As primrose held the mysterious key, a gift from her enemy, she wondered what far off

land it may have come from. She studied it. Its bow was delicately carved, with the head

of an ancient dragon.

“Hmmm. Interesting” she said softly, “A dragon from the Far East, here in Haworth.”

Her finger slid along its neck; she could feel the carved scales.

Upon the shank were carved kanji: 義 兄 弟 and a stamp that did not belong—a tree of

life.

She glanced once more at the note that arrived with the key, “Your father would want

you to have this.” It read.

Kanji and a sacred tree. She thought. What’s the connection here, Fenwick?

Her thoughts were interrupted by Athena’s rustling feathers. She glanced up at her and

smiled, “You’re quite right. It is late.”

She stood up and gave the owl a pet and said, “Good night my darling.”

Primrose walked slowly to her bedroom, mesmerized by the key’s ornate, double bit.

She sat on her bed, opened the drawer to the bedside table, and pulled out a reading

glass. At this magnification, she could easily see the intricately carved lotus flowers and

spirals of water.

“Well, this looks familiar.” She murmured, “Instead of a spiral in fire, I now have a spiral

in water. What does this mean?”

She forced herself to give in for the night. It had only been two days since Fenwick

disappeared without a trace—escaping before constable Grant could bring him to

justice for murdering her mother. She knew he was also responsible for the murder of

her father, but she couldn’t prove it. Regardless, he was gone.

She took one last look at the key in the drawer and said, “Why are you taunting me with

this Fenwick? Where will this key lead me?”

Her frustration growing she could feel the heat in her cheeks. “If I ever find you…”

She took a deep breath, stopping herself. She sighed deeply and her shoulders sunk.

She pushed the drawer closed and finished her sentence, “…what will I do?” She

hunkered down in the blankets and decided to sleep on it.

The light streaming into the room from the window was bright as she blinked her eyes

awake. Looking up she saw Athena’s big amber eyes staring down at her, moving her

head as owls do when they are curious about something.

“Hello love.” She said.

Athena straightened herself and ruffled her feathers.

Primrose couldn’t help it, she rolled over, opened the drawer and pulled out the key.

“It’s time to see what secrets you’re hiding.” She said

She got up and gave Athena a kiss on her head, “Time to start the day darling.”

“And I think it’s time to bring Maggie into the fold.” She said with confidence, “She has

proven her loyalty and discretion. She can help me research this unique artifact.”

Maggie was right on time, as always, and Primrose greeted her with a smile and a cup

of tea.

“Morning Miss Eversley.” Maggie said, “Thank you for the tea.”

“Join me,” Primrose said as she motioned Maggie toward their familiar chairs by the

shop’s front window. Sipping quietly, they each enjoyed the silence of the morning.

Maggie noticed a bird’s perch next to the window, put her tea on the table, and began to

examine it like a constable scrutinizing a piece of evidence. “You’ve got a bird now, have

you?” she asked curiously.

Just then, Athena flew downstairs and took her place upon the perch, joining the women

in the morning light.

Maggie, startled, fell back into the chair and stared at the owl in astonishment. “What

have we here?” she said, adjusting her spectacles; eyes wide.

“This is my darling, Athena, she is a gift from my father.” Primrose said with a smile. “I

thought it was time for you to meet her.”

Maggie watched Athena with the look of a child seeing a unicorn or some other magical

creature. “She’s lovely.”

“What kind of owl is she?” Maggie said, “What I mean is, I never seen any around here

that look like her.”

The question took Primrose by surprise, “I, uh, don’t know.”

She’s not a local owl species? How did I miss that? She began to ponder the

possibilities.

“She’s a mysterious beauty.” Maggie said.

“Aren’t we all.” Primrose mused and they both shared a laugh.

It was an absolute Alexandre Dumas’ moment. Three mysterious beauties brought

together not by d’Artagnan, but by a villain, Harold Fenwick.

Primrose smiled at the thought and gave a soft chuckle and said, “The three

inseparables.” Maggie knew the reference and giggled.

Athena gave a soft “ooh-hu”. Maggie and Primrose glanced at each other and started

laughing hysterically. Primrose beamed as she regained her composure and sat smiling

in the warmth of the sun drifting through the window. When she began to speak, she did

so with the supportive and nurturing voice of an older sister.

“Maggie, you’ve been at the shop a while now and I have come to enjoy your company

and your loyalty.” She said, then she reached across the table and placed her hand on

Maggie’s. “Remember that man who came to the shop, the one you told me you

distrusted?”

“Yes, Miss” Maggie said timidly.

“Well, there’s no easy nor proper way to tell you this, but he had my mother murdered.”

A look of shock struck Maggie’s face, and her hand gave a slight tremor as she placed

her cup of tea back on the saucer.

Primrose continued, “And I am positive he was involved in my father’s murder as well.”

“Blimey.” Maggie said with a distant look on her face.

Primrose, noticing her distant gaze, said, “Are you alright? I haven’t frightened you,

have I?”

“No, Miss, it’s just… well.” She looked down at her hands which she began wringing

nervously. “The other day, when you asked me to get the shop ready for customers, I

overheard something at the flower stand.”

Primrose tilted her head and pursed her lips. “What did you overhear?”

“My back was turned, but I recognized the voices.” Maggie said as she looked up

sheepishly.

“Whose voices did you hear, Maggie?” Primrose’s heartbeat began to race.

“Harold Fenwick and…” She paused. “And Rowan Ashcroft.”

Primrose sat back in her chair like she had just had the wind knocked out of her;

weighing in her mind why she keeps wanting to trust a man she clearly cannot. Rowan

Ashcroft. You’re hiding things from me.

“Are you alright miss?” Maggie asked.

Primrose smiled, and Maggie quietly understood.

Primrose sighed and looked out the window and watched the villagers going about their

day as if everything in the world was right, but she knew better. “What were they talking

about?”

Maggie noticing Primrose’s disappointment said, “I couldn’t quite make it out there was

noise from a buggy, and they were speaking quite secretive.” She gave it some more

thought. Her face turned up to the ceiling with a look of concentration.

“There was mention of a newspaper article.” But honestly miss that’s all I could really

make out.”

She turned to Maggie and said with a smile, “That’s ok, why don’t you tell me what you

found out about the Lyre.”

Maggie lit up excitedly. “I learned quite a bit researching the store’s artifacts!” She said

as she walked over to the counter to retrieve Alaric Eversley’s meticulous books.

“Ah, it’s this one.” She said fumbling with a large, leather-bound tome.

She brought it to Primrose to examine, placing it in her hands. “Here is the lyre.” Maggie

said pointing to a page in the book. “Line 333. Origin: Far East. Condition: In playing

order. Offer made: Harold Fenwick. Declined.”

Harold Fenwick, here you are again. Primrose thought to herself. “Hmmm. That’s

interesting.” She said as she looked up at Maggie.

Maggie raised an eyebrow and whispered, “It is indeed.”

“Now why do you suppose my father would decline to sell this particular lyre to Harold

Fenwick?” Primrose asked a hypothetical question.

Maggie pondered the question for a moment then said, “I bet Rowan Ashcroft knows.”

“Indeed.” Primrose parried. Then quickly changed the subject by pulling Fenwick’s gift

from her pocket. “Is this in there?”

Maggie put the book down on the table and held out her hand, “May I?”

Primrose placed the carved dragon key on her palm.

“How did I not see this item before?” Maggie asked herself, glancing around the shop.

“It arrived by messenger last night.” Primrose said.

Maggie looked at her with surprise, “Were you expecting it?”

“No—A gift…” Primrose stood up. “From Fenwick.”

“Blimey.” Maggie said dumbfounded as she examined the key and it’s intricate details.

“Blimey is right,” Primrose responded. “Do you see anything in there about the key? The

note that came with it said that my father would want me to have it.”

“Cryptic” Maggie murmured.

“Yes.” Primrose said as she heard the chime on the door.

Maggie glanced up and quickly hid the key in her sleeve.

Primrose knew immediately that she had made the right decision bringing Maggie into

the fold. She nonchalantly turned to greet her customer; already sensing that it would be

Rowan.

“Looks like I have missed tea.” Rowan said slyly as he walked toward the women with a

smile.

“Well perhaps I can interest you in a copy of Great Expectations. You may like it,” She

sneered, “It explores one man’s ambition and his moral decay.”

Rowan just smiled cooly.

What is going on in that head of yours? She thought as she felt her chest heaving.

“It truly is a good book.” She smiled coyly.

He stepped closer to her and whispered, “I’ve read it.” His eyes moved slowly from her

lips, to meet her hazel eyes where he paused entirely too long. They both turned when

they heard Maggie politely clearing her throat. “Ahem”

“Pardon me Miss Eversley, Mr. Ashcroft,” she said with a smile. “I finished reviewing the

inventory.”

“Thank you, Maggie. Let’s discuss that before you leave this evening.” Primrose said

with a knowing smile.

“I’ll put it back behind the counter then.” Maggie responded with a smile and a nod as

she walked toward the front of the shop.

Rowan’s face lit up when he saw Athena. He walked over to her and said, “We meet

again old friend.” To this Athena ruffled her feathers and let out a calm “ooh-hu”. Taken

aback, Primrose and Maggie both darted looks at one another, then back at Rowan.

Rowan turned to see he had taken them both by surprise. Offering no explanation, he

just smiled and said, “Take a stroll with me Primrose. I want to show you something.”

She gave him a curious look and called out to Maggie who was now organizing the

Theology shelves. “Maggie, I’m going to step out for a bit. I should be back by dinner.”

Maggie turned briefly to acknowledge her, then went back to placing Pilgrim’s Progress

back on the shelf where it belonged.

Outside the shop Rowan offered his arm to Primrose and she shyly took it. They strolled

along Main Street, stopping briefly to smell the roses at the flower cart.

What were you discussing with Fenwick here? She secretly thought. And how do you

know Athena?

Her insatiable curiosity got the better of her and she finally said, “Back at the shop, you

said ‘We meet again old friend.’ to Athena—how do you know her?”

“I was there when your father found her injured in the forest.” He said rather

nonchalantly.

“You were there?” She asked inquisitively, “Mrs. Crowley told me about that day from

her own recollection but never mentioned you were there.” She stopped in the middle of

the lane and said, “Why were you there?” she said watching his face for some reaction

but disappointed that there was none.

“I’m everywhere.” He said with a laugh and nothing more. He offered his arm once

more, but she crossed hers and refused to budge another step.

“Oh no. I am not going anywhere with you until you explain yourself.” She demanded.

He gently placed his hand at the small of her back and said, “Well I can’t let you get

trampled by this carriage, so I must insist.” As he guided her to the side of the lane.

She turned to see Mr. Whitby’s carriage and his driver tipped his hat, recognizing her.

She gave him an embarrassed smile in return.

Rowan then pulled a wildflower from the side of the lane and offered it to Primrose. She

just crossed her arms once again and tilted her head with a serious look on her face.

Rowan shrugged his shoulders and placed the flower in his lapel with a smirk and a

laugh.

“Do you enjoy frustrating me sir?” she said clearly annoyed.

“On the contrary Miss Eversley, you’re not frustrated—you’re intrigued. I’m mysterious.”

“And arrogant.” She quipped.

He stepped closer to her and looked straight into her eyes with a grin that made her

uncomfortable. Not because she was afraid but because she wasn’t.

“You’re going to come with me because you can’t help yourself.” He said confidently,

“And your reward for coming with me is that I shall tell you how and why I was in the

forest with your father and Mrs. Crowly.” He offered his arm once again and this time

she took it reluctantly and said, “Very well, lead on.”

As they meandered through the town’s streets something familiar appeared in the

distance. She could see the black oak tree blanketed by a darkening skyline.

As they walked down the lane, she recalled the same cottages with the shuttered

windows, and beyond them, the unmarked building with the wooden door. The closer

they got to the door, the harder the wind blew, as if warning her to not tread any closer.

There she stood, knowing this is where Harold Fenwick eluded Constable Grant and his

men. Where he did his underhanded dealings. Where she stood the day she found the

acorn on her father’s grave and tracked it back to this very spot. Why are we here? She

thought as she placed her hand on the door.

She withdrew her hand quickly, startled. Its energy familiar, its grain the same. What’s

the connection? She silently wondered. This wood is the same as the stairs in the shop.

Where did it come from? Why does it feel alive?

Rowan leaned against the door with a smirk on his face, clearly pleased with himself.

“Want to take a peek inside?” he said.

A smile slowly peaked across her face and her eyes lit up. “Absolutely.” Primrose said

trying to contain her anticipation.

Rowan maneuvered an iron clasp and pushed the heavy door open, allowing Primrose

to enter the world of Harold Fenwick.

The building was empty but still told a story for those who knew where to look. Primrose

walked about the guildhall imagining the secret meetings that must have gone on there

right under the townsfolk’s noses. She moved her boot in the ashes of the hearth as if

sifting them would reveal some clue. She could smell the remnants of cigars as she

passed by a small window. She could see the dusty outlines of where furniture had

been placed. She could almost see the layout of the room from those clues alone. She

took a deep breath, then asked the question that was weighing on her mind. “What were

you doing in the forest with my father?”

Rowan was also wandering around the room, although in a manner of someone more

familiar with its walls and secrets. He paused, his back to her. He closed his eyes for a

brief moment. As he turned to face her, he feigned his more gregarious façade, and

then he lied.

“I was waiting for someone.” He said.

She gave him a frustrated look.

He laughed and continued, “I was following a lead on a story, but they never showed up.

I heard some people talking around the bend and went to see what the commotion was

about.” He smiled as if he had just latched on to a fond memory. “That’s when I saw

your father and Mrs. Crowly. He had what looked like a snowball in his hand.” He

walked closer to Primrose gesturing his hands as if holding something precious. “As I

got closer, I realized the white fluff ball was an injured baby owl. I’d never seen a baby

owl before.”

She smiled at his enthusiasm. “And when did you see her last?” she asked trying to

sound matter of fact rather than interrogative.

“The morning your father died.” He said solemnly.

Her smile quickly faded. She could feel her face getting hot and her chest began to

heave. “What?”

“I met with your father that morning to borrow a book for a story I was researching.” He

said as he placed her hand in his, noticing her discomfort. “I’m very sorry about your

father Primrose.”

She looked down as if finally realizing he was holding her hand. She slowly withdrew it

from his and moved slowly past him, continuing her inspection of the room.

Creak… the floorboard under her foot made a sound that made them both stop and

glance at each other with surprise.

Rowan quickly moved toward her and used his own foot to test the wood. “It’s definitely

loose.” He said looking at her with anticipation and a grin.

They both kneeled on the floor to try to lift the plank with their hands, but it wasn’t

coming up that easy. “Let’s look around, see if we can find something to pry this up.”

Rowan said.

They both wandered the building looking for something, anything they could use to see

what was hidden beneath the floor. To their dismay, there was nothing.

“Seems Fenwick was quite thorough in his departure.” Rowan said, “I didn’t find

anything to use on this floor.”

Thorough, she thought. Then what is left behind is deliberate.

“I didn’t have any luck either” Primrose said and she made her way back to Rowan and

the creaky floorboard.

“Well, we’ll have to come back.” He said. “I’m sure I have something at the newspaper

that can pry that up.”

Before they left, they made a pact to come back that evening and see what was hiding

beneath the floor. Rowan walked Primrose back to the shop just in time for dinner.

Maggie was waiting for Primrose with some fresh tea, bread, cheddar and some cold

meats. “Did you enjoy your walk, Miss?” she said as she greeted her.

Primrose gave Maggie a smile and sat down to eat by the window. “This is a lovely

dinner, Maggie. Thank you.”

Maggie sat down and began to eat.

“When you are done eating, I am going to need your help.” Primrose said with an

excited smile. “And something to pry up a floorboard without leaving any marks.”

Maggie swallowed hard, then smiled. “I have just the thing.”

The women closed up shop early that day and made their way to the building by the

black oak. Inside they looked at the floorboard and gingerly pried it up with the chisel

and cloth Maggie brought to do the job.

After much effort the women were able to claim their prize. Beneath the floorboard they

found a leather book box.

“Now what do you suppose is in there?” Maggie asked.

Primrose looked up at her and said, “Let’s find out.”

She grabbed the book box from its hiding place and opened it. Inside there were

stereographs but in the dim light and without a stereoscope she couldn’t tell what

images were on them.

“Do you have a stereoscope at home?” she asked Maggie.

“My father had one in his study.” She replied.

“Wonderful!” Primrose said. “We should go before Rowan comes back to the shop and

finds it closed.”

The women replaced the floorboard, checking to make sure they didn’t leave any

noticeable damage. Then they hurried back through the town’s winding streets to the

shop. Primrose hid the book box upstairs and asked Maggie to bring the stereoscope

with her in the morning.

Rowan arrived back at the shop just as Maggie was leaving for the night. “Good

evening, ladies.” He said.

“Good evening.” They both said in unison, then looked at each other and giggled like

schoolgirls who were keeping a secret.

Primrose said, “Thank you, Maggie. I will see you in the morning.”

Maggie nodded and went on her way.

Primrose, excited by her secret, asked Rowan, “Did you bring something to pry up the

floorboards?”

Rowan smiled and pulled a screwdriver and a hammer from his jacket. “One for you and

one for me.” He laughed. “Shall we?”

Primrose smiled, satisfied with herself. “Yes!” she said, wondering how Rowan will react

when he finds nothing under the floorboard.

They made their way quietly through the quiet, evening streets of Haworth. The streets

seemed quite desolate this evening. It made her uneasy.

When they got to Fenwick’s hideaway, they entered the building once more and then lit

one of the wall sconces. Rowan stepped his foot in the general area they were standing

earlier in the day until he heard the creaking sound. He gave Primrose a satisfied look

then kneeled to begin his work.

Primrose walked toward him and asked, “Have you ever been in this building before

today?"

He did not respond but made a guilty face she could not see from where she was

standing.

“I mean, of course, while investigating your stories. I read quite a few in the archives

where you put some speculation on Mr. Harold Fenwick.” She kneeled across from him

looking for some kind of tell. “Did he ever invite you in?”

He looked at Primrose and said, “Are you going to help or interrogate me?”

She smiled and said, “Maybe a bit of both.”

“I’ll tell you what I do know.” He said annoyed, “When it comes to Harold Fenwick, we

shouldn’t stick around here long.” Then he made a nodding gesture toward the hammer

in her hands.

“Quite right.” She said realizing that the ease of their entry was probably did not bode

well for their safety. She joined Rowan in trying to pry the floorboard up. She realized

that she and Maggie may have replaced it a little to well as it was harder to pry up this

time.

They were both growing frustrated when Rowan finally grabbed the hammer and beat

the floor until it cracked. He then took the claw of the hammer and yanked the

floorboard up. Primrose was impressed with his ingenuity but alarmed at the ease of his

anger.

Rowan took a deep sigh letting go of his frustration. He tossed the broken floorboard to

the side and was surprised to find the space empty. Primrose had been watching his

face and she thought she saw a touch of confusion.

Fenwick said it would be here. He thought to himself. He realized Primrose was

watching him and he said, in a surprised tone, “It’s empty. I didn’t see that coming.” He

tried to laugh it off. “I thought we’d found some hidden treasure.”

Primrose peered into the hole in the floor and pretended to feel around inside as if

looking for something in the unseen reaches. “No, it’s definitely empty.” She said as she

sat back on her hip.

Rowan couldn’t hide his disappointment. He sighed, “We should get out of here.

Someone could have heard all that loud noise you made.” He laughed.

“You jest? Now?” she laughed herself. And gladly accepted his hand as he helped her

up off the floor.

Then, they heard it. Hooves on cobblestone. They looked at each other and Rowan

motioned her to the back storage room. He looked around and saw a window. “Just big

enough.” he said as he grabbed Primrose’s arm and moved her toward the window and

cupped his hand to give her a boost.

“You expect me to shimmy out the window?” She said, distrusting the idea.

He whispered, “Not so loud.” He gave her a frustrated look and a nod toward the

window.

She sighed and tried to lift all her skirts for their daring escape. She opened the window

and pulled herself out and onto a hillside behind the building. She turned and peered

back into the window and saw Rowan quietly walking back to see if he could see who

was there. He walked quietly back to the window and lifted himself up and out as quietly

as he could. Then he shut the window as far as he could before it started to make noise.

He paused and looked at Primrose.

She was breathing heavily and whispered, “Who did you see?”

He whispered back, “I couldn’t make out who it was, but they were very interested in the

broken floorboards.” He grabbed her hand and whispered, “Quickly and quietly, lets

head for the moors.” She nodded.

In the moonlight, she could just make out the undulating hills of the moors. It was also

the unmistakable squish of mud on her boots that let her know she was safe. Rowan

asked if she was cold and offered his coat. She thanked him and they walked back

toward town hidden in the darkness of the countryside.

“Who were those men?” She asked more as a deduction than a question.

“Probably just more of Fenwick’s cronies.” Rowan said, confused as to why Fenwick’s

men would be there.

“That’s interesting.” Primrose said under her breath.

Rowan heard her and asked, “What’s interesting.”

Surprised, she stopped and turned to him. “Why are his men coming back to the

building if Fenwick is gone?”

“What are you suggesting Primrose?” Rowan asked.

“Maybe he hasn’t gone as far as we think.” She said, “Maybe he’s somewhere nearby.

There are plenty of towns within a day of here that he could easily blend into.”

“Fenwick blend in? You’ve met the man. Not possible.” Rowan shook his head.

“You’ve investigated him before,” she pressed, “What did you find?”

“A lot of roads that led to nowhere.” He said, “Its very late and we are almost to the

forest near the Inn. Let’s keep going.”

They continued the rest of the walk in silence although they were both deep in thought.

What is he hiding? Primrose thought. I know he was expecting to find something under

the floor. What did he expect to find?

Fenwick said he’d placed the box under the floorboards. Rowan thought to himself

angrily. Why would he deceive me of all people? And why did he send Thomas and

Henry to the guildhall? Perhaps Primrose is in more danger than I thought.

Primrose could see the lights through the windows of the inn. “Ah, here we are.” She

breathed a sigh of relief.

“Rowan, Mr. Ashcroft, I would love to thank you for this exciting misadventure, but I

won’t.” She said with a laugh. She held out his coat and thanked him for his gentlemanly

behavior.

“It was my pleasure, Primrose.” He said taking his coat from her hand as she walked

toward the inn.

He watched her as she grew farther with each step. He decided to jog to catch up to

her. “Primrose.” He said, a little winded.

She turned to him and smiled.

Rowan smiled back and said, “Maybe next time we’ll find that treasure.”