She regretted having spoken so lightly on such a serious matter. “I imagine not,” she said more soberly. “Have you been here long?”
Fortunately, he did not appear to have taken her previous tone amiss. “About a year,” he said. “I’d originally planned to stay only through summer, but that, of course, is when the declaration of war came. So here I remain.”
“I hope your extended visit hasn’t proven too inconvenient. What brought you to England in the first place?”
Randolph withdrew a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped a smudge off his spectacles. In the drawing room, Elizabeth had noted that his clothes, though not shabby, betrayed signs of wear and were several years out of fashion. But upon closer view, she believed they had never been
“I accompanied a friend who sought a traveling companion.” He replaced both spectacles and handkerchief. “I’ve also been conducting business of my own — seeking a new post and offering a series of lectures related to a display at the British Museum. It contains numerous artifacts from my private collection.”
Elizabeth recalled the gallery she and Darcy had had to themselves the afternoon before. “Just yesterday my husband and I saw a collection of New World antiquities there. Is that the one?”
“Indeed, it is.” His face brightened. “The museum curator told me they might close the display due to lack of interest. I’m delighted that you saw it. Did you find it worthwhile?”
She nodded. “Highly intriguing, particularly the ‘mysterious articles.’ Are those yours, too?”
“Yes. In fact, I specialize in the study of supernatural objects.”
Though she’d found their conversation pleasant to this point, she now regarded him with heightened interest. Perhaps this man could answer some of the questions her quarrel with Darcy had raised. “There are enough such things in the world to make a specialty of analyzing them?”
“Mrs. Darcy, every culture in history has believed in some sort of magic. Rain dances, ghosts, second sight, miracles. How many tales of enchantment and wondrous items appear in your English literature and folklore, let alone throughout the world? I but follow the tradition of Arthur’s knights, searching the earth for holy grails.”
“Do you believe these items truly hold power, or do you study them only as curiosities?”
He sipped a long draught of wine and set the glass down slowly. “In itself, the fact that their creators and owners believed in their power makes them worthy of study,” he said at last. “Familiarity with a culture’s beliefs enables historians to better understand the people as a whole.”
Randolph hadn’t really answered her question. But she hesitated to press the subject, afraid of sounding naive to the scholar.
He withdrew his pocketwatch to check the hour. The silver timepiece was round and perhaps two and a half inches in diameter. An engraved star adorned the front of the case; a circle connected its five points. As he clicked open the case, she noted some strange characters inscribed inside. They resembled letters, but not from any alphabet she’d ever seen.
“Runes,” he said, noting her curious expression. “Characters from ancient times.”
The watch reminded her of some of the items she’d seen that morning. “Is that one of your archeological finds?”
“No.” He flipped the case shut and returned the watch to his fob pocket. “Nothing so valuable. Merely something I had commissioned for myself.”
She wanted to ask what the runes meant, but sensed he preferred to end the subject. “I confess, I’ve never heard of your pursuit as an academic discipline,” she said instead. “Is it a common field of study?”
“Unfortunately, the universities at which I’ve taught regard my focus as eccentric at best. In fact, one of them even housed me with physicians studying madness instead of with other historians or scientists.” He chuckled. “Perhaps someone thought I needed their services.”
“You’ve taught at more than one university?”
“The strength of my more mundane scholarship persuades institutions to hire me on and finance my expeditions, which turn up more ordinary treasures than mystical items. But in the long term, conservative governing boards are reluctant to grant permanent positions to someone with ‘strange’ interests. So I seem to have fallen into a cycle of joining a new faculty, lecturing for a time, embarking on a university-sponsored expedition, and returning to find that the school wants only the artifacts I’ve unearthed — not me. While here, I’d hoped Oxford or Cambridge might offer me a post, but so far my work has been greeted with the usual skepticism.”
She glanced down the long table to Darcy, who appeared trapped with the duchess in the polite but empty small talk he dreaded. Remembering her husband’s response to the museum display, Elizabeth could hardly be surprised that stately academic institutions placed Randolph’s studies on the fringes of respectability. Yet surely she was not the only person in all England to find his field of study intriguing. “Have you considered soliciting private patronage?”
He nodded. “I find, however, that without the association of a college to lend my work legitimacy, many potential patrons are more interested in speculation than in scientific inquiry. They seek financial gain, not enlightenment, and expect me to unearth some magical treasure that will make them rich. One exception has been Mr. Frederick Parrish, who sponsored my trip to London purely out of friendship.”
Elizabeth was beginning to feel that, in never having heard of Mr. Parrish before this week, she’d been living under a rock. Was there a soul in London unacquainted with him? “I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Parrish recently. He is a generous man?”
“I have hopes that he will finance my next archeological dig.” She could guess what Miss Bingley would have to say about that.
After dessert, the ladies departed to take tea in the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to talk and smoke in private. Darcy, as usual, declined to partake of tobacco, but the scientists and the earl lit pipes. The pungent scent drifted into the air, carrying with it a light haze. Lord Chatfield leaned back in his chair, drew a long draught from his pipe, and asked the physicist about an experiment he planned to conduct.
The topic appealed to Darcy after the lightweight conversation of those nearest him at dinner. He rose and stretched, intending to exchange his seat for the one beside Chatfield that Elizabeth had vacated. Kendall’s hand, however, closed about his wrist as he tried to pass. The corpulent man had an exceptionally strong grip.
“How is your friend Bingley?” Kendall’s low voice carried a belligerent tone; his face appeared flushed. Darcy would have suspected the man had imbibed too much claret, but he knew better. This show was merely the latest display of his congenial personality.
He stared at Kendall’s fleshy fingers until they dropped their grasp. “I left him in good health,” he said finally.
“I understand he’s newly married.”
He did not bother answering, nor did a response appear expected.
“Tell me,” Kendall continued, “has he learned to think for himself yet, or do you still make all his decisions for him?”
Though tempted to walk away, Darcy forbore. The man obviously intended to speak his mind; to deprive him of the opportunity might provoke a scene right here in the earl’s dining room. Of all things, Darcy loathed scenes. “I offer him advice when asked.” He spoke in clipped tones.
“And did he ask your advice about his sister’s forthcoming marriage?” Kendall snorted. “He probably thinks she made quite a catch in Frederick Parrish.”
“I have not concerned myself in the matter.”
“Too engrossed in your own affairs for a change? Well, tell little Caroline I rejoice in her nuptials. She and Parrish deserve each other.”
As Kendall at last seemed satisfied, Darcy moved away, into the chair he’d sought near the earl. But he found himself unable to focus on the scientific discussion. Instead, he seethed in silence at Kendall’s unprovoked diatribe. What had been the man’s purpose?
Darcy rarely had occasion to interact with Lawrence Kendall. Though they belonged to the same clubs and
