Comte by Candlelight 2

The next week, Victor announced, Charlotte would be joined by his sister Helena, who would accompany her to Karnak and the Valley of the Kings a fortnight hence. Though Helena was an awful cocktease and would no doubt land the both of them in trouble during the adventure, Charlotte was excited.  It had been nearly a year since her last escapade and she was desperate to get back out on the sands and see what had happened in her absence. Giovanni Caviglia had been recalled from sailing by his patron and had asked for Charlotte's advice on the dig.

Victor was in ebullient form, having been given some low rank in government out in Marie-Galante that allowed him to offset a few expenditures and to host more parties out there where the rum punch ran freely, and gifted Charlotte with a new travelling chest speckled in golden inlay that spelled out her family tree for the past five generations on one side of the lid. "My dear, there is space here, see?  Space for the names of our issue.  And my craftsman will then add my family tree to the left hand panel and the surely men will admire your chest for years to come!"  He guffawed into his porter and bade Creelze, the footman, to finish off buttoning his new collar at the back.

Charlotte was not sure when the item would become so decorated but she was certain that men she would meet on her way to Cairo, thence Karnak would admire her for more than just her chest.  She had read all there was to read about Egyptology and was even now working on her own translation of the hieroglyphics of the Rosetta stone that a friend in London had copied and sent to her.  It was a difficult nut to crack but Charlotte was an intelligent lady with a copy of Champollion's work on the enchorial.  Her father had doted on her always and had gotten her the Greek schooling she had so desired when, aged 14, she had discovered a love of literature, learning and life. She was a formidable ally as Caviglia knew well and the British were no longer concerned by French aristos treading on their turf, the wars having ended and Napoleon languishing in the far South Atlantic.