Edward paused, and Darcy leaned toward Lord Potheroe.

“I fancy I can see where this is headed,” he said with a smile.

“When her third husband died, Aahotep decided that the handsome young man would be husband number four,” said Edward. “Except that he had plans of his own with a younger, equally beautiful girl. And when Aahotep was spurned by the young man and forced to watch his wedding celebrations, she went mad and poisoned their wine at the feast and laughed with insane glee as the whole wedding party died horrible deaths. Aahotep was the only survivor of the feast, but despite the pharaoh sending his most experienced men to apprehend her, she disappeared along the bank of the Nile and was never seen again. Of course, she was supposed to have been eaten by the crocodiles, although rumours persist to this day that one can see a mad woman fleeing the riverbanks when the moon is full. The two lovers were buried together secretly so that Aahotep cannot disturb them in death as she did in life. Only if she truly repents will she ever find them and be allowed to rest herself. And it is said,” he ended, intoning dramatically, “that if their tomb is ever disturbed by anyone else, the guilty party, alive or dead, shall be struck down by a disease that no doctor can cure.”

“Capital, dear fellow; well done,” Lord Potheroe applauded. “Quite one of the best I have heard in a long time.”

“And now we will leave you, gentlemen,” Elizabeth said, as the servants entered to remove the dessert dishes.

The two ladies stood up and retired to the drawing room, where they discussed the clothes and other necessary items the Darcys would need in Egypt and on their journey.

***

Life was far less exciting for Elizabeth’s parents than it was for Elizabeth as they passed their days in the village of Longbourn. There were no visits to museums and no plans for far-flung journeys. Instead, Mr and Mrs Bennet, having disposed of all their daughters in marriage, spent their days in peace and quiet at Longbourn House. This suited Mr Bennet, who had the calm his nature craved, but it suited Mrs Bennet less well. When she had had five daughters to think about, she had been constantly complaining but nevertheless happy. Now she was simply constantly complaining.

“I think I will walk into Meryton this morning,” she said, as she presided over the breakfast table. She looked around at the empty seats and felt a sense of nostalgia for the days when every chair had been full. “I really ought to pay a visit to Mary.”

Mary, after spending many years at home, had finally married her uncle’s clerk and now lived in simple comfort in Meryton. Although she was the least favourite of her mother’s daughters, she had the advantage of being the nearest, as the others had all settled many miles away.

“A good idea,” said Mr Bennet, who never discouraged his wife from visiting friends or, indeed, from doing anything which would take her out of the house. “You must not let her feel neglected.”

“And then I think I will write to Lydia and invite her to stay. We have not seen her for such a long time, and she is bound to be missing us. Ah! My dear Lydia. How happy she will be to see us again, and how happy we will be to see her and her handsome Wickham.”

“We must not trespass upon their time,” said Mr Bennet, taking a bite of ham.

“It will be no trespass, I am sure,” said Mrs Bennet, as the mail was brought in on a silver salver.

She took the letters and glanced idly at the envelopes, then became more animated.

“A letter from Lizzy!” she said.

This made Mr Bennet look up, for Elizabeth was his favourite daughter.

Mrs Bennet started to read with a complacency reserved for the daughter who had married ten thousand a year and, incidentally, Mr Darcy. But as she read on, she exclaimed in amazement, “Why, Mr Bennet, whatever do you think?”

“I do not know, my dear,” he said with a long-suffering air, “but I am sure you are about to tell me.”

“Lizzy and Darcy are to visit Egypt. Well! What do you think of that?”

Mr Bennet was startled out of his usual imperturbability.

“Egypt?” he asked, and then he quickly settled back into his usual placidity. “Then I must ask them to bring me back some souvenir. Perhaps a map of the Nile or a crocodile tooth or—”

“Why, Mr Bennet, there is no need to ask them to bring back some souvenir. It would be far better for us to go to Egypt with them and buy some souvenirs ourselves. I am sure Lizzy and Darcy would be delighted to have us, and a few months in Egypt would set me up nicely.”

Mr Bennet, however, was no more accommodating than he had been fifteen years before, when Mrs Bennet had desired to go to Brighton. He had refused to countenance a journey then, and he refused now. Having finished his ham and eggs, he remarked that it was impossible and then took refuge behind the latest broadsheet.

Undaunted, Mrs Bennet continued.

“Just think, Mr Bennet! The camels and pyramids, to say nothing of the company—”

“Then, indeed, let us say nothing of it,” Mr Bennet remarked.

But Mrs Bennet was constitutionally unable to say nothing, and in the end her husband was forced to retire to the peace of his library.

Thus deprived of an audience, Mrs Bennet rang for Hill, who provided her with a more appreciative ear, and then carried out her earlier resolves: she must visit Mary at once, and then she must invite Lydia to stay.

***

“Remind me again why am I here with you, my love?” Wickham enquired charmingly as, several days later, he found himself on the steps of Longbourn House.

Lydia fiddled with the slightly grubby ribbon on her bonnet as they waited for the door of her parents’ home to open.

“La! My dear Wickham, you know as well as I do,” she replied, not even bothering to look at him. “We do not have enough money to live on, and we cannot pay the rent on the rooms we took in the hotel. Mama’s letter came just in time to save us from another midnight exit. But now our problems are solved, at least for a week or two—longer, if you behave yourself. Be charming to Mama and polite to Papa, and they may let us stay a month.”

“I will do my best.”

He kissed her blithely on the neck, careless of the servant who might appear at any second to allow them admission to the house. Lydia could not help but smile, for Wickham was still very handsome, whether he wore his blue or his red coat, and she could never resist his embraces, however lightly given.

“La! Here is Hill,” she declared, as the Bennets’ long-serving, and long-suffering, servant opened the door. “Hill, is it not the greatest fun? What a lark to find myself at home again!”

Mrs Bennet hurried into the hall to greet her.

“Lydia! My Lydia! Why, how well you look. And Wickham, how handsome!”

Wickham bowed charmingly and kissed her hand.

“But come in! Come in!”

She ushered them into the drawing room, from which Mr Bennet had made a hasty retreat, and tea was immediately served.

There was plenty of news to relate, but Mrs Bennet could wait for very little of it and launched almost immediately into a story of how she was ill used, how no one considered her nerves, and how Elizabeth and Darcy were to go to Egypt!

“Egypt!” Lydia’s somewhat weary eyes lit up. “La! Mama, how exciting. I would love to go.”

She had a momentary vision of a palm-fringed watering hole, complete with picturesque camels and a host of young and gay people; and, to complete the view, she saw herself seated beneath a canopy, flirting with at least six sheikhs at once. For although she had been married for fourteen years, Lydia was barely thirty.

“My dear, do not mention such a thing, even in jest,” said her mother. “It plays havoc with my nerves, for your papa has sworn I shall not go. I cannot see why not, for even Sophie Lucas has been invited.”

“Sophie?” asked Lydia, startled and annoyed.

“Elizabeth proposes to take her.”

“I do not see why she should take Sophie Lucas,” said Lydia.

“Ah, my dear,” said Mrs Bennet with a sigh, “neither do I, but Sophie has persuaded her to it, I have no doubt. The Lucases have always been artful. I remember when Charlotte Lucas stole Mr Collins away from beneath my nose, when everyone knew he was promised to Lizzy.”

Lydia took no notice of this comment but replied, “Lizzy ought to have taken me,” for she was feeling very much as Kitty had felt when Lydia had gone to Brighton and she had been left behind.

“I daresay she ought, but Lizzy has always been headstrong. She is going with Darcy’s cousin, Edward Fitzwilliam—”

“Edward?” Lydia’s face broke into a smile. “Oh, how I long to see him again. We met him at a ball given in the assembly rooms in Bath. He was forever flirting with me.”

“I am not surprised,” said Mrs Bennet. “You have always looked well, Lydia. And now he has given Lizzy and Darcy the idea of going to Egypt. If only I could go to Egypt! But your father will not hear of it. I have told him it will do wonders for my nerves, but no one ever thinks of me. If only your father was more like Mr Darcy’s father and Edward’s father.”

“Pray, what do their fathers have to do with this?” asked Lydia impatiently.

“They travelled to Egypt in their youth,” said Mrs Bennet. “Lizzy told me all about it in her letter. Stay, I have it here.” She read out the relevant section, adding, “I would like to travel to Egypt while I still have mine.”

“Do they say where they intend to go in Egypt, Mrs Bennet?” Wickham asked with careless charm.

“Down the Nile somewhere, I believe,” she said. “There is some talk of them joining an archaeological expedition with Sir Matthew Rosen, a most distinguished gentleman and scholar at the British Museum. Lizzy says he is very keen to take them and that Edward has already proved to be of invaluable help on account of the maps and other documents he has left over from his father’s expedition.”