Tomorrow's Treasure by Linda Lee Chaikin Page B

He would do it. He would do it for Katie. He would hire a nanny to make the voyage with him to care for the baby. Lady Brewster could help him locate one. Pietermaritzburg was not too far away. If he started out at once he could be there by noon.
    Without a word more, Jendaya walked away, in the direction of Zululand, her head high, her shoulders straight. She was humming—but the sound was not like the humming of the Zulu Impi. Jendaya was humming a hymn that Henry had heard before in the vicarage of Grimston Way, as a boy: “Savior like a shepherd lead us, much we need Thy tender care …”
    He frowned again, then looked down at the baby. With a final glance after Jendaya, he studied the track of land ahead of him—the track that led back toward Natal.
    Katie was dead. The Black Diamond was missing. He still had no idea who had stolen it from him. Katie? Anthony? Julien himself? Maybe even Dumaka before he had run away to come here to join the Impi? If that was so, the Kimberly Black Diamond would be brought to King Cetshwayo!
    Henry turned in the saddle and studied the smoking ruins of the mission station. But if Katie had taken the jewel from him in the stables, it was likely buried beneath all that smoking ruin, ashes, and body parts. His mouth thinned. Not even he would sort through gutted soldiers and women to find a diamond. Let it remain buried at the destroyed mission hut. Perhaps that was a fitting tribute.
    He looked down at the baby. “I still have three pouches of whites and the map to the gold deposit in Mashonaland, little one. Maybe someday I’ll leave it all to you. In memory of pretty Katie. But for now, you and I are going home to England.”

He that troubleth his own house
shall inherit the wind.
    P ROVERBS 11:29

C HAPTER F IVE

Grimston Way, England
Fall 1890
    The earthy blush of the autumn afternoon unexpectedly darkened under a sky heavy with the threat of impending rain. Evy Varley was out gathering lush red and gold leaves for Aunt Grace to use for the fall decorations in the rectory chapel when she realized she had been out too long. It was getting toward five o’clock. She had better find Derwent Brown, the curate’s twelve-year-old son, and return to the vicarage before they both got a soaking.
    Aunt Grace would be worried about her. Recently her aunt, who had raised her from infancy, seemed more anxious and protective than usual, insisting Evy come straight home from school. She knew Aunt Grace hadn’t expected her to enter Grimston Wood today to gather leaves in her pinafore.
    With a sigh, Evy started back in the direction of the dirt road. The air she breathed was moist and pungent with the odor of earth, roots, and leaves. Here and there, spicy evergreen scents reminded her of Christmas celebrations in the vicarage.
    As she hurried through the woods, lightning suddenly struck above the tall fir trees, and Evy felt a shock of alarm jolt through her. Illuminated in the flash of light was a darkened figure, shrouded amid the trunks. Her skin prickled, for her sensibilities told her whoever it was might have been watching her since she had left the dirt road and entered Grimston Wood.
    Thunder rumbled, echoing around Rookswood’s gothic towers, with their hideous stone gargoyles. Was this cloaked stranger a visitor who had come to see the squire, Sir Lyle Chantry?
    Apprehension tingling through her, Evy stood staring toward the trees. She did not run, as that would only bring her deeper into Grimston Wood. If only she had stayed closer to the road where Derwent was getting wood for the rectory stove! Derwent was the assistant to Evy’s Uncle Edmund, the vicar. She had been friends with Derwent for as far back as she could remember, and she wished he would suddenly appear with his bag of wood on his back.
    The wind picked up and sang in low, mournful tones through the tops of the fir trees. The first large drops of rain plopped against