Victoria Holt - The House of a Thousand Lanterns

“Happy Christmas,” I said. She woke up suddenly and smiled at me and then she put her hand on her pillow. It was as though she were trying to hide something.

I was puzzled but soon she was smiling and I was so excited because it was Christmas morning that I forgot the incident.

Later when we talked about my future she thought it was an excellent idea for me to speed up my schooling.

“The sooner you begin with Mr. Sylvester Milner the better,” she said.

But Mr. Sylvester Milner thought I should complete my education and it was not until I came home for the summer term in July that I left school forever. I was still only seventeen and would be eighteen in the following September. My duties with Mr. Sylvester Milner had begun.

I was completely absorbed. Each morning I would spend an hour with him when he would dictate letters which I would write out for him. I had developed a good copperplate style for this purpose. I took a great pride in being able to spell the names of the various dynasties without asking him, and as my knowledge increased the more interesting everything became.

Once he showed me a beautiful vase he had acquired and asked me to place it. I was about three hundred years out but he was pleased with me. “You have much to learn, Miss Jane,” he said, “but you are overcoming that obstacle of ignorance.”

I began to learn something not only of the Art of the Chinese and their history but of Mr. Sylvester Milner too. He had been the eldest of three brothers; they had all been involved in their fathers business, although the youngest of them, Magnus, had had little inclination for it.

“It’s not a profession one can follow with success unless there is complete dedication,” explained Mr. Milner. “I and my brother Redmond had that dedication, but we found it difficult to work together. There was so much that we could not agree on and after my father died, we separated. Redmond died of a heart attack quite recently, but he has a son, Adam, who continues with his business. In a way we are business rivals.” Mr. Milner looked regretful. “Adam is a good worker and quite an authority on many aspects of the business—a serious young man, very different in temperament from his father. I have two nephews, Miss Lindsay—Adam and Joliffe.”

“Are they brothers?”

“No. Joliffe is the son of my youngest brother, Magnus. Magnus married a young actress. He tried to join in her profession but without much success. Nothing Magnus did was ever very successful. He and his wife were killed together when the horses drawing a carriage which he was driving ran amuck. Joliffe was only eight years old at the time. Now he is another of my business rivals.” He sighed, “Ah, Joliffe!” he went on. I waited to hear more but he seemed to have decided that he had told me enough.

Mrs. Couch mentioned Joliffe one day. She sat in her rocking chair and said: “Oh, that Joliffe. There’s a one for you.”

Her eyes sparkled and she became almost coy. “‘My goodness Master Joliffe,’ I said to him, ‘you don’t think you’re going to get round me like you do the young ladies, do you?’ And he came back at me, ‘Well, you are a young lady at heart, Mrs. Couch.’ Saucy! Never without his answer!”

“He comes here then?”

“Yes, now and then. Unannounced. Mr. Sylvester Milner don’t like it. He’s what you’d call a precise gentleman. Of course, being his brother’s son, like, he looks on this as his home… one of them anyway.”

Jess dimpled when she spoke of Mr. Joliffe. “You’d go a long way for him,” she confided. And when his name was mentioned Mr. Jeffers looked a little scornful and muttered something about women who didn’t know a rake when they saw one.

Amy said that Mr. Joliffe was not quite what you’d call handsome but when he was there you hardly ever looked at anyone else—not even them that had spoken for you. It was something in him, but you had to be careful.

Even my mother’s face softened when she spoke of him. Yes, he had visited the house. He was a very charming young man and she had enjoyed looking after him on the occasions when he had come. He never stayed long though. He was restless. He rode a lot and was always on the go. She thought that since Mr. Milner had no children of his own he might be thinking of making his nephew his heir.

Mr. Sylvester Milner did mention Joliffe once or twice to me after that first time and I sensed that he did not share the opinion of the ladies.

Joliffe it seemed had a natural instinct for detecting works of Art. All the same Mr. Milner shook his head so that I knew Joliffe did not have his entire approval.

“It was my father’s desire that I and my brothers should work together. Then we should have controlled a very large part of the market. And now there are three of us, rival firms, instead of working in unison. It must be that I am not an easy person to work with.”

“I have not found that so.”

He smiled at me well pleased. “Ah, but you, my dear Miss Jane, are in a different capacity. Both Adam and Joliffe wanted to hold the reins. That was something I couldn’t allow.”

There was a great deal I should have liked to know about Mr. Milner’s family, but once he had told me of the existence of these relatives he became rather secretive and I realized that he had told me what he had because it was in a sense connected with the business. He talked far more about Chinese Art and what had been produced in the various dynasties.

Often he would hear of some precious object which someone wished to sell and he would travel to wherever it was. He went all over the country to see such things.

Once he came back in a state of great excitement because he believed he had made a great discovery.

He sent for tea and I presided over the dragon teapot while he told me why he was so excited.

“I have found another Kuan Yin. You remember the goddess of mercy and compassion. It is a beautiful piece, not large. It may well be that for which my father was searching. Though I believe that particular one was never allowed to go out of China. Yet… I cannot be sure.”

“You have one already, in the showroom.”

He nodded. “A beautiful piece but alas not the Kuan Yin. This is an image of the goddess which was made by a great artist during the Sung Dynasty. This began about nine hundred years ago. It was created at the time of great strife when civil war and bloodshed were the curse of China. Emperor Sung-kaou-tsoo was a man of many gifts; but he used these to subdue the vassal Tartars and in the battles which followed millions died. Because this was a time of great suffering the people appealed to the goddess Kuan Yin who was said to hear every cry of sorrow and distress. There is a legend that the goddess inspired the creator of this image and that she herself lives in it. Not only is it the most beautiful piece ever seen but it has a mystical quality. It is every collector’s dream to find the Sung Kuan Yin.”

“You think you have found it?”

He smiled at my enthusiasm. “My dear Miss Jane, four times I have hoped I found her. I have discovered the most beautiful Kuan Yins and when I have handled them I have said to myself: ‘This is she. There could not be another so beautiful.’ But each time I have been proved wrong. That piece you have seen is indeed a fine specimen. That is why I have kept it. But it is, alas, not the Kuan Yin for which we all search.”

“How shall you know her when you find her?”

“When I find her! I should be the most fortunate man in my profession if I ever did so.”

“And this new one…?”

“I dare not hope too much, for my disappointment would be so great. So I try to calm myself.”