Her hand shook as she inserted the key into the left keyhole. It turned with a satisfying click. All three held their breath.

  On to the second keyhole. The position of her hand told him the key didn’t turn far enough.

  God’s teeth. He hadn’t wanted to consider the possibility that each keyhole might be configured differently.

  She frowned. “It won’t open. Simon, you try.”

  With an exasperated sigh, Simon took hold of the key and turned it to the right. When he met resistance, he slumped. He tried the other direction. The cursed box remained locked.

  Disappointment flooded him, and he bit back a shout. He wasn’t prone to outbursts or violence, but he’d allowed this cursed box to mean too much to him. He should’ve hidden it in a cupboard years ago to avoid constant reminders.

  “Is there another key?” she whispered, her eyes wide.

  “Apparently so. Though no one in my family mentioned it. I’ve been through every document I could find and questioned every relative. I’m at my wits’ end.” He stood. “Gilbert, we’ll return if we locate another key. Thank you for your time.”

  “Please, keep me informed,” Gilbert said as Simon put the box back in his satchel.

  Simon refused to quit. Perhaps with one working key as a guide, the German locksmith could fabricate the second.

  As they walked down the street, weaving their way around people, Simon was at a loss for words.

  “I see how disappointed you are. I’m sorry the key didn’t open both locks,” Cecily said. “We could talk to my grandmother. She insisted she didn’t know anything else, but we can ask again. And we can search my mother’s room thoroughly. It’s been cleaned, but perhaps we’ll find a clue. Maybe even the second key.”

  “Perhaps. I don’t have a better idea.” All of his searches had failed—so he was willing to try anything. Simon felt as if he’d aged a score of years. “I appreciate your help.”

  “I truly wish to help you.” The confession surprised her.

  “When you said you had a key, I stupidly allowed hope to flourish yet again. After all of the efforts I and others before me have made, I’m losing faith that we can open it. I say we smash it and be done with it.”

  “Yet, for years you let that box sit on your table, all those faces staring at you, laughing at you.” Had she been too harsh? “Would you rather give up when there are still paths to trod?”

  “If I’ve learned anything, it’s to have my servant move the box. As to giving up, I’m not sure. I’ve devoted too much effort, time, and coin to it.”

  As she’d devoted too much to mourning. “I understand. And I wish you well. I find it most unfortunate we didn’t meet under different circumstances.”

  Simon did not want to part ways with Cecily. “Why not work together still?”

  If they continued, Simon would have the opportunity to spend more time with her. It had been a while since he’d befriended a woman.

  “Talking to Gran won’t take long. My mother’s room is small, so there isn’t much to search. We can talk more after that.”

  He nodded. Cecily had a way of calming him, both with her manners and somehow knowing what to say.

  They continued in silence to her home. Simon did not know what he was going to say to her grandmother and hoped the old woman would accept him.

  When had he started to think of Cecily as his partner? In all honesty, she was his rival.

  “We’ll figure it out. Somehow,” Cecily said. Again, her words of comfort reassured him.

  “Within our lifetime, I hope” he jested.

  She smiled and touched his hand briefly. Her touch did something to him, made him feel things he shouldn’t… He turned all of his attention on her, the sunshine accentuating her beauty.

  No matter how alluring and resourceful she was, he didn’t want to be attracted to her—she was a stranger. But the mystery of the box overrode his instinctual need to protect himself. Fate had placed them together—so why should he fight against it?

  Chapter Four

  “What did you find?” Beatrice asked, glancing up from her embroidery. Her eyes widened when she noticed Simon. “Who is this?”

  “Gran, this is Master Simon Clarke. Simon, this is my grandmother, Beatrice Fayrefax.”

  “Are you my granddaughter’s new suitor?”

  Cecily’s cheeks heated, and she couldn’t meet Simon’s gaze.

  “I’m not seeking marriage,” he said.

  Because she had enjoyed Simon’s presence too much, Cecily sat next to her grandmother on the window seat as she explained the reason for his visit, ending with, “Mother’s key fit one keyhole, but not the other.”

  “The key is the first hope I’ve had in years. Can you remember anything at all that might help us locate the second key?” Simon asked.

  “Perhaps something mother said or did?” Cecily added.

  Gran shook her head. “Since you left, I’ve thought about it. Nothing new comes to mind. I’m sorry.”

  “Might Mother have talked with Joanna about this?”

  “I doubt it. Likely she wasn’t even told she was to be the next recipient.”

  Cecily sighed. “Thank you for trying, Gran. We’re going to search Mother’s room, just in case we missed something.”

  Memories of happy times in the familiar chamber tugged at Cecily. Though the narrow room held only a bed with a chest at the foot and a stool in the far corner, her mother had made the room feel special.

  The sun coming in through the window sent a stripe of light across the bed. Cecily knelt at the foot. “Let’s start with her chest. I think we should examine each item together.”

  Simon agreed as he knelt next to her.

  “There’s less of a chance of missing something if we’re both paying attention. Especially since we don’t know what we’re looking for beyond a key,” she said.

  Cecily lifted the lid. More memories were stirred, sending tears to her eyes.

  Simon pulled out a gown of soft, blue wool. His sister Melisant favored this color.

  “Gran and my mother embroidered the hem. I remember them laughing as they created these flowers.” Her fingers danced over the white daisies.

  “They were a skilled pair.”

  He shook out the gown gently. Nothing but a few creases showed.

  “Why do I keep hoping?” Simon asked. “I must learn to not expect so much. The solution couldn’t be as easy as the key being wrapped in the first item we checked.”

  “When we find the answer, it will seem easier after all these years. It reminds me of when I climbed Almscliffe Crag. My father took us there once when I was a girl. Getting to the top took hours. I grew tired and asked to turn around. But suddenly we were there. The effort made it worthwhile once we viewed the land below.”

  Some of the tension left his shoulders. He was glad he’d accepted her invitation. He spent too much time in his shop, stewing with disappointment as he worked. Her approach to solving problems was refreshing. “You’re still new to this. Your faith might not remain so strong if we keep facing challenges.”

  He set the gown on the bed and reached for the next item in the chest.

  “Wait,” Cecily said. “We should inspect the hem to make sure nothing is sewn inside and then make sure there are no hidden pockets.”

  “Yes.”

  She was clever. Beautiful. With one of the brightest smiles he’d seen. The way her eyes lit up made him want to make her smile more often.

  They sat together on the floor, and he spread the gown over their laps. They placed their thumbs and forefingers at the center of the hem and she made her way to the left, he to the right.

  “My mother loved to tell me tales by candlelight, and I loved hearing them.” Cecily sounded wistful. “My favorite was about a princess who’d been forced by an evil uncle to flee her home. She sewed coins and jewels into the hem of the gown she wore because her uncle had forbidden her from taking anything but the clothes on her back.”

  “What happened to the princess?”

  “She reached safety after a grueling journey rife with obstacles. She used the jewels to fund a small army of mercenaries to take back her castle. Then, naturally, she met a prince and they lived happily ever after.”

  “Well, it’d be nice if that tale turned out to be a clue to find something valuable in her gown.”

  “If not, I’ve dozens more stories,” she offered. “Perhaps there’s a hidden meaning in one of them.”

  As much as he liked Cecily’s voice, listening to every story she’d ever heard would overwhelm him eventually.

  Their fingers met at the back of the dress, and they froze.

  He didn’t want to move. That slight touch of soft skin made him realize how lonely he’d been. How attractive he found her.

  Their gazes met. Was that longing in her eyes?

  Now he did want to move. To hold her hand. And more.

  “Nothing here,” she said a bit too loudly. “On to the next.”

  She stood and pulled a darker blue gown of heavier wool from the chest and walked to the far side of the bed before spreading it out.

  He went to the opposite side. Better to stay farther away from her, for being too close meant temptation.

  Cecily sighed. “No key wrapped in this one, either.”

  They started to search the hem. He’d take care not to touch her again.

  Pushing aside his curiosity about the shared moment, he chose a safer subject to discuss. “These are in good condition and your size. Why do you not wear them?”

  “I might ruin them while I’m helping Gran in the kitchen or caring for her garden.”

  So, she wasn’t married or being wooed, and she spent most of her time at home. He preferred quiet nights at home, too, but perhaps he’d invite her to the York Corpus Christi Plays. He and his sisters enjoyed the performances by various guilds in wagons that traveled throughout York.

  He’d like to see her in her mother’s green gown, his favorite color. He could imagine the fabric clinging to her slim waist. And he’d design the perfect necklace to enhance her beauty. Her creamy complexion would make the perfect backdrop for an emerald he’d purchased.

  None of the four gowns or the cloak proved helpful.

  Simon took in the rest of the room. “What about that?” He pointed to a book on the stool near the door.

  “My mother’s book of hours? Our only heirloom. I kept it in my room for a while, but it belongs here. It contains some hand-written entries of family births, marriages, and deaths. I don’t recall anything unusual or clues about keys or boxes. Then again, I didn’t examine every page.”

  “We came here to check everything.” He sat on the bed, and Cecily joined him.

  Cecily opened the book. Familiar script warmed her heart.

  “Here’s the earliest family entry, from January, 1217. Baron Jenkin de Lacy’s wedding. He was my—I haven’t counted how many greats—great-grandfather, and one of King John’s barons. Eventually, he rebelled with twenty-four other barons against the king’s tyranny and broken promises. Jenkin married Eleanor of Elton, who had waited on Queen Isabella. I believe they’re my only family members who served royalty.”

  “One of my dreams is to have someone royal wear one of my pieces. I’ve used what I know of England’s queens as inspiration for my designs.” He bent his head closer to the text. “The last entry is ten years ago. Your mother’s death. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.” Wait. What was that? “I never noticed this small drawing next to Jenkin de Lacy’s name. It’s a hand with a pointing finger. Does that mean something?”

  “Perchance. It’s called a manicule or little hand. They’re drawn in the margins of manuscripts to point the way to important passages.”

  “Fascinating. But what makes this entry more important than the others?” She bent closer and squinted. “Are those numbers beneath it? One, three, four?”

  He bent so close their heads almost touched. His warmth and enticing herbal scent enchanted her. In surprise, she let go of the book.

  She wouldn’t have suggested searching the room if she’d known it could be so intimate. First their fingers had touched, sparking the urge to hold his hand. Now this. He was so close he could have kissed her. And she wished he had.

  “Or one, two, four?” Simon held the book up to the light. “The ink has faded.”

  “Could the numbers be a code? For what?”

  Each pondered for a moment.

  “Maybe they indicate another page in the book,” she suggested.

  “Worth trying.” He turned to the beginning. “Where do we start? From the first page of text or the first in the book?”

  “Let’s start with the first page of text. I suppose we’ll have to try both until we find something.”

  “If we find something.” His critical tone made her laugh.

  They shared a smile.

  Simon was too compelling. Sharing stories of her family helped him get to know her better, but she couldn’t wait to learn more about him.

  With the book spread open on Cecily’s lap, they counted out loud together. The last thing they wanted to do was make a mistake and have to start over.

  “One twenty-two, one twenty-three, one-twenty-four,” they said in unison.

  The page featured a sunburst in the left corner shining on an angel in white and the Virgin Mary in a blue robe, kneeling.

  “Pretty, but nothing stands out as unusual,” Cecily said.

  “Unless the clue is a word or phrase on this page. Though I don’t see any indication of which word or words that might be. Let’s mark where we are and move on to page one hundred and thirty-four.”

  Cecily couldn’t help notice how well they worked together, even in what could be a contentious situation.

  Slowly, they counted another ten, and landed on a page with Mary standing beneath a green canopy, one hand resting on a book open atop a reddish cabinet. She wore a gold crown and blue cape over a lighter blue gown. A few white lilies sprouted in the foreground. Again, nothing stood out as unusual.

  “Vespers from the Hours of the Virgin. What import can a prayer to be said in the early evening have for us?”

  “There, do you see?” He pointed near the crease between the two pages currently displayed.

  She gasped. “If we didn’t have the book spread open, we’d have missed it. A tiny drawing of a key!”

  “An accurate representation, to be sure. But how does it help us?”

  “Look closer. I don’t think it’s my key. I think it’s the second key.” She pulled hers out of her pocket and pointed. “Mine has the opening shaped like a cross on the same plane as the staff. But this image has a perpendicular opening.”

  “So it does. You may be right.” His voice sounded enthusiastic and happy. “Do you see any hints as to the second key’s location?”

  “Well, if a manicule indicates something important, perhaps this little key drawing does, too.”

  “Ah. Clever. You and whoever drew this. The key points to the word ‘earth’ in the phrase ‘Suscitans a terra inopem.’ ‘Lifting up the needy from the earth,’” he said.

  Caught up in the moment, they hugged. His hard body pressed against hers sent a thrill from her head to her toes. Clearly her strong reaction was a mere burst of excitement over their achievement combined with her first male embrace in years.

  Simon looked as stunned as she felt.

  “One step forward, but not far enough. What does ‘earth’ mean for us?” he asked calmly, seeming to recover faster than she.

  For if she answered, her voice would quiver like the rest of her.

  After they went downstairs, Cecily told Gran what they’d learned.

  “The pair of you are good at solving problems,” Gran said.

  “Simon advises against raising our hopes. Next, we’ll see how the locksmith fares. If he fails, we’ll determine how ‘earth’ is relevant.”

  Gran raised her walking stick. “You’re spending too much time on this. There are things to do about this house. You must weed the garden.”

  Gratitude and responsibility toward her closest relative weighed in the balance against the need to finish what she and Simon had started together.

  She had dedicated so much of her life to helping others.

  Gran seemed fit enough. But what if she fell or became ill while Cecily was away?

  Cecily dared to say, “I’ll pull weeds as soon as I return. Let us depart, Simon.”

  “You give allegiance to this man over me?” Gran asked.

  “I’ll ask Mother Nash to check on you and offer to help her in return,” Cecily suggested.

  “I want you to help me.”

  With a swift kiss to Gran’s cheek, Cecily strode to the door.

  “Cecily, it’s hot and the beans are dry!” her grandmother called as they left.

  What had Simon thought of the unpleasant exchange?

  How had her life had come to this? Never had she tested the boundaries of her life before. She had plenty of food to eat, a warm fire, and a small, but pleasant garden. But if she couldn’t leave when she chose, then she lived a life of confinement. She had to find a way to see to Gran’s care without being subject to Gran’s endless demands.

  If the box yielded any valuables, Cecily had a chance of coming away with enough coin to hire a servant to care for Gran. If not, she did not know what she would do.

  Chapter Five

  Dietmar Waldron frowned endlessly. Tall and thin, he wore all black and had his blonde hair tied at his nape.

  Simon had been so engrossed with Cecily he’d forgotten the locksmith was due to arrive. Now Dietmar could try to produce a key, which would take less time and effort than continuing a search for the second key.

  Simon could see Cecily from the corner of his eye. It’d been too long since a woman not related to him had a place at his table. It felt intimate, though she was there to observe the attempt to open the box, not share a meal by the fire. Nor were they alone.

 

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