Lessons in Solving the Wrong Problem - Charlie Cochrane Page 0,5
Dr Coppersmith. I assure you that if it had been as interesting as this one, Mama would have taken you to see it, but it’s suffered at the hands of the villa robbers. Excavated, the best bits taken, and re-covered with turf.”
“This would have happened in the days of the old queen, I’m guessing?” Applecross asked, as he rubbed a few stray pieces of pastry from his fingers. “The archaeologists then were terrible rogues. Ripped everything of beauty out of its context then took it home or to the local museum. Left us puzzling over what era the stuff dates from, or how it would have worked in situ. We are fortunate that this villa remained undiscovered for so long and that the Byrd family take their responsibilities towards scholarship sufficiently seriously.”
Orlando took in the marquee and all it contained. “He evidently has an enthusiasm for the project.”
“Indeed. When I first worked out whose land this is and made an appointment to see him, I was worried we wouldn’t be able to persuade his lordship to let us dig but when he saw the photographs, he turned out to be keener than some of the students at getting the ruins exposed. Do you know, he potters down for an hour or so when he can, and he’s allowed to clear bits of wall with his trowel or wash up Samian ware sherds. He’s like a child with a new toy. Apparently,” Applecross cast a swift glance over his shoulder towards the marquee entrance, “his father, Lord Michael Byrd, was a bit of an antiquarian and the present owner of the manor thinks it’s one in the eye for the old man that he’s had this discovered on his land when the father didn’t, despite digging the occasional trench where he felt he might turn something up. Didn’t leave us any records to go on, though. All very cavalier.”
“That’s a shame. It would no doubt help to know where not to dig?”
“Exactly. Still, there’s nothing to be done about it now.” Applecross sighed. “May be best not to mention him. No love lost between father and son when the old lord was alive, I suspect.”
Jonty shot Orlando an intrigued glance, which he acknowledged with a faint nod. That sounded exactly like the kind of thing they’d be told prior to being asked to investigate an old crime that so far had defied solution. Was there any chance their visit here wasn’t entirely connected with hypocausts?
“The Byrds are not a family I’ve come across,” Jonty said, pushing aside his empty plate and taking up a glass of water. “I must ask Papa about them. He appears to know everyone, whether they’re listed in Burke’s or not.”
“A man of legend, your father, if you’ll forgive me saying so,” Applecross observed. “I had the pleasure of meeting him once and I’d say he’s a man never to be forgotten.”
“He is indeed. To paraphrase your previous observation about our host, I’d say there’s plenty of love lost between him and his children. Still,” Jonty added, with a twinkle in his eye, “It’s always fun to meet somebody the old chap doesn’t know, thereby getting one over on him in the social stakes, so I can understand the pleasure Lord Henry takes in his very own villa.”
As if they were in a drawing room comedy, Applecross glanced up and said, “Here’s the man himself!”
Orlando looked over to where a well-dressed chap in tweeds had entered the marquee. Without Applecross’s words, they’d have been able to guess the newcomer—every inch a peer of the realm—was the landowner. The deference shown by those present would also have sealed the case. His lordship surveyed the company, then made a beeline for Applecross, where the empty seat which had been so puzzling now made sense. Had it been kept free deliberately in case the man himself made an appearance?
Lord Henry paused, hands on the back of his chair, eyeing Jonty, who had turned his head round to get a view of the visitor. “Is that a Stewart I see before me?”
“It is, sir.” Jonty rose, then offered his hand to be shaken. “Jonathan, known as Jonty.”
His lordship pumped the hand up and down. “Very pleased to meet you. You’re the image of your mother, but I suppose you know that.”
“I’ve been told so often, yes.” Jonty beamed. “And I count myself lucky to have inherited her bone structure.”
“Magnificent woman. Like many of my generation, I’d have married her in a