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Darcy.
    â€œWe can at least ask him,” said Elizabeth. “It would be an adventure for him, and I think he is in need of an adventure. He is very thin and pale, poor man; he has obviously spent too many hours sitting in a studio. Some sunshine is just what he needs. It would improve his nerves too, I am convinced of it.”
    â€œMy dear wife, you are incorrigible,” said Darcy.
    â€œAlas, dear husband, I am. I will write to him and suggest the idea at once,” said Elizabeth.
    As she went over to her writing table, she had a brilliant vision of Darcy and herself standing in the middle of a glorious Egyptian painting, with their children seated in front of them. She imagined the girls in pristine white dresses and the boys looking immaculate in coats and breeches, surrounded by golden sand dunes. Then the impossibly perfect picture dissolved as her lively mind provided her with a more realistic picture: Laurence and Jane running about, Margaret sucking her thumb, and a camel eating the flowers on Beth’s bonnet. Elizabeth laughed at herself then sat down at her desk, and taking up a quill pen, she started to write.
    Darcy and Edward excused themselves. Edward went upstairs, while Darcy called for the carriage and set out for his club. He knew that Lord Potheroe would be there, and as Potheroe had travelled to Egypt the preceding year with his wife, Darcy wanted his advice.
    As the carriage rattled through the streets, he felt his own excitement stirring. He had been deprived of a Grand Tour in his youth because of the Napoleonic Wars, which had ravaged Europe and made travel through France and Italy impossible. It had been a great disappointment to him at the time because as a boy he had listened avidly to his father’s tales of Paris and Venice, and he had longed to see them for himself. And not only Paris and Venice. His father, in common with Edward’s father and other young men of their generation, had extended his Grand Tour to include Greece, Turkey, and Egypt as well. Indeed, one of their friends, Lord Sandwich, had been so enthusiastic about these far-flung places that he had founded the Egyptian Society, opening it to any gentleman who had been in Egypt, and Darcy’s father had joined.
    It had been a disappointment to Darcy that he had never been able to do the same, but now his chance had arrived. The only thing troubling him was the fact that his father had suffered from various illnesses while in Egypt, and the whole adventure had weakened his constitution. There was no doubt that his Egyptian adventure had contributed to his early death, leaving Darcy an orphan at the age of twenty-two and Georgiana an orphan at the tender age of ten. Darcy did not want to expose himself, or his family, to the same evils, and he meant to take every precaution.
    The carriage rolled to a halt. He descended to the pavement, drawing admiring looks from passersby, and went into the club.
    As he had hoped, Potheroe was in his usual seat by the window.
    â€œDarcy!” he said, rising, as he saw his old friend. “Join me.”
    â€œI would be happy to,” said Darcy.
    He sat down and ordered a drink, and the two men exchanged pleasantries.
    â€œWhat are you doing in London?” asked Potheroe.
    â€œWe have been down to Kent to visit my aunt, Lady Catherine, and we decided to spend some time in London on our way back to Derbyshire.”
    â€œThey are all well in Kent, I hope? Anne and her children are thriving?”
    â€œYes, I thank you.”
    â€œSo when are you returning to Pemberley?” asked Potheroe, as the waiter brought Darcy his drink.
    â€œNot for some time,” said Darcy. “There has been a change of plan. And that leads me to the reason for my being here. I came especially to see you.”
    â€œMy dear boy, I did not know I was such a draw!” said Potheroe, laughing.
    Darcy smiled and then said, “It is not so much you, as your experiences.