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A Creature from the River

Of all the creatures Lady Helen Tennison expected to see on the banks of a river leading to the Nile, a crocodile was not one of them.

Nor was her baby brother, who at the moment seemed intent on becoming said crocodile’s breakfast. How had he managed to escape their guide’s tent and toddle all the way to the water’s edge was a mystery she wasn’t prepared to solve just then.

“Bradley!” she cried out, racing to scoop up the boy from the bank of the river. If she’d had the breath, she would have cursed the bell skirt of her gown, for when she was attempting to escape with her brother under her arm, she nearly lost its hem in the jaws of the dark green creature.

“Oh!” her mother cried out in shock, joining her to assist with the babe.

Right behind her was Harold Tennison, Earl of Everly, holding a pistol in one hand.

He stopped short and was in the process of aiming it at the crocodile when the beast determined it was outnumbered.

It turned with great haste and slipped back into the dark water before Harry could get off a shot.

He lowered the weapon and let out his breath in a whoosh .

He turned to see his wife and daughter still racing away from the bank of the river, his spare heir’s arms gripped between them so the poor boy was dangling nearly a foot above the ground.

His own shoulders spasmed at the thought of what Bradley’s were experiencing at that moment.

He allowed a sigh of frustration.

Nothing about this trip to Egypt was going quite as he had expected.

A quarter of a century ago, before he was married and the father of three, he had been able to go on expeditions all over Europe and in the Mediterranean to search for unusual fish and plants, or to research trees and birds, his only concern his own well-being.

With his heir, Alexander, now married and safely back in London with his new wife, Margaret, Harry had thought he might resume his worldly treks—even if his half-Greek countess had recently bestowed him with another son.

The boisterous boy didn’t seem to understand the concept of his status as the “spare heir”—this wasn’t the first time he seemed determined to commit suicide—but then he was barely a year old.

“That was entirely too close,” Helen huffed, when she managed to reach the area where their dragoman was cooking their breakfast on an open fire.

While Nabil had slept in the tent, they had spent the night in a nearby house, the surrounding area shaded by the leaves of banana trees.

Their breakfast was to include several of the sweet yellow fruits.

“What was that?” Stella asked, taking her son into her arms. He settled onto her hip, his grin making it apparent he had no idea how close he had come to death-by-reptile.

“A crocodile,” Harry replied. “They are…”

“Quite a nuisance,” Nabil remarked. He was perched on a boulder that might have at one time been part of a nearby temple, a map spread out before him. “It’s best you stay away from the riverbank whilst you are dining.”

Helen glanced at the blanket her mother had spread out on the ground, half-eaten foodstuffs strewn about, some in the shade of a parasol she had planted into the ground. Not far away was the edge of the desert, its slightly reddish cast due to the morning light.

About to say, “Do tell,” Helen couldn’t when her mother pulled her into an embrace.

“Thank you, darling. I never would have reached him in time,” Stella murmured. “Last I saw, he was asleep.”

Bradley joined in the hug, his happy babbling at odds with his mother’s terror.

“You’re welcome,” Helen replied, grinning down at her brother. “It was not as if I was going to let that awful thing take him,” she added. Turning her attention to her father, she asked, “Were you thinking to add one of those to the aquarium in your study?”

Harry barked a laugh. “No, even though the young ones are quite small,” he replied. “I do not think they would suit.”

“Small?” she repeated in disbelief.

He pointed to Bradley. “Smaller than him,” he said.

“Our son is far larger than most babes his age,” Stella remarked. Her breathing had finally returned to normal, but the way her blonde brows puckered, Helen knew she was wishing she had remained at their townhouse in London.

Helen wasn’t, though. Despite the momentary fright, she had been enjoying the trip up the Nile Delta from the Mediterranean. Every day she awoke to new sights. Water buffalo, strange birds, and the ruins of ancient temples lined the banks of the river that provided Egyptians with the means to live.

When her father had announced his intentions to take them to Egypt, she had imagined desert sands for as far as the eye could see.

Dunes dotted with giant pyramids and camels, Arabian horses and caravans.

The greenery along this part of the Nile—and indeed the entire Delta—had been unexpected.

Now that they were finally camped along the bank of the Nile—the source of the various waterways that had helped create the delta—Helen was beginning to understand why the river had been so important to the ancient Egyptians.

Why it was apparently still so important.

Everything happened close to the river. Everyone lived near the river.

Contrary to what she had believed, Egyptians weren’t desert dwellers. They grew crops and tended their animals and homes all within a mile of the water.

She had also imagined heat so intense, she would feel wilted before their daily luncheon. Instead, the weather had been particularly kind to their small party. She had even been forced to wear a shawl during dinner, for when the sun dipped below the horizon, the night air grew cool.

The following day, they were to arrive in Cairo to see the pyramids and the head of a sphinx at Giza.

“Nabil says we will reach Cairo later today,” Harry said, stowing the pistol in a trunk. “We can expect to find accommodations there.”

“A real bed?” Helen asked, her eyes betraying her dislike of the cots in which they had been sleeping for the past few nights, tents of mosquito netting protecting them from the biting insects.

Nabil chuckled. “Real beds,” he affirmed. “Good food. Ancient pyramids.”

Helen grinned. “I can hardly wait,” she said. “I look forward to whatever we discover.”

Glad to hear his daughter was amenable to what was to come, Harry took his son into his arms and hoisted him over his head.

Bradley giggled in delight. “You and your sister are the very best travelers,” he said, aiming an apologetic glance at his wife.

Stella merely shrugged. “I knew what to expect,” she said.

Helen studied her mother for a moment, realizing she spoke the truth. Even though Estelle Jones Tennison, Countess of Everly, was the daughter of a duke, she had spent most of her youth on an island in the Aegean Sea, far from the luxury of Mayfair.

Although Helen didn’t expect to miss the creature comforts of the Everly townhouse, she was looking forward to spending some nights in a building with real walls and a real bed.

She didn’t want her sleep interrupted by a hungry creature.