“You make it sound fascinating,” Elizabeth remarked, somewhat enthralled herself.

“Edward has a lively imagination,” Darcy said. “But he neglects to add that both my father and his nearly died on their trip. They, too, had hoped to find treasure, but they failed to find anything at all, despite owning a map they swore had been bequeathed to them by an adventurer they found dying in the desert. They came home with their health broken and their spirits in decline. Like most adventurers’ tales, it is more romantic in the telling than in the experience.”

“I should love to go there,” declared John, his eyes shining with excitement. “I shall go there one day at the head of an army and we will find a tomb that no one has ever discovered before and bring back lots of jewels for you, Mama.”

“Thank you, darling,” said Elizabeth fondly.

“You must give me the chance to find it first, John,” Edward said, patting the boy’s head. “It will never do if you steal my thunder. Now, who wants some more sweetmeats?”

As Edward laughingly produced enough sweetmeats for the entire household and began giving them to Beth, William, and John, Elizabeth looked around for the youngest members of the family.

“Where are the other children?”

“Probably ran out into the garden when they heard I was about to bore you all with my stories of Egypt,” said Edward. “And now, Darcy, you must show me the new phaeton you were thinking of purchasing on my last trip here…”

***

Laurence put his finger to his lips, admonishing his sister Jane to silence. The two children were not in fact in the garden, but on the landing.

Well used to obeying his commands in the pursuit of mischief, Jane nodded.

Both children waited with a patience that would have astonished their loving but resigned parents. They remained perfectly still in their hiding place, an alcove, while the servants deposited Edward’s luggage in the room he habitually occupied when staying with the Darcys.

It was not his portmanteau, however, that interested them. They were hoping to see more of the battered leather bag, which contained all the most important documents and artefacts that he had collected in Egypt, and from which they were both banned on account of past transgressions.

They did not have long to wait. Soon Edward’s valet appeared, holding the valise. He entered the room and after a few moments reappeared empty-handed, continuing on down toward the back stairs and the servants’ quarters.

When all was clear, Laurence took his sister’s hand and led her quietly along to their cousin’s private room, where they peeped inside. Reassured that there was no one else present, they went in.

“There it is, Jane,” Laurence said, pointing to the familiar brown bag on a handsome walnut pedestal desk by the window. “You stand guard in case anyone comes.”

Jane pouted. “No. I want to see as well.” Although younger than her brother, Jane was his equal in obstinacy. She followed him to the desk and they both looked at the bag for a moment before opening it.

They peered inside, staring in wonder at the objects within. They had intended only to look, but a ray of sunshine suddenly escaped from the covering of cloud and shone through the window. It fell upon a figurine partially encased in a soft chamois cloth. It was decorated in tiny specks of coloured glass and lit up in front of them, dazzling them with its beauty, sparkling like a treasure from the cave of Ali Baba, their favourite nursery story of the moment.

Laurence picked it up, for once taking the utmost caution, and they both examined the figurine. It was a wooden statue of a slim, lovely young woman with a heart-shaped face and eyes that were elongated in the classic Egyptian fashion with kohl. The top was a carved headdress that appeared to be in the shape of a snake.

“It’s beautiful,” whispered Jane in awe.

She reached out to touch a necklace of sea green around the throat of the woman. The stones were cool to the touch and her little fingers explored the rest of the statuette eagerly.

“Let me see,” Laurence demanded, grabbing the head.

“No!” Jane hissed, her usually sweet face flushed an unbecoming red. They might have continued to fight had not a voice at the door interrupted them.

“Papa forbade you to touch Cousin Edward’s bag.”

Both children turned in surprise. They had been so engrossed in the figurine that they had failed to hear any noise from the hall.

Margaret stood in the doorway, watching her brother and sister struggle for ownership of the statuette.

“We’re not doing anything,” Laurence said defensively and also mendaciously.

“Yes you are. You’re fighting over Cousin Edward’s doll.”

The word “doll” had a startling effect on Laurence. He stopped trying to wrest the little figure from his sister, nearly causing her to drop it.

“I’m not interested in any stupid doll,” he said, suddenly aware of his dignity as a nine-year-old boy. “In fact there’s nothing very interesting in here at all. I’m going to go down to the pond and see if the frogs are out yet.”

He ran out of the door and Jane followed automatically. Then she hesitated a second and looked back at the figurine in puzzlement, before shrugging her shoulders and following her brother. With a noisy clattering down the stairs, they were gone.

Margaret stayed where she was. For a moment she examined the little figurine from a distance; then slowly, almost dreamily, she entered the room and reached up to take the object in her hands. She smiled at the doll and then, humming a little song, picked up the chamois cloth and began to polish its jewels.

***

It was some half an hour later when Darcy held out a brandy glass to Edward. The children had all disappeared and Elizabeth had gone to speak to the housekeeper, leaving the gentlemen in possession of the drawing room.

“Your good health, Cousin. And now that you’ve admired my phaeton, expressed delight over Elizabeth’s garden, and enchanted my children, perhaps you should tell me more about your reason for being in London,” Darcy said.

“I am afraid you will disapprove,” said Edward with a rueful shake of the head.

“Does it have anything to do with Sir Matthew Rosen?” asked Darcy, as he took a seat and stretched his long legs out in front of him. He took a sip of brandy. “Sir Matthew has written some very interesting articles for The Times recently, and I hear he is trying to find more patrons for his Egyptian dig. In fact, I believe he is even willing to allow some enthusiasts to join his party—for a consideration, of course.”

Edward took a drink of brandy.

“I knew you would not approve,” he said.

“Perhaps not understand is closer to the mark. If you want to go then I cannot stop you, but think carefully before you commit yourself. Egypt is a long way from home if you change your mind.”

He was fond of Edward. More than fifteen years Edward’s senior, he felt like more of an uncle toward the young man than a cousin and he remembered Edward’s many boyhood enthusiasms with affection. They had come and gone like the will-o-the-wisp, full of movement and colour, but with the same ephemeral lifespan.

With the one exception of Egypt. Ever since he was five, when he had first heard his father talking about his trip to Egypt with Darcy’s father, Edward had been enthralled by the very mention of the place, and this was despite the fact that both men had returned from their ill-fated adventure being poorer and also worryingly ill with strange diseases.

Elizabeth was right, thought Darcy; enthral is a good word. It is as though they are bewitched by the place. Edward has never even been, and yet his eyes light up at the thought of it.

“Luncheon will be ready shortly,” Elizabeth announced, walking into the room.

“I was just asking Edward what his plans are while he is in London,” Darcy said as he got up and poured her a glass of ratafia.

“Tell us all about it,” Elizabeth said, spreading the skirt of her white lawn empire dress on the chaise longue. She took the drink and savoured it. “I take it you will be visiting the Egyptian exhibition at the British Museum? I do hope so. I have wanted to go there for some time. We could all go together; it would be good for the children. Darcy is always worrying about the children’s education,” she said teasingly.

Darcy took the teasing in good part, having become accustomed to it in the years of his marriage.

“By all means,” he replied. “It would be interesting. The children have never seen the Egyptian exhibits and I think the older children in particular will be interested to see the Rosetta Stone. Did you not acquire some prints of the Stone, Edward? I seem to remember you thinking you might be able to decipher the hieroglyphs.”

Edward laughed.

“You are quite right,” he said. “I was so excited by news of the discovery that I set to work right away, alas to no avail. It seemed as if it would be so easy, the Stone having the same message written in three different languages, one of them being the hieroglyphic language. But even understanding the other two languages was no help. Messages written in letters are one thing; messages recorded in pictures are quite another.”

“There is no shame in having failed,” said Darcy. “Better…” He stopped suddenly.

“Better minds than mine have tried and failed?” asked Edward.

“I was not going to say that,” said Darcy.

Elizabeth and Edward both gave him a disbelieving look and he laughed. “Very well, I was. I would like to see it again,” he mused. “I have not been to the Egyptian rooms for several years. When do you intend to go?”