Yesterday's Promise (5 page)

“Me?… Looking for it? You misunderstand, Rogan. It was a lark I came here at all. Shouldn't have, I suppose.”

“Maybe not. But you're not the only one who still believes it's hidden somewhere here. Julien thinks so too. He's been coming here searching every year since Henry died. Not that he'll admit it.”

“I don't know what Julien thinks. I doubt the Black Diamond was his discovery to begin with. But I don't think your uncle was murdered for it. That's a serious charge to make, and very macabre.”

“By all accounts.”

Heyden measured him. “Who are you suggesting would do such a thing?”

Rogan shrugged. “Your guess may be as good as mine.”

“I don't know why. I'm not in the inner circles of the diamond family. I spent my whole life growing up in the Transvaal. But I'll give you my best guess. I doubt he was murdered for the diamond, even if he did steal it from Cape House. He took his own life, perhaps out of guilt. Because of his wife, Lady Caroline Brewster. She was your mother's sister, I believe? She died of African fever on one of his treks into Mashonaland.
And wasn't she with child? It must have been hard on him. Especially in his later years. Not an easy burden for a man to carry. It's likely it got to the poor devil in the end. That, plus the theft of the Kimberly Diamond. The Africans say it belongs to them, and they believe in curses, you know. The Zulu and the Ndebele tribes are cousins.”

Rogan considered Heyden's words, then laughed. “Curses and witch doctors? Henry scoffed at such things. Are you now suggesting he wasn't murdered through malice, but rather a nameless curse walked into his bedroom and shot him?”

“Mock if you will. I am an Afrikaner. Born and raised in South Africa, as my parents and grandparents were. We know the ways of the tribes there. They set great store by such beliefs.” Then, suddenly, Heyden spread his hands. “But as you say, if he hid it somewhere here at Rookswood, it's not likely to ever be found.”

“In a mansion this size, it could be anywhere. We could tear it apart stone by stone and still not find it. It looks as if the diamond is forever lost.”

“Yes…” Heyden looked about soberly, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets. “Yes, anywhere, including the estate grounds.”

“A man could spend his entire life just searching.” Rogan gave him a sharp look as, unexpectedly, something dawned on him. He stared at Heyden, but Heyden didn't appear to notice.

“I suppose you've checked in here already?” Heyden asked, looking about.

Rogan forced a forbearing smile; his silence was answer enough.

Heyden grinned and shrugged. “Yes, as you say, this room would be the first place people would look. But they could all be wrong, you know. The crypt might be the place. That would go along with his knowledge of curses.” He chuckled. “Your uncle has hidden it well. And so, the mystery survives—and the ghost tale? Your descendants will have quite a story to pass on, Cousin Rogan. It should give them hours of amusement fifty to a hundred years from now. Who knows? Maybe one of
them
will find the Kimberly Diamond!”

“I'll keep that in mind.” Rogan held the door open, pointedly.

“Yes, well, good night.”

“You can find your bedroom all right?” Rogan inquired innocently.

Heyden laughed. “Yes, second floor, fifth door. You and your father have been kind hosts.” He bowed lightly, turned, and left the room, going down the steps.

Rogan was not smiling as he listened to Heyden's steps fade away. His heart was thudding—not about the Black Diamond, but about Henry's map. Words that awakened him ran through his mind again and again:
He could have hidden it anywhere on Rookswood, including the estate grounds… A man could spend his entire life just searching… In a mansion this size it could be anywhere. We could tear it apart stone by stone and not find it
.

Of course! Henry was no fool. Why didn't I think of this sooner?

Henry had willed Rogan the map because he
wanted
him to find it and use it. It would have defeated his purpose to hide it so well that he would have no clue where to look.

“And he didn't,” Rogan murmured decisively.

He stood still, considering again every meeting he'd had with Henry here in this room. He had often come here, and Henry had filled his ears with adventurous tales of Africa.

“There's gold north of the Crocodile River, Rogan. Plenty of it. Enough to make a man a gold rand. Here, take a look at this.” He placed a rock in his hand. “Keep it. I may never go again. But you will. This is a sample. And I've drawn a map from memory that will help you find it. I wish I could have drawn a more detailed map, but we were under attack. We had to get out of there fast. My guide, Bertrand Mornay, was killed. You've heard me talk about him before? Yes, a solid man. A
Frenchie
. There was no better hunter-guide than he. The little Hottentot, Sam, was the one who told me about the gold, but he was killed too. I've done my best in drawing the location, but details fade in the heat of battle. By the time I made it out alive to Kimberly, the memory of its location was already a bit muddled. The shock and terror of
fighting do that to a man. The bloody deaths of close friends. But the map has enough information for you to stake a claim if you use that head of yours. You take after me, Rogan. You'll do it. I'll wager my reputation on you, boy. Just wait till you grow up.”

Henry had taken him by the arm and led him into the other room. “Remember, boy, if something happens to me, I've left the map to you. I'll mention that in my will. And the picture I painted… Take a good look at it. Remember it, Rogan. It's yours, understand? That will be mentioned in my will too. You do understand, don't you, boy?”

Yes, finally…now I understand
.

Rogan shut the door and slid the bolt securely closed. His mind grabbed hold of the realization and wouldn't let go. He laughed at himself for having been dense for so long.

Rogan went straight across the room toward the small bedroom Henry had used when working late at night and entered.

This was where he'd hidden Evy the time Uncle Julien surprised them by coming here.

Rogan looked straight at the painting on the wall, the one Henry had willed to him along with the map. Henry said he had painted it upon returning to Rookswood after the Zulu massacre at Rorke's Drift. Rogan stared, as if seeing it for the first time. He remembered Henry pointing at it, telling him the details again and again. The battle of Isandlwana, Rorke's Drift, of the strong Zulu warriors called
impis
. He remembered how Henry would talk about his map at the same time, repeating that if something happened to him before he could return to South Africa, the map was Rogan's.

The map…and the painting.

With one swoop, Rogan lifted the painting from the wall and turned it over. He pulled the tacks from the frame, removed an outer backing, and…saw something folded, concealed between the painting and the false backing. The map…and something else. His heart began to race with excitement. An envelope with some pages, torn from what must have been a diary of sorts. Rogan recognized Henry's writing. He
had expected a letter addressed to him from Henry, but there was none. Just the map and the diary sheets his uncle had put away securely early on, even while Rogan was yet a boy. Now he was even more convinced that Henry had not expected to die as suddenly as he had. Henry was normally very methodical about everything. If he had planned to take his life, he would have written a letter first and placed it here with the map. Rogan could hardly wait to get alone in his room to study the diary pages and the map!

He put the painting back together and replaced it on the wall. No one would ever guess these clues had been hidden there all these years.

He smiled. This was his secret now. He would tell no one. He would quietly finish his remaining years at the university, do his intern work at the family diamond business in London for a year, and then set sail for Capetown with Henry's map. He would arrange his own private expedition. Somehow he would convince Derwent to come with him. He could trust Derwent, who grew up in the rectory with Evy, as he could trust few others.

Now, what was the name of the son of Bertrand Mornay, Henry's guide? Henry had mentioned his guide's son several times. Giles, that was it. According to his uncle, Giles Mornay would follow in the steps of Bertrand to become a hunter and guide as skilled as his famous father. One day he would locate Giles Mornay in Kimberly. He was the right man to take up where his father had left off. Together, with Derwent, they would discover the gold deposit on Henry's map…

The ship pitched again in the storm raging outside, and the lantern swayed. Rogan turned his attention back to the yellowed pages from Henry's diary. Though the writing was indistinct in the lamplight, he read again Henry's warnings…