Araminta takes the box back. The text is so tiny it might be taken for a hallmark. ‘Follow her to the grave.’ She reads out loud.
‘So, a woman on a wall, that we must follow to her death,’ Winifred reasons, her tone businesslike. ‘Someone Berenice knew of, who had already died by 1746. How intriguing.’
‘You’ve no idea who it might be?’ asks Araminta.
Winifred shakes her head and Araminta lets out a sigh. This will necessitate another late night. ‘I’ll search in Aunt Eilidh’s library,’ Araminta says. ‘Tomorrow I can return to the house and see if anything strikes me.’
‘Good.’ Winifred gets to her feet.
‘You’re going?’
Winifred is not. She meant to see the girl out. ‘Do you wish to stay?’ the nun enquires.
Araminta nods. She’s made a joke of the old nun’s historical stories, but she’s enjoyed learning about her family. Discussing nothing but their investigation feels unsatisfying now. She pauses, forming a question.
‘The Thoms,’ she says. ‘They’ve pursued us over generations, you said?’
Winifred sits down again. She doesn’t want to frighten the girl by admitting her and Eleanor’s narrow escape from Harry Thom earlier today. History is somehow easier to talk about. ‘They’ve sought us since Berenice’s lifetime,’ she confirms. ‘The Jacobite uprisings brought a redcoat army to Scotland and a brace of spies. It was only then they realised we had something; almost exactly at the time we lost the treasure or, rather, Berenice hid it.’
‘Do you know what the crown looks like?’
Winifred’s blue eyes sparkle. ‘I’ve never seen it. No one now living has. But my mother held it once, as a child. She said it was heavy. Golden. Many precious gemstones and large pearls.Berenice told her it was made of Scotland. Pearls from our shores are rare. Gold is mined near Crianlarich. I always hoped the stones were emeralds but they could be ruby or diamond or sapphire, I suppose. Our people traded widely in the old days.’
‘Cairngorm, perhaps,’ Araminta interrupts. ‘It sounds beautiful.’
Winifred takes up the soft lead lying on the desk and doodles a crown on a scrap of paper. It looks like something from a fairy tale. Jewel-encrusted and ornate.
‘I hadn’t thought it so... tall,’ Araminta says, realising that this piece is more decorative than the honours she saw at the castle; more ornate even than King William’s crown in London, which she’s seen only in a painting. Her assumption was the McKenzie women would have something of less importance in their possession, and now she can’t reason why. Perhaps she considered a queen less important than a king or maybe in her mind it was Scotland that was of less import. ‘Do you think we’ll find it?’ she asks.
Winifred puts down the lead. ‘We’re closer than we’ve been in almost a century,’ she says. ‘My mother said the crown bespeaks a true treasure. A gem for womankind.’
‘I wonder what she meant by that?’
Both women are startled by the sound of a knock on the door. Sister Winifred hurriedly sets light to the drawing she’s made. Araminta stows the box in her pocket. The nun gestures towards the hallway, sending her niece ahead.
‘Who is it?’ Araminta calls, her fingers on the door handle.
‘Davey, ma’am,’ a voice announces. ‘I hoped to see you.’
‘It’s the carriage man,’ Araminta whispers. ‘He must’ve followed me.’ The women lock eyes. Winifred motions as if to say that opening the door is a risk worth taking. Then, thinking again, she puts up a hand and swaps places with her great niece. ‘If there’s trouble, I’ll hold him off. Run out the back door andreturn to the house,’ she instructs quietly, shooing Araminta to the far end of the hall.
Winifred pauses before opening the door. When it is indeed only Davey on the wide step, there’s a sense of relief.
‘Come in,’ Winifred motions. Davey doesn’t enquire as to who the old woman is, nor does he make the connection with Thom’s probing about women in holy orders. Winifred looks like any of a hundred poor folk he sees about the town; plainly dressed and bare-headed.
‘Davey. How did you know I was here?’ Araminta asks.
Davey freezes. He followed the mistress for it’s common knowledge in the household now that she takes the air at ten of the clock. Hester and Agnes have both said so.
‘Ma’am’ – he gives a little bow – ‘I followed you. I come with news. The gentleman who tailed the carriage today. Mr Thom. I’m unsure if he trusts me any longer. He questioned me before I came round this morning and on my return. I wanted to inform you.’
‘What did he want?’
‘Something about you being on the south of the city this morning. I told him you hadn’t taken the carriage. I’m not sure he believed me.’
Winifred sighs audibly. ‘But he believes your mistress was there?’
‘Yes... miss.’ Davey bites his lip. He’s not sure how to address her.
