Chapter Eleven
Mishra replied to Phineas’s quick note within an hour, indicating he would come to Waring House via the back gate that evening at midnight exactly.
Taking extra precautions, Phin advised Iago of the night’s anticipated visitor and asked him to instruct the men covertly guarding the house to behave accordingly.
At a few minutes before midnight, he went into the rear garden himself and strode quietly to the back gate.
Standing in the shadows along the wall, he listened for any movement or sound coming from the mews beyond.
All was silent but for the expected night sounds and the occasional crunch of carriage wheels some distance away.
Then, a faint whisper. Mishra’s voice murmuring in a bare breath, “My lord, I am here.”
Phin immediately unlocked the gate and Mishra slipped through, dressed in nondescript, dark clothing. He met Phin’s gaze for a second before gesturing for him to resecure the gate. He did so in silence before leading the way back into the house.
Neither of them spoke as Phin brought the other man up to his study where the necklace was still kept in the secret compartment of the cigar case. Closing the door, he released a breath.
“Good to see you made it safely. No problems along the way?”
“None that I could discern,” Mishra replied. Usually jovial and relaxed, the man possessed an obvious tension in his form that was utterly out of character.
“Please, come sit.” Phin gestured to the chairs before the fire. A small liquor table was placed between them. “Brandy?”
Mishra shook his head but took the offered seat. “I must not stay long, my lord. I cannot guarantee I was not followed.”
“Of course,” Phin replied. The other man’s obvious wariness put his senses on alert. “Has your research revealed anything pertinent?”
Mishra’s dark gaze flickered as he gave a humorless laugh. “Indeed.” He gave Phin a sharp-angled look. “It is quite the artifact that has landed in your hands. If it is not a replica. Though, in truth, it’s obvious that there are those who fully believe it to be genuine.”
Something in the man’s tone had Phin asking, “What do you mean?”
“The night after you left my shop, there was a break-in. Three armed men entered while I slept and attempted to ruffle through my entire store. I barely managed to chase them off.”
“You chased off three armed men?” Phin asked, slightly incredulous.
Mishra’s mouth curved with a humorless smile.
“I am not without skills, my lord. I would not be where I am if I could not defend what is mine.” He shrugged.
“Even so, I have decided to temporarily close my shop and leave town for a while. I’ve heard the Scottish Highlands are a lovely place to get lost.”
Phin scowled. “I’m sorry you are forced to do this. I did not intend to bring any danger upon you.”
“You did not,” Mishra replied firmly. “It is the necklace. It is cursed.”
An odd fiery tingle raced down Phin’s spine as he stared at the smaller man.
Such words were not unfamiliar to him. In his many travels through countless lands and cultures, he’d heard hundreds of tales that claimed the existence of curses.
Over the years, he’d come into contact with countless artifacts steeped in history and legend, some believed to hold mystical properties.
Things of that nature did not frighten or impress him overly much anymore, but he never discounted them.
Even the most fantastical tale was often based in some amount of truth.
And there was something in Mishra’s voice that gave him pause. It raised the hair on his arms and sent a chill across his skin.
“To be certain,” the Indian man whispered reverently, “I must see it. Is it still in your possession?”
Slightly unsettled by the other man’s atypical manner, Phin paused. But only for a moment. He trusted this man implicitly.
“It is. In this room, in fact.” As he rose to his feet, he noticed that Mishra tightly closed his eyes and lowered his head, clearly not wanting to know where the item might be hidden.
Already prepared with the carved oak leaf key in his pocket, Phin quietly strode to his desk and released the bottom of the cigar box to remove the jewelry box.
He returned everything to its place before going back to his chair.
After he was seated, Mishra opened his eyes, his focus falling directly on the box in Phin’s hands.
“Set it on the table, please.”
Phin did so, turning it to open toward Mishra who slowly extended his hand to lift the lid.
He expected to see awe in the other man’s eyes. Or wonder at the magnificence of the piece now that he was gazing upon its gleaming beauty. But Mishra’s fearful astonishment was not at all what he might have anticipated. And once again Phin asked himself what in hell Barnaby had gotten mixed up in.
“I had prayed that I might be wrong…” Mishra whispered to himself as he reached for a rolled parchment that had been tucked into an inner pocket of his coat.
Unrolling it he revealed a vibrant painting that he spread on the table.
Mishra drew the jewelry box closer and hunched over the image, darting his eyes from the painting to the necklace and back again, apparently forgetting Phineas’s presence entirely.
Peering at the upside-down painting, all Phin could see was an image of a young woman, dressed in what appeared to be formal Hindi clothing.
She was seated on a divan with a bower of flowers around her and various woodland creatures peeking at her from the lush foliage.
A closer look revealed a gentle swarm of what appeared to be bees circling her head.
And around her throat, a necklace, like the one before them.
His breath caught as Mishra traced his finger over the depiction of the necklace in the painting.
“It is the same,” he murmured.
Mishra nodded, never taking his eyes from the painting.
“Where did you get this painting? Who is she?”
“A princess of one of the Rajput kingdoms who lived in the 14th century,” he replied, leaving the first question unanswered. Then he bobbled his head and lifted an inquiring look. “May I?”
Phin nodded and the man gently collected the three-tiered necklace from the box.
With both hands, he turned the item one way then the other, studying the intricate goldwork, the many large jewels and the hundreds of smaller semiprecious stones.
As expected, he spent the most time assessing the large honeybee motif that made up the central focal point of the necklace, examining the set of stones that made up the insect as well as the Sanskrit markings that were etched into the gold setting.
After several long minutes of silent perusal, the man lifted his head with a sorrowful expression and a deep dread in his eyes. “I wish I could say this is a replica or a fake. I do not believe it is.”
An odd sense of dread twisted through Phin’s core. “You must enlighten me, Mr. Mishra. Why is this piece so disconcerting? Why the need for such precaution?”
The man set the necklace back into the box, reverently arranging it to his liking, before closing the lid and sliding it back across the table. His dark eyes were wide and undeniably worried as they met Phin’s.
“It is an object of myth. And legend. Worn only once before disappearing completely.” His voice quivered. “It should not exist…”
“I don’t understand,” Phin said quietly.
Mishra’s eyes narrowed, crinkling at the corners. His next words were harsh and firm. “You should not have this. Items like this should remain lost, my lord. It is cursed.”
It was the second time Mishra had used that word. And there was something in the other man’s eyes that suggested Phin should not disregard any warnings about this necklace.
“How did you acquire such a piece?” Mishra asked.
“A friend sent it to me and asked me to keep it safe until he could retrieve it.”
The other man gave a soft snort. “Not a good friend, my lord. There is too much tragedy and death connected to this necklace, it can only attract more of the same. Get rid of it.”
That was something he could not do.
“Unfortunately, it must remain with me for now. What else can you tell me about it? Perhaps I can guard against the curse if I know more about it.”
The other man shook his head and rose to his feet. Gesturing, he urged Phineas to rise as well. Then he turned away, giving his back. “Return it to its hiding place, my lord. You should only take it out when absolutely necessary.”
Phin crossed the room, noting that Mishra didn’t shift from his position, though he did speak, his tone tense and urgent.
“I know very little. And what I do know is from stories passed down by warnings and whispers. The truth is known only to those who’d first possessed the piece and suffered its woeful effects.”
“That’s right,” Phineas said as he replaced the oak leaf to his pocket and strode back to the smaller man. “Didn’t you say the honeybee might be a clue as to the family it came from?”
Mishra’s dark features tensed and he glanced away.
A shiver of anticipation raced across Phin’s nape. He narrowed his gaze. “Did you discover the family name? It could help me,” he urged, noting the other man’s obvious reluctance.
Mishra met his questioning gaze. “I shouldn’t tell you.”
“Why not? You just said they are the only ones who could have the true story about the necklace.”
“I would not have this thing bring the curse back to their blood. Many generations have passed and the many descendants have finally found some peace in this world.”
Suspicion sparked. Phin eyed the other man with a sharp stare. “You know them.”
Mishra bobbled his head in a nervous gesture very unlike him, but he did not deny it.
“You must trust me,” Phin asserted. “The more I know, the more prepared I can be to defend against the threats that come with it.”
Mishra sighed and pressed his palms together beneath his chin as he whispered reverently, “Forgive me.” Then he added in a hushed tone, “It is a royal family that goes back countless generations into ancient history. A family with many, many descendants. One of whom—the beloved daughter of a powerful raja—was married to a British lord. The Rajkumari became the Duchess of Keldbrook and lived here in London until her death just over six months ago.” He took a lengthy pause.
His dark eyes staring intently into Phin’s as his voice dropped to a low, reverberating tone.
“I don’t know what karmic forces have already been awakened…
but her granddaughter is the lady you met the other day in my shop. ”
A shock of lightning jolted through Phineas as the image of Lady Eleanor’s lovely face flew through his mind’s eye. “You don’t mean…”
Phineas was stunned by the rare chance that he should receive the necklace in an unexpected package within days of meeting a woman descended from its historic origins. The coincidence was…incomprehensible.
“I would not wish you to drag the Rajkumari’s granddaughter into this cursed story,” Mishra admitted. “But she may be the only person to have the information you seek.”
“I will take every precaution. I swear.”
The smaller man’s stare was weighted with fear and concern.
Then he reluctantly nodded and released him.
“I must be gone. I’ve too many curses attached to my bloodline to add another,” he noted with another bobble of his head before he added with more force, “Do what you must to end your possession of this artifact. It does not belong to you. Do not let’s its evil touch the young princess. ”
“I will not,” Phin replied in a firm vow. “You can trust me.”
Mishra’s stare bored into him, intent and focused. Then he issued a soft sound before turning away. “I will see myself out.”
Glancing down, Phin noted that the portrait was still spread across the liquor table. “Mishra, the painting,” he noted quickly, but a turn of his head saw the other man was already gone.
“Keep it,” Mishra’s voice echoed quietly from the hall beyond.
Phin sighed and lowered himself back into the chair.
Carefully lifting the parchment, he studied the image, noting the circling swarm of honeybees, the beautiful detail in the flora and fauna creating the border around the woman seated in the center.
Her sari was a vibrant red, her hair a gleaming black.
She appeared quite young, but clearly possessed an innate elegance in her regal, graceful posture.
Though her face was turned slightly to one side, he noted the loveliness of her profile and her dark eyes.
And for a second, he saw not a stranger in the image, but the familiar face and form of Lady Eleanor.
A frisson of half alarm, half intent awareness rippled through his body.
Studying the image even more closely, he couldn’t ignore how much it resembled Lady Eleanor. She could have sat for the portrait herself.
A fierce but subtle trepidation gripped him. The more he learned about the necklace, the more complicated the matter became.