“Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said warmly as they entered. “You look much improved.”
Darcy rose from his chair, his color better, though he still moved with the careful deliberation of someone recently recovered from illness. “Miss Bennet, Mr. Bennet. Your kindness yesterday was…” He searched for adequate words. “I am deeply grateful.”
“Anyone would have done the same, so enough with that.” Mr. Bennet indicated the table. “I confess myself curious about these maps you have spread before you like battle plans.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam gestured to the chairs acrossfrom them. “We were examining our route to Rome and discussing the clue Professor Drye provided. Perhaps you might offer your insights.”
Darcy held out the chair next to him for Elizabeth. There was no look of repugnance or offense when she accepted. For that, he was pleased?a small but important victory. Once they settled themselves, he produced the parchment fragment and read aloud: “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 marble feet.”
Elizabeth leaned forward, studying the ancient text. “The seven hills mean the Eternal City, but the eagle’s shadow…”
Mr. Bennet mused. “There are statues throughout the city, monuments to various emperors and victories. Which one? I do not know.”
“The scholar who fled with flame-touched scrolls,” Darcy continued, tracing the words with his finger. “This could be anyone who escaped Alexandria with scrolls. An unnamed servant. A zealous student.”
“Or possibly someone of note whose name is recorded somewhere we have not yet found,” Elizabeth offered.
Richard nodded. “Hidden in the house of law. Darcy and I discussed this the night before we departed. The Forum? Though what lies beneath marble feet…” He spread his hands in a gesture of uncertainty.
“We shall have to examine the clues more closely once we reach Rome,” Mr. Bennet concluded. “I regret that I have no personal knowledge of Roman architecture to guide us. Have you been to Italy, Mr. Darcy?”
Darcy shook his head. “I had planned a Grand Tour after university, but my father died when I was two and twenty, and the responsibilities of Pemberley called me home. Moreover, with Bonaparte’s forces controlling much of the continent, such travel became impossible.”
Mr. Bennet grew still. “My own father passed when I was even younger than you were. I inherited Longbourn at twenty, married soon after, and then…” His voice was wistful. “Children came. Responsibilities multiplied. The opportunity never arose.”
Did Elizabeth’s father regret the family obligations that had prevented his scholarly pursuits? If he did harbor such regrets, how might that affect his feelings toward the family that constrained him?
“The demands of estate management can be overwhelming, particularly when inherited young and without proper preparation,” Darcy said.
“Yet, like me, you were able to arrange for this expedition. I have heard of Pemberley, young man, and your property is known to be vast, certainly much more expansive than Longbourn. How were you able to leave your duties behind to take this trip?”
“I have surrounded myself with honest workers to act on my behalf. My steward has been with the family for ten years and my man of business even longer. They understand my methods and are authorized to make decisions in my absence. I have confidence in both men. This is how I was able to spend six weeks in Hertfordshire last autumn.”
Mr. Bennet absorbed the information. “A wise strategy?one I should have employed myself.”
The conversation might have continued in thisuncomfortable vein, but Richard said with obvious concern. “There is another urgent matter we must discuss. Professor Drye informed us that Lord Burton’s invitation, along with the first clue, has fallen into the possession of George Wickham. I understand you know the man.”
Elizabeth straightened in her chair. Defensive. “Mr. Wickham? Surely this should not concern us! He is an honorable gentleman who has been grievously wronged by…” Her attention flicked to Mr. Darcy. “He has suffered great injustice.”
Her defense of Wickham’s character struck Darcy like a strong kick, but he breathed through it and said nothing.
Richard, bless him, handled the delicate situation with his natural sense of right and wrong. “Appearances can be deeply deceiving, Miss Bennet,” he said with gravity that demanded attention. “I say this not to contradict your good opinion but to warn you that this expedition may prove more dangerous than any of us anticipated.”
“But Mr. Wickham is?” Elizabeth began.
“Is someone we shall need to watch,” Richard said gently but firmly. “I can say no more at present, but I ask that you trust my judgment in this matter even if you cannot understand my reasons.”
The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken questions. Every instinct urged Darcy to explain the truth about the scoundrel’s nature. Unfortunately, rather than convince her of Wickham’s dishonesty, such revelations would be more likely to reinforce Elizabeth’s mistaken belief that Darcy was vindictive.
Mr. Bennet broke the tension by consulting his timepiece. “We should return to theMary Catherinesoon. Captain Morrison plans to depart with tomorrow’s tide.”
“TheMeridianneeds one day longer to offload her cargo.” Darcy rose from his chair. “We will meet again in Gibraltar.”
Elizabeth stood as well and smoothed her skirts as she prepared to take their leave. “I hope your passage proves more comfortable than the last, Mr. Darcy. Seasickness is a miserable affliction.”
“As do I.” Darcy took heart that her tone was more than merely polite. “I hope the Mediterranean will prove calmer than the Channel waters and the Atlantic that so thoroughly defeated me.”
“Quite,” Mr. Bennet replied.
