Seton promised to remain with her, and to ensurethat a candle was in proximity. He also made much of the tomb of Khufu, stating that it would be unthinkable to miss viewing the King’s Chamber, though the pharaoh’s immense black coffin was the sole remaining artefact in the room that had once contained every sort of treasure to serve him in the afterlife.
Onora was touched by his thoughtfulness. Her aunt’s talkativeness was undoubtedly more of an irritation than a pleasure. Without undue conceit, Onora could say that his patience was on her account and, for that, she was grateful.
Talk of the tomb’s interior was making her feel uneasy. She’d been inside, but so long ago it seemed another lifetime, and in the company of her father. Could she bear to return there, to those cramped spaces?
As they drew closer, their carriage veered to join four others, from which the occupants had already descended and were milling about. There were the two elderly spinster sisters Clodagh had taken a liking to, as well as the Reverend and Mrs. Griffiths, who were from somewhere near Swansea. Colonel Harris-Corbet spotted them and was making his way over, though Dr. MacGregor and Herr Müller remained with the Auvrays, who were French.
Seton helped her down then assisted her aunt, before instructing the driver to wait in the shade of some palm trees not far off. Guides were to take them within the grandest of the pyramids, the tour of which would last no more than an hour.
However, as their party made ready to enter, an engulfing fear swept over Onora, making her knees buckle.
Seton managed to grab her before she fell.
“Oh, my goodness!” Clodagh wailed. “She’s fainting!”
“Lower her down.” Mrs. Griffiths’s gentle Welsh lilt intervened. “Wilfred, dear, open up my parasol and hold it over Miss Montague.”
Onora found herself half-reclined upon the sand, with her back resting against Seton, who was kneelingbehind.
The Scotsman, Dr. MacGregor, was alongside, putting his fingers to her wrist. “Hmmm. Rather fast, and she’s disoriented. Could be the start of heatstroke. Need to get the lass out of the sun. What do you think, Seton? Inside the entrance to the pyramid? It’s the best I can think of.”
“No! Not in there!” Onora tried to push herself upright but was helpless against Seton’s strength, now applied to hold her where she was.
“Calm yourself, my dear.” Close to her ear, Seton whispered, “Whenever I’m near, no harm can come. You trust me in all things. You know that whatever I say must be the truth.”
The leaping in her chest began to quieten, and her breathing became less jagged. “Thank you. I’m better now. Let me stand. Please.”
This time, as she attempted to rise, Seton assisted.
“We’ll return to the hotel,” her aunt declared. “Lord Seton, you’ll summon the driver for us? Laying down in a darkenedroom will be best. We’ll soon have her right again.”
“That’s really not…I don’t want to lie down.” Onora rubbed at her temple. It wasn’t like her to be affected by the sun, nor to suffer an attack of panic. She felt an aversion for the confined corridors of the pyramid, but Seton’s words filled her mind, urging her to trust him.
“Mademoiselle Montague shall remain with me.” Madame Auvray glided over. “Clearly she does not wish to go into this tomb, and nor do I. The rest of you go ahead. Mademoiselle and I shall seat ourselves in the shade of the Sphinx. The drivers will arrange everything: the stools for sitting and the basket of refreshments. We shall be perfectly content, and we shall talk. There is nothing to cause worry.”
Seton took a step back. “A splendid suggestion. Thank you, Madame.”
Her aunt began to object but Onora urged, “Please, continue without me. I know how you wanted to view inside the pyramid. Youmay tell me your impressions afterward. I’ll be perfectly fine with Madame Auvray.”
“Well, if you’re sure, dear, but please do keep to the shade.” Her aunt was already being steered away by Lord Seton.
“Voilà!” Madame Auvray gave a bright smile. “No dusty tombs for us today. Let us go,chérie. I am eager to know you better, and this gives us the perfect opportunity to speak in private.”
Onora didn’t knowwhat to make of Madame Auvray, who had immediately insisted on being spoken to as Virginie or even Gigi—as she said her friends called her.
Lord Seton had employed a dragoman to accompany them on the outing, and it was he who organized the setting up of the picnic: stools side by side in the shade, as Virginie directed, and several small folding tables, covered with prettily patterned cloths. Baskets opened to reveal an urn ofsweetened tea and a selection of delicacies packed by the hotel, as well as glasses, plates, cutlery, and fine linen napkins.
The Frenchwoman loaded a plate with small pastries, sweet and savory, as well as dates stuffed with almond paste and pistachio nuts, then placed it not before herself but in front of Onora.
“I’m not the least bit hungry. I can’t eat any of this,” Onora protested.
“Nonsense. The tea and the food will revive you. Take a mouthful of something; to please me, yes?” Madame Auvray coaxed, looking at Onora through thick lashes.
She really was most attractive. Not forty years in age, Onora guessed, and with lustrous dark hair, elaborately coiffed. Her jacket and skirt were tailored well—in ivory with a subtle stripe of pink, and her hat matched perfectly, the brim angled jauntily with silk roses on one side of the crown.
Onora felt gauche in comparison, though she’d found her yellow costume pretty enough whenClodagh had helped her dress earlier.
Virginie made polite conversation, asking how Onora’s aunt was enjoying her travels, and what they thought of Shepheard’s. Her comments were both insightful and wry so that Onora found herself laughing at her companion’s impish sense of humor.
