‘There are few more revealing sights than our fellow countrymen at prayer,’ he had said. ‘You will lean more about the English Athenians in one hour at St Paul’s than in a week spent observing them elsewhere.’
Adam was unsure that he wished to know much more about the English in Athens than he knew already. He was very certain that the professor was wrong in his assumption that they would best display their true characters while worshipping their god. However, he had chosen not to argue with Fields and had dutifully made his way to the Anglican church for the morning service. Now, here he was, crammed uncomfortably into a wooden pew, wondering anew why he had come. His eyes moved on from the ageing Philhellene and further towards the front of the congregation. He almost exclaimed aloud in surprise at what he saw. Sitting in a pew immediately beneath the pulpit was Emily Maitland. She was leaning forward, her lips slightly parted, listening to the sermon with more apparent attention than it deserved. Seated next to her, his face set in a faintly mocking smile, as if he could scarcely credit what the preacher was saying, was Lewis Garland.
Adam was astonished to see them together. The MP’s presence in Athens was, of course, no great surprise. Adam had seen him in the restaurant of the Angleterre earlier in the week. At the time, the young man had made every effort to avoid Garland’s notice, slipping out of the room before the MP had spotted him. An encounter just at that time, Adam had thought, would have proved too complicated to negotiate. He had told Quint of his sighting, but not Fields. Yet what was Emily doing in the city? This was Athens, not Switzerland or Salonika. And why was Garland in the company of the enigmatic young woman who had visited Adam in London? How did an English businessman and member of the House of Commons know her? Was she another of his conquests? It was not a pleasant notion. As the clergyman continued to mumble relentlessly about the wages of sin, Adam found he could not begin to bring his thoughts into order or to find adequate answers to all the questions that filled his mind.
When the service finally stumbled its way to its conclusion, he was the first on his feet and the first to make his way into the bright sunshine of the Sunday morning. His initial thought was to avoid coming face to face with Garland and Emily. If they had not seen him, what purpose was there in renewing acquaintance with them? If Emily was indeed one of the ageing Don Juan’s paramours, why torment himself with meeting them together? He began to walk away from St Paul’s, but he had gone no more than a hundred yards when curiosity and the overwhelming desire to speak to the young woman got the better of him. He turned and retraced his steps. The English expatriates were still trooping out of their church. The street was filled with their carriages. Ahead of him, Adam could see Lewis Garland escorting Emily towards a black landau. He hastened to intercept them.
‘Good morning, sir. I trust that you are enjoying your visit to Athens.’
The MP smiled wrily as he shook the hand Adam proffered.
‘Miss Maitland said that she was sure she had noticed you among the congregation, Mr Carver. But we could not, at first, see you as we left. And — forgive me for saying this — I had not put you down as a regular churchgoer.’
‘You are right, sir, I am not. But I was told that I could not miss the Sunday service at St Paul’s. That everybody would be here. Well, everybody English, that is.’
‘And, as you can see, your informant was correct. Everybody is here.’
Adam turned and raised his hat to the young woman.
‘I expected you to be taking the fresh mountain air by now, Miss Maitland. When we met last, I understood that you and your mother were soon to travel to Switzerland.’
‘Our plans were never set in stone, Mr Carver.’ Emily flushed very slightly as she replied. ‘After some consideration we decided that we should return to Salonika. But we have chosen to visit friends here in Athens for a week before we travel further north.’
She looked at him almost defiantly, as if he might be tempted to dispute her statement.
‘I had not realised until a few minutes ago that you and Miss Maitland knew one another, Carver. She tells me that you met in London.’ Garland made his remark seem a casual one, but there was no disguising his curiosity about the circumstances in which Adam had encountered the young lady.
‘We were introduced by friends of my mother’s, were we not, Mr Carver?’ Emily was swift to intervene. ‘In Kensington.’
‘Yes, of course, Kensington.’
‘As I was saying to my godfather’ — Emily inclined her head towards the MP — ‘it was at an afternoon tea party. In aid of charity.’
‘And what charitable organisation is it upon which you bestow your patronage, Carver?’ Garland asked. ‘I do not think that you mentioned its name, Emily.’
Adam struggled to think of some philanthropic body that he, together with Emily and her mother, might plausibly patronise.
‘The Society for the Employment of Necessitous Gentlewomen,’ he said, after a lengthy pause.
Emily stifled a giggle, transforming it into a genteel clearing of her throat. Garland raised his eyebrow and looked from the girl to the young man and back, but could scarcely express the disbelief he clearly felt.
‘What did you make of the preacher here at St Paul’s, Carver?’ he asked, changing the subject. ‘Is he a bawler, would you say? Or more of a squeaker?’
‘I’m not sure I catch your meaning, Mr Garland.’
‘Every reverend gentleman I have ever heard is one or the other. Either they bawl so loud you need earmuffs or they squeak so you can’t hear more than one word in ten.’
Adam laughed. ‘The gentleman who has delighted us this morning is more of a squeaker, I would say,’ he suggested.
‘I agree with you. Squeak, squeak, squeak. I was unable to follow his argument. Or even to hear it. His text appeared to be from Ecclesiastes and to refer, as one might expect from that depressing book, to the vanity of human wishes, but whatever benefit there might have been in his thoughts on it was entirely lost on me. What about you, my dear? Did you gain wisdom and insight from the preacher’s sermon?’
‘There is always wisdom and insight to be gained from a sermon, Mr Garland, is there not?’ Emily said, looking as if this were the last thing she truly thought.
The older man smiled. ‘So we are always led to believe, my dear,’ he said, ‘but you will excuse me for a moment. We must be on our way.’
He turned to beckon his driver towards them. Adam and the young woman looked at one another but said nothing. The black landau began to approach.
‘And how is your man Quint, Mr Carver?’ Emily said hurriedly, eager to fill the sudden silence. ‘Is he here in Athens with you?’