lantern
swayed and clanked while she regained her footing. With relief she
saw at some yards ahead a boundary to the nightmarish woods. Beyond
lay an open grassy expanse broken only by four or five lofty fir
trees, their lower branches pruned away so they resembled immense
umbrellas spread beside a rectangular, three-story,
Italianate-style house. Like many such houses, its architectural
design included a square, central tower as though endeavoring to
pass itself off as a castle. Glynis thought she saw shadows flit
before candlelight in the tower's top dormer window, but she could
locate only a few scattered lights in what must be the first-floor
rooms. Otherwise the house was dark. The flat-roofed structure had
a forbidding presence, squatting there amongst the firs like a
great brooding beast.
Since she could not hear the sound of
hooves, or of anything else behind her, and since she refused to
remain one second longer in the forest primeval, she cautiously
went forward, but wondered how Cullen planned to explain her
appearance to the Brant family. As she neared the house, she again
tripped, stumbling over something at the edge of the drive. Her
balance restored, she took a cautious step forward only to have the
toe of her shoe strike something substantial. She pulled aside some
hemlock boughs and lowered the lantern, bending down to look more
closely at what might be just another branch. But what she saw
shining there in the gravel simply could not be. She straightened,
thinking that a rush of blood to the head might be causing
delusions. Setting the lantern down on the gravel, she slowly bent
over again. And then she stared, disbelieving, at what appeared to
be the largest diamond ever taken from a mine. About the size of
the palm of her hand, its facets sparkled in the lantern light like
that of a translucent jewel.
When Glynis picked it up, however, its sheer
heft told her that what she held was a crystal paperweight. They
had first become popular in Europe several decades before—American
glass factories today were hard pressed to keep up with demand—but
this one resembled pictures of paperweights made by the famed
Baccarat factory of France. Had she not been standing on the drive
of an extremely wealthy man, this would have seemed an absurd idea;
but it was not, she decided, any more absurd than finding the
crystal to begin with, lying in the gravel like a carelessly
discarded rock.
What was she to do with it? The small velvet
reticule looped over her arm was not sturdy enough to bear its
weight. Yet she could hardly just leave it there. It was not only
valuable, it was also somewhat dangerous should a horseshoe or
carriage wheel strike it. She transferred the paperweight to her
left hand and, picking up the lantern with her right, again
proceeded toward the house.
As she crossed what had become a formal,
brick drive, she spotted a small reddish glow—from a cigar or
cigarette?—beside one of the Corinthian columns of the front porch,
but then it disappeared. She gradually began to notice that she
didn't smell lilacs and iris and lilies of the valley; the late
spring had caused them to bloom concurrently, thus steeping the
entire village of Seneca Falls in their perfume. No such scent was
present here, nor were there any blossoming shrubs or flower beds
around the house. Instead, thick evergreen yews crowded against the
foundation walls.
Then, coming from the darkness, a hand shot
out to seize her left arm in a vise-like grip.
Glynis braced her feet in an attempt, a
futile one, to wrench loose from her captor, and in doing so nearly
lost the paperweight. But when she managed to shakily lift the
lantern, its light caught the glint of a gold belt buckle, which
for no good reason she found reassuring. "Who's there? And please
release my arm."
The man let her go, but stood his ground.
"What are you doing here?"
Glynis could smell tobacco on his breath, he
was that close to her, but her fear began to lessen,
swayed and clanked while she regained her footing. With relief she
saw at some yards ahead a boundary to the nightmarish woods. Beyond
lay an open grassy expanse broken only by four or five lofty fir
trees, their lower branches pruned away so they resembled immense
umbrellas spread beside a rectangular, three-story,
Italianate-style house. Like many such houses, its architectural
design included a square, central tower as though endeavoring to
pass itself off as a castle. Glynis thought she saw shadows flit
before candlelight in the tower's top dormer window, but she could
locate only a few scattered lights in what must be the first-floor
rooms. Otherwise the house was dark. The flat-roofed structure had
a forbidding presence, squatting there amongst the firs like a
great brooding beast.
Since she could not hear the sound of
hooves, or of anything else behind her, and since she refused to
remain one second longer in the forest primeval, she cautiously
went forward, but wondered how Cullen planned to explain her
appearance to the Brant family. As she neared the house, she again
tripped, stumbling over something at the edge of the drive. Her
balance restored, she took a cautious step forward only to have the
toe of her shoe strike something substantial. She pulled aside some
hemlock boughs and lowered the lantern, bending down to look more
closely at what might be just another branch. But what she saw
shining there in the gravel simply could not be. She straightened,
thinking that a rush of blood to the head might be causing
delusions. Setting the lantern down on the gravel, she slowly bent
over again. And then she stared, disbelieving, at what appeared to
be the largest diamond ever taken from a mine. About the size of
the palm of her hand, its facets sparkled in the lantern light like
that of a translucent jewel.
When Glynis picked it up, however, its sheer
heft told her that what she held was a crystal paperweight. They
had first become popular in Europe several decades before—American
glass factories today were hard pressed to keep up with demand—but
this one resembled pictures of paperweights made by the famed
Baccarat factory of France. Had she not been standing on the drive
of an extremely wealthy man, this would have seemed an absurd idea;
but it was not, she decided, any more absurd than finding the
crystal to begin with, lying in the gravel like a carelessly
discarded rock.
What was she to do with it? The small velvet
reticule looped over her arm was not sturdy enough to bear its
weight. Yet she could hardly just leave it there. It was not only
valuable, it was also somewhat dangerous should a horseshoe or
carriage wheel strike it. She transferred the paperweight to her
left hand and, picking up the lantern with her right, again
proceeded toward the house.
As she crossed what had become a formal,
brick drive, she spotted a small reddish glow—from a cigar or
cigarette?—beside one of the Corinthian columns of the front porch,
but then it disappeared. She gradually began to notice that she
didn't smell lilacs and iris and lilies of the valley; the late
spring had caused them to bloom concurrently, thus steeping the
entire village of Seneca Falls in their perfume. No such scent was
present here, nor were there any blossoming shrubs or flower beds
around the house. Instead, thick evergreen yews crowded against the
foundation walls.
Then, coming from the darkness, a hand shot
out to seize her left arm in a vise-like grip.
Glynis braced her feet in an attempt, a
futile one, to wrench loose from her captor, and in doing so nearly
lost the paperweight. But when she managed to shakily lift the
lantern, its light caught the glint of a gold belt buckle, which
for no good reason she found reassuring. "Who's there? And please
release my arm."
The man let her go, but stood his ground.
"What are you doing here?"
Glynis could smell tobacco on his breath, he
was that close to her, but her fear began to lessen,
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