1980
I sat in the library waiting for Andrew to join me for our assignment in the Charter Room. The more I’d thought about it, the more I realised how odd it was, not only that they’d asked me to do this, but that the family were all superstitious. In this day and age? Of course, we can all get a little spooked in the dark and maybe if I’d heard a voice whispering “He killed me” in the middle of a radio programme or in a dark room, I’d be a bit scared, but I wasn’t now. It was five o’clock and still light for several more hours so surely I wasn’t likely to find anything scary, even if I could open the so-called secret chamber. I’d been thinking about Bert Blair joking that Mr David wanted his cousin dead so he could inherit. But I decided I’d not mention that to Andrew; it didn’t seem right somehow.
I’d just come up from the staff dining room where the post is laid out and I was disappointed there wasn’t a letter for me from Dr Birkett. I’d written to her a couple of weeks ago asking if her friend Elspeth who was curator of Renaissance and Early Modern History at the National Museum could help. She’d mentioned how valuable her expertise had proved for some other students’ research. So I asked if anyone knew the whereabouts of the parure that had been given by Mary, Queen of Scots to Marie Seton and then to Lilias, Lady Fyvie. The last time it was seen in public had been on Grizel Seton’s neck.
I’d been keen to hear from her before this strange commission in the Charter Room as I was hoping she’d say that it was still being worn by a certain aristocratic family who’d inherited it over 276 the years. But there was nothing in today’s post. Dr Birkett was a kind person – strict as a tutor, she stood no nonsense, but she had each of her students’ best interests at heart.
“Shall we go then?” Andrew stood in the doorway, a large holdall in his hands. I got up and pointed at the bag.
“What on earth have you got in there? You thinking we might find a body or something?” I grinned.
“Not ‘we’, Maggie. ‘You’. You’re the one opening up the chamber and going in. I shall be staying in the safety of the Charter Room.”
“For God’s sake, Andrew, you don’t believe all that superstitious stuff, do you?”
“Not really, otherwise I wouldn’t have agreed to assist. But rather you than me going down there.”
“Why?”
“If what Mr David says is true, his uncle died soon after attempting to open it. And his aunt went mad.”
“Dementia affects a lot of old people, she didn’t go mad because of that.”
“She wasn’t that old. His uncle was seventy when he died, but his aunt was only in her sixties.” He shrugged.
We pushed open the heavy wooden door and Andrew placed his bag on the flagstone floor. “Have you got a torch?”
I brandished my mum’s little torch as I headed for the far corner. “So we know it’s this side of the window?”
“Yes, pull that section of panelling open,” he said, sitting on a chair, pointing, as if he was the gaffer overseeing work on a building site.
“What sort of tools have you got in that bag, then?”
“I’ve got screwdrivers and chisels in various sizes, a hook pick and a bolt cutter.”
He opened the bag and pushed it across the floor towards me.
“How on earth have you got all this?” 277
“They’re not mine, they belong to the caretaker.”
“Old Sandy?”
“Yes. He refuses to have anything to do with this as he’s been with the family for decades and thinks the curse is real too.”
I shook my head. “Honestly, it’s just ridiculous.”
I turned round and pulled out the panelling nearest the window. It folded back on itself to reveal a small wooden door, set deep in the old stone.
“There’s a door handle. What are the chances of this actually opening first time?”
“Slim,” Andrew muttered, coming to stand behind me.
I tried to turn it, but it wouldn’t budge in either direction. “There’s a keyhole here. Presume no one’s thought to try a key?”
“Sandy gave me this massive bunch of keys, so you can try all of them, Maggie. If not, you’ll have to try the lock pick.”
He handed me a heavy ring of ancient looking iron keys and one by one, I tried to insert each in the lock. After trying about ten, I took one smaller one and it at least fitted in the hole.
“Oh, this might be it,” I said, crouching down. “Can you take it off this massive ring? It’s all too awkward.”
Andrew grabbed a pair of pliers from the bag and removed it from the ring.
I held my breath as I pushed the key in and turned. I heard a slight click and leant in as I continued to turn. “Yes!” I said. “It’s opening.”
Andrew stood behind me holding the rest of the keys. I swatted him away with my hand. “Move out of the way, Andrew. You’re blocking the light.” I was also feeling rather nauseous when he stood too close, with the overwhelming smell of his aftershave.
As the small door creaked inwards, a dark void appeared. I took the torch out of my pocket and shone it inside, but was able to see very little. 278
I could hear Andrew raking in his bag and he prodded me in the back and held out a head torch. “Put that on,” he said, flicking its switch.
“You’ve thought of everything, Andrew!”
I secured it around my forehead and looked inside again. There were some stone steps, but unlike the stone in the Great Stair these didn’t look worn down by centuries of treading feet. It was obvious people had seldom come in here. I stood on the first step, then took a deep breath. There was something musty and stale in the air. Hopefully this was just the lack of fresh air over the years, not anything dead, I thought, as I crouched down and stepped down onto the second stair. The ceiling above was low, so I had to stoop as I climbed down the next two steps and then onto a floor.
“Think I’m in the chamber, Andrew,” I hissed.
There was silence.
“Andrew!” I shouted, this time a tiny panic in my voice as I realised that if the door closed, I could easily be shut in here forever, sealed in like a mummy.
“Sorry, I was trying to find another torch in the bag.”
I had never been so glad to detect the whiff of Old Spice in the air. He laid a large hand torch on the top step. I reached up for it, banging my head on the ceiling, and shone it around. This was a small chamber, where someone could hide or be hidden. Was it one of those priest holes where a Catholic priest had to hide? I looked all around, now I could see better in the gloom. There was nothing there, just cold, stone emptiness. I reached out to my sides and touched the walls, which were icy cold, then I touched the wall in front and found that it was warm.
“Andrew, what’s beneath this?”
“The little sitting room beside the butler’s pantry.”
“This wall’s warm. How’s that possible?”
“Must be the chimney down there. Though I’ve certainly never 279 seen the fire lit. Anything else down there?”
“Not a thing.” I shone my torch behind me to the stairs. “Oh no, hang on, there’s some kind of small chest here. I’ll see if I can hand it up to you.”
“I’m not opening it.”
I sighed. “I’ll come up and do it. There’s nothing else to see down here.”
I hunched down as I climbed up the steps then sat on the floor in front of the old box. “Let me guess, that’ll be locked too,” I said, peering at the tiny lock. But then when I held both sides of the dark wooden lid and lifted, it opened. I looked inside and picked up a yellowed piece of parchment. I turned it over and peered at the ancient script.
“Does that say Banff?”
Andrew looked down at the old paper. “Looks like it – and here I think it says William Reid, Silversmith.”
“What d’you think used to be in here, then? It’s too big a box for a necklace, so it can’t be that. Oh, when I was at the church I heard there was a really precious silver communion cup. This could be its box?”
“Yes, but why is it not kept in the box?”
“True. Well, anyway, at least there’s no skeleton down here.”
“Nor rats,” said Andrew, wincing.
“Just an empty old box. Should I put it back?”
“Nothing else in there then?”
I thrust my hand into the dark wooden box and felt something smooth and soft. I pulled out a small black velvet bag with ancient drawstrings, which I pulled open. I slid two fingers in and felt something hard.
“There’s something in here,” I said, pulling out a ring, which I held up to the light.
“Let’s have a look,” Andrew said, pulling my hand towards him. 280 “That looks really old. Is that a ruby, d’you reckon?”
“I think so.” I lifted it to the light and stared at it. “Well, this certainly isn’t anything to do with the parure as that’s a necklace, earrings and brooch. So I wonder where on earth this ring fits in.”
Andrew shrugged. “You going to put the box back?”
I frowned. “Think so. It seems as if it’s nothing to do with the ring, which I’ll give to Mr David when he comes back.”
Andrew nodded and I went down the steps and replaced the box where I’d found it, then came back up.
“Well, that wasn’t what we’d expected.”
Andrew shook his head. “No, but it’s still quite a find. The ring looks really old.”
“True, I wonder if it’s a family heirloom that had been forgotten about.” I smiled. “At least I wasn’t struck dead when I opened the chamber.”
“I wouldn’t speak too soon. We don’t know if the curse is still to work.” Andrew raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Right, hand me that key again, I’ll lock the door.”
As I turned the key slowly in the lock, all of a sudden a feeling of sadness came over me, a crushing sense of melancholy. It was as if by opening the chamber, I had unleashed some heartache from the past.