Lord of the Abbey (6 page)

The Abbot said the great sapphire was sacred and far too holy to end as another trinket in Henry’s coffers. I remember the large blue stone twinkled in the candle light like a million stars blinking at night. It was given as a gift to the Abbey of Glaston by St. David. We covered the sapphire with velvet and placed it in a small lidded box made of metal.

We removed the gem along with the Holy Cruets containing the blood and sweat of Jesus the Christ’s crucifixion, and brought to Glastonbury by the Holy Saint Joseph of Arimathea. All were then placed in a leaden box and taken to an underground chamber at a site removed from the Abbey, the place of an ancient lady saint, also a place of a miracle by St. Mary, which was according to the Abbot truly ancient and most Holy ground, and long connected to the old church and the Abbey. Since both of those items meant something special to St. Mary, he told me she would protect them from the King and his greedy minions.

There were secret chambers here and there in the tunnels that lay beneath the abbey grounds. Though I couldn’t inspect closely in the days following the destruction, I do not think any of the other treasures the Abbot and I hid were found.

I did hear reports of plate and chalices being found hidden. That information was used to convict the Abbot, along with books and supposed treasonous letters. Those items were found within the Abbey walls before it was demolished, for I knew too of their hiding places.

In one of the secret tunnel chambers is where we placed the bones of St. Patrick, a King named Arthur and his Queen, along with the bones of St. Joseph. The Abbot put the bones in sackcloth so they were easier to carry, for the tombs and coffins could not be removed. It is there we also placed the one remaining piece of wattle from the old church. I did not see the old wattle. It was already placed inside a metal box. The Abbot said Jesus and St. Joseph of Arimathea built the first church at the place where the Lady Chapel once stood by their own hands.

There were other bones and numerous holy relics we hid but I’m too old to remember whose they were in my aged state. Some Saints or another, I’m thinking. They are listed in the Abbot’s letters, I am sure. But I do remember the Holiest of the treasures, told me by the Abbot.

There was a crucifix with letters and words which I did not read, for I hadn’t the time to study it. A leaden cross the Abbot called it. The Abbot said it belonged to the King whose bones we did hide. This was placed in a false niche with some other Holy relics from that time in the tunnel leading to the Pilgrim, along with some books from the great Glastonbury library.

Next, we carefully packed into trunks, ancient chalices, most gold and silver; along with pixes, cruets, and oil vessels, all gold, pewter or silver and many encrusted with jewels. There were several of the most valuable altar cloths from the main altars, all beaded with gems, relics and threaded with gold. Those, we placed inside an incredible secret room at the end of the ancient Torr tunnel, with all of the Holiest and most sacred of the Abbey’s manuscripts, books, and ancient scrolls placed in pottery jars. The entrance of this room could not be detected from inside the tunnel unless one knew of the chamber’s existence. The Abbot said the tunnel and chamber were used by ancient Druids.

I cannot tell you if any of the tunnels are still intact, for it has been some twenty to thirty years since I last located them all. I often saw the entrance to the ancient Torr tunnel, though I dared not explore it further for as it happened, a family member seemed to be always near me. The entrance appeared to be undisturbed. I hope and pray it has remained so.

That is my secret, which I believe shall remain protected until it is safe for a rightful person or persons to find these treasures and restore them to their rightful place in the Abbey at my beloved Glastonbury. If only God will allow her to someday be rebuilt and restored to the Holy Father in Rome. In the letters of Abbot Whiting are detailed lists and an exact description of where the items can be found.

I will take the exact locations of his letters and the Holy treasures with me to my grave. Unless one or more of my letters are found quite by accident before this one is discovered, there is little chance of any of it ever being found. Herein this letter was given the location where one will find a clue which gives the exact location of the aforementioned treasures, and a clue to one location of the Abbey’s treasure.”

William Fotherby Dulac

Harry was spellbound, not only by the story, but by the Angel who read it. He noticed how her crystalline, light blue eyes were only a shade darker than her gown, and how they sparkled as she read William Dulac’s letter. He noted the color of her hair resembled spun gold, and winked like golden topaz in the lamp and candlelight, woven into intricate braids and wispy curls that framed her face. His eyes transfixed on her lush pink lips, and his thoughts strayed. Her alabaster skin was flawless, translucent. He ached to touch it and feel the softness of it. Her clear, melodious voice bewitched him with her assurance of herself and her belief of the intriguing tale.

Rowena took a deep breath. “And that is the letter of William Dulac.”

“Have any of you ever heard of a Dulac Manor?” Harry inquired. “It must have been near the Tor for William to witness the hanging of Abbot Whiting. Definitely near Stonedown, perhaps on the other side of the Tor. No doubt it is long gone.”

“I know of Dulac Manor.” Frances Phippen’s face glowed with amusement. She winked at Rowena. “As I explained to Rowena the day she discovered the letter, my grandmother’s name was Rose Frances Henrietta Dulac Parfitt. She had no brothers. She was born a Dulac at Stonedown Manor. She married Henry Parfitt and had two sons and one daughter, my mother, Henrietta Rowena Parfitt Winstone, whom she bequeathed Stonedown to in her dowry. According to her father, the Manor was centuries before called Dulac Manor.”

Frances continued, “Many locals, however, began to call the lane Stonedown, when two lines of great standing stones leading to the Tor were pulled down to build barns and outbuildings at the Manor in the early sixteenth century, likely prior to our William Dulac leaving the Abbey. Centuries after the stones were pulled down the lane kept the name Stonedown, hence Stonedown Lane. Over the last hundred years or more the Manor was solely referred to as Stonedown, and the original name, Dulac Manor, was forgotten.”

“So“, Harry rose looking extremely pleased, “the letters are hidden in a secret compartment somewhere in
your
home!”

“Yes. The Abbot’s letters along with William’s are hidden somewhere in our house, but we have been unable to locate any save this one,” Rowena confessed glumly. “We have tried to find the secret chamber, but I fear William Dulac was correct – the chamber must be well hidden. We have been unsuccessful.”

Harry, deep in thought, pulled at his chin. “It
would
be easier to find the hidden treasure if we found Abbot Whiting’s letter detailing the location of said treasure first. Lady Sperring, Lady Rowena, will you allow Amesbury and I to conduct a search of your home to locate the secret chamber? We would be happy to come to Stonedown tomorrow afternoon and give the place a thorough search. We both possess some knowledge of old architecture. If memory serves, renovations done to Stonedown, though extensive, did not harm the original part of your manor. With only additions being built on to your house, the chance the secret chamber still exists remains very high. I think we should look through the rest of your books as well!”

“Please do, My Lords! We certainly welcome your help in this matter,” Frances was quick to agree.

“Absolutely. Tomorrow afternoon will be perfect!” Rowena added.

“We shall call on you tomorrow.” Lyon rose as well and rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

“We will see you at say, two o’clock?” Harry smiled.

“Two shall be perfect.” Frances smiled.

Rowena glowed with triumph. The night went much better than she hoped. Not only had she not been deemed a fool, but she felt Lord Glaston and Lord Amesbury were both as intrigued by the mystery of the Abbey’s treasure as she was.

It seemed her dream might be realized. At least there was now a chance to find the treasure. Her eyes met the deep brown gaze of Harry Bellingham, Earl of Glaston. She wondered what else she might find on such a venture.

The day dawned rainy and cold. The conditions remained into mid morning. Though the skies remained dark with clouds, the rain finally subsided. Rowena did not let the dismal weather dampen her spirits. She looked forward to Lord Glaston and Lord Amesbury’s arrival. Her hopes were high that the secret chamber would be found. Or another letter. Sitting in the library, she tried to focus on her research. Her gaze traveled to the large lancet windows where beyond stood the Tor, still visible above the gathering mist circling in the fields at the base.

Yet her mind strayed. To thoughts of Harry Bellingham. He was indeed handsome, but no more so than Lyon Ravenscroft. There was something about Harry Bellingham that distracted her. That drew her attention. Perhaps she was anxious for the gentlemen to arrive so she could see Harry Bellingham again? She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since she met him. In fact, Rowena long believed she would never again think of a man
that
way until last night. And this morning. And now. She frowned.

Rowena cautioned herself against such foolish thoughts. She was free, heiress to her aunt’s and grandmother’s estate. She hadn’t the slightest inclination to marry. She felt certain when and if Harry Bellingham sought a wife, he would seek a tonnish wife who could and would subject herself to society, the Season and life in London. Rowena refused to do this.

After a disastrous season at the time of her broken engagement many years before, Rowena never returned to the social whirl in London. She still felt uneasy when she remembered all the gossip and rumors that, in truth, ran her from Town. She would never subject herself to such emotional pain again. She recalled the pain of the unkind remarks, the gossip being spread in front of her and oft times within earshot, and those same acts performed without any thought for her feelings. As if she didn’t exist. Being ostracized by her brother and his family. It was her own brother whom arranged the marriage to the evil Viscount Dalworth who was believed to be a murderer of his three former wives.

Aunt Frances confronted her brother, Richard Locke, with Lord Dalworth’s questionable reputation. Richard shrugged it off as nonsense. He told her aunt that Rowena would benefit from such a strict and unyielding husband for she was headstrong, having been spoiled by her mother. And Richard would benefit from a strategic business merger with Dalworth. He informed her aunt that Rowena was his pawn to control. Women married. It was their duty to their family. Rowena might as well marry Dalworth over another. It mattered little who she married, just so long as she did.

Aunt Frances skillfully and calculatingly helped Rowena escape from the engagement to a very dangerous man. After her narrow escape, Rowena knew Dalworth capable of having a hand in the deaths of his former wives. In fact, she suspected the man’s wives were indeed murdered.

Although the actions taken for the escape from the engagement itself caused even more scandal, Rowena and Aunt Frances were willing to deal with it. Had dealt with it. The ruse worked and Rowena was freed from an unwanted and potentially dangerous marriage to the despicable Lord Dalworth. Her reputation was, however, thoroughly damaged.

She and Aunt Frances returned to Glastonbury. It was Aunt Frances who, wealthy in her own right, bequeathed Stonedown to Rowena, and gave her, along with a small annual allowance, an inheritance large enough to sustain her comfortably for the rest of her life.

Aunt Frances didn’t have much of a taste for London after the incident either, so it worked out fine for both of them over the years. They toured England, Scotland and Ireland. They took the Grand Tour of Europe. They visited France and Italy often. At least once a year, they either sent to or visited the warehouses in Paris or London for fabrics. Their own head housekeeper’s daughter proved to be a very skilled seamstress and created garments to rival the best
modistes
in London. At least fine enough for life in Glastonbury. On occasion they did slip into London for a day of shopping. But, that proved to be a rare occasion.