Chapter 11
CHAPTER
TARRYTOWN
Elsa wasn’t surprised that Luke wanted to drive her directly to Tatiana’s cottage this morning since she wanted to return the borrowed dress. What she hadn’t expected was for the errand to turn into a social call that included Luke and Tom, too.
She ought to have, though. Tatiana was the most hospitable woman she’d ever met. And probably one of the loneliest.
“One of the Spaldings will arrive any moment to unlock the house, and then you’ll be off to work,” the older woman said. “But you might as well wait here with a cup of coffee rather than sit in your truck after driving all the way from the city.”
“Can’t argue with that.” Luke turned off the engine. “I noticed ours is the first vehicle here.” He checked his watch. “It’s a quarter to eight. Unless they arrive earlier than expected, too, I’d say we have at least fifteen minutes. We made good time this morning.”
The men and Barney exited the truck, and Tatiana warmly welcomed Tom, the newcomer.
Danielle left her tray of buttons on the porch to pet the dog’s soft fur.
What an interesting, beautiful group of people Elsa had found herself among.
Birds of a feather may flock together, but each one here was wonderfully distinct, and they flocked together just fine.
Their fifteen-minute coffee date beneath the ash tree stretched to twenty minutes when no Spalding came, then twenty-five, and no one seemed to mind.
The extra time gave Elsa a chance to witness George drop off a gift on the porch railing.
Danielle, who had gone back to her button sorting, held it up, announcing it was a broken piece of a pocket watch chain.
When the crow flapped away, Elsa turned her attention back to Tatiana. “Would you tell us the story of how you and your husband came to work here?”
“That old tale?” She shook her head but looked pleased to have been asked.
“I’d like to hear it, too,” Luke said, and Tom nodded his agreement.
Tatiana took another sip of coffee. “Actually, it was Mrs. Van Tessel’s idea.”
When Elsa gaped, the woman chuckled, then continued.
“Thirty years ago, Mr. and Mrs. Van Tessel had been touring the Austro-Hungarian Empire together. He was hunting for relics to add to his collection. When they visited the Franciscan monastery in Dubrovnik, she fell in love with the gardens there. She insisted upon meeting the head groundskeeper to pay him her compliments personally. That groundskeeper was my husband.”
“Was he a monk at the time?” Tom asked.
“Oh no, we had been married five years already. Certainly monks helped on the grounds, but the monastery employed outside workers, too. I was present for that first meeting with the Van Tessels and still remember her lavish praise.”
Luke asked if she knew English already or if there had been a translator.
“I knew enough to understand the gist,” Tatiana explained.
“We had been studying it with the help of a fellow gardener from England. We loved the work at the monastery, but there was so much political and economic upheaval during that time in our country. We both wanted to be ready if an opportunity ever came to immigrate to America. We wanted to live in a place with more stability, especially if God ever blessed us with children.”
With gently prompting questions, she continued the story.
Mrs. Van Tessel had been absolutely charmed by the Petrovics.
Tatiana was twenty-five years old, her husband ten years her senior.
He’d been the son of the master groundskeeper at the monastery, so he had grown up learning the skills and catching the passion for it.
A few days later, Mr. Van Tessel concluded his business at the monastery by asking the Petrovics to come work wonders at his own New York estate.
He pointed out that New York and Croatia shared a similar latitude on the globe, so the climates should also be similar.
The Petrovics didn’t hesitate to accept.
“I always suspected Mrs. Van Tessel was behind that offer,” Tatiana added.
“But clearly Mr. Van Tessel admired my husband’s work on the monastery grounds, as well, and wanted his expertise in his own employ.
Mr. Van Tessel took care of everything necessary to bring us over. For that, I’ll always be grateful.”
Now it made even more sense that Birdie felt responsible for the Petrovics’ well-being. It had likely been her idea to suggest the life-altering path that put an ocean between them and everything and everyone they’d known before.
A Cadillac drove slowly by on its way toward the mansion, signaling their time was over. Elsa drank the last of her coffee, grown cold by now, and stood to go.
“Tatiana,” she said. “You said Mr. Van Tessel was on a relic-hunting tour. Did he acquire anything from the monastery? The aviary, perhaps?”
Smiling, the older woman finished placing the coffee cups on a tray. “Yes. That aviary is Croatian. Like we are.”
No wonder Birdie thought it should belong to them.
More than ever, Elsa hoped they would find it.
Elsa spent the morning in the secret den with the door propped open to the rest of the library for light. While she sat at Linus’s desk and went through more of his files, Luke and Tom wrapped panels of wainscoting in protective padding, then hauled them to the delivery truck.
As Barney was banished outside in order to protect the birds in the house, Danielle had volunteered to take him for long walks through the grounds.
In the meantime, Elsa waded through more eugenics records until she found two things that actually interested her.
The first was the provenance document for an aviary, which must be the one that had been willed to Danielle.
Just as Tatiana said, it had come from the Franciscan monastery in Dubrovnik, sold to Mr. Van Tessel in June 1896.
According to this document, the aviary had been one of many created on site in the scriptorium. This one had been completed in 1389.
The monastery must have needed the cash for them to sell such a precious book, and the fact that there were other copies had likely made it easier for them to part with it.
The amount Mr. Van Tessel had paid was listed as a foreign currency, and she had no idea how that translated to US dollars.
But she tucked the document into her satchel.
If the aviary was found at Elmhurst, the Petrovics would need this provenance to go with it.
That was something, anyway. Perhaps the aviary was even here in this room.
With renewed energy, Elsa searched the desk and bookcase. She didn’t find the aviary, but she did come across another notebook chronicling an ornithological expedition.
“Bingo!” she said, though no one was there to hear her.
If the Spalding siblings weren’t here today, she would’ve taken it back to the dining hall to parse through it there.
But the last thing she wanted was to be distracted by Jane, so she remained in the den, adjusted the knob on the kerosene lamp, and pulled out her own notebook in which to copy specimen data.
It was past her usual lunchtime before she noticed her stomach growling. As if on cue, Luke and Tom returned, carrying small packages wrapped in waxed paper.
“Ham or turkey?” Luke asked. “Or roast beef?”
“What?”
“You didn’t bring lunch, or at least not enough for us to notice. Tom went to the village deli and picked these up for us. What’s your pleasure?”
“Turkey, thank you.” She stood and accepted the sandwich. “Lunch is on me next time. Shall we eat out in the courtyard?”
“Sounds nice.” Luke unwrapped the ham sandwich he was left with. “But I’m going to finish this off in less than a minute, and then I have a date with a tunnel.”
“Really?” Elsa hadn’t been sure he’d really try it out, and as it had no bearing on anyone’s priorities here, save her own curiosity, she hadn’t planned to remind him.
“I told you I would. Might as well get it done now before you’re tempted to explore it yourself while you’re in here. Mind if I bless the food?” Luke said grace over the lunch, and then finished his off as quickly as he’d promised. “We’ll have to move the desk again.”
“Of course.” Elsa moved the chair and stood back while the men carried the desk out of the way. That being done, Luke pulled a skein of rope from his back pocket and tied a loop around his waist. The other end he handed to Tom.
“This way we can measure how long the tunnel is. Plus, if there are any forks in it or I don’t come out through the other side, I’ll be able to find my way back.”
“Oh good,” Tom said. “I thought you meant for me to pull you out by the rope if you lost consciousness from lack of air.”
“Well, that too, I suppose, if the rope stops moving. Or at least you could follow the rope in to find me yourself and then toss me over your shoulder.”
Tom blanched.
With a wry grin, Luke clapped his shoulder. “I fully intend to walk out, one way or another. All you have to do is hold on to the end.”
“What happens if I get to the end of the rope and you’re still pulling?” Tom asked.
Luke rubbed his jaw. “I’ll untie myself and keep going. That’s better than pulling it out of your hands and moving about with a tail, I suppose.”
Elsa swallowed. “If it becomes dangerous, abort the mission and come on back.” He was doing this to satisfy her whim. That wasn’t a good enough reason to risk his safety.
“We’ll see. Enjoy your lunch. I’ll be back soon, I’m sure.” Flashlight in hand, he ducked into the passage and disappeared.
She held her breath, listening to his footsteps until they receded to nothing—which didn’t take long. Wide-eyed, she looked to Tom, watching the rope unspool at Luke’s pace.
He chuckled. “He’s a former fighter pilot, Elsa. And before that, he drove ambulances over rough terrain, often under enemy fire. I don’t do tunnels, but he doesn’t mind them. He won’t abort the mission.”