“Her cloak, for one thing. What color would you say it is?”
“Black,” Emma replied. “A sort of translucent, smoky black. Why?”
“According to the legend, the lady should be clad in purest white. Grayson claims that when he was a child the cloak was gray. His staff back him up. They all claim that the cloak, and only the cloak, has gradually changed from white to black. Now, I’m the first to admit that glass can change color, that it can cloud up or weather or get dirty.” He looked at Emma expectantly.
“I’m with you,” she said.
“None of those things have happened here. So, unless a chemical reaction has occurred that is entirely without precedent in the history of glass-making, I’ve no way to account for the darkening—no proof, in fact, that it’s even taken place. Do you follow?”
“Just talk, Derek,” Emma said impatiently.
Derek flushed. “Sorry. Being pedantic. Trouble is, I’ve tried to explain it to Peter and he’s refused to understand. Boy’s taken a liking to the lady. Been after me to ‘fix her cloak.’ That’s what Grayson wanted me to do, of course. He’d hoped I could change the color with a chemical treatment, which I can’t, or simply replace the glass, which I’m extremely reluctant to do, now that I’ve had a chance to examine it firsthand.”
“Why not?”
“I’m very good at my job, Emma, but whoever created that window was a master. Wouldn’t dream of interfering with his work. Grayson’s disappointed, naturally, but he sees my point and quite agrees.”
“But Peter doesn’t?”
“No. Don’t know why. He’s usually quite reasonable.” Derek ducked his head. “Don’t know why I’m going on about my son at the moment, either, when I’ve so much else to tell you. Shall we continue on to my second exhibit?” Derek strode up the center aisle to open the back door, and Emma followed him out. Sunlight blinded her for a moment and she blinked rapidly, then gasped, pressing herself back against the chapel wall, panic-stricken.
She was standing on the edge of a cliff. Like the lady in the window, Emma could look straight down two hundred feet to the monstrous waves crashing on the rocks far below.
“I say ...” Derek peered at her worriedly. “You don’t suffer from vertigo, do you?”
For the first time, Emma became acutely aware of the thundering surf, a sound that had hitherto gone as unnoticed as the beating of her own heart. “It’s a little late to be asking that question, isn’t it?” she managed.
Derek seemed perplexed, a little hurt. “Wouldn’t have let you stumble,” he said. “That’s why I came out first.”
Emma tore her gaze from the crashing waves to glare at him, but he’d already turned away.
“Exhibit number two,” he said, opening his arms to indicate the panorama of sea and sky. “What strikes you immediately about this setting?”
Now that she’d caught her breath, Emma had to admit that she wasn’t actually teetering on the edge of the cliff. It was the openness of the spot that had startled her. No stunted trees or tangle of bushes blocked the sweeping view, and no rail or retaining wall warned of the two-hundred-foot drop to the sea. All that stood between her and the precipice were a few yards of tussocky ground.
She released her hold on the chapel and took a cautious half-step forward. Ahead of her, the English Channel stretched blue to the horizon. To her left, the beacon flashed from its rocky promontory, and to her right, beyond the chapel, the cliffs curved abruptly inward. She suppressed a shudder as a gust of wind snatched at her hair.
“It’s unprotected,” she said, in answer to Derek’s question. “No shelter from the wind. I wouldn’t want to be out here during a storm.”
“But Grayson claims that this window’s been out here, in all kinds of weather, for hundreds of years. Now, look.” Derek reached up to run his hand across the irregular surface of the window. “You see? No pits, no scratches—no sign of weathering whatsoever. Even the solder is intact.”
Emma frowned and leaned back against the wall. “So Grayson’s supposedly ancient window shows no signs of age?”
“Strange, isn’t it?”
“As strange as calling Penford Hall a ruin.”
Derek’s face lit up. “Nell’s right. You do catch on quickly. Can’t wait to show you the house plans. Here, let’s go to the library.”