Page 40 of The Lord's Compass
“Is something amiss?” Faith asked, and he tapped a finger on his chin.
“This painting…” he said, pointing to the landscape of the Bay of Biscay on the wall.
“Yes?”
“It must have been moved here recently.”
“Moved?” Faith repeated as she and Eric exchanged a glance. “Does the staff often switch out paintings?”
“Never,” he said, shaking his head, then lifted his hands in the air before continuing. “Ah, perhaps I am seeing things.”
Faith paused for a moment, tilting her head as she peered at it.
“What is it?” Eric asked her in a low tone.
“I recognize it,” she said.
“It’s Spanish,” he said, scrunching his nose. “How could you have seen it?”
“I could have sworn it was in my bedchamber here. Do you recall?”
His eyes twinkled. “I wasn’t looking at the paintings when I was in there.”
She swatted him lightly asDonRaphael looked back, having either shaken off his confusion or chosen to hide it from them. “Are you lovebirds coming?”
They continued, but Faith couldn’t help another look at the painting. There was a rather odd square behind it – as though one of a different shape had been hanging there before.
ButDonRaphael had continued, and they had no choice but to follow.
“That is all for the house,” he said. “Many rooms, many heirlooms, nothing particularly interesting. I am honestly not certain what you would like from your visit here?”
Faith smiled, hoping she appeared as friendly as Cassandra would have.
“I simply wanted a better understanding of my great-grandmother’s life,” she said, trying to think of a reason why they might want to spend so much time here. “I happened upon some of her journals and I’d like to see them come to life, is all.”
For the first time since they had arrived here at the Palencia estate, it seemed that had piquedDonRaphael’s attention.
“Your great-grandmother wrote journals?”
“Ah… yes,” Faith said, looking to Eric for help with her story, and he stepped forward.
“From what my wife says, she was a prolific writer,” he said. “Her descriptions were so vivid that Faith had to come to see them for herself.”
“I see,”DonRaphael said, stepping closer. “And just what did she have to say about her family and the estate?”
“Only how beautiful it is here and how much she missed everyone once she moved away.”
“I see,” he said, an assessing glint in his eyes that was as concerning as the emptiness of the house itself. “Would you like to see the grounds?”
“That would be lovely,” Faith said. “The climate here is so temperate.”
“That it is,” he said. “Although Madrid’s weather is equally fine, is it not?”
“Of course,” she said in a rush, nearly forgetting that she was not supposed to be from England, where the weather was so much drearier than any place in Spain.
They continued out of doors to the beautiful grounds, and Faith nearly forgot herself and their true purpose for being here as they walked among the lush greenery. A small river ran right through the gardens, and she was tempted to follow it to see where it might lead.
“This way,”DonRaphael said, taking them up a slight incline. Here the path was less clear, and Faith’s skirts caught a couple of times on branches that reached out toward her in an attempt to capture her.
