It will probably be remembered as the most significant period in British history. Great Inventors gave us amazing devices like Babbage's numerator, Engineers like Isambard Kingdom Brunel constructed viaducts and bridges on a scale that would have made the Pharaohs jealous and literary geniuses like Jayne Eyre and Jules Verne stole our hearts and took us to places beyond our imagination. Britannia ruled the waves and the sun never set on the British Empire. It was a golden era and for those of us in the upper classes one of boundless optimism. There was nothing that could not be achieved and even though women were not normally anything other than wives and daughters we had Queen Victoria. She was a shining example to women everywhere of how commanding we could be and everyone practically worshipped her.
I was not only lucky to be born to wealth but to a father that liked my involvement in his life's work. We traveled around the globe, unearthing artifacts and exploring tombs even when I was little more than a child. Before I was born Mother would accompany him and assisted with his lectures at the Royal Society. After I arrived Father took up a fellowship at Oxford for almost ten years before the lure of parts unknown was irresistible. Mother gave me a journal to record our adventures and I faithfully put pen to paper to describe the marvels we encountered. A turning point in my life came when we were cataloguing the artifacts of the temple of Angkor Wat in the deepest jungles of Indo China.
Poor Mother succumbed to a strain of malaria, for which our supply of quinine could do nothing. Both Father and I threw ourselves into our work after that. Had it not been for the diversions offered by our work then we might have gone insane. I grew closer to Father and became something of a Tom Boy, dressing in jodhpurs, sun helmet and carrying a pistol. Not quite the formal attire expected of the daughter of the Earl of Tredegar. I did return to more fitting dress whenever we were in England and the fashion of a plunging neckline and bustle saw many a young suitor become tiresome to me. Whilst in London we attended dinners and parties of the well to do but my mind was on other things. I ached for a new adventure and tired of roast pheasant and gossip.
One such occasion was a typical boring evening at the Lord Mayor's residence in Kensington. The only difference to the normal routine of socializing was that Father had received the Knight's Order of the Bath from her majesty that morning. I was proud of Father when he was knighted. He told me that I had done just as much work as he had and so should have been kneeling beside him. I minded a little I will admit but it was enough that he got what he deserved. I accepted that there was no avenue for recognizing the achievements of women, even though I found it displeasing. The chatter, as we mingled, glasses of sherry in hand, was the usual form. The women spoke of fashion, the young men of horses (often describing stallions in such great detail that I fancy they were trying to suggest themselves) and the older men of cigars and port.
I did, however, overhear a conversation between two ageing peers. They had been lifelong friends and found the area of science that Father and I engaged in most intriguing and longed to continue their edification by funding some expeditions. I kept my tongue that evening for I knew they were not the type of gentlemen to pay court to the thoughts of a woman. Instead I spoke to Father and pleaded with him to at least entreat divulgence of what exactly they had planned. It was not as if their money was paramount to the success of any expedition as Father had more than enough wealth to spare for our adventures. What mattered was that their patronage would bring accolades and better still, if they had a good idea, one that no one had ever thought of then it could make my Father a legend and no greater reward for a life's work could I imagine.
Father was not as impressed as I when he learnt of their idea. They disagreed about the existence of certain myths and legends and wanted us to investigate three of them. It was by way of a wager between the two gentlemen, since they disagreed on all three, that whoever was right the most times would win. Father thought the notion ludicrous and a frivolous waste of his time. I, on the other hand, found the opportunity too good to pass up as if even one myth was proven by Father then it would be the making of him. He would become a household name for centuries to come. I set out to persuade him and eventually a daughter's well-practiced petulance and tears won the day.
Our first expedition was a fruitless one. We endured the hardships of the Congo in search of the White Queen and found little more than primitive tribes. There was not even any temples or ancient artifacts to prove the existence of a defunct civilization. Father was not disappointed as he had expected nothing from our investigation but we would both have liked to have at least something new to walk away with. Our second was more fruitful, though ultimately a failure, and was full of adventure. The fabled King Solomon's mines were our quarries and for that we traveled extensively around the Middle East and North Africa.
At one point we were attacked by Berber tribesmen and all looked lost. Father shot away with his Martini Henry rifle and I with my trusted side arm but our bearers fell around us as our cause looked ever increasingly doomed. Then over the hill came a surge of scarlet jackets sat astride magnificent steeds. Their steel glinted in the mid afternoon sun and nothing more glorious than the Queen's Own Heavy Cavalry coming to one's rescue could be imagined. The tribesmen's rifles found no targets, the crack of each round impotently sounding out as the thunder of hooves drew closer.
Most fled rather than engage hand to hand, but a few brave souls did and paid dearly for their valor. The sound of steel against steel competed with the cries of mortally wounded men as a short battle ensued. As the wounded Arabs limped away to lick their wounds a dashing young lieutenant cantered up and stopped before us. I must have looked a frightful mess. My sun helmet lay on the floor and my hair was an unflattering tangled mess. Grease and powder stained my face and my blouse was torn. I was most annoyed that smoke had caused my eyes to well up and so it looked as though I had been crying. "Sir, Miss. My compliments. Lieutenant Richard Hallworth at your service. If you would do me the honor of accepting dinner at our encampment I would dearly love to ask what you are doing in the middle of our little war but for the meantime I think it best you accept our protection and leave before our friends return."
