Page 34 of Mirrors of the Past

Chapter Thirteen

Present

Who indeed was Viola? It was intriguing. And also a little embarrassing, because Ryan had had to tell her, Tegan, that her people from Pencradoc were called Laurie, Isolde and Medora. Tegan really felt she should have known that. But — ah! She did know there had been girls at Wheal Mount too.

It was worth a try and would show off a little bit of knowledge. ‘Might it have been one of the Wheal Mount girls? Elsie’s cousins?’

There was a flicker of a smile at the edge of Ryan’s lips and she knew immediately that she was wrong and he was going to impart a bit more knowledge to her . . . dammit!

‘The Wheal Mount girls were Clara, Mabel, Lucy and Nancy. No — Viola was Elsie’s friend Pearl’s sister. That “P” lady I couldn’t think of before. Pearl.’

‘American Pearl?’ Tegan was surprised — and a little disappointed in herself — she’d remembered that nugget of information, but didn’t know the names of Elsie’s siblings. Again, a quick mooch around the gift shop yesterday had offered up a postcard of Elton Lacy, one of the big stately homes in the area. She had picked it up, immediately drawn to it and curious to know more. It was tucked in her notebook today, as a sort of bookmark, and Tegan was suddenly awfully conscious it was there. It seemed like it would be an awesome place to visit . . .

It sure is!came that weird New York voice in her ear again.

Tegan pushed the odd feeling aside. Viola. Of course. Of course. Of course she was Pearl’s sister. She was the one who loved to dance and perform and travel . . .

She cleared her throat and lowered her eyes to her notebook. She was surprised to see her hands shaking a little. She really hoped Ryan hadn’t noticed that. But regardless . . . ‘I picked this up yesterday,’ she said. She slid the postcard out of her notebook and handed it, almost reluctantly, to him.

As he hesitated, then took the card, a vision came into her mind of a fair-haired girl sitting somewhere that looked like the inside of a church. The girl had clearly started the day with a complicated updo, but by now it was coming loose, her hair still threaded through with red and green ribbon. A dark-haired man turned and looked at her, and Tegan had the feeling that he was desperate to say something earth-shattering to her.

But then the image faded and was replaced with a picture of the two people in the middle of a snowy landscape, a horse behind them, and the man in nothing more than his shirt sleeves, riding breeches and long boots.

Tegan blinked the image away, her heart pounding. She’d always had a bit of an imagination, so it wasn’t surprising that the vibrant Viola had burst into her consciousness.

What was surprising was that the young man she had seen looked exactly like Ryan.

‘Where’s this? Oh — the Lacy,’ the modern-day Ryan said, jerking her back to the present.

‘Yes. I found it in our gift shop.’

‘I went on a visit last year,’ he said. ‘It’s way bigger than our two properties put together. I hear they had some fantastic parties there. Midsummer balls and things.’

‘Like — um — wedding celebrations as well?’ asked Tegan. ‘Perhaps like Elsie’s?’

‘No idea.’ Ryan passed the postcard back to her. ‘But if you recall, Elsie got married in London, so I guess any celebration she had was based at her home down there.’

‘Ah.’ Again, she flushed. ‘So should we not do the solstice wedding thing? I don’t want any Elsie purists complaining.’ For the first time, she began to doubt herself and her idea. Maybe Merryn had been right about the World War I thing . . .

Ryan looked at her oddly. ‘I can’t see any reason why we shouldn’t do it. As long as we specify that the wedding was in London, because she lived in Brunswick Square.’

‘How did you know that was her address?’ asked Tegan, hoping, wildly, that he had had a weird moment as well.

‘It’s on her letters,’ Ryan replied smoothly.

‘Ah.’

There was silence for a moment.

Then Ryan spoke again. ‘Want to see what else I have in here? I think there’s something else just at the bottom . . .’

Tegan shrugged. Why not? He took her silence for consent and suddenly grinned. It changed his whole face from a moody emo/goth person to a handsome, cheerful . . . man. One she felt she could actually — like.

No. She couldn’t think of him like that. The image she had just imagined had thrown her and it was Horrible Ryan here. No matter what he looked like, they would never be friends. Colleagues would be more than enough. She had to basically be polite until this exhibition was over.

She made herself wonder, in fact, whether Angelo would like to come and visit soon — maybe he’d enjoy it. Perhaps he’d like to see where she was living. Meet her family. Stay at Pencradoc for a little while . . .

Force thoughts of a smiling Ryan out of her head, because goodness, Ryan in a shirt and boots and that smile . . .