Garnet or Garnets Curse

in your head!”
    “No, No. I saw it all in the family book. It is real,” I replied.
    “Yes, it is real and it is called fear. Someone has masterminded this plot, calculating that your own fears would rip you apart like a wild animal. Indeed, the hold of fear is great; narrow is the escape and treacherous the road. Oh, but your plotter’s calculations did not include me. By the grace of God, he has led you here to me, to intercept their great plan.”
    “If there is no curse, then why did my father bring me here?” I asked.
    “For the love of money is the root of all evil, ” she quoted. “Garnet, do you know for sure that the man you speak of is really your father and that Charles is your uncle?”
    “Yes, of course,” I replied, feeling suddenly uneasy about my statement.
    “And you can prove this how?” she asked.
    I held my head down for a moment feeling like a fool. “I have no proof of either. Charles confirmed him to be my father and I trusted it to be the truth.”
    “I see,” said Maria. “It is a humble heart that is trusting, but is also the heart of the young and innocent.” Maria then asked, “Do you trust me?”
    “Yes,” I responded.
    “On what do you base your trust? she asked.
    I thought for a moment before I answered. “Insomuch as I have observed your actions and the way you have been open and truthful with me.”
    “That is a good observation,” she said. “Now, think of your father and this Charles. How have they treated you? Have their actions been straightforward and truthful?”
    My mind began to race back over the last couple of weeks. “Well, straightforward, I have to say no, but truthful I cannot swear against.”
    “Garnet, a man with honest intentions has nothing to hide from man or God.”
    Maria and I were discussing sending Charles a letter when we were interrupted by a knock at the door. Before she answered, she shushed me into the bedroom.
    Moments later I heard a man’s voice. “Good evening. I was told that this is the Lanier residence. Are you Mrs. Lanier?”
    “That would be correct,” Maria answered in a questioning tone.
    “I am looking for an attractive young woman in her 20’s, dark hair, dark eyes. Have you seen her?” he asked.
    “Well son, there used to be a young girl like that who lived in this house, but that was 40 years ago. Now she has gone and left me in her place,” Maria laughed nervously. I knew she was being clever to avoid answering his question. I heard him laugh. His voice sounded familiar, but I could not place it.
    “I was told there was a girl matching that description with you in the village a few days ago,” he continued.
    Oh, that was my niece. Sorry sir, you are a day late. She is on her way back to Paris,” Maria lied.
    “Her name would not happen to be Garnet Dragos?” he asked.
    “No, sorry. But the name Dragos sounds familiar. Did I read that name in the paper a few days ago?”
    There was no answer for a few seconds before the man responded. “Here’s my card. If she shows up ask her to get in touch with me. Tell her it is important.”
    “Will do, Mr. Shelley,” Maria said, and closed the door.
    I ran to the window and peeked out through the curtain. I saw a man walking toward his horse. When he stopped and glared around at the house, I quickly identified him as the Robert Shelley I knew from home.
    Maria showed me the card. On the back was written the address where he would be staying for the night. “What do you make of this?” Maria asked.
    “This is very peculiar. I don’t have a clue why Mr. Shelley would be here looking for me.” I turned the card over several times before I handed it back to her. “If I am assumed dead, why would anyone be looking for me?”
    Maria looked at me strangely. “Garnet, I have a sense of people. I think this man was here to help you. However, what concerns me, if he was able to find you, who else might be looking for...,” she said, stopping in midsentence.
    I knew what she was thinking. My father had not tucked me away so securely after all. Somehow, he had left a trail that led right to this door. When I looked in Maria’s eyes, she turned her head quickly.
    “I think it is time you go home,” she said lightly.
    “Yes, I have overstayed my welcome,” I replied, feeling hurt. “I have brought enough sorrow to this island. Do you know a reliable jeweler?” I asked. My fingers subconsciously fondled the garnet and gold necklace around my neck. If