Vivian Conroy - Rubies in the Roses

Guinevere tilted her head. ‘But if Wadencourt loved his Roman work so much, I don’t see why he changed to this missing objects business. It seems a lot less tangible and productive.’

‘Exactly. But there was less funding for what he wanted to do. He needed a boost to attract attention to his work. He wrote a bit about a coronet found at an abbey that might prove a lady from royal descent had taken vows as a nun there. He found a sponsor who wanted him to prove who she had been and he came up with a theory linking her to the Tudors. Some people believed him; others said he had made it all up, knowing it could never be proven either way. But it created waves for months.

‘Since then Wadencourt is always working that way, starting from an object that is mentioned in sources or has been recovered at some dig and then inventing a history for it. I call it inventing, because he can rarely support it with any real evidence. But people like the romanticism of it and gobble it up. He’s not a historian any more to my mind, but a storyteller like the brothers Grimm.’

‘And this wedding goblet he mentioned, do you have any idea what that is?’

Oliver shook his head. ‘No idea. But then Cornisea has featured in a lot of stories.’ He nodded at the book in her hand. ‘There might be something in there about it.’

‘I’ll have a look.’ Guinevere seated herself on a chair and opened the book. The pages crackled as if they were too dry. ‘I’d better be careful with this.’ She put the book on the table and opened it again, this time in the back. ‘Ah, there’s an index here. I can see if it mentions a wedding goblet.’

A clanging noise came from the corner. Dolly had overturned a stack of pans, the lids rolling away across the floor. ‘Don’t, girl,’ Guinevere called.

Oliver was already with her to get the lids back in place. He gave the dachshund a little shove to send her to Guinevere. ‘Go see what the book says about the goblet, huh.’

Dolly walked over and sat down at Guinevere’s feet, her head up, as if to listen to the story.

Chapter Two

Guinevere ran her finger down the entries under ‘w’ but saw no goblet. ‘Is everything known about Cornisea in this book?’

‘I have no idea. Probably not. The writer used his knowledge at the time the book went to print. Things might have changed afterwards. Or he might never had a full overview to begin with.’ Oliver straightened up and stretched. ‘How did you get your hands on that book anyway?’

‘Your father had put it out ready for cataloguing.’

‘Just this morning?’ Oliver froze mid-motion. The frown over his eyes told her he thought it unlikely that it had happened by coincidence.

‘Do you think your father knew that Wadencourt was coming?’ Guinevere asked.

‘If he did, he never mentioned it to me.’

Guinevere frowned. ‘His surprise when he spotted Wadencourt in the hallway seemed genuine.’

‘You never know with my father.’ Oliver opened a cupboard and took out a bread container. ‘I hate to think he’s playing along with Wadencourt, whatever that old fox is up to now, just because my father believes it can save Cornisea.’

‘Well, a major find here of some rare artefact would bring in more tourists.’

‘Yes, and people would ruin everything like that photographer chap suggested. Dig up the gardens … You know what happened when the historical society started suggesting that medieval scoundrel Branok had hidden a gold stash on the island.’

Guinevere stared down at the pages of the book in front of her. The recent events of murder and an excruciating investigation with wrongful accusations and painful revelations were still fresh in everybody’s mind. They had all hoped for some quiet time to recover.

Wadencourt’s appearance and his insistence there was going to be a publication involving Cornisea Castle had changed all of that.

She asked softly, ‘Do you still think about what happened?’

‘Nothing about a goblet in that book?’ Oliver said with emphasis. He turned his back on her and leaned on the sink, tension in his posture.

It hurt Guinevere that he was deliberately ignoring her question but then again they had only met when she had come out to catalogue for his father. Even though she had felt like they had struck up a friendship, Oliver might not feel the same way.

Or maybe his father was right and he missed his tigers. As a wildlife film-maker, Oliver travelled the world to record footage of animals on the brink of extinction or under serious threat from increasing human exploitation of their habitats. He probably wished he was in his hide waiting for some elephants to show up instead of here at Cornisea, where he was constantly at odds with his father about the castle’s future.

Guinevere turned to the G in the index. ‘Here’s a mention of a goblet, with the designation: of Rose and Stars.’

‘Sounds poetical. Look it up, will you?’ Breaking into motion again, as if he wanted to shake off his sudden sad mood, Oliver grabbed a chunk of cheese and made slices to put on the sandwiches. Dolly came over to him to wait if a bite was forthcoming. Oliver looked down at her and shook his head. Dolly tilted hers and squeaked. She was used to people finding her adorable and caving. But Oliver stayed firm and focused on the sandwiches.

Dolly yapped in indignation and returned to Guinevere, rubbing her head against her leg.

‘Let’s see what it says, girl.’ Guinevere leafed through the yellowing pages to find the number indicated in the index. A scent of dust and dampness rose into her nose. Maybe this book hadn’t been touched for decades. Excitement rushed through her at the idea there might be something interesting hidden between its fading covers. A revelation about an artefact actually here on Cornisea Island.

‘Here it is. The goblet of Rose and Stars. A bejewelled wedding goblet.’ She scanned the explanation to paraphrase for Oliver. ‘These goblets were made from silver and decorated with precious stones if the buyer could afford it. The buyer could be a land owner or a dignitary in a community.’

‘Or the lord of a castle,’ Oliver supplied, gesturing around him with the cheese rasp.

Guinevere nodded. ‘Probably. The goblets were used at wedding ceremonies where both the groom and the bride drank from the goblet to symbolize their new life together. The goblet was kept in the family, passed on from generation to generation. This particular one got the designation of Rose and Stars because it was decorated with both rubies and diamonds.’

Oliver whistled.

Dolly pricked her ears up as if she couldn’t wait to learn more about something so rare.

Guinevere read and paraphrased quickly, ‘It also had an engraved scene on a round emblem like part of the goblet depicting a couple drinking from a goblet. Its exact origins and age are unknown, but it’s taken to be medieval because of the clothing of the couple in the little scene. Oh, here – this is interesting.’

Oliver turned to her and leaned against the sink. ‘What?’

Guinevere ran her finger along the lines, taking in the detailed explanation before her. ‘The goblet is believed to have been stolen by a Lady Anne when she ran away from home to be with a man her parents didn’t approve of. They married, drank from the goblet, and then hid it somewhere in their keep.’

Oliver looked at her. ‘And that particular goblet is supposed to be hidden here? Why Cornisea? It could have been any keep. And Cornwall has a few.’

‘I know.’ Guinevere studied the piece in front of her. ‘It doesn’t give any specific details as to who the parties involved were or what keep was meant. It’s more like a fairy-tale story: once upon a time there was a priceless goblet and a lady ran away with it.’