Tomorrow's Treasure

by Linda Lee Chaikin

  “This was Henry’s Diamond Room,” he said in a low voice. “He used to keep diamonds here from Kimberly to sell in London and Paris. He was also involved in smuggling. There was one particular diamond that he would not sell for any price.”

  “The Black Diamond?” Evy said it quickly, to show him she knew more than he thought she did.

  The surprise on his face brought a smile to her own.

  “How do you know that?”

  “From Lizzie,” she whispered ruefully.

  His mouth turned. “You are right, Evy. It was called the Black Diamond of Kimberly, very unusual and as big as an egg.”

  “Ooh, is it still here?” Arcilla looked around.

  “Uncle Julien came here and searched once or twice after Henry’s death. So did Anthony.”

  Evy came alert. “Anthony? Is he another of your uncles from South Africa?”

  He shook his head. “No. He’s a Brewster—a stepnephew of Julien’s, but because Julien had no sons, he decided to adopt Anthony when he married Lady Camilla. The Black Diamond was worth many hundreds of thousands of pounds.”

  Evy pursed her lips. “What could have happened to it?”

  “That question remains unanswered. It is either hidden here somewhere, or—”

  “It was stolen?” Evy whispered.

  Rogan’s eyes glittered. “Most likely at the same time Uncle Henry was murdered.”

  “Ooh.” Arcilla’s whisper echoed in the still room.

  “Henry’s ghost creeps about this room in search of his murderer.” Rogan’s voice deepened, and when the candle flame nearly went out, Arcilla broke for the door, but Rogan grabbed her arm. “Shh!”

  Evy’s teeth threatened to chatter, and she gritted them into submission. She looked about the room at a big desk and chair, a library shelf with books from ceiling to floor, and a glass case lined with black velvet.

  “That was where he used to keep some diamond jewelry from Kimberly.”

  It never dawned on Evy to question what Rogan said, or to wonder how he knew this. She supposed his information had come in much the same way that he had gotten hold of the key. He knew many of the secrets of Rookswood and was bent on discovering the rest of what might be hidden.

  “Of course there’s no evidence Uncle Henry was murdered,” he admitted, “or that someone came to Rookswood and stole the Kimberly Black Diamond, but whoever did it would be smart enough to make sure of that.”

  Evy agreed. Murder and diamonds … It was exciting and terrifying all at once, and she was in the very midst of the scene of the crime!

  “D-did you ever see Uncle Henry’s ghost?” Arcilla whispered to her brother.

  “I once saw what I thought was a ghost,” he said calmly.

  “You do not think so now?” Evy peered at him in the darkness.

  His dark eyes squinted at her. “I’ll tell you this much. See that closet over there? That’s where I hid when his ghost came creeping out from that door across the room. That was Henry’s private room where he would sleep sometimes when he worked up here late. That’s the room where he was murdered, but the constable and the family say he killed himself with his own pistol.”

  Arcilla tugged at her brother’s arm. “I don’t like it in here, Rogan. Let us go back to the schoolroom and finish the tea and tarts.”

  “Not until I look in the other room.”

  “What is it you are searching for? The Black Diamond?” Evy took a step toward Rogan. “You do think it’s still hidden here somewhere?”

  “I am searching for more than the diamond, but that remains my secret. I won’t tell anyone.”

  Evy knew she shouldn’t be here, but she couldn’t leave. She was determined to win Rogan’s admiration, to make him see she wasn’t afraid. So she lingered, even when Arcilla tugged at her sleeve to leave.

  “How many people in your family could have taken the Kimberly Diamond?” Evy whispered. “You mentioned Sir Julien Bley and Anthony Brewster—was there anyone else?”

  “A passel of them. There are the great-greats. All Chantrys.”

  “Not all, there’s Mama’s family, the Brewsters. Lady Brewster, our great-aunt.”

  “I forgot about her. I think she is still alive. She must be as old as Miss Armitage by now. Henry was married to one of Lady Brewster’s nieces, I think.”

  “Caroline,” Arcilla explained. “Mother told me about her. She was a sister.” Arcilla looked at Evy, and her blue eyes gleamed. “Lady Brewster’s family helped find the first diamond in Kimberly.”

  “They did not!” Rogan frowned at his sister, as though she were foolish. “Uncle Julien Bley did. And his partner—a Boer.”

  “What is a Boer?” Arcilla wrinkled her nose.

  “Ancestors of the Dutch, who went to South Africa in the 1600s from Holland. Julien is here now visiting Rookswood. He came from Germany on business and will soon be on his way back to South Africa. He didn’t know my father had already sailed for Port Elizabeth weeks ago, or that Mother—” He stopped and looked at Arcilla.

  Evy knew he had been about to mention Lady Honoria’s death.

  “Anyway, forget the Boer. Now, Sir Julien is partners with De Beer of South Africa.”

  “De Beer?” Evy frowned. There were too many names to figure them all out.

  “You don’t know who De Beer is?” Clearly Rogan found the idea incredible.

  Evy realized the man must be someone very important and that if she were to be wise, she must know about De Beer.

  “He owns almost all the diamonds in South Africa,” Rogan explained. “He has a near monopoly.”

  “But he doesn’t own the Kimberly Black Diamond,” Arcilla protested.

  “No one owns it now—except the person who stole it from Uncle Henry.”

  “It’s the biggest diamond they ever found,” Arcilla said smugly to Evy. “They will find it again, and we will be very, very rich.”

  “We already are.” Rogan shrugged. “I suppose we could have anything in the world that we took a fancy to having.” He looked at Evy. “Even people.”

  Evy’s chin came up at that. “You cannot buy and own people.”

  “Sir Julien Bley bought his wife. He wanted her, so he bought her.”

  “That’s horrid.”

  Rogan smiled. “Not to Sir Julien. Aunt Catherine Bley was very beautiful. She died as a bride after less than a year of marriage, and he never remarried. That’s why he adopted Anthony.”

  He moved to the second door leading into the bedroom where Henry Chantry had either killed himself or been murdered, keeping the candle flame from flickering out. Evy followed, with Arcilla clutching her arm, the carpet silencing their footsteps.

  “How did Master Henry come to have the Black Diamond?” Evy asked.

  “There’s a big scandal that says he stole it from Cape House—that’s Sir Julien’s estate.”

  “I’m afraid,” Arcilla whispered.

  “Then go back to your room.” Rogan sounded as though he was growing impatient.

  Arcilla looked at Evy. “Come with me.”

  She stood her ground. She wanted to see that bedroom.

  “I’m going back.” With that, Arcilla hurried out of the room, silently closing the door behind her.

  Rogan looked at Evy. “Follow me, and because you proved you were brave I will tell you what I’m looking for.”

  “I already know. Diamonds. Master Henry must have stolen more than the black one.”

  “There were three bags of whites, too, but that’s not what I’m searching for. No. It’s a map. Henry’s map. He left it to me in his will.”

  Evy’s heart thudded in her chest. A map? “The map is lost too?”

  “Or hidden along with the diamonds—that’s my thought, and I’m going to find it someday.”

  “A map to what? A gold mine?”

  “Yes, a very old map—hand-drawn by Uncle Henry, who was shown the gold deposit by a Zulu warrior, called an Impi. It shows a gold mine in Mash
onaland. But Sir Julien and the rest of the family insist that the notion of gold is a folly. They call it Henry’s Folly. But I’m betting on Uncle Henry. He was quite an explorer. He left it to me because he suspected I’d follow his interests. He was right.”

  She agreed with that.

  “When I locate the map, I’ll go to South Africa and start my own gold mining business. That’s why I’ve chosen a geological university instead of Oxford like Parnell.”

  Evy could scarcely catch her breath! Here she was, the niece of the governess, prowling the secret rooms of Master Henry Chantry with the son of the present squire. Somehow everything Rogan did was adventurous and exciting.

  No wonder Derwent liked to be around him.

  As they slipped into the bedroom, Evy felt as though Rookswood welcomed her into its mysteries. For a short time she had what she had secretly dreamed about: She was important to Rogan and Arcilla. Arcilla needed her. And the more time they spent together as companions, the more Arcilla would depend on her. Rogan seemed to encourage it, as though he thought Arcilla was safe when she was in Evy’s company. But Evy knew that while Rogan might accept her at times, as he was now doing by taking her on a tour of forbidden places, he never lost the demeanor that told her she was of a lower station, and that their relationship was a temporary experience. She sensed that as he went away to school and grew older, the relationship would end.

  The bedroom was also in shadows. The large bed was made up as though Master Henry were expected at any moment. The room was cold and musty smelling, and the floorboards creaked beneath the carpet as they walked slowly across it toward another desk, smaller than the one in the other room.

  “I’ve looked everywhere.” Rogan held the candle high, letting the light play on the walls. “He hid the map in a good place, all right. Otherwise someone would have found it before now. I’ve tried to think like Henry, but somehow it doesn’t work.”

  “He was much older than you are now. Maybe he knew things about Rookswood you do not.”

  “A secret hiding place for his map? Yes, I’ve thought of that. When I go to school in London I’m going to visit the historical libraries to see what I can learn about Rookswood architecture. I do know that Uncle Henry studied architecture as a young man before he gave it up and went to South Africa.”

  “I’m sure you will win in the end.”

  He looked at her, and there was an expression in his gaze that made her breath catch in her throat. Aware of an unsettling tension between them, she hurried to fill the silence. “Because you will not give up searching.”

  He gave a slow nod. “You are right about that. When I come home from school I will keep on searching until one day I find it. If it’s here. I think it is.”

  Her heart began to beat faster. She gazed at the painting on the wall showing tall Africans in leopard skins, with feathers, bones, and jewels in their headpieces. They carried fierce spears, and their eyes stared back with a regal defiance. Behind them was a lion with yellow eyes, and in the background, a great flat-topped mountain.

  Rogan noticed her glance. “That is Table Top Mountain, overlooking Capetown. Those short spears or knives the Zulu are carrying are called assegai.”

  She shuddered at the sight of the painting. The Africans looked fierce and vengeful. “The Zulus killed my parents at the mission station near Isandlwana.”

  “Yes. I was looking at your mother’s photograph in the rectory last Sunday.” He studied her, and Evy felt a quick heat fill her cheeks. She was recalling Derwent’s comment that she did not look much like her mother. Did Rogan think the same?

  The door to the front hall opened quietly, and there came the dreadful sound of footsteps too heavy to be Arcilla’s. Horror washed over Evy. Was she to be found out? Oh, what would Aunt Grace say?

  Rogan put a finger to his lips and gestured for her to hide. She dove under the desk.

  The moments crept by. Where was Rogan hiding?

  She saw a flickering light, but it could not be Rogan’s candle, for he had doused it when they’d heard the door open. Slow footsteps moved across the main room, and the stealthy sound of desk drawers opening and shutting followed. Ghosts did not open dresser drawers. Then whoever it was must have noticed the bedroom door ajar, for someone came to the threshold.

  Evy held her breath. A man stood in the doorway—the same man she had encountered the morning of her arrival in the upper corridor. He carried a lantern, holding it high, so that the light flickered on his face: squared-jawed, a craggy complexion browned from the sun, thick jaw-length hair the color of ebony, a black eye patch. His good eye was a burning pale blue. He wore a gold satin smoking jacket, and a large diamond ring on his hand flashed in the lantern light. She saw his head lift slightly, like a hunting dog catching the scent of prey.

  “All right. Who’s in here? Come out at once!”

  Evy’s shaking hand went over her mouth. She was just about to crawl out and surrender when Rogan came forward.

  “Hello, Uncle Julien. You smelled the smoke from my candle?”

  “So it’s you, Rogan. What brought you here?”

  “I leave in the morning for school in London. I like looking at Uncle Henry’s maps of South Africa, so I wanted a final look before I went away.”

  Sir Julien Bley was silent a moment too long, and then he appeared to accept the explanation. “Yes, Camilla tells me you are anxiously looking forward to coming to the Cape after schooling. Well, that pleases me, boy. Especially with Parnell showing so much interest in the diamond business. But I wish you would get this notion out of your head about searching for Henry’s Folly. You will do far better in the mines. Prove your worth to me, boy, and I’ll leave you a double share in my will.”

  “I will remember that, Uncle Julien.”

  He sounded so congenial, but Evy suspected he was pretending.

  “Well, Rogan, show me the maps that so intrigue you. I can tell at first glimpse if they’re up to date and accurate.”

  Sir Julien looked around the bedroom, then back down at Rogan. “Are they in here?” The tone of his question implied he knew they were not, which left the obvious question of what Rogan was doing in the bedroom if he were looking at maps. Evy tensed.

  But here again, Rogan proved himself quite foxy. “Your stepbrother Henry had a whole drawer full of maps, sir. He kept them here in this ottoman.” He went to a round footstool covered with tapestry and lifted the lid. He stooped down and took out a stack of maps, pencils, and several volumes of books.

  Sir Julien came to join him. “Well, well. So you did find maps. Brilliant, my boy. Ah yes, indeed. I definitely want you in Capetown in a few years.”

  “I like this one best.” Rogan spoke quietly, spreading it out for his uncle to see. “It’s of Zululand. Like that painting on the wall over the bed.”

  Sir Julien followed his glance to the painting that had given Evy shivers.

  “That was the Zulu king Cetshwayo,” Sir Julien said, unpleasantness in his voice. “His twenty thousand Impi attacked and slaughtered our British troops in the Battle of Isandlwana in 1879. A loss we’ll never forget.” His jaw tightened. “Reinforcements came in later, and the Zulus were soundly thrashed. We’ve no trouble with them now—not much, anyway. Let me see that map, my boy.”

  Rogan stood and handed it to him.

  “Ah.” Sir Julien nodded, apparently satisfied. “It is Zululand all right. So, you were telling me the truth.”

  Rogan’s eyes widened, making him the picture of innocence. “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “No reason. Well, good enough. Hand me those maps. I shall have a look through them myself tonight in my room. I, too, am leaving in the morning.”

  Whether reluctantly or not, Rogan gathered them up and turned them over to his father’s stepbrother. He closed the ottoman lid and went toward the door. “I have a riding lesson in fifteen minutes. Do you want me to lock up?”

  “Yes. Lock it up.”

  Evy watched them leave t
he bedroom and heard Sir Julien ask, “How did you get a key to this room?”

  Rogan answered something in a muffled voice. Sir Julien laughed as if Rogan amused him with his antics. The door closed behind them and a grating sound was heard in the lock. Evy’s hands were folded and tightly intertwined. She must not be discovered. It would mean trouble for Aunt Grace. Relief washed over her that Rogan had kept her presence a secret. But now …

  Her eyes widened. She was locked inside! When, and how, would she get out?

  Surely Rogan or even Arcilla would come back and open the door. But Arcilla did not have the key and would be afraid to venture here alone anyway. Evy hoped she would not say anything to Aunt Grace.

  Oh, Rogan, now what?

  He had to go riding, or the instructor would let it be known to Lady Camilla and Sir Julien that he had not shown up. Then Sir Julien would want to know why he had not kept the appointment. Evy crawled out from under the desk and went into the next room.

  She would need to wait until Rogan could come back up here and unlock the door. She hoped he would come before the afternoon shadows began to darken the rooms even more.

  She walked toward the door to the hall and tried the doorknob, but it was secure. She made her way to the window and looked out. Unless she had a rope she could never escape through the window. Nor could she imagine herself shimmying down a rope even if she had one. She grew dizzy just staring down into the empty courtyard. If someone had murdered Master Henry, that person would have entered through the hall door.

  No, there was nothing she could do but wait. With a heavy sigh, she sat down near the door, her eyes on the big clock. The pendulum was not swinging. Perhaps it had not been wound since Master Henry’s dreadful death.

  It seemed hours before she heard quiet footsteps outside in the hall. She stood and faced the door. A key turned in the lock, and the door opened slowly. Rogan stood there, looking grave. He studied her face.

  “I was afraid you would start screaming in panic.”