The Amber Pendant

by Imogen White

  “Dear heart,” Miss Templeforth smiled. “This pendant is a force of great good, you must not fear it. It will protect you, and offer you much comfort. It contains strong magic and a memory of all those who have guarded it. You will become a part of it. A part of a special family, if you like.”

  Family? Rose gripped the edge of her stool, remembering the way it made her feel like she belonged. “Yes,” she whispered.

  “It bonds with each new guardian in different ways,” Miss Templeforth pressed on. “It warns me of danger. It has kept me strong for many years; offered me great well-being. But now I am dying – and it seeks the next guardian –” she looked directly at Rose – “YOU.”

  Miss Templeforth gave Rose a quick smile that spoke a thousand words. It spoke of relief, delight and something else – of finding something really precious they’d thought lost for ever. The smile of someone who knew they could finally die in peace. The old lady held her hands in front of her lips and rubbed them together. “And you, Rose Muddle, will do us very nicely.”

  “Me? But I was just getting used to being a scullery maid and—”

  “Hush now, Rose.” Miss Lee tapped her hand. “Miss Templeforth and I are here to guide you. You are not alone. You are very special.”

  Special? When Rose had held that pendant it had felt like a part of her, she knew that wasn’t imagined. Impossible though it might be, she found herself wondering if it could be true. What if I am someone special after all? A bolt of adrenaline rushed through her.

  Rose straightened. “If I am the guardian,” she looked between the two ladies, “like what you say I am, what is it that I’m s’posed to do?”

  “Excellent question, Rose!” Miss Templeforth clapped her withered hands. “The most pressing issue at the moment is that the pendant will become vulnerable when it switches from being mine to being yours. It needs time to bond with you once I have passed away. We fear the other pendant holder will try to take it during this period of transition. It is vital as the new guardian that you prevent this from happening – you must keep the pendant safe.”

  Rose’s fingers flexed. The old lady knew she was dying, and yet she was being so brave. Miss Templeforth’s final earthly wish was for the pendant to be protected by Rose. And even though it was the biggest responsibility anyone could ever give her, Rose wanted it. If that pendant was hers, she knew she’d keep it for ever and ever. Her gaze fell to the curious orange disc once more, longing to feel its energy again.

  “Rose,” Miss Lee’s blue eyes electrified as she spoke, “you have been chosen by the Templeforth pendant. Which means you, like Miss Templeforth, are part of an important bloodline that stretches back over thousands of years.”

  Rose nodded, catching her breath.

  Miss Lee continued, “I will help you to learn how to control it, Rose. Together we can discover more about your powers over it. About who you are and why it chose you. And about the identity of the other pendant holder. We need your help. The evil in the cup must stay contained. Without you…I fear all is lost.”

  All is lost without me? Rose swallowed, scarcely able to believe what was happening. Then she asked the question nagging at the back of her mind. “But…what is inside the cup?”

  Miss Lee walked over to the fire. The portrait of the woman with the fan still stared at Rose. Miss Lee turned. “It’s everything together that creates the problem, Rose. If the pendants are held back to back in the presence of the cup, a gateway is formed. The dominant pendant – the one placed on top – will cover its twin and draw the other’s energy into itself. Creating a powerful force.”

  “The pendants held back to back. Gateway?” Rose mumbled to herself.

  “Yes, a gateway to somewhere…terrible. Together they would allow an unimaginable evil to escape onto this earth. You need to protect the pendant with your life once it belongs to you.”

  “Right.” Rose gulped, her mind exploding into a thousand pieces. All she’d ever wanted was to be free from the workhouse, to be a name, not a number, to be needed. And now here she was. After all those years of being told she was worthless. The stray pieces of herself had begun to fly back together. Her grey eyes glistened. Rose felt different, she realized. For the first time ever she felt…real. A new fire was burning inside her.

  “Are you all right, Rose?” Miss Lee asked squeezing her arm.

  Rose nodded with a grin. “I can do it!” At that moment Rose felt she could do anything.

  “Good. It is vital your presence here is not met with suspicion.” Miss Lee spoke in urgent whispers. “No one must know that you are to be the next guardian. You are in terrible jeopardy should the other guardian find out.”

  “So,” Miss Templeforth continued, “I have a new job planned for you. Important visitors are arriving at noon tomorrow and I should like you to take on the role of companion to one of them.”

  “Important visitors? A companion?” Rose lifted her hand to her chest and leaned forward. “Me?”

  Miss Templeforth smiled. “It will mean that we can spend more time together without people asking questions – give you the freedom to leave the house. And at the same time we can do some more work with the pendant.”

  Rose nodded. More than anything in the world she wanted to hold that pendant again, to learn about the magic inside it, and find out why it had chosen her.

  The old lady went on. “It is important you learn to control it, and with your extraordinary power over it, perhaps we can work out exactly who this other guardian is…” she trailed off, then brightened. “And, as for your new companion, I would trust him with my life.”

  Rose sank her nails into her arm, and it hurt. This really is happening.

  “You must take the attic room as your quarters, Rose,” Miss Lee interrupted. “The kitchen is no longer suitable.”

  “A room…of my own?”

  “Indeed!” Miss Lee beamed. “And I have taken the liberty of depositing a package up there. Just some clothes and a bit of money.”

  “Thank you, Ma’am, Miss Lee,” Rose gasped.

  Things were happening so fast she could barely keep up, but to be given her own room – not just a bed in the corner of the kitchen – a place just for her. No one had ever treated her so kindly. From the workhouse, to a scullery maid – to THIS. Tears stung Rose’s eyes. She couldn’t find words to express how much it all meant.

  “We are dependent on you now, Rose. We will talk more tomorrow. The pendant is to be yours on my death, which is not far off, I fear.” Miss Templeforth sighed. Lifting the back of her hand to her forehead, she slumped further into her chair. “That is quite enough for today. I need to rest; we all do.”

  Rose bobbed her head and turned to leave, wonder shining in her eyes, but Miss Lee gripped her arm. “From now on you must call me Enna. If you ever need me, you can find me at the Pleasure Gardens in St Ann’s Well, up near the furze. I work there telling fortunes and I go by the name Gypsy Lee. Dark forces are penetrating this world; if the pendant falls into the wrong hands we will all be in mortal danger. You, Rose Muddle, have been chosen to stop them.”

  It’s got to be a load of old cobblers, Rose thought the following morning. She stared out of her attic window at the chimney pots merrily chuffing away. Any thoughts of pendants, guardians and evil things stuck in cups seemed a million miles from reality.

  She’d been delivered a tray of buttered toast earlier, and even had a bath prepared for her. But the day maid had not smiled once. News of Rose’s promotion surely caused quite a stir downstairs. Mr Crank must have been spitting enough feathers to stuff an eiderdown by now.

  From this high up, Rose could see from the English Channel right across to Blatchington Windmill and the rolling South Downs beyond. Closing her eyes, she drew a deep breath, her mind buzzing with all that had happened the evening before.

  She couldn’t forget the way that pendant had made her feel – and she longed to hold it again, despite the scary visions it had given her. How
comes I could see inside that man’s head? And who was he anyway? Question upon question stacked in her mind like jars about to topple. And in the midst of it all, Enna’s words came back to her about ancient things trapped inside amber: “Inclusions they are called. Some people believe amber can preserve stranger things. Dark things.”

  And they think I’m somehow related to the mistress! Rose’s nose crinkled. But how can I be? She’d never questioned anything she’d been told about her past; she’d had no reason to. But now things were different. She closed her eyes and tried to remember the story she’d had from Miss Gritt.

  Her mother had been a workhouse child too. Rose knew that much. Patricia Martha Flitch. Rose smiled, she liked that name. She’d always imagined her ma was kind and smelled of flowers.

  They’d told Rose that Patricia had left the workhouse when she was old enough, and got a job at the docks in Shoreham. There she’d met Rose’s pa, got married and become a Muddle. Rose liked to think they were madly in love.

  After Rose’s pa had left on a sea voyage and never returned, her mother discovered she was carrying their baby; she was totally penniless. She’d had no choice but to go back to the workhouse to have me…and that’s where she…died. Rose swallowed the lump in her throat. No matter which way round she looked at it, Rose couldn’t see how she could be a Templeforth. Unless Miss Gritt had lied to her – but why would she bother to do that?

  Rose settled herself down at the dressing table. “Ma would be proper proud of me now though, wouldn’t she? A companion!” Smiling, she rested her chin on her hands and examined the attic bedroom through the reflection in the oval mirror in front of her. The sloping whitewashed ceiling shone in the morning sunshine.

  Her smile faltered as she remembered the rest of the girls, back at the workhouse, sleeping in that freezing dormitory, dreading the sound of Gritt’s jangling keys as she patrolled outside, just waiting for the chance to give one of them a good hiding. She knew she was lucky to be out, and that the ones still living in that wicked place would want her to make this work.

  Taking a deep breath, Rose stood up and patted down the green velvet dress she had found inside Enna’s brown paper package. It fitted well enough. The boots she’d discovered pinched her toes a little, but they were new and looked expensive, she thought, pointing her toe from beneath the hem of her dress. She’d also been given a nightdress and a kid-leather pouch containing five shillings. Five whole shillings! More than a month’s wages. More money than Rose had ever held before. She jingled the pouch and grinned.

  She spun around to look at herself in the mirror again. Leaning forward she studied her face, her clean, clear skin, wide slate-grey eyes and small lips. She had tried to dress up her hair by pinning it at the front and leaving it to hang long at the back. She hardly recognized herself at all.

  Well, I look the part all right. Her nerves tingled as she wondered about the visitors, and who she would be a companion to. She just hoped that they would like her…and not ask too many questions. She decided to stick to talking about the weather or better still, to saying as little as possible, just nodding and smiling instead. After all, how hard can it be? she rallied. I’ll be absolutel—

  RAP-RAP-RAP.

  The front door. Midday?

  And as if to confirm it, the grandfather clock in the lobby began to chime – twelve times.

  She jumped over the maid’s uniform that lay discarded at the side of her bed and, lifting her velvet dress to her knees, charged down the narrow wooden steps and along the landing. At the top of the grand staircase – the same one she’d spent the previous morning polishing – she could see Mr Crank striding past Cook and the grim-faced day maids, who were already lining up. Rose nearly threw herself down the remaining stairs, and, taking the last three steps in one huge leap, she landed with a clap on the tiled floor.

  Mr Crank spun round and scowled.

  “Sorry, Sir,” Rose mouthed, her chest tight.

  “Phff.” His thin lips curled as he turned away. But he didn’t say a word.

  Raising her chin, she smiled inwardly. I’m a companion now. He can’t have a go at me so easy any more. She positioned herself by the clock, next to the others and looked nervously at the front door.

  Mr Crank dabbed his temples with a folded hanky. Then he opened the heavy door and stepped aside. Rose balanced on the balls of her feet, trying to see past him. She spotted the grand carriage parked outside and nearly squeaked.

  An old Indian gentleman, wearing a cream silk turban set with a large central ruby, strode into the lobby. His face was as wrinkly as a walnut with a long, grey beard covering his chin and a well-coiffed moustache finished with waxed twists hanging over his upper lip. He clasped a thick gilded book covered in ornate patterns in one hand. But most striking of all was the metal hook that protruded from his sleeve where his other hand should have been.

  Rose bobbed a curtsey, but the gentleman didn’t notice her, he just swept past. His silk tunic shifted noiselessly about him. A visitor from the East? The words of the strange man from her vision in the library slipped into her mind.

  The visitor stopped next to the entrance to the library and considered the many stuffed creatures adorning the walls – they stared straight back at him.

  Coach hands were busy lugging carved wooden trunks through the front door. They stacked them up one on top of the other in the lobby. The breeze from the open door carried a faint and unfamiliar smell. Sweet and smoky, Rose thought, as she shut her eyes and breathed it all in.

  On opening them again, she noticed another guest had appeared at the entrance, a boy of about her age. But he was like no boy she’d ever met. His embroidered golden coat reached the floor while his matching slippers turned up at the toes. He strode forward. Intelligent brown eyes fringed with dark, thick lashes flashed beneath his turban. Rose gawped; never in all her days had she seen such fancy folk.

  The sound of shattering glass and jeering cries from the street outside suddenly broke her train of thought, but just as Rose craned her neck to see what was going on, some kind of animal tore across the lobby. She stepped backwards. What the—? A monkey skidded to a halt in front of her. A monkey? It wore a red, cup-shaped hat and a waistcoat. Arching its back, it hissed and patrolled the ground between Rose and the new arrivals. Knee-high and agile, it spun round, its fierce little eyes pinned on her.

  Before she had a chance to react, the creature stood on its hind legs. It waved its miniature hands above its head manically, snarling and extending its jaw – loaded with oversized teeth – to reveal a thick wedge of gum. Rose shrieked, pressing herself against the clock.

  “No, Bahula!” The boy stepped forward, pulling the creature away by the scruff of its waistcoat.

  The monkey whimpered. Falling back on all fours, it scuttled over to its master. The old man scowled at Rose and rubbed the creature’s chin.

  Not the best of starts, Rose thought, with a dry swallow.

  Mr Crank coughed and everyone turned towards him.

  “Gentlemen, this way, please. Miss Templeforth is expecting you.”

  The boy left Rose with a backwards glance and Mr Crank knocked on the library door before making his grand introduction.

  “Ma’am, I have the great pleasure in announcing the arrival of Rui Singh, nephew to the Maharajah of Jaipur, his tutor and chaperone, Mr Gupta and their…erm…monkey?”

  The nephew of a maharajah! Rose’s eyebrows flew up. What’s one of them anyway? It don’t matter, they look like royalty. ROYALTY!

  Mr Crank jerked his head at Rose as the visitors disappeared inside. With a deep breath she hurried in behind them, wobbling just a little on the heels of her new boots, and totally unprepared for what might happen next.

  The library looked more friendly in the daylight than it had the evening before. Sunshine streamed through the trio of sash windows creating stretches of light, thick with floating dust particles. The animal skulls seemed less menacing too, with their shadows
tucked beneath them. But the lady in the portrait still eyed Rose suspiciously from behind her fan. Rose looked away, towards the guests.

  “R-uiii?” Miss Templeforth’s voice trailed off.

  The boy dashed across the room in a haze of gold, and hurriedly kneeled next to the winged armchair. “Miss T,” he began. “My favourite—” He stopped mid-sentence, his brow buckled.

  He weren’t expecting her to look so ill, Rose thought with a pang of pity.

  “Governess,” he managed through a forced smile. He cradled her withered hand.

  “The water, John,” Miss Templeforth croaked to Crank, who scurried around the back of the armchair. Rose edged forward so she could clearly see Miss Templeforth.

  “Fear not, I am here, Ma’am,” Crank crowed, rushing forward.

  The mistress’s face looked drawn of all blood. Rose’s eyes moved down to the pendant. Today it looked dark and ordinary – as lifeless as its owner.

  Mr Crank lifted a tumbler filled with the strange red liquid. Miss Templeforth sipped some, allowing the butler to wipe her mouth with a folded napkin.

  Rose noticed how gentle and caring Crank was towards his mistress. She’d never imagined he had it in him to be kind to anyone – but he clearly doted on her.

  Nodding her gratitude, Miss Templeforth turned to the boy, her pinched lips suddenly breaking into a generous smile, her eyes at once alive and glistening.

  What is that stuff? Rose stared at the glass.

  “Rui, you have grown so!” she began, her vigour renewed. “Why, you are nearly a man. The last time I saw you in Jaipur you were no bigger than a yardstick. Your journey from London was agreeable, I trust?”