"Yes," John said grimly. "That's just how it was. All the kingdoms of the world. He thinks they're his to give or withhold."
Adolphus was silent for a while. Then he said heavily, "I wonder if you're aware of his latest tactic. The rumour is going around the village that his money is being poured into this place, and of course everyone is rejoicing."
John groaned and dropped his head into his hands.
"How do I face them and tell them it won't happen?" he said. "In fact how do I fight Wyngate? What do you do with a man who doesn't understand the word 'no'."
"It's very simple," Adolphus said gently. "We pray for a miracle."
* Next morning Rena introduced Adolphus to Cecil and had the pleasure of seeing that the two men liked each other.
"He's a fine young man," Adolphus confided to Rena. "Brave and hard working. He showed me some of his scars from the beating. My goodness if he wasn't put off by that then he's very much in love with her."
After breakfast he asked to be shown the place where the cross had stood and the coins had been found. John and Rena took him down to the woods to the place where the great ugly hole was still visible, and he looked at it for a long time, murmuring, "Hmm!"
Then, with a strength that belied his years, he got down and rooted around in the earth, finally getting to his feet, gasping and brushing himself down.
"And you say he was watching you?"
"I'm certain of it," Rena said.
"Then there won't be anything left here. That's his way. What became of the cross?"
They showed it to him lying on the ground, and he immediately bent to lift it.
"Take the other end," he roared to John.
Between them they carried the post back to its original position and slammed it back into the ground, deep enough to stand upright. When they had packed the earth back around it and stamped it down, it seemed secure again.
"I'm so glad," Rena said quietly. "That was how Papa wanted it to be."
It was as though this old man had blown a trumpet, heralding battle.
Adolphus looked at her kindly.
"Is there a chapel in this place?" he asked.
"Yes, Papa conducted the last Earl's funeral there."
"Would you be kind enough to show it to me?"
She led the way back into the house and round to the east wing, where there was a tiny chapel.
"Charming," Adolphus said. "Just the place for a quiet service. But I suppose it's been deconsecrated."
"Oh no," she said quickly. "Papa would never hear of it. He said the next Earl might appear at any time, and the chapel must always be ready for him."
"Thank you, my dear."
Slowly he walked forward to the altar, and knelt before it. There were no gorgeous ornaments on it now. They had been put into store, or perhaps sold.
But to Adolphus its shabbiness did not exist. To him this was a place of glory. Rena slipped into a pew behind him and said her own quiet prayer, that Wyngate might not prevail, that Matilda and Cecil might find a way to be together, and that the love she shared with John might prosper.
While she prayed she looked through her fingers at Adolphus. She couldn't have said why, but there was something about him that drew her gaze. To others he might look merely a shabby old man, but she sensed the presence of a mighty warrior.
And when he rose to his feet she knew he had come to a decision.
* They returned to the kitchen to find John in a state of confusion. Several women from the village had confronted him, with their offerings. "A loaf of bread for your lordship," the baker's wife was saying. She was one of the women who had nursed Rena through her illness, and her face brightened at the sight of her. "And my husband would have me bring these ribs of beef," the butcher's wife put in quickly. "To welcome your lordship." There were eight of them, and they had all brought something as a 'welcome'. Milk, cheese, butter, meat, these poor people were giving them enough to fill the larder for days. They had heard the rumours of coming prosperity, and wanted to know if they were true. But part of them believed in good fortune against all odds, and this was their way of celebrating it. Rena saw the blazing hope in their faces, and was sick at heart. They took it for granted that she wanted the same thing that they did. What would they say if they knew she was the threat to their last hope? Looking at John's face she saw that he too had understood, and felt uneasy that he wasn't going to live up to their expectations.
When the last villager had gone, Adolphus said gently, "My son has done his work well, I see."
"They've been listening to the rumours he's spread," John said bitterly. "But what am I expected to do? I can't and won't marry Matilda, even if she was prepared to marry me. I should have just told them that Rena is to be my wife."
"No John," Rena said in a strained voice. "As you say, you can't marry Matilda, but that doesn't mean you can marry me. You have to think of them."
"Rena has this mad idea that I should put myself up for auction to some other heiress," John said angrily.
"You might - find one that you loved, and who loved you," she said. "If I wasn't here - "
"You or nobody," said John bluntly. "Adolphus, tell her she's talking nonsense."
"But perhaps she isn't," Adolphus said gently.
John was pale. "You can't mean that."
"I know that Rena will never do anything against her conscience," Adolphus said. "And you mustn't try to force her." He smiled at them both. "But we don't yet know what her conscience will say."
"But we do, we do," she said desperately.
"Have you forgotten my miracle," he asked, "or don't you believe in miracles?"
"I don't believe miracles happen to order, just because you want them," she said. "Oh, please I - "
Suddenly she felt she had to be alone.
"I must do some shopping," she said in a strained voice.
"After all this?" John asked, indicating the goods on the table.
"I still need more milk," she said hurriedly. "There are four of us living here now. I'll be back."
She ran out before they could detain her. Adolphus' words had caused a terrible pain in her heart. He was kind and gentle, and yet she could tell that he thought she was right. He would support her in her agonising decision, but he would not tell her to avoid it.
Wherever she went in the village she was met by smiling faces, inviting her to share their hope and joy. She smiled back and hurried on.
In the dairy she bought more milk and hurried out, hoping not to have to talk, but in the doorway she was stopped by an imposing figure.
"Mr. Daykers," she said. "Good morning."
"A word with you, Miss Colwell."
"I really am rather - "
"Kindly hear me out."
He stood in her path, sallow, domineering, with something brutal in his quiet manner.
"It is your future that I am here to discuss," he said.
"Once and for all, Mr. Daykers, I will not be your housekeeper."
"No, that would be ineligible. In view of this latest development I see that stronger measures are called for."
He took a deep breath and settled himself as though taking root in the ground.
"I offer myself to you in marriage."
"I - beg your pardon?"
"It must be clear to you that you can no longer remain in that house when a - ah - happy event has come to pass. Lord Lansdale knows his duty to the community, and you, I believe, are also conscious of your duty."
"You are very kind sir, but I have no desire for marriage."
"You do not know the world young woman. You are living in a disgraceful situation, and should quit it without delay. Only an immediate marriage will rescue your reputation, and it is highly unlikely that you will ever find another man ready to sacrifice himself."
"You must excuse me, sir," she said breathlessly, "I have to go. I thank you for your offer but regret it is quite out of my power to accept it. Please stand aside."
W
hen he remained before her she dodged round him and began to run. She ran and ran until she was out of sight, hidden in the woods on John's land.
There she stopped, leaning against a tree, gasping.
This was it. This was now the choice that life would offer her. After knowing the glory of John's love she was told she had no option but to become the wife of this pompous bully.
She must turn away from the only happiness she would ever know, and settle for a bitter, mean marriage to a man she could never like.
She could and would refuse to marry Steven Daykers, but without the man she loved all other choices would be equally wretched. And this would be her life, unless Adolphus could find a miracle.
But she no longer had faith in miracles.
Burying her face in her hands she slid slowly down the tree until she was on the ground, and sat there in a huddle while she sobbed and sobbed.
CHAPTER TEN
As Rena made her way to the house she became aware of a commotion going on. From inside came whoops of glee, laughter, triumph.
Then John came flying out.
"Rena," he called, waving and running to her.
"What's happened?" she asked as he whirled her around.
"Adolphus has made an incredible discovery. You remember that leather purse that we found under the cross?"
"The one that contained the last two coins, yes?"
"There was something else in it. A piece of paper. It's a riddle, a clue to the other twenty three coins. Adolphus thinks they're somewhere in the house and if we can find them - "
"Oh John, John can it really be true?"
"It has to be true. Don't you see, this is the miracle he spoke of. Come on."
He seized her hand and they ran back together.
Adolphus and Cecil were both hard at work in the picture gallery, covered in dust but cheerful and determined. Adolphus showed her the paper they had found.
"The leather has kept it in good condition," he said, "so it's still readable."
"Only to you," John said good humouredly. "It takes a scholar to read this."
"It must date from hundreds of years ago," Rena agreed. "That isn't modern English."
Adolphus nodded. "Written about the time of King Charles II, I would say."
"And there's something about a King here." She was squinting at the paper. "What does it mean?"
"They were the King's coins, and the rest are to be found in some part of the house that is connected with him," said John. "So we started with the gallery because there are several portraits here of Charles II, and a couple where he appears with the family."
"So far we haven't been lucky," said Adolphus. "The coins aren't hidden behind them or anything. But we're not giving up."
To be on the verge of success and yet have it keep elusively out of reach made Rena feel giddy.
She fixed her eyes on one of the portraits that Adolphus showed her. It showed the king, still a young man, probably soon after his accession to the throne, sitting beside a window, gazing out onto a country scene. In his hands he held some gold coins.
"Would they be the coins that we are looking for?" she asked.
"Quite possibly," said Adolphus.
"Then perhaps we should be looking in the room depicted behind him," she said excitedly. "I know which one it is. I recognise the view. I've been going through the house recently and there's only one bedroom that shows you the land from exactly that angle. It was probably where the king slept when he stayed here."
"Can you take us to it?" asked John.
They followed her out into the hall and up the stairs. Then, to her horror, she found that her mind went blank. Suddenly all rooms and all corridors seemed alike.
"I can't remember," she whispered. "It's like being in a maze."
"Calmly now," Adolphus said, taking her hands. "You are overwrought and that has confused your mind. The memory will return in a moment."
"Yes, yes," she said in relief as the jumble in her head began to sort itself out. "It's along here."
At the end of a long corridor they found the room. It was dirty and tattered, but at one time it must have been glorious. In the centre stood a huge four poster bed, its hangings crumbling, its decorations almost obscured by grime.
But one thing was still clear, the great crest that proclaimed that this bed was for the use of King Charles II. This had been his room, and of all rooms, surely it was the one most likely to hide the treasure they sought? They began going through drawers and chests, looking for concealed cupboards behind hangings.
"But I fear it won't be hidden as obviously as that," said Adolphus. "We shall have to be subtle. What was that noise?"
They all listened and could hear the sound of carriage wheels, then Wyngate's ugly voice barking instructions.
"Has he dared - ?" John breathed.
"Of course," said Adolphus "Go down to him and distract his attention. Rena, you go down too. At all costs he must suspect nothing."
There was no choice but to do as he said. Together they descended the stairs to find the hallway a scene of chaos.
In the centre stood Wyngate and Matilda. Around them swarmed workmen, hurrying here and there, inspecting, grimacing at what they found.
"What is this?" John demanded.
Wyngate gave him a sour smile.
"I thought it was time to make a start."
"A start which I have not authorised," said John angrily.
"Come now, we know you're only playing games. You need what I have, and it's no use pretending otherwise. This work has to be done, and now is as good a time as any."
John's hands clenched at his side. In another moment he would have thrown Wyngate out bodily, but Rena's gentle touch made him stop and remember Adolphus' advice.
"Miss Wyngate," Rena said, stepping forward, "how nice to see you. Why don't you come with me and - ?"
Still talking she led Matilda away up the stairs.
"Is Cecil still here?" she whispered when they were a safe distance.
"Yes, I'm taking you to him. And somebody else is here. Your grandfather."
"I have no grandfather."
"But you have, and he is longing to see you."
They had reached the king's room and Rena threw open the door. Adolphus was studying a small cupboard. He looked up at the sound.
Then he became very still.
Tears began to pour down his face.
"Jane," he whispered. "My Jane."
"Jane was his wife," said Rena. "You look like your grandmother."
"You're the man I saw all those years ago," Matilda said suddenly. "I thought you were my father's ghost - you look so alike."
"No ghost, my dear," said Adolphus. "Just a man who had just discovered that he had a grandchild. I have always wanted to meet you properly." Tears still coursed down his cheeks, but he was smiling through them.
Matilda gave a little gasp and ran into his arms. She too was weeping with joy.
"Grandfather, Grandfather," she cried.
He looked tenderly down at her face. "I thought you had something of the look of Jane, all those years ago," he said. "But you were a child, and it wasn't very clear. But now, it is like seeing my darling again."
"Papa always says I'm nothing to look at."
"You are beautiful," said Adolphus. "Cecil and I agree on that."
Now Matilda saw Cecil, watching them. Adolphus smiled as they hugged each other, and said, "I congratulate you on your choice of husband. He is an excellent young man."
"Oh Grandpapa, will you help us?"
"With all my heart. But first we must conclude our search of the house." "There are some old coins hidden somewhere in the house," explained Rena. "They used to belong to Charles II."
"Then surely they'll be in his chapel?" said Matilda.
Everyone stared at her.
"The King's Chapel," she added.
"There is no King's Chapel here," said Rena. "It's just an ordinary chapel."
&n
bsp; "Well, there was this waiter who served Papa and me in the hotel last night. He was ever so old and he said he used to work here when he was a boy. According to him the family always called it the King's Chapel, because of Charles II. He made it sound like a big secret, a name that only the family used, because the 'lower orders' weren't good enough. So if the place has been empty for years I suppose nobody would know."
"Sweet heaven, is it possible?" exclaimed Adolphus. Some footsteps in the corridor made them all alert, but it was only John.
"I've left Mr. Wyngate barking orders to workmen," he said. "He's perfectly happy as long as nobody contradicts him, so I thought I'd slip away for a moment. Has anybody found anything."
Swiftly Rena explained about the King's Chapel.
"What marvellous luck if it's true," said John. "Let's go and find out. But we'll have to be careful. Wyngate mustn't see you, Adolphus, or Cecil. I'll go back and draw him off."
It went against the grain with him but he managed to smile as he returned to where Wyngate was still in the hall, giving orders to a thick set man.
"This is Simpkins, the architect I've employed," he said.
John suppressed a wince and held out his hand to Simpkins. "Delighted to meet you sir. We must have some discussions about what you're going to do in my house." He stressed 'my' very slightly.
Simpkins, a decent man, was beginning to sense that something wasn't quite right here. Wyngate had spoken as though the house was his. He looked uncertainly from one to the other.
"Are those plans you're holding?" asked John, indicating some scrolled papers Simpkins had in his hand.
"Yes, sir."
"Why don't we all look at them in the library?"
As he'd hoped, at this sign that he was being more 'reasonable' a self satisfied sneer settled over Wyngate's face, and he made no protest at being led away to the library.
Now, John thought, the others had the chance to come downstairs and go to the chapel without being seen.
The plans were excellent, all but the tower. If only he could afford to do this work himself he would be glad to employ Simpkins.
If only….
His mind flew to the others in the chapel, searching, searching, everyone's fate depending on it.
He forced himself to concentrate.
The Cross of Love Page 12
