“Truly?” Abigail’s eyes shone with genuine interest.
Charles nodded eagerly. “They placed these carved scarabs within tombs, believing they would aid the deceased in their journey through the afterlife—ensuring their rebirth.”
“I hadn’t thought you such a scholar,” Abigail jested affectionately.
“I’ve learned to keep pace,” Charles responded with a laugh. “After all, I must be able to converse intelligently with you and your Lord Beaumont.” He gave her a knowing wink.
She flushed softly at Arthur’s name, just as voices approached them from behind, and a rich female voice politely intruded.
“Surely you don’t intend to keep all your knowledge to yourselves?”
Turning, they found Eliza Beaumont, vivacious as ever, accompanied by her brother Arthur, whose presence immediately quickened Abigail’s pulse. Their smiles were bright and greetings were exchanged with genuine warmth. Abigail was conscious of the many eyes subtly turning their way, whispering excitedly at the quartet’s gathering.
Arthur greeted them cordially, his eyes lingering appreciatively on Abigail. “Miss Darlington, Charles—what an unexpected pleasure to meet you here.”
Eliza, as charming as ever, linked her arm companionably through Abigail’s. “I hope you’re prepared for a thorough exploration; Arthur is determined to prove his expertise.” She drew Abigail into an animated conversation as they moved along. “Have you ever seen such treasures? It’s as if all the history of the Nile is here before us!”
Their party moved along, encountering other fashionable members of society. Abigail gracefully exchanged pleasantries, but secretly wished the group would leave her alone with Arthur.
At one point, Lord Ellsworth, known for his tedious conversation, paused before an ancient urn, confidently misidentifying it as Roman. Abigail politely corrected him, earning a subtle smile of admiration from Arthur.
They passed through another gallery filled with impressive statues of pharaohs, each figure an embodiment of authority and history. Abigail’s eyes fell on a striking relief panel illustrating Pharaoh Ramses II triumphing in the battle of Kadesh.
Arthur stepped closer, his voice soft. “An extraordinary piece. Ramses believed himself divinely favoured. His self-assurance shaped an empire.”
“Do you admire him for that?” Abigail asked softly.
He considered her question seriously. “I admire the clarity of purpose. But perhaps humility is something we all should seek more earnestly.”
Their conversation deepened as they lingered by the display, unnoticed by the others. Abigail felt a quiet intimacy building between them, and it startled her how natural it felt.
Nearby, Eliza and Charles discussed another exhibit, their laughter mingling easily. Abigail observed them quietly, noting the growing affection between her cousin and Arthur’s sister, and wondered if their charade might yield more genuine relationships than anticipated.
Indeed, Abigail found herself naturally gravitating toward Arthur, their steps intuitively aligning as they lingered before an intricately painted wooden sarcophagus, richly adorned in semi-precious stones and gold leaf.
“This is extraordinary,” Abigail murmured softly, her eyes tracing the delicate hieroglyphs lining the coffin’s sides. “These symbols here—they recount the deeds and virtues of the individual within, guiding them safely through the perils of the afterlife.”
Arthur leaned in slightly, his voice equally hushed, his eyes fixed thoughtfully upon the carvings. “Imagine being remembered thus, your life written plainly, your character judged fit or unfit for eternity. A rather daunting prospect, wouldn’t you say?”
“Quite,” Abigail agreed softly, meeting his gaze briefly, her heart suddenly quickening under the sincerity of his look. “It’s sobering to think of our actions measured so explicitly. Though perhaps comforting as well, to know that some people’s worth might be acknowledged beyond this life.”
“Do you believe in such things?” he asked quietly, his tone almost earnest beneath its casual veneer. “Perhaps it encourages us to consider how we live our lives. Mayhap it encourages us to be better people—more thoughtful about how we treat others.”
Abigail considered him seriously for a moment. There was something profound in the way he looked at her then, and Abigail felt a flutter of nervousness beneath the warmth spreading in her chest.
Arthur nodded slowly to himself as if letting the thought settle, his eyes still fixed on hers with a quiet intensity. “A thoughtful life—is that what you wish for, Abigail?”
Her voice softened. “Yes, I think so. Far more so than a fashionable one surrounded by rules and obligations. I believe that if we were to focus our attentions on being kind half as much as we worry about following societal obligations, the world would be much greater for it.”
Their conversation was interrupted gently by Eliza’s voice behind them. “Abigail, Arthur! Rescue me—I fear my head will burst with knowledge! Charles insists I learn about the burial rites depicted here. I fear I may not sleep tonight if I listen much longer!”
Laughter rippled gently through their small circle, dissipating the spell between Abigail and Arthur and pulling Abigail reluctantly away from his steady gaze.
They regrouped, moving together once more, but Abigail’s mind lingered on their quiet exchange. The afternoon, which had begun as mere artifice, was becoming something more genuine. Each glance Arthur gave her seemed less contrived, each conversation more personal, each silence more meaningful.
As they continued through the hall, Abigail felt her heart stir uncertainly. Their charade, so carefully orchestrated, was beginning to feel less like performance and more like reality—an unforeseen shift that was both exhilarating and deeply troubling. Amidst her growing affection, Abigail remained mindful of the delicate nature of their arrangement and the dangerous, watchful eyes of society surrounding them.
Yet for now, amidst the relics of ancient Egypt, surrounded by friends, and beneath Arthur’s attentive gaze, she allowed herself a moment’s reprieve, surrendering to the fragile hope that perhaps, against all expectations, something real was indeed emerging from their careful pretense.
