Disclaimers: I don't own Sydney and Nigel, sadly, but since the TV companies aren't interested in playing with Syd and Nigel anymore, I thought I would. Please do not reproduce any of the story without my permission. Thank you.

Lovers of Legend

by Katy

Professor Sydney Fox strode defiantly out of the British Library, not curbing her pace until she had crossed the forecourt and reached the edge of the Euston Road. Only then, standing under the brick gateway to the complex, did she concede that the persistent drizzle was turning into quite purposeful rain. She paused, pulled a neat black umbrella out of her shoulder bag, and shook it open with an aggression that was more appropriate for one wielding a lethal weapon.

'Sydney!' The professor turned and glared, although her anger was not really meant for the victim of her gaze. Her teaching assistant, Nigel Bailey, had caught up with her, having left the library, practically running, moments after her. Slightly out of breath, he opened his mouth to speak again but was silenced when Sydney got in first.

'Well, that was a complete waste of time! We're going straight back to the airport and getting the first flight back to the states. I just hope there aren't any more delays.'

Nigel hesitated for a second, unsure which case to plea first, or whether it was wise to challenge Sydney at all in the temper she was in. He would certainly like to spend more than one frenetic day 'at home' before dashing back to the U.S.A. Whether the cause of their trip was a waste of time or not, there was plenty of research in London they could usefully spend time. Moreover, there were special places – quiet gardens, neglected museums, and moonlit walks - that he would have liked to have revisited and was secretly looking forward to sharing with his 'boss'. But, more to the point, he was not so sure that the meeting Sydney had just stormed out of was quite so unsuccessful.

'Syd, I'm sorry, but…but…I think that Tadman – whoever he was - might have been onto something.'

Sydney was striding off down the road now, her eyes darting out across the traffic, scanning for an unengaged cab. Hearing this, however, she paused and turned her head towards her now somewhat rain-soaked assistant.

'Really? But that key letter, the one from the Count, it was so obviously a forgery.'

'Yes, but that second one. I think it was real. And I think the locket does exist, but it belonged to different set of historical lovers.'

……………

Sydney and Nigel had been summoned to England by a conman.

The alleged 'Dr Tadman' had contacted Sydney purporting to be a lecturer at a London university. He had used authentic i.d. and details that could not have just been stolen off the website. More pertinently, he sent scans of documents that seemed to point to the whereabouts of a pure, 5 carat diamond that was said to have been given by Marie Antoinette to her greatest love, Count Von Fersen. The diamond was embedded into the front of a weighty, but extremely beautiful locket, known, apparently, as the San Josef.

Although initially she sensed a scam, Sydney had become carried away enough with the apparent authenticity of the evidence, consisting of a letter from the Count himself authorising, rather unromantically, the sale of the diamond. This had been faxed to her from England, with the promise of more such compelling documents if she met with Tadman in London.

He also sent, guaranteeing her interest, a tantalising letter recently sent to Tadman himself, who was a renowned historian of modern European history, at least according to his credentials. This claimed that the jewel had emerged and been put on the black market by an unsavoury trader, known by name but not by appearance to Sydney, called Bellimo. The man claiming to be Tadman had thus claimed to contact her for obvious reasons. It would not take much for a world class Relic Hunter to locate the current whereabouts of the diamond and snatch it from under the noses of the 'bad guys.' They could then place a priceless and fascinating relic from one of history's most fascinating queens back in a museum where it could be admired and studied by all.

On meeting Tadman, who was a sturdily built man in his late 30s, with greying blonde hair and piercing sea-green eyes, the story had apparently fallen apart. The letter from Von Ferson was, to the trained eye, unauthentic: the handwriting was well-done, but the paper was obviously modern. A pathetic attempt had been made to make it look old, which could convince on the scan, but did not do so in real life. Moreover, halfway through the interview, a disturbing e-mail came through from Karen informing her that Dr. Tadman was not Dr. Tadman. After so many set-ups, Sydney had decided to play it safe and had requested a photo of the lecturer from his university. Rather tardy with their response, it only came through after they had left Trinity University, and Karen had sent it as soon as she could.

The message flashed up on Sydney's screen, unobserved by Tadman, as Nigel, also unconvinced by the Von Fersen letter, began to quiz him about a further piece of evidence. This was a government document stating that a woman named Emmeline Hart had reported a locket stolen in early 1815, in Calais, France, which answered to the same description, and was inscribed on the back with the words San Josef. However, once Sydney read the warning email, she had no more time for their new companion. He was obviously just a crook who wanted her to find a pricey diamond that would turn out to have no historical significance. He no doubt ultimately intended to double cross her and disappear with the jewel. She stood up abruptly, grabbing Nigel by the arm and pulling him up with her, causing him to break off midsentence.

'This isn't Dr Tadman, Nigel. He's no academic - just some crook. I bet he couldn't even get a readers ticket for this place. Let's go.'

Tadman looked alarmed. Nigel pulled his arm away and looked from the other man to his boss in confused trepidation. 'But Syd…Dr Tadman… the second letter, it's …'

'Let's go, Nigel!' said Sydney, and swept out of the coffee shop towards the escalator.

Nigel, then, didn't get to finish the sentence until he was rushing up the street after her in the rain. Water was now dripping off his hair and down his face, making him look rather bedraggled, but finally he had Sydney's attention.

'I'm listening,' said Syd, whose stony countenance was suddenly brightened by a giggle. 'Why are you standing in the rain? You look like a drowned rat! Why don't you come under the umbrella?'

Nigel obeyed, shuffling right under the canvas, very close to Sydney so he could feel her breath on his cheek and the warmth of her curves. He then took an abrupt step back: the rain now ran down the back of his neck, but he felt somewhat safer. That had been too close!

He took a deep breath, and began to plea his cause: 'The first document, that was rubbish, I agree. Besides, it is unlikely Von Ferson would have sold such an heirloom, if it had ever existed. He suffered from his association with the French queen, but his family were always wealthy. However…..the second document, I think was authentic. I have heard a legend of the San Josef diamond. It's just that it never belonged to Marie Antoinette, it belonged to Lady Emma Hamilton, the lover of Admiral Lord Nelson. And - this is the clincher - she died in poverty in Calais in 1815. It is very likely, if such diamond did exist, and she never sold it or lost it at gambling, she would have had it with her until she died. Just before you…er…left, he was telling me that he had further documentation that showed she had the locket returned to her. Surely she then put it somewhere safe before she died. It wouldn't be easy to find. But if anybody could do it...you could.'

Sydney looked momentarily thoughtful. 'There might be something in that…I knew San Josef rang a bell, but I thought it was all part of the hoax…but, I'm not sure I want to take this any futher, Nigel. That isn't Dr. Tadman. The university sent a picture of an older guy, in his late 50's. One letter in the possession of a conman is just too tenuous a lead…'

'We've chased after less convincing evidence, Syd! Remember Claudia's 'vision' of Cleopatra's necklace?'

'That was thoroughly convincing. And it worked!'

'Well…I'm convinced now,' pleaded Nigel. 'Lord Nelson was always a hero of mine, and, well…his love for Lady Hamilton was one of history's great romances. Finding this would make so many more people interested in their story… Let's just stay and look into it, just for a day. Please, Syd.'

Sydney surveyed her associate, who had backed further out from under the brolly. His soaking wet shirt was beginning to stick to his back and arms. It clung to a rather nice, shapely little body, she mused, before snapping her attention back to the matter in hand. She slipped her arm through his, pulling him back under the umbrella and leading him on up the street.

'Okay, Nigel. I'm not quite convinced but let's find somewhere dry for coffee, then let's see if you can induce me to stay.'

Nigel grinned. 'I'll do my utmost, Syd.'