Page 35 of Christmas All the Way

Keeley shook her head. ‘I haven’t told anyone, apart from you. And obviously Xander knows, but he agreed that we’d keep the discovery to ourselves until we’re sure of what we have.’

Grace eyed the box on her lap. ‘You’ll need to get it properly authenticated. I’ve got a friend at English History who can probably help with that.’ She looked at Keeley again. ‘But if it does turn out to be Eliza’s…’

‘I know,’ Keeley said, grinning. ‘It’s going to be huge. Bigger than the Brontës, maybe even bigger than Austen. I haven’t the faintest idea why it was never published, or why it was locked away in a secret drawer, but Eliza Norton is finally going to get the fame she deserves and I am very much here for it.’

‘There’ll be an auction,’ Grace predicted. ‘A genuine Victorian Christmas novel hidden in a secret compartment for a hundred and seventy-odd years? It’ll go for thousands. Maybe even hundreds of thousands.’

Keeley held up a hand. ‘Let’s not get carried away. We need to be sure it’s really hers before we start counting the income it will generate for the estate.’

‘Of course,’ Grace allowed. ‘But I think you might finally be able to spend a bit more money on restoring the cottage.’

A faraway look gleamed in Keeley’s eyes. ‘I hope so. I’ve always wanted to develop the stable block into classrooms so we can work with schools.’

‘It’s going to happen,’ Grace said. ‘I can feel it. Eliza Norton is about to become a global sensation and you’re going to be the one who made it happen!’ She paused and raised her eyebrows. ‘But I do have one important question and I want you to give your answer very careful consideration.’

‘Oh?’ Keeley replied, some of her excitement ebbing away. ‘What’s that?’

Grace rolled her eyes. ‘How soon can I read it, of course!’

CHAPTER ELEVEN

‘For such a man as that, I would risk a great deal more than my reputation.’

The Last Rays of the Sun, ELIZA NORTON

Monday mornings were usually dedicated to admin, when Keeley dealt with any issues that had arisen over the weekend and wrestled with the mountain of paperwork that running Juniper Cottage generated. She had earmarked this particular Monday for informal interviews with the volunteers who had applied to be tour guides, and had been impressed by the work they had put in. Keeley had asked them to prepare and deliver a mini-presentation in the library, to allow her to assess both their knowledge and performance style; Jenny and Marco had both impressed, as she’d anticipated they would, and Isobel had taken her recommendations on board to soften her approach, revealing a much warmer side to her personality than had been evident from her original application. The final presentation of the morning had been from Elspeth, and while Keeley could see she had removed some of the wilder allegations about Eliza’s romantic history, her proposed subject matter meant she stood out from the other three candidates for all the wrong reasons.

‘It’s certainly a rich topic,’ Keeley said, when Elspeth finished talking and regarded her with an expression of hopeful anticipation. ‘I’m not sure there’s much in the way of evidence to support a torrid affair with the village blacksmith. He does crop up in Eliza’s diaries, generally in connection to one of her horses, but I don’t recall anything that suggests she admired him.’

Elspeth’s eyes widened. ‘What about Gryff Morgan in The Last Rays of the Sun?’

Keeley frowned, mentally flicking through the cast of characters in the novel Elspeth was referring to. ‘The Welshman who works for Lord Bedford?’

‘Yes,’ Elspeth replied impatiently. ‘He’s a blacksmith, with the initials GM. I did some digging and the blacksmith here in Freezy Tye was originally from Swansea. His name was Geraint Morris.’

‘So Eliza used a real-life person as inspiration,’ Keeley said. ‘We know from her letters to her sister that she wasn’t above borrowing character traits and even names from the people she met.’

‘But listen to the way she describes him, when Lucy Pennyworth first secretly observes him in her guardian’s stable yard.’ Pulling a battered paperback from her bag, Elspeth flipped hurriedly through the pages and cleared her throat. ‘He was broad-chested, sturdy as an oak and every inch as mighty, as his hammer rose and fell upon the molten metal. At times, he paused his labours to inspect his work, or turn to comfort the horse for whom he toiled, before raising the hammer afresh. Behind the protection of the wall, Lucy felt she need not restrain her unseemly admiration. There was no doubt he was a brute – quite unlike the refined, indolent gentlemen she had met in Lord Bedford’s company – but the whispered words to the unsettled horse suggested a gentle aspect to temper his strength. Indeed, it was this tenderness that fascinated her the most, rather than his straining muscles and sweat-slicked mane of dark hair. He was a stallion, she decided, wild and unbroken and magnificent.’ Elspeth looked up, pink-cheeked and breathless as though she had been ogling the blacksmith for herself. ‘If that isn’t a love letter to Geraint Morris, I don’t know what is.’

‘I can see your point,’ Keeley said. ‘But that description is only there as a literary device. It does represent Lucy’s sexual awakening, which is why the scene drips with lust by Victorian standards, but Eliza also uses it to foreshadow Lucy’s rejection of Mr Horton later on. When she eventually accepts Lord Trelawney, who is not a gentleman in the eyes of her guardian, it is because she understands that gentleness in a man only makes him stronger.’

Elspeth raised her chin stubbornly. ‘Can’t it be both? A love letter and a literary device? She calls him a stallion, for goodness’ sake.’

Keeley couldn’t help laughing. ‘Okay, you might be onto something. It’s been a long time since I read The Last Rays of the Sun. You’ve made me want to revisit it, if only to enjoy Gryff Morgan’s rippling muscles all over again.’ She paused, her amusement ebbing away. ‘Unfortunately, I’m not sure an exploration of Eliza’s personal life will set the right tone for our Christmas tours.’

‘Ah,’ Elspeth said, biting her lip in obvious disappointment. ‘I see.’

‘But it might be something we could revisit in the spring,’ Keeley went on. ‘As a stand-alone talk. You’ve clearly done a lot of research and I think there could be an audience for a speculative exploration of Eliza’s life. What do you think?’

Elspeth’s face brightened. ‘Do you mean it?’

‘Of course,’ Keeley nodded. ‘We’d need to run it by the trustees, but I think they could be persuaded, especially if Xander thinks it would work.’

Now Elspeth’s eyes became saucers. ‘Oh yes, I feel sure he’d be on board.’

For a moment, Keeley regretted dragging him into Elspeth’s already fevered thoughts but the regret quickly melted away. Apart from anything else, she suspected he was going to love the idea. ‘I’ll mention it next time I speak to him,’ she promised. ‘How do you feel about taking on a front of house role for the tours? We’ll need someone to greet people, check tickets, that kind of thing? I appreciate it’s not quite the same as being a guide but it is a vital role.’

‘Front of house,’ Elspeth mused, her gaze narrowing. ‘That might work. Can I wear a maid’s outfit?’