Page 23 of The Stolen Queen

Charlotte

Egypt, 1937

Charlotte wore the one nice dress she’d brought with her from New York for her wedding to Henry, which took place in the salon of the Metropolitan House. There had been a surprising number of dinner parties thrown by the various excavation teams working in and around Luxor over the past month, which meant by now her frock was looking quite tired—the neckline frayed and a few drops of red wine staining the hem—but she didn’t have much of a choice. It was either that or her breeches.

Henry had insisted they marry as soon as the French doctor summoned by Mr. Zimmerman, at Charlotte’s request, confirmed the pregnancy. They’d planned on performing the ceremony on the veranda, but a sandstorm had whipped up at the last minute, so instead everyone crowded in the salon, the air oppressive and the champagne warm. The members of the dig team knew what was going on, of course, and she was annoyed by the stolen glances at her belly, the jovial slaps on the back the other archaeologists kept giving Henry,as if she were one of Ramses II’s concubines carrying the heir to the throne.

As the party carried on late into the evening, she retreated to a chair on the dark veranda. So far, being pregnant didn’t feel any different from before. She wasn’t sick in the mornings, she ate just as voraciously, and her stomach was still flat. But she was no longer allowed to excavate or explore, only to document the artifacts uncovered by the other members of the team. Leon was thrilled, she was sure, to have his competition sidelined. Although she’d never admit it to Henry, a part of her couldn’t help but resent this tiny creature who was getting in the way of her reason for coming to Egypt in the first place.

Mr. Zimmerman had already offered Henry a position at the Met when they got back to the States. But she knew he would miss Egypt as much as she would. The only comfort, although it certainly was a selfish one, was that it wasn’t just Charlotte and Henry who were leaving. The entire American team was pulling out of Egypt and heading home at the end of the month. The French and Polish crews staying on would be the recipients of the spoils instead.

“Are you feeling all right?”

Mr. Zimmerman spoke from the doorway where light spilled around his silhouette.

“Just fine,” she said, begrudging the fact that she was now considered a delicate female as opposed to one of the crew.

Mr. Zimmerman took a seat in one of the rocking chairs, sand crunching underneath the runners. “I’m glad you and Henry found each other. My wife was a huge help to me in the field.”

“I don’t want to be a help.” She knew she sounded churlish, but couldn’t stay quiet. “I want to be an archaeologist.”

“You’re already one, in my book. You’ve got great instincts, and you’re smarter than anyone else out there. Your time will come, I promise.”

“Did you and your wife ever have children?”

He shook his head. “We put it off, and then she passed away. My one regret.”

“I’m so sorry.” All her pique vanished. She was lucky in so many ways. Lucky to have Henry by her side; lucky to be having a baby, even if it was a surprise.

“Will you be going back to school when you return?” asked Mr. Zimmerman.

“I’m hoping I can get through one more semester, but after the baby comes in the summer, I’ll have to drop out anyway, so I don’t know if it’s even worth it.”

“You’ll figure it out. You have many years ahead of you.”

Many years as a wife and mother. She trusted Henry and knew he’d do everything possible to take care of their family, but what would she have to offer at the end of the day, other than a list of the baby’s latest achievements? Would she be able to hear all about Henry’s work at the Met without feeling some resentment? Lately, Henry had been distracted, probably due to the stress of having a wife and baby thrust upon him. Charlotte loved him dearly, and was certain he felt the same, but wished they’d had a little more time just the two of them before facing parenthood.

It was hard to tell how old Mr. Zimmerman was; his face was etched with wrinkles from the blazing desert sun. He’d been a brilliant teacher and guide to Charlotte the last few months. “Henry is so grateful for the job at the Met. Thank you again for that.”

“If it means I’ll be seeing you at gallery openings and staff dinners, it is well worth it. Don’t fret, Charlotte. I’ll be keeping my eye on you; don’t think I’ll let you off the hook so easily.”

Charlotte’s heart warmed. Maybe all was not lost. Maybe there would be a way to make this work, just not as quickly as she’d like.

Mr. Zimmerman shifted in his chair. “I was sorry to hear Henryturned down the offer from the Polish team. Of course it’s understandable, under the circumstances. However, I promise I’ll keep him busy in New York.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The overseer position.” Mr. Zimmerman paused. “Didn’t he tell you?”

That explained Henry’s mood. He’d been given the opportunity to stay on, keep working, finish the fieldwork required for his degree. And he’d not bothered to tell her.

She smothered her confusion under a wide smile. “Of course, I’d forgotten. No, we’re very excited for New York, both of us.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the offer?”

The wedding reception finally wound down around three in the morning, and Charlotte and Henry had retreated to their quarters. She hated that they were spending their first night as a married couple arguing, but there was no way she could make love with Henry and pretend everything was all right.

“Because it didn’t matter either way.” Henry’s eyes were bloodshot, and he swayed slightly as he took off his linen suit jacket. “We’re going back to New York.”

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