“I am, sir, though the Garden now belongs to the state of New York,” replied the doctor. “And please allow me to introduce my friend, Lord Wrexford, who is a member of both the Royal Society and Royal Institution . . .”
The three of them went through the ritual of formal introductions, and requisite exchange of pleasantries, and then it was von Stockhausen who solved the earl’s dilemma on how to bring up Becton by broaching the subject himself.
“Dr. Hosack, please accept my condolences on Mr. Becton,” said the Prussian, inclining a stiff bow. “He mentioned you often in his letters as an esteemed man of science and a dear friend.”
“Thank you. I feel his loss deeply,” replied Hosack. “He was a brilliant botanist and a very fine fellow—always cheerful and exceedingly generous about sharing his knowledge with others.” A pause. “But then, I believe you already know that. Didn’t the two of you spend some time together traveling with von Humboldt and Bonpland on their epic expedition through the wilds of Spanish America?”
“Indeed, we did.” A faraway look seemed to soften von Stockhausen’s gaze for a moment. “Though Becton left us after several months to travel on his own through Guyana, and then to Cuba and the West Indies, while I remained with the main expedition for another six months.”
“It must have been quite an experience to work with von Humboldt,” observed Wrexford. “The breadth of his knowledge and his discoveries—minerals, insects, and animal specimens, as well as the wealth of new plant species—are legendary.”
“Yes, he’s a man of extraordinary accomplishments,” agreed von Stockhausen. “I learned a great deal from him.” He stared meditatively at the tiny bubbles fizzing in his wine. “But it’s important not to dwell on what one has experienced and accomplished in the past. I believe that to keep making progress in science, one should focus on the present and the future.”
“I’m sure Becton shared your sentiments,” murmured Hosack. “He never basked in the glory of his past achievements, but kept looking for new ways to make life better for everyone.”
Von Stockhausen’s brow furrowed slightly. He appeared to hesitate, as if trying to decide whether to speak or not. Wrexford held his tongue, hoping silence would encourage the Prussian to speak his mind.
“As to that . . .” Clearing his throat with a brusque cough, von Stockhausen shifted his stance before going on. “In his last few letters, Becton hinted that he was working on a very important project, one that he felt held great potential. I do hope his papers and research have been passed to the Royal Society, so that despite his death, his ideas will live on.”
The truth, decided Wrexford, was the best answer. “I’m not aware of what happened to his papers.”
His response deepened the Prussian’s frown. “I . . .” Von Stockhausen took a moment to glance around. “I had supper with Becton before the start of the symposium, and I had the impression he was nervous about something. However, when I mentioned it, he made light of the matter. But then . . .”
His mouth thinned for a moment. “But then, at the end of the meal, a man came over to our table and began pressing Becton to reconsider the deal he had been offered.”
“A deal?” asked Wrexford, feigning surprise. “Did Becton elaborate on what that was?”
Another hesitation. “Actually, he did. He told me the man was a fellow member of his scientific society in America. A merchant by the name of Tobias Quincy.”
It appears Quincy hadn’t been willing to take Becton’s refusals in New York for a final answer,thought Wrexford.
Von Stockhausen looked to Hosack. “Are you acquainted with him, sir?”
The doctor glanced at Wrexford, who took care not to react. The Prussian’s English might be a little rough around the edges, but his eyes held a sharp intelligence.
“Yes,” answered Hosack. “Quincy is a founding member of the New York Botanical Society, and has been a generous benefactor of many of its projects.”
A look of distaste quivered at the corners of von Stockhausen’s mouth. “He struck me as a very havey-cavey sort of fellow. And I don’t think Becton thought highly of him, either.” The Prussian frowned. “Are you saying that Quincy possesses any botanical expertise? He didn’t strike me as a man of science.”
“Yes, he does,” confirmed Hosack. “In fact, he’s working with his cousin, who owns vast cotton plantations in South Carolina, on ways to improve the plant’s yield. To that end, he hired another American botanist—a man named Jeremiah Adderley—to assist in the research.”
The information appeared to further unsettle von Stockhausen. “Adderley?” He sucked in his breath. “But . . .”
“But what?” said Wrexford softly.
The Prussian’s expression pinched in uncertainty for a moment, but then he decided to speak. “It’s just that, well, having traveled in Spanish America, I have kept up a correspondence with acquaintances there, and hear news from time to time. Several years ago, there was an incident concerning a man named Adderley, who was part of an American naval visit to the Spanish viceroy in New Granada.”
After a quick look around, he continued. “It was said he tried to smuggle some rare plant specimens that were forbidden to be exported onto his ship.”
“I see,” responded the earl, keeping his voice neutral.
After waiting for a trio of scholars to pass by them and enter one of the display rooms, von Stockhausen ventured to ask, “This man Quincy—you mentioned that he is a generous benefactor of the New York Botanical Society. Does that mean he’s very wealthy?”
Hosack looked a little surprised at the question, but nodded. “Yes, he’s a very wealthy man.”
Von Stockhausen pondered the answer for a moment. “Becton didn’t mention Quincy’s money. Nor did he explain the details of the deal for which the merchant was pressing.”
He shifted abruptly and drew back into the shadows of the decorative colonnade, gesturing for them to join him.
