05: DINNER

Arriving at the address, St Croix stepped out of the carriage to assist Harwood to step down. She paused for a moment, looking at the building.

“Oh, father is home; I want you to meet him, Jonathan… Mr St Croix, I mean, will you please come in?”

St Croix hesitated for a moment but then agreed. He paid the driver and handsomely rewarded him for his extended wait on Tavistock 

Evelyn ran to her father’s office as the maid took their coats. “Father, oh father, are you here?”

Opening the door to his study, she almost bumped into Scotland Yard Inspector Cooley.

“Ah, Miss Harwood, I have the pleasure of your company again; however, I must be leaving this time, so I wish you and your father a pleasant evening. Good day.”

Cooley and St Croix exchanged terse glances and tense acknowledgements as Cooley left the home.

“Father, I would like you to meet Mr Jonathan St Croix; he has been a great service to me today, as I am sure the Inspector has already mentioned to you.”

“Yes, Mr St Croix, thank you for assisting my daughter with the issue of her boot and the other affair.” 

“I am quite pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir. Your daughter has been no trouble to me, as I had no specific plans for this day.”

“No plans? Surely, as a gentleman exchanging commodities such as silver and gold for the Exchequer and the Royal Mint, I would think every day would be a venture into the unknown and the complexities of finance.”

“Well, I have a highly effective staff, and they are all beyond reproach. I would guess Inspector Cooley has recently informed you of my business.”

“Surprisingly, no. It was not through him that I learned about you and your excellent brokerage; it is just that I am on a banking committee at Westminster.”

 As he said this, his eyes narrowed, one eyebrow slightly arched, and St Croix could sense a noticeable rise in an element of fear from the Member of Parliament.

“Thank you, sir, for your praise, and I would;” St Croix stopped in mid-sentence as he noticed Harwood was wearing a distinctive lapel pin. The ‘Rampart Lion’ of England was over a red shield wearing a crown, but rather than a red enamel as the velvet colour in the top of the crown, it was a very distinctive blue, underscored with the lettering O.T.I.D.

After hesitating, Harwood suggested, “Sir, my daughter and I would be honoured if you would join us for dinner.”

“Yes, thank you very much. Sir.”

Harwood’s demeanour had changed slightly, which St Croix thought maybe because Harwood noticed his reaction to the lapel pin.

For the next two hours before dinner, Jonathon was entertained by stories of the elder Harwood’s time with the East India Company as a director on the subcontinent and his policies and direction of the Empire's efforts against the Emirate of Kabul during the war of succession between the upstart Dost Mohammad Khan and former King Shah Shuja, whom the Empire backed and successfully reinstalled on the throne.

He implied that his insistence on more support for Kabul had led to him being withdrawn from India. He believed it was his successor's fault that the main British-Indian force, upon being forced to retreat for Kabul in 1842, was almost completely massacred. He confided to St Croix that he considered this to be the darkest chapter in the history of the Empire.

His superiors refused to believe that a rag-tag group of mountain-dwelling Afghans could so exceedingly humble a great nation. They argued to such a degree that it resulted in his dismissal, saying such an event could never happen again.

St Croix spoke of his understanding and dealings with the Ottomans and how, in specific ‘unnamed’ matters, he had suggested ideas to the Turks and, on occasion, while being in Constantinople some years earlier, he had twice met with the Sultan.

For dinner, they were joined by Evelyn’s mother, Judith. She was a tall, slender woman of sophisticated countenance. Her daughter bore the same tone of flaming red hair, with brilliant shocks of white rooted at the temples. She carried an ivory-handled ebony walking stick. The handle was in the likeness of an elephant’s head, and the collar, about five inches in length, was fine filigreed gold mesh with mother-of-pearl inlay. It had been a gift to Lady Harwood when they departed India by George Eden, 1st Earl of Auckland, during his tenure as Governor-General of the East India Company’s mandated rule of India.

The conversation was polite, and Jonathan discovered that he and Judith Harwood shared a familiar friend through their discourse: Mary Wollenscraft Shelly.

St Croix had underwritten the security for a loan for Shelly for the publication of the book ‘Rambles Through Germany and Italy,’ a loan which was repaid shortly after Sir Timothy Shelly's death a few months later. Judith befriended her through her friendship with Ianthe Shelly, the daughter of Percy Bysshe Shelly and his first wife, Harriet Westbrooke.

Retiring to the study, Harwood asked, “Earlier, I noticed that you hesitated for a moment, which I find unusual for a man in your position, stature and background. What may I ask startled you?”

“If I may be frank and direct. The pin on your lapel is a scarce and unusual design.”

Walking to a corner table holding several cut crystal decanters nestled between two large leather chairs, Harwood poured two brandy snifters, offering one to St Croix and indicating that he should take a chair. “It is a common pin for members to wear; some variations exist. However, all are basically of the same merit.”

“But yours is a little more unique and somewhat, dare I say, elusive.”

“Damn it, man, St Croix, you said you wanted to speak frankly; well, what is it?”

“Sir Chester, the lettering, that is what caught my eye. O.T.I.D. That is unusual.”

“In what manner do you find it unusual?”

“Sir Chester, a man wearing a pin with O.T.I.D. on it is a rare sight. As it the Orbis Terrarum Imperium Sub Deo,”

A smile crossed Chester Harwood’s face as he swirled the brandy in his snifter to aerate it and release its aromas. Sniffing the alcohol’s perfume, without raising his head, he asked. “What do you know of the O.T.I.D. Mr St Croix, what do you know?”

Jonathan closed his eyes and, if reciting from rote, started. “The Orbis Terrarum Imperium Sub Deo was founded here in England by John Dee, A man of many talents, including mathematics, astronomy, teaching, astrology, the occult sciences, and alchemical lore.

Upon Elizabeth’s succession to the throne, he entered the Royal Court. He was a member of the Worshipful Company of Mercers, as am I, but there is no secrecy in that, and that is not what you wish to hear from me.

Dee was indeed a power behind the Elizabethan throne, as he was one of the strongest proponents for the establishment of English colonies in the New World, advocating for as many as possible and as widely spread across the globe. He is the man who coined the phrase and promoted the birth of what we now know as the British Empire.

Then, in 1577, Dee published the ‘General and Rare Memorials Pertaining to the Perfect Arte of Navigation,’ his plan for a roadmap for English territorial demands and rights for colonizing Africa, the New World and the Orient. Thus, the lettering O.T.I.D. stands for Orbis Terrarum Imperium Sub Deo, or, as it is in English, World Empire Under God.

A further interesting minor note is that the parish register of his death and gravestone are missing.” 

When St Croix had finished his recitation, the room was silent. He looked at Sir Chester, who was still looking down at his brandy glass. Then, placing it on the table, he gently applauded, stood up and shook Jonathan’s hand. “Well done, son. However, it would appear that through a chance encounter with my daughter, the incident with the Russian, the involvement of Inspector Cooley and your wisdom of the esoteric, I am a little overwhelmed for the day. Could you, if required, be at my disposal in a month or two concerning a matter of great importance?”

Jonathan most heartedly agreed with an affirmative nod and handshake.

“Now, I must ask you to leave. Please bid good evening to Judith and Evelyn, but please depart immediately. Thank you, Mr St Croix. This has been most enlightening, so until then.”

 Sir Chester’s change in demeanour took St Croix aback, but he shook his hand, bid him good evening, and left the study. 

Harwood sat at his desk contemplating this unexpected conversation. It troubled him that an unknown, or by all accounts a nobody of no account, was as knowledgeable about the O.T.I.D. As far as he knew, St Croix was not in government nor had any lineage to the peerage, so how was an ordinary gold merchant aware of such matters of the darker corridors of state?

The O.T.I.D. was a sacred trust to those in power and those with the interests of empires at heart. Not only Britannia, but France, Russia and Spain. As well as the Ottoman Turk and the Moguls in India, and even recently, the O.T.I.D. extended a hand to the new American Republic. Their mission was to release and exchange information and to aid and assist; however, all of this was done with the most profound secrecy. There would be wars and conflict, all manner of national chest-thumping and nationalist jingoism, but the O.T.I.D. was there to ensure the continuity of state, nation, and empire.

Harwood did not know the origins of the organization or its breadth and scope other than that when called upon to act, a member stood and offered their services without question. All he could think of was that if a merchant knew as much as he said, Harwood knew that he knew less than he thought. And he hoped his instincts were correct.