Page 43 of Lord of Fortune
Chapter 8
The scentof polished wood and old paper filled Penn’s nose as they waited in the vestibule outside Carlton Burgess’s office at Oxford. Yesterday had been a long day of travel, and they’d arrived at Penn’s house rather late. After taking a small dinner, Amelia had gone directly to bed, her exhaustion overriding her initial protests about staying in his house.
He’d argued that she was a widow, chaperoned by a maid, and safe from his advances. Never mind that all three of those arguments were quite flimsy.
Not that hewouldmake an overture, such as a kiss. But he’d be damned if he wasn’t thinking about it.
They’d indulged their weariness and slept a bit late, and now here they were in the early afternoon awaiting their audience with the Keeper of the Ashmolean.
Burgess opened the door to his office and gave them a wide smile. “How delightful to have you back, Penn.” He turned his attention to Amelia. “And this must be Miss Gardiner.”
“Mrs. Forrest,” she corrected. “Thank you for seeing us.”
“Of course, of course. Come right in, please.” He stood to the side, presenting his profile, which included a rather pronounced belly. Burgess loved sweets and port to excessive degrees.
He closed the door once they were inside and gestured for them to join him in a seating area arranged in front of the fire. He moved to stand near the wingbacked chair, which Penn knew to be his preferred seat. In fact, Penn had never seen him sit anywhere else, and the chair reflected the wear to prove it.
Penn waited for Amelia to sit on the small settee before dropping down beside her. “We’d love to hear about how you came to know Mrs. Forrest’s grandfather. Would you mind sharing that story?” Penn knew he wouldn’t—Burgess loved to talk. In fact, Penn sometimes worried he would accidentally betray a secret. However, it was now apparent that Burgess was capable of protecting information over great periods of time. Penn was surprised, and pleasantly so.
“Not at all,” Burgess said with an enthusiastic grin. “Your grandfather and I were good friends for many years, Mrs. Forrest. He was an excellent transcriptionist—that was how I met him. As you know, he copied books from French, Latin, and Old English into modern English. While I was studying at Oxford, I took manuscripts to him for transcription. We shared a passion for medieval stories. And fine port.” He chuckled.
Amelia folded her hands in her lap. “It’s odd that we’ve never met before now.”
“It is, it is. I regret that I didn’t visit Jon in the last few years. I don’t travel much myself—terrible gout. But we did maintain our correspondence.”
“Yes, I know. I read many of your letters.” This didn’t surprise Penn, particularly if she was trying to learn about her grandfather and about Burgess. “Mr. Bowen gave me the letter my grandfather wrote to you in 1809. I would love to know why he trusted you with the location of the dagger and not me.”
Burgess’s jovial manner dimmed a bit. “He felt the knowledge could be dangerous. He didn’t even tell me until after he passed, you know. Not until you sent me his letter.”
Penn decided to cut right to the heart of the matter. “Did he think it was dangerous because of the Order?” He saw the flicker of caution in Burgess’s gaze. “She knows all about the Order. Gardiner mentioned it in his journal.” He turned his head toward Amelia. “What did it say again?”
Amelia glanced from Burgess to him before reciting the entry, “The Order will stop at nothing to find the treasures. Why? They proclaim they are protecting them, but there is something off. If only I’d been able to read the book. I feel certain it would provide the answers I seek.”
Burgess’s eyes widened briefly, and he lost a bit of his color.
“This was written after the heart was already in the museum,” Amelia said. “In 1754. I don’t know, however, if the dagger was in his possession.”
Burgess shook his head. “It was not. Are you aware of how he found the heart?”
Amelia was completely fixated on Burgess. “No, but I should like to know, if you can tell me.”
“Your grandfather was a bit obsessed with the tale of Ranulf and Hilaria. He was a student of medieval romances, but that one was his favorite, probably because it was so rare, I think. He became equally obsessed with the objects from their story: the heart and the dagger. Everyone told him they didn’t exist, but he believed they were real.” Burgess chuckled again, softly. “I don’t know what made him think that. I can only surmise that he was a terrible romantic. Is that true of the man you knew?”
Amelia’s lips curved into a slight smile. “It was.”
Burgess nodded as he continued, “Jon went to see the White Book of Hergest at Wynnstay. The family was kind enough to allow scholars into their library from time to time. The story was recorded into the White Book by Lewys Glyn Cothi. He studied at the St. John Priory at Carmarthen. Jon went there to learn more about him, and that’s where he found the heart.”
“Did he say how?” Penn asked. This interested him most since he was convinced Gardiner had found a fake. But he wasn’t going to tell Burgess that.
“He didn’t, and I did ask. Pity that secret died with him.”
For the first time, Penn wondered if it was possible that Gardiner had fabricated the heart that was sitting down the street in the museum. Why would he do that? Penn didn’t know much about the man, but he seemed a scholar and a man committed to finding these objects that had come to mean something to him. He wouldn’t have created fakes. It also seemed unlikely that he was aware theywerefakes. If Penn’s instincts were accurate.
“Have you any idea how he found the dagger?” Amelia asked.
“Now that is the strangest part,” Burgess said, punctuating the air with his index finger. “Someone from Carmarthen brought it to him. Jon was told someone was looking for it, and this person didn’t want it falling into the wrong hands. So he took it to Jon, knowing he’d found the heart years before. And before you ask, I’ve no idea who this person was. Jon never said.”
“When was this?” Amelia asked.
