Chapter 20 Magellan
Magellan
Only when she was playing music did she feel truly alive and fearless.
Now she would have to draw upon that power.
The song had been split into six parts and hidden in time.
She held one part and Garesh’s ring had brought her here on the eve of global destruction to retrieve the other four.
She could almost feel Garesh beside her, whispering words of encouragement.
Magellan searched her mind for who it could be.
She had studied the greats—both men and women.
Although only men were ascribed as the canon, the “columns” that held up the symphonic traditions.
Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, Mozart, Strauss, Bach, Brahms, Mendelssohn .
. . Only men’s music had been allowed to soar and spread wings around the world.
But Garesh had made her also pay close attention to the women who were only now being unearthed and celebrated.
Then Juilliard had rounded out her education with some of the best scholars in the world intent on shining a light on our musical past.
Certainty filled her with who it was. Felix Mendelssohn, the famous composer from Germany, had a sister, Fanny—and Fanny was just as much of a prodigy as he was.
Felix even assigned his name to several of Fanny’s songs so they could be published.
Only later in life did Fanny shock society and start publishing her music herself.
Fanny Mendelssohn. It had to be her. In 1829 Felix had come to England for the first time and conducted his music in a concert. The siblings were very close. Fanny could be in London with her brother.
Magellan had no idea how far away London was, but somehow she needed to get there—and she needed Rhys to finish translating the rest of the diary. She needed all of Gwynedd’s instruction.
Galvanized with newfound purpose, in the morning when Polly came to help her, Magellan rushed to get ready and hurried downstairs to breakfast. She was surrounded by well-wishers who were relieved her accident had been minor.
She politely declined the group’s offer to ride to the lake, saying she was still recovering. She planned to go to the library.
At breakfast she sat next to Vivianne and caught Rhys’s searching gaze. He declined the morning ride too and offered to escort her. It seemed Lord Erickson was already in the library and could act as chaperone.
When they arrived, Lord Erickson was sitting in the far corner at one of the long tables. He had Rhys’s translation spread out and was handling the diary with gloves like a serious archivist.
Magellan stopped and pulled Rhys back from walking any farther into the room. She whispered in shock, “You’re letting him read the diary?”
He whispered back, “I couldn’t stop him. He’s an expert in ancient texts and wouldn’t stop pestering me.”
“Fine,” she said, even though it wasn’t. “Just please finish translating it today.”
He searched her eyes and slowly shook his head. “No. I won’t translate anymore until you tell me your circumstance.”
“That wasn’t our agreement.”
“I’ve changed my mind. I’ve had quite enough of Gwynedd’s tall tale. Whoever the author was has veered into pure lunacy. Atlantis indeed. A lost guardian at Stonehenge. A war with other worlds.” He finished with a fierce whisper. “It’s utter poppycock!”
With a sinking heart, Magellan listened to him vent. He’d been the one having to translate every word, and he was obviously done.
Rhys strode to the tea tray and surprised her by pouring her a cup. He added cookies to a napkin. “For your pockets,” he said, giving her the cookies, and then he set the tea down in front of her. He busied himself making a cup.
She looked from the tea to the cookies to him, at a loss. She would have to tell him the truth and show him Godwin’s letter. There was no other alternative. The time for pretending was over. She needed him to believe.
She glanced over to Lord Erickson, who was still across the room and absorbed in reading.
Rhys said in a low voice, “I’m not translating another word until you tell me everything.” He cocked an imperious brow, leaned back, and took a sip of his tea.
She never had a chance to reply because the countess arrived breathless in the doorway. “Miss Brighton, your father has arrived!”
“My father?” Magellan was sure she misheard her.
Rhys’s mother nodded and said fretfully to Rhys, “Terrance Brighton is in zee salon right now.” She lowered her voice so Lord Erickson could not overhear and went on to say, “Apparently, he has been looking all over zee countryside for her. I invited him to stay as our guest, but he insists zhey leave today. He vas most adamant.” The countess turned to her with tearful eyes.
“Polly is upstairs vaiting to help you change into a traveling gown.”
Rhys dropped his tea cup with a clatter. “A traveling gown! She’s leaving?” he whispered in disbelief.
Magellan’s whole body started to quiver. She felt like she was going to faint. What was happening? Who was Terrance Brighton?
Rhys’s mother led her from the room. She lowered her voice further to whisper in confidence, “Forgive me, I did not know he vould be coming.”
Magellan nodded, resisting the urge to run. She grabbed on to the only plan that made sense: She needed to get back to the center of the labyrinth right away.