Amanda Grange & Jacqueline Webb

by Pride

  “Well, I am glad your enemy was routed,” said Mrs Bennet, adding, “Who is your enemy?”

  Elizabeth, in the middle of her laughter, said it was no one. It did not seem the right time to enlighten Mrs Bennet; indeed, she thought the time would never come, and Mrs Bennet soon ceased to enquire. There were far more interesting things to do, such as eating dates and arguing with Laurence about the likelihood of him being allowed to keep a crocodile in the lake at Pemberley.

  Epilogue

  It was a year to the day since Edward had walked into the drawing room at Darcy House and announced his intention of visiting Sir Matthew at the British Museum. Elizabeth and Darcy had been back in England for months and were walking arm-in-arm through the gallery at Pemberley. Older paintings had been rehung or moved into the attic, so that one entire wall was now full of the paintings and sketches Paul had made both during and since the trip. In pride of place along the end wall was a mural in Egyptian style of their entire party discovering the tomb. The ochres, reds, and golds were bright next to the subtle colours of the Old Masters hanging on the other walls, and the large, flat shapes were an interesting contrast to the detailed sculptures that stood in the corners.

  “It is hard to remember the terrible heat we endured in Egypt!” said Elizabeth as she looked at the pictures, drawing her shawl around her shoulders as she did so, for although the spring sunshine poured into the gallery, as yet it had no warmth.

  “Paul has caught it very well,” said Darcy, looking at the shimmer hanging over the pyramids in a large landscape.

  “And just look at Laurence on this camel!” said Elizabeth, stopping by one particularly fine painting. “Is that not exactly his expression!”

  “Laurence’s? Or the camel’s?” Darcy teased her.

  “Both!”

  Laurence was looking absolutely delighted, and the camel was looking disdainful as it walked past an oasis glowing with jewelled waters and inviting patches of shade.

  The sound of carriage wheels crunching on the drive below distracted Elizabeth and Darcy from the paintings, and Elizabeth walked over to the window.

  “I do believe the first of our guests have arrived,” she said.

  The carriage drew to a halt and Mr and Mrs Edward Fitzwilliam stepped out. They were both looking well and had an undeniable spring in their step. Edward jumped out of the carriage and then turned to help Sophie as she sprang nimbly down the steps. They were both elegantly dressed in the latest fashions, as befit their newfound wealth.

  “We had better go and greet them,” said Darcy. “It was an excellent idea of yours to have a house party for all the adventurers so that we could relive the trip and see Paul’s work all together for the first time.”

  “And how lucky we were that Sir Matthew was back in England and that he could spare the time to join us,” said Elizabeth as they went downstairs. “He will be here by midday.”

  “Paul, too. He is much sought after these days and has one of the most fashionable studios in London.”

  “It is ironic, is it not, that it is his portrait of Sophie which made his name?” said Elizabeth. “I am surprised he let Edward buy it.”

  “I think he felt he could not refuse. Besides, once he had exhibited it, he had no more use for it. I fear it reminded him of a moment he would rather forget.”

  “Yes, it was not well done of him to leave Sophie to plunge to her doom!”

  “But it was very well done of Edward to catch her,” said Darcy. “I never expected, this time last year, to have so much to worry about with my young cousin or to have so much to feel proud about when he found his true self.”

  “Sophie looks well,” said Elizabeth as the butler opened the door.

  “Yes, very well,” said Darcy.

  There were cries of greeting and Elizabeth ran down the steps to welcome her guests, kissing them both with delight and then standing back so that Darcy could shake Edward by the hand. Then she ushered her guests into the house. Once rid of their outdoor clothing, she led them through into the drawing room and asked about their journey.

  “It was well enough, but I would have liked it more if we had come by ship!” said Sophie. “I find I miss the sea.”

  “I would rather have come by camel,” said Edward.

  “You came by camel?” enquired an excited voice as Laurence ran into the room.

  “Alas, no,” Edward admitted. “But I would have if it had been possible.”

  “Papa has promised me a camel to ride around Pemberley,” said Laurence blithely.

  “Papa has done no such thing,” said Darcy. “You will have to make do with a horse like everyone else.”

  “Why, Beth, how grown-up you look!” exclaimed Sophie. “Your hair is most becoming. I like that style very well indeed, and your gown is delectable. Let me see!”

  She admired the gown as Beth spun slowly so that she could see it from all sides.

  William walked into the room with exactly his father’s walk. John followed and greeted his guests with a bow. Jane entered behind them, and Margaret came afterward.

  Sophie looked questioningly at Elizabeth, who smiled and nodded, and then she bent down to speak to Margaret.

  “You look very well, Meg.”

  In response, Margaret put her arms round Sophie’s neck and gave her a kiss.

  “She has never mentioned the doll again?” asked Sophie as she and Elizabeth drew a little to one side, while Edward made a fuss of the children, drawing a bag of sweetmeats from his pocket.

  “No, never,” said Elizabeth. “Our little Margaret is herself again.”

  She looked fondly at Meg, who was just helping herself to a sweet and popping it into her mouth.

  “And you?” asked Elizabeth. “How is your arm?”

  “In full working order,” Sophie replied with a smile, “although sometimes in the cold it aches. I fear I shall turn into a mad aunt who prophesies rain whenever a dark cloud appears.”

  “You shall be no such thing. And how is married life?”

  “More than I could even have dreamed of! I feel like I am reborn. Marriage to Edward is wonderful.”

  “Good! Then you will not mind meeting Paul here?”

  “On the contrary, I am looking forward to it. I am very pleased for him. He has made his mark in the world, and I am happy that in some small way I helped him to do that. And I am very grateful to him for the marvellous portrait he painted of me. It is too flattering, of course, but Edward insisted on hanging it over the mantelpiece, and so there it stays.”

  “And Edward is himself again?”

  “Yes, entirely.”

  Elizabeth invited her to sit down, and the men followed suit, still talking to the children.

  “And how do you like Edward’s family?”

  “Very well. They were a little intimidating to begin with, particularly his father, but they have all accustomed themselves to the idea of the marriage. Anne and her husband helped by saying what a good idea it was, how well matched we were, and how lucky it was that we had enough to settle on. They helped bring Edward’s family round.”

  Refreshments were brought in, but hardly had the drinks been poured when another carriage pulled up in front of Pemberley and out of it stepped Mrs Bennet and Paul Inkworthy.

  Elizabeth felt a momentary sadness that her father was not with them, but he was visiting Jane and intended to travel with his eldest daughter when she visited Pemberley the following week.

  “Was this not fortunate?” said Mrs Bennet as she entered the drawing room a few minutes later. “Mr Inkworthy and I met at the coaching inn and he insisted on bringing me on in his carriage, for you know your father could not let me have our carriage and so I had to come in a hack.”

  Paul smiled and bowed and tried to look as though he had bee
n delighted to find himself with Mrs Bennet’s company for the final stage of his journey.

  He was looking much better than he had when he had joined their party as they set out for Egypt. Then he had been thin and pale; now he was looking healthy and prosperous.

  There was an awkward moment as he saw Sophie, but then he made her a bow and she said how glad she was to see him, and the moment passed. He moved on into the room and began talking to Beth, praising one of her watercolours which hung beside the fireplace.

  Their party was completed when Sir Matthew arrived, and they went in to luncheon.

  The talk was convivial. They relived their adventures and caught up on all the news, and there was much merriment.

  “I wanted Lydia and Wickham to accompany me,” said Mrs Bennet. “Lydia was eager to come, but Wickham said they had a previous engagement. It is a pity, for I am sure they would have liked to have seen the pictures of Egypt. They have never been to Egypt, nor are they likely to ever go. Wickham has not had the luck he should have had with his profession. If some people,” she said, looking straight at Darcy, “had given him the help he deserved, he would have been prime minister by now, and I daresay visited Egypt every year.”

  This remark was wisely ignored as the main course dishes were removed and various fruits and desserts were brought in. As well as apples and pears from the Pemberley orchards, there were figs and dates to remind the party of their sojourn in Egypt.

  “And how are you now, Sir Matthew?” asked Darcy of his older guest. Sir Matthew smiled.

  “Perfectly recovered, as you can see, my dear sir. The rigours of illness in Egypt can be frightening while they last, but all things pass.”

  “I am glad to hear it,” Darcy replied. “However, I believe you must be of a hardy stock, sir. When my father became ill in Egypt many years ago, my mother feared the worst.”

  “My commiserations. Perhaps I should have said the rigours of a curse. My illness certainly concerned the fellahs at the dig. But since they thought it originated from a powerful magician intent on keeping an evil spirit at bay, I suppose one cannot completely blame them.”

  Darcy looked over quickly to his other guests, but they were engrossed in the story Edward was telling about the sun god Ra and no one took any notice of the two older men.

  “I have often wondered about the curse, Sir Matthew,” Darcy said. “Here in England it seems nothing more than a tale to amuse children on long winter nights. And yet sometimes I cannot help but wonder if perhaps there was some spirit at work on that day in the tomb. Almost everything that happened I can attribute to a simple explanation. And yet…”

  “And yet still you wonder if there really was a tired restless soul longing for peace who took us to the site where so many others have failed?”

  Darcy nodded. “Margaret has no memory of it now, but for the time we were travelling she took her doll everywhere—refused to be parted from it, in fact. Indeed, on at least one occasion, my wife removed it from her and hid it where it could not be found and still it made its way back to her. And without Meg…”

  He trailed off. Without Meg wandering off by herself into the desert, it seemed likely they might not have survived. Sophie almost certainly would have died, and all Edward’s treasure would have availed him nothing.

  “It is strange, is it not?” Sir Matthew agreed gently. He seemed to be about to say something else, but just then Elizabeth stood up and gaily declared the art gallery open and ready to be visited properly. Amid much laughter the entire company followed her.

  For a good hour they walked up and down the gallery, admiring the paintings, much to Paul’s embarrassment. Mrs Bennet insisted on taking his arm and making him explain every single nuance to her and then spoiling the effect by hardly listening to a word he said. The younger children became bored after a while and soon ran off to the kitchens, where they knew the cook would have pastries for them. But Beth and William remained and the atmosphere grew quieter as at last they all found themselves in front of the largest painting, a group picture of the family in front of the lost tomb.

  Paul, it was agreed, had outdone himself with this picture. The sun was a fierce orange ball hanging low in the sky in the late afternoon, and although the sky was a bright blue and the green of the palm trees contrasted strikingly against it, there were shadows in the corners that added a somewhat sinister cast to the painting. Darcy and Elizabeth were seated in prominence in the middle of the picture, with Sophie and Edward admiring a large golden vase slightly to their left. The children were dotted around the painting in various poses, Laurence atop a camel, which had pleased him greatly. Margaret sat on her mother’s lap, a doll in her hands, which could have been made of wood or just dressed in sombre browns. The little girl was pointing to the doorway of the tomb, which was shrouded in even more shadows. From within the tomb it was just possible to see flickering candlelight.

  “A most striking depiction, young man,” Sir Matthew said, taking a pince-nez from his waistcoat pocket and peering closely at the painting.

  “It is marvellously executed,” Edward said. “I have to confess I thought some of those sketches you took were a waste of time, but you’ve included details even I had forgotten about. But this is still my favourite,” he added, pointing to a smaller painting on the other side of the gallery. It was a picture of Sophie smiling as she sat in the shade of a palm tree, her parasol half-open against the heat of the sun.

  “It is most charming,” Mrs Bennet said. “But look at this picture of the children and me at the oasis. I have insisted Lizzy let me take it home to Meryton so that her papa can see it. In fact, I think it would make an excellent addition to our parlour. It would take pride of place over the mantelpiece and Mr Bennet, I know, would be thrilled every time to…”

  As she walked off with the young couple, Elizabeth and Darcy could not help but smile.

  “This method of painting seems somewhat familiar to me, young Inkworthy,” Sir Matthew said, looking intently at a dark area of the canvas near the corner. Paul nodded.

  “It is called chiaroscuro—the use of contrasts between light and dark. It has been practised by the greats since the Renaissance, and although I know it might seem a strange style to use when painting such a bright landscape, I felt it helped capture the sense of mystery of the tomb.”

  “I believe your instincts were sound,” Sir Matthew said.

  Paul bowed. “You flatter me, Sir Matthew,” he said as Sophie, laughing, called him over. With another bow he left them.

  Sir Matthew continued to stare at the painting.

  “You know,” he said standing back at last and addressing himself to Elizabeth and Darcy, who were left standing with him, “the contrasts of light and dark are very dramatic, but at the edges there are certain greys which I believe can be just as striking and even enigmatic.”

  Elizabeth looked at him for a moment before exchanging a brief glance with Darcy.

  “What is it that you see, Sir Matthew?” she asked evenly.

  “Well, dear madam, I am not entirely sure, but here in this corner by the entrance to the tomb, just in the flickering play of the candlelight, I thought for a moment I caught the suggestion of a woman’s face. It seems to have gone now, but…”

  “I believe it will come back, Sir Matthew, when you are not looking for it,” Elizabeth said with equanimity.

  Sir Matthew looked at her.

  “Ah, you have seen it too.”

  “Only in certain lights,” Elizabeth confirmed.

  “When the sun is upon it,” Darcy added, “or when one holds a candle at a particular angle.”

  “Or one can hold it at the same angle and not see it again. And not everyone sees it,” Elizabeth added. “And Paul swears he did not paint any face there, and I believe him.”

  “Does Miss Margaret see it?” Sir Ma
tthew enquired with interest. He was staring intently at the painting, but there was nothing there to see and he knew he would find nothing. The face would find him if it wanted to be found.

  “I believe not,” Darcy said. “She much prefers the painting over there with all the monkeys at the market in Cairo. Although I have once or twice caught her suddenly looking back in this direction as though in response to someone calling her name. But she never says anything, and the gallery holds no fear for her as it might if a child feared ghosts.”

  Sir Matthew nodded. “No, I imagine it wouldn’t.” He said nothing for a moment or two.

  “What face do you see, Sir Matthew?” Elizabeth enquired at last. The older man smiled at her.

  “Why the same as you do, I would imagine, my dear Mrs Darcy: a woman who has finally found peace after many centuries of wandering. But of course, it is all nonsense. Fairy stories for children and simple nomads who know no better.”

  “Of course,” Elizabeth agreed.

  Darcy nodded. “Come, Sir Matthew,” he said. “Would you care for a glass of canary?”

  “That would be most kind,” the older gentleman said as his hosts led him down the stairs and out of the gallery, the last of their party following them. Elizabeth waited until all her guests were out of the chamber before gently shutting the door. Just as she did so, she fancied she heard once more the faintest hint of a laugh, much as she had done that afternoon back at the tomb. She smiled.

  “Good night, Aahotep,” she said softly.

  ***

  All too soon, it was the end of the holidays. The Darcys stood in the hall as the carriage was brought round. Beth was looking elegant and graceful, carrying herself with a new maturity. Her hair was dressed in adult style, coiled into a chignon instead of tumbling around her shoulders, and her dress no longer stopped at her calves; it reached the floor. Everything about her showed that she was a young lady and no longer a little girl.