Valley of Dust once they reached the Hawk Rock, and even less idea how long they would wish to remain there when—and Jenny noted with some amusement that Uncle Neville persistently said “when,” never “if”—they found it.
At this point, “they” and “them” still referred exclusively to Uncle Neville, Stephen Holmboe, and the mysterious Edward Bryce, but Jenny felt certain that long before the time came for the members of the expedition to board the steamer that would carry them upriver, she would be included in their number.
And if not officially, she thought, I’ll just stow myself in a trunk ’til they can’t possibly leave me behind.
With the aim of making herself as useful as possible, Jenny applied herself to learning basic hieroglyphs—at least this way she’d recognize characters, if not always be able to interpret their meaning. She also took advantage of the long days traveling by train across France to demonstrate her skill for accurate sketching. Uncle Neville had decided not to trouble with the delicate and expensive bother of a camera, so an artist other than the already overextended Mr. Holmboe would not come amiss.
Jenny’s thoughts were so focused on Egypt that France went by in a blur. Only after they had reached the port where they would board the steamship that would carry them across the entire length of the Mediterranean Sea did she wonder if this had been deliberate—an avoidance, not so much of the country, as of the inevitable memories of her French-born father that it would bring.
When they arrived aboard Neptune’s Charger , a not completely pleasant surprise awaited them. Bert and Emily had gone ahead to settle their belongings while the remaining members of the group took care of some last minute shopping. The shops were crowded, and the French merchants obstructive until Jenny flourished her best French at them. Consequently, they arrived just before departure. Neptune’s Charger had left port and was well out to sea when they discovered who was among their traveling companions.
Jenny was standing on an upper deck, looking down at the churning water, when a light, laughing voice spoke from close beside her. “I do always wonder why Homer called the Mediterranean the ‘wine-dark sea,’ ” the voice said. “It looks rather like water anywhere. Maybe these blues and greens are more lustrous, but certainly the waters are not wine-purple.”
Jenny turned to find Lady Audrey Cheshire leaning with studied elegance against the rail. Her first inclination was to blurt out “What are you doing here?” Her second to wonder if this meeting was completely coincidence. She might have gaped open mouthed for a moment, but her reply pleased her with its cool control.
“Lady Cheshire, is it not?” Jenny said, giving a slight dip of her skirts. “I believe we met on the day I arrived in England.”
“Was that the very day you arrived?” Lady Cheshire asked. “I recall Sir Neville saying you were newly come from America, but I hadn’t realized you had landed that same day. Are you then leaving again so soon?”
Jenny nodded. “Uncle Neville offered me the opportunity to accompany him to Egypt, and I was happy to take him up on his kind offer.”
Lady Cheshire looked more interested than that simple response deserved. “Surely you must be apprehensive about venturing into the Egyptian wilds.”
“Wilds?” Jenny laughed. “I understand Cairo is very civilized. It was an old city before London had its Great Fire.”
“True.” Lady Cheshire opened a fan and waved it languidly, though the sea breeze was fresh and pleasant. “Cairo is rather marvelous. I have visited her many times, and would be happy to show you the sights.”
Knowing her uncle’s desire for secrecy, Jenny didn’t know how to respond to this ostensibly kind offer. She was saved from needing to do so by the arrival of that gentleman himself.
“Lady Cheshire?” Sir Neville said. “Is that
At this point, “they” and “them” still referred exclusively to Uncle Neville, Stephen Holmboe, and the mysterious Edward Bryce, but Jenny felt certain that long before the time came for the members of the expedition to board the steamer that would carry them upriver, she would be included in their number.
And if not officially, she thought, I’ll just stow myself in a trunk ’til they can’t possibly leave me behind.
With the aim of making herself as useful as possible, Jenny applied herself to learning basic hieroglyphs—at least this way she’d recognize characters, if not always be able to interpret their meaning. She also took advantage of the long days traveling by train across France to demonstrate her skill for accurate sketching. Uncle Neville had decided not to trouble with the delicate and expensive bother of a camera, so an artist other than the already overextended Mr. Holmboe would not come amiss.
Jenny’s thoughts were so focused on Egypt that France went by in a blur. Only after they had reached the port where they would board the steamship that would carry them across the entire length of the Mediterranean Sea did she wonder if this had been deliberate—an avoidance, not so much of the country, as of the inevitable memories of her French-born father that it would bring.
When they arrived aboard Neptune’s Charger , a not completely pleasant surprise awaited them. Bert and Emily had gone ahead to settle their belongings while the remaining members of the group took care of some last minute shopping. The shops were crowded, and the French merchants obstructive until Jenny flourished her best French at them. Consequently, they arrived just before departure. Neptune’s Charger had left port and was well out to sea when they discovered who was among their traveling companions.
Jenny was standing on an upper deck, looking down at the churning water, when a light, laughing voice spoke from close beside her. “I do always wonder why Homer called the Mediterranean the ‘wine-dark sea,’ ” the voice said. “It looks rather like water anywhere. Maybe these blues and greens are more lustrous, but certainly the waters are not wine-purple.”
Jenny turned to find Lady Audrey Cheshire leaning with studied elegance against the rail. Her first inclination was to blurt out “What are you doing here?” Her second to wonder if this meeting was completely coincidence. She might have gaped open mouthed for a moment, but her reply pleased her with its cool control.
“Lady Cheshire, is it not?” Jenny said, giving a slight dip of her skirts. “I believe we met on the day I arrived in England.”
“Was that the very day you arrived?” Lady Cheshire asked. “I recall Sir Neville saying you were newly come from America, but I hadn’t realized you had landed that same day. Are you then leaving again so soon?”
Jenny nodded. “Uncle Neville offered me the opportunity to accompany him to Egypt, and I was happy to take him up on his kind offer.”
Lady Cheshire looked more interested than that simple response deserved. “Surely you must be apprehensive about venturing into the Egyptian wilds.”
“Wilds?” Jenny laughed. “I understand Cairo is very civilized. It was an old city before London had its Great Fire.”
“True.” Lady Cheshire opened a fan and waved it languidly, though the sea breeze was fresh and pleasant. “Cairo is rather marvelous. I have visited her many times, and would be happy to show you the sights.”
Knowing her uncle’s desire for secrecy, Jenny didn’t know how to respond to this ostensibly kind offer. She was saved from needing to do so by the arrival of that gentleman himself.
“Lady Cheshire?” Sir Neville said. “Is that
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