Pride and Pyramids

by Amanda Grange

  “You will not get far,” said Darcy. “You have no camp nearby—”

  “But I do have a boat,” said Wickham, “and soon all these treasures will be travelling with me to Cairo, where I mean to sell them to collectors and set myself up for life—something you should have done years ago, Darcy, for taking that brat of a Bennet off your hands.”

  “That is no way to talk of your wife,” said Darcy.

  “No? Well, perhaps when I have a fine house and enough money to buy myself time away from her I will not speak of her that way. Perhaps, the next time we meet, I will say she is the most charming woman on earth. Until then, I will bid you adieu.”

  And with that he turned on his heel and walked away, out of the flickering red light and into the blackness beyond.

  “You cannot leave us here!” called Paul after him. “We cannot stay here all night; we have women with us! Return the planks at least, so that we might cross the moat.”

  But there was no reply.

  Chapter 15

  The sound of Wickham’s footsteps faded down the tunnel, leaving the five adventurers in stunned silence. The light from their torches was growing gradually dimmer.

  “How could you not have told me?” Darcy said with too-quiet calm to Edward, who was still staring at the tunnel mouth sullenly.

  “I did not think…”

  “No, cousin, you certainly did not. You should have told me immediately. Quite apart from the danger you have put us in, you have brought dishonour to our family.”

  “What is done is done,” Elizabeth said. “Let us begin to think practically. We cannot expect any help from our guards, who have either been tricked or bribed into leaving us, but we will be rescued eventually when the others back at the camp realise we have not returned. It will take some time and so we should think about preserving the light. I do not relish the thought of languishing here in pitch darkness. And we must see how much water we all have.”

  Since they had not expected to be imprisoned in the tomb, their torches—wooden sticks with rags soaked in oil—were small and light. They were not meant to last for long. Reluctantly they agreed to extinguish all but one, and although no one said anything, they were all thinking the same thought. What would happen when the last torch was used up? The tomb, which had seemed like an exotic fairyland of sparkling jewels and priceless treasures a short while ago, was now revealed to be a sinister repository for the dead. Elizabeth felt her spirits sink. Her thin muslin dress, so practical in the heat of the desert, was no protection against the dampness of the tomb. She could almost feel the Nile waters seeping into her bones. Seated beside her, Darcy felt her trembling and removed his jacket.

  “Here,” he said, placing it round her shoulders. “Help will soon arrive, my love.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “What o’clock is it?” she asked, and he consulted his pocket watch.

  “Nearly twelve.”

  “We started early. How soon will it be before we are missed, do you suppose?”

  Darcy hesitated. The days were still long and he doubted anyone would begin to concern themselves before early evening. Taking another look at the pitifully small torch, he took a deep breath.

  “Very soon. Have no fear, Elizabeth. We will be outside in no time.”

  Elizabeth sighed. “I am sure you are right. Only what are we to do until then?”

  “We should look for another way out,” said Darcy. “Edward, you have made a study of Egyptian tombs. Do you think there might be another entrance?”

  “It is possible. Sometimes the workmen created another exit, one which could be used to secretly remove the treasures after the tomb was sealed.”

  “And if not, we might come across something we can use to make another bridge,” said Paul.

  “A good idea,” said Darcy. “I do not relish the thought of just sitting here for hours.”

  “Neither do I,” said Sophie, glancing apprehensively at the flickering shadows that danced in black corners, making the painted faces on the friezes leer and grin.

  Darcy picked up the torch and led them through the main chamber, where the treasures of the tomb had been piled up but were now depleted. He moved slowly, aware that he was carrying the only light they had. He picked his way past caskets and chests toward the back of the chamber until they had reached the wall of the cave.

  “One moment, if you please, Mr Darcy,” said Paul, his eyes lighting on a new frieze that had been painted onto the wall. “This is unusual. I do not think I’ve seen this style before.”

  Darcy held the torch up and they looked at the drawing. Paul was right; the painting was not like the other richly coloured ceremonial pictures which described the progress of two high status Egyptians into heaven, but was altogether more businesslike. The pigments were brown and red and seemed to be concerned mainly with two characters. One figure was twice the height of the other, a man with a crook and a flail in his hands. The other figure, depicted several times, always kneeling and in thrall to the first, was a woman, her beauty still clear for all to see but now less terrible than the many other representations they had seen of her.

  “Aahotep!” Elizabeth breathed.

  The likeness to the first time they had come across her painting back at the British Museum was unmistakable. She even seemed similar to the little doll Margaret had carried everywhere. But now the expression on Aahotep’s face was no longer proud and vengeful. The woman in these paintings looked frightened and humbled and even a little tired.

  “It seems she has been made to pay for her sins,” said Sophie.

  “The artistry is fascinating,” Paul added, handing his sketchbook to Sophie so that he could trace the painting with his fingers. “She seems genuinely terrified of this character.”

  They all looked at the stern features of the man leaning down over Aahotep.

  “What was it Sir Matthew said?” Darcy continued. “Aahotep was doomed by the magician Ptah to walk the earth until she had learned the error of her ways and made amends. This must be Ptah.”

  Edward nodded. “It makes sense. See here, he’s surrounded by the head of an ibis, representing Thoth, the god of wisdom; the feather of Ma’at, goddess of justice; and the crown of Isis, who represents magic.”

  “Wisdom, justice, and magic,” Darcy repeated. “It seems that Ptah has used all three to sentence Aahotep.”

  “And these symbols here,” said Paul, pointing to the crook and flail the magician held. “They are usually carried by Osiris, the god of the dead.”

  “Aahotep must find a way to make amends,” said Edward, almost in a trance.

  He bent down, but Sophie was there before him as something gold caught their eyes. She bent down to pick up something which proved to be a necklace.

  “How odd,” she said. “It is the same necklace as the one round Aahotep’s neck in the picture. I have never seen anything quite like it.”

  Elizabeth shivered as an eerie feeling washed over her. Darcy put his arm round her instinctively, just as a terrifying crack rent the air and the ground seemed to open up beneath her. Darcy pulled her back from the brink, but Sophie was not so lucky.

  “Sophie!” Elizabeth cried, as Sophie teetered on the edge, her face a mask of horror.

  Sophie swayed for a moment as she tried to regain her balance, and it seemed she would do so, but then she fell, throwing up the sketchbook and necklace as she reached for the sides of the pit.

  Paul and Edward both lunged forward.

  Paul threw himself at his sketchbook while Edward threw himself at Sophie, falling at full length on the ground in his effort to catch her as he let the necklace fall into the pit.

  “I have you,” said Edward as he looked into her panic-stricken eyes with his own suddenly clear ones. “You are safe. I will not let you go.”

  “My f
ingers are slipping,” she said.

  “Give me your other hand,” he urged, reaching out for it.

  But even as he spoke, her fingers slipped through his grip, and he could only watch in anguish as she hurtled down into the pit and landed with a sickening thud at the bottom.

  “Noooooo!” cried Edward.

  “Sophie!” Elizabeth called in horror. “Sophie, are you all right?”

  She knelt beside Edward as Darcy thrust the torch downward to illuminate the pit. The dancing light revealed Sophie’s face, now an unhealthy white in the weak illumination of the torch. Her eyes were closed and she made no reply.

  “Sophie!” Edward shouted.

  “Please, speak to us!” cried Elizabeth.

  Slowly Sophie’s eyes flickered open. She groaned and began to struggle to sit up, but then cried out with pain and sank back down again.

  “Lie still, Sophie. I will soon be with you,” said Edward, before pulling back and sitting up then rising to his feet.

  “That pit is at least twelve feet down,” Darcy said quietly. “It is a miracle she is still alive. The sides are smooth and without any footholds. I don’t see how we can get down there, let alone bring her up.”

  “I am going down,” said Edward in a tone that brooked no dissent. “I brought this upon her and I am not going to leave the woman I love alone in that hellish pit.”

  “So, you love her,” said Darcy.

  “Yes, I do, and when we get out of this situation I mean to ask her to be my wife.” Adding under his breath, “If she will have me, which after today’s misadventure I very much doubt.”

  Quickly he retrieved three of the remaining torches from their original resting place near the entrance to the tomb and returned to the pit, lighting them from their one glowing torch and handing them to Paul and Elizabeth.

  “I was wrong about there being no footholds,” said Darcy, taking advantage of the better light as he peered down into the pit. “If you look carefully, you can see there are some stones sticking out around the wall. I will hold onto you for as long as I can. When you are at the bottom, I will throw a torch down to you.”

  Edward nodded and began to inch his way tentatively downward. Elizabeth held the torch as near to him as she could in order to give him as much help as possible in seeing stones to balance on and crevices in which to slide his feet, while Darcy took a firm grip on his shirt.

  “Be brave, Sophie,” Elizabeth shouted as Edward cautiously descended. “You will soon have company.” But this time there was no answering call, and she and Darcy exchanged worried glances.

  There was a frightening moment when Edward slipped, but at the last minute he managed to regain a foothold. He jumped the last few feet and they heard the echoey thump of his boots on the packed earth before seeing him gather Sophie into his arms. He pulled her closer and as he kissed her, Elizabeth nudged Darcy’s hand so that the torch no longer shone on the young couple.

  “If you see Edward kissing her, you will have to speak to him sternly about it,” she said. “They are not yet betrothed.”

  “But if I do not see it?”

  “Then you will not have to object!”

  Then Sophie’s weak voice could be heard as it echoed round the walls, saying, “You ignored the necklace. You saved me!”

  “And you saved me. When you fell, it cut through the strange obsession which has gripped me these past few months. I knew I did not care if I never saw another tomb again, but I could not live without you. Sophie, this is neither the time nor the place, but I cannot wait any longer. Will you marry me?”

  And around the walls reverberated the echo, “Yes… yes… yes.”

  Elizabeth glanced at Paul, and for a moment he looked downcast, but then a look of calm dawned on his face and Elizabeth thought, He loves her but he loves his art more, and now he realises it and he has accepted it.

  After giving the newly engaged couple a little more time, Darcy called down, “Are you ready for the torch, Edward?”

  “Yes, cousin.”

  Darcy threw the torch down and they saw Edward hurry to pick it up before it was completely extinguished. In the flare of light from the pit they saw that Edward was now examining her.

  “How badly is she hurt?” called Elizabeth.

  “I cannot tell in this gloom. I think her arm may be broken,” said Edward. “We must get her out of here as quickly as possible. I will look around down here and see if there is anything that will help, a piece of rope perhaps or something similar.”

  His torch began to move, and suddenly they heard him give an exclamation.

  “Good lord!” he said. “There is something down here. Can you see this?” He moved the torch until it lit something large and made of gold. “It is a small sarcophagus. And lying on top of it… the necklace. Almost as if it led us here,” he added musingly.

  “Were the Egyptian dead not often buried with objects that would be useful to them in the afterlife?” asked Elizabeth. “Perhaps there will be something in the sarcophagus we can use.”

  “It is worth a try,” said Edward as he knelt and examined the gold box. “There are no carvings of any kind on it and the lid is far heavier than I would have expected. I cannot remove it—hello, what’s this?” He sat back on his heels. “Really, I can hardly—”

  “What is it, Edward?” Elizabeth shouted impatiently.

  “The sarcophagus,” breathed Edward. “The markings on the lid are quite clear. This is the sarcophagus of Aahotep.”

  ***

  Back at the camp, Mrs Bennet sat beside Sir Matthew’s bedside with a cloth in her hand.

  “…and as soon as Mr Bingley moved into the neighbourhood, I knew he would end up marrying one of my girls, for as I said to Mr Bennet—”

  “Grandmama,” protested Beth, trying to halt Mrs Bennet’s endless flow of words.

  But Mrs Bennet was enjoying herself and ignored her.

  “‘Jane cannot be so beautiful for nothing.’ And so it proved, for…”

  Beth gave up and took the cloth out of her grandmama’s hand so that she could bathe Sir Matthew’s head, while outside, she heard William speaking in a dignified voice to Saeed. He, like Beth, had taken quiet charge when Mrs Bennet had proved to be unequal to the task. And while the younger children played, they helped Saeed restore some calm to the camp.

  But as the day progressed, Beth was painfully aware how inadequate her actions were. Sir Matthew occasionally roused himself and apologised for inconveniencing her, but he was getting worse and there was little she could do. Mrs Bennet, tiring of the sickroom, retired to her tent with her nerves, so that Beth hoped her parents would be back soon.

  As she sat and pondered, Saeed entered the tent. To her relief, Beth saw that he was accompanied by a new arrival, the camp physician.

  “Here is Mr Knight,” said Saeed as the physician took in the situation at a glance.

  “Well, well, young lady, and so you are the nurse? And doing a very good job, I see. If I can just…” Mr Knight made a quick examination of Sir Matthew and then smiled reassuringly at Beth. “We’ll have him up and about again in no time, you just leave him to me. Now you go off and play, my dear, or whatever it is young ladies like to do.” He smiled kindly at her and Beth gladly gave up her place at Sir Matthew’s side, going out of the tent and looking for William so that she could give him the news.

  But when she found him, she found that her troubles, far from being over, were only just beginning.

  “Have you seen Meg?” he asked.

  “No. Why?” asked Beth.

  “Because she seems to be missing.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Beth. “Is she not with her nurse?”

  “No. She complained of a headache and her nurse took her to rest in her tent, but when Laurence and Ja
ne wanted to play with her, having been set free by their tutors for an hour, they could not find her. They called John to help them but he could not find any trace of her either.”

  They exchanged worried glances as Saeed joined them. There was a small commotion by the girls’ tent. Margaret’s nursemaid, Jenny, was in tears.

  “I swear I don’t know what happened, miss. One minute she was sleeping like an angel and I only popped out for a moment, and when I returned I couldn’t find her anywhere.”

  As Beth tried to calm her down and make sense of what she was saying, Saeed glanced over at the fellahs congregating nearby, their murmurings unquiet.

  “Please excuse me one moment, Miss Darcy,” he said and walked over to them.

  Beth nodded distractedly as William and John appeared with Laurence and Jane.

  “It’s no good; we can’t find her anywhere,” Laurence said.

  “When do you last remember seeing her?” Beth asked, her mind whirling with this new problem on top of Sir Matthew and the fellahs.

  “Not since breakfast,” said John.

  Beth noticed Jane’s expression and said, “What is it?”

  “I think Aahotep’s been talking to her again,” Jane said.

  “What do you mean?” asked Beth.

  “I know it’s silly, but Meg thinks that horrid doll talks to her and whenever she does, Meg goes all red and hardly speaks to anyone. She’s been all right for the past few days, but a few hours ago she started acting strange, and she was carrying her doll again. And just before I saw her last, she was arguing with the horrid thing and saying she didn’t like the tomb because it smelled, but I think that’s where she’s gone.”

  From behind John’s arm, Laurence seemed about to make some rude remark about girls and their dolls, before he was wrestled away by his older brother.