by Gloria Gay
“They married young,” Jane observed.
“She describes the first time they met.” Jestyn pointed to the middle of the page.
Jane read the passage, which described the first time The Honorable Julia Pinker, daughter of Sir Alan Jude Pinker of Green Dale Hall and Lady Cecilia Bernadette Salings, met Samuel Greywick for the first time on her sister Amelia’s engagement ball at Green Dale Hall.
They read for a while, taking turns. But nothing in the diary gave them the tiniest lead toward Jane’s pendant. No jewelry was mentioned in the first fifty pages and only toward the end was an engagement ring mentioned.
Jane’s hand closed around her pendant. How often she had done this, thinking she would return to the future in the same way she had gone back to the past, by touching the pendant. But it never worked.
Why had it worked in London, sending her spinning so frightfully to the past and now, when she wanted to return to her life in the future the pendant was acting as just an ordinary pendant?
She had been certain that eventually she would leave Jestyn and had been sorry that she would never see him again, but now there existed the possibility that she would be forced to stay in the past, among people that suspected her of witchcraft merely because of the way she dressed and talked.
No, that couldn’t be happening to her. She must find the way!
“I can imagine what you’re thinking,” Jestyn cut into her thoughts. “You’re afraid there is no going back to your own time.”
“Why doesn’t the pendant work to take me back anymore?” she asked, unaware that her eyes filled with tears. She couldn’t remain here. Although she was growing more and more attached to Jestyn she couldn’t live in a place where women were chattel, as unable as children to decide anything in their own lives.
“We’ll find the way,” Jestyn said, his hand covering Jane’s comfortingly.
“I want so much to believe that, Jestyn,” Jane said, wiping the tears from her eyes. Jestyn’s hand on hers felt so sweet that she placed her right hand on his.
Jestyn glanced at his Aunt Florinda, busy with her embroidery, and then at Jane. “Let’s go on reading Grand mamma’s diary.”
Reluctantly, Jane let go of his hand and they looked into each other’s eyes.
“I know,” Jane agreed as she flicked the page to the next entry. And they both knew what she meant.
For a while they read the diaries. Jane read Julia’s and Jestyn read the household accounts where he thought he might find the purchase of the pendant. Again she wondered why it was that none of the Greywick women had worn the pendant.
“You must have posed many times for the portrait, since portraits aren’t done in one day,” Jane said. Do you ever remember seeing the artist with the pendant? What if the artist painted the pendant on your portrait, then your father saw the pendant in your hand and ordered the artist to remove it? When was that portrait of you made, Jestyn?”
“That wasn’t the only portrait of me done,” Jestyn said. “My father did not approve of the first portrait of me that was made. I believe he insisted on another portrait and the artist acceded.”
“Another portrait! What became of the first portrait?” asked Jane, instantly alert. This disclosure of Jestyn’s was of great importance.
“I don’t know. I remember that father hated it. I had no idea why since the artist made a similar one. Look, Jane, there’s a passage here in Father’s hand concerning the portrait.”
Jestyn read it out loud but the entry dealt only with the price of the portrait. Most of the entries were of estate business, social gatherings he and Mrs. Greywick had attended and short journeys he had made, all in minute detail.
When Jestyn was about to suggest they take a break and order their tea be brought to the library, Jane, whose turn it was to read, exclaimed in surprise. “Jestyn–I think this is important, look!”
Jestyn immediately read where Jane pointed:
I have become incensed at the artist, Kelliton Cannidge’s depiction of my son Jestyn in the portrait I had ordered made of him. I was so upset it ruined my whole day for I noticed he had included an object that Jestyn had not posed with.
On witnessing my ire at his conduct, Cannidge immediately agreed to do another painting for not only had he added an object Jestyn does not own but he had painted Jestyn as he would have looked in a few years—older. This would make him seem a lot older than Cedric, whose portrait is already finished.
I cannot believe how vain some artists are. It is outrageous how dependent we are to them in the depiction of our likenesses. Many of them try to add their own style to the features that were given to us by our Lord and that do not need any improvement. Certainly not from art masters who believe themselves above everything and try to impose a style that distorts nature.
“And you don’t remember seeing the pendant among the artist’s paint jars or in his hand?” Jane asked.
“No. I had never heard of the pendant until you showed it to me.”
“Your father’s dislike of that first portrait must have been because the artist, for some reason known only to him painted the pendant in your hand that made your father furious. That must have been the reason he insisted he make another portrait of you. But it’s amazing it was only your father who could see the pendant, while you didn’t!”
“That makes sense,” said Jestyn, his interest piqued. “I remember that after my sessions with Cannidge ended I went to London, on some errands for my father. The dates with my trip to London and this entry in the journal coincide.
“Father told me when I got back from London that I had to pose again because he had rejected my painting. He didn’t give me an explanation when I asked. And I didn’t press the issue because I saw how upset he was with it.
“Maybe that first portrait is around somewhere – hidden by father. But I’m absolutely sure of one thing: I never saw a pendant painted in my hand in either portrait.
“The pendant you have has a Druid symbol but I don’t know what it means, or why the artist had seen fit to paint it in my hand in the first portrait, if he did.”
“Maybe the artist was descendant of enemies of your family and that was his way of some kind of revenge. Your house is like a castle, Jestyn. I can imagine boiling oil being tossed down to your enemies.”
Jestyn laughed. “That seems a bit far-fetched, Jane. But I guess we shouldn’t discard any idea. If we can’t find the painting, we’ll find the artist. I’m certain I can locate the painting, though. He painted the first portrait about six years ago–that’s not too long, is it? It was three years before my father died.”
“I think even if we find the painting we should talk to the artist, Jestyn,” Jane said. “And once we find him we must be careful how we ask him why he painted the pendant in your hand. If we cannot find the painting it’s almost certain the artist took it back. I’m acquainted with a couple of artists and I think they value their work even if sometimes other people don’t. If your father refused to pay for that portrait the artist probably claimed it as his. And if so he probably still has the painting.”
“He may have just left it in the house and it was stored in the attic,” Jestyn said. “Father was a generous person. I think that he would have paid the artist even if he didn’t accept the portrait. In that case the artist would have left it in the house and Father stored it somewhere up here where he couldn’t see it, since he had taken such a dislike to it. We must not discard any possibility, however unlikely.”
“We’ll contact Cannidge even if we do find the painting,” Jestyn added. “He may know more about the pendant. It’s important we gather as much information as we can, so we can return you to your time. I sent him a message and should be hearing from him soon. I told him in my letter that I wanted to meet with him in relation to the painting he had done of me.”
“But,” he added, “Can you imagine how many secret places there are in a place as vast as this estate? There have been many additions thro
ughout the hundreds of years it has existed.”
“That’s the only chance I have of returning to my time, Jestyn,” Jane said. “Why don’t we look for it first, and if we can’t find it anywhere, then we’ll contact the artist. Are there any places other than the attic where it could be stored, some secret panel?”
“If there are secret panels we’ll find them, Jane, I promise you,” Jestyn said. “We’ll go room by room and consult the journals. Parts of the estate were added at different times so we just have to find the entries in the journals and check each and every room.”
“Thank you, Jestyn.”
Jestyn put his hand on Jane’s cheek. “I would rather you stayed here always, with me, but I know you must return to your time.”
Aunt Florinda accompanied them to the attic door but remained in a tiny sitting-room by the gallery.
“Too dusty, in there, my dears,” said Aunt Florinda, taking up her embroidery, “I can chaperone you from here just as well. Especially since no one downstairs knows our exact whereabouts,” she added with her sweet smile.
“This is the second of the two large attics,” Jestyn said as he opened the huge door and led Jane inside. The entrance was wide and high, in order that large pieces of furniture could be moved into the rooms. They used Jane’s flashlight to light their way but they had also taken a couple of candles to examine the place by candlelight. Jane didn’t want to exhaust the flashlight’s batteries.
“There are three smaller attics,” said Jestyn. “Cedric and I liked this one better when we were children because it has many more nooks for hiding and exploring.” He settled the candle rack on a secure place and turned to Jane.
They walked around for a while, stopping where there were beds, for a painting might be stored underneath a bed. They also looked carefully behind stacks of wooden crates filled with objects.
After about an hour or so of stopping here and there Jane stopped before a wardrobe.
“What’s in that vault-like wardrobe, Jestyn?” Jane asked as she and Jestyn reached a massive wardrobe. Jestyn tried the door.
“Is it locked?”
“This lock has no pin to hold it, so rusted it is,” Jestyn said, pulling at it. “I don’t think Cedric and I could unlock it years ago when we tried but the years have deteriorated the lock.
“The hinges are so rusted the door hardly moves. It’s stuck, I guess.”
“Let’s both pull at it,” said Jane, trembling with excitement.
“No, Jane,” Jestyn objected. “You shouldn’t be making any effort. Just stay back. I’ll manage alone. If I can’t open it I’ll get a footman to help me. I’d just rather not involve anyone else in our business, though. Maybe we could just wait until Cedric comes back from Exeter tomorrow, if I can’t open it.”
“All right,” Jane agreed.
Jestyn got a good hold of the edge of the door and pulled with all his might but the door would just not budge.
“Maybe if you slide something between, as a wedge of some kind,” Jane provided, looking around. The reporter in her was anxious to see what was in the wardrobe and was too impatient to wait until Cedric came back from Exeter.
“Look Jestyn. Here’s a trowel shovel of some kind. Maybe this will do,” she handed the small trowel to Jestyn. It looked like the kind for putting mortar on bricks when stacking them.
Jestyn slid the small trowel between the door and the wardrobe and pushed. The door creaked and finally gave way.
“There, it’s open! Bring the light over here, Jane.”
“Oh, my,” Jane said as both she and Jestyn stared at a large painting stuck in the back of the huge wardrobe. It was the portrait of Jestyn. Their eyes flew to his hand and then at each other. In Jestyn’s hand was the stone pendant Jane was wearing in the exact way she had seen it in her tour of the estate, with its gold chain twirled around his fingers.
“This is the first time I see the pendant painted in my hand,” Jestyn said. “I wonder what that means, that I can now see it.”
“Father put it here, as I supposed,” Jestyn said. He stared at the portrait as Jane moved the light closer. “I’ll try to get it out. It’s very large.”
“I wonder he didn’t just destroy, it, since he hated it so much,” Jane said.
“Yes, that’s strange, but then Father was very superstitious. He might not have wanted to destroy it for that reason.
“Maybe we can find something written by Father that explains further.”
“I hope so,” Jane said. She led the way with the flashlight, with Jestyn following behind. They reached the dusty table where they had placed the candle rack.
“Jestyn rested the portrait against a nearby wall. “Let’s examine the portrait up here and return it to its hiding place when we’re done. I don’t think we should move it from where it was. The servants would carry the story of this second portrait until there wasn’t a soul who didn’t know about it, including our neighbors, Lord and Lady Millthorpe.”
“I agree with you, Jestyn. Let’s keep it to ourselves. It will be the only way we can work on uncovering its secret.”
“I think our next move will be to talk with the artist. He lives in Lydford. I know a little about him.”
“And he would still be there?”
“Oh, yes. His family is there, whatever is left of them. He had a brother and a sister. I heard a couple of years ago that the mother died. The sister and her husband and two children lived with him until they could set up their own household. Around here everybody knows everybody else’s business,” Jestyn added with a wide smile. “So Cannidge now lives alone, except for an aunt who lives with him and who keeps house for him.
“I’m so anxious that we talk with him, Jes. But,” she added, “don’t you think I should touch the pendant as I did back in my own time?”
“I…” Jestyn hesitated. “I don’t want you to leave too suddenly, Jane. The thought of you disappearing if you touch the pendant just now gave me a pain in my heart.”
They stood up and for the first time embraced.
There were tears in both their eyes.
“But I know you must try it,” said Jestyn. “After all, that’s why we’re here in the attic, to find a way for you to go back home.”
He straightened the portrait and put its back against the wardrobe.
He then turned to Jane. “Go ahead,” he said, his voice full of sadness. “You’re in danger here.”
They embraced again and they both knew this could be good-bye. Jestyn kissed Jane tenderly and Jane felt the kiss clear down to her heart.
Jane went close to the portrait, kneeled down, and slowly and softly touched the pendant in Jestyn’s hand in the portrait.
A few seconds went by as Jane kept her hand pressed to the pendant in the portrait.
Nothing happened.
She turned to Jestyn and heard his sigh of relief.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “I have no right to wish you to remain with me.”
“You have the right love gives you, Jestyn. But as you saw, it didn’t work,” Jane said.
“I’m sorry that I hoped it wouldn’t, Jane,” Jestyn said.
“I, too, hoped it didn’t, Jestyn,” Jane said. “At least not suddenly. But we both know I must leave.”
“Yes.”
CHAPTER 10
“I shall miss you every day for the rest of my life,” Jestyn said in a low voice when they had finished their tea. Jane had exclaimed at scones that melted in her mouth and cake that made one swoon.
In the huge drawing room it was easy for them to speak in private because they were out of the earshot of servants working around the house.
“I’ll miss you too, Jestyn–so much!” Jane said. The warmth in his wonderful voice had gone straight to her heart. “I’ve gotten so used to your voice, too. I will miss it.” Jane’s voice broke. “But we’re supposing that we will find the way for me to return. What if we don’t find it?”
“We will,” Jestyn sa
id. “We must have faith. We must,” he repeated. “Cedric told me there are rumors in town and talk that stops just as he reaches the speakers. The story I concocted of you being the daughter of an acquaintance I made when I visited the Colonies–the United States—two years ago, has not been accepted. People’s doubts about you are under the surface which they don’t express to me or to Cedric.
“Lord Halensford came by yesterday expressly to tell me about what he has been hearing. He’s alarmed at how quickly it’s growing, too. He told me there are greatly exaggerated stories being spread about you.
“Lord Halensford is the only one, apart from Cedric, who knows a bit more and he has agreed to complete confidence because he is my best friend – a lifelong friend. Giles and I grew up together as boys and even went to the same schools. I trust him as much as I trust Cedric.”
“Yes,” agreed Jane, “Lord Halensford is a wonderful person and he looks like he’s very fond of you. I like Lady Elizabeth a lot, too. She’s a kind lady. I’m sorry Lady Elizabeth lost her sister Alice to the influenza.”
“Yes,” Jestyn agreed, “that was an irreparable loss. Thankfully she has another, older sister that is married and lives not far from here. Otherwise the loss would have been too devastating for her to bear.”
“Lady Elizabeth was nice to send me some clothes that belonged to Alice,” Jane said, “Alice’s clothes are my exact same size.”
“Jestyn, there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about,” Jane added. “Today I walked without the aid of the crutches and had almost no pain in my leg.”
“I wish that would be the only impediment to your return to your time. We know nothing about how the pendant brought you here, but at least we now have proof the pendant existed somewhere here.
“I know also that you are impatient with our slow ways. I can see it in your eyes, sometimes, and it saddens me, for I fear you could never agree to stay here, even if it were possible.”
“I feel like an alien here, Jestyn. I’m glad Nellie has been allowed to remain with me because most of the other servants look at me with suspicion.”