Something had to be done, lest they be saddled with the harpy for the rest of the day, nay—the remainder of the party! Arabella Poffington would spend one hour in their workroom and consider it open ground from then on.
“Oh dear.” Paige stifled a pang of guilt. Lord, forgive me for believing the worst of this woman. Maybe I can help. “No wonder you’re so pale. Do you know, the cook kindly made my father a headache draught a few nights ago, and I’m sure she’d be glad to do the same for you.”
“How sweet.” The fire in Arabella’s eyes proved Paige’s hunch that the headache was only a pretext to win some attention.
“You do look a bit peaked, Miss Poffington,” the earl joined in, the very picture of concern. “I know fair complexions are all the rage, but it won’t do for any of my guests to become ill. Why don’t you make your way back to the comfort of your room?”
“All alone?” The tremulous note positively rang with vulnerability and demanded a knight in shining armor.
“It wouldn’t be proper for me to escort you to your chambers. You really must be ill to so forget, Miss Poffington. I’m certain Miss Turner would assist you if you wish.”
“Oh, such a fuss is hardly necessary,” Arabella gushed, and Paige felt a spurt of gratitude toward her for the first time. “Your concern is so kind, milord.”
“Of course, I’ll immediately send word to the kitchen, ordering the cook to make all due haste with that healing draught. I trust you’ll be much recovered by supper.”
Paige watched the solicitous manner in which he herded the intruder out of the library with a mix of admiration and, at the sight of Arabella leaning heavily on his supporting arm, a hint of jealousy. She ignored it. She’d never willingly play the role of cosseted-beauty-turned-manipulative-harridan. Why the upper classes rewarded physical charm over kindness, compassion, or intelligence was beyond her understanding. For now, while the earl rid them of the problem, she would practice patience rather than give in to her curiosity and explore the contents of that promising crate in the corner.
She grinned at the earl as he returned to the library.
“I don’t suppose,” he drawled lazily as he leaned against the doorsill, “that draught Cook is making for Arabella is a tasty beverage?”
“Sadly, though its restorative powers are undeniable, Papa did lament its acrid flavor.”
“Well, imagine my surprise,” the countess spoke from the doorway, “when I went down to confirm tonight’s menu and Cook told me Miss Poffington is ill. The news is so distressing, I knew the other guests would be in sore need of cheering up.” The sparkle in her eyes belied the words. “I decided it’s a fine day for a picnic luncheon. Follow me.”
After our long wait, we hardly even began to explore this room before being dragged away! Paige stifled a groan, and she respectfully followed her hostess toward a dismal afternoon of fresh air and delicacies.
Chapter 8
The next morning, Stephen strode into the library to find Paige staring wistfully at the door to their secret room. Stephen held the only key, and the room was always locked to prevent the likes of Arabella pawing through things and causing irreparable damage.
He smiled, remembering the previous morning and Paige’s outburst of “I’m so glad you’re here!” Her thoughts mirrored his so often, yet she constantly surprised him. For a routine library renovation, the past two weeks had been anything but dull.
“Good morning.” She shot a conspiratorial smile at him. “If we continue this trend of getting here a little earlier every day, maybe we can actually finish! You know, since he begged off the picnic yesterday, Father is almost done cataloguing your collection already.”
“Could you believe that picnic took up the whole afternoon?” The earl shook his head in disbelief. The trek to the old abbey ruins made it so everyone returned to the manor just in time to change for supper. The only bright spot was Arabella’s absence.
He noticed the daisies Paige had picked yesterday now graced the mantel. The other women snatched up lilacs and roses for their own bedchambers, but it was so like her to leave the simple blossoms where others could appreciate them.
“I enjoyed the abbey, but I must confess to some frustration that we waited six days to open these trunks, and we only managed to get through three before stopping.” Paige traipsed in behind him as he unlocked the door. They fell to the task at hand with unbridled enthusiasm.
“Let’s try that one.” She gestured to a rather long crate resting in the corner under a stack of other boxes.
“We’ll have to get to it first.” He hefted another box off the pile and set it on the old school table.
Paige couldn’t resist peeking inside. “Oh, look at this!” The china doll with its exquisite painted features, beautifully stitched clothing, and tiny ringlets deserved admiration. Paige held it up to catch the candlelight.
“A doll?”
“Sorry, but there are a few things in here you might find interesting.” Paige moved aside to allow him room. In moments, Stephen animatedly dug around in what looked to be an old toy chest. He set down a spinning top, some crooked samplers, and a few carved animals before pausing.
“Would you look at this? Someone had a talent for whittling.” He drew out handfuls of figures, each about three inches tall.
“What are they? Toy soldiers?”
“Prussian soldiers. Look at the detail! Their uniforms are perfect right down to the last detail. And these chess pieces—Wait a minute….” He dove into the toy chest once more and emerged with more chessmen and a board of contrasting light- and dark-hued wood.
“Truly exceptional workmanship,” she agreed. “We should find a place for this in the library.”
Years fell away from him as he pulled out an intricately carved, life-size sword. “The one I played with as a child couldn’t hope to compare with this.” Stephen ran an admiring hand down the dull blade. “We’ll have to find a place to display this, too.” He placed both beside the doll on the table, which would hold the wonderful things they found. The next crate proved more difficult to open.
“I think Mrs. O’Leary left a crowbar in here, just in case.” He watched as Paige rummaged in the corner and emerged triumphantly.
With her hair slightly mussed, a streak of dirt across her cheek, and her right arm enthusiastically brandishing a heavy crowbar, she looked like a librarian warrior queen. If every other trunk held only clothing, it didn’t matter. Stephen knew he’d already found the most precious thing in the entire manor. He took the crowbar and worked at the lid until it popped off.
“I think it’s more clothes. Let’s look at them later and move on.” He shook his head as she pulled at the cloth. What was it about women and clothes? Reaching for another chest, he pulled up short at her admiring gasp. He turned to find a real warrior queen, complete with helmet and shield, woven into an intricate tapestry Paige held aloft. She came back into view as she laid the piece on the table.
“You really do have to stop rejecting anything that isn’t paper, milord! Isn’t she magnificent?” The same glee as had been evident when she waved the crowbar lit her face, and he couldn’t help but smile.
“I’ve never seen anything so wonderful.” His reply had less to do with the tapestry than its champion, but Paige didn’t notice.
“I think it’s Deborah, one of only two female judges to rule Israel. Am I right?” Her question made him take a closer look.
“I believe so. This would be a depiction of when she rode with Barak to defeat Sisera. She was supposed to be his talisman of God’s favor.”
“See? Behind every great man is a determined woman.” Paige’s eyes sparkled with humor.
No self-respecting man could leave it at that. “The trick is that the man chooses the woman.”
She chuckled in acknowledgment of his comeback. “Deborah would look marvelous over the mantel, don’t you think?”
“Certainly. I wonder who made this and where she came from.”
He lifted the now-empty crate to make room for the next and found a slim volume sliding around. “What’s this? I can’t read it, but it looks like German.”
Paige came to read over his shoulder as he opened the book. He caught a whiff of sunshine and honeysuckle as concentration furrowed her brow.
“It’s a diary. And you’re right; it is German. Wait a minute! Annalisa of Ravenhurst,” she murmured and scurried off to one of the trunks they’d opened yesterday. “Yes, that’s right.” She brought over the miniature of the woman and traced the name on the back.
“It’s her diary, and she probably wove the tapestry!”
“It makes sense. Germany has a strong warrior heritage.” He flipped through the diary, curious. “Why don’t you read it to me?” He handed her the diary, and she perched on the edge of the table next to the tapestry. He caught a glimpse of trim ankles and dainty feet enclosed in worn leather half-boots before she adjusted her skirts. He settled on one of the sturdier trunks as she began to translate.
“Fifth of April, Year of Our Lord, 1763
Today the Mother Superior called me to her office. After Papa’s death, I was certain I’d stay here the rest of my life as I have no other relatives.
I did not know Papa arranged a betrothal for me until this afternoon. This diary is a gift from my intended, the first Earl of Pemberton, whom I am told received his title in service to his king.
It is kind of him, and I hope bodes well for the future. He also sent a miniature of himself. He seems a handsome man, not dissolute, so I pray he not be given to drinking, gambling, or any other vice….”
An elusive memory niggled in the back of Stephen’s mind. He concentrated, content just to hear the soothing tones of her voice. Then he remembered.
“Wait a minute!” His sudden exclamation startled her, and she almost dropped the diary.
“What?” Disgruntled, she was absolutely adorable. He completely understood; whenever he began reading, the world faded away.
“This is family legend. I remember my grandfather telling me when I was just a boy.” Interest flashed in her silver eyes, encouraging him to continue.
“The first earl of Pemberton was appointed in the early eighteenth century for service to the crown. I believe he uncovered an assassination plot. This manor always belonged to the family, but we only bore a viscountcy until then. As the story goes, the first earl, my great-grandfather, agreed to a diplomatic, arranged marriage with a younger German noblewoman whose father bore no sons. It’s rather poetic that a woman with no more family was given a new family with a new name—almost like they’d start off on more of an equal footing.”
“So the miniatures are the very first earl and his young bride?” Paige clutched the diary in her excitement.
“It looks like that’s the case,” he agreed.
“How wonderful. To think all of this came from Germany when they were wed.” A troubled frown creased her brow. “But why would everything be locked in here?”
“My ancestor went to fetch his bride in autumn, and they were wed immediately in Germany. They stayed for the winter rather than travel and didn’t leave for England until late summer, after she’d born his heir. Supposedly they loved each other deeply, but she died on the trip to England. By all accounts, losing her grieved the first earl deeply, and he never remarried.”
“That’s terrible.” Regret lined her expressive face. “Well, now we know the secret of the hidden room. I imagine he couldn’t bear to look at the things that reminded him of her, so he sealed them in a spare room. Such a pity. She seemed like a lovely woman.” Paige traced the flowing script with one finger.
“Why don’t you read a bit more before we continue looking through the trunks?” he encouraged, loathe to leave the story on such a disheartening note. It made the place a bittersweet treasure—bitter from its poignant past, but sweet because he shared it with Paige. Stephen didn’t want her to regret their special room, especially not the time they spent in it together.
Paige began translating again:
“Seventh of April, Year of Our Lord, 1763
My betrothed is on his way to fetch me. I pray daily for peace and strive to give my concern to the Lord, though it is difficult when I think of how I will be marrying a man I’ve never spoken with and moving to another country.
The tapestry of Deborah I began takes on a new meaning for me. Since my great-great grandmother Lorice, weaving has been a skill and comfort to the women of our family. Now, the task deepens, reminding me to trust in God’s plans for my life. I take comfort that Deborah was another woman the Lord took far away from everything she knew to lead her country to victory on the battlefield.
My marriage is to strengthen my country, and I, too, will be going someplace I’d never imagined I’d belong. I hope to finish the tapestry before the earl arrives. I harbor hopes it will hang in our home someday. I do not bring much to this man save a good name and my determination to be a good wife.
I have a few baubles, this tapestry, and my most precious possession—the Gutenberg Bible passed down through our family for generations. I cherish the thought that I may have children who will use it to further their walk with the Lord….”
Paige’s voice trailed off as she looked up from the diary to meet his gaze.
“If he really did put everything of hers in this room, then is it possible the other items mentioned are in here, as well?” Even in her excitement, she didn’t articulate the hope of finding an original Gutenberg Bible.
“There’s only one way to find out.” He followed as she hopped off the table and headed for the remaining unopened trunks.
“This one. I don’t know why, but I’m positive.” Paige shoved a large trunk off the smaller crate she’d singled out earlier.
“Move back a second.”
She stepped back as he used the crowbar to open the crate. Paige couldn’t help but notice the play of strong muscles beneath his blue superfine overcoat. When he moved aside, she squeezed in for a better look, her heart pounding.
Chapter 9
They’d found it. She reached for the large object at the same time he did. She tried to convince herself the tingles racing up her spine were due to the excitement over finding such a treasure. He held it as she unwound the old cloth, revealing brown leather.
Beautifully made, the leather-covered studs across the front formed a cross. Awestruck, she touched them, smiling as his hand covered hers. Neither of them spoke, their silence a mark of reverence for the cherished Bible.
Papa walked into the room. “It’s awfully quiet in here.” His voice boomed around them.
“Papa, look!”
“What’s this?” Her father became quieter as he suspected the magnitude of the find. “Can it be?”
“An original Gutenberg,” the earl confirmed. He opened it, and the pages fell to Psalms.
“ ’thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.’ ” Paige translated the Latin aloud, marveling that they should find this verse so naturally.
The first letter of each chapter was written in red, with exquisite rubrication in still-vivid hues of green and gold embellishing the thick pages.
“Here.” Stephen gently flipped through the volume until he reached the verse he sought. “ ‘Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom’—Colossians.”
“Surely the Lord intended for you find it,” Papa said softly. He reached out and returned to the front of the volume. “ ’the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom: and the knowledge of the holy is understanding’—Proverbs.”
“That brings to mind another of my favorite verses.” Stephen turned a few precious leaves. “ ‘A wise man is strong; a man of knowledge yea, increaseth strength.’ Also Proverbs. Wisdom and understanding from the Lord strengthens us not only as individuals, but as His children.”
“Turn to Romans chapter nine, verses thirty-eight through thirty-nine,” Paige requested. She laughed. “I forgot they hadn’t n
umbered the verses yet.”
The earl scanned through the book of Romans and finally read aloud, “ ‘For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.’ ”
“This is one of my favorites because it reminds me that no matter where I am, He is with me,” Paige said.
“And He loves us,” Papa added. “Let’s see if we can find First John chapter four, verses seven through eight, please.”
“No need.” Stephen closed his eyes. “I know them by heart: ‘Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of God; and every one that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God. He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love.’ ”
The holy words of love spoken in Stephen’s deep bass sent tingles down Paige’s spine once more. She darted a look at Papa, and his raised eyebrows told her he’d intentionally brought up the subject of love.
“Oh, you know your favorite verse isn’t here, Papa. After all, the commandment, ‘Honour thy father and thy mother’ is in Exodus.” She ended the disturbing topic of love, only to realize something. “The diary only mentions the Gutenberg Bible. I wonder if she possessed both volumes, or if she refers to this alone.”
“I don’t know. There’s not another in the crate, and I’d imagine they would be packed together to prevent separation if she owned both.”
“But they were traveling. Could it have been to prevent the loss of both if one went missing?” She hated to sound as though she were ungrateful for what they’d been given, for they now held a blessing from heaven.
“We’ll write to the abbey where she stayed and see if they know anything about it. I don’t see any other matching crates.” Stephen still didn’t sound disappointed, merely fascinated.
British Brides Collection Page 24
