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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.”
Di
“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 A
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 A
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 ca
“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.”
“Is he not currently in negotiations with the British government regarding a price?” asked Darcy.
“It was always his intention to present the marbles to the nation as a gift for the ages,” Sir Laurence said, “but dire financial straits have compelled him to request reimbursement for his expenses—paying his crew and transporting the marbles to England.”
“He asks nothing for the value of the sculptures themselves,” Professor Randolph added. “A mercy, as I do not know how anybody could fix a price on such treasures.”
“All objects have a price.” Sir Laurence swirled the wine in his glass. “Even if he did want compensation for his trouble, I would still consider him to have acted unselfishly in saving those artifacts from destruction. Would the world benefit any less from their preservation if he received a reward for having effected it? If he chose at this point to keep them for himself, I would not fault him.”
“Do you think an ancient culture’s treasures can rightfully belong to an individual?” Georgiana asked.
“Yes, I do.” He smiled at her, though his expression soon grew serious once again. “Particularly if that individual values them more than do conquerors into whose hands they have fallen. The Turks did not merely neglect the Parthenon, they used it as a powder magazine, caring not a whit when its roof was blown off during the Venetian siege. I would support Elgin’s rights to the sculptures even if he had not acted under the full knowledge and permission of the Ottoman authorities in removing them. Better such treasures survive in the private ownership of a man who appreciates them than be destroyed by an empire that does not.” He turned to Randolph. “As a professor of antiquities, surely you agree?”
“Having seen the sculptures, I ca