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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 co
“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 ma
“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 Gra
“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 di
“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.”