especially excited that her betrothed had suggested that they be married by a special licence granted by the Archbishop of Canterbury. Such a licence cost the huge sum of twenty-eight guineas and was quite often used by the well-to-do. I daresay I had never seen my dear friend more beside herself with excitement, joy and pride, for she was to be a countess, just as her mother before her. Quite apart from the prestige of the affair, Susan was very taken with Lord Oxford, James Devere, and he with her—everyone agreed it was a fine match.
Due to a falling out between Lord Hamilton and the Church of England over his research, a marriage by special licence was not a route the viscount and myself could take. The risk of my father—or Lord Hamilton’s extended family—objecting was too great for a marriage by the banns to be an option either. So it was decided that it would be a civil licence for us. We only needed to be residents of London for fifteen days and a licence would be granted, whereby we would be permitted to marry in a church or a registry. As neither of us was very religious we decided on the latter option.
Five days later I was visiting with Lord Hamilton, whom I had taken to calling Mr Hamilton. Nanny Beat had accompanied me on the visit to avoid gossip and she was quietly doing needlepoint at the other end of the room, whilst Mr Hamilton and I discussed our wedding plans.
Not that there was too much to discuss. As soon as we were married, we planned to do the frightfully unfashionable thing and leave London for the duration of the social season. We would retire to Lord Hereford’s estate in the Midlands, which housed his extensive reference library, and get to work on my further education.
I enjoyed discussing our plans and I thought Lord Hamilton was also, but as I began speaking of our future together, the man’s good mood ebbed. His light-body clouded over momentarily and I knew that something was bothering him.
‘Why are you so distressed?’ I asked. ‘Is it the objections to our marriage that your relatives have expressed?’
‘Hardly. We both know they have nothing to fear, and if they wish to get all sweaty over the issue then…so be it.’ He grinned to hide his worry. ‘I am distressed because I have a gift for you.’ He reached down behind his comfy chair and handed me two heavy, bound locked books. ‘Like you, Miss Granville, these are very precious to me and therefore I want you to have them.’
‘Oh, my lord!’ I was stunned. They looked intriguing, and had locks on them, yet neither of the books had titles or authors on the cover. ‘What amazing texts are these?’ I looked the curiosities over as I accepted them from my betrothed.
‘What is within is too secret to be named,’ he explained. ‘Here are the keys.’ He held them out to me on a fine piece of deep green ribbon which was tied in a bow to stop the keys escaping.
I placed the books aside and, leaning forward to take the ribbon from him, my lips brushed his cheek fondly. ‘Another man might have given me jewels to win my favour…and that is why I love you, Mr Hamilton.’
As Nanny cleared her throat, I took the hint and sat back to investigate my presents further.
‘Open them later, my dear, when you are
I smiled. ‘You know that I know there is something amiss with you?’
Yes, I had told my intended of my extraordinary abilities and how my father had made me suppress them for fear of me ruining his reputation or embarrassing him. To this Mr Hamilton had replied that he had already ruined his reputation in the House of Lords and that no matter what I did with my life, I would never bring him anything but joy and utter delight. Now you see why I couldn’t but adore the man.
‘You promised you wouldn’t use your hocus-pocus on me.’ He defended himself lightheartedly.
‘I don’t have to look past the expression on your face to know that something has upset you…is it me? Are you having second thoughts?’
‘No,’ he stated resolutely. ‘You are not the problem.’
‘Is it my father? Your relatives? Mr Devere?’ I kept trying to guess, while Lord Hamilton shook his head, smiling.
‘All of the above,’ he joked, ‘and none.’ His humour evaporated.
I had promised Mr Hamilton that I wouldn’t violate his mental space, and if I broke that vow now there would be no hope for me during our married life together.
‘Are you ill?’ I became worried, although I noted that his light-body was much healthier than when we’d first met—especially his heart.
Mr Hamilton laughed away that fear. ‘My dear Miss Granville, I haven’t felt this good in twenty years. I just wanted to give you a present, that’s all.’ He sidestepped the whole inquiry. ‘Is there a law against it that I am not aware of?’
‘No,’ I giggled, as he exaggerated his injured pride for my amusement. I wanted to ask why he hadn’t waited until our wedding night to give me his treasured books, but since he’d worked so hard to steer me off the topic I didn’t have the heart to breach it again.
When I returned home that evening and I was alone, as requested, I unlocked the viscount’s gifts.
The silver key unlocked a green volume. Inside was a handwritten text, complete with sketches, of the life’s work of Douglas and Clarissa Hamilton. My eyes immediately filled with tears of gratitude, that he would give me such a personal treasure. On the inside of the thick cover Lord Hereford had written, To
The thick red volume was far more extraordinary. It had a gold lock and key, and inside was no text at all. The pages had been hollowed out, but it appeared to be a book when closed. It did, in fact, contain a small vial of white substance—it was not a liquid, so I assumed it was a very fine powder, like ash.
‘Such a big book for such a little vial?’ I picked the intricately carved crystal container out of its padded red velvet casing, but I dared not open it until I asked Lord Hereford what it was.
I closed my eyes and focused on the vial to see what history it had to tell me, but apart from a few fleeting glimpses of Lord Hamilton admiring the contents, I saw nothing. It was as if the vessel had been cleansed of all psychic imprints.
