Pride and Prescience by Carrie Bebris Read Free Book Online

were invited simply because we enjoy Darcy’s company and wanted to become better acquainted with his wife.”
    The fish course was served. Elizabeth tasted the whitebait à la diable, wondered hopefully whether her mother was correctin her conjecture that Darcy employed French cooks at Pemberley, and turned to Professor Randolph. He looked young for a scholar, perhaps three-and-thirty, and in robust health. For some reason Elizabeth always pictured academic men as old and doddering, with mortarboards permanently affixed to their heads.
    “I went my whole life without encountering an American, and now you’re the second I’ve met this week,” she said. “I hope we haven’t suffered an invasion while my attention was focused on more domestic matters?”
    The archeologist adjusted his spectacles. “No invasion,” he responded, “but the state of war between our countries has certainly made it harder for those of us in England to travel home. British seas are no place to speak with an American accent right now.”
    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
in
fashion—at least, not on this side of the Atlantic. The professor’s costume included an extraordinary number of pockets. It was not unusual for gentlemen to have breast or tail pockets in their coats, or fob pockets in their waistcoats. But in addition to these, Randolph’s loose-fitting trousers appearedto have at least two pockets of their own, and the unusual cut of his waistcoat hinted at another two pockets on his shirtfront. She wondered if all the pockets reflected American style, his own taste, or an overzealous tailor.
    “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