Shadows of Lancaster County (48 page)

Immediately, we all sprang into action. The sulfur smell of the leaking propane was overwhelming, and from the top of the wood-stove we could hear the ticking of the timer as it measured out the few minutes we had to get free and get outside before the whole place would blow up. I suggested that we all try to rise upward, that if we could get high enough—if we could actually get our feet under us and stand on the wooden base—then we could slide the rope up over the pole and then we would be loose.

It wasn’t easy, especially because Isaac was so much smaller than the rest of us. The wooden base wasn’t balanced well enough for this many people to try climbing up on it at once, all while being simultaneously bound together with rope. Still, we finally managed to get our balance and then together, as one, we stood.

The plan worked in a way, though as we pushed the rope over the top of the pole, the whole contraption began to fall sideways, and we landed in a big heap on the floor. Relieved that no sparks had ignited an explosion, we quickly wiggled free of the ropes that were now loose on all of us. Gripping Isaac under the arms, I whipped him up onto my hip and ran for the back door, nearly throwing him out onto the ground once I got there. Haley made it outside next, and then Rebecca. Finally, with perhaps fifteen seconds left before the stove would ignite and the house would
blow up, Grete and I each took a hand of the unconscious bodyguard and pulled. We weren’t strong enough to drag the massive fellow, and I knew we needed to give up and run for our own lives.

At the last moment, seeing we weren’t going to get him out in time, Haley ran back into the house with a yell. Seconds later, Grete and I dove for cover as we heard the telltale click of the woodstove igniter.

There was a “kaboom,” but it wasn’t as loud as either of us had expected. Still, smoke began pouring from the door, and there was no way to go inside and see if Haley had survived. Nathaniel came running from the barn, saw what was going on, and reached for the bodyguard’s hands. With one giant tug, he dragged him all the way out of the house and onto the frozen ground outside.

With the noise and confusion and smoke that followed, I was living in real life the nightmare that had plagued my sleep all these years. Soon there were sirens and firemen and neighbors, and the best I could do was stay out of the way and pull my nephew on my lap and hold him as tightly as I possibly could while he cried deep, heaving sobs into my shoulder.

Later, I came to understand what Haley had done in those last few seconds, when she sacrificed her life to save a man she didn’t even know. In the moment before ignition, she had run into the room, grabbed cushions off of the couch, and thrown them and then herself down on top of the propane tank in an effort to contain the explosion. According to the coroner, she probably felt no pain. She had also likely died instantly, her body absorbing most of the force of the aluminum tank as it blew.

By the time Reed got there, I was all cried out. Still, I allowed him to hold me as I had held Isaac, and together we stood and watched the activity that swarmed around us.

There was something about fire and this house that would always go together in my mind. But at least now I knew, for certain, that eleven years ago a group of stupid kids around a little bonfire in the back field with some fireworks hadn’t done the unthinkable, hadn’t caught a house on fire, hadn’t taken any lives.

For now, that would have to be enough.

December 18, 1830

My Dearest Son,

This will be the last communication between us. Enclosed please find the remaining pieces of the Beauharnais Rubies. You should now have possession of the entire parure. These magnificent jewels were given to me in honor of your birth. It seems only fitting that they now belong to you.

It is with a wounded and aching heart that I surrender this battle of wills between us and beg of you to depart for the safety of America with my blessing. As you may know, less than a week ago, Kaspar Hauser was attacked and stabbed in the chest. Word has now reached the palace that yesterday he died of that wound.

My son, the forces that threatened your life at birth persist even now, in your adulthood. I once made a choice between honor and love. I understand now that in choosing love, I actually chose both. It is with honor that I again sacrifice and send you on your way. Godspeed, my son. I will keep to my death the secret of your true identity. May you live a long and healthy life, prosper in all that you do, and find much
peace and happiness far away from the dark clouds of evil ambition that hover over Baden.

You never knew me as a mother, but I knew you as my son. From afar, every year on the anniversary of your birth, I would stand atop the castle wall and the Jensens would bring you to play in the nearby pasture, the one with the gnarled apple trees along one side. Over the years, I have watched you grow in health and love and goodness.

May this be my greatest legacy, even though ‘twas done in secret. By giving you up, I gave you life.

No greater love hath any man than that.

Your mother, always and
forever,
Stephanie de Beauharnais

“Does it fit?” Lydia asked, hovering on the other side of the dressing room curtain. “It may need taking in at the shoulders.”

I stood in front of the mirror and looked at the dress, a perfect reproduction of the one worn by Stephanie de Beauharnais in the portrait that had been painted of her by François Gérard. In that portrait, she was posed in a beautiful floral summer dress, holding a small fan and wearing the Beauharnais Emeralds. Today, the photographer was going to attempt to recreate that painting on film with me, only I would be wearing the Beauharnais Rubies instead.

More than likely, this would be the last time I would ever have the chance to wear them. The buyer had been incredibly patient, but tomorrow he would finally be whisking them away to a collection in Europe, where they would be joined with their sister set, the Beauharnais Emeralds. Already, my family and I were soaking up the last moments we would have with this treasured piece of our heritage, one that had become so much more to us than a sparkly windfall. In fact, at first we had hoped to keep the magnificent heirlooms in the family, but the cost of insurance was prohibitive. At least we had the contents of Stephanie’s letters, which no one could ever take away—even if the originals had been moved to the Smithsonian.

Besides Stephanie’s letters, there had been other documents in with the jewels, documents that had proved conclusively the succession of ownership from Karl Jensen all the way down the line of firstborn male sons to my grandfather. Those documents had saved us from having to endure prolonged court battles with other Jensen descendants, including my nefarious accosteswabbers.

One by one, other possible claimants had been ruled out as well. The couple who bought the house might have a legitimate claim, but a review of their contract showed that they had specifically purchased the “above ground” portion of the dwelling only. That left Lydia’s family, who owned the land where the jewels had been hidden, but they had no interest in claiming them.

Thus, because my grandfather’s will had left all of his worldly possessions to his only child, my father ended up being the sole owner of the Beauharnais Rubies. Upon selling them, he had paid out a generous finder’s fee to Remy and then split the remaining proceeds into four equal shares: one for himself and my mother, one for Bobby, one for me, and one for Grete and her siblings. They had resisted at first, but in the end agreed that the money could be used to help each of the kids establish themselves once they were married, not to mention the large tithe that would bless their entire community.

“Anna? Are you coming out?” Lydia asked, and I whispered my reply through the curtain.

“If this article wasn’t for
National Geographic,
I wouldn’t be doing this. I mean, it sounded like a good idea at the time, but now I’m feeling kind of stupid.”

“
Ach,
Anna, please let us see.”

Summoning my nerve, I finally slid open the curtain that separated me from Lydia. Behind her stood Bobby and Isaac, and when I stepped out of the dressing room, everyone’s eyes widened.

“That’s just freaky,” Bobby said, shaking his head at the resemblance between me and our six-greats grandmother.

“It’s the dress and the hair, that’s all,” I said, but as I stepped out to look again at the life-sized blowup they had made in preparation for the shoot,
I had to admit that we did look somewhat alike. My lips were fuller than hers, and her neck had been longer than mine, but we both had the same eyes, the same figure, the same hands.

“Is it Anna, or is it Stephanie?” Remy cried, coming across the studio to get a better look.

These days, Remy was positively floating on air as the story of the priceless treasure he had helped to recover was one of the hottest topics in the media. He and I had been interviewed on
Good Morning America
together the same week we showed up on the cover of
People
magazine, and after those two simple appearances, the sales of his books had skyrocketed, going into subsequent printings and making Remy Villefranche practically a household name.

I had been a household name before then, of course, only nowadays people didn’t look at me with scorn or judgment, but instead with curiosity, sometimes envy, and almost always a little grace. As much as I hated the media, when the entire story about Melody and the WIRE and the Dreiheit Five and the Beauharnais Rubies and everything all came out, I decided to fight fire with fire, so to speak. After fulfilling my promise of an exclusive to the reporters who helped capture the accosteswabbers, I hit the circuit, telling the truth about what had happened, sharing the exciting story of the jewels, and repeating over and over my main point, which was that we Americans are too cruel to each other, too quick to judge, too willing to accept the lies masquerading as truth in the tabloids.