Chapter 27 #2
Opening her purse, Elizabeth selected the same items as Tommy, then had the clerk add marzipan molded and painted to resemble lemons, oranges, plums, and berries that looked so real, Elizabeth was surprised to learn they were not.
Prudence did the same. By the time their purchases were complete, several other crew members from the ship had lined up behind them.
At the front was Cook, who ordered enough for everyone on board to have a small sample.
On their return to the Mary Catherine, Prudence pointed out the guns positioned to command the harbor approaches and the sentries on alert. The atmosphere of controlled tension reminded her of the dangerous waters they were entering.
They spotted Colonel Fitzwilliam approaching.
“Mrs. Bell, Miss Bennet, I would speak with you, please.” He was stern, making him look more like the officer he was than the man of business he was claiming to be. He called out, “Darcy, Mr. Bennet, would you join us for a moment?”
As soon as the others arrived, the colonel made sure they had privacy before he spoke.
“The French Mediterranean fleet has been spotted moving north from its bases in Africa. Intelligence suggests they may be planning coordinated operations against British shipping lanes between here and Constantinople.”
“What does this mean for our passage to Athens?” Darcy asked.
“It means we must be extremely careful about our route and timing. The direct approach may no longer be feasible. Alternate passages will add days to our journey but reduce the risk of encounter. In addition, the British Navy is reported to be seeking citizens to man its warships. With trouble brewing in America, they need every man they can get. It would be good to make sure that our papers are in order.”
Once they returned to the ship, Darcy, the colonel, and Elizabeth’s father hurried to review their primary protection documents.
All had in their possession a Certificate of Exemption supplied by the Admiralty, bearing its official seal and the signature of the Naval Commissioner.
The document included a detailed physical description, valid dates, and a watermark to prevent forgery.
In addition, they carried a Gentleman’s Status Document from the Commission of the Peace that included their Cambridge certificates, which, in the colonel’s case, also included his officer’s commission.
Darcy’s uncle, Lord Matlock, was a member of Parliament and had provided a letter vouching for Richard’s status along with his admiralty connections.
Lastly, Darcy held a copy of Pemberley’s land ownership deed, as did Bennet for Longbourn.
As the cousins returned the documents to their cabin, Darcy said, “I wonder if Wickham has any papers.”
The colonel scoffed. “I doubt it. The price of the documents would be too dear. If he possesses any, they are sorry-looking forgeries. That oversight might bear serious consequences. He will not be able to charm his way out of being pressed into service.”
“Then may God protect the commanding officer who has him on his ship. Though if it keeps him away from us, I would be well pleased.”
The Mary Catherine departed Messina with the evening tide. Darcy stood by Elizabeth’s side as the Sicilian coast faded into twilight. By far, she was sweeter than any cannoli or cassata and likely twice as delicious to kiss. But that would be for another time. In the meantime, he could dream.
Five days later, Elizabeth and the rest of their party stood at the rail of the Mary Catherine as the ancient port of Piraeus emerged from the Mediterranean evening.
They had been fortunate during their travels.
Captain Morrison chose to hug the coastline, withdrawing from the open sea.
On three different occasions, large vessels were visible on the horizon.
None were close enough to determine whether they were friends or foes.
Everyone was grateful for the captain’s caution.
The harbor bustled with activity in the fading light.
Fishing boats returned with their daily catch.
Merchant vessels loaded and unloaded cargo.
Seaside taverns appeared to be bursting at the seams. The constant movement of people spoke of a port that had served as Athens’ gateway to the sea for over two millennia.
“Even the harbor buildings look unmistakably Greek,” her father said to her. The port architecture had clean lines and harmonious proportions that spoke of an aesthetic sensibility that was unchanged since ancient times.
Her father was awestruck. His journal was clutched against his chest as if it might somehow capture the magic of what they were witnessing.
“To think we are here.” His words were barely audible above the sound of water against the hull.
“Tomorrow we shall see where Socrates taught, where philosophy itself was born.”
“We will see the Acropolis and the Parthenon,” Darcy said in hushed awe.
The weight of anticipation pressed against Elizabeth like a physical thing.
Captain Morrison approached their small group, his jaw set in hard lines, scanning the darkening harbor with obvious unease.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we will remain at anchor until dawn. Athens draws scholars and travelers from across Europe, which unfortunately also attracts those who prey upon such visitors. In daylight, with proper precautions, you should be safe. But tonight, I strongly recommend remaining aboard.”
Elizabeth’s stomach dropped with disappointment.
The captain’s obvious tension made her swallow her protests.
“Three days,” Morrison continued. “Long enough to take on our Greek cargo of olive oil, sponges, honey, wax, currants, and raisins. The merchants here drive hard bargains, but their goods are among the finest in the Mediterranean.”
As the ship settled at its anchorage, Elizabeth made her way to the galley without conscious decision; her need for planning and preparation overrode her disappointment at the delay. She was drawn to the familiar warmth of lamplight and the comforting presence of her companions.
Colonel Fitzwilliam dropped onto one of the benches. “We saw no sign of Wickham in Rome or Sicily. This does not mean that he has given up his pursuit. As the captain noted, the areas around the docks in any large port attract nefarious characters, and Wickham would fit right in.”
Darcy waited until Elizabeth was seated before he joined her.
“He does not need to watch the Mary Catherine directly since he can easily learn where we are headed from the Port Authority. It is possible that he waited until we departed and then joined the next ship bound for Athens. If that vessel did not stop in Messina, he may already be here.”
“Or his captain was not as wise as ours, which could have positioned him in the path of the French,” Her father suggested. “There are too many variables, I fear.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam glanced at Prudence, his gaze protective.
“We need to discuss security protocols that we will maintain from now until after Alexandria.” Elizabeth caught a glimpse of his pistol beneath his coat.
“From this point forward, we trust no one outside our immediate party. Darcy, are you armed?”
His cousin nodded and touched the knife at his belt.
“Good. Miss Bennet, Mrs. Bell, you must stay within sight of one of us at all times. No wandering off, even in daylight.”
“Very good, sir,” Elizabeth agreed, and Prudence nodded.
“I suggest that Darcy and I hire men the captain deems trustworthy to stand guard over us while we search for the next clue. They will have a thorough description of Wickham.”
Everyone saw the wisdom of his suggestion.
“Now then, let us turn our attention to our quest,” her father said, his voice vibrating with excitement.
He opened his journal to the words of the clue they had found in Rome.
“Where the Lyceum’s heir taught kings, and wisdom walked in covered halls, the merchant of words left his final gift.
Seek the owl’s blessing where philosophy was born. ”
Darcy leaned back. “Time is not on our side.”
Her father nodded. “I agree. Thus, it behooves us to share ideas and plan where we will go first when we step foot on land.”
“‘The Lyceum’s heir’ must refer to Aristotle.” Darcy’s brow furrowed in concentration. “He inherited Plato’s philosophical tradition, though he founded his own school.”
Her father’s face was bright with scholarly fever. “Quite right. And Aristotle taught kings, most notably Alexander the Great. I suspect that the reference to covered halls likely indicates the Lyceum itself, or one of the other schools nearby. So that is where we start.”
Elizabeth’s mind raced through possibilities, her pen moving rapidly across her journal as she recorded every thought, every connection.
“The owl is Athena’s symbol, so we are seeking something connected to the goddess of wisdom.
But the city is likely full of owls and statues of Athena. How do we narrow our search?”
Prudence was apologetic. “Unfortunately, I can offer little assistance with Athens. I have been to Piraeus several times, but Athens remains largely unexplored territory for me.”
They were so close, and Elizabeth felt an urgency that surprised her. When had finding these clues become so desperately important to her?
No doubt it had come from the mention of Mr. Wickham.