Page 229 of Feathers in the Wind
He nodded and knelt beside it, ran his hands over the familiar surface. He touched the ornate padlock. ‘We don’t have the key.’
‘Then we’ll have to break the lock,’ Alan said, hefting the crowbar in a helpful manner.
‘No.’ Nat shook his head. ‘No need. I know where the key is.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
He gestured at my cabinet of treasures. ‘It’s in there.’
He crossed to the cabinet, opened the glass door and lifted out a small, rusty, ornate key with the decorative fretwork and held it up.
‘I recognized it on the first day and wondered about it. Now I know why it is here. Where did you find it?’
‘One of the builders found it tucked behind a loose brick in the chimney,’ I said. ‘I just added it to the collection.’
Of course, a rusty key in a rusty lock did not turn, and Alan had to go in search of the can of lubricant. He liberally sprayed both key and lock, and after much cursing and grunting the lock yielded.
Alan and I stood back. This moment belonged to Nat.
With infinite care, Nat put his hands on the lid and lifted it to reveal the contents.
I had been expecting it to contain one particular package but he lifted out two rectangular objects wrapped in soft leather cloths. He carried them to the table and unwrapped the first to reveal Dame Alice’s receipt book. He looked at me with a quizzical expression and a raised eyebrow. I shrugged.
We all held our breath as the second wrapping came away and Nat lifted up the book of Leonardo’s drawings. He closed his eyes, as if breathing in the smell of the leather.
‘I never thought to see this again,’ he said.
‘It’s not for you to keep,’ I said. ‘Nat, this book is worth millions of pounds. It has been left to provide you and Christian with the money you need to live in this world.’
Alan sputtered. ‘It’s an original?’
I nodded.
Nat set the book on the table and laid his hand on it for a long moment before he looked at me. ‘Did you and my grandmother dream this up?’
‘She asked me how best to provide for you and I told her it was this book.’
‘But surely gold or silver--’
‘No, Nathaniel, your future is in that book.’
‘But who would purchase it?’
‘Museums, collectors. You have no idea what it is worth. But how do we sell it?’ Alan said.
‘Its provenance is there in the flyleaf.’ I opened the book to reveal the Preston coat of arms and the words Property of Nathaniel Preston, Esq of Heatherhill Hall. Oct 1631.
I looked from one to the other. ‘It will have to be verified by experts but it clearly forms part of the Preston family estate. The Colonel will help us. He can put it up for auction.’
‘Millions of pounds?’ Nat looked at me, as if the concept had only just occurred to him. ‘This book is worth that much?’
‘More than enough for you and Christian to live comfortably.’
He ran a hand across his eyes before looking up at us. I felt a thrill of apprehension run down my spine. In my mind, I had planned a life with Nat and Christian. I earned enough to keep us while Nat did some sort of study that would enable him to get a job. Now the dynamic had changed. Nat could afford a home for himself and Christian, and live their lives—a life that did not rely on me.
Nat’s gaze met mine and I wondered if my fear could be read on my face.
‘It’s real?’ Alan’s expression was a picture of disbelief as he crossed to the table. His eyes bulged and his mouth hung open as he turned the pages.
