The Amber Pendant

by Imogen White

  “Not at all. It is we who are thankful,” Miss Templeforth interrupted, shooing the comment away with her hand. “Now, the visitors you may have seen earlier were all those who responded to my advertisement in yesterday’s Evening Argus. It requested girls from my maternal line to present themselves to me. My time on this earthly plane is drawing to its end…” Miss Templeforth paused to take another sip of her fortifying drink, leaving the statement about her death dangling between them.

  “The advert unearthed every charlatan and gold-digger from Piddinghoe to Portslade.” The old woman shook her head with a sigh and stared into the fire. “This was to be expected. They got a whiff of the inheritance, you see – just as we imagined. Even those with genuine links to the family have proved to be weak-spirited, entirely unworthy, or worse. But it was a carefully planned diversion, Rose. To stake out the enemy. To put them off the scent.”

  Rose glanced at Miss Lee, who was smiling. It was the same strange smile she had given when she’d chosen Rose from all the other girls lined up at the workhouse to come and work here in the big house. The one she’d had when she’d said, “I’ll take this one, the one with the unusual eyes.”

  “Rose, we wanted to speak to you about values,” continued Miss Templeforth, waving her long knotted fingers as she spoke. “What do you value?” Her face hardened in the firelight as she examined Rose through a pair of circular spectacles suspended on a long stick.

  “W-well, Ma’am,” Rose stammered, noticing how the glasses made the old lady’s eyes look freakishly large. Think, Rose Muddle, say what they want to hear, don’t mess this up. “I don’t own much to value. That ain’t to say I don’t value much what I own, it is to say I don’t own much. I value the people what are kind to me – oh, and I value this job of course.” Her words spurted out like water escaping a cracked pipe. She flashed an apologetic smile just as an image of Miss Gritt tapping her leather rod against her palm, welcoming Rose back to the workhouse, formed like a spectre in her mind. “P-please don’t send me back to the workhouse.” Rose gulped.

  “We were never going to send you back there. Whatever gave you that impression?” Miss Templeforth said sitting forward in her big chair. “Goodness me, we’ve only just found you!”

  Rose’s mouth opened and shut, but all her words had run away. Instead, her mind performed somersaults, trying to work out what the giddy aunt was going on here. Maybe Nanna Potts is right, the Mistress really is barking!

  “Now, I would like to show you something of personal value to me,” Miss Templeforth said slowly, and Rose blinked. The old woman unfastened the chain from around her neck and held out the large orange pendant for Rose to see. It had a black disc inlaid in its centre. Rose felt a rush of cold run through her and the lights in the room flickered.

  And as she looked at the pendant, she couldn’t explain how, but something deep inside told her that this moment was about to change her world for ever.

  The pendant swung in the space between Rose and Miss Templeforth, its gold rim glinting in the firelight. The orange disc seemed to be illuminated from within, like a bit of glass from a church window, Rose thought. In a trick of the light, the black dot in the middle looked to be throbbing. “Whatever is it made from?” Rose murmured.

  “Amber,” Miss Lee answered. “Ancient tree sap, hardened over millions of years. Some pieces have prehistoric insects or plant matter trapped inside them. Inclusions they are called. Some people believe amber can preserve stranger things. Dark things.”

  Rose’s mouth ran completely dry. Dark things?

  Miss Lee nodded, encouraging Rose to take the pendant. Miss Templeforth held out the chain, her eyes peering, owl-like, from behind the lenses clasped in her other hand.

  As Rose’s fingers touched the pendant, the fire in the grate roared into mighty flames, filling the hearth, but she did not notice, for she was somewhere else entirely.

  Loud noises crashed around in her mind, voices blurred, falling in and out of earshot. Blackness. She strained to see. A small room fell into focus. The heavy smell of peppermint clawed at the back of her throat. Her body rattled up and down.

  No, she thought, it ain’t a room, it’s a carriage, with crimson curtains drawn across all the windows.

  A hand reached up in front of Rose. Her hand? No, not her hand at all. Skeletal and shrivelled, with thick veins stretched across crooked knuckles.

  I’m in someone else’s body. Seeing through someone else’s eyes, Rose realized. Fear whispered through her bones.

  The aged hand, whoever it belonged to, reached forward and twitched the curtains, exposing a tattoo on the wrist. A blazing blackened sun with a face in its centre – the same design Rose had seen on the back of the carriage earlier. The inky face stretched like rubber across raised tendons.

  “What news do we have of our foreign visitor?” rasped the owner of the hand. It was the voice of an elderly man. A streak of lamplight burst through the parted curtains as the carriage halted. The man blinked and Rose felt herself blink with him. He lifted a pendant into the dusty channel of light. A pendant? Like the one she’d been given in the library, encircled by the same band of gold, but with the colours in reverse; the amber of this pendant was much darker, but for a small circle of luminous orange right in the centre.

  “I have received confirmation he’s travelling from the East, via London, and will be arriving tomorrow, Sir,” a gruff voice replied from the shadows.

  “Indeed,” the old man hissed. She could feel his hunger in her, as if they were one. The horrid craving swelled as he examined his pendant. The intruding light transformed the dark amber into a glowing, luminous red, which seemed to bubble deep inside. Rose’s heart beat faster as distorted faces started churning within the pendant, otherworldly creatures with mouths that stretched one into another. She stifled a lurching nausea, as the old man’s head shifted from side to side, studying the morphing beings. He chuckled.

  “And the book travels with him?” the man spat.

  “It does, Sir,” replied his hidden companion. “And the Amber Cup awaits him at the museum.”

  Two pendants, a cup of amber and a book? Rose’s thoughts hurried, trying to make sense of it all, but she couldn’t.

  “She’s controlling it!” Miss Templeforth called from far away, like a whisper.

  “Whose is that voice?” the man shouted. Snatching the pendant into the ball of his fist, he stiffened.

  “Sir?” his companion said.

  “Damnation! Someone’s in my mind. How is this possible?” The man moaned, grabbing at his head. “I order them gone!”

  At his words, a grey smog instantly blanketed Rose’s view. Thin, black shapes appeared, shooting in and out of focus, obscured by the mist spinning around her. Voices chattered in a strange tongue. A desperate surge of fear sprang up inside Rose as the mass swarmed closer. She felt a cold breath on her neck as something sniffed her, and out of the corner of her eye, a black shape twice her size shifted off. A helter-skelter of panic twisted in her chest. The sound of gnashing teeth encircled her.

  “Get away!” Rose shrieked, gripping her head.

  On her command, the hidden things broke into a high-pitched squeal. Rose covered her ears – the sound was like a hundred cats being drowned all at once. The screams faded inside the fog, shrinking away to silence.

  “ROSE?” Miss Lee shouted close by. Cold fingers touched her arm. “Come back to us. NOW!”

  With a jolt, Rose found herself back in the library. The bookcases swayed and then stilled. The whispering voices had gone, but her heart still raced. “What just happened?” she panted, looking at the two women.

  “What did you see?” Miss Lee asked, clutching Rose’s arm.

  Speechless, Rose studied the pendant wedged in her palm. Glowing like a living thing, it throbbed in time with her heartbeat. A part of her. A deep calm took hold, a sense of total belonging that made her feel like everything was somehow going to be all right. Rose had never really
belonged anywhere or to anything before and despite everything she had just witnessed, this felt…lovely. Her fear evaporated, the memories of the shadowy creatures and all that had just happened faded to nothing. A new brightness shone inside her, right in the very heart of her. It grew bigger and bigger until every cell of her body hummed with it. She sighed and leaned back, wanting the moment to last for ever.

  “Look at the way the amber is glowing,” Miss Templeforth said. “It’s her, we can be certain. Thank goodness. But I need the pendant back…PLEASE!” Miss Templeforth’s eyes looked desperate.

  Rose hesitated, not wanting to part with it.

  “My dear Rose,” Miss Lee spoke in a hushed voice. “We must pass back the pendant to its rightful owner. She needs it.”

  Reaching over, Miss Templeforth loosened Rose’s fingers and prised the pendant out of her hand.

  “Thank you…” the old lady said. “It strengthens me.”

  Without it, Rose at once felt empty. Whatever it was, she yearned to hold it again. It was as if, by giving away the pendant, a piece of her had been removed.

  Rose watched as the old lady fastened the pendant around her neck. The nice feelings had been washed away, replaced by a bubbling anxiety in her chest. What kind of witchcraft is this?

  “Can you tell us what just happened, Rose?” Miss Lee asked again.

  Her heart pounded as both women stared at her, their eyes full of wonder. Rose placed her hand to her throat and tried to concentrate. “I saw stuff what I don’t understand. When I held that,” she pointed to the pendant, “I were inside someone’s head. An old man…it were horrible – he were horrible. We were in a carriage. He had another pendant, like yours but different. It had…faces inside of it. The two of them talked about a cup in a museum and about a book. I dunno.”

  “You saw the other pendant!” cried Miss Lee. “What did the man look like?”

  “I couldn’t see him, I saw things like what he saw. I were in his mind. I felt…his hunger…it were awful. And he had a tattoo on his wrist of a black sun with a face in its middle and—” She stroked her apron.

  “The black sun!” Miss Lee interrupted, and turned in her chair to face Miss Templeforth. The old woman appraised Rose like a butterfly under a magnifying glass.

  Rose’s mind flashed from the tattoo to the image of the black sun she had seen on the carriage collecting the girl with ringlets earlier. She opened her mouth to speak but Miss Templeforth cut in.

  “In-credible…how could you do that?” Her eyes narrowed.

  “I dunno, Ma’am,” Rose answered truthfully, her mind still reeling from everything she had seen.

  “I’ve never been able to see into the mind of the other pendant holder. Extraordinary.” Miss Templeforth looked at Miss Lee and then back to Rose. “Have you ever seen the Amber Cup at the museum in Brighton?” The old woman craned forward, her watery eyes searching Rose’s face. The dusty library hushed to just the crackle of the fire.

  “No,” Rose shot a look between the two women, “I ain’t never been to any museum, Ma’am.” Rose shook her head. Me, rubbing shoulders with all them fancy folk what go there? Chance would be a fine thing.

  “What else did you see when you held the pendant, Rose?” Miss Lee urged. “You seemed distressed.”

  “A nasty fog came, I couldn’t see and there were black things in it. Hateful creatures…and I screamed at them to go and they…did.” Rose squeezed her eyes shut. Did they go just because I told them to? She frowned, trying to recall the rest. “That was it. You called me back.” She stared without blinking at the pendant. “Please, tell me what it is.”

  The two ladies remained silent for a moment. With a glance at Miss Templeforth, Miss Lee leaned towards Rose.

  “Mrs Templeforth’s pendant is very old and magical. It requires a guardian at all times, and when the time is right, it chooses a new guardian. That time is now, Rose, and it has chosen you.”

  A magical pendant? A guardian? Me? Rose’s heart beat faster. Despite the horrible things it had shown her, the pendant had felt a part of her. She couldn’t explain how, but since she’d held it, Rose somehow felt different. Her grey eyes shone.

  “But why would that pendant pick me?” Rose muttered, not meaning to say it aloud.

  Standing, Miss Lee threw another log on the fire, and the flames licked around it. The portrait of the lady with the fan watched from the mantelpiece as Rose shuffled on her stool next to the old woman.

  “Your connection to Miss Templeforth’s pendant is strong. Actually, from what we’ve just seen, it’s stronger than any other before you. Do you know why this might be?” Miss Lee asked.

  Rose shook her head repeatedly. “I haven’t a clue!”

  “Well,” Miss Lee said, with a smile. “I believe it is your identity that makes it so.”

  My identity? Rose stilled. She’d never really had one of them. In the workhouse she’d been a nobody; most of the time she’d been called by a number. People have names, paupers have numbers – Miss Gritt’s words rang through her.

  “We have searched for so long –” Miss Templeforth’s voice drew her back – “and last week, we found you. That was when Enna brought you here as a scullery maid so we could keep you close and introduce you into the household without arousing suspicion.”

  “Yes,” Miss Lee paced in front of the fire and the floorboards creaked, “and at the same time, we set about drawing everyone’s attention to our search for an heir. We made sure the pendant was mentioned in the paper, to underline the fact we were without a new guardian. We have successfully diverted them from you. For now.”

  “Them? From me?” Rose mouthed, trying desperately to take it all in.

  “You only became visible to us after the turning of your twelfth birthday. It has always been so,” Miss Lee explained, taking her seat again. “When I found you, Rose, I knew you were the one. There is a likeness about you.” She grinned.

  It was true that she’d been taken from the workhouse the day after she’d turned twelve. Rose remembered the curious smile Miss Lee had given when she first saw Rose, lined up with all the other workhouse girls. How it had made her tingle. And how Miss Gritt had seemed especially wary of Miss Lee.

  “It’s your eyes,” Miss Templeforth purred, appraising Rose once more through her spectacles. “Such an unusual grey. They are like my father’s.”

  My eyes? Her father? I ain’t related to her!

  “What do you know of your parents?” Miss Templeforth asked.

  Rose’s shoulders dropped and she looked down. “My ma died” – her voice shrank to a whisper; she fiddled with her fingers – “when I was born.” She looked up. “I’m workhouse born and bred.” The two women exchanged a glance. Rose carried on, “I was told my pa was a seaman who sailed to the South Indian Ocean and never came back. That’s what the workhouse governess told me, Ma’am.” See? A nobody. I ain’t nothing to do with any of this, she thought.

  “Dear Rose.” Miss Lee kneeled beside her, and a slight smell of lavender hung in the air. “You look so confused. I will do my best to explain things to you.” She cleared her throat. “Now, I have known Miss Templeforth since she was a child.”

  The skin on Rose’s arms goose-pimpled. Did I hear that right? Known her since she was a child? Rose studied Miss Lee’s fresh face, covered in a splattering of freckles. She looked young enough to be the mistress’s daughter.

  “The pendant has been closely following the Templeforth bloodline for many generations,” Miss Lee explained. “She was chosen by the pendant some fifty years ago – chosen as you have been tonight – to undertake the role of guardian.”

  Miss Templeforth nodded, and sank back into her gigantic chair with a faraway look in her eyes.

  “But what d’you mean, guardian?” Rose sat forward. “What’s one of them?”

  “To explain this, Rose, I must start with some history,” said Miss Lee, gripping hold of her hand. Rose stared into her sparkling blue eyes.
“There is an Amber Cup,” she began, “displayed at the museum in Brighton. It contains something…something—” She struggled to find the right word.

  “EVIL!” Miss Templeforth cut in. Rose jumped.

  “Yes,” Miss Lee carried on. “Something terrible – something of great evil is trapped inside the amber of the cup.”

  Miss Templeforth took over. “And there are two pendants, which, if used together, can release this evil from the cup. One of them is mine.” The old lady held her jewel aloft. “And the other belongs to the hidden person you miraculously saw tonight.”

  The old man in the carriage with the other pendant and the tattoo. Rose shivered, concentrating with all her might.

  Miss Lee spoke again. “The pendants have been kept apart for thousands of years. And the cup remained safely buried. But fifty years ago, in 1856, it was exhumed – dug up from the ground.”

  “And put in the museum?”

  “That’s right, Rose…and now the other guardian is here somewhere in Hove with his pendant. He seeks Miss Templeforth’s – to use it together with his own to release the evil trapped inside the cup. He wants to use this evil to make himself powerful. These three objects, the cup and the two pendants, you see, contain mysterious and ancient magic of incredible strength.”

  “How d’you know Miss Templeforth’s pendant is in danger now, after all this time?” Rose asked.

  “They have been sending shadow creatures… Creeplings, they’re called, to torment her in dark visitations.” Miss Lee moved behind Miss Templeforth and rested a hand on the old lady’s shoulder. “They sense she is weakening.”

  Miss Templeforth nodded. Reaching up, she gently squeezed Miss Lee’s hand.

  Dark visitations? Creeplings? The words conjured images of the horrid black shapes she had seen snaking around her in the fog when she’d been inside that man’s head. A sense of unease grew within her. Rose pointed at Miss Templeforth’s pendant. “Hang on. Is that pendant e-evil too? Like what the cup is?” she asked, her pulse quickening. “It showed me bad things. But…it never felt evil when I held it. It felt…right. And—” Rose shook her head, trying to untangle the words she wanted to say.