The Deception At Lyme

“So, your cousin and the cook—Mr. Hart—were two casualties of how many?”

“I did not think to enquire.” His mind had been so occupied by coalescing suspicion that he had not asked all he might have during his conversation with St. Clair, and the battle itself, though of tantamount significance to Gerard’s family, had been of such minor consequence in the overall war that it had received little attention in the Naval Chronicle at the time. “St. Clair made it sound a large number, though obviously this was no Trafalgar.”

“Perhaps the number of other wounded does not signify,” Elizabeth said. “The salient point is that both Lieutenant Fitzwilliam and the cook died shortly after becoming aware of the figurines—objects that somebody else wanted hidden. The question is whether the timing of their deaths resulted from coincidence or malice. As Lady Elliot’s demise has already put me in a murderous frame of mind, it is tempting to read homicide into this history. However, ship-to-ship cannon blasts followed by boarding and melee seems a rather inefficient method of murder.”

“But a very convenient cover for one—or two.”

“You suspect your cousin and Mr. Hart were killed by a member of their own ship’s crew?”

“The melee provided a perfect opportunity to silence any questions about the idols.”

“Surely you do not think Lieutenant St. Clair himself—”

“It is possible. Or someone acting with his knowledge and perhaps on his instructions.”

“But why should he want them dead? He had their trust—he is the person who hired Mr. Hart, and he acted as a mentor to your cousin. He also had the idol in his possession by the time the battle occurred.”

“Idols.” Darcy emphasized the s as he pronounced the word. “Recall that there were two—hence, twice the value and twice the motive for keeping their existence secret.”

She perused the final entries again. “Your cousin writes that Hart came to him with two figurines, but the later account of his conversation with Lieutenant St. Clair says he gave up only one: ‘I surrendered the idol I had shewn him, but they remain fixed in my thoughts.’ Lieutenant Fitzwilliam must have held back the other idol.”

“Or in the haste of writing, he accidentally left off the s in that single instance—a reasonable possibility, given the general state of those lines’ urgency and execution.”

“The word is plural everywhere else it appears,” she conceded. “Yet if he did relinquish only one idol, did he retain the other with or without Lieutenant St. Clair’s knowledge? Was St. Clair aware of the second? Perhaps your cousin told St. Clair about only the first. Alternatively, Lieutenant Fitzwilliam might have informed him of both but brought only one with him when he sought out St. Clair.”

“St. Clair could have known about both before Gerard even said a word.”

“Because he himself put them in the sugar cask?”

“Or ordered someone else to.”

“Why would he hide anything of value in a cask to be opened and shared by others, instead of keeping the figurines among his private possessions?”

“Perhaps he did not intend for that cask to be shared, but for it to quietly travel to England with his other personal property.” Darcy gestured toward the diary still in Elizabeth’s hands. “Gerard writes that many of the officers had purchased small quantities of rum, sugar, spices, and other West Indian goods for themselves or gifts for friends at home. When those goods were loaded onto the ship, a cask intended for St. Clair’s stores could have become confused with those designated for his mess.”

“Might that not be true of all the officers’ goods? The cask in question could have belonged to any one of them.”

“Yes, but recall that St. Clair acted as caterer for his mess—he contracted for the group’s sugar and other provisions. If a cask from anyone’s private reserve was likely to be misidentified as communal, it would be his.”

“Again, why would he—or anybody—hide such objects in a cask at all? Why not simply lock them in his sea chest?”

“Perhaps he feared they would be stolen. Perhaps he did not want to be connected with them if they were found.”

“He bought two gold figurines as souvenirs of his time in the West Indies. What is the harm in that? Why go to such lengths and risk to disassociate himself from them?”

“Perhaps the idols were something he was not supposed to possess. Given to him by acquaintances he was not supposed to have.” Darcy rose from his chair. It was difficult to sit still with his mind so restless. He went back to the window, but saw no more of the view than he had before. “I wish Gerard had described the figurines in more detail.”

“Had he known he was leaving behind a mystery for you to solve, no doubt he would have. Unfortunately, he did not expect to die.”

“He had the foresight to leave directions for the disposition of his sea chest in the event of his death.”

“Yes—ironically, into the care of the very person whom you now suspect of precipitating his demise.” She set aside the diary and came to him. “Have you considered that we have only Lieutenant St. Clair’s word that your cousin asked him to separate the sea chest from the rest of his belongings and deliver it in person?”

A coldness settled upon Darcy. “I had not. Now that you raise the point, Captain Tourner knew nothing about the request. In fact, he found it extremely unsettling when he heard of it today.”

“By taking the sea chest into his custody, Lieutenant St. Clair secured himself unrestricted access to it. Perhaps you are correct—perhaps your cousin did surrender only one of the figurines to St. Clair, and St. Clair wanted time to break into the chest for the other one.”

“The chest, however, was never broken into. It is undamaged—other than normal wear—and yet secured by the original lock. Would he not have sawed it off or taken the chest to a locksmith? He has had years in which to do so.”

“Maybe he did not need to. Maybe Lieutenant Fitzwilliam told him the combination, or maybe St. Clair figured it out. The code is not difficult to guess by someone who knows even the most superficial information about your family—your uncle’s name appears in Debrett’s, for heaven’s sake—and St. Clair is an intelligent man.”

“Yet we found all in order.”

“Did we? If something were missing, how would we know?”

He pondered this, first imagining Elizabeth’s hypothetical scenario, then recalling their actual encounters with St. Clair. “Whatever his intent, I do not think St. Clair ever managed to open the chest. Both here and at the tavern, he seemed very interested in its present contents—almost as if he were hoping we would invite him to examine them along with us.” Darcy wondered how he had become St. Clair’s defender; he had initiated the conversation expecting Elizabeth to assume the role of devil’s advocate.

“I think we have taken this speculation as far as we can without additional information,” she said. “We need to either ask him directly about the idols and see how he responds, or find someone with sufficient naval connections to help us investigate. Might Captain Tourner be approached?”

“I doubt any captain would speak against one of his own officers to a stranger, particularly someone outside the navy.”

“Might Captain Harville know Captain Tourner?”

“Perhaps. Or—I met Captain Wentworth today, the husband of Sir Walter Elliot’s middle daughter and a good friend of the Harvilles. Upon better acquaintance, he might be persuaded to help us.”

“Today while seabathing, Georgiana and I met another friend of the Wentworths who spoke very highly of both the captain and his wife. We will have an opportunity to become better acquainted with them quite soon—Sir Walter and Miss Elliot called this afternoon to invite us to Alfred’s christening.”

“I take it that ‘Alfred’ is the baronet’s new son?”

“Walter Alfred Henry Arthur Elliot.” Her brow furrowed. “Or is it Walter Alfred Arthur Henry?” She shrugged. “Yes, Lady Elliot’s baby—the new crown prince of the Elliot family.”

“Are we to come bearing gold, frankincense, and myrrh?”

“I think gold alone will satisfy Sir Walter, so long as it is delivered with proper homage by magi. Though perhaps he might use the frankincense to preserve himself in all his aristocratic stateliness. Miss Elliot, too.” She paused. “From the Wentworths’ friend Mrs. Smith, I received the impression that Sir Walter’s second daughter does