Darcy exchanged a meaningful glance with Richard and Bennet. “Captain, we must discuss cargo arrangements. As you are aware, when we reach Alexandria, we hope to acquire certain scholarly materials that will require careful transport.”
The captain nodded. “Our cargo hold still contains items that will be delivered to the British residents in Egypt. Once they are unloaded, that space will be filled with Egyptian goods desired in England. Under typical circumstances, your passenger quarters would be filled with cargo. Should you need additional space beyond what you can store under your bunks, I am willing to make space in my own cabin available. Manuscripts and scrolls, I assume?”
“Precisely. Fragile items of considerable value must be protected from moisture and physical damage during our return voyage.”
“Then we shall need proper storage containers,” Morrison mused. “Wooden crates lined with oiled cloth…perhaps sealed with wax to prevent water infiltration.”
Bennet leaned forward. “It is possible that there are already containers in place that will be sufficient to protect the documents during the journey back to England.”
“My primary purpose in Constantinople will be to gather information and to arrange for Miss Bennet and Mrs. Bell’s protection while they are in the markets.” Richard’s arms folded across his chest. “Nothing else will take priority.”
Mrs. Bell smiled at him, and the soldier in him retreated, briefly.
Upon finalizing these arrangements, Darcy’s mind drifted to Egypt. He was remarkably happy. The proximity to their destination was enticing.
But it was Elizabeth’s kiss, along with her beautiful words of affection, that had opened possibilities he hardly dared to contemplate. If he smiled like a fool whenever he thought of that perfect moment, it was entirely her fault.
31
Three days later, Darcy stood on the deck of theMary Catherine, enjoying the captivating view. The magnificent outline of Constantinople rose before them, looking like an Arabian tale. The city spread across seven hills, as did Rome. But where Rome spoke of imperial power and classical order, Constantinople whispered of Eastern mystery and exotic beauty. Minarets pierced the sky like elegant spears. The great dome of Hagia Sophia dominated the landscape with its ancient majesty. The waters of the Bosphorus and Golden Horn sparkled in the morning like scattered jewels.
“Incredible,” Elizabeth said beside him. Her wonder never failed to move him.
“Incredible is correct,” Darcy agreed, though his attention was now more focused on her profile than the dazzling cityscape before them.
Mrs. Bell and Tommy eagerly volunteered to be their guides through the legendary markets. They agreed to spend no more than two hours at the location beforegoing to Hagia Sophia to look for the next clue. They would not relax fully until they found what they sought, a lesson learned in Athens.
By midmorning, they were immersed in a sensory experience unlike anything they had yet encountered. The Grand Bazaar was a city unto itself, with covered halls that stretched in every direction. Merchants hawked their wares in a dozen different languages. Turkish carpets hung from the walls like tapestries of jeweled silk, their intricate patterns speaking of centuries of artistic tradition. Bolts of fabric in colors Darcy had never seen—vibrant reds, deep blues, rich greens, gleaming golds—were stacked from floor to ceiling. The air was thick with the aroma of coffee beans and exotic spices, while leather goods of unbelievable quality competed for attention with mohair and angora wool as soft as clouds.
“Look at this silk,” Elizabeth exclaimed, running her fingers over a bolt of fabric that shimmered with apparent inner light. “I have never seen anything as beautiful.”
She moved through the maze of merchandise with the same eager curiosity she displayed in every port, asking questions of the sellers, examining techniques and materials with respectful interest. Darcy reveled in the natural grace she exuded as she easily adapted to yet another foreign culture. Her joyous spirit was infectious.
They had arrived, as Mrs. Bell informed them with delight, on a festival day. The sounds of crowds and celebration echoed from the Hippodrome, where chariot races were being held in the ancient Byzantine tradition.
“We could see them races,” Tommy suggestedhopefully. “They’re right spectacular? horses and crowds and all manner of excitement.”
“Perhaps later,” Darcy replied diplomatically. “Our priority must be Hagia Sophia.”
“Humph!” The lad scuffed his foot on the ground. “Well, maybe they’ll run the chariots again later. I’m not one for churches, but I guess I’ll tag along.”
The great structure of Hagia Sophia proved to be even more magnificent than the guidebooks Darcy had purchased in London suggested. As they passed through the massive doors into the soaring interior, the sheer scale and beauty of the space left him awestruck. An enormous dome floated impossibly overhead, seemingly supported by nothing but divine will, while shafts of colored light streamed through ancient windows, creating an atmosphere of transcendent mystery.
“In the great church where light becomes prayer,” Bennet quoted, “the keeper’s secret rests where emperors once stood.”
They spent the afternoon methodically examining every inch of the vast interior. From time to time, a muezzin?a man who chanted the call to prayer?or another individual serving in the mosque would offer their help. Each eagerly praised the glory of the building and Allah. With respect, the ladies would listen while the men continued to wander through the chambers.
It was Richard who found the area that had served as the imperial enclosure. Byzantine emperors had attended services there surrounded by splendor that rivaled heaven itself.
“There,” Mrs. Bell pointed toward the gallery level where a magnificent mosaic caught the afternoon light. “TheDeësis. Christ flanked by the Virgin Mary and John the Baptist. See how the light falls across it?”
Darcy and the others studied the ancient artwork with excitement. The mosaic was positioned perfectly to catch the rays of the sun. Light streamed through the windows and pooled gold against the far wall, and for a moment the radiance itself felt like a prayer.
“Where emperors once stood,” Richard murmured. “This gallery was reserved for imperial use.”
Darcy spotted the irregularity. Letters had been carved into the marble frame surrounding the mosaic, so subtly integrated into the decorative pattern that they were nearly invisible unless one knew what to look for.
“Here,” he said with excitement. “Can you make out the words?”
