Julia plucked at a feather sticking to her sleeve. “You have to come. I’ve already told them you were my traveling companion.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have done that without talking to me first.”
“But I already have done it. How can I tell them now you’re not who I said you were?”
“Look, I don’t know. See? This, Lady Julia, is why people shouldn’t lie.”
“How dare you! Are you accusing me of lying?”
Ella felt exhausted just talking with this creature. Perhaps she should give in and agree to come and then sneak out in the morning. It had been a long, over-stimulating day and she really needed to just fall into bed and sleep if she could turn her brain off long enough to do it.
“Look, Julia,” she said, with resignation weighing down her shoulders with every word. “I’ll go. Just let me please sleep now. Okay?”
Julia held up her hand with her finger and thumb making the symbol of the letter O. “O-kay,” she said, happily.
The next morning, Ella slept late. Any chance of slipping out of the hotel had evaporated hours earlier. When she opened her eyes, she saw a hotel maid approaching with a large breakfast tray which she placed on the bed. Ella pulled herself to a sitting position while the maid poured her a steaming cup of tea and, without asking, added milk and sugar. She dropped a small linen napkin across the covers in front of Ella and then went to the bathroom where Ella soon heard water running.
Someone had pulled the long sheer window curtains back and the sun was streaming into the room creating rectangles of gold across the coral Isfahan rug on the floor. The bed itself was encircled with a fine white mosquito netting that seemed to give the scene outside the bed a soft-focus glow. Ella found herself strangely content. She nestled back into her pillows and lifted a silver dome on her tray to reveal four savory sausages. The aroma of lavender mixed with cardamom was exquisite. Removing the lid of the other plate revealed a soft-boiled egg perched in a small ceramic cup. A silver spoon was tucked prettily on the saucer.
Wow. It’s good to be rich in the 1920’s, Ella thought as she took the first restorative sip of the hot tea. Maybe the expedition to Luxor wouldn’t be quite as rough as she’s imagined—not that fear of sleeping primitively was the reason she knew she couldn’t go. She glanced out the window at the beginning of what looked like a truly gorgeous summer day. She reminded herself that she couldn’t go because she had to get back to Dothan. And Rowan. She cut into one of the sausages and chewed it while surveying the room. Even the walls were dressed in silk, she thought in wonder. The furniture had well-appointed, clean lines. Ella knew little to nothing about antiques but these chairs and dressers were a pleasure to the eye—even her nondiscerning eye.
“Oh, my dear! Still in bed?” Julia swung open the door and swept into the room. She was holding a large dress box. “I had to order a few things for you since you can hardly continue to wear my clothes. I never felt so huge before I had to watch you drown in all my frocks. I have to say I envy you, Ella. Do you mind if I call you that? I would love to be diminutive and petite. Women like you are what the romance book sheiks are always lifting effortlessly up onto their Arabian ponies before galloping off into the Egyptian night.”
“Funny,” Ella said, cracking the top off her egg. “You don’t strike me as the kind of woman who reads romance novels.”
“Oh? Well, I suppose not. My sisters and I did sneak one or two into the nursery, I admit. Oh, do hurry, Ella. Your bath will be ice by now and Mr. Carter is literally holding the dahabiya as we speak.”
“The dabi-what?”
“The boat, dearest. Didn’t I mention? We’ll travel to Luxor down the Nile. But you must hurry.” Julia came over to the bed and picked up a triangle of buttered toast. She took a small bite and dropped it back onto the tray. “I am so glad you’ve changed your mind. I cannot tell you what a godsend this is to me.”
“Okay,” Ella whispered. “Just as long as you know we’re not getting rid of anyone.”
Julia gave her a look, one that Ella found disconcertingly difficult to read. “Of course not. I’m just grateful to have a friend,” Julia said.
As they neared the docks where the boats were waiting, the confusion and noise grew increasingly unpleasant. The French Director of Antiquities, Monsieur Maspero, was standing dockside speaking with Carter. He bowed over Julia’s hand and nodded pleasantly to Ella. Ella wore a pale blue gingham skirt with a pleated undershirt and wide lacy cuffs. Something itched her desperately underneath it all and she was already exhausted from lugging the heavy garment across her shoulders and hips—the undergarments alone weighed more than what she usually wore back home. The heat at this time of day was punishing. Her face reddened and was damp with perspiration as she walked onto the dock.
Named Satiah, the dahabiya had several cabins on the main deck, joined by one large salon and all under one single roof. With a canopy and deck chairs, the upper deck became a comfortable open-air living room. The kitchen and engine were below deck where the crew lived.
The dahabiya was flat-bottomed and had two masts. Looking at the other boats on the river, Ella had to admit they were a stunning sight in full sail. She decided they were fairly clean, too, even by 2013 standards. She and Julia would share a large carpeted stateroom attached to a hallway which led to the communal salon and also to stairs to the sundeck. The exterior wall of the room had six long windows with linen curtains trimmed in gold. There was also a formal dining room, which meant they would dine as a group each night.
It would take three full days to reach Luxor, the docking point for the excavation site—longer if the wind lulled. From there, they would switch to a horse-drawn carriage for the last mile to the dig site.
Feeling infected with a sense of excitement at the beginning of this adventure, Ella stood at the railing next to Julia. They both wore wide hats against the punishing sun and watched the Egyptian dockworkers untie the mooring ropes and push the boat away from the bank. When the largest sail swelled with the wind, the dahabiya moved swiftly away from the dock and began its journey down the river.
The sun was high but the breeze was gentle and cooling on the top deck where both Julia and Ella had retreated. From this vantage point they could see palaces and gardens—one right after another like scenes from Arabian Nights, stream past their boat. For the first time since her arrival in Egypt, Ella saw the pyramids in the distance, and actually clapped her hands when they came into view.
Julia looked at her with amusement. “Your valet didn’t take you to the pyramids to steal kisses in the dark?”
Ella ignored her. Without having an inkling that she would feel this way, she found herself exuberant in her expectation of joy and delight at each new sight. The breeze forced her to keep one hand on her hat to keep it from cartwheeling into the river.
As soon as the last vestiges of the city disappeared around the last bend, Julia retired to her chamber for a nap but Ella stayed on the top deck under the harsh sun. She was enjoying every magical minute of her adventure. The dragoman that Digby had hired in Cairo, a Copt named William, came up to erect a huge umbrella over one of the deck chairs. And it was there that Ella remained quite happily. Except for two very welcome trays of hot tea and little cakes delivered to her by William, she was undisturbed until dinnertime.
The Nile stretched before her like a winding green ribbon, edged on both sides by reed-filled shores. Once, Ella saw a large log morph into a crocodile as it slid from the bank into the opaque waters. She wished she had her cellphone to videotape the event.
That evening, after Julia had climbed up the stairs to tell Ella she must dress for dinner, Ella bathed and put on a silk brocade gown she would have thought too dressy to wear to a royal wedding let alone a trip on a riverboat. Julia was appalled at how much sun Ella had allowed on her face.
“I know you’re American, but really,” she said as she helped Ella into her gown. “Do you just not even care if men find you
attractive?”
The dining room was elegant but basic. It afforded a wonderful view of the sun setting in the western sky. Ella had not seen Digby all day and for that she was grateful. He and Carter were again in evening dress and Ella imagined that the two could easily have spent hours dressing and polishing and fiddling with the proper cuff links. She tried to imagine Rowan in this world. Her rough and ready Rowan, who rolled out of bed and hit the shower and was on the road before Ella had even put the toast down for her breakfast. She smiled while fondly thinking of him. No, this was probably not the ideal century for her cowboy marshal, she thought. It was too slow and deliberate. Although, now that she thought of it, he did have his moments…
“Penny for your thoughts, Miss Stevens?” Digby was leering at her from across the table and Ella found her mood come flying solidly back down to earth.
“I say, I think I’ve flustered your traveling companion, my dear,” he said to his wife. “Now you must tell me what you were thinking of.”
God, what an ass he is, Ella thought, trying to camouflage her thoughts from appearing on her face. How could Julia ever have thought him charming?
“We can’t be too delicate, ladies,” Digby said. “We are going to be roughing it as soon as we land. Imagine! Sleeping every night in the ancient city of Thebes. It’s enough to give you goose pimples, eh, Miss Stevens?”
Digby leaned over and gently pinched Ella’s arm. And although she was covered by a long sleeve blouse, she felt the spot burn on her elbow where he had touched her. She forced a smile. “Very exciting,” she muttered.
“But not to worry. You will, of course, have all your needs attended to.” Digby poured himself another tot of brandy. “It may not be quite the level of service you are used to, my dear,” he said, addressing Julia. “But I’ll wager my man Abdullah is worth two of your average footmen—even as he is Arab and all.”
In addition to the dragoman William, who translated for the party when necessary and served as pseudo butler, Digby had hired a bodyguard in Cairo named Abdullah—a sour, mean-faced ferret of a man with glittering black eyes. He carried a wicked, curved knife clearly visible to all.
Ella couldn’t help but wonder why Digby felt he needed a personal bodyguard.
Chapter Nine
The Nile River 1922
They ran aground three times in as many days which caused general alarm but tended to be a fairly easy fix, as far as Ella could tell, with the crew scurrying around jamming huge poles into the sand banks to spring the boat free.
She loved to listen to the singing of the crew as they worked. They often sang and she found the melodies reassuring. She hoped it meant they enjoyed their work and didn’t feel too badly oppressed. Because the Nile ran from south to north, the trip was upstream against the current, making consistent progress depend more and more on the efforts of the crew rather than the wind. The Satiah’s captain, a taciturn, dark Egyptian named Ahmed, often commanded his men to strap themselves to the boat and hand row the dahabiya when it slowed noticeably.
One afternoon, watching the men sweat and strain as if they were slaves in a wheelhouse, Ella asked, “Are we in a hurry?”
“Mr. Carter is anxious to return to his excavation site.” Julia said. “If Lord Carnarvon hadn’t asked him to escort us, he would never have left. His work is very important.”
“And why, again, is it we are going there?”
Julia put down the pencil she was using to sketch with and squinted against the sun from her lounge on the top deck. As usual, the two women were alone.
“My husband believes that Mr. Carter is very close to making a big discovery.”
“And he wants in on it?”
“It will be the making of anyone attached to the find. When it happens.”
“Well, why are you going there, then?”
“I told you.” Julia looked uneasily over the banister at the stairs. “I want the adventure.”
“Okay, that’s just hard to believe, Julia. Excuse me for saying so. You hate the sun. You despise the bugs. You can’t bear to have any of the Egyptians actually touch you.”
“Well, none of that is true,” Julia said but she looked unsure as if she had not seen herself that way until this moment. “I am very plucky, I’ll have you know.”
“If you say so.” Neither spoke for a moment. A stillness descended on the boat broken only by the soft sounds of the crew’s singing below. There was a pleasant breeze on the deck. Ella turned her face up to the sun.
“You’ll freckle,” Julia warned.
“What is it you are drawing?”
Julia turned her sketchpad so that Ella could see a depiction of the riverbank with palm trees and the suggestion of a village on the horizon. The lines were clean and confident, the representation true.
“You’re good, Julia,” Ella said. “You know, Howard said he started out on his first archaeological excavation as an artist. Maybe that’s something you could do when we get to his camp.”
“I cannot believe you call him Howard. Really, Ella! And I’m not looking for employment, thank you.”
Digby materialized from the top rung of the ladder, spoke loudly and pointed over the women’s heads. “You can see the temples of the Eighteenth Dynasty just there.” Ella noticed that Julia jumped violently at the sound of his voice.
“Will we be stopping to see them?” Ella asked, shading her eyes and looking in the direction he had pointed.
“Oh, heavens, no,” Digby said, looking at her and licking his lips. “Carter would pop a gasket at the mere suggestion. As it is, any time now I expect the man to jump out and start pushing.” He laughed at his own wit.
Earlier that morning Ella had caught a glimpse of Digby and Julia whispering behind the bulkhead. It didn’t look like a pleasant conversation and Ella could see Digby’s hand gripping Julia’s arm tight enough to leave finger marks that were still visible moments later. Ella found herself thinking even an unhappy conversation, surely, was better than no contact at all.
“Well, I’m sure he’s anxious to get back to work,” Ella said. She was glad they were not going to stop. Tombs and temples sounded boring and dusty. She looked at Julia to see her reaction but Julia had buried herself in her drawing, refusing to look up.
Dinner was a delicious roast chicken with crispy potatoes and canned peas. As this was their last night before they landed at Luxor, both Digby and Carter had urged the two women to join them on the upper deck after dinner. While the men smoked their cigars and sipped their brandies, Julia and Ella, both tucked into warm woolen wraps, drank sherry and listened to the men talk.
The Milky Way stretched brightly and clearly across the sky. Ella had never seen a night sky so stunning. In US cities, she had become so used to the smoggy southern nights that blocked out the stars that she felt like she was seeing the celestial display for the first time. No wonder people write poems about the stars in the sky, she thought with wonder as she watched them twinkle in the deep blue firmament.
She found herself longing to share the sight with Rowan. Was Carol right? Was she so selfish that she didn’t deserve him? Ella knew she had been thwarted in returning to her own time—and to Rowan—but she also knew, not so deep down, that she hadn’t tried very hard either. She watched the stars and missed him deeply. She had to force from her mind the thought that, in 1922 Rowan yet existed.
William came up with a tray of hot coffee. Earlier that day he had related a story to Ella and Julia that he had heard in one of the villages of grave robbers who were accused of murdering a boatload of Dutch tourists the season before. They robbed the group of their artifacts only to discover that the artifacts were fakes purchased in Alexandria before their trip.
Ella liked William’s stories. He was colorful and animated and spoke English well. She noticed he was careful not to speak to either of the women when Digby was present. Even now, as he handed out the coffee cups, he kept his eyes down as if afraid that Ella might engage him in conv
ersation.
“Mr. Carter,” Julia said, as she waited for her steaming cup of coffee to cool, “what did Monsieur Maspero have to say about your prospects?”
“Don’t be stupid, Julia,” Digby said. “That idiot Maspero wouldn’t know anyone’s prospects from his hairy arse.”
Ella was shocked. In the few days she had lived in 1920’s upper crust society, calling your wife stupid in public and then following it with the phrase hairy arse was about as offensive as you could get.
“I say, steady on, old man,” Carter said, admonishing Digby. “It’s a fair question,” he said to Julia, who had visible blanched at Digby’s assault. Ella was grateful that Carter was trying to cover up the ugliness. She didn’t know what Digby’s problem was, but it was a relief to know Carter wouldn’t stand for it.
“Not to speak ill of the man,” Carter continued, “but he’s not as fussy as I’d prefer him to be in the acquisition of his museum pieces, if you know what I mean.”
“Isn’t he in charge of who digs where in the Valley of the Kings?” Ella asked.
“That’s right,” Carter said, smiling at her indulgently. “But he’s happy to get his museum items—if they’re genuine—from anywhere and from anyone.”
“Is that bad?” Ella asked.
“It is, actually,” Carter said, sipping his brandy. “The problem stems from the fact that when treasure hunters know there is a legitimate place to sell their stolen goods, there is no motivation for them to stop looting the tombs. And there is always damage done when they do it.”
Digby edged closer to Ella. “The Valley of the Kings is full of tombs,” he said, “many as yet undiscovered, but even the discovered ones still have treasures to yield.”
“That is true,” Carter said. “Though the jewels and gold may have been robbed long ago, the occupants were often left undisturbed. There are some who believe that is the true treasure.”
“Mummies!” Ella said.
Journey to the Lost Tomb (Rowan and Ella Book 2) Page 8