Gene of Isis

‘Someone is coming,’ Susan called back to me.

I was out of time, and although I wanted to hear his explanation, if I agreed to his terms I could ask him later. I find our arrangement most agreeable, friend. I would be honoured to be your pupil.

The knight smiled, pleased with my commitment. Then use your stone to summon me forth at your leisure, and the name to which I will answer is Albray.

I nodded.

But I would advise you not to bother trying to summon a fairy with the stone, for one of the fey is already attached.

Really? And that entity’s name is?

Ashlee Granville.

Pardon?

He chuckled at my bemusement as he faded from my sight.

‘Ashlee? Did you hear me?’

‘Yes, I heard.’ I was perplexed and annoyed. It seemed that I never had enough time to pursue investigations that were truly interesting and worthy of consideration. ‘I’m done.’ I quickly obscured the circle by brushing the grass with my feet.

‘It is Mr Devere.’ Susan hurried to my side, excited for me. ‘I wonder what he could want with us.’

‘I am sure I don’t know.’ I pretended not to understand her implication that he was interested in me, nor to note the rosy glow of his heart expand as he drew nearer to us.

‘Ladies.’ He gave a slight bow in greeting.

‘Mr Devere.’ I responded with a small curtsey, as did Susan. ‘Is the game not afoot today?’ I wondered why he was not away shooting with the men, as planned.

‘On the contrary, the game is in fine form,’ he said, his eyes intent upon me. ‘However, there is another caller at the house, and Lord Derby has asked that you join them for tea and introductions.’

‘Then we are much obliged for your consideration in seeking us out.’ Susan linked arms with me to ensure I did not delay, and upon moving off toward the house, my treasure slipped from my hand.

‘Miss Granville, you dropped this.’ Mr Devere was quick to be of assistance, but seeing him hold the enchanted stone out to me, I was horrified.

‘No, you must not give this to me.’ I panicked, and knew I was confusing the issue, but Mr Devere seemed a good fellow. ‘It would bring you bad luck.’

He laughed at my distress. ‘I am not superstitious.’ He insisted that I take the stone from him, but still I would not.

‘Could you not drop it, and I shall retrieve it?’ I suggested. Susan quickly corrected my bad manners.

‘Really, Ashlee, no gentleman could allow what you suggest,’ she whispered in an aside to me.

‘I promise no harm will come of it.’ He pressed the stone into my hand. ‘Any service to you, Miss Granville, is my greatest pleasure.’

Then why could you not have done as I asked? I wondered. ‘I’m much obliged to you, sir.’ After all, I did give him fair warning. Why should I worry if he freely invited misfortune upon himself?

However, the mishap did make me realise that I should find a secure place on my person to store the treasure, so that I could not curse anyone else with my little experiment. The trouble with female attire is that there are no pockets, and to wear the piece on a chain around my neck, rather than the tiny cross I wore at present, under sufferance, would surely mark me as the pagan I was. I decided I would ask Nanny Beat to make a little pouch in which I would place the enchanted stone and then pin it under my attire where it would escape the notice of everyone.

LESSON 4

COURTSHIP

I was expecting an afternoon of polite conversation and boredom, and yet, to my great delight, I could not have been more mistaken.

The older gentleman Lord Cavandish introduced over tea was the Viscount of Herefordshire, Lord Douglas Hamilton, who was a self-taught, self-styled archaeologist. He had travelled through the Near East and beyond in his younger days researching the origins of the sacred doctrines of the church. He was also a theologian who had undertaken extensive investigation into many other religions and beliefs, and had been banned from lecturing at English universities because of his open views. Still, he’d made a fortune lecturing on the Continent and his fame made him something of a celebrity at home. Lord Cavandish was very fond of him, as he had attended many of the viscount’s lectures before his services had been politely discontinued by the English system.

‘I knew that you would be something of a fascination for Miss Granville, Lord Hereford.’ Lord Cavandish gave a chuckle, noting that my gaze had not shifted from the viscount in over fifteen minutes. ‘She has long aspired to travel…to pursue an interest in the very same area of your speciality.’

I was spellbound by the tales of France, Italy, Egypt and India. Lord Hereford chose his words for clarity, and the warm velvet character of his voice made listening to him speak an absolute pleasure. The tales of his travels were to me more uplifting than the most stirring adagio, more intriguing than a work of the theatre could ever dare to be, and more tangible and personal than any book I had ever read.

‘You have an interest in ancient doctrines, Miss Granville?’ the viscount inquired politely.

The viscount was still a handsome man, and I won’t say ‘for his age’, because he was just handsome—period. His greying fair hair only made him appear more dignified. He was trim from a life on the move, and had skin that had seen too many days in the hot sun. His eyes were pale blue, large and sunken into their sockets, and although