutlerish butler in opposition to the perceived norm. Over the years it had been expected that he would grow into his role and adopt a persona more in keeping with the major-domo of one of the leading households in the country, but Coulton saw no reason to change and continued very much as he had always done. When his employer succeeded to the Earldom he made several half hearted attempts to retrain his butler into the accepted mode but all efforts had been singularly unsuccessful and so the status quo had been maintained. Neither the Earl nor his Duchess were disposed to replace him, especially as he proved to be a staunch alley when dealing with their children; a wily handful the lot of them, according to the late Duke who was inclined to be too indulgent by half himself and therefore happy to leave Coulton to administer a staunch reprimand or quick clip around the ear whenever necessary. The present Duke holding Coulton in equal measures of affection and respect and it had to be said, a tiny amount of fear, retained his services and thus the next generation of Brocktons were raised under his watchful eye. Whether it was because Coulton had mellowed over the years or more likely, that the latest Brocktons were better adept at twisting him around their little fingers, meant that they could get away with far more than their father would ever have dreamed possible.
As they reached the top of the steps of their London mansion, the glossy, black front door swung open to reveal a scowling Coulton.
“About time you remembered where you lived and came back. What with Mr Alfie arriving from Devon and none of you were here to greet him and me expecting you this hour past. How long does it take to view a few bits of marble?”
“Coulton; I have chocolate!” Gabriel immediately thrust a large package into the Butler’s hand in an attempt, successful as it turned out, to arrest the scold before it had truly gotten under way.
“Why Master Gabriel, what a good lad you are.” His wrinkled visage rearranged itself into a wide appreciative grin as he peered like an excited child at the parcel in his hands; his scold all forgotten as he thought about his cup of tea and chocolate treat he would enjoy later.
“Did you say Alfie is here?” Mrs Honey Dew said removing her bonnet and handing it to the waiting footman.
“Here I am my little Honey Potts!” came a jovial voice from the library
and out popped a man of average height in his middle fifties with white hair and a pair of steel-rimmed, reading glasses perched on the end of his somewhat bulbous nose.
“Alfie dear!” Mrs Honey Potts almost skipped up to him and gave him a quick hug and a brief kiss on the lips before stepping back to survey her husband of nearly thirty five years. “Why did you not say you were coming? We would have made sure to be here when you arrived.”
“I wanted to surprise you my love. As you know I had planned to come up next week but I have missed you my dear and so decided a few extra days holiday will do me no harm and seeing you will do so much good.” Alfie hugged his wife to him and patted her back, genuinely pleased to have been reunited with her after several weeks apart. “I also have a little surprise for Dizzy that Georgiana and I have been working on and I thought it would be good to see if we have it right or whether we need to make some adjustments.”
“For me?” Dizzy queried, looking from him to Georgiana and back. “You haven’t said anything Georgie and it is not my birthday.”
“It was an idea I had last time I was home. Gideon seemed to think it had potential and so Alfie and I have been developing it. I did not want to raise your hopes in case it did not work out but I am now fairly confident we have been successful.”
“What is it? Can I see it?” Dizzy asked.
“Of-course though you may want to change into your riding habit first. We will meet you in the stables in twenty minutes,” Georgie told her.
Fifteen minutes later and Dizzy now sporting a dashing riding habit hurried to the stables attached to the rear of the property. Many town residences shared the mews or used livery stables but the Brockton’s residence was large enough to boast fairly extensive rear gardens and its own stable block. Dizzy’s habit had been specifically designed to allow her to ride astride across the parkland of the country estate whilst giving the semblance of being a skirt. Trousers fit snugly under a wrap around piece of material that was large enough to cover much of the horse’s back thus, when viewed from a distance it hid the fact that the saddle was not one usually used by a lady; namely a side-saddle.