The Renaissance of the Skein

By Elizabeth Schaeffer

Ann, seer of skeins in the auras and patterns of love, hate, envy, greed, admirationall the human emotions in other wordsis still learning the ins and outs of these weaves when she marries Allen Herrick, whom she (and, possibly, you) met when she met him earlier in The Skein. A very wise writer once wrote that books end, but stories never do.* This book begins as that book ends, with the marriage of Ann and Allen, who now live happily in the house he found for her in The Skein. Their friends, Letty and Gil, decide they like the idea and marry shortly after. Then Gil is strongarmed into painting a lovely woman wearing, among other things, a fabulous antique ruby necklace. Gil is accused of stealing this necklace and is taken by the husband of the lovely lady to the local jail where Colonel Lord Farthington is thwarted by Superintendent Oakes from having Gil arrested. Instead, Farthington is himself put into protective custody as the search for the rubies (possibly artificial) begins. This protective action is taken too late, however, as a dark car drives slowly past the group, and the colonel is slain. Ann and Allen stay in the center of the action, which builds to include the finding of two more ruby (?) necklaces buried in the gardens of an elegant country house which, shortly after, explodes. The plot includes a medicopter landing on the roof of a nearby country mansion which is found to have a landing area already prepared, but not for them. Murder by hatpin and mob hysteria follow as the villain seeks to gain control of the skein, giving him the power to create chaos in the minds of those who hate, while Ann and Allen struggle to create a powerful protection spun out of the powers they find in the secrets of the skein.
*Sir Terry Pratchett

The Renaissance of the Skeins tangled web will appeal to those who like character-driven drama with plenty of chuckles.
--ForeWord Clarion Review

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Nov 8, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466947979

Elizabeth Schaeffer

Elizabeth Schaeffer has written in many different modes, from professional papers on medieval art to newspaper columns on wildflowers. Her previously published book, Dandelion, Pokeweed, and Goosefoot, went through several printings in both hardcover and paperback, and after some forty years, it is still available on Amazon. Her master’s thesis was accepted into the Medieval Arts Collection of the J. P. Morgan Library in the same collection holding the original manuscript. She has worked in academic writing and editing for many years and is now enjoying semiretirement and the time to write her favorite kind of writing—the book you have in your hand—mystery, suspense, and romance. She hopes you enjoy reading The Secrets of the Skein as much as she enjoyed writing it.

Book preview

© Copyright 2012 Elizabeth Schaeffer.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

ISBN: 978-1-4669-4796-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4669-4798-6 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4669-4797-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012913457

Trafford rev. 01/02/2013

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Contents

Chapter One      Homecoming

Chapter Two      Confrontation

Chapter Three      The Newcomer

Chapter Four      Ladies at Tea

Chapter Five      Pleasant by the Fire

Chapter Six      The Loving Husband

Chapter Seven      Renaissance Jewelry

Chapter Eight      Young Couple at Home

Chapter Nine      Linear Construction

Chapter Ten      Delightful Day

Chapter Eleven      Meeting at the Roadside

Chapter Twelve      Dangerous Dog at Bay

Chapter Thirteen      Two Ladies in Conversation

Chapter Fourteen      At the Vicarage

Chapter Fifteen      Ladies on the Lawn

Chapter Sixteen      The Showing

Chapter Seventeen      Young Woman at Library Window

Chapter Eighteen      Young Gentleman of Padua

Chapter Nineteen      Attack on the Castle

Chapter Twenty      Sun on the Gates at Stourhead

Chapter Twenty-One      Landscape with Lightning

Chapter Twenty-Two      Courageous Woman

Chapter Twenty-Three      Grand Ball

Chapter Twenty-Four      After the Ball

Chapter Twenty-Five      Young Boy Going to the Village

Chapter Twenty-Six      Renaissance Art

Chapter Twenty-Seven      The Treasure Seekers

Chapter Twenty-Eight      Sky Lit at Night

Chapter Twenty-Nine      Group of White Mice in a Corner

Chapter Thirty      Constructionist Piece

Chapter Thirty-One      The Deep Conversation

Chapter Thirty-Two      Fallen Hero

Chapter Thirty-Three      Medical Artistry: The Modern Surgeon

Chapter Thirty-Four      Modern Art and Architecture

Chapter Thirty-Five      Chapel at Evening

Chapter Thirty-Six      Young Woman Deep in Thought

Chapter Thirty-Seven      The Furies of Justice

Chapter Thirty-Eight      Picture of Young Man Returning from Battle

Chapter Thirty-Nine      The University with Storm Clouds

Chapter Forty      Young Scholar at Work

Chapter Forty-One      Memento Mori—Full Scale

Chapter Forty-Two      Death in Red and Yellow

Chapter Forty-Three      Another Perspective

Chapter Forty-Four      Masks and Rumors of Masks

Chapter Forty-Five      A History of Patterns

Chapter Forty-Six      Adam Keyhole

Chapter Forty-Seven      Sword Play

Chapter Forty-Eight      Renaissance Fresco

Chapter Forty-Nine      Fresco Fresh

Chapter Fifty      Approaching Storm

Chapter Fifty-One      Fresco Redux

Chapter Fifty-Two      Yellow Bird Up High

Chapter Fifty-Three      Preparation for the Ball

Chapter Fifty-Four      Just the Two at Evening

Chapter Fifty-Five      Entrance to Hades

Chapter Fifty-Six      The Hidden Demon

Chapter Fifty-Seven      Doorjamb in the Mind

Chapter Fifty-Eight      Escape from Chaos

Chapter Fifty-Nine      Return to Chaos

Chapter Sixty      Back to the Renaissance

Chapter Sixty-One      Attack from the Rear

Chapter Sixty-Two      Success

Chapter Sixty-Three      Four Friends Together

Chapter Sixty-Four      No Flowers in the Yard

Chapter Sixty-Five      The Answer

Chapter Sixty-Six      Vendetta in Padua

Chapter Sixty-Seven      Going Home

Chapter Sixty-Eight      The Minutes of the Previous Meeting

Dedicated to you, the reader.

Who else?

With appreciation to Helena Schaeffer for the cover art.

MAJOR CHARACTERS:

Ann Herrick, reader of skeins, wife of Allen

Allen Herrick, Bureau of Fine Art Theft and Forgery

Gil Harkness, well-known artist, survivor of concentration camp in World War II

Letty Harkness, wife of Gil

Vicar Timothy Matthews

Amity Matthews, wife of Timothy

Robert Oakes, CID, Scotland Yard

Ned Underhill, Chief Constable, High Yews

Major Alex Atherton

Lucius, Colonel Lord Farthington

Lady Felicity Farthington

Sir Charles Farthington

Stephano de Padua

Elaine Templeton

Braithwaite, butler of High Place Old Lodge

Rob Braithwaite, his grandson

Ambrose, butler of Farthington House

Note: A skein is the presence of motives—love, anger, joy, curiosity, or envy—that go from one person to another, weaving them into the complete emotional pattern of any person or situation. Someone with both the inborn talent and the arduous training in being very still and very open to the nuances (the shades and colors surrounding those around them) can see these skeins and trace their action and interaction in a group of people. Skeins defy precise definition, but those with the ability to see them liken them to a low fog of varying colors and intensities flowing around one person or from one person to another. Occasionally they are likened to an undercurrent of unexpressed emotions in a group of people. They are often used now in forensics to form a clearer picture of motivation and intention.

They are possibly the scientific source of folkloric expressions such as feeling sad and blue, green with envy, red with rage, etc. More research is needed. Further information is classified. Your query has been noted.

Prologue

Into Each Life a Little Sun Must Shine

Percival One and Two have been given to a grateful nation—France—to prosecute for their contributions to the Riddecoombe international black market and blackmailing syndicate during World War II. Life now seemed peaceful indeed in England, with the danger a thing of the past. Ann and Allen’s first work together, recorded in The Skein, seemed complete.

For a brief while, the danger was a thing of the past. But it was only waiting—waiting in a form far more threatening than anything Allen and Ann had faced before—because it was so totally unexpected.

Now, however, there was sunshine, and it was a time for weddings. Allen and Ann had been together for so long and were so deeply in love that it seemed more like a confirmation of vows taken earlier during the darkest times of blackmail and murder.

Their vows, given and taken with Vicar Timothy at the little church at High Yews, made a quiet occasion of joy and peace—reflecting both the thankfulness of the present and the promise of the future. That future of peace and promise still lay ahead. Before that peaceful future, however, there was a darkness the two were forced to face in a grim battle between the light and the dark, with the dark very strong and the light seeming out of reach.

For her wedding to Allen, Ann wore a cream silk suit, simple but elegant. Around her neck was the intricate chain of red gold that Allen had given her as a wedding present. Allen had told her that its intricacy was a tribute to the intricacy of her mind, and its gold a tribute to her heart. Ann had smiled at that.

Ann’s beauty had softened and strengthened as her love for Allen and her confidence in herself and their work together had increased. Her hair had mellowed naturally to a rich auburn, framing her face in graceful waves. She was no longer the awkward red-haired Annie of her childhood or the timid Lady Anne with the tinted hair insisted upon by her villain of an unwanted husband, who also insisted on the also unwanted extra e to her name. Now she would no longer be Lady Anne Riddicoombe, but simply Ann Herrick—her dearest wish.

Ann carried a simple bouquet of Peace roses, named for the peace so recently won, with love-in-a-mist from the garden at the Briars, which brought very personal memories to both Ann and Allen.

Letty, Ann’s closest friend, cried with happiness. Gil, strong, tall, and loving, had his arm around Letty, and gently dabbed at her eyes from time to time with his, for once un-paint-smeared, handkerchief. Their wedding was to come soon. Amity, Timothy’s wife, had been asked to take the role of the mother of the bride by both young women. Letty glowed, thinking of the happiness she knew her friends deserved after all they had been through. Letty’s skein was a simple one, made up primarily of strands of caring for those she loved. Gil always came first, closely followed by Ann, Allen, Timothy, Amity, and her cat, a Turkish Van named Van Eyck.

The men took the wedding as men do, with a dignified sort of embarrassment. The exception was Allen, who was no longer gray but healthy and strong. His limp was gone and his stride steady and swinging. His gray eyes were smiling. He was happy in every inch of his tall, straight stature. He and Ann already made a couple. The owner of the Green Goose Inn, one of the wedding guests, remembered being the first to see them as a couple and rejoiced in the promise come true.

Letty and Gil seemed years younger than Ann and Allen. Although Gil would never lose the signs of terror branded—literally, tattooed—on him in the prison camp where he had spent so much of the war, those who had known him then would not recognize the broad-shouldered blond young man with the quiet blue eyes taking in every detail around him. The rejoicing for them was, at least in part, over the simple fact that he was there at all—strong, alive, and so very much in love with his Letty.

Letty reflected his glow and returned it until they seemed together inside a separate sunlit existence, alone but in the circle of their true friends. Their skeins were woven together with strands of joy and love and Gil’s amazing talent in putting on canvas the beauties of the countryside they both loved. This time, their friends did weep for joy—even Allen, although he hid it well and only Ann knew.

The whole summer was spent creating and recreating their own special separate nests, Ann and Allen at the Briars, and Gil and Letty in their rebuilt studio barn. It was the only barn in Wiltshire with such a wonderful north light, a wonderful north light for a wonderful artist. It was only fitting.

Gil, of course, was busy painting as he had never been able to do in the past. Each canvas was a symbol of his deep delight in the power and beauty of nature. Letty was happy to do whatever she could to make his life, which had been so much of a struggle during the war, become as easy and comfortable as a working artist’s could be.

She was also busy being pregnant, which seemed perfectly reasonable and natural and beautiful in itself. She was one of the lucky ones who glowed when she was expecting. Gil painted her several times as the progress of her pregnancy became more evident and the patterns of her skein became even more complex and blooming.

Usually, Gil refused to paint portraits. He saw too much fear and sadness, even in the faces most of us would have found cheerful or, at least, composed. Even the best of the skein readers, and Ann was still the best, could not see the fear and sadness that this war-torn man could see. Gil painted Letty with all the joy he felt in her and for her. The results were radiant, and their skein patterns were entwined and secure.

Only Van Eyck, Letty’s Turkish Van cat, had any objections, as she now had no lap to sit on. Since Van Eyck had much experience with her own pregnancies, all was considered equal. A brief stay at the vet’s ensured that the beautiful Van Eyck had contributed her last offspring to the household. Now it was Letty’s turn.

Chapter One

Homecoming

Allen came in the door that night with the strangest expression on his face Ann had ever seen there, and she had seen many: love—especially love—but also frustration, humor, strength, and satisfaction. She had seen frustration many times, since he had been taken on by Scotland Yard, predictably, for their most baffling cases.

He was very good at what he did—tracing fine art and treasured paintings that many had thought would never see the light of day again after the war. She saw his satisfaction as a case was solved and the pleasure that came with solving it. There was a grim side to the chase as well, however. Finding the stolen goods meant facing the thief—meant facing danger.

The work at the Yard was not as dangerous as his work for the British government during the war had been, but it was still filled with treachery and called for his cool nerve and high intelligence. Ann never really knew what expression he would have when he finally came through the door of the Briars each night.

That door, and every inch of the Briars, was the result of the work they had done together to recreate the comfortable old country home they shared. They grew to know each other and to argue and to love deeply during the process. Their skein patterns were loving and full of respect for the skills and accomplishments of the other. The weave of their skein strands made a pattern both intricate and secure, with much caring and total honesty between them.

Sometimes Allen would have that gray exhaustion she had seen so often—too often—during the Riddecoombe years following the war. Those years had brought real danger too close to both of them too many times. Now life was different. Now life often brought real joy through their door. Many times she saw subtle humor and tender love. Sometimes it was too dark to see the love really well. There were other ways to tell.

Ann would watch, as always, but this time she would watch and be patient. Heaven knew she had learned patience these last few years. When Allen had been kidnapped… Bad example! Just say that she had learned patience.

Tonight, however, Allen’s face, when he finally came through the door, showed her a combination of expressions—an intriguing combination of expressions. By the time their late supper was over and the things cleared away, his patience had won out over her patience.

It was obvious that what he wanted to tell her had him feeling both amusement and apprehension. He wanted to tell her, and yet he hung back from the telling. She led him into the comfortable sitting room of the old house he had found for her on the day they’d met, only a few years ago. She sat him down in the comfortable chair they had found at a recent estate sale. She took away the day’s newspaper she had laid out for him. He watched all this in amused silence. Then she sat in her own chair and said, Speak.

That obvious?

She nodded.

Ann, it involves working with the skeins for this case I’m on.

Again she nodded. Skein work was most important when there might be patterns of motivation not immediately obvious to the official eye. Strands of the emotions that reflected people’s motivation for their actions showed up in faint shadows of color and motion around everyone, especially the people involved in situations where secrecy was important to them. Ann had begun tracing these strands of color and emotion simply out of curiosity, watching people and their reactions to each other. When she was forced to be surrounded by people deeply involved in crime, both the colors and her curiosity deepened, and she found that she had discovered a skill useful to detection of crime. She assumed this new case might be more complex than others they had worked on together, and that her skills, born of her simple habit of people-watching, might be useful.

Remember when I, well, sort of promised you I’d try for a desk job?

Yes, she said. She had gotten tired of nodding. She’d known when she had asked him to request a desk job that he’d never be happy behind a desk all day. At the time, after he had been kidnapped and her life had been threatened by enemy agents, it had seemed very logical. Now she knew otherwise. Disturbing strands of boredom had begun to show in his skein, like the worn spots on a carpet when someone walked the same path too often.

"Well, I can’t stay behind a desk on this one. They want me on this new case, and I really—really, Ann—can’t get out of it. They want you there, too, using your skill with the skeins. You are the only one they know of with the skill, my love!

Ann, I tried to let someone else take it, based on conflict of interest. I cannot let my own feelings for my friends, for my own wife, interfere! Allen’s frustration was growing visibly. Truly visibly. Strands of his skein, dark and troubled, whipped in shadows around him.

This was Herrick of Scotland Yard speaking now. "This is my job—for the Bureau of Fine Art Theft and Forgery—and they won’t let me out of it. The honest truth of it is, damn it, I don’t want out of this one!

Nor do you, Ann! I promise you. This is another aspect of the Riddecoombe case, and they’re keeping the same people on it. Oakes and his crew and you and I all worked together as a team, and they think it brought them luck, or something. I know, Ann, but well… what I’m trying to say is… Oh, hell! Ann, it’s Gil!

It’s Gil what? Ann was trying to follow, but she was losing the thread.

It’s Gil that Colonel Lord Farthington is accusing of stealing the Farthington rubies.

Gil! Incredible! Gil was one of their very closest and oldest of friends. Letty’s Gil? The father of Letty’s expected child? Gil, superb painter—unique painter of anything that grew—could sit and study a tree for hours and then paint the same tree in a way you could not ever have imagined without seeing his work. Gil saw trees the way she saw skeins.

Not Gil!

Allen could feel her shock. He felt it himself. He knew now what her answer would be.

Of course! Of course I’ll work on it! But why? I mean, why on earth is it needed? Exactly who is Colonel Lord Farthington that he can demand such things of Gil? Who is he to make such accusations?

In spite of himself, Allen grinned at Ann’s whole-hearted reaction. It was what he’d hoped for. Gil is, or until today, was, painting Lady Farthington’s portrait. The portrait was to include the famous Renaissance Farthington ruby necklace around her ladyship’s lovely neck. How much should he tell her? He’d put Ann in danger several times before and had sworn never to risk it again.

Allen began again. "‘Exactly who is Colonel Lord Farthington?’ He was Gil’s superior in the war. He thinks he is everyone’s superior, in war and in peace. You’ve seen the type. You know who they are.

You know I am doubly prejudiced, but I’m on this case. You know my background, the sort of cases they put me on. When you work with the skeins involved, you’ll see me there—not an important strand, but there. Can I tell Oakes you will work with us?

Superintendent Oakes of Scotland Yard was very good about Ann’s work with the shadow-like skeins. In truth, Oakes had been forced to work with them, since he had been the superintendent on the first case where they had been used so successfully as a forensic tool. The superintendent did not like to use a tool he could not understand, but he had been forced to admit that Ann’s tracing of the skeins of those involved in the Riddecoombe case had solved the case, saving Allen’s life in the process.

Apart from Allen, Oakes knew more about the skeins and how they worked than anyone Ann knew. He also knew about Ann and the care and total dedication to the truth that she brought to her work. Ann, Allen, and Robert Oakes were as close as friends could be when one was a superior officer at Scotland Yard.

Ann, he suggested you before I had a chance to say a word. When I found out, well, there it is. I knew you would want to help, to use your skill with a skein for Gil.

They smiled joyfully at each other. To work together again! Without the scandal and danger they had faced before! They would learn.

Of course I’ll do it! Again—why does it need to be done at all? Trust Ann. Should he tell her? He had to tell her as much as he could if she was to do her work well.

"Colonel Lord Farthington persuaded Gil, heaven knows how, to paint the portrait of Lady Felicity, his wife. As you know, Gil has gained his reputation painting interpretations of trees and growing things. He refuses—with Letty being the only exception, and a special case if I ever saw one—to paint faces. He says he sees too much. I believe him on that one.

"However, this Colonel Lord Farthington bent Gil’s arm with words about ‘the honor of the corps,’ and he talked about helping out a new and unknown artist that he personally had known in the war, etcetera. Farthington waved the flag, and Gil gave in.

"I can’t quite see Gil as an unknown artist who needed any help, what with the reputation he is building. Gil was unhappy about it from the beginning. As I say, and as you know as well as I, when Gil sees a face, it’s—well, it’s like you seeing what’s in a skein. He sees far more than the other person wants to have seen.

Such was the case with Lady Farthington. Gil offered to return the contract. She agreed immediately, but he, Colonel—blast him—Lord Farthington, refused. It was his money and he was going to spend it—blah blah blah. Ann could see Allen’s opinion of the Colonel clearly. Allen’s skein was swirling red.

Gil is convinced that the rubies are fake. He has told me about this, I don’t know how many times. I have likewise told Superintendent Oakes many times. The necklace was part of one of the hauls Riddecoombe had smuggled out of Italy after the war. Oakes had been looking into it already. Now the ‘rubies’ are missing, and Colonel Lord Farthington is threatening to have Gil arrested.

Allen Herrick, and you are just now asking me if I will do skein work for Gil Harkness?

Chapter Two

Confrontation

Colonel—blast him—Lord Farthington was already at High Yews jail. So was Gil. Allen drove Ann there, arriving at the jail sooner than was legal, but not soon enough. Colonel Lord Farthington, pale, tall, and angular, was close to frothing. He was insisting that Gil be imprisoned immediately and without bail. Proof be hanged!

According to Colonel Lord Farthington, he, Colonel Lord Farthington hadn’t gotten to be Colonel Lord Farthington without knowing a thing or two. He knew Gil had stolen those rubies. The superintendent, who hadn’t gotten to be a superintendent without knowing a thing or two, watched Colonel Lord Farthington like a hawk. Letty was sitting in the far corner, twisting her wedding ring on her finger anxiously. That ring had been on her finger for only a week now, since Letty’s marriage to Gil—now a suspect of theft. Ann saw Letty in her corner, ran to her, and hugged her gently. Dearest Letty! Ann could see dark shreds of worry around her friend.

Shh, Ann! Quiet! I must hear it all!

No, the Colonel Lord Farthington could not have Gil arrested on charges as slim as those presented. No, his lordship did not outrank the superintendent in a case such as this. The superintendent informed his lordship that the superintendent was already on this case, as he had been for some time, and anything his lordship would be kind enough to add to his file, the superintendent would be only too glad to hear or, better yet, see. Thank you for your cooperation, your lordship. The superintendent had had about enough of his lordship, and his official formality had an edge to it.

Yes, Oakes knew Major McGivens of the Foreign Office. Charming man. Had lunch with him yesterday. A quick working lunch of course, but the two offices needed to be quick on this case, as his lordship so obviously knew.

That was the official conversation taking place at High Yews Jail. The unofficial one ran more along the lines of "Oh,