Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
The Micklewick Bay Heritage Centre was located in the cove’s old chandlery building on the Hedda Staithe – Staithe being an old English word for landing – and had recently acquired the tall, thin four-storey-cottage next door with plans to extend into it.
With nothing to shield it from the elements, particularly the savage winds that charged in off the sea, the staithe was in one of the coldest spots in the cove.
With the ground still hidden beneath a thick covering of snow, Lark and Nate made their way carefully along the seafront, seagulls braving the elements and shrieking overhead.
After almost taking a tumble on a particularly icy patch – Nate had come to the rescue and somehow managed to keep her upright even though he had the small suitcase in his other hand – Lark was now clinging onto his arm and she found herself thinking the close proximity was rather nice, though she told herself it was simply because she was so cold, and he, in contrast, felt nice and warm.
That was all. Nothing else. Absolutely not!
She ignored the little voice that said, ‘And who are you trying to kid, Lark Harker?’
It had a point if the image that had sprung into her mind of Nate’s lips being millimetres away from hers was anything to go by.
The timing couldn’t have been much worse.
The heat in the blush she felt race over her cheeks was so intense Lark was sure there’d be steam coming off her any minute.
She took solace in the thought that she could blame having such a red face on the cold wind.
As if there wasn’t enough to think about with the suitcase, and the tin with everything inside it, not to mention these strange vibes she’d been getting about Nate. Ugh!
She was glad when they arrived at their destination.
‘Come in out of the cold.’ Louisa Norton held the entrance door to the heritage centre open, greeting them with a warm smile.
Lark would put her in her late forties to early fifties.
She had highlighted blonde hair and kind, dark eyes, while her black trousers and fitted beige polo neck jumper lent her a smart but casual air.
She was friendly and had an easy manner, and Lark found herself instantly warming to her.
She was a far cry from her predecessor who constantly wore a sour expression – or as Jasmine had succinctly put it in her inimitable style, he had a face “like a bag of spanners”.
His permanent grouchiness had resulted in all but one of the volunteers leaving, and everyone assumed she’d only stayed because she was his wife.
Even she had ended up leaving eventually, which said it all, really.
Lark wondered if the new curator knew what a task she had on her hands. Winning round the local community and gaining their support once more wasn’t going to be easy.
‘I’m Louisa,’ she said, holding out her hand to Lark. ‘Thank you so much for getting in touch. It’s lovely to meet you. I’ve been like a cat on hot bricks all morning, waiting for your visit.’
‘I’m Lark.’ Smiling, Lark took the curator’s proffered hand. ‘Thank you for allowing us to drop in at such short notice. This is Nate, who I told you about. Mr Thurston contacted him about removing the contents.’
‘Pleased to meet you, too, Nate.’ She held out her hand to him as well.
‘Aye, good to meet you, Louisa.’ Her small hand was lost in his as he gave it an enthusiastic shake.
‘Before we get started, I’d just like to stress that I’ve contacted Mr Thurston about the items we’re about to show you, and he couldn’t have put it more clearly that he wants absolutely nowt to do with any of them. ’
‘Okay, thanks for letting me know.’
‘And I’ve got a receipt as proof, if you need it. It clearly states that it covers all contents.’
Lark noticed Nate looked relieved to have got that off his chest. She knew he liked to be upfront with everything he did as far as his business was concerned.
‘I don’t doubt that for a second, Nate.’ Louisa smiled. ‘Come through, I’ll make a pot of tea, then we can take a look at the suitcase.’
They followed the curator into the back of the building, Lark’s eyes taking in the artfully arranged exhibits. How had it been so long since she’d last paid it a visit? It looked fascinating! She reminded herself of the grouchy former curator, which answered her question perfectly.
‘I’ve dug out a few things that might be of interest to you,’ Louisa said as she walked along, a spring in her step. ‘I was so excited after your call, I couldn’t wait to dive in, and I’m sure there’ll be heaps more.’
‘It sounds intriguing,’ said Lark, instantly struck by Louisa’s friendliness and easy manner.
But there was something else, too – she sensed that the older woman had suffered enormous sadness in recent years; the loss of someone close.
It had affected her deeply, though she was through the worst of it now.
How come I’m sensing all of this when I’m trying to block these feelings?
Lark tried to force her thoughts back to the reason she and Nate were there, but the vibes seemed to have other ideas and kept pushing through.
She found herself sensing kindness and compassion as well as a joie de vivre that had been dimmed but was now ready to be reignited.
‘Okay, here we are.’ Louisa pushed through a door with a sign that indicated it gave access to staff only.
She stopped at a large table in the middle of the room.
‘If you’d like to pop the suitcase on here, we can take a look inside.
’ She rubbed her hands together excitedly, catching Lark’s eye and giving a wide smile.
Though Lark felt anxious about the reopening of the suitcase, she couldn’t help but smile back.
Nate lifted the small case, setting it in the middle of the table.
Lark felt her stomach flip over. She drew in a deep breath, gripping the pieces of malachite crystals she’d deliberately left in her coat pockets as Nate pressed his thumbs against the clasps. Louisa looked on, an expression of anticipation on her face.
He lifted the lid, sending the damp, acrid smell rising into the air. Tension made Lark’s stomach churn, and she braced herself for the weird energy to show itself once more.
Louisa gasped. ‘Oh my goodness!’ She slid a pair of tortoiseshell glasses onto her nose, her eyes eagerly roving over the contents. ‘I wonder how long the items have been in there?’
Lark’s heart was thudding so loudly, she was sure the others would be able to hear it.
She wondered if Louisa had sensed the change of energy in the room.
Lark certainly had. She took another steadying breath, concentrating on putting up an invisible shield to the sensations that were now rushing over her and vying for her attention.
There was an undeniable power in the energy, but it had grown weaker since she and Nate had opened the case yesterday.
Had the sage burning helped? Lark felt the pressure lift slightly and heaved an inward sigh of relief.
Maybe this wasn’t going to be as stressful as she’d feared.
Nate’s voice drew her back into the conversation as he replied to Louisa.
‘I’ve no idea, but according to Mr Thurston and other locals, the place has stood empty for decades.’
‘May I?’ Louisa asked, her hand poised above the item wrapped in the piece of eiderdown.
Nate nodded. ‘Of course.’
Lark and Nate focused their attention on Louisa, watching as she carefully folded the eiderdown back and lifted the tin out.
The lid came off more easily this time, revealing the pistol, the ornate metalwork and the rich patina of its wooden handle glowing under the bright lights.
It felt as if the room and everyone in it was collectively holding its breath.
‘Oh my days!’ Louisa’s face was transfixed as she examined the pistol, gingerly turning it over in her hand, her fingers smoothing over the embossed initials. ‘J.W.F.,’ she said softly. ‘James William Fitzgilbert.’
‘That’s what we thought,’ said Nate, excitement in his voice.
‘If this is original – which I’m pretty certain it is – then it’s of great historical importance to the town.
I’m not a fan of guns by any stretch of the imagination, but I can hardly believe I’m looking at the pistol that belonged to and was very likely held in the hand of Benjamin Fitzgilbert,’ she said, her voice filled with awe.
‘How will we find out if it is genuine?’ asked Lark, concentrating her focus on keeping a clear head and not letting the energy that was prodding at her interfere with her thoughts.
‘I know an expert who can examine it. He should be able to age it quite precisely.’
‘Wow!’ The larger-than-life stories of danger, daring and suspicion that had been legend for so many years were suddenly becoming very real.
They were talking about actual people who had once walked the very same streets in Old Micklewick that she had.
The realisation sent a shudder running through Lark.
‘What about the other things in the case?’ asked Nate.
‘Yes, there’s a leather-bound book and a piece of paper with some odd words written on it that I couldn’t quite decipher,’ added Lark.
‘Let’s have a look.’ With great care, Louisa placed the pistol on the table before lifting the book out of the case.
She agreed with them that the leather was too fragile to handle for her to consider looking inside right now, but the curator assured them she had a contact who was an expert in working with such artefacts, and would contact her later that day.
‘I expect it’s some sort of ledger, keeping records of smuggling activity. I’ve heard there are other such books in existence. And how thrilling to think there’s one for Micklewick Bay.’ The prospect sent excitement dancing across Louisa’s face.
‘Hey, you never know, Lark, you might even find a distant relative listed in there.’ Nate chuckled, giving her shoulder a nudge.