When Eleanor went back to Combemouth Manor a few days later, she found Joshua in a more positive frame of mind. She was barely through the door before he greeted her and took her into the sitting room. “Here now,” he said, handing her something wrapped in a plastic bag and sealed with rubber bands, “I have something for you.”
“Thank you,” she said, taking the bag and going to open it. “But really, you don’t need to give me a present.”
Joshua held up his hands. “Don’t open it here and give me no thanks. Take it away and never ask me anything about what’s in there. Is that clear?”
Eleanor’s head was full of questions, but the look on Joshua’s face told her he was serious so she went into the library to carry on with her work.
By teatime, the business of photographing the books had come to an end. Eleanor went outside to tell Joshua, who she found in the kitchen garden tying up the sweet peas. “I’m done,” she said. “The next step is for me to go online and find out the values for you. Then, when you’re ready, I can put the books up for sale – the ones you decide not to keep, that is.”
Joshua grumbled. “The sooner the whole lot is gone the better.”
“But there must be some you’d like to keep, to give to friends and family? I’m sure you have plenty of relatives who would be delighted to have these books.”
Ignoring her, Joshua scooped up Clarence and headed for the kitchen. “Teatime, Clarence.”
Realising this was to be Joshua’s last word on the subject, Eleanor shook her head sadly. “Well, I’ll be off then,” she shouted in the direction of Joshua’s retreating figure. “And thank you for the gift.”
* * *
When Eleanor arrived at the cottage, she found Daniel sitting on the sunny patio drinking tea with Malcolm who stood up to greet her.
“And how’s my favourite daughter-in-law today?” he asked, kissing her lightly on both cheeks. “I gather Joshua has been a little trying.”
“Oh, he’s not that bad. Just socially inept.” She smiled. “But all is forgiven because today he gave me a present.”
“Let me grab you a cup of tea, then you can tell us about it,” said Daniel, going into the kitchen to fetch Eleanor a drink.
“Hurry up,” she said, laughing, “I’m gasping.”
“I’m agog to find out what Joshua has given you,” said Malcolm.
“So am I! He told me I wasn’t allowed to open the bag until I was at home. It’s very mysterious.” She looked at her companions. “Ready?”
“We are,” said Daniel, handing her the tea. “Go for it.”
Eleanor put the package on the garden table then removed the rubber bands that were tightly wound around the plastic bag. Inside was a shoebox and inside that was her gift. “Oh! It’s the wooden box we found with the briefcase in the hidden cupboard.” She pulled each side without success. “I can’t figure out how to open it!”
“It looks like a Victorian tea caddy. May I see?”
“Be my guest, Malcolm,” she said, handing it over.
“It’s locked. Has Joshua given you the key?”
“I hope so.” Eleanor picked up the shoebox and noticed a slip of cardboard at the bottom. Picking it up, she saw there was a tiny key taped to one side which she handed to her father-in-law. “Phew, I nearly threw it away.”
Malcolm inserted the key, turned it and the top unlocked with a click. “Now what have we here?” Eleanor was straining to see. “As it’s yours, I think you should open it.”
Lifting the lid, Eleanor saw a small silk bag in a green and gold paisley pattern. She gently pulled apart the silk drawstring running around the top edge and looked inside the bag. “It’s a pendant.” She held up a silver oval dangling on a chain then ran a thumb over the raised image on the front. The engraving was shallow, making it hard to read, but it seemed to represent a man standing with a tall staff in his hand. “I wonder who the figure is?”
“I’d say it was a St Christopher,” said Daniel. “Patron saint of travellers.”
“Ah, what a thoughtful gift.” Eleanor was quite moved by it. “Perhaps Joshua chose it because he knew I’d travelled to Devon from London.”
“That’s assuming he knew the pendant was in there, darling.”
Malcolm had gone back to examining the wooden box. “I’ve done a little woodwork in my time and this is a very fine piece.” As a former engineer, he liked to know how things worked. “There must be a reason why the base is so deep. Aha,” he said, turning it over in his hands, “just as I thought. There’s another compartment. Do you have a pin, Eleanor?”
“There’ll be one in my needlework basket, I’m sure.”
Daniel smiled. “You have a needlework basket? I never knew that.”
“They say couples should have secrets from each other to retain the excitement. Anyway, I do, though I haven’t sewn anything in years. I’ll fetch it.”
Eleanor dashed upstairs, opened the drawer at the bottom of her wardrobe and extracted the faded yellow basket she’d had since secondary school. She carried it down to the patio, then dug around among the cotton reels, ribbons and odd buttons before eventually pulling out a stout pin. “Will this do?”
“Perfect.” Malcolm took the pin and prodded it into a hole that was carefully concealed in the side of the box. This released the side panel which then slid up and a drawer immediately sprang open to reveal a small envelope.
“Well, what do you know?” said Daniel. “I think you have a secret message!”
“How exciting.” Eleanor reached out to take the envelope then hesitated. “Actually, I think your father should do it. I’m so clumsy and I wouldn’t want to tear it.”
Malcolm gently lifted the envelope from the drawer and laid it on the table. “Are you sure you’d like me to open it?”
“Yes please.”
Peeling back the flap, Malcolm withdrew a sheet of paper that he carefully unfolded before handing it to Eleanor.
“What does it say?” asked Daniel.
Eleanor peered at the letters written in small, ornate handwriting. “I don’t have my reading glasses and the writing style is so old-fashioned I can’t make out all the words. It’s a poem of some description.” She screwed up her eyes, reading aloud. “‘Seeker… bosom… God.’ I’ll have to find someone to help me decipher it.”
“May I see?” asked Malcolm, putting on his glasses. “I’m old enough to decipher this kind of script.”
“Be my guest,” said Eleanor.
“Ah, yes. It’s a poem, but not one I recognise.” Malcolm slowly read out the words.
“Seeker bold, ye who travelled from afar
Think but on this –
Blessed is he who finds
Repose in the bosom of the
Everlasting Lord, which dwells on earth and in Heaven.
No more shall he breach the lusty waves but
Divine peace shall be his who
Abides in God’s tender care,
No more to fret upon life’s travails.”
Malcolm looked up. “Well, whoever wrote this was no Wordsworth but it’s competent enough.”
Eleanor took up the paper and studied it, rereading the verse. “It’s more like a prayer than a poem. I’d love to know who the poet was.”
“My guess is Joshua Pinkham,” said Daniel.
“Of course! What a clever husband I have!”
Malcolm patted his son on the shoulder. “That’s the obvious answer, Dan, but I wouldn’t be so sure. Joshua may be even more ancient than me, but the writing and the paper look much too old to be his work.”
Eleanor was silent, gazing unseeing at a pot of geraniums.
“What’s the matter, El?” asked Daniel. “You look very serious.”
“I was thinking that Joshua will probably bite my head off, but I have to return everything to him. The pendant and poem must be important heirlooms and they should stay in his family, not be given to me. I’m not sure I should have bought his Bible at the festival either, now I come to think of it.”
“If you hadn’t bought the Bible,” said Malcolm, thoughtfully, “Joshua might simply have thrown it away, which would have been much worse.”
“True, but I’m sure I’ve short-changed him – well, the vicar actually, because the money went into the church fund.”
“Why don’t you speak to Philip White before you visit Joshua?” said Daniel. “It might set your mind at rest about the Bible at least?”
Eleanor nodded. “Yes, I think will.”