The Deception at Lyme: Or, the Peril of Persuasion (Mr. And Mrs. Darcy Mysteries) (18 page)

“He had the foresight to leave directions for the disposition of his sea chest in the event of his death.”

“Yes—ironically, into the care of the very person whom you now suspect of precipitating his demise.” She set aside the diary and came to him. “Have you considered that we have only Lieutenant St. Clair’s word that your cousin asked him to separate the sea chest from the rest of his belongings and deliver it in person?”

A coldness settled upon Darcy. “I had not. Now that you raise the point, Captain Tourner knew nothing about the request. In fact, he found it extremely unsettling when he heard of it today.”

“By taking the sea chest into his custody, Lieutenant St. Clair secured himself unrestricted access to it. Perhaps you are correct—perhaps your cousin did surrender only one of the figurines to St. Clair, and St. Clair wanted time to break into the chest for the other one.”

“The chest, however, was never broken into. It is undamaged—other than normal wear—and yet secured by the original lock. Would he not have sawed it off or taken the chest to a locksmith? He has had years in which to do so.”

“Maybe he did not need to. Maybe Lieutenant Fitzwilliam told him the combination, or maybe St. Clair figured it out. The code is not difficult to guess by someone who knows even the most superficial information about your family—your uncle’s name appears in
Debrett’s,
for heaven’s sake—and St. Clair is an intelligent man.”

“Yet we found all in order.”

“Did we? If something were missing, how would we know?”

He pondered this, first imagining Elizabeth’s hypothetical scenario, then recalling their actual encounters with St. Clair. “Whatever his intent, I do not think St. Clair ever managed to open the chest. Both here and at the tavern, he seemed very interested in its present contents—almost as if he were hoping we would invite him to examine them along with us.” Darcy wondered how he had become St. Clair’s defender; he had initiated the conversation expecting Elizabeth to assume the role of devil’s advocate.

“I think we have taken this speculation as far as we can without additional information,” she said. “We need to either ask him directly about the idols and see how he responds, or find someone with sufficient naval connections to help us investigate. Might Captain Tourner be approached?”

“I doubt any captain would speak against one of his own officers to a stranger, particularly someone outside the navy.”

“Might Captain Harville know Captain Tourner?”

“Perhaps. Or—I met Captain Wentworth today, the husband of Sir Walter Elliot’s middle daughter and a good friend of the Harvilles. Upon better acquaintance, he might be persuaded to help us.”

“Today while seabathing, Georgiana and I met another friend of the Wentworths who spoke very highly of both the captain and his wife. We will have an opportunity to become better acquainted with them quite soon—Sir Walter and Miss Elliot called this afternoon to invite us to Alfred’s christening.”

“I take it that ‘Alfred’ is the baronet’s new son?”

“Walter Alfred Henry Arthur Elliot.” Her brow furrowed. “Or is it Walter Alfred Arthur Henry?” She shrugged. “Yes, Lady Elliot’s baby—the new crown prince of the Elliot family.”

“Are we to come bearing gold, frankincense, and myrrh?”

“I think gold alone will satisfy Sir Walter, so long as it is delivered with proper homage by magi. Though perhaps he might use the frankincense to preserve himself in all his aristocratic stateliness. Miss Elliot, too.” She paused. “From the Wentworths’ friend Mrs. Smith, I received the impression that Sir Walter’s second daughter does not at all share the eldest’s demeanor. What was your sense of her husband?”

“Captain Wentworth has a manner far superior to that of the baronet. I can see why he has risen in his profession. What I cannot see is how he tolerates his new father-in-law, who must sorely try his patience.”

“Likely the same way you tolerate my mother—distance and small doses.”

In the time they had been speaking, twilight had turned to dark. Though a candle burned beside the seat where Elizabeth had read Gerard’s diary, she now moved about the room, lighting more. “Between your recommendation of her husband, and Mrs. Smith’s praise of her kindness, I anticipate pleasure in meeting Mrs. Wentworth at the christening. I hope Mrs. Smith might also be there, as I would like to speak with her more—as we parted, I realized I had seen her on the Cobb the morning of Lady Elliot’s fall. She was on the bench near Granny’s Teeth when we first arrived—I saw her from above.”

“There was nobody seated on it by the time we discovered Lady Elliot.”

“Even so, I have been wondering whether she might have observed anything that morning which could prove illuminating to our questions about the accident. It is worth at least enquiring, should the opportunity arise at the christening. Meanwhile, however, we have a less extravagant engagement to which we can look forward. I have invited a guest to dinner tomorrow night.”

“Sir Laurence?”

“No.” She reflected a moment. “Although that is an excellent idea. Perhaps we should invite the baronet and Miss Ashford to join us, unless you would then accuse me of matchmaking—your sister, however, hardly needs my help in that matter. But you will never guess who received the original invitation, so I shall have to tell you. It is Professor Randolph.”

“Professor Randolph is in Lyme?”

“Georgiana and I met him in Broad Street this morning. He is here meeting with some fossil collectors. Georgiana mentioned to me previously that Sir Laurence has an interest in fossils—in all sorts of collections, actually—so he and Miss Ashford might make a good addition to our party independent of any thoughts regarding his candidacy as a suitor for your sister.”

“Very well. Let us issue the invitation at once. Tomorrow night is little notice.”

“Somehow, I do not think the baronet will mind.”

Elizabeth retrieved her portable writing desk from the corner and set it on the table. While she wrote the note, Darcy found himself drawn to Gerard’s sea chest once more. He opened the lock.

“Are all the contents still in order?’ Elizabeth asked.

“That is what I am determining, now that I know what I am looking for.”

“I doubt we mistook a gold figurine for a grooming item.”

So did Darcy, but reading the diary had made him want to examine all the chest’s contents more closely. He withdrew the uniforms, linens, and oilskin, carefully checking folds and pockets. He looked inside the writing box, examined each nautical instrument, set aside the miniature and the letters.

Elizabeth sealed her note and sent it with a servant to the Ashfords’ house. She then joined Darcy beside the chest. “Have you found anything new?”

“I am afraid not.”

All that remained was the money purse resting on the bottom. Though he had looked inside it before, he lifted it out again now. A sixpence escaped through a small hole in the fabric. The thin coin landed on the bottom of the trunk and rolled to one side, where it became wedged in a narrow gap between the chest wall and base. Darcy grasped the coin. He had difficulty getting his fingers around it, and he wound up extracting it at a slight angle. The action caused the chest floor to shift and rise slightly with the leverage.

“Is that—?” Elizabeth asked.

Darcy already felt as if he had struck gold. “I believe so.”

The chest had a false bottom.

He withdrew another coin from the purse and with the pair of them managed to pry up the thin wooden panel that rested about two inches above the true floor of the trunk. The hidden compartment was lined with velvet, a precaution, Darcy supposed, to deter concealed items from shifting around on a rocking ship, and to muffle the sound of any that did. Within lay a larger purse—this one heavier and in superior condition. It contained the pocket money Darcy would have expected the son of an earl to have.

It also contained a gold idol.

Eighteen

“My idea of good company, Mr. Elliot, is the company of clever, well-informed people, who have a great deal of conversation; that is what I call good company.”

—
Anne Elliot,
Persuasion

Professor Randolph turned the figurine in his hands, studying it from every angle as Elizabeth and Darcy waited in suspense.

About four inches long and nearly as wide, the idol looked to Elizabeth like some sort of sinister angel—a golden Lucifer with an avian head. Fierce and intimidating, its beauty resided in its craftsmanship and history. It was not at all the sort of art object to which she was drawn.

The archaeologist found it fascinating.

She glanced at the clock and wished he would accelerate his examination. Having, at her request, arrived earlier than originally agreed upon, the professor had already spent ten minutes with the idol, and only twenty remained until the Ashfords were due to appear.

“I doubt this is of Jamaican origin,” he said at last. “Though your cousin might have acquired it on that island, more likely it was created elsewhere.”

They had told the professor that they discovered it among Lieutenant Fitzwilliam’s effects. They omitted the part about its having traveled halfway across the Atlantic hidden in a cask of sugar. And the part about suspecting Darcy’s cousin might have been murdered because of it. Oh—and the part about the cook getting killed, too.

However, if full disclosure became necessary, Elizabeth knew they could trust Professor Randolph to keep the information to himself. They had taken him into their confidence in the past, and he had proved reliable.

“Created elsewhere in the West Indies?” Darcy asked.

“Elsewhere in New Spain, or perhaps Colombia. It is difficult for me to place it precisely without the opportunity to directly compare it with similar objects of known origin, but my guess is that it comes from the Central American isthmus. Though one does find gold artifacts in the Caribbean islands, they are more plentiful on the continents—or were, until the conquistadors plundered their way through the New World. The Spanish never did find El Dorado, the legendary City of Gold, but they seized plenty of other wealth for the crown. And for themselves.”

He turned the idol again so that it lay faceup in his palm.

“What does it represent?” Elizabeth asked. “Is it some sort of ritual object?”

“This artifact is actually a pendant—a bird pendant, a type of ornament Columbus mentioned in his letters as being commonly worn round the neck by indigenous peoples. He called them
águilas
—eagles—but bird pendants can represent other species, generally birds of prey. They were symbols of prestige, worn to demonstrate power. Do you see how the wings are spread, and talons extended? And—oh!”

From a pocket of his coat he withdrew a monocle. Unlike affected London dandies, Professor Randolph carried his for a useful purpose. He removed his spectacles, raised the monacle to his eye, and looked at the figure closely. “I believe that is—yes! That is a fish in its beak.” He replaced his spectacles. His face positively glowed. “What a beautiful piece! Your cousin was fortunate to come across it, Mr. Darcy. Though I suspect it cost him dearly.”

Darcy started. It certainly had, but in ways the professor could not possibly know. “Why do you say so?”

“Unfortunately, countless relics from the Spanish Empire were lost to greed. The conquistadors wanted gold, not art, and melted ancient treasures without care for their cultural or scientific significance. So much history was destroyed—reduced to merely its metallic value—that surviving items are all the more precious. Collectors pay considerable sums for ante-Columbian artifacts, not all of them legally obtained.”

The door knocker sounded. Elizabeth rose and took the pendant from the archaeologist, who relinquished it with the reluctance of a suitor. “Thank you, professor. We appreciate your knowledge—and your discretion.”

*   *   *

Dinner proved a success. As Elizabeth had hoped, Sir Laurence and his sister perfectly complemented their party. Professor Randolph found the baronet a worthy conversationalist on subjects both artistic and scientific, and the pair were in mutual rapture over the paleontological promise shown by a young local girl whom the archaeologist had met at the Philpot sisters’ home the previous evening.

“Only imagine, Miss Ashford—” A gentleman scholar, Professor Randolph always did his best to draw others into his discourse, no matter how obscure the topic. “Miss Anning was but thirteen when she and her brother discovered a full ichthyosaur skeleton—the first complete one ever found!”

Elizabeth had not the faintest notion what an ichthyosaur was, but Professor Randolph spoke of it with such enthusiasm that she was impressed nonetheless.

Miss Ashford smiled knowingly. “Miss Anning also oversaw the excavation.”

Professor Randolph was delightfully surprised by her familiarity with the story. “Do you, too, study fossils?”

“No more seriously than do most visitors to Lyme. My brother, however, maintains such eclectic pursuits that I cannot help but develop a dilettante’s knowledge in some of them. His interest in classical antiquities inspired me to read Homer.”

“In Greek?”

She laughed. “No, Chapman’s translation. As I confessed, I am a dilettante.”

Elizabeth turned to Sir Laurence. “Miss Darcy tells me that your interest in Greek antiquities extends to the Parthenon sculptures that Lord Elgin has brought to Britain.”

“Lord Elgin is a visionary man who does not deserve the controversy his noble operation and personal sacrifice have generated,” the baronet said. “When he saw the damage the building and its frieze had already suffered under the occupation of the Turks, and the continued deterioration to which it was subjected, he took action—at his own expense—to rescue the marbles and preserve them for posterity. And now,” he said with disgust, “his detractors accuse him of not having followed proper Turkish legal procedure, or of trying to profit by selling the sculptures.”