Faith’s first thought was to say no, thanks, and run back to the orangery. What in the world was inside that could be such a mystery that it was protected by the women of the family, with no men allowed to see it?
Beth led the way up a narrow stone staircase that was embedded in the hillside, and every fairy tale Faith had ever heard went through her head. Maybe some monster was chained inside the building. Maybe—
She held her br
eath as Beth put the key in the lock and opened the door. The hinges were so well oiled that they made not a sound.
When the heavy oak door with its giant iron hinges swung open, Faith drew in her breath. But when she looked inside, she let it out. The ceiling was a pointed greenhouse roof, set several feet down from the top of the tower so it couldn’t be seen from the outside. Inside was a circular room, no more than twenty feet in diameter. In the center was a circular stone bench and around the edges were tall shrubs. It was quite hot in the tower and dry.
Faith looked at Beth in question but the girl said nothing. Curious, Faith went to look at the plants. The smell was heavenly and she recognized it immediately. “It’s the smell of the soap and the shampoo.”
Beth nodded but said nothing. Faith knew there was some secret that she was being told, but she didn’t know what it was. She looked at the leaves of the plant, but it didn’t seem familiar.
Then, all of a sudden, it came to her. She looked at Beth. “Balm?” she said. “The real balm?”
Beth nodded.
Faith looked back at the plants in wonder. There was a story that the Queen of Sheba had given King Solomon a balm of Gilead. And the same balm was mentioned in the Bible. For centuries scholars had argued about exactly what plant it was. In modern times there was one plant called the Balm of Gilead that grew in the Holy Lands and it was rare and protected. But there were many who believed that the real balm was an extinct plant called Balsamodendron opobalsamum.
“Where did this come from?” Faith asked, staring at the plant. If this was the true balm, then its oil had been used to anoint kings, and it smelled so good that there was a belief that in heaven there would be streams of opobalsam oil.
“Some of my ancestors were Knights Templars and they brought seeds back from…”
“The Holy Lands,” Faith finished for her as she touched the plants with reverence. “No one else has these plants, do they?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve never seen it in anyone’s garden. It has to be protected from the rain because it doesn’t like water.”
“But it likes sun,” Faith said as she put her hand on the sun-warmed stone wall. The tower with its stone walls and glass roof was all solar power. The sun came in through the glass roof and the stones stored the heat. Even when it rained, there would still be warmth in the stones. All in all, it was as good an environment as England could give the Mediterranean plants.
“I’m impressed,” Faith said. “This is…” There weren’t any words to describe how wonderful she thought it was that this family had been able to preserve this precious plant for hundreds of years. “What you’ve done is truly magnificent.”
Beth went to a part of the wall near the door, twisted a stone, and removed it. Inside was a hollow space that seemed to be full of envelopes. She removed one and handed it to Faith. “These are for you.”
Faith knew what was in the envelope: seeds. Seeds from a precious plant that had been extinct for a very long time. She very much wanted them, but how was she to get them back to her own time?
“Amy has hinted that she will leave soon,” Beth said. “Tristan refuses to listen to her, but I know she means it. I assume that you and Zoë will go with her. When you leave you may take the seeds with you, and you can plant them in your country. Do you have dry parts in your country?”
Faith thought of Arizona and southern New Mexico. “Oh yes, there are lots of dry areas.” They had no English-speaking people there in 1797, but they would. Even as Faith’s hands tightened possessively over the envelope, she kept thinking that she’d never be able to take the seeds with her.
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you very, very much.”
“I will probably be haunted by the ghosts of my ancestors,” Beth said. “My grandmother made me take a vow not to share the seeds with anyone. Only we can make the products that use this holy plant.”
“Have you ever thought of going commercial?” Faith asked tentatively. The look Beth gave her was all the answer she needed. Beth was Lady Elizabeth and, no, she did not make things to sell to the public.
Faith had to turn away to hide her smile. It was hundreds of years away, but she knew there would come a time when all classes went into business. She looked about the round tower and wondered what would happen to it. If there was even one break in the female-to-female lineage in the family, no one would know what the plants were or how to take care of them. She could imagine the land being sold and a dozen ugly little houses being built where this forest was now.
“Is something wrong?” Beth asked.
“No, of course not,” Faith said, holding the seeds close to her breast. “It’s just that I’m amazed at all this. It’s wonderful. Extraordinary. And beautiful. That you’ve been able to preserve it for so long is truly…” She couldn’t think of the right words. “I promise that I’ll do what I can to see that this plant lives on.”
“I think we should get back to my uncle now,” Beth said and stepped toward the door, but she turned back and looked at the floor. Bending, she picked up something blue.
“What’s that?” Faith asked.
“It’s a bit of indigo ribbon,” Beth said, frowning. “I think someone has been in here.”
“How could they?” Faith said quickly. “The door is heavy and kept locked. No one can get in. I bet the ribbon blew in through there.” She pointed upward to a pane of glass in the roof that had a hole in it. It was only about two inches wide, but something like a ribbon could have blown through it.