1
Elizabeth Bennet threw open the carriage door before it stopped and ran for Longbourn, the maid scrambling down behind her. Tugging at the strings of her bonnet, Elizabeth tossed it to the butler, and hurried to the study, which she entered without knocking. With relief, she found her father seated contentedly behind piles of books perched precariously on his desk.
“Papa? Are you well? What has happened?”
She had been enjoying a restful spring holiday in Kent with her close friend Charlotte Collins when an express rider delivered a letter demanding her immediate presence in Hertfordshire. Knowing he would never justify the expense unless something dire had happened, Elizabeth fretted for the entire fifty miles.
“Where are Mama, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia? Is it Jane? Is she well? Bingley?”
Rather than provide a direct reply, her father opened a drawer and sorted through the papers crammed insideuntil he found the object of his search. “I am pleased you came home quickly, Lizzy. We have no time to lose. Read this, please.”
Accepting a letter from him, she stared at him before dropping her gaze to the paper. The broken seal bore the stamp of Trinity College, Cambridge. Scanning the contents, she stopped mid-paragraph.
The greatest treasure ever to be found.
She reread the phrase, her brain screaming that this was impossible. “Papa,” she whispered, her voice catching. “This cannot be real.”
Thomas Bennet leaned back in his worn leather chair, animation lighting his face with an excitement she had not seen in years. “Oh, but it is, my dear girl. Professor Phineas Drye is the most reliable man on the planet, along with being the keenest researcher I know.”
She read the improbable words again:
Mr. Thomas Bennet,
Time is short, and I find myself in need of scholars possessed of both intellectual courage and practical resourcefulness. A discovery of extraordinary significance has come to my attention—one that could eclipse every archaeological triumph of our age. The information I have points to what is undoubtedly the greatest treasure ever to be found.
I am convinced that the scrolls and manuscripts from the ancient Library of Alexandriaare hidden within that sprawling Egyptian city. A series of clues left behind centuries ago conveys the library’s exact location.
In my research, I recently stumbled upon the first clue, my translation of which is: ‘Where the eagle’s shadow falls upon the seven hills, seek the scholar who fled with flame-touched scrolls. In the house of law, wisdom sleeps beneath marblefeet.’This points to Rome, where I believe the second clue will be found.
That will lead to the third, and the third will give directions to the fourth, and, what I suspect, is the final clue. According to my research, all four are necessary to gain access to the library. Young man, these clues are almost one thousand years old, so they are not scraps of paper stashed in an old book.
The journey to uncover the clues and the library will require several months abroad, considerable personal risk, and absolute discretion. But the scholarly rewards would be beyond current imagination. Unfortunately, my health and age make it impossible for me to undertake such an extensive journey myself, so I am offering this remarkable opportunity to three of my most capable former students and pray you will go on this quest in my stead.
Upon acceptance, please depart immediately. As others outside of Britain pursue the treasure, I cannot commit the full details in correspondence. However, I assure you that this opportunity is genuine and the potential discoveries unprecedented.
Should you possess the means and inclination for such an adventure, reply with utmost haste. The sands of time wait for no man, my dear Bennet. This chance may never come again.
Your devoted colleague,
Professor Phineas Drye
Trinity College, Cambridge
PS: Bring your finest young mind along, should family circumstances permit. Fresh eyes often see what experience overlooks.
“Young man? You? Surely you jest! A treasure hunt?At your age?” Elizabeth laughed, thinking it was one of his wry jokes, yet he was completely in earnest.
He shook his head. “Lizzy, these are scrolls written by eminent scholars gathered from the four corners of the earth.” Sitting back in his chair, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Imagine the sights we will see and the memories we will have for our lifetimes.”
“We?”
“Oh, yes, my dear girl. The fresh eyes and young brain that the professor suggested we will need to complete this task must be yours.”
This was exactly the sort of extraordinary experience she had always craved. Though she relished the idea for herself, she doubted his health and stamina would permit such an undertaking. “Papa, you cannot manage a walk to Meryton without complaining about your constitution.”
“I am well enough. The receipt of this letter…well, I have not been this invigorated since Lydia was born.”
“Who is this Professor Drye? How are arrangements to be made for passage on a ship?”
