Amanda Grange & Jacqueline Webb by Pride, Pyramids

gallantly.
    â€œHowever,” Lord Potheroe continued, “do not let Amelia’s enthusiasms blind you to the inconveniences of Egypt, and there are many. You should be aware of the dangers of drinking the water and the diseases that seem to be rife among the poor, even once the plague season has passed. And the animals can be deadly as well. Never be tempted to swim in the rivers, Darcy, no matter how hot it gets. The Nile crocodiles are the most fearsome creatures I have ever seen. We witnessed a male drowning a—”
    â€œOliver, this is hardly appropriate dinner conversation,” Lady Potheroe interrupted gently.
    Her husband looked awkward.
    â€œYou are right as usual, my dear,” he said.
    Elizabeth changed the direction of the conversation by saying, “Have you visited the British Museum recently? Edward had business with Sir Matthew, and we saw the beginnings of his exhibition room. He longs to fill it with treasures one day, but at the moment it is practically empty, apart from a few pots and a frieze of an Egyptian woman. She looked remarkably like the little doll Edward gave to Margaret—or, should I say, the doll which Margaret appropriated!”
    Edward finished the last of his dessert and sat back on his chair. “Ah, you mean Aahotep.”
    â€œIt is a peculiar little trinket,” Darcy said.
    â€œEgypt is full of such things, Darcy,” Lord Potheroe said rather dismissively, but his wife held up a finger.
    â€œDo tell us more, Mr Fitzwilliam. I adore Egyptian folktales.”
    Her husband smiled indulgently. “Amelia speaks the truth. Whenever we ventured into the souks and she spotted a vase or a tapestry or a rug with even a hint of a story—the gorier the better, I might add—I knew I would not be able to wrest her away until the whole ghastly tale had been told and my wallet would be lighter of a good few pounds.”
    The Darcys laughed as Edward pushed his plate aside.
    â€œIt is not a long story,” he said, “although it is rather intriguing. I must confess a similar love of Egyptian stories as Lady Potheroe, and so I made it my business to discover what I could about Aahotep.”
    â€œBravo, Mr Fitzwilliam,” said Lady Potheroe. “We romantics must stick together. Please tell us the story.”
    â€œYes, do, Edward,” Elizabeth agreed eagerly. “Then I promise Lady Potheroe and I will leave you gentlemen to your port.”
    Edward bowed from his chair. “Very well then—although I warn you, I have no means of knowing how authentic this tale is…”
    By now even Lord Potheroe and Darcy were intrigued and, encouraged by their enthusiasm, Edward began.
    â€œAahotep was reputed to have lived in the Old Kingdom Era—that is, during the period between 2686 and 2181 BC. She was, according to my source, a somewhat unpleasant creature, although perhaps we should not blame her too much for her wayward life. She was born the fifth daughter of a poor fisherman on the Nile and sold into slavery quite young when her parents decided they could not afford any more girls. She began her career quite humbly as a slave in the household of a grand vizier but soon rose to become a servant of some importance.”
    â€œOh, let me guess,” said Lady Potheroe smiling. “She was exceptionally beautiful.”
    â€œYou have been teasing me, Lady Potheroe; you have heard this story before.”
    â€œMr Fitzwilliam, the woman in question is always exceptionally beautiful; it is a staple of the best stories from every civilisation. Is that not so, Oliver?”
    Lord Potheroe laughed. “You would know, my dear.”
    â€œOf course,” agreed Elizabeth. “What is the good of a story if the woman is not beautiful and the hero not brave? Do go on, Edward.”
    â€œWell this beautiful woman was evil as well—”
    â€œNot essentially evil, Edward,” said Darcy, entering into the