A Gift of Garnets

April, 1815, Willoughby Hall, London, England

“Alice, look here! Come! I need to show you something!” Cecelia George called, as she proceeded to jimmy the lock inside the desk. “Can you please lend me one of your hair pins?” 

Alice Montague, was Cecelia’s best friend and confidante, since school days, and, whilst she hated the idea of a scandal and being dragged into one of Cecelia’s latest schemes, she was, secretly up for adventure. Cecelia could always count on Alice – and, now was particularly one of those times.

Alice snagged her pin from her bun and walked softly on the carpeted floor so as not to create any cause for creaking, Cecelia noticed. Her own movements had been guarded, and she knew Alice and she each had to keep voices to a whisper. The house party was in full swing downstairs, and dinner was to be served upon the hour. Never mind that Cecelia and Alice needed to join their partners for the meal. Neither woman had ever met their dates for the evening – something that was set up by the manor owner, Lady Beatrice Willoughby. Lady Beatrice always had good intentions regarding matchmaking, but the end results left a lot to be desired. It was anyone’s guess what would transpire tonight. Alice was due to meet, purportedly, a Marquis, and Cecelia, well, she would just have to ‘settle’ for a duke. In her experience – especially, where matchmaking was concerned – dukes were older, entitled, and, indeed, ogres. She would never have the independence she craved. Would never aspire to that coveted spot of ‘Historian’ for the British Library – making speeches, traveling, writing, etc. But who was to say this evening? Perhaps, the duke was not an ogre after all. Right now, though, she would savor the few minutes of independence she had left to find what was behind lock and key in Lady Beatrice’s desk.

Lady Beatrice had invited Cecelia and Alice and their families to this house party and had given the women the best rooms in the house – undoubtedly to butter them up for the matches that were forthcoming. Building these men up to be greater than they actually are. But, again, who was to say? Cecelia, in dressing for dinner, had sat down to apply her makeup and coif her hair and, then, had planned to write a bit in her journal. She had forgotten her writing implement at her parents’ house (it was in her own desk, in a pretty, ornate box, too! Something she used often and cherished). In her haste to meet the carriage, she had overlooked the pen. No matter, she thought. Surely, Lady Beatrice had one.  

A twist and a turn with Alice’s hair pin revealed a surprising but welcome site beyond the secret desk door. Cecelia thought she had heard a little crackling when she tried to open the drawers, but it did not sound like a pen. It sounded like two drawers in one. With a little jerk the door popped open, and down fell the most beautiful gold, pearl and garnet necklace she had ever seen.

Both women gasped at once.

“Would you look at that!?” Cecelia exclaimed.

“My word, it is gorgeous!” Alice reacted.

Alice and Cecelia together fingered the string of pearls and reviewed the garnets studiously. It looked, indeed, like a museum piece, but what was it doing in this old desk? Which, coincidentally, had been a family heirloom. Lady Beatrice and her husband, Lord John Willoughby were global travellers and frequent, avid collectors. It was always a mystery where they went and what they would bring back next. But, suffice it to say, much history emerged from the mysteries, and the manor home was replete with centuries of decorative arts from famous time periods and families. How Lord and Lady Willoughby managed to find and keep these items – much like the mystery surrounding Lord Elgin and his Marbles – was itself a question. 

“Do you think we should apprise Lady Beatrice?” Cecelia asked.

“She probably knows it is in there,” Alice answered.

“Perhaps, but my belief is that Lady Beatrice and Lord John abscond with these things in such a hurry that they barely have time to check the contents. Surely, there are letters that prove some items are officially approved to remove, but I doubt all are.”

“Well, then,” Alice cautioned, “perhaps, we should put it back.”

Cecelia was thoughtful for a moment but stated resolutely, “no, I want to wear this piece tonight. I think, mayhap, this piece might just be the key to finding a husband tonight. Someone who is handsome, with title as well as caring, loving, and wealthy. Someone who wants me for me and will allow my independence. I do not want a potential husband to take pity on me, thinking I have no jewels to my name. Can you please help me put this on, Alice?”

Alice came over to the desk and, with reverent hands, helped Cecelia affix the clasp. This necklace was unique – no, not just unique, it was a piece of art. Whose necklace and whose provenance would need to be sorted later. But both women knew what they saw and what they had in their hands – now around Cecelia’s neck – was priceless. And, it would connote power and influence on the wearer.

“There, Cecelia, the necklace is in place. Do you need anything else?”

Cecelia thought a moment and, then, responded, “no thank you, Alice. I think it is time to make our entrances. And, Godspeed to you.”

“Godspeed to you, as well, Cecelia. I think we will all need to celebrate when the Season is over. And, hopefully, we can thank Lady Beatrice for our futures.”

“Indeed, Alice,” Cecelia confirmed, not really looking at anything special but lost in her thoughts, as she put her second glove on her hand. Then, she added, importantly, “and the necklace. A serendipitous find, surely.”

The two women hugged and, after some additional well-wishes, proceeded singularly down the spiral stair steps to the ballroom where dinner of lobster and a risotto dish would be served presently. Lady Beatrice and Lord John would spare no expense. Now, to find the couple to be introduced to their future spouses.

Alice was quickly shown to her match and, after a bit of uncomfortable banter with an expected, older gentleman, was led away, arm and arm for some lemonade and, presumably a dance or two later (the supper dance was promised as well).

Cecelia, though, faced a challenge. Lady Beatrice and Lord John could not find Cecelia’s match anywhere – having searched the library, the portico, the grounds, or even, it shall be said, the bedrooms. Cecelia decided to take matters into her own hands and walked around the halls on the main floor herself. She spied a faint light emanating from Lord John’s office, and she decided to push the door open (after knocking, of course). 

“Hello?” she called.

No response.

“Hello? Is there anyone here? We are searching for a Montcalm. The Duke of Montcalm.”

There was no response to that. 

Until there was.

A tall man, well-built, dark hair, in his 30s, stood up from the chinoiserie-and-cherry-wood chair. The back of the chair was so tall that Cecelia had missed him at first. She had no response other than to stand and stare.

“Madam, I beg your pardon. Is there something amiss?” The man asked. He was holding a piece of paper and a book. On that paper were precise drawings of a necklace – much like she was wearing. And the book, well the book was open to a portrait of Catherine de Medici. Cecelia would know that portrait anywhere. Catherine was wearing...the same necklace!

“Sir, sorry to interrupt. I did not realize you were here. I saw the light on, and, I, well…actually, no, I was searching for Gregory, the Duke of Montcalm.”

“I am he.” Gregory bowed. “May I help you?” He smiled roguishly. “You have found me, it seems.”

“Your Grace,” and Cecelia curtsied. “I am told that I was to meet you this evening for dinner. It seems we are…well, destined, is how Lady Beatrice put it.”

Gregory put paper and book down on the side table and walked around the chair toward Cecelia, taking her trembling hands in his. He touched her neck and ran his strong fingers along the necklace. Then, he looked up at Cecelia, his gaze equally strong.

“My dear, do you know what this is?” he whispered.

“I know it is worth a great deal to someone, and I was intending to have it priced. I found it in Lady Beatrice’s desk. I mean, well, It belongs in a museum.”

“Ah, and you thought you just might wear it one night in the hope of impressing me,” Gregory chided.

Silence.

“Yes, you have the right of it,” Cecelia whispered back.

“Well, my dear Cecelia, that desk was in the Medici family, and passed down to me. I gave that desk to Lady Beatrice, and I had always hoped that the stories I read were true. That Catherine de Medici had hidden this necklace (hopefully, in that desk!) when her life was threatened as a teenager. No one had found it. Until now.”

“It seems too good to be true,” Cecelia remarked.

“Miss George – Cecelia – I had given this desk to my aunt, Lady Beatrice, in the hope that whoever was able to open this desk – or who had the gumption to try – would find this necklace. And, whoever found the necklace, would realize its value and, to me. And the woman who found the necklace was destined to be my wife. I think Lady Beatrice knew you would find this.”

“Your Grace…”

“Gregory, please.”

“Gregory, what is the story of the necklace? How does it relate to you and me?”

“Cecelia, this necklace was given to Catherine by her lover, Henry of Orleans, at the time a prince. They were betrothed and ultimately wed at the age of 14, in a power match that finally became one of love. In fact, he and she were so in love, and he had it made for her, piece by piece, gem by gem. She promised to keep the necklace by keeping it safe, and the only way to do that was to hide, in a way, in plain sight. It is a necklace that has traveled time and distance to reach us here this evening. I, for one, would like to keep it on display. On your neck. And you. With me.”

Cecelia was shocked but, in a way, pleasantly surprised. Nothing about this house party was as expected. And her match? Well, it seemed meant to be, and the necklace was just the beginning. Cecelia and Gregory edged closer together until they locked in a passionate kiss before deciding it was time to show for dinner. Necklace and all. Hand in hand. As they walked, Gregory leaned into Cecelia’s ear.

   “Cecelia, let’s keep this our secret, hmm? Catherine is my direct ancestor, and I am certain this necklace has been found for a reason.”

   “To bring us together. As a clasp of a necklace.”

   Gregory winked. “Indeed.”

The End