“And here we are back at the Grand Gallery.” George unlatched the cordon so they could enter the room. “These are the family pictures over the last…”
Pictures? Her heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t thought about pictures, only papers, folios and books. There must be photographs too of the more recent family members.
“And this is the third duke of…” George continued.
The room was silent, her footsteps muffled by the rich Persian carpet. Her eyes darted from picture to picture, searching for signs of any family resemblances. Which one of the portraits held her secrets? She calmed down. If she didn’t pace herself she would be useless. This was a marathon not a sprint. She needed to see Emily’s papers to give her an idea where to start. She didn’t need to recreate the wheel, only corroborate it.
“This is Leticia…” They stopped in front of a picture of a beautiful woman dressed for court.
She scrutinized the portrait, looking for something familiar. She saw none. The woman was beautiful with a peaceful angelic smile.
Something brushed against her mind, something just outside her grasp. A shiver ran across her back. Someone was watching her. She turned and looked. No one was there of course, only art work. A quick glance at the picture behind her startled her. The man in the portrait was handsome and smiling directly at her. His roguish smirk ignited a delightful warmth. It must be an optical illusion, she convinced herself. One of those paintings that, no matter where you stood, made you feel the subject was watching you. She brought her attention back to George who was finishing his discourse about Leticia. Curious, she stole a final look over her shoulder.
“…she was very adept with all things horticultural. Many thought her touch was ‘magical.’ The king was particularly taken with her ability and fancied that she could protect the land.” George checked his watch. “Goodness, look at the time. Our guests will be arriving any minute. We’ll have to continue our introductions at another time.” George took her arm and began to lead her out of the room.
When she stepped forward, she had the odd sensation of a light kiss on her neck. She hesitated and instinctively touched the spot. She reveled in the unexpected, but rather pleasant, sensation. She felt a warm flush of heat gradually spread through her to her face.
“Rebeka, are you all right?”
“Yes, I am fine.” She glanced at the painting and felt foolish.
How odd? Maybe there is a resident ghost. Shaking off the feeling, she laughed to herself and chalked up the incident to an overactive imagination.
George took her down the stairs. “Leticia is…”
“Leticia?”
“I’ve been going on. It is a lot to remember. Forgive me, Rebeka. I’ve grown up with all these people. They’re like family. Let’s sit down in the library and go over Emily’s bequest and complete our business.”
She didn’t miss his reference. Does he actually think of these people as contemporaries? Perhaps it was a solicitor’s affectation.
George opened the library door and brought her into a comfortable wood-paneled room roughly half the size of the Great Hall. The huge bi-pedestal desk sat on the wall to the right of the terrace doors, and the tall leather chair behind it begged to be occupied. Large overstuffed chairs flanked the fireplace. A large library table with upholstered chairs occupied the center of the room and a sideboard, with decanters for wine, across from the terrace doors. The walls were lined, floor to twenty-foot ceiling, with shelves filled to overflowing with books. She expected a stuffy dark room with massive furniture, a man’s room, but not so. She belonged in this room. Light flooded in from the terrace’s large double doors. She walked around the room, enjoying the comfort of the books and browsed the shelves. She opened the document cabinet filled with older texts and, using a white museum glove that she pulled out of her pouch, looked through the treasurers.
“May I?”
“Of course.” George smiled.
“I tried to imagine what I’d find here.”
“I should have realized you’d be eager to see them. My apologies.” He nodded in deference.
“Please, no apology is needed.” She continued perusing the documents. “I like to investigate old documents.”
“I noticed in the curriculum vitae you submitted to the Trust that you have a black belt in karate. That’s an interesting hobby for a renowned history professor.”
“Yes, I enjoy the mental focus and control of the movements.” She looked up from the document she was reading. “It’s like a graceful well-practiced dance.” She returned her focus to the document. “Do you have any hobbies?”
“Like you, I like investigating. I enjoy genealogy and searching out family connections. My hobby served me well in this case.”
“George, these documents are in pristine condition. I see several in Latin. This one appears to be Occitan. Ah, here is a folio on leech craft.” Her teaching persona took over. “It’s a medical compendium of sorts. It’s more like a disorganized collection of recipes. It primarily uses the local botany for remedies.”
There was a light rap on the door. “Come,” said George. Charles entered the room carrying the silver tea service with Helen right behind with scones and cream. “Ah, tea. Thank you, Charles.”
Charles placed the tea service on the library table, the scones beside it.
“Rebeka, I would like you to meet Helen. You’ve already met Charles.”
Reluctantly, Rebeka closed the drawer. She took off her glove and went to meet her staff. “Hello, Helen, Charles. It is so nice to meet you both.”
Charles gave an elegant bow. Helen bobbed a little curtsy. “Good day to you, Dr. Tyler. Welcome to Fayne Manor. We hope you enjoy your new home. We, Charles and me that is, have been looking forward to your coming. The house has been empty for some time and we much prefer when someone is in residence.”
“Thank you. I’m sure I will. Please call me Rebeka.”
“I’ve taken the liberty of unpacking your roadster, Miss Rebeka. I’ve put your things in the cottage. I hope you’ll find it comfortable,” said Charles.
“Thank you, Charles.”
Charles and Helen left as quickly and quietly as they arrived.
George held out a chair for her at the table. “I’ll pour the tea,” he said, taking his seat.
“Thanks, George. I put a bag in a cup and pour in hot water. I’m certain there’s more art to it than that.”
She took a scone and slathered on some clotted cream, closed her eyes and reveled in the sweet buttery taste.
“Ah, you’ve already found Helen’s secret weapon, scones. I may have to fight you for my share.”
She gave him a hearty laugh as she passed the plate to him.
“Of course, pouring tea is not difficult although the Victorian ladies would spin in their graves if they saw me pouring.”
“Not as much as they would if they watched me with my tea bag.” They both laughed.
“The papers from the National Trust have been left for your review,” he said, pointing to an impressive pile on the table, neatly organized with color tabs. “There’s a cover letter with their request.”
George took Emily’s will out of his briefcase. He went over each page in detail, explaining the implications and requirements and making certain Rebeka understood everything.
“The land and buildings are all under the care of the National Trust and are at your disposal. All the items in the public rooms and in the vault in London are part of the National Trust, but at your disposal. The cottage is a private house for your use as long as you live and will be handed down to your heirs should you have any. The cottage has a history all its own. It’s the original building on the estate and dates back to the 9th century. It’s been modernized so you should find it very comfortable.
“There are a few items Emily wanted gifted to you personally as well as the contents of the library. These items are to be given to your heirs. Should you not leave any heirs, all will bec
ome part of the National Trust. A trust fund has been established to run Fayne Manor and provide you with a modest income. All inheritance taxes have also been paid.”
Rebeka sat back in the chair, the magnitude of it washing over her as she carefully listened, her mind numb at the prospect of such an inheritance. It was so much more than she imagined. “George, are you sure there’s no mistake?”
“No, there’s no mistake. You are the heir. We’ve done extensive research. It’s all in Lady Emily’s books. You’ll see it tomorrow.”
He took a carefully wrapped package out of his briefcase and handed it to her. “Rebeka, Emily wanted you to have this.”
She solemnly began to open the package. She peeled the layers of wrapping away and found a beautiful brown velvet pouch. Opening it carefully, she saw two items inside. There was a moderate-sized amulet, studded with blue sapphires and dazzling diamonds on a platinum chain. Wrapped in a silk cloth was a thirty-inch belt of gold chain interspersed with two dozen uncut diamonds. The jewelry was tarnished and dented with age.
“Look, George! Aren’t they beautiful?” She put the amulet against her neck and went over to look at it in the large mirror over the sideboard.
“Here, let me help you.” George got up from the table, meeting her at the mirror. He took the necklace from Rebeka and helped her with the clasp. “There, all done.”
She turned around.
“Yes, it is beautiful, Rebeka. These two jewels were special to Emily. She made me promise I would find you and hand them to you myself. When she lived in the cottage, she kept them in a special place on the side of the chimney in the main room. Well, this is my last task for Emily. She was the last of her era. She will be sorely missed.”
Rebeka saw his eyes mist. All this time Emily was only a name, finding her family connection only a research project. The reality began to sink in. This was more than an academic exercise. It was all about real people, her people.
“George, you were close to Lady Emily weren’t you?” She gently put her hand on his arm and looked into his eyes. She thought she saw a haunted look, or maybe it was sadness.
“Yes. She was a close friend. My father brought me here often when they conducted business. I have many very happy memories in this house. And of Helen’s scones.” His tone lightened. “Now if you’ll sign these.”
She took the pen from George and finished executing the papers.
“Thank you. I’ll leave you with the family jewels and documents.” He smiled, his mood definitely improved. “You’ll forgive me but I must get back to London. I’ll ring you later this week after you’ve settled in. I’m not far away and would like to introduce you to your neighbors. The books from the vault, along with an inventory of the library, will arrive in the morning. I also had my staff check on the things you’ve sent. They’ll be here tomorrow as well. In the meantime, please feel free to contact me if you have any questions or if you need anything.”
“I’m looking forward to it, George. Thank you so much for all your help.” She walked him to the front door.
She said goodbye and went back to the library. She was familiar with the great libraries of the world. The excitement never diminished but as she looked from bookcase to bookcase and turned in a circle in this library, the realization that it was all hers was incredible. She gathered up the National Trust documents and sat in the large overstuffed chair by the hearth. She read the same paragraph three times before she put the paper down. She was too excited and couldn’t concentrate.
She tilted her head back against the chair’s plush upholstery, closed her eyes and took deep breaths to clear her mind. Little by little, she relaxed her muscles, all but her face. She couldn’t wipe off the wide grin. She didn’t want to.
She opened her eyes and scanned the shelves. Her short browse earlier was encouraging. The shelves appeared well organized. It’s mine. She was eager to see the inventory. Once again, her pulse accelerated. Jeez, why can’t I turn off the party going on in my head? She pushed the party to the background and concentrated. It was an acquired skill she cultivated, remaining in control.
She spent the next half hour reading the Trust papers, noting several references to Lady Emily’s notes. She would have to wait to read those tomorrow.
“Miss Rebeka.” Helen knocked on the door as she came in to take away the tea service. “I’ve taken the liberty of unpacking your things and stocking the cottage’s kitchen for you.”
“Thank you, Helen.” Slowly, she put everything away. She picked up the brown velvet pouch, gave the room one final look and went to the cottage across the drive from the Manor.
The two-room cottage was small and compact. The main room served as a cozy living room with a large fireplace. In the far corner was a modern galley kitchen and dining area. She walked down the hall and found the bedroom, bathroom and back door. A quick look outside revealed a lovely planted garden. Overall, the cottage was comfortable. It may be the original farm house on the outside but the inside was English country colored with thick cream and jolts of ochre, chintz patterns in the color of a summer garden, and furniture from mixed periods that all matched with time’s patina.
She started to put the brown pouch down but snapped it up in her hands. No, George said something about a hiding spot. With her notebook in hand, she leafed through its pages and found the information. After a few minutes, she set the notebook down on the dining table and began her search on the left side of the chimney. She ran her hand over the stones and searched but couldn’t find any indication of a door. Well done. I can’t see or feel a thing. In front of the fireplace she ran her hand over the rough stone under the mantel. Her fingers touched a metal lever. She pressed the lever toward the chimney as she leaned over the side and watched the decorative wood panel swing out. Inside, the small vault was really quite spacious and she safely tucked her new treasure away in Emily’s hiding spot. As she took her arm out, the edge of her sleeve caught on a piece of rusted metal. It looked like an old mechanism that triggered the door, evidence, she thought, that this hiding place was old. She wondered what other treasures had been secreted away here.
There was nothing left to do and she was too excited. Perhaps a visit to the meadow. No, it was too late for that, perhaps a walk around the grounds. She changed into walking shoes that were more appropriate for trudging around and stepped outside as a tour guide went by.
“And this is a small outbuilding added to the original Manor many years later. Unfortunately, the family line ended with the recent death of Lady Emily Parsons.”
“Excuse me but the cottage was the original farmhouse. The family lived here for many years before they built the grand one,” said Rebeka.
Collective ahs erupted from the crowd. The tour guide, a middle-aged spinster with a pinched expression, opened her mouth as if to say something but thought better of it.
“And a living heir was recently found.”
The tour guide folded her arms in front of her. The grimace set on her face left no doubt she was annoyed. She turned the group away from Rebeka, ignoring her.
Ah, my first real snub, I wonder what she would say if I told her she snubbed the Lady of the Manor. She smiled to herself.
“All right, everyone. This concludes our adventure at Fayne Manor. Please move on toward the car park where others will be joining us for our special Beltane evening. Our last adventure today is a brief stop at Avebury, another National Trust property.”
“A henge, what a great idea, I think I would like to join you.”
“Wonderful,” said the guide, without much enthusiasm. “There’s a kiosk by the car park where you can buy your ticket and review the travel schedule.”
With only a few minutes to spare, Rebeka ducked into the cottage to grab her pouch and walking staff then hurried to the car park. Her mind was settling, the edge of excitement gone. She found the kiosk and got in line to purchase her ticket.
“Hello, dear.” It was one of the women from the tou
r group. “I am so glad you decided to join us. Our tour guide is certainly not as well informed as you. What a beautiful necklace.”
Rebeka put her hand to her neck. She had forgotten about it.
“The clasp looks loose. Be careful now. You don’t want to lose such a lovely piece.”
“Thank you. I definitely don’t.”
“Last call for the bus to Avebury.”
She took off the amulet and zipped it in her skirt pocket. There wasn’t enough time to go back to the cottage. She would put it away later. “One ticket to Avebury, please.”
The ride to the henge was pleasant. She opted to sit in the back by herself. Relaxed, she enjoyed the countryside as it whizzed by. Her research project required her to go to the henge. A preliminary visit to get familiar with the site sounded like a great idea.
“Good afternoon, I am Agnes and our driver for this portion of our adventure is Miles. We’re on our way to Avebury, one of the finest megalith sites in Europe with large standing stones and several stone circles. The Avebury site is 5,000 years old, older than the more famous Stonehenge site. Like other henges, it’s been a long held belief that the stones represent male and female characteristics. A male scientist must have done this designation, as male stones are long and thin while the female stones are short and square.” There was a flurry of muffled laughter. Agnes smiled.
“The two surviving primary stones at Avebury are The Cove, in the center of the henge. They are perfect examples of this theory. The village of Avebury is incorporated into the henge. The village buildings actually weave in and out of the stones on the circle’s midline. As you will see, it’s still a magical place, a very magical place. Today is May 1st, Beltane. In an earlier time, we’d be celebrating the beginning of the summer season and participating in paying homage to the sun in the sun circle. We may be lucky enough to see the last of the May Day celebrations.” The coach finally pulled into the Avebury car park.
Knight of Runes Page 4