Chapter Five
“H ow are things?” Delia waved at Sandra, who was sitting at her desk with a deepening scowl.
“Johnny Snow’s hogging the ultra-centrifuge, and he is so bloody slooow.” Sandra was in the midst of a series of experiments and patience wasn’t her strong point.
“Maybe once the new funding comes through, we’ll get another ultra-centrifuge. What do you think?” Delia dipped her head toward her friend.
Sandra snorted. “I think it’s definitely a high-risk strategy by John Winter to put that dosser in charge of making the funding application. I bet a month’s salary he’ll fuck it up somehow.”
The dosser in question was John Winter’s nephew of the same name. In order to keep the two Johns apart, John Winter the Younger was generally referred to as Johnny Snow.
He didn’t quite have the looks of the actor from the TV show Game of Thrones , but a resemblance was definitely there. He was also of about the same height.
Delia chuckled. She shared Sandra’s estimation of John’s nephew, even though she didn’t voice it quite so brutally.
But Sandra could be relied on to call a spade a spade.
She’d come over for her post-doc from Germany and was blazing a trail through Renwood University’s biochemistry lab not just in terms of science.
With her blonde hair and blue eyes, she fitted the cliché of a German some people insisted on cleaving to.
To the chagrin of a few of her nastier colleagues, her stature didn’t justify the label ‘Valkyrie’ although they’d been itching to use it.
But no hope there, as even Johnny Snow towered over her.
Grudgingly, they had decided to settle for ‘Sandra, The Pushy Kraut.’
Delia had offered to have a word with the team to put a stop to it, but Sandra had refused, determined to fight her own battles. It worried Delia, and she was certain she only knew half of what her friend had to put up with.
Most people kept their thoughts about the German scientist to themselves when Delia was around, since Professor Winter relied on her to run the lab smoothly.
“You collated the last application, didn’t you?” Sandra asked.
Delia rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes, such a horrendous time suck. I convinced John Winter I wouldn’t be able to help him with the Renwood Longevity Project if my schedule was taken up with compiling the funding application.
Now I’m beginning to think I would’ve been better off slaving away on the grant application than having to chase Renwood DNA. ”
Sandra perked up. “He’s sending you back to the earl?”
“Yes.” Delia suppressed a groan. “Tomorrow, I’ll have the dubious pleasure of becoming acquainted with the inside of the Renwood family vault.
” She’d have to face Gabriel again, in all his beauty and heavy sadness.
Should she ask Sandra to accompany her? No.
Bad enough that she was John Winter’s dogsbody; it wouldn’t be fair to drag her friend into the mix.
“The earl asked you to go down there with him?” Sandra blinked at her. “Is he pissed off?”
“No, no.” She waved her hand. “He’s fine. I offered because I feel horrible for making him crack open another ancestor casket.”
Sandra sighed. “You’ve such a soft heart, Delia. And nobody knows it but me. Me and the seventh Earl of Renwood.”
Delia scoffed. “With that many financial problems to sort out, I doubt he has the mental bandwidth to marvel at the softness of my heart.”
Sandra raised one eyebrow. “Yeah right. The man bends over backward to give you all the ancestor DNA you need but never thinks about you. Sounds plausible.
Delia tapped the desk. “You and your mad notions. If anything, he finds my constant requests annoying.”
“And yet he complies.” Sandra smirked.
Delia drew in a sharp breath. “Would you stop?”
Sandra lifted her head. “Oh, the ultra-centrifuge is free, finally.” She grabbed the tube with her sample and dashed across the room.
Delia took up the notes of her experiment and entered into the zone, happy that the availability of the centrifuge had delivered her from further talk about Gabriel. And not a moment too soon.
~ * ~
“Y ou’re still happy to do this?” Gabriel greeted her in front of the main entrance to Renwood Hall, with a frown that signaled concern. He probably thought Delia wasn’t up to the whole coffin-opening-and-teeth-extracting enterprise.
She squared her shoulders and took care to sound cheerful. “Absolutely.”
He let out a long breath. “All right then. The crypt is underneath the chapel, and the entrance to it is behind the east wing.”
“Ah, east wing, sure, lead the way.”
Together, they rounded the Hall and came to stand in front of a chapel built from the same honey-colored stone like the main house, its door tucked away under a pillared portico. Arched windows and a small clock tower completed the baroque facade.
He withdrew a comically large iron key from the pocket of his coat and unlocked the tall oak door, eliciting a clunk from the ancient lock. He dragged the massive door open, and she entered the bright and ornate interior.
She tipped her head back to examine the sumptuous ceiling fresco: chubby angels lounging on clouds, a bunch of saints floating between rays of sunlight, and Christ, of course, presiding over the whole celestial crowd.
“Impressive,” she said, aware of Gabriel coming in behind her. “The artist in you must love owning such a building.”
“Yes, as long as I keep owning it. Sorry, didn’t mean to dampen the mood.”
She wasn’t sure what to reply so she remained silent. He had a lot on his mind. Averting financial ruin while trying to keep the show on the road couldn’t be easy.
He picked up a bag full of tools and pointed to a narrow stone staircase to the left of the chapel door. “That’s the entrance to the crypt.”
She came closer. “I appreciate you doing this, Gabriel.”
He put his free hand on her lower arm. “Don’t worry too much, Delia. We’ll get this over and done with, then your boss will leave you in peace.”
At least for a while . John Winter wasn’t known for being overly concerned with other people’s feelings, hang-ups, qualms, or moral reservations, for that matter. She sighed and followed Gabriel down the narrow stairs that led to another door which he unlocked with a slightly smaller iron key.
The musty stale air hit her, and she coughed. He looked over his shoulder with a question in his eyes, but she shook her head. “All okay.”
More steps burrowed even farther into the earth. She suppressed a shudder. He’d reached the bottom and switched on the light, revealing an ancient room with bare stone walls, filled from front to back with rows and rows of coffins.
She stumbled on the last tread and would’ve fallen face first on the flagstone floor if he hadn’t spun and caught her.
“Oof,” was the only sound she made when he crushed her against his chest .
Good reflexes, Lord Renwood . He had his arms around her in an embrace, and she clung to him.
Winded by her fall and not unaffected by the firm hold he had on her, she took a moment to collect herself. “I’m usually not that clumsy.”
“You’re not clumsy. I should have warned you. The last step is larger than the others—it’s a tripping hazard. I have to apologize.”
“All’s well. You caught me just in time.” She flicked a smile at him and left his arms. “Onward?”
“Yes, sure.” He grabbed the tool bag he’d dropped when he caught her and made his way to the back of the room.
There wasn’t much searching about since the third Countess of Renwood had presumably been laid to rest beside her husband.
He stopped in front of a small, elegant casket decorated with floral ornaments of oxidized brass.
She caught up with him and stooped to read the plaque at the base of the marble plinth the coffin rested upon. Lady Emmerentia Kirwan, née of Schwalenberg-Linderstadt, third Countess of Renwood.
There she was. Delia was almost sorry that they had to mutilate the ancient skeleton’s jaw to appease John Winter, who didn’t deserve any of this. With a sigh, she crouched beside Gabriel, who was rooting through his tool bag. “What can I do?”
He glanced at her, the corners of his mouth tilting up. “Just moral support for the time being. We should probably wear these.” He handed her a face mask. “It can get, er, dusty.”
She put the mask on while he applied a spanner to the corroded fastenings of the casket. The first bolt gave way, and she flinched. An outsider observing them would be forgiven for thinking they were vandalizing an exhibit in a museum.
But no, all privately owned. His very own great-great-great-great grannie’s remains to desecrate, at her request. Her cheeks flared with heat, and she hoped he’d be too distracted to notice. To subdue her guilt, she concentrated on his long, slender fingers dealing with centuries’ old fastenings.
He straightened. “Now for the most uncomfortable part.”
“Let me, uh, do something.”
His brows knitted. “Could you help me push the lid to the side? It doesn’t have to come off entirely. I only need a gap large enough to get at the skull.”
She steeled herself. This was her opportunity to prove she was a valiant, grave-desecrating companion, since she had put him up to it. “No problem.” She took hold of the rim and pushed together with him. The lid screeched to the side.
“That should be enough,” he said, reaching once more into the tool bag. “Could you shine the flashlight into the crevice? You don’t have to look, but I need the extra light.”
“Yes, yes of course.” She took the flashlight from him and angled it to shine into the gap they’d created.
He bent, searched for the pliers but stopped mid-motion. She concentrated on his face rather than inside of the coffin.
He inhaled sharply. “Oh my God, I don’t believe this.”
“What? Is it empty?”
“No not empty, but I found something unexpected.” He leaned deeper into the casket then raised his head, his blue eyes triumphant.
She swallowed. In his hands he held the most ridiculously magnificent piece of jewelry she’d ever seen—seven tear-shaped emeralds suspended from a string of cherry-sized diamonds. Each green gem was surrounded by smaller diamonds.
The sparkle and glimmer were mesmerizing even in the dim light of the naked light bulbs. “What a stunning necklace to put in a coffin. This is crazy.”
“He buried her with it. It was never lost; it was here all this time.”
“Is it real?” she asked.
“Not sure. If this is the diamond and emerald necklace that was part of her trousseau and not a replica...”
“You could sell it.”
“Yes, oh my God, yes. We may just have discovered the means to save Renwood Hall in Emmy’s casket.” He caught her eye, and they giggled like excited children.
She regained her composure first. “Good thing I went with you. I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”
He came nearer, and for a moment, it seemed as if he wanted to put the jewels around her neck. She had to be hallucinating in this musty air; lack of oxygen probably.
He cleared his throat. “Could you hold this for a minute while I get the teeth?”
She exhaled slowly and held out her hands. He placed the cold necklace on her upturned palms and reached into the crevice to extract the teeth they’d come for. Small cracking sounds made her wince, but she was grateful for his sacrifice.
He dropped the teeth into his pocket.
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Let’s close this thing, and get away.”
“I’m afraid I need to screw the lid on properly before we leave. I don’t fancy coming down here on my own, to be honest.”
“Yes, of course.” She laid the jewels on the marble plinth before helping him push the lid into its original position.
She tore off her mask, and he did the same with his. Link by link, she lifted the necklace from the stone and held it reverently in both hands while he fastened the bolts.
He straightened and snapped up the tool bag. “Done.”
“Yes, and thank goodness.”
They shared a shaky laugh and stared at each other like two survivors of a minor catastrophe. No way would she ever make him do this again. John Winter and his Renwood Longevity Project could go hang.
Together, they ascended the stairs, and Gabriel locked the door to the crypt behind them.
Once outside the chapel, she gulped in the fresh air. “What do you want me to do with these?” She lifted Emmerentia’s jewels.
“Let’s do a straight swap.” He took the teeth from his pocket, wrapped them into a handkerchief and held them out to her while placing the palm of his other hand underneath hers.
“Excellent idea.” She let the necklace slide off her hands into his, then took the handkerchief with the DNA sample from him. They walked around the building and stopped in front of the main entrance in awkward silence.
He shifted from one foot to the other. “Can I offer you anything? A drink?”
“Oh, no thanks. I’m kind of desperate to head home and shower.”
He scraped his teeth over his bottom lip. “Understandable. I’ll do the same once I’ve locked the necklace in the safe.”
She tugged at the hem of her jacket and averted her gaze from his mouth. “I’ll see you at our next painting session.”
“Yes, see you then.”