by Renee Duke
Chapter Nine
Grantie Etta was again entertaining visitors when they got to Rosebank. This time it was their grandfather and his older brother, who were sitting in armchairs on either side of her.
“Well, my dears, does tomorrow’s itinerary meet with your approval?” Granddad asked. “Most children enjoy getting lost in mazes, and Hampton Court has a good one. As for visiting the City, well, I thought it might work in well with your…current interests.” The last statement was accompanied by a wink.
As soon as Aunt Augusta had gone, Paige folded her arms and looked directly at her grandfather. “Grantie’s told you we’re using the medallion, hasn’t she?”
“No. She told Uncle Edmond. He told me. I was delighted to hear it. We had great fun with it in our day.”
“This Hetty you’ve connected to sounds quite the character,” Uncle Edmond remarked as they scooted onto the sofa to sit opposite the adults. “Have you met any other interesting people, besides her and her brother?”
“Several. One might even have been an ancestor,” Paige added, her memory jogged by her grandfather’s recent wink. “Some guy called him Mr. Hollingsworth and, except for the pince-nez glasses and his beard being a bit trimmer, he looked just like you, Granddad.”
“Did he indeed?” Granddad glanced across at his brother. “Great Uncle Clive lived in London. Do you think it could have been him?”
Uncle Edmond nodded. “Must have been.” His next remarks were addressed to the children. “Clive blackened the Hollingsworth name by choosing commerce over history. He made a packet wheeling and dealing in various commodities. In his later years he became what polite society termed ‘eccentric’. The family just thought he was bonkers.”
“We only knew his two youngest sisters,” Granddad added. “Being considerably older than them, he’d gone to his glory long before we came along. By then even they were in their high nineties, but they told us quite a bit about ‘poor dear Clive’. They claimed I was the image of a childhood portrait their parents had had painted.”
“He seemed okay to me,” said Dane. “What made people think he was crazy?”
“Oh, little things like climbing onto his roof in a violent storm to test a new kind of umbrella he’d invested in. And keeping a pet goat that he took for walks in Hyde Park. He was also a sucker for any sob story or wild scheme that came his way. He threw large sums of money at a number of charitable institutions, some worthy, some not. To get it, they often had to agree to bizarre conditions—like allowing him to name all the residents of a rescue centre for stray dogs.”
“Well, crazy or not, he was very nice,” said Paige. “He gave me half a crown.”
She told them the story of the solicitor’s satchel. “We didn’t want a share of the money, but Hetty made us take it. And then, poor as she is, she used some of hers to treat her friends. They don’t have much either, but at least they look a bit presentable. Even our clothes were better than Hetty and Pip’s. When I first saw them, I couldn’t believe they had something as valuable as that Keeper brooch. But Jack said they were the kids we were after, and he was right.”
“Really?” Avery Hollingsworth looked at his youngest grandchild with interest. “How did you happen to know that, Jack?”
“I don’t know. I just did. Same as I knew which way we had to go to find them.”
“And how he knew to go to the princes when they were in trouble,” said Grantie Etta. “I told you how upset he was that night, Avery. Practically hysterical.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Jack protested.
“I would,” said Paige, remembering.
Dane nodded in agreement.
“So what?” Jack said irritably. “I was getting really strong feelings about it.”
Grantie Etta, Granddad, and Uncle Edmond all looked at each other.
“Well?” Grantie Etta appeared to be asking her great nephews some sort of question.
“Sounds promising,” Granddad responded, sounding pleased.
“Yes,” said Uncle Edmond. “I think we’ve got ourselves another divvy,” He stood up and wandered around the room, rubbing his hands gleefully. “A divvy,” he repeated, sensing the children’s bewilderment. “A diviner. One who can divine things. In this case, things about the medallion and its ways. Down through the years, certain users have somehow been blessed with flashes of insight into its workings.”
“What kind of insights?” Paige wanted to know.
“Hints. Instructions. Snippets of information. Even warnings, like the one Primrose Wolverton had put on a watch I have.”
“And the ones on some samplers I felt compelled to stitch as a girl,” put in Grantie Etta.
“You got flashes of insight too?” Dane inquired.
“A few. Stitching samplers was one of those tiresome chores little girls with old-fashioned governesses were still expected to perform in my day. Much to the annoyance of mine, I rejected standard things like, ‘Home Sweet Home,’ and, ‘A stitch in time saves nine’, and did those instead.”
She pointed to the wall beside her. On it hung three samplers.
The first said:
‘Believe not all that has been told
Chronicles support the bold.’
The second:
‘Revelation requires careful thought,
Some knowledge could bring all to naught.’
And the third:
‘If they would a good race run,
Young and old must work as one.’
“What do they mean?” asked Paige.
Grantie Etta pursed her lips. “Good question. Immediate comprehension doesn’t seem to be part of the package. We think we’ve worked them out, though.”
“Yes,” said Granddad. “‘Believe not all that you’ve been told’ is probably a way of saying that history is not always accurately recorded. Accounts of wars, for example, tend to present the winners in a much better light than the losers.”
Uncle Edmond returned to his chair. “The second is similar to the one on the watch. It’s urging users to be careful about what they say, and to whom they say it.
“What about the third?” asked Dane.
Grantie Etta answered him. “My aunt, who’d be your four times great-aunt, Sarra, thought it meant users should go on working with other users after they outgrow their own ability to travel via the medallion. In that way, each generation can benefit from the knowledge of the others and work towards the medallion’s ultimate goal.”
“Which is?” Paige wanted to know.
“According to her sister, Rosalina, the rescue of Varteni. Rosalina got insights too. She later wrote them down as a children’s story and had it privately published. I’ve never read it, though. By the time the medallion was passed to me, she only had one copy left, and had no idea where she’d put it.”
“Couldn’t she remember the story?” asked Paige.
“I’m afraid not. Rosalina was robust enough as a child, but when she was in her early twenties, her health turned somewhat delicate. After one of her illnesses she became a bit…scatty. Which is what she was like when I knew her. Pity. I’d have liked to have perused that little tale.”
“So would I,” said Granddad. “Too bad the inspiration for it didn’t go to the more sensible Sarra. We’ve never been able to figure out why some users get favoured with insights and others don’t.”
“Oh, that’s easy,” said Jack.
Everyone looked at him.
“It is. Think about it. Sarra’s sister was Rosalina. Grantie Etta’s full name is Rosetta. The box the medallion is usually kept in was carved to the specifications of a Roswell, sometimes spelled Rosewell, Wolverton, and that watch with the verse originated with Primrose Wolverton. Uncle Edmond told us the name Varteni means ‘rose tree’. If the medallion—which has a rose on it—was made for the purpose of helping her, it stands to reason that all the people getting insights would have rose-based names too.”
“Well, aren’t you the
clever boy!” said Uncle Edmond, impressed.
Paige wasn’t. “The name Jack doesn’t have anything to do with roses,” she pointed out.
“Ah, but one of his middle names does,” said Granddad.
“That’s right,” Jack confirmed. “I was christened Jonathan Nicholas Rhodes Taisley. Jonathan because Mummy liked it, Nicholas because it’s Daddy’s middle name, and Rhodes because they were just about to set off for the Greek island of Rhodes when they got first option on me. And Rhodes means ‘where roses grow’.”
“First option?” queried Paige.
Jack grinned. “That’s how Daddy puts it. My birth parents were two of his students. Being quite brainy, they started university at an earlier age than most people. But before they’d even finished their first year, they found out they were going to be parents at an earlier age than most people as well. They were barely sixteen and both on scholarships. They weren’t ready to look after a baby. Everyone on campus knew Mummy and Daddy wanted one, so they went to Daddy and asked him if they’d like to have me. He says he thought about it for a while and then said, ‘Yes, please!’.”
“A while?” jeered Uncle Edmond. “Ten seconds at best. “He didn’t even consult Augusta.”
“He didn’t have to,” said Granddad. “She was over the moon when she came to tell me and Valeria. She and Gareth had been trying to adopt for over ten years. He was already forty-two, and with her fortieth birthday fast approaching, she was sure they were no longer under serious consideration. Going off to Rhodes was merely her way of dealing with depression. That trip went right out the window, of course. Even though the brat wasn’t due for another five months, she started a whirlwind of preparations. Nesting instinct, I think they call it.”
“And Jack has medallion instincts.” Dane nodded approvingly. “Cool.”
“Are these instincts telling you any specific place we should try to make a connection from tomorrow?” Paige asked her cousin.
Jack thought for moment and then shook his head. “No. I expect any of the places we’ve been with them would be all right.”
“The City should work then,” said Granddad. “And I’ll be able to show you its Roman attractions to boot. There’s a wall there, you know, and a temple to Mithras.”
“Did you ever get back to Roman times when you were using the medallion?” Dane asked him.
“Yes, from Chester. One of our uncles was doing some excavating there and took us along. We connected to the children of a third-century legionnaire, a boy and two girls. Having put in his twenty-five years, the chap was due to receive his pay-out and some land back in Rome. They were getting ready to go when we showed up.”
“But something went wrong with that plan? Something you had to change?”
“Just the plan itself. The mother was a local girl and the children had all been born in England. They liked it there and wanted to stay. We helped them sell their father on the idea. I don’t know how that helped them. Perhaps, if they’d gone, the family would have been shipwrecked or something. Or the father might, or might not, have made a success of the farm in Rome, thus changing everyone’s status.”
“But keeping them in England must have been what we were supposed to do,” said Uncle Edmond. “As soon as he agreed, the medallion started tingling in the way we had come to understand, and I assume you have come to understand, it does when a task has been accomplished. Your granddad was most put out about having to leave Roman times, weren’t you Avery?”
“Yes, I was. It’s always been my favourite period.” He glanced at his watch. “Now, however, it’s time I went home. I’ve a few things to do, and you three really shouldn’t stay up too late. We’ll be leaving early, and we all know how much some of you like that, don’t we, Jack?”
“Hmph,” said Jack.
Chapter Ten
As with their other outings, the next day was bright and clear. Despite this, Granddad showed up after breakfast wearing a three-piece suit with some kind of dress boots. He was also carrying an umbrella and a carpet bag, both of them large.
“Expecting it to rain?” asked Paige.
“It might. Weather’s been nice for several days now. Can’t possibly last.”
“What’s in the bag?”
“Oh, just something to help me pass the time whilst you’re off exploring bygone places,” he replied vaguely.
“We’ll only be gone, like, a minute, of our time.”
“Whilst you’re off exploring some of the present-day places then.”
The Tudor kitchens and the rest of Hampton Court’s interior were not without charm, but as Granddad had predicted, the maze proved to be the main child pleaser.
Once in the City, the Temple of Mithras and the Museum of London were both interesting, but secondary to the day’s purpose.
“You should keep your own clothes on under your ragged ones,” Granddad told them as they entered a public convenience near St. Paul’s. “They won’t be that noticeable, and if it’s no longer summer, you’ll be cold without them.”
While they were changing, he looked for an unobtrusive spot for making a time transfer. He found one and stood behind them, smiling, as they joined hands and listened as Jack recited the connecting rhyme.
When the mist cleared, he was still smiling, and still standing behind them, with his hand on Jack’s shoulder.
“Granddad, you came too!” Dane cried, amazed.
“Sorry. I couldn’t resist finding out if I could. As long as I recited the rhyme, the medallion let Uncle Edmond travel with me after he turned sixteen. But despite what Grantie’s sampler says about young and old working together, we were never sure if it would allow an adult to do the same. Seems it does. You can take me back if you want.”
The look of longing on his face was impossible to ignore.
“It’s okay,” said Paige. “We don’t mind.”
“You might even prove useful,” said Jack.
“I shall endeavour to be so.”
The mysterious carpet bag contained a silk top hat, a grey frock coat, and pince-nez glasses on a gold chain. Once he’d put them on and exchanged his modern tie for a cravat, he looked almost exactly like the man they had bumped into outside the office of Henshaw and Pemberley, Solicitors.
Only a few people were about to witness the transformation, none of whom paid much attention. It appeared to be early morning on an overcast day. There was a nip in the air, and had the children not followed their grandfather’s advice, they would indeed have felt the cold.
“Now to find Hetty and Pip,” said Paige. “I don’t know how we’re going to explain you though, Granddad.”
“You won’t have to. I have no intention of cramping your style. My bag also contains an old map of London and a bit of period appropriate local currency. I shall wander around happily and meet you in front of St. Paul’s Cathedral in, what, two or three hours? At that time you can let me know what your plans are and we’ll make further arrangements.”
“Okay,” said Paige.
Granddad stopped a passer-by who looked affluent enough to own a watch. “Excuse me, my good man, do you happen to have the time?”
Upon learning it was almost seven o’clock, he adjusted two period appropriate watches he had in his pocket. “Shall we say ten o’clock?” he said, handing one to Dane.
Dane nodded and put the watch in his own pocket.
“So, where do we look for Hetty and Pip?” he asked Jack as Granddad strode off swinging his umbrella.
“I don’t know. Nothing’s springing to mind. Let’s try the river.”
Dozens of mudlarks were shivering in the shallow water near Blackfriars Bridge. Hetty was one of them, but Pip was just sitting on the bank. He called back a greeting when Dane hailed them. Hetty merely looked up, frowned slightly, and went on filling their sack.
“Guess she’s still mad that her friends went off with Dr. Barnardo and we were pressuring her to do the same,” Paige said as they went to join Pip.
“Bones and rope mostly,” Hetty replied.
“I see you’re back ’larking. Don’t you have any of your satchel money left?”
“Course not. That were nigh on a year ago.”
A year. Paige looked at them more closely. She and Pip were not much taller, but did seem a little older. Pip was now even paler than he had been. He also had a bad cough, which was why he had not been down in the water with Hetty.
“It must have lasted you quite a while, though.”
“Nah. Went through it in a fortnight. Old Rosie had to have it. We heard she were poorly and went round to see her. It were a cold day, and raining buckets. She hadn’t been able to do any of the trimming or mending work what people had brought her and was short the rent money. If we hadn’t got there when we did, the landlord would’ve turned her out.”
Paige was outraged. “What? How could he even think of doing such a thing to an old lady who wasn’t well?”
“Likes of him don’t care how folks is keeping. Or how old they is. Can’t work? Tough. No work, no dosh. No dosh, no rent, so out you go. She didn’t have no food nor medicine neither. She were always so good to us, I couldn’t see her go without, not when me and Pip had all that. She cried when I give it her.”
“Is she better now?” asked Jack.
Their concern appeared to sweep away any resentment Hetty may have been harbouring. When she next spoke, it was in a much friendlier tone. “She rallied once we was there. Said seeing us helped more than the medicine. We didn’t tell her about getting ditched. Or being mudlarks. We just told her we was with Dr. Barnardo’s lot and doing all right.”
“But you’re not with Dr. Barnardo’s lot, are you?” Paige postulated.
“Just the school. We still goes. I can read now.”
“So’s can I,” said Pip. “But not as good as Hetty. The school give us ever such a long letter from Nolly, and she read it easy as anything.”
