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“To be sure, I couldn’t say. It’s all being dealt with. I inherited the castle, and my cousin in Nottingham, Harry McGregor, inherited a small estate up there. It’s possible he knows of something, though, like me, he sent everything that seemed historic to the museum. They were very interested, even though Sir Edmund Herbert, it turns out, was an illegitimate son.” She lifted a plate of cookies. “Biscuit?”
Remi declined. Sam took one. “Thank you.”
She returned the plate to the center of the table. “The only proof I have that my cousin and I are actually related is an old family bible that was among the items given to me. If I’ve read the lineage correctly, he and I are the second cousins of the last-known male heir.”
“These historical items,” Sam said. “Is there some sort of list of what they are?”
“There is. Would you like to see it?”
“We would.”
She rose from the table, crossed the room, and picked up a manila envelope from a secretary in the corner that was cluttered with bills and paperwork for the farm. She pulled a sheaf of papers from the envelope and handed it to Sam as she took a seat. “Not that you can tell much. It’s all up for auction, and I believe they’re going to have photos of everything. I don’t yet have them.”
Remi leaned over, glanced at the papers as Sam looked them over. “That’s quite the list,” Remi said.
“Imagine someone like me putting a harpsichord in this parlor. Or a suit of armor. Even if I had room. Better to sell it and provide for the farm. I did keep a few items, however.”
“Oh?” Remi said.
“This tea set, for one. It’s quite lovely.”
Remi ran
her finger over the delicate edge of her saucer. “It is.”
“There were also a few paintings.” She pointed toward two small pastoral landscapes on the wall hung on either side of a coat of arms. “They didn’t seem too outlandish for a simple farmhouse. The family crest, however. Vanity, plain and simple. It’s not every day you find out you’re distantly related to the illegitimate son of some lord, even if that son’s father was only a minor land baron. And then just below it on the wall is the leather shield that dates back to Sir Herbert’s time. I kept it mainly because that engraving of the Celtic knot in the center is so pretty.”
Remi lowered her teacup to the table. “Would you mind if I took a closer look?”
“Help yourself.”
Remi wandered over as Sam turned the page, noting there were several cartons of miscellaneous items listed. “These boxes,” he said. “Any idea what was in them?”
“Just odds and ends. A lot of papers, books, and one box looked like someone had dismantled a suit of armor into it. The appraiser thought some of it might be historically significant. Which is why my cousin and I decided to lend the entire collection to the British Museum in London. Whether or not anything there is of any real value, I couldn’t say . . . More tea?” she said, noting that Sam’s cup was nearly empty.
“No thank you.”
She refilled her own cup. “Not that we’re rich. We just have no need of anything. We’d rather see the artifacts go to the museum than end up in private collections. They’re having some gala fund-raiser there this coming weekend and they wanted to include it in their display.”
“A fund-raiser?” Remi asked, returning to her seat. “We should go.”
“Sold out, I’m afraid,” Grace said. “Has been for weeks.”
“Too bad,” Sam said. “Any chance you’d allow us to look at those items prior to the event?”
“Of course. I’ll give you the name of the person at the museum.”
She read off the name and number for the contact information, which Sam entered into his phone. They spoke a few minutes longer, then, when it was clear there was nothing more to be learned, they thanked her for her hospitality.
On their way out, Sam paused by the paintings hanging on the wall near the door. He didn’t recognize the name of the artists. The coat of arms, however, intrigued him, and he turned to her, asking, “You wouldn’t mind if we took a photo of this, would you?”
“Not at all.”
Sam used his phone to snap a couple of shots, checking to make sure he had a clear photo to forward to Selma, both of the family crest and the round leather shield hanging below it. The interlacing Celtic knot engraved on the convex brass boss at the center of the shield seemed at odds with the definite English heritage on the family crest hanging above it, but if anyone could make sense of that, Selma could. Some of the symbols engraved on the shield boss were worn from age, and the flash washed out what could be seen, and so he tried without the flash. Unfortunately, the room was too dark, but he could read the heraldry on the crest to some extent. Enough for Selma to work from, at least. “Thanks again,” Sam said as he slipped his phone into his pocket.
She opened the door for them, smiling. “It was a pleasure. I’m sorry my husband wasn’t here to meet you. Suddenly discovering a fence that needed mending, don’t you know. I think he was a bit put off by our visitors yesterday.”
“Visitors?” Remi asked.