My Brother's Crown

by Mindy Starns Clark

  “Okay, that makes sense,” he said. “Sort of. So do you have such a microscope at your disposal?”

  I sighed. “Not here, but I’m going to check around and see if I can borrow one.”

  We reached my grandfather’s office, and I locked the pamphlet inside the safe. Once that was done, there was no reason for Blake to stick around, though a part of me was reluctant to see him go. I walked him to the door, where he paused and gave me a look of concern.

  “You know you only have access to the pamphlet for another two days, right?”

  I smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I know. But two days are better than none, right?”

  Once he was gone, I returned to the study to make a few calls to people I knew personally at Talbot headquarters. In each case I got only voice mail, no actual humans, and I realized their workday must be over. Not wanting to leave my request in a message, I decided to try again in the morning.

  Dinner wasn’t for a while yet, so I used the time until then to unload the car and get unpacked. I didn’t have all that much stuff, so it only took a single trip. Rolling my bag behind me, I moved around the garage, down the walkway beside the pool, and into the main door of the moderate-sized building.

  Thanks to Nana’s cleaning staff, the place was spotless, the scents of pine and lemon wafting my way as soon as I went through the door. Except for the fact that it faced toward the Dark Woods, I loved the guesthouse. It had a small kitchen, living room, bathroom, and three bedrooms, one of which was big enough to hold four beds. Known as the “Cousins’ Room,” that’s where my three female first cousins—Danielle, Madeline, and Nicole—and I had stayed every year since we were little. Now that we were all in our twenties, it seemed kind of silly to keep sharing, but we wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Once I was unpacked, I thought about taking a nap but was so tired I feared I might sleep right through dinner. I ended up going for a nice long swim instead, which was the right call. By the time Nana and I finally sat down to eat, I felt totally refreshed, not to mention hungry. And the meal did not disappoint.

  I’d always liked eating in the solarium, where the table was more appropriate for two instead of thirty. The room’s three walls of windows also afforded the best view of the sunset, which started just as we’d finished the main course and were served coffee and a dessert of pears poached in honey and cinnamon. The scene our view afforded was truly lovely, the sky slowly fading from blue to orange to purple.

  Nana and I lingered there until the show was over and it was completely dark. Then we moved to the living room, where I helped her work out the little five-minute speech she would be giving near the end of Saturday’s ceremony. It took longer than expected, but by the time we were finished, we were both pleased with it.

  She seemed so tired I insisted she go on to bed, saying I was just going to copy the speech over onto some note cards and then I’d be turning in too. We said our goodnights and she headed upstairs. Working in the quiet of the living room, I was almost finished when I got a text. To my surprise, I saw that it was from Blake.

  You still up?

  I smiled, typing a simple Yes in response.

  Good. Got something for you. Okay if I swing by now and drop it off?

  I hesitated, trying to imagine what this was about.

  Sure. Text when you get here and I’ll come outside.

  Will do.

  Five minutes later, I heard a soft knock at the door. Peering through the keyhole I saw that it was Blake.

  “I told you to text when you got here,” I scolded with a smile as I swung open the door. “My grandmother’s asleep.”

  “Sorry. This thing’s heavy, and I knew I’d need to carry it in anyway.”

  I realized he was holding a case about the size of a large microwave oven. Stepping aside, I invited him in and watched as he lugged it toward my grandfather’s study.

  “Probably best to put it in here,” he said.

  Only then did it dawn on me what he’d brought. My heart began to pound.

  “That’s not a microscope by any chance, is it?” I whispered, stepping into the office behind him and closing the door.

  “A Newson 40XG with Phase Contrast and DIC. Your wish is my command.”

  I didn’t ask where he had managed to come up with this thing out of the blue in such a short time. I was too busy removing it from its case, setting it up, adjusting the dials, and getting ready to take a 3D, microscopic-level look at the markings on the Persecution Pamphlet.

  When the machine was all set, I slipped on the gloves, retrieved the pamphlet, and turned to the first marking. I smoothed the pages out carefully and then slid them into place under the lens. Fortunately, the flat area that held the slide, known as the stage, was wide enough to support the whole document safely.

  Lowering myself to peer into the scope, I reached for the dials and worked in silence. It didn’t take long to focus on the mark, and my heart began pounding in my chest as I peered down at what I saw.

  Apparently, my theory was only partially correct. Yes, this first marking was part of something larger, something obviously intentional. But it had nothing to do with a note jotted beside the text, as I’d expected. It was instead the remnant of a circle around it—or, more specifically, around one letter. Though the rest of the circle’s ink had faded away and only a fraction of it still showed to the naked eye, the entire indentation of the circle was still there, a clear sign of where quill or graphite had once been pressed down onto paper and dragged in a loop around one of the printed letters on the page.

  I sat back and looked at Blake, my mind racing. Something about that sounded so familiar. A circle drawn around a letter…

  “What is it?” he asked, trying to read my expression.

  “Give me a minute,” I replied. Thinking hard, I pulled out the pamphlet, turned to the next marking, and slid it back in again. Spent a few minutes scanning and focusing.

  Same thing. This marking was also part of a circle that had been drawn in around a letter.

  A circle around a letter…

  I was still staring down at it when it came to me, and it was all I could do not to shout. Sitting up straight, I flashed Blake an exhilarated grin.

  “What is it?” he repeated. “Can I see?”

  “Help yourself,” I said, rising and moving toward the bookshelves. “I have to find something.”

  As fast as I could, I ran my eyes along Granddad’s collection, knowing his copy had to be here somewhere. It didn’t take long to find it, thanks to his handy organizational system. It was in the section labeled “Ancestry,” under J for Journal of Catherine Gillet, even though there was no spine to feature the title. It wasn’t a book at all, in fact, but rather a stack of loose papers held together along one side with a pair of binder clips.

  “Got it.” I pulled the packet of pages from the shelf and started back toward the desk. “Can you slide that out of the way for minute?”

  Blake was still peering into the microscope, but he quickly stood and did as I asked, carefully pushing the device over to one side of the desk.

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m not sure what has you so excited,” he said as he returned to his seat, “but it looks to me as if the marking is part of a circle around a letter. Is that significant?”

  “More than you can imagine.” I placed the packet of pages on the desk and settled into my chair. After removing the clips, I flipped through the stack and separated it into its two components—one written by hand, all in French, and the other printed out from a computer, in English.

  I slid the stack of handwritten pages over to Blake as I explained. “That’s a copy of a journal that was written by one of my ancestors back in the sixteen hundreds, a woman named Catherine Gillet. Dr. Underwood secured a copy of it four years ago when he was doing research for the authentication. The original is in a museum in Europe.”

  “Cool.” Blake peeked at the pages as I continued.

  “The
journal entries start when she’s a little girl and end when she’s eighteen. They’re sporadic—some years have only one or two entries, while the last few months have a whole bunch—but either way they make for a fascinating read.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “Anyway, the Persecution Pamphlet was created in the family print shop, and Catherine mentions it in the journal. Which made it a great supporting document for the authentication.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “Of course, she wrote by hand in seventeenth-century French, so Dr. Underwood had to have it translated first.” Holding up the stack of pages, I added, “That’s what this is. The translation of that.”

  “Okay,” Blake said, setting down his own stack and looking to mine. “So where it talks about the pamphlet, does it say something about a circle written around a letter?”

  “No such luck. But, well, you’ll see…” My voice trailed off as I skimmed the first few journal entries. It didn’t take long to find the one I was looking for.

  “ ‘Twelve October, 1676,’ ” I read aloud, and then I paused to do the math. “Depending on what month she was born, Catherine would’ve been about nine here. Oh, and she refers to a guy named Jules. That’s her brother, who was a lot older.” I held up the page. “Anyway, here goes. ‘Jules came up with a new exercise today, one that’s supposed to help with my reading and counting, only it’s more like a game. It involves a secret code that he invented just for me. The way it works is that he hides a message within some discarded piece of printed matter from the shop, and then he gives it to me and I have to follow his counting rules to figure out what the message says. I found it quite fun and hope he does it again soon.’ ”

  “Help with reading and counting skills?” Blake asked as I paused in my reading to find the next relevant entry. “That seems unusual for the era, considering she was a girl.”

  I shook my head, explaining that Huguenots had been big on education back then, even for women. Continuing my search, I found what I wanted, a paragraph written when she was about ten.

  “This one is from the following year. ‘Got in trouble for running in church yesterday with some of my friends. We were playing around before the service and forgot ourselves—until we were reprimanded and forced to sit separately for the entire thing. That was bad enough, but today I got a secret message from Jules, and as it turned out, all he did was reiterate the scolding. So much work searching for circled letters and counting them off—”

  “Wait, what?”

  I grinned at Blake, whose eyes were wide. I repeated that last part slowly. “‘So much work searching for circled letters and counting them off, only to reveal in the end these words: Young ladies walk, never run, especially at church. That wasn’t fair of him and no fun at all. I won’t complain though, lest he stop playing the game. Except for this particular message, I still enjoy it very much, and I do believe it continues to provide good practice for my counting, handwriting, reading, and spelling.’ ”

  “Renee, this is incredible. I think you’re really onto something here.”

  Still smiling, I skimmed a few pages until I found the next entry, from when Catherine was twelve. “This is about two years later. ‘To my surprise, Jules gave me a coded message today, something he hasn’t done in quite a while. It was hidden inside a booklet about cookery that was recently printed at the shop, and at first I thought he’d simply given me a copy of it for myself, as I have been working a lot lately on my household skills. But then I flipped through and spotted the telltale circled letters. Though I no longer need the decoding game as practice for my studies, I enjoyed it all the same. His message was an important one: Our trip to the Plateau will be taxing on the animals. Do not forget that your horse is your responsibility. Keep an eye on her gait, which may alter if she is injured, and check her periodically for rubs, sores, swollen areas, and debris in her hooves. The sooner observed, the sooner attended. It was a good reminder and managed to increase my excitement tenfold. We are leaving in less than a week, and I simply cannot wait.’ ”

  When I finished reading, I set down the pages and looked at him. “If I recall correctly, that’s the last mention of the code in the journal. But I think it’s enough.” Leaning forward, I worked through my theory, counting off each point on my fingers. “One, Jules gave Catherine secret messages by circling letters inside materials printed at his shop. Two, the Persecution Pamphlet has at least two circled letters inside it. Three, it was printed at his shop. Voilà. It seems obvious to me that Catherine’s brother Jules must have given her a coded message in the Persecution Pamphlet via circled letters. Given the evidence, I think that’s a fair and logical conclusion.”

  “Totally feasible,” Blake agreed, nodding emphatically.

  Setting the translation aside, I pulled over the microscope and again peered into the lens. If I was right, there would be other circles around other letters in the same pages, circles that had disappeared from normal view but would be visible under this microscope.

  Blake grew quiet as I slowly shifted the pamphlet and searched for the same sort of indentations. Given the level of magnification, the process was slow and tedious, but if I found what I was looking for, it would be more than worth the trouble.

  “One question,” he said finally, breaking the silence. “I thought the Persecution Pamphlet was created in 1685.”

  “It was.”

  “But Catherine would’ve been eighteen by then. If the code was something from when she was a child, why would it show up in a pamphlet that didn’t even exist until she was an adult?”

  My eyes still on the lens, I thought about that for a moment. “Maybe the code was something they continued to share once in a while. As she said in that last entry, he did it even when she no longer needed it as practice for her studies. I’m thinking he probably gave her some message when she was grown, using the code from when they were younger.”

  Blake grunted in agreement. “Mind if I take a look at the translation?”

  “Be my guest.”

  He picked it up and began slowly flipping through as I continued to scan for circles, micrometer by micrometer.

  “I’m curious,” he said. “I know you’re really smart and all, but how could you possibly have remembered a few obscure references from a journal you read four years ago?”

  I smiled at the compliment. “I’ve read it several times since then. I have my own copy at home. I love that journal. Catherine was my eleven-greats grandmother, you know. But even if she wasn’t, I’d still find her story fascinating. Totally inspiring. You’re welcome to borrow it. You should give it a read yourself.”

  I glanced his way, but his eyes were on the pages in front of him.

  “Does she say anything in here about how the Huguenots were persecuted for their faith?”

  “Yes, lots.” I returned my attention to the lens. “The entries from the spring of 1685, when persecution was on the rise, are especially compelling. She was only eighteen then, but within the span of several months, it’s like she went from an innocent and somewhat pampered girl of means to a wise and proactive woman. She was very brave. Far braver than I would have been in her shoes.”

  Blake began reading one of the passages aloud, but he lost me after the first few words. That’s because at the other end of the lens I’d finally come across what I’d been looking for: another indentation surrounding one of the letters.

  I gasped.

  “What?”

  “Another circle,” I whispered. “That helps confirm it.” I sat back, shaking my head in wonder. “Do you realize if we could find all the circled letters in this pamphlet, we could probably figure out Jules’s code and read the secret message for ourselves?”

  I met Blake’s eyes and we shared a grin.

  “Of course,” I added, “finding all the circles wouldn’t exactly be easy. We’re talking about going through eight pages under the lens, one micrometer at a time. That’s crazy. Super tedious and time-co
nsuming.”

  “So worth it though, in the end.”

  I thought for a moment, going through the next few days in my mind. With so much already on my plate, I wouldn’t have a lot of time, but I might be able to work on it in the evenings after everyone was in bed.

  “When does the microscope have to go back?”

  Blake checked his watch. “In about half an hour.”

  My eyes widened. “Seriously?”

  He nodded. “I borrowed it from a buddy who works over at VCU Medical Center, but I have to return it before the end of his shift.”

  “Aw, man. I was assuming we had it for a few days. Can you borrow it again tomorrow night?”

  “Highly doubt it. I had to call in a lot of favors just to get it this time.”

  “Okay. Let me think.”

  Looking at the sophisticated piece of machinery, I considered the situation and decided it was just as well. With so much else going on around here, there wouldn’t have been enough time to get this done anyway.

  “That’s okay,” I said. “I think I’ll have to delegate. I’ll call Dr. Underwood in the morning and tell him what we found. He should be able to help me figure it out from there.”

  Rising from my chair, I carefully removed the pamphlet from the stage and returned it to the safe. Blake attended to the microscope.

  As he loaded it back into its carrying case, I thanked him profusely for what he’d done.

  “Are you kidding me? This was fun,” he said, pausing to meet my gaze.

  “It was fun, wasn’t it?” I replied, struck anew by the sparkle of his green-gold eyes. “And just think. If I hadn’t been so stubborn about the markings, and you weren’t so resourceful and helpful, those circles—that secret message, whatever it turns out to be—would’ve gone undiscovered forever.”