Every Whispered Word (12 page)

Stay out o' Africa, unless ye want to see more o' yer precious workers snuff it.

Was Lord Bagley the man who had hired those two ruffians to frighten her? she wondered. It was certainly possible. Lord Bagley was an esteemed archaeologist with a long and distinguished career, but he was not the kind of man who would devote years of his life to digging in the earth with no guarantee of finding anything. His lordship's approach had always been to simply take what was already there, even if that meant carving up a beautifully situated temple or knocking down some glorious sculpture so it could be boxed up and shipped to the British Museum. It had been years since Lord Bagley's last find, Camelia reflected. And despite his professed scepticism of her father's work, he had always been extremely eager to talk to Lord Stamford about the progress of his African dig when her father went to London.

Had her father managed to actually convince Lord Bagley of his site's extraordinary importance before he died?

“I'm convinced we will find more artifacts illustrating the rich and ancient history of the African people,” Camelia replied vaguely as she held his gaze. “Perhaps there will even be some evidence to support Mr. Darwin's theory regarding the evolution of the species.”

“I'm afraid I find this idea that we all came from apes as distasteful as it is ridiculous.” Lady Bagley flapped her ostrich-feather fan vigorously over her enormous, diamond-draped bosom as she concluded, “Everyone knows man was created by God.”

“From what I understand of it, Mr. Darwin leaves open the possibility that God created apes first, then watched over them as they gradually changed into human beings,” Lord Duffield said. “It took thousands of years.”

“That is absurd,” Lady Bagley countered. “If God wanted human beings on the earth, why would He start by making apes and then changing them into humans? He has the power to make whatever He wants, and that is exactly what He did, by creating Adam and Eve.”

“There are many things about how we came to be where we are today that we simply do not understand, Lady Bagley,” Elliott diplomatically pointed out. “As archaeologists, it is our mission to ask questions and keep searching, to try to put together some of the many pieces of that puzzle.”

“If mankind truly began in Africa, as Mr. Darwin claims, then it begs the question: What on earth have those Negroes been doing all these thousands of years?” demanded Lord Gilby.

Lord Bagley nodded in agreement. “Why do we not see any great buildings, or splendid tombs, or spectacular works of art, like those left by the ancient Egyptians and Greeks and Romans? Where are the accomplishments of so many years of existence?”

“The people of Africa have no need to aggrandize themselves with the construction of enormous pyramids and temples,” Camelia explained, struggling for patience. “Their spiritual beliefs are inextricably tied to the land and the animals, which means they believe that when a person dies their spirit remains part of the land around them. They see no need for elaborate burial rituals or gravesites. As for the construction of permanent dwellings, this makes little sense in a nomadic society. The land and weather can be harsh, forcing the tribes to move on when the need for food becomes great.”

“Or they were all just too lazy to build anything of import,” quipped Lord Duffield.

“They didn't have the intelligence,” asserted Lord Bagley. “Not their fault, really. There are scientific studies proving it is just a matter of brain size.”

“And tell me, Lord Bagley, just how big exactly are we to assume your brain is?” Camelia's tone was acrid. “I only ask because I'm not aware that you have built anything of particular note in your lifetime.”

“Camelia—” Elliott began in a warning tone.

“I'll have you know, Lady Camelia, that I am one of the major archaeological contributors to the Greek and Roman Antiquities Collection of the British Museum,” Lord Bagley huffed, insulted. “I am responsible for the installation of an entire Greek temple within the museum, which is widely regarded as one of the collection's most important pieces. My work in the field of archaeology is, as I'm sure every member here will agree, of foremost significance.”

“You went to Italy and Greece and hacked down some magnificent temples and works of art and carted them away before anyone had the sense to try to stop you,” Camelia retorted. “Were you not just tearing down what others had built?”

Appalled, Elliott moved even closer to her. “What Lady Camelia is trying to say is—”

“I know what Lady Camelia is trying to say,” Lord Bagley assured him, his chalky, deeply lined face flushed with indignation. “And I must say, I find her comments to be not only ill-informed, but extremely offensive.”

Camelia opened her mouth to retort that she found his comments about the African people to be equally offensive, but Elliott was now squeezing her hand, imploring her to be silent.

“Don't let it be said the Lady Camelia doesn't share her father's passion for a rousing debate!” he declared, laughing heartily. “Lord Stamford never cared particularly which side he argued—so long as it was a direct challenge to whatever point I was trying to make. I can see that his daughter is the same way—aren't you, Lady Camelia?”

His face was a carefully contrived mask of amusement. Beneath the playful merriment in his dark brown eyes, Camelia could see he was pleading with her to stop insulting her host and go along with Elliott's explanation.

She returned his gaze evenly, unwilling to apologize for her comments. She detested the puffed-up little group of arrogant ladies and gentlemen around her, all of whom were so thoroughly convinced of their own superiority. She wanted to lash out at them, telling them in no uncertain terms what she thought of their ugly ignorance and bigotry.

Still smiling, Elliott raised an expectant brow.

Apologize,
he instructed her silently.
Now.

Frustration welled within her. She needed the support of these people, she realized. Without their funding or endorsement, however grudgingly it was given, she couldn't continue her work. It was that simple.

And that infuriating.

“I am like my father,” Camelia murmured, trying her best to sound somewhat contrite. “Sometimes, in the heat of the moment, I'm afraid I may go too far.” She regarded her audience impassively.

There was a moment of strained silence.

“There now, my dear, no apology is necessary,” Lord Bagley assured her.

Good, because you aren't getting one.
She regarded Lord Bagley innocently.

“No doubt things are somewhat different for women in South Africa,” Lady Bagley added, as if she were grappling for some kind of excuse for Camelia's outrageous behavior. “I suppose because it is such a young country. I can't imagine living in such a hot, wild place.”

You wouldn't last a day there,
Camelia assured her silently.
You would shrivel up in the sun or be eaten by a ferocious animal.
She smiled, taking perverse pleasure in the thought.

Misinterpreting the nature of Camelia's smile, Lady Bagley smiled back.

“If you will excuse us, I have promised to show Lady Camelia the gardens,” Elliott said, eager to remove Camelia from the group now that a brittle calm had been restored. “I understand they are simply magnificent.”

“Oh, they are indeed,” enthused Lady Bagley. “It is said that our rose garden is one of the finest in London!”

“Then I am most anxious for Lady Camelia to see it.” Elliott offered Camelia his arm, which she took. “Excuse us.” He bowed slightly, then quickly led Camelia away.

“Young Wickham is in for a surprise if he thinks he can tame that one,” remarked Lord Bagley after they were gone.

“Nothing wrong with the girl having a bit of spirit,” remarked Lord Duffield appreciatively. “Even if her arguments are totally ridiculous.”

“A bit of spirit is fine, but Lady Camelia has gone completely wild,” fretted Lady Bagley, briskly waving her fan over herself. “Her father should never have permitted her to go to live with him in Africa after her mother died. He should have put her with relatives in England, and then arranged a marriage for her the minute she came of age. It's shocking for a young, unmarried woman to be working on a dig in the middle of Africa surrounded by dangerous beasts and naked native men.”

“She won't be doing it much longer,” her husband assured her. “She claims to be on the brink of some important find, but everyone knows the only things of any importance to be found in Africa are diamonds and gold. Unless she can find some of that, and quickly, she'll be forced to abandon this fool-headed dream of her father's.”

“How is it that she has managed to go on for as long as she has?” wondered Lord Pendrick.

“Stamford left her a modest inheritance, along with a fair amount of debt,” Lord Gilby explained. “Some members of the society have generously forgiven their loans to him. A few have even given her money over the last little while, out of respect for her father's memory. Unfortunately, I'm afraid their sense of charity is wearing thin.”

“It's well known she's had trouble at her site, though she doesn't like to admit it.” Lord Duffield stroked the tip of his beard as he added, “A few of her workers have been killed in accidents, and many have fled. I understand the site is flooded from all the rain, and she can't get it pumped out. The natives believe the land is cursed.”

“The natives always believe their land is cursed,” Lord Bagley scoffed impatiently. “That is part of their ignorance. If I stopped excavating every time someone told me about some idiotic curse or other, I'd never have discovered anything.”

“Quite right, dear,” agreed Lady Bagley. “But I think you must agree, it is different for a young woman. Lady Camelia should abandon the site at once.”

“I know young Wickham is praying she'll come to her senses soon and sell the land,” reflected Lord Pendrick.

“Apparently the De Beers Company has made her an offer, although I can't see what earthly use the place is to them.” Lord Duffield shook his head. “There's never been so much as a diamond chip found there.”

“They're trying to consolidate their holdings around Kimberley,” Lord Gilby speculated. “As long as they own it, no one else can do anything with it.”

“The land may not be worth anything now, but thirty or forty years from now, who knows?” Lord Pendrick added. “I suppose the De Beers Company reasons that even if there aren't any diamonds to be found, one day it may be useful just to have it for farming or housing.”

Lord Bagley laughed. “That's an extraordinarily long-term investment. You wouldn't catch me putting money into something with such a faint hope of a return. I like to know that I'll be getting something back long before I'm too old to enjoy it.”

“Then let us hope that Lady Camelia comes to her senses quickly, before she completely bankrupts herself,” mused Lady Bagley.

“I'm sure she'll come around before long, my dear. Cursed or not, if she cannot pay her workers, then she will have to sell.” Lord Bagley paused to take a sip of his brandy before cryptically adding, “It is that simple.”

         

“You shouldn't have spoken to Lord Bagley like that, Camelia,” Elliott admonished as he led her down a path of crushed cream-colored gravel. “You offended him.”

“He deserved to be offended,” Camelia returned heatedly. “They all did. Their comments about the African people were disgusting. Did you really expect me to just stand by and let them say those things?”

“I know it is difficult for you, Camelia, but you have to learn that sometimes it is better to say nothing,” Elliott said. “You won't change their opinions by challenging them the way you did, but you will insult them, which will only make them less apt to want to help you. And since you need their help, you have to be careful in how you act around them.”

“I don't need their help so much that I have to tolerate listening to them denigrate an entire race of people who work harder in one day than most of the people in that ballroom do during the course of an entire year.”

Elliott sighed. “Have you managed to secure any contributions so far this evening?”

“Lord Cadwell indicated he would be willing to give me something. He was a good friend of my father's, years ago.”

“Did he say how much?”

“Not precisely—but I'm sure it will be a generous amount. He seemed to be very interested when I described the latest bones we have found, and of course he is quite keen to learn more about the rock paintings.”

“Any others?”

“Not so far.”

He regarded her with grim resignation.

“The evening isn't over yet, Elliott.”

“No, it isn't, Camelia, but surely you must see that there seems to be a pervasive unwillingness on behalf of the society to continue its support of your father's work.”

“They are just somewhat reluctant to give their money to a woman,” Camelia argued. “I have to work on convincing them that the fact that I am a woman is of no consequence—what matters is the importance of the site itself.”

“It's more than that, Camelia, and you know it. Even when your father was alive, he was finding it increasingly difficult to convince people to invest in his work. Despite his enthusiasm and dedication, wherever he went, he never managed to discover anything of great consequence.”

“This time is different. Pumulani is going to be of vital importance.”

“You can't possibly know that for certain, Camelia. Your father and I worked on Pumulani for fifteen years before he died, and you have been working tirelessly on it for six months since. All we ever managed to find were some bones, beads, a few primitive tools, and the rock paintings, which, although interesting, hardly constitute a major archaeological find—at least in the minds of the Society,” he quickly qualified, seeing she was about to argue.