Sekhemkhet's Promise Pt. 03

Hi everyone! Thank you so much for 62 followers, that means so much to me!!! As a celebration, here is another instalment of Sekhemkhet. If you're new here, please note that the series starts with Sekhemkhet's Curse, then it's Sekhemkhet's Promise (part one and two) and this is the newest addition, Sekhemkhet's Promise Part Three. I know where the story is going after this and I don't think there will be too many more chapters before a conclusion is reached (probably about 2 or 3).

As always, please leave a comment and let me know what you think! There's nothing I love more than hearing from you, it keeps me writing : ) Thanks for reading! Xox

Ps, hope you like love triangles ;)

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Contrary to what Anabeth had thought would happen, Sekhemkhet left the room almost immediately after she had agreed. Apparently, the real decisions would be made over the coming weeks, after a considerable amount of debate.

There was a lot that Anabeth didn't understand but that had to be discussed. The legalities of who owned the artefacts -- Sekhemkhet and his family or the country of Egypt and, therefore, the British -- who had to pay for the shipping of the artefacts, how the artefacts should be handled, which artefacts could travel, and which had to remain, the list went on. Anabeth excused herself after an hour of listening to agendas being made. They hadn't actually begun any discussions -- there was so much to cover that it required a meeting just to plan.

In all honestly Beth had found herself wandering the halls of the museum in the hopes that she would be lured to a quiet room again, but it didn't happen. It was clear that he would be deciding when and where they were to see each other in spite of what she may have wanted.

A further thirty minutes later, Mr Banks found Anabeth on one of the benches just inside the great hall, watching the visitors come in and out.

"I'll have to write to your father as soon as we return to Lord Darnley's home," Mr Banks informed her, pulling a cigarette from the inside pocket of his jacket. Anabeth hummed a reply, noticing that Mr Banks made no attempt to light the cigarette, he just fiddled with it.

"Why did Akhenaten call you Henutsen?" Mr Banks asked, after a brief silence.

"Strange, wasn't it? I can't imagine," Anabeth answered, attempting to seem uninterested. In reality she was becoming terribly aware that Mr Banks was more than he seemed on the surface. Nothing got past this man, and she was beginning to wonder how much her father was paying him to accompany her.

"So, you understand Arabic?" Mr Banks frowned, shocking Anabeth.

"I understand bits and pieces. I mostly just picked up the name because I knew it from reading about Sekhemkhet. Interesting story really, and not one known by many. I didn't realise that he was calling me Henutsen, by he was looking at me when he said it. I thought it was facetious to be perfectly frank." She was babbling but she couldn't help herself. How was she to explain that she could only understand Arabic when Sekhemkhet spoke it? When she'd first come off the train and the men had crowded them, she'd had no idea what they were shouting.

"I just wanted to make sure you know what you're doing," Mr Banks looked at her with all the tenderness of a father looking at his youngest daughter. "I have no doubt that this is a wonderful opportunity for a young woman such as yourself -- exciting to see a bit of the world and such. But it all comes at a cost, Miss Brightbury. Unfortunately, ambitious women aren't in demand in the courting world of England."

"You sound like my mother," Beth smiled in an attempt to thank Mr Banks. She wouldn't say the words aloud, but she hoped he heard them all the same. Thank you for looking out for my best interests, but no. I'd rather have a few years of fabulous adventure than a lifetime of sordid, 'suitable' marriage.

All in all, it took two weeks for the decisions to be finalised. Two long weeks for Anabeth, spending her days wandering the museum, or staying with Lady Darnley. The latter had only happened twice. The first time she had assumed it had just been a bad experience. Lady Darnley had had friends over for afternoon tea and a game of cards, but she made no effort to introduce Beth to any of the ladies (all of whom had looked at her as though she were one of the artefacts up for debate). Eventually Beth made her excuses and returned to her room where she read for most of the day. However, the second time showed no improvement. When Beth had joined Lady Darnley for breakfast, she had managed to find out that the Lady was going into town to buy sewing supplies. Beth had eagerly agreed to join her, but in the time it took her to go upstairs and change into something more suitable, Lady Darnley had left. After that Beth had Peter collect her in the morning so she could at least have some amicable company for a part of the day.

The real trouble that Anabeth found was the lack of a certain now-living-male. Too often she found herself late at night with her fingers slipping into her heat. She played and massaged and fantasised all she could, but it held no great pleasure for her. She had no word from him, which was infuriating to such a degree that she had lost her wits one day in one of the quieter wings of the museum.

Anabeth had looked around her to make sure she was alone. There was a definite breeze in this room that there hadn't been in any of the others and she was beginning to wonder if it was the same breeze that she had felt on her balcony. Could it be Sekhemkhet? She wondered.

And so, she did the only logical thing she could think of.

"Sekhemkhet?" She called out, her eyes closed, he fingers spread to feel the breeze running through them.

"No, I believe that is a picture of Ramses the third," a voice came from behind her. It was a woman, perhaps Egyptian, though wearing what seemed to be Parisian clothing. Her face was beautiful; well defined with high cheek bones and big brown eyes, her dark hair pinned up, framing her face. Anabeth felt small beside her. The woman was rich, Beth could tell from her clothing, but there was more than that. There was an air of sophisticated confidence about her that only came from being raised in a family with power.

"Oh," Anabeth turned from the woman to look at the painting in front of her. She was correct, though there was no inscription underneath. "I'm sure you're right," Beth laughed lightly. "I know so little about the history of Pharaohs."

"I can tell," the woman walked to stand beside Beth, moving with such grace it was almost cat-like. Her voice oozed superiority. Beth had never felt so small. "You're about fifteen hundred years off."

Anabeth smiled again before excusing herself. She had wanted to shout that she knew that. She knew who Ramses the third was and who his children were and that, actually, she had a wonderful knowledge of the history of Pharos. But that would have been pathetic. So instead she was left to feel foolish and more than a little shocked. That woman had appeared from nowhere, she was certain of it. Will anything ever just be simple again? She thought, shaking her head as she made her way to the main hall. She noticed the breeze she had felt had stopped as well.

During the second week she was asked by Peter to attend the meeting.

"It has been brought to our attention," Peter began as they sat around the table in the same room as before. There were far less people here today, Anabeth noted. It was just Peter, Sekhemkhet, Mr Banks, Anabeth and Karim. "That we must make alternative living arrangements for your stay in Egypt, miss Brightbury."

"What do you mean?" Beth asked, frowning slightly. Her mind was elsewhere, if she were being honest. Sekhemkhet hadn't yet looked at her. He hadn't spoken to her or acknowledged her in any capacity. What was the issue?

"Well," Peter laughed heartily, "it would be unkind to ask the Darnley's to house you for six months!" Anabeth smiled, understanding where this was going.

"Of course," Beth replied, sitting straighter. "So, I am to be thrust upon some other poor family every few weeks, is that it?" She could think of nothing worse than having to make pleasantries with strangers and sleeping in new beds every fortnight. A hotel would be out of the question -- there were few establishments suitable for a single woman travelling without her family in these parts. No, it would be a case of acting the cheery house guest until she could return home.

"No," Karim smiled at Beth. He seemed a lovely man -- attentive and kind. "I beg your pardon for interrupting Miss Brightbury, however we thought you might be more comfortable in, shall we say, more long-term accommodation?"

In the next few hours it was settled that after the grand opening of the exhibit, Anabeth would be moved to her own house -- a large villa, not too far from the museum, but far enough that she wouldn't have to worry about the threats of the cities. Mr Banks would stay with her, of course, and she would be host to British visitors to the museum. It would give her something to do when Akhenaten didn't need her assistance.

He still did not acknowledge her.

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It all changed on the twelfth day when the Darnley's received an invitation to the opening of the exhibit at the museum. Anabeth woke that day to a knocking at the door of her bedroom.

Lord Darnley stood, holding a thick, cream envelope. "Good morning," his smile was tight.

"Good morning," Anabeth replied, trying her hardest not to yawn. It seemed that no matter how much sleep she got she was always exhausted. Or perhaps the issue was that she had been sleeping too much?

"We have received an invitation to the opening of the exhibit," Lord Darnley gestured to the letter, but made no attempt to hand it to Anabeth.

"May I read it?" Anabeth requested after a short, though entirely awkward pause.

Darnley hesitated before handing it over, refusing to make eye contact. Beth understood why immediately.

"Lord Darnley, this is addressed to me. Only me," Anabeth stared at him.

Darnley coughed into his fist. "Yes, well. My wife may have opened it by accident this morning. I can only apologise."

Beth was sure that there was nothing accidental about this breech in privacy, though she chose not to comment on it. The invitation was simple -- black ink in clear, precise handwriting. It stated the time and date of the event as well as the formal dress code. There was no hint at a personalised message -- no sign of Sekhemkhet anywhere on it.

"Have you been invited yet?" Anabeth asked Lord Darnley.

"Yes, we received our invitation at the same time."

"And yet your wife still opened mine? Curious," Beth smiled tightly before stepping back to close the door, though Darnley stopped her before it latched.

"A little more notice would not have gone amiss; with the invitations I mean. But it should still be a splendid evening." He noted, pushing the door open again. Anabeth looked down -- he was right. The invitation was dated for only a week from today. "You will be wanting to be fitted for a new dress?"

"Oh, yes, I suppose I will. I hadn't thought about that." With the time restraints it would be a triumph if she didn't have to wear one of the curtains fashioned together.

Darnley smiled as though he had trumped her in some way. "My wife will be heading into town today to be fitted by her regular seamstress. Wonderful woman -- moved here from Paris. I'm sure she'd enjoy the company?"

Anabeth's smile became strained. She made a non-committal noise before closing the door again. Over my dead body, she thought, throwing the invitation on the dresser.

In the end, Anabeth had to have a seamstress come to the Darnley's home to be fitted, there was no time for anything else. Mr Banks had to attend the meeting to give as much advice as he could offer, which was relatively little.

Beth would have given anything to be able to ask Sekhemkhet what he thought. Would he like the dress, or was it too British? What would he be wearing? Why hadn't he spoken to her in so long?

On the night of the opening Anabeth didn't really look like herself. Her hair was a tumble of curls on her head, kept in place with more pins than she had ever used before. Some loose light brown curls fell artfully, curling at the nape of her neck. Beth smiled. Her mother would have marched her right back to her room and sewn the hair back to Beth's head if she'd dared to try to leave like this in England. She already knew it was the little freedoms that she was going to enjoy the most over the next few months.

Swaying her hips, she watched her dress move in the mirror. Her dress was really not currently in fashion, however the high necked, stuffy and heavy dresses that women were always wearing were not to her taste. She had no choice but to wear them during the day, but no one had been monitoring her dress selection for tonight. Instead she had chosen a pale pink, silky dress, with gold embroidery climbing up the hem to the corset, engulfing the material in ornate flowers. There were no sleeves, just soft material that draped across her upper arms from the neckline of the corset, which was stopped just above her breasts, leaving her chest and shoulders bare. She was borderline indecent, but she felt like a Goddess.

Lady Darnley scrunched her nose and screwed her mouth up when she saw Anabeth. "Is that really an appropriate way for a lady to dress?" Of course, Lady Darnley's dress was of the old fashion, though with the long, frilly sleeves that separated her from the younger ladies. The ruffles on her chest did nothing for her figure -- it looked as though the bottom half of her body would not be able to hold her up. She looked about as appealing as her personality was.

Lord Darnley was staring at Anabeth's breasts. She tried to take it as a compliment, but it was still a little disarming. "Shall we?" Beth asked, gesturing to the door.

"You look wonderful," Mr Banks whispered to her with a wink as she passed him on her way to the door. He was wearing a black dinner suit and looked quite dapper himself.

A motorcar was waiting for them outside. A beautiful machine -- silver and shining. It occurred to Beth that the Darnley's had upgraded for the occasion; she had been expecting a horse drawn car.

The road leading to the museum was lit with sconces, burning a bright trail to the entrance where many carriages were already waiting to unburden themselves of their guests. The people that Anabeth could see were dressed in rich colours, so different from the pale pink gown she was wearing, and she felt herself grow embarrassed.

"Did the invitation mention a dress code?" Anabeth turned to Lady Darnley. If anyone would know it would be her.

The woman sniffed gently and looked out the window. Anabeth wasn't quite sure why this woman held so much disdain for her and made little effort to conceal it. "The invitation required that the guests come formally attired. Nothing more."

Anabeth wasn't sure but turned back to the window anyway. Her invitation had disappeared from the dresser, though she wasn't sure when it had happened. Beth had assumed it was one of the staff who had moved it. Now she wasn't too sure. She just hoped she didn't stand out too much.

The sand-coloured pillars had been covered in a red silk, dangling from the ceiling in waves that gently rippled with the slightest wind. Traditional Egyptian music was playing loudly enough that it spilled through the open doors to the lit driveway.

Mr Banks helped her out of the car and offered her his arm on the way in. There were so many people that Beth began to worry she would get lost. Who are these people? She wondered.

The inside was no less grand. Silk hung from every pillar, just like outside. The marble floor had been polished to a gleaming shine and the chandelier was blazingly bright. The floor was actually quite difficult to even see; the room was so packed with guests, interspersed with artefacts in great glass cases. Anabeth gasped in delight, she had never been to such a magnificent affair. She was afraid that she would still stand out; she was the only woman in a pale colour as far as she could see. It was burgundy and rich greens, blues and black. The jewels and beads from women's dresses caught the light, throwing multicoloured beams around the room, adding to the dream-like quality.

To the front of the room stood a stage of sorts -- more of a raised platform, but high enough that Beth could see the figures upon it, even at her small height.

Of course, her eye was immediately drawn to Sekhemkhet.

He was dressed in a black and white dinner suit in the British style, minus the hat. He looked so well groomed -- his hair slicked back, so different from how he usually appeared, but still so handsome. He was smiling and talking to a man who was wearing more traditional Egyptian clothing. A small group were gathered there, none of whom were British.

Anabeth supposed that tonight was not for the colonials -- it was for the Egyptian people: a celebration to the opening of their wonderful exhibit. For some reason Beth felt neither a part of the Egyptians nor the British, despite her ties to both sides.

A flash of gold to Sekhemkhet's side caught Beth's attention.

A woman was clinging to his arm. A wave of anger shocked Beth as it passed through her: jealousy, or perhaps envy? She was gripped by possessiveness.

The woman had very long, dark hair, hanging freely down her back, though it seemed to stay in place very well. Her gown with a terrifyingly low neckline -- a V-shaped plunge which strangely showed nothing, while at the same time showing more than any lady should -- and wing-like sleeves, which fanned out when she raised her arms. A large pear-shaped Ruby dangled from a thick gold chain, sitting just at the top of her cleavage, sparkling brightly against her dark skin. She was magnificent.

Anabeth had never seen anything like it. The woman was breath-takingly beautiful and yet so scandalous that she was afraid to look at her for too long.

A few seconds was all it took for Beth to realise that she knew the woman. It was the girl from the museum, when Beth had felt what she had thought was Sekhemkhet's presence. The girl that had made her feel foolish. The girl that had looked at her like she was a dirty stain on the floor.

And she was holding arms with Sekhemkhet.

Anabeth turned back to the Darnley's and Mr Banks. She didn't want to be caught looking at their host. She didn't want him to catch her looking.

A few new people had joined the Darnley's, as well as Peter -- whom she liked less and less each time they met -- and they were greeting them in the cold, formal way that so many of the British upper-class did. Small hand gestures, barely-there smiles. It was as though most of them disliked each other (which Beth was sure they did).

There was a woman approaching behind them, though the Darnley's hadn't seen her yet. The woman was not old, though by Anabeth's standards she seemed it. She was perhaps in her early fifties -- her hair was long and perfectly silver, rather than that horrid mixture of black and white that so many ageing women tried to disguise with hats and dyes. Her eyes were bright and quick, her nose long and sharp, and her mouth seemed to perpetually be set at an angle -- curved as though she knew exactly who you were and what you had been up to, when you thought no one was looking. The best description Anabeth could think of was 'tasteful'. She was not beautiful, but she was refined. She was not graceful, but she was succinct in her movements. Her navy-blue gown was tailored wonderfully, dipping and cinching in the right places.