Carrie Bebris - The Deception At Lyme

“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.

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.”