Epilogue
Evening, at an encampment within the south-eastern area of the Valley of the Kings
Three and a half years later…
Onora closed her notebook and stretched her neck.
She’d been sketching a record of the decorative pot fragments they’d unearthed.
Doing so hunched over by lamplight wasn’t the easiest task, though it was certainly more comfortable doing so out of her restrictive day clothes.
She’d taken to putting on a loose robe in the evenings, very much in the local style.
They’d been systematically excavating all season, and they were onto something; she felt it in her bones. There were tombs, waiting to be discovered. That thought was both terrifying and thrilling, but she trusted in her purpose—even if she would need to take a hiatus for a while.
She’d been saved that night so that she might be here now, alongside the man she loved.
And he’d been saved too.
Fellaheen had come from far and wide to help in digging out the temple, with Flinders himself travelling up to supervise the effort and bringing his own men.
It had taken three weeks before the site was deemed secure enough to allow anyone to venture within, whereupon Kareem and Hassan had volunteered to be the first to enter.
They’d emerged with the news all expected: there were no survivors.
No sign either of lock or chain, nor of the scarab ornamentations Onora knew the others had been wearing. She might, or might not, have seen Kareem take out the rowboat at dusk with a small bundle discreetly hidden.
Of the men and women entombed, six had been shot, the gun found beside Seton. What had occurred, none could guess at. Mr. Petrie did all in his power to suppress the details, scandalous as they were. The unfortunates were transported to Cairo, there to make their final rest.
However much Onora wished to bury those memories, some still plagued her, though the insistent, compelling voice had departed that night, banished with the storm.
Thankfully all at the villa were safe and, without exception, appeared relieved to be released from their duties.
Jack had distributed coin from Seton’s room, making sure they were recompensed, and Onora had insisted they take any provisions and livestock with them, though the property itself fell to the ownership of some distant cousin of Seton’s, who took on the title.
The guests’ belongings had been packed into their trunks and sent on to Cairo to the respective embassies, via Seton’s dahabeya, in the care of Tariq.
Most kindly, Mr. Petrie had brought her to his camp, staying under his protection at the expedition house where his wife took her under her wing.
Meanwhile, Mr. Petrie hadn’t hesitated in offering Jack a paid position.
By the time Flinders and Hilda set off to their next project, excavating at Koptos, Onora was very sad to be parted from them.
“A letter for you, Mrs. Balfour.” The tent flap moved aside, and Jack stepped in, waving an envelope.
Pushing aside those melancholy thoughts, she greeted him with a kiss.
The handwriting was familiar—that of her aunt—and directed to the Winter Palace Hotel, in nearby Luxor.
Jack had been over there today, to collect their mail and send some telegrams, as well as collecting some much-needed supplies.
“What’s the news?” Having shrugged off his jacket, he sat upon the bed and began unlacing his boots.
Onora scanned through. “Clodagh sends love. Maeve is feeling so much better, they’re planning a trip to Lyme Regis as soon as the weather is clement.
Maeve liked to hunt for fossils in her youth and has a fancy to retread her steps.
The best finds tend to come after winter storms, so she’s hopeful of success.
She’s promised to gift you the first ammonite she lays hands on. ”
Jack let out a low whistle. “Good for her. Never too late for adventure, eh?”
“They’re looking forward to seeing us when we return at the end of April.” Onora smiled at him over the sheaf of paper.
“I’m sure they are, though they may rethink that in a few months’ time.” Jack beckoned her to come and sit beside him. He nuzzled her neck while she read through the rest.
They hadn’t yet shared their news; that two would soon become three, and that they’d be staying a good deal longer in Oxford, beyond the summer. As keen as Onora was to return to their dig site, a respite would be necessary.
Her aunts would be delighted, having her and the baby in residence for a while. Jack had arranged some work at one of the colleges, and they’d visit his parents in London, of course.
At some point she’d have to let Jack return without her, since the granting of the firman over the site stipulated that it shouldn’t be left unattended for longer than one season.
Once the baby was toddling, she hoped they could both make the journey, but she knew her aunts would happily supervise for several months at a time, if she decided to join her husband without the little one, at least for part of each season.
The decision would be a hard one, leaving a child so precious to them both, but the season only lasted from October to April. A compromise was possible and, before too long, their son or daughter would be able to travel with them fully.
As I did with my parents.
She turned to rub her nose against Jack’s.
“Time for bed?”
With a murmur of assent, he slid his palm over her rounded belly.
Soon they lay naked beneath the sheets, and she gave herself over to this part of their loving. Her desire was as strong as ever, with no taint of fear. They coaxed one another to peaks of pleasure until she clung breathless, and he surrendered at last, pulsing, enveloped by her warmth.
When she slept, she dreamt she was a child again, running across the sand to her father. He raised her up, carrying her, safe, and when she woke, Jack’s arms were around her.
It was a good feeling.