Page 111 of Pandora

Edward is silent a moment. “At Lady Latimer’s you said you always knew Hezekiah to be a deceitful man. Just now you said he was wily. What did you mean?”

Sir William twists his near-empty glass. “Do you remember what Dora said last night? She said her parents and Hezekiah argued in the days leading up to their deaths. All the time, she said, and she was right. I overheard them in their tent.” Hamilton fills his glass, offers more to Edward who declines.

“Hezekiah was among the party when I met Elijah and Helen in Naples. I disliked him on sight, but I tolerated him for their sake. I understand Hezekiah sold some of the larger and more valuable pieces they found on their behalf, and they let him run the shop in Elijah’s name on the occasions he and Helen went off on their own. I don’t know the full details. Pride, I suspect, made Elijah reticent in his account of the situation but Helen was a little more forthcoming. She’d suspected for a while that Hezekiah had been selling some of their pieces unlawfully.

“The arguments Dora referred to were in reference to the pithos. Hezekiah knew they would get more money from it in underhand circles than they ever would if they sold it above board. You see, for centuries smuggled goods have provided a cheap alternative to expensive imports. Taxes on imported goods make many of them costly. But illegal, smuggled goods provide a solution to the problem. Brandy—” Sir William raises his glass—“tobacco and tea prove to be popular commodities on an increasingly popular black-market. And, as we have ascertained, antiquities. Both the Government and the East India Company are hugely worried about the loss of money caused by smuggling. They’ve calculated that three million pounds of tea a year has been smuggled over the last forty years or so, three times the amount of legal sales. If they were caught...” Hamilton shakes his head. “The Blake name was at risk. To be connected with such a thing, even if Elijah and Helen were not directly responsible, could mean their execution. There was no way around that. So, you can understand why Elijah was furious. The night before they died, Elijah and Helen ordered Hezekiah home.” The diplomat looks at Edward gravely across the desk. “As I intimated last night, Mr. Lawrence, I think Hezekiah Blake killed Dora’s parents. And I am pretty sure he meant to kill Dora as well.”

Edward swallows the last of his brandy, places the glass down carefully on the desk in front of him.

“Here, then, is something I don’t understand.” Edward meets Sir William’s grave look. “If you know Hezekiah killed them, why didn’t you report him at the time?”

A pained expression crosses Hamilton’s features. He puts his own glass down before him and sighs.

“I was afraid you would ask me that. But please, I beg you not to judge me too harshly. I judge myself badly enough. I am thoroughly ashamed.”

“Sir?”

The diplomat sits back heavily in his chair. “When I said last night that I had no proof, that is indeed true. It would have been Hezekiah’s word against mine. But Hezekiah Blake is no fool and certainly did not take me for one, more’s the pity. He and Dora stayed in a hotel I procured for them after the dig was closed. I visited her every day, tried to offer her consolation, returned the cameo brooch Helen had been wearing. Christ, the child was changed almost overnight. A joyful little thing she was, but understandably her grief was acute. She became so quiet, so withdrawn. Dora clung to that brooch as though it were a lifeline.”

Sir William shakes his head at the memory. Edward’s chest constricts. He has seen Dora wear the cameo often, but it never occurred to him what the brooch might mean.

“How awful for her.”

“Yes.” Hamilton hesitates. “I noticed some hostility between you and Dora last night,” he says, and Edward winces, his guilt rising once more.

“During the soirée she discovered I had been writing about the shop, her uncle’s underhand trading. I tried to tell her that I’d mentioned no names but she would not hear my explanation. I wrote to her yesterday morning but she did not acknowledge my letter. So, when next we saw each other...”

“I see.” Sir William’s lip twists in a wry sort of smile. “You can hardly blame her anger.”

Edward has no defense, none that will sound acceptable.

“Give her time,” Hamilton says gently. “The truth always comes out. One way or another.”

Edward drains his glass, places it down on Sir William’s desk with more force than he means. He attempts a smile, gestures for the diplomat to continue. “You said Hezekiah did not take you for a fool?”

Hamilton clears his throat. “No. I asked Hezekiah what his plans were. Posed some not-so-subtle questions to him.”

“Such as?”

He spreads his hands. “How did you escape? Why weren’t your clothes filthy? Why does your wound look so clean-cut? His answers were always unsatisfactorily vague. Obviously Hezekiah knew I suspected him, though I never outright said the words. Indeed, what he said to me next made that perfectly clear.”

“Which was?”

Sir William wipes a hand across his jaw. “As you are aware, I have collected many fine pieces over the years. Many of which I sold on to buyers overseas. However. There are strict laws forbidding the export of antiquities from the Kingdom of Naples. I thought perhaps, due to my close relationship with him, the King might make an exception for me. But he denied my request.” Hamilton sniffs. “I’m afraid I did it anyway. I kept my dealings very quiet, so how Hezekiah knew this I do not know. But I suppose a crook always knows a crook, does he not?”

Edward stares at the diplomat in shock. “You traded in contraband?”

Sir William raises his finger, sets Edward with a piercing look. “No. No. I emphatically reject that accusation. They were mine to begin with. Money passed hands legally. Much of what I collected I donated to the British Museum. I ensured that the finest Mediterranean antiquities reached our shores to be celebrated, admired. I gave to the people. It was selfish of the King to deny such culture to the world.” Hamilton lowers his finger, allows himself a grimace. “I am just sorry for the manner in which it was done. Exporting antiquities from Italy is a capital offense. It is illegal. I am—was—the British ambassador to the Court of Naples, and here in England I am a much-respected member of the peerage. I need not say, need I, Mr. Lawrence, what that would have meant for me, if Hezekiah had done as he hinted most indelicately that he might, which was to notify the authorities.”

Edward blinks. “So he threatened you?”

“In not so many words, yes.”

The two men are quiet. Edward is torn. It is quite something to discover a man one admires has operated on the wrong side of the law, no matter how well he justifies the fact. But, he reasons, what is done is done; what is to come is far more important now.

“You let Hezekiah take Dora back to London,” Edward murmurs at length, and Sir William’s expression darkens.

“How could I prevent it? On her parents’ deaths Hezekiah became Dora’s legal guardian.”

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