Stealing Athena

by Karen Essex

  “Pity that the sun shines on a day of sadness,” he said.

  “Of what sadness do you speak, sir?” she asked, hoping that she had not met one of those travelers who seek a stranger to trap with their saga of woe.

  “Have you not heard, madam? Days ago, off the coast of Spain, Admiral Nelson was mortally wounded fighting the French. It was a great victory for the navy, but a great loss for England.”

  “Oh dear, Lord Nelson. I had the privilege of knowing him,” Mary said. She thought of her poor impression of the small, battle-scarred man, and of Emma Hamilton, who at this moment must be suffering terribly. Mary almost wished that she and Emma could have a good cry together. They’d both been through so much, and though Elgin was still alive, he could be as lost to her as Nelson now was to Emma. “But you say that England took the day?”

  “They say that the battle will go a long way to defeating Bonaparte once and for all. If that is true, then all the world will be much improved, will it not?”

  “Indeed, sir, it will,” she said. She took a deep breath of the crisp autumnal air. It had been a long time since she had breathed so deeply. She was home. And both she and England were undoubtedly changed forever.

  SHE HAD NOT SEEN them in two and a half years. The only child whose face she could firmly place in her memory was William, and each time she allowed that to happen, she remembered that he was gone. She was anxious to reunite with her three Turks, and not as some visitor in their lives, but as their mother and prime custodian. She would be eternally grateful to her parents for taking care of the children when she could not, but she did not want them to continue as the caretakers. Rather than live with her parents at their London residence at Portman Square, she took a house in London on Baker Street. She knew that they would disapprove of the arrangement, but she also hoped that, with a little time, they would be happy to have peace and quiet in their home.

  As she waited nervously for the three children to arrive, she tried to anticipate every possible reaction on their part, even rejection. But when they saw her, they ran from their grandparents and rushed into her arms, clinging violently to her. Five, four, and three years of age, they were beautiful.

  “You are elegant little angels,” she said, hugging her daughters. It was impossible to decide which one had prettier eyes or fairer skin or thicker ringlets.

  She wrote to Elgin daily, giving him as many details as possible on the children’s growth and progress, especially that of Bruce, since he was the little hellion of the family, dropping his trousers and inviting no less illustrious a being than his grandfather to kiss his “backside” when the latter had smacked it for disobedience.

  What say you to that specimen of elegance? Really, I never saw a finer boy than he is—healthy, manly, excessively active, and uncommonly tall and well made, just like his father.

  She knew the things that would bring a smile to Elgin’s face no matter what his present circumstances, and she concentrated on filling her daily missives with these morsels.

  Mary is certainly remarkably clever and elegant. Her little head is beautifully shaped. Harriet is the mildest little beauty I ever beheld. “I am a bonny creature,” she says, repeating what others tell her about herself. Our children are dear things and have excellent hearts and violent attachments for one another. They pray every day for their dear father’s health and that they may soon be reunited with the one whom they know loves them dearly!

  Elgin did not respond to these letters as Mary had hoped, but reprised his condemnation of her behavior:

  Why have you taken a home separate from your parents in London? Why do you not live under your father’s roof like a proper girl? Once again, I have been made privy to your comings and goings. It seems that you entertain gentlemen at your house on Baker Street, and that you are often seen in their company in the evenings.

  She responded:

  Honestly, Elgin, I am the mother of children and not a child. I will not be treated as one. My parents have taken responsibility for our children for two and a half years. Is that not enough? Do you know how noisy and active three children can be? Do my parents not deserve peace and quiet? Moreover, you never seem to acknowledge the suffering I endure in giving you these children. After all the worries to which I have subjected my parents, I do not wish to add this to the list. I do not want them to have to act as my chief nursemaids when I am recovering from the labor. As for my gallivanting at night and entertaining men in my home, I am once again doing so in yet another effort to obtain your release. I have worked like a slave for you, Elgin, and my efforts are only rewarded with your recriminations.

  “Mary, dear, might I have a word?”

  Mary put down her pen, happy to hear her father’s voice. She welcomed the relief from these eternal missives to Elgin, answering his ridiculous fantasies of what her life was in London. Did he really imagine that, with three small children whom she had not seen in long years to get to know again, a husband whom she must try to get out of prison, and an enormous belly holding another baby due in weeks, she was flitting around the social scene like a debutante?

  “I’ve been round to see the bankers,” Mr. Nisbet said. This was rarely an introduction to good news. “As you know, Elgin seriously misrepresented his income to me when he asked for your hand. It is about ten percent of what he told me.”

  “I know, Father, but we have been over this. There is nothing I can do about a falsehood told by an eager beau so many years ago! He was desperate to marry me before he left for Turkey.”

  With all of her problems, she did not want to return to the same territory they had trampled time and again.

  “That is not my point. We should be grateful that he represented himself as amply able to take care of you, Mary. Otherwise, I would have given him much more control over your money. As it is, the rumors of his spending that predated your marriage, combined with the seven-thousand-pound annual income that he claimed, caused me to guard your own fortune. And that, my dear, is why you have a fortune left. Elgin has spent everything of his own. The bankers have been selling his stocks to pay the creditors, but there is nothing left. Elgin’s complete worth is down to a few hundred pounds, and he owes tens of thousands.”

  THE PORTER OPENED THE door for Mary, and she walked into the bank.

  Mr. Coutts, Elgin’s banker, wasted little time on the formalities. “Lady Elgin, we are acting as magicians here, using one debt to pay another. It has to end.”

  Mary scoured the ledger books listing the debts that Elgin had accumulated. His purchases in France were far more extensive and expensive than she’d realized. He had commissioned furniture makers and other artisans to create whole suites to fill Broomhall. He had collected paintings and tapestries to cover its many walls. And he had yet to pay for any of it.

  But these sorts of debts were trifling compared to the expenses of running the embassy in Constantinople. The British government still refused to reimburse them for one cent spent over their meager annual allowance, which had covered very little of the cost. Mary and Elgin had generously purchased and shipped food and munitions to the troops in Egypt, certain that they would be repaid for being patriots at a crucial time in their country’s history. But despite Mary’s appeals to the most powerful people she knew to intercede, the government’s position remained unchanged. Mary explained all of this to Mr. Coutts.

  “There is nothing to be done about that,” said the banker. “Lord Elgin’s decisions have left him many thousands of pounds in debt, and I see no hope of assistance from His Majesty’s government. That is unfortunate.

  “But there is a larger issue at the moment. I understand that it was always the strict position of Parliament that Lord Elgin himself would fund the artistic endeavors in Greece. It was always going to be an expensive venture, but once the project turned from making drawings and molds to excavation and acquisition, costs mounted exponentially. Are you aware of the ultimate costs of the salvage efforts? Those alone surpass all the
other debts combined.

  “Now the marbles are arriving, and the import duties must be paid. The sums are enormous,” he said, showing her the invoices from the docks. “There is simply not a dime with which to pay. As you are undoubtedly aware, Lord Elgin has asked William Hamilton to find a suitable space so that he might make an exhibition of the marbles. Mr. Hamilton has suggested Buckingham House, or perhaps Gloucester House.”

  She was not aware of this fact at all. She had thought that Elgin’s mother was arranging for storage. The two houses mentioned were among the most palatial in London. What was Elgin thinking? Where did he think the money would come from to pay for these things?

  “Lord Elgin informed Mr. Hamilton that you would be paying for the leasing of the exhibit space out of your private funds,” Mr. Coutts went on. “Is that correct, Lady Elgin?” The man peered at Mary over his monocle.

  “No, that is not correct. My husband is mistaken,” she said, embarrassed, for she had disclosed a disagreement between husband and wife, something that should always remain private. That was the way that she had been raised. But her parents did not make these sorts of extravagant decisions independently. As the government thought that Elgin was a purse it could tap, so Elgin thought the same of his wife.

  “I see. I did speak to your father about it, as Lord Elgin also suggested that he might pay for the exhibition, but he too declined, citing the fortune he had already spent on the acquisition,” Coutts replied.

  “There is another matter,” he said. “Reverend Hunt called upon us yesterday. He has not been reimbursed for any expenses he incurred on Lord Elgin’s behalf. He is quite destitute. He presented a great ledger of things, all of his travels throughout Greece and Turkey. But he had no promissory notes. Even if he did, I’m afraid there is not a dime with which to pay him. He has quit Lord Elgin’s service and is going to work for the Duke of Buckingham. I advised the fellow to make a formal, written contract.”

  Elgin had not had a more loyal, enthusiastic, and knowledgeable member of his staff than Hunt. After Mary settled all of the debts, she would see what she might do for poor Mr. Hunt. In the meanwhile, she had just a few weeks before she would be confined. After the birth—she knew from experience—she would have no energy for these matters. She must see to their finances before it was too late.

  “Do not worry, Mr. Coutts, I will see to it all. My husband and I received quite a treasure trove of gifts in Constantinople. I do hate to part with such lovely things, but I am quite certain that they can be sold for ample money to cover what my husband owes.”

  “There is only one piece of news that gives us hope that the debts will stop mounting,” Mr. Coutts said. “We have received letters from Mr. Lusieri asking for his salary. We cannot pay him, of course.”

  “That is not good news, Mr. Coutts,” Mary said. The situation was embarrassing enough. Was he going to heap more humiliation than necessary upon her?

  “No, Lady Elgin. The good news is that the new British ambassador to the Porte has reneged all permissions for Mr. Lusieri to operate in Athens. He’s been kicked off the Acropolis. There will be no more marbles other than what has already been collected and shipped appearing at customs.”

  IT ALL WENT UP for sale—the irreplaceable diamonds and jewels given her by the Capitan Pasha and the Sultan; the furs and ivory; the china, silver, and crystal; the precious ebony boxes; the exquisite glass. All gone, all lost. Mary had barely a shawl left to remember her days in the East. She felt disloyal to the friends who had given her such extravagant gifts, and disloyal to her children, especially her daughters, who would not inherit the beautiful things, and who, unless given in marriage to a sultan themselves, would probably have no means to acquire such unique items. She remembered the night that she had cried in front of the Capitan Pasha, afraid to deliver her first baby in a foreign land. To demonstrate his friendship, he had sent the magnificent sapphire the very next day. Mary thought of her friend as she looked one last time at the brilliant blue gem, surrounded by diamonds, still sitting on its pillow of gold Turkish velvet. What would the pasha think if he knew what had become of the Elgins? How sad he would feel if he saw his exalted Lady Elgin pawning her jewels to pay her husband’s debts. Though she knew that the extravagant gold-threaded costumes that Hanum had given her would fetch a good price, Mary hid them away, determined to salvage at least one memento of the warm and unlikely friendship that had helped to sustain her in a foreign land.

  There were other worries. The Dowager Lady Elgin, who had been inexplicably cold to her daughter-in-law since she’d arrived back in England, had managed to store the main shipment of the marbles, the first fifty crates that had arrived on the Braakel, at the home of the Duke of Richmond, but that man was getting impatient at having his estate used as a depository for tons of marble. Elgin wrote long letters to Mary demanding that she find them a new home.

  You must take an inventory, Mary, and then agree to take responsibility on the lease of a house, which Hamilton is hunting for at this time.

  Why did he think he could order her to do this and that as if she were just another member of his staff? Did he not remember that she was with child? The cramping had already begun. There was no way to tell when the baby would come, or how it would come—whether it would be a horrible labor or merely a terrible one. She was determined to settle their finances before she was incapacitated. She did not want to face further embarrassment. Word of debts and of unpaid staff spread like a plague through London society, and these days, people did not need one more excuse to gossip about young Lady Elgin.

  Her letters began again:

  Your cash is going to the dogs! You know that I like pretty things too, Elgin, but think of the disgrace of it. All your stocks are gone, thousands of pounds are owed, and people are constantly demanding their money! You know what I am capable of when I take matters into my own hands, but you must give me unlimited powers until I have got everything in order, and above all, you must not buy one more item! Please, Elgin, take my advice and listen to me. If only you knew what I have been through since I have been home, how bad is our condition, and how much it has put me into despair!

  Word must have spread of Elgin’s dire financial condition. Mary received a letter from His Majesty’s government inquiring about the purchase of the marbles Lord Elgin had collected while serving in Constantinople. But no monetary sum was mentioned.

  How was she supposed to fix a sum? What on earth might they be worth?

  Luckily, a friend appeared in London, just when she most needed his counsel.

  “I need your help, Mr. Ferguson,” she said. The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She had not taken the time to inquire of his health or his family, or how he found his homeland after an absence of so many years. She was so exquisitely happy to see his face at this time and to know that, with only weeks at most to get her affairs in order, she could depend upon him.

  “At your service as always and forevermore so long we both shall live and breathe, milady,” he said without taking a breath. He had not lost an iota of his intensity, Mary could tell, nor had his feelings for her diminished. He did not have to say a word; his delight in seeing her shone in his eyes.

  She told him that the government had finally expressed an interest in buying the marbles.

  “Mr. Ferguson, I have no idea how to proceed. If I propose a figure, it might be far beneath what the stones are worth. After all the pain and expense we have been through with these marbles, it would be a great tragedy to undersell them.”

  Ferguson sat rapt, listening to everything she had to say, as if nothing in the world were as important as grasping her needs and attending to them. What sort of man was this, who made himself completely available to a lady? He was like some knight out of a medieval romance, with his chivalrous behavior, for which he had never demanded a thing in return.

  “I shall be entirely honest with you,” she said, feeling a bit appalled that she was about to re
veal to him the truth of her position. “I need the money to cover Lord Elgin’s debts, which have been made exponentially worse by what we have spent on the marbles. I must say that it would be a great relief to sell them and to let the government see to their care.”

  “I have observed for some time that you have been exhausted with the burden of Lord Elgin’s obsession,” he said.

  “Then I am aghast at my own indiscreet behavior,” she replied, though she was gratified that someone had seen and acknowledged all that she had done for Elgin.

  “There is no need, milady. We spent much time together. I would be aghast if in those long hours of working side by side, I did not recognize the toll your labors were taking on you.”

  Was ever a gentleman so kind? But she was uncomfortable pursuing this line of dialogue. She needed his help right now, not his sympathy.

  “I do not wish to make a hasty decision on the sale of the marbles, Mr. Ferguson. I believe that Lord Elgin and I would regret it for years to come. And that is why I need your help.”

  She wondered if she was playing a dangerous game, depending on this man who so doted on her every wish while her husband was imprisoned and she was feeling so vulnerable and tired. But Elgin himself had written to Robert asking for his assistance in several matters. Elgin had agreed that horses and other livestock he owned should be sold to cover some of his debts. Even Elgin, in his circumstances in which he seemed not to regard his wife at all, knew that a pregnant woman should not be left to see to these transactions. Ferguson, a man of the world, easily arranged for the sales, as well as arranging to have some paintings and other items sold discreetly at auction.