Amanda Grange & Jacqueline Webb Read Online Free Page B

mysterious and somewhat eerie. A few candles guttered on the bare walls and for a moment Elizabeth felt herself overcome with a sense of foreboding. The fact that there were no visitors in this particular room made it seem more sinister.
    â€œThere you are, Margaret,” she heard Beth say.
    She turned to see her youngest daughter staring at a set of painted friezes in the corner of the chamber. The little girl’s eyes were set in enchanted wonder.
    â€œWhat is it, my love?” Elizabeth asked, smiling, as she walked across to join both girls.
    â€œLook, Mama. Margaret has found some pictures. Aren’t they unusual?” Beth replied.
    Elizabeth examined the pictures. They were set into a thick wooden board which had been propped up rather haphazardly against the wall. There were only six pictures, although it looked as though there was space for several more. Each picture was of the same figure, that of a woman with elongated eyes and generously curved body. But she was clearly not a sympathetic character. In every picture she was pictured surrounded by tiny corpses at her feet, who had obviously not died of natural causes.
    â€œOh, Beth, how gruesome…” Elizabeth began, but another voice interrupted her.
    â€œAh, early visitors to my femme fatale .”
    They all turned to see a man in his midfifties looking at them. He wore tightly fitting breeches, a long tailcoat cut away to show a rather faded waistcoat of cream brocade, and his cravat had been inexpertly tied. But his hair was his own, a faded brown with grey sideburns, and he smiled at them with merry eyes.
    â€œGood day to you, sir,” said Elizabeth, while Beth and Margaret curtsied formally. “My daughters and I seem to have strayed into an unfinished exhibit room.”
    â€œUnfinished and likely to remain so, madam,” said the gentleman. “I donated these artefacts to the museum and intended to fill the room with antiquities, but my sponsors have lost their appetite for the venture. Can’t say as I blame them, really. The minx in the picture isn’t the best advertisement for inspiring the imagination of the British public. But I took a fancy to her story while I was in Egypt and picked up this little trinket in a bazaar in Cairo.”
    â€œYou have been to Egypt?” Beth said with interest.
    The gentleman smiled at her.
    â€œI have, my dear, many times, for pleasure and in the pursuit of academic interests. It is a fascinating place.”
    Elizabeth said, “You are making us very envious, Mr.…?”
    â€œRosen, madam,” he said, tipping his top hat. “Sir Matthew Rosen.”
    â€œSir Matthew, it is a pleasure to meet you,” said Elizabeth, taking the introduction upon herself. “I am Mrs Fitzwilliam Darcy and these are my daughters Beth and Margaret.”
    â€œEnchanted. And what do you ladies think of my Egyptian lady? I admit to a certain doomed attraction for her, although I strongly suspect her story is no more than the figment of some wily souk keeper’s imagination in order to sell a worthless bauble to a Western souvenir hunter.”
    He smiled as he said this, and Elizabeth laughed.
    â€œShe is certainly very wicked if these images are anything to go by.”
    â€œShe wasn’t very happy,” said Margaret, speaking for the first time.
    Sir Matthew looked at her curiously.
    â€œWhat makes you say that, my dear?”
    â€œBecause it’s true. People were mean to Aahotep, so she was mean back.”
    Now Sir Matthew looked at her in frank surprise. “However did you know that?”
    â€œMy daughter has a vivid imagination,” said Elizabeth with a smile.
    â€œAnd your lady looks like the doll Cousin Edward gave her, doesn’t she? Look,” said Beth, taking Margaret’s hand and revealing the doll.
    Elizabeth glanced at the wooden toy in Margaret’s hand and noticed that it did bear a striking resemblance to