Darcy1

Section I,

Posted on Tuesday, 25 May 1999

Author's Note: The idea for this story came from my recent acquaintance with Elizabeth Peters wonderful "Amelia Peabody" mystery series. For those who are familiar with the series, they will know to what the title refers. For those who are not familiar with the series I will explain about the series. Amelia Peabody is a Victorian woman of strong opinions, who, after being left a moderate fortune by her somewhat otherworldly father, decides to travel. Her first port of call so to speak after a short stop in Rome is Egypt, at which point she falls under the country's spell, and she meets her match in Radcliffe Emerson, to whom she refers to as Emerson. Another impetus that caused my very perverse muse to put the idea for this story into my head is that having visited the "Amelia Peabody" web site, which has a page on who should play Emerson. While, Harrison Ford was the top vote getter, Colin Firth is number four. In reading the comments, I noticed that someone went so far as to suggest the re-teaming of Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle as Emerson and Amelia. I look forward to hearing what you think of this, please be kind. This is the first time I have attempted a story in first person and so without further adieu

I have always wished to travel, in fact my Dear Papa had always wished to take me to the places he had seen during his Grand Tour. That is not to say that the places he wished to see were at the top of my list of places that I had longed to see, but I am afraid that I am insulting My Self Appointed Critic who stands over my shoulder as I write this account of what occurred during the winter of the Year of Our Lord 1880. Even though this Critic has not entered into my narrative yet.

Perhaps I should start by making a formal introduction. My name is Elizabeth Bennet, my father was Daniel Bennet; the famous scholar of Eastern Languages. I was his youngest child and only daughter of his second wife. My mother died whilst I was in my infancy, so I was never acquainted with her. As I have said, my late Mother was my father's second wife. By his first wife he had four sons, the oldest was already out of the house, married and in business for himself, by the time I was born. As I grew, so did my other three half siblings and they also left the nest and began their own lives. So I was the sole remaining prop of my father's later years, which I must admit he was entering at the time of his second marriage. I never got on with any of my brothers, for they are of the opinion that females were weak and should be treated as children--I am not of this opinion. My Father may have been of the same opinion, but he allowed me to have the same education as my brothers up to a point, though I am of the belief that he never cared what I studied as long as his house was kept tidy and his meals were on time.

That all changed four months before I was to attain my majority. My Dear Papa died, I was relieved that he did not suffer. He was sitting at his desk in his library reading a new text that he had bought in London two months prior to his death. Some four days after his funeral, Mr. Castleton, Papa's solicitor came to the house to read the will. Imagine my surprise to discover that my Papa had left his entire estate to me. Little did I know that my father, even though he had appeared somewhat eccentric and absent minded, had invested heavily on 'change and had made what vulgar persons would refer to as a very tidy fortune.

I was the sole possessor of 500, 000 pounds sterling.

Posted on Wednesday, 26 May 1999

Yes, my Dear Readers, I must admit that I was surprised by My Papa's gift and as I was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth I accepted it gladly. On the other hand, my four despicable, male half-siblings were not so amenable to the fact that our shared male parent had left me his all his property. They had more than likely expected him to leave me a paltry sum. In fact, my eldest brother Basil had the audacity to threaten to contest the will, due to diminished capacity and undue influence, but Mr. Castleton put a stop to that. That did not say that my "Dear half Brothers" did not try. Suddenly I became "Dear Auntie" to all of my nieces and nephews who had shown their affection through the years by staying away or not acknowledging a gift sent them. Their mothers had invited me to come and make my home with them. They also warned me most assiduously against fortune hunters.

I am afraid I found their warnings not unselfish, for I am not stupid. For in the opinion of a culture that believes that marriage is the only decent vocation a woman should look forward to, by the time she reached her majority and after spending some time at a fashionable Female Seminary, I am what is so unkindly termed on the shelf. I am also aware of the fact my looks are not considered anyone's ideal of beauty, being too tall in height and too lean in some aspects of my figure and too full in others. My hair is too dark and coarse and refuses to stay confined in any style, and I have not the peaches and cream complexion that is proper for the "Flower of Young English Womanhood", or so I had been told by my many sisters-in-law. A plain spinster who suddenly has become the possessor of half a million pounds should be smart enough to realise just what has made her suddenly popular among men of a certain stamp.

Instead of rebuffing the fawning behaviour of "loving nieces and nephews, caring sisters-in-law, and affectionate would-be suitors," I encouraged them in that behaviour so that I might laugh up my sleeve at their clumsy attempts at ingratiating themselves with me or declaring their affections.

I finally decided to stop, for I was becoming cynical, and began to plan my trip. Besides, Dear Reader, my Self Appointed Critic begins to make growling noises in the back of his throat when I discuss that period of my life, but I am of the opinion that he believes that I am taking too long in bringing him into this, my narrative. Be that as it may, I decided, for reasons that even now, Dear Readers, I can only marvel at to travel, not to Paris or Vienna, but to of all places Egypt.

So, Dear Readers, I began my preparations for my trip, having always been a very practical woman, I started by writing out my will, I left my entire fortune to The British Museum. It was a place that my Dear Papa spent most of his time when we visited in London. In fact, I am of the belief that if he had been given a choice, he would have been happy to die in the Reading Room there. Secondly, I hired a lady companion for myself. I know that in this day and age, a woman such as myself may travel unaccompanied, except in the mind of certain overly prudish individuals. I however did not hire one for those reasons, I hired her because I was lonely, having never really had the opportunity to cultivate the friendship of another woman. I found that I would get on with Miss Shipton. She was one of those weak-willed women who always seemed to be collapsing into a chair, one hand over her heart. I would be able to lead her through the streets of Cairo easily. After I had settled my business affairs with Mr. Castleton, I received from him a proposal of marriage, which I assure you, my Dear Readers I turned down. Forgive me, Dear Readers, but My Self Appointed Critic is making noises again, he tells me that he wishes I would not mention that incident. I am still of the opinion that he is getting anxious to read of my impression of that most memorable day we met, but I keep telling him that I will arrive at that point in due course, but this only makes him growl all the more insistently.

Having been so politely turned down, Mr. Castleton asked me," Miss Bennet, have any plans at all to wed?"

To which I answered," At present, no. For I have no wish to have some man ruling over me, nor do I wish to rule over him. Though' I would like to feel something more that just mild affection for him." I replied.

"Is that why you dress the way you do, to put off suitors?" Mr. Castleton asked, most impertinently, if I may say so.

"No, Mr. Castleton, I dress this way for comfort." I am not fond of the fashion conventions that have been pushed upon women in this the eighth decade of the nineteenth century of the Christian era, skirts so tight that one could not walk naturally, but only as a toddle, tightly-boned corsets, and worst of all bustles. "Give up Mr. Castleton, puffs and ruffles and bright colors would not do for me." I told him.

"Strange, I somehow pictured you looking well in more fashionable dress." he said.

"Please, Mr. Castleton, I do know what my mirror tells me, I am a plain twenty-one year old spinster. Sallow complexions and coarse dark hair are not the fashion this year." I replied, as he stood up to leave. I must again ask my Dear Readers forgiveness at the shortness of this, as I am being reminded that I must get on with it.

So, I left England for Rome, on my way to Cairo. I am afraid that in Rome I met my first delay in my journey. Miss Shipton became ill, and it appeared that she would be some weeks before she recovered, so I sent her home with a clergyman and his wife who were leaving Rome. I was then some time trying to decide on a new companion for myself. I had visited the British Consulate to enquire if they may know of a woman who would be interested in a situation as a companion. I had not had any answers and I truly wished to get on to my destination, and on the particular morning I write of, I was in a bad humour as I left my hotel. Little did I know that my most plaguing concern was about to be answered by providence in a most amazing way.

Posted on Saturday, 29 May 1999

I was definitely not in a good humour that morning, as I left my hotel with Marco, my guide. I thought I would try some sightseeing to cheer me up, when I noticed a small crowd of people gathered around in a circle. For some reason they were all looking down at something on the ground.

"Marco." I asked," What are they all looking at?"

"The turisti are all looking at the how you say poor English woman fallen dead on the street," he replied.

I was skeptical about the woman having fallen dead, or whether she was truly dead, so employing my parasol to make my way through the small crowd, I did find a young woman lying on the pavement. All around me the crowd were making comments on her background and how she may have gotten to this sorry state, but they were not doing anything to help her. Since it is our Christian duty to help those in need, I knelt down to check on her condition which I believed to be nothing more than a fainting spell. I quickly brought her around to her senses. It was obvious to me as I observed the young woman, that the clothes she wore, however they were inappropriate for the season, were well made.

"You there, please may I borrow your coat?" I asked of a very portly, very red-faced gentleman, who obviously did not need it.

"What?" he asked in a disgusted tone.

"Your coat, I would like to borrow it." I said in a tone, that certain people who shall remain nameless refer to my trying-to-keep-my-temper tone.

"Where am I? What happened?" asked the young woman, who I noticed was about two or three years older than I.

"You fainted. I am just about to arrange transportation for you back to my hotel." I replied, as I gave her some of the food that I had brought in a basket from my hotel. Her very fastidious manner of eating, despite the fact that it was obvious that she had not eaten in some time told me that she was a Lady--fallen on hard times, perhaps--but a Lady nonetheless. I quickly received the name of the hotel of the "gentleman" whose coat I had borrowed and promised that I would have it sent back to him.

Returning to my hotel room, after the physician had determined that I had been correct in my surmise that she had fainted from lack of food. I let the woman rest for a time, before I began to inquire as to how she had come to this state. I was therefore quite surprised when she thanked me for my kindness and that she was sorry I had troubled myself over someone such as she.

"Nonsense, it is our duty to help those in need." I told her.

"You do not know me, or how I came to be in this state, perhaps if you knew that you would not be so compassionate." she replied.

"I will be the judge of that, after I have heard your story." I replied.

Posted on Wednesday, 2 June 1999

Miss Collins-Baines Story

My name is Jane Collins-Baines. I am the granddaughter of the Marquess of Heathstone. I see that even you recognise the name. My Father was his eldest son, he died when I was small child of about three years. My Mother died some months after. I was given into the care of my Mother's only brother; Mr. Edward Gardiner, who resides in Gracechurch Street. I was raised by them until I attained the age of nine years, whereupon my Grandfather whom I was hitherto unacquainted with, prevailed upon my Uncle Gardiner to let me come to live with him at Heathstone Close by in Hertfordshire, not too many miles from the house where I was born; Longbourne.

I must confess that though I missed my Uncle and Aunt, I settled in nicely at my Grandfather's estate. My Grandfather was kind and loving, and I soon became his dear pet. I was also given to know that I would inherit on his death, all his private fortune. I can see that you are a feminist, Miss..... Elizabeth, so I know that you will be aware of the fact that though my father was my Grandfather's eldest son, the estate and title was entailed away on his only Grandson. This was difficult on him, for my Grandfather is a stubborn man and was not happy with his only Daughter's choice of a husband, as she had eloped with a foreigner, and not just any foreigner, but an Italian. My Grandfather is of the belief that those of Latin blood are both unstable and unreliable. My Grandfather, when crossed can be unforgiving, and at my Aunt's elopement, he caused her name to be struck from the Family Bible. Even when she lay dying he, I am sorry to say, he would not seek a reconciliation. After my Aunt died, her only child and son, immediately began a campaign to put himself into my Grandfather's good graces again, beginning with changing his name to an Anglicised form of his name. My cousin William was very friendly with me and he did spend some of his time at Heathstone Close. As a young and impressionable girl, I even had the idea that Grandfather was planning a match between William and myself, until an incident, that was never fully explained to me caused my Grandfather to send William away.

Posted on Thursday, 3 June 1999

Before my Grandfather sent my cousin away, I had evinced an interest in art and drawing. My cousin even went so far as to find a teacher for me and in so doing, though I had not realised at the time my disgrace had been sealed. While nothing came of the belief that my Grandfather had planned a match between myself and my cousin, I was still young enough to believe that love must proceed marriage, so love entered my life with Giorgio; my drawing teacher. Unfortunately, I must confess I was very stupid and very naive enough to believe his protestations and in short, he seduced me and convinced me into an elopement. I took all the jewels that my Grandfather had given me, jewels appropriate for a someone of my years, and sold them. It provided us just enough money get us this far.

As we traveled, I would attempt to discover Giorgio's plans, but he was always evasive. He would not settle for a civil ceremony, as he was a Catholic, and he could not marry me as I was not Catholic. It soon became evident that marriage had never been his intention just as the last of our money ran out. That very morning, I woke to find that he had left and taken everything of mine but this dress, pair of shoes, and mantle. He had also left a note, a poorly written note, explaining that he had chosen me as his prey, as I was obviously a great heiress. At our elopement my Grandfather had written me out of his will, but through Giorgio's communications with the "old man" as he vulgarly referred to him.... (post by Mary Collette was cut off herea. h. )

He had been in communications so to speak, as every morning he visited the British Consul, where he had found that shortly after my elopement, my Grandfather had indeed cut me off without a shilling and afterward suffered a severe stroke that put him in a coma, from which it was believed he would not recover. At this point he informed me that he was leaving me to find a better prospect. (At this point Dear Readers, Jane broke down in great sobs. I held her for a time, but soon she gathered her courage and continued on with her story. ) The shock of my abandonment and the fact I had not eaten properly for some time had caused me to become ill. The hideous woman who ran the house in whose cold attics we stayed, having no wish to have a corpse on her hands, let me stay just long enough to recover. That was this very morning, Miss.... Elizabeth. I was then evicted from there just as you see me. I decided then to find the means to end my poor wasted and ruined life, until you came into the Forum and helped me.

Posted on Wednesday, 1 September 1999

I must admit it took some time to convince Miss Collins-Baines that I was most serious in wishing her to be my companion, but I prevailed in the end. After Jane, as she wished me to call her, was convinced, I set about preparing her for our trip to Egypt, I set about by purchasing a new wardrobe for the girl. It surprised me though, as I was somewhat mistaken in Jane, as she turned from a half starved kitten to a full grown lioness. I do not know how she accomplished it, for she never truly countermanded an order or contradicted my suggestions; but she eventually acquired a wardrobe that was charming and simple and astonishingly expensive. And, in the process, I somehow found myself purchasing at least a dozen new frocks for myself, frocks I had, had no intention of buying. What surprised me most about the frocks was that they were of a styles and colours that I would never have chosen myself. One evening dress, which I definitely did not need, was of the most astonishing shade of crimson satin, with a square neckline cut several inches lower than I would have worn it. The skirts were draped back over a bustle, displaying a sequined underskirt. Jane chose the fabric and bullied the dressmaker quite as effectively, and much more quietly, than I would have done. I thought the gown quite silly, for it squeezed my waist down to nothing and made my bosom seem more ample than it already is, but when Jane said," Wear it!"; I wore it. She also discovered a secret weakness for embroidered batiste, it was so secret that I was not aware of it myself, and the dozens of fine undergarments and nightgowns I had meant to purchase for Jane, ended up being made to my measurements. Though I was surprised by this change in Jane, enough of my practical nature remained, however, to allow me to take certain steps.

I must confess to you my Dear Readers, that My Self Appointed Critic has gotten from the relating of the steps I had taken, the very false impression that I am a man-hater. I had discovered, however, that few persons of the male sex were to be trusted, and Jane's sad story had merely confirmed this theory. The Dear Reader must forgive me but I have had stop this my narrative, but, My Self Appointed Critic must insist at laughing at "my theory". Be that as it may, since Giorgio obviously proved to be an untruthful person, I believed that I should pay a call on our consul to have his story confirmed or denied as the case may be.

I was disappointed for several reasons to learn that on this account, if no other, Giorgio had spoken the truth. The Marquess of Heathstone was personally known to our consul; and of course the health of a peer of such rank was a matter of general concern. The elderly Marquess was not yet dead, but word of his demise was expected at any moment. He had been in a deep coma for days.

I proceeded to tell the consul about Jane. From the way his face changed to a blank diplomatic mask, I could tell he had heard rumours of this affair. He had the temerity to remonstrate with me when I explained my intentions with regard to the girl. I cut him short, naturally. I only had two reasons for mentioning Jane at all. Firstly, to ascertain whether or not any of her kin had made inquiries about her. Secondly, to inform someone in authority of her future whereabouts in case such inquiries were made in future. My first question was answered in the negative. The consul's diplomatic mask notwithstanding, I could see by his expression that he did not expect any such inquiries. He knew the old Marquess too well. I therefore gave him my direction in Cairo and departed, leaving him shaking his head and mumbling to himself.

Those steps taken, Dear Readers, I will now, to the roars of "finally!" or sentiments to the effect by My Self Appointed Critic, I will only add that on the twenty-sixth of the month we boarded the ship at Brindisi and set sail for Alexandria.

Chapter 2

I will spare my Gentle Readers descriptions of the journey and of the picturesque dirt of Alexandria. Every European traveler who can write his or her name feels obliged to publish his memoirs; the reader may refer to "Miss Smith's Egyptian Journals" or "Mr. Jones Winter in Egypt" if he feels cheated of local colour, for all the descriptions are the same. Our voyage was in a word; abominable, but I was glad to find that Jane was a very good traveler. Our journey to Cairo was without incident and soon we were settled in at Shepheards Hotel.

Everyone who travels to Egypt, stays at Shepheards. Among the travelers who meet in its magnificent dining room one may eventually, it is said meet all ones acquaintances; and from the terrace before the hotel the lazy traveler may watch a panorama of eastern life pass before his eyes as he sips his lemonade or tea. Stiff English travelers ride past, on donkeys so small that the riders' feet trail in the dust, followed by the Janissaries in their gold-embroidered uniforms, armed to the teeth; by native women swathed to the eyebrows in dusty black, by stately Arabs in flowing blue and white robes, dervishes with matted hair and fantastic headdresses, sweetmeat vendors with trays of Turkish delight, water sellers with their goatskin containers bloated with liquid, horridly lifelike..... But, again the reader must excuse me, as My Critic reminds me, unnecessarily so, that I am succumbing to the temptations of the traveler, and must stop; the procession is unending and fascinating.

Posted on Friday, 10 September 1999

Author's Note: Before I go on with this, I need to beg the indulgence of all my Dear Readers. One of the things I have enjoyed about the series of books that I am based my story on is the historical details that are in the books. That being said, I must admit that I am taking some historical license with my story, in that the events taking place, that will soon be mentioned actually took place in the year 1884-1885. I also will be using some Arabic and Egyptian words, and I thought I might give a glossary of some of them. I would also like to point out that the names of the ancient Egyptian pharaohs' names used in my story are spellings contemporary to the era.

Glossary

o        Dahahbeeyah--------a houseboat (floating palace)

o        Sitt---------------Lady, a title of respect

o        Reis---------------a captain, or foreman

o        Firman-------------permission to excavate

o        Baksheesh----------alms or gratuities

English travelers were few in Cairo that winter. The fighting in the Sudan had apparently alarmed them. The mad Mahdi was still besieging the gallant Gordon at Khartoum. However Sir Garnet Woseley's relief expedition had reached Wadi Halfa, and the gentlemen we had met at Shepheards reassured us-or rather reassured Jane-when she expressed her doubts to the wisdom of traveling south. The fighting was still hundreds of miles below Assuan (Aswan) , and by the we arrived there, the war would be over-the Mahdi taken, and his barbaric army crushed, the gallant Gordon relieved.

I, myself, was not so sanguine as the gentlemen. The mad carpenter of the Sudan had proved himself an extremely potent general, as our losses in that area proved. However, I said nothing to Jane, for I had no intentions of changing my plans to suit the Mahdi or anyone else. (Forgive me Dear Readers, but it appears that My Self Appointed Critic has got something caught in the back of his throat, and I must pat him on his back. ) I planned to spend the winter sailing up the Nile and sail I would.

Travel by water is the only comfortable method of seeing Egypt, and the narrow length of the country means that all the antiquities are in easy reach of the river. I had heard from My Dear Papa of the pleasures of travel by dahahbeeyah, and I was anxious to try it. To call these conveyances merely houseboats, hardly does them justice, and gives a poor idea of their luxury. Floating palaces is a better description. They can be fitted up with every convenience the traveler chooses to supply, and the services available depend solely on his or her ability to pay. I intended to go to Boulaq, where the boats are moored, and decide on one the day after our arrival. We could then inspect some of the sights of Cairo and then be on our way in a few days.

When I expressed this intention to some of our fellow guests in the lounge of the hotel after dinner, a burst of hilarity greeted my remarks. I was informed that my hopes were in vain. Choosing a dahahbeeyah was a frustrating, time consuming process; the native Egyptian was a lazy fellow who could not be hurried.

(I have been informed by My Self Appointed Critic that I am voicing opinions that show the natural intolerance of the English race, to which I have informed him that they were not my opinions. )

Posted on Saturday, 11 September 1999

I had my own opinions on that score, but I caught Jane's eye and remained silent. She was having an astonishing effect on me, that girl; I thought if I continued in her company much longer, I might become mellow.

Jane was looking very pretty that night, in a frock of pale-blue silk, and had attracted considerable attention. We had agreed that her real name was not to be mentioned, since it was well known to many Englishmen; she was therefore introduced as Jane Gardiner to honour her maternal Uncle who died when Jane was fourteen. Tiring, finally, of the clumsy efforts of some of the ladies in our group to discover her antecedents, I used fatigue as an excuse for early retirement.

I woke early the next morning. An ethereal rose-tinted light filled the room, and I could see Jane kneeling by the window. I thought that she was brooding over past events again; there had been moments of depression, quickly overcame, but not unnoticed by me. I therefore tried to remain motionless, but I inadvertently caused the bedclothes to rustle, causing Jane to turn around, and I saw not sadness in her eyes, but a face shining with pleasure.

"Come and look Lizzie. It is so beautiful." she exclaimed joyfully.

Before I go on my Dear Readers, I would just like to point out that though my Christian name is Elizabeth, it was my Mother, as my Dear Papa informed me who decided that I was to be Lizzie, which my Papa did call me in the moments of affection we shared.

To obey was not as simple as it sounds. I had first to fight my way through the muffling folds of fine white mosquito netting encircling the bed. When I joined Jane, I shared her pleasure. Our rooms overlooked the gardens of the hotel; stately palms, dark silhouettes in the pale dawn, rose up against a sky filled with translucent azure and pink streaks. Birds fluttered, singing from tree to tree; the lacy minarets of the mosques shone like mother-of-pearl above the treetops. The air was cool and exquisitely clear.

It was a good thing our day began so peacefully and with such beauty, for the wharves of Boulaq, where we went after breakfast, were not at all peaceful. I began to understand what our fellow travelers had warned me about. There were over an hundred boats at their moorings; the confusion and noise were indescribable.

(Forgive me Dear, Gentle Readers, but My Self Appointed Critic is mumbling and growling something to the effect that given the chance, I would eventually come up with the most appropriate words in which to describe the noise and confusion. I though am still of the belief that he wishes me to hurry to describe the momentous day that brought him into my life, and he growls at me when I tell him so. )

Posted on Wednesday, 15 September 1999

Just want to add two more words to the glossary.

Glossary dragoman-------a guide for independent tourists
Copt-----------an Egyptian Christian

The boats are much alike, varying only in size. The cabins occupy the after part of the deck, and their roof forms an upper deck which, when furnished and canopied provides a charming open drawing room for passengers. The crew occupy the lower deck. Here is the kitchen, a shed containing a charcoal stove and a collection of pots and pans. The dahabeeyahs are flat bottom boats with two masts; and when the huge sails are spread to catch the brisk northerly breeze, they present a most attractive picture.

Our problem, then was to decide which boat to hire. At first, even I was bewildered by the variety. (Forgive me, Dear Readers, but My Self Appointed Critic finds the thought of me bewildered by any situation amusing, to which, I ask him if he ever tried to hire a dahabeeyah. He then answers me that he hates that mode of travel. I tell him to keep his opinions to himself. )

It did not take long however, to realise that some of the boats were impossible. There are degrees of uncleanliness; I could tolerate, indeed, I expected a state of sanitation inferior to that of England, but....... ! Unfortunately, the bigger boats were the usually better kept. I did not mind the expense, but it seemed a trifle ridiculous for the two of us-and my maid-to rattle about in a boat with ten staterooms and two saloons.

At Jane's insistence we had hired a dragoman that morning at the hotel. I saw no reason why we should; I had learned some Arabic phrases during our voyage to Alexandria, and had every confidence in my ability in dealing with an Egyptian boat captain. However I yielded to Jane. Our dragoman's name was Michael Bedawee; he was a Copt, an Egyptian Christian, a short, plump, coffee coloured man with a fine black beard and white turban, to my shrewd eye Michael appeared to be about four and twenty years of age-although I must confess that this description would fit half the male population of Egypt. What distinguished Michael was the friendliness of his smile and candor of his soft brown eyes. We took to him at once, and he seemed to like us.

With Michael's help we selected a boat. The Philae was of middle size and of unusual tidiness; Jane and I both liked the looks of the reis or captain. His name was Hassan and he was an Egyptian of Luxor. He appeared to be a some years older than Michael. I approved of the firm set of his mouth and the steady gaze of his black eyes-and the glint of humour in them when I assayed my few words of Arabic. I supposed my accent was atrocious, but Reis Hassan complimented me on my knowledge of his language, and the bargain was concluded.

With pride of ownership Jane and I explored the quarters that would be our home for the next four months. The boat had four cabins, two on either side of a narrow passageway. There was also a bathroom, with water laid on. At the end of the passage, a door opened into the saloon, which was semicircular, following the shape of the stern. It was well lighted by eight windows, and had a long curved divan along the wall. Brussels' carpets covered the floor; the paneling was white with gold trim, giving a light airy feeling. Window curtains of scarlet, a handsome dining table, and several mirrors in gold frames completed the furnishings.

With ardor of ladies equipping a new house, we discussed what else we should need. There were cupboards and shelves in plenty, and we had books to fill the shelves. I had brought a large box of Father's books on Egyptian antiquities, and I had hoped to purchase more. But we should also need a piano. I am accounted an adequate pianist, but I suppose if I took the time to practice, my fingers would move more competently across the keyboard. With My Dear Jane's example, I would more than likely become prodigious, as Jane played and sang beautifully, proof positive that Jane and I will get on very well.

I asked Reis Hassan when he would be ready to depart; here I received my first check. The boat had just returned from a trip. The crew needed time to rest and visit their families; certain mysterious overhaulings needed to be done on the vessel itself. We finally settled on a date a week's hence, but there was something in Hassan's bland black eyes that made me wonder..........

Nothing went as I planned it. Finding a suitable piano took an unreasonable amount of time. I wanted new curtains for the saloon; their shade clashed with my crimson evening frock. As Jane pointed out, we were in no hurry; yet I had a feeling that she was even more anxious than I to be on our way. Every evening when we entered the dining room I felt her shrink. Sooner or later it was more than probable that we should encounter an acquaintance, and I could understand why she shrank from that.

Our days were not entirely wasted; there is a great deal to see and do in Cairo. The bazaars were a source of constant amusement; the procession of people passing through the narrow passages would have been entertainment enough without the fascination of the wares on display. Each trade occupies a section of its own: saddlers, slipper makers, copper and bronze workers, carpet sellers, and vendors of tobacco and sweetmeats. There are no real shops, only tiny cupboards, open at the front, with a stone platform or mastaba, on which the merchants sit cross-legged, awaiting customers. I could not resist the rugs and bought several for our drawing room on the Philae soft glowing beauties from Persia and Syria. I desperately tried to but some trinkets for Jane; but she would only accept a pair of little velvet slippers.

We visited the bazaars, the mosques, and the Citadel; and then planned excursions somewhat farther afield. Of course I was anxious to see the remains of the ancient civilization, but I little realised what was in store for me that day, when we paid our first visit to Gizeh. (Wonder of wonders, Dear Readers, on this point My Self Appointed Critic actually agrees with me. )

Posted on Saturday, 18 September 1999

Everyone who visits Egypt eventually goes to see the pyramids. I am of the belief that it should be mandatory for anyone who decides to travel to Egypt. Seeing them h...