The Jewels of Sofia Tate

The Jewels of Sofia Tate

Doris Etienne

Copyright © Doris Etienne, 2009

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (except for brief passages for purposes of review) without the prior permission of Dundurn Press. Permission to photocopy should be requested from Access Copyright.

Project Editor: Michael Carroll

Copy Editor: Barry Jowett

Designed by Courtney Horner

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Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Etienne, Doris

The jewels of Sofia Tate / by Doris Etienne.

ISBN 978-1-55488-230-4

I. Title.

PS8609.T43 J49 2009       jC813'.6       C2009-900504-2

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We acknowledge the support of the
Canada Council for the Arts
and the
Ontario Arts Council
for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the
Government of Canada
through the
Book Publishing Industry Development Program
and
The Association for the Export of Canadian Books,
and the
Government of Ontario
through the
Ontario Book Publishers Tax Credit program,
and the
Ontario Media Development Corporation.

Care has been taken to trace the ownership of copyright material used in this book. The author and the publisher welcome any information enabling them to rectify any references or credits in subsequent editions.

J. Kirk Howard, President

All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the New King James Version ®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

www.dundurn.com

For
my sons,
David, Michael, and Benjamin,
who never doubted,

and my husband,
James,
who always believed in me

I would like to thank everyone who assisted in any way with providing me the little details, all of which eventually helped to put this story together, but especially: Lynn Weimer for her medical expertise; Karen and Amy Stickel, and Ann Mclnnis, my first readers, for their valuable comments; Kathy Stinson and Lyn Hamilton, past Edna Staebler Writers-in-Residence at the Kitchener Public Library, for their helpful feedback on early drafts of parts of this book; and the lovely, dedicated, and talented women of the Kitchener Public Library Writers' Collective — Susan V. Barclay, Sharon Blomfield, Kimberlee Feick Lowry, Paula Kienapple-Summers, Tracie Klaehn, and Jennifer Ross, for their thoughtful insight, criticism, suggestions, and encouragement. I couldn't have done it without you.

I would also like to thank Michael Carroll, editorial director at Dundurn Press, for giving me this most remarkable opportunity; my sons, David, Michael, and Benjamin Etienne, for their continuous enthusiasm; and my husband, James Etienne, for his ongoing support and encouragement to live my dreams.

Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.

— Matthew 7:7, New King
James Version

Russia 1895

Masha whinnied as Marie led her from the stall.

“Shhh, Masha,” Marie whispered, reaching up to stroke her mane. “Shhh, easy now.”

She guided the mare behind the building and mounted her a short distance away, swinging a bag with only a change of clothes and a small amount of money up with her. She looked at the starry sky and breathed in the crisp early autumn air. It would soon be light. She had no time to waste.

They began at a walk, slowly at first, so no one would hear, and when they had moved far enough away from the house, Marie urged the horse into a canter. Her heart beat wildly as she thought of what her father would do when he discovered her gone, five days before the wedding was to take place. But if she was ever to be happy, she had to take that chance. She did not love the Count Uvorov and she would not marry him no matter what her father wanted. Her mother would have understood.

She clutched tightly at her coat, feeling for the slight bulge beneath. Everything was safe, sewn securely inside.
The pearls would be sold when money was needed and the treasured heirloom ... Well, that was another matter.

She remembered the day it had been given to her. It was her eighteenth birthday and her mother had already begun to fade by then. But she was sitting up in bed that day when Marie entered the room and bent over to kiss her mother on the cheek.

“Happy birthday, my dear,” her mother said with a weak smile. Then her eyes twinkled mischievously. “I have something special for you.” She pulled an oblong box out from under the covers and handed it to Marie. “You are old enough now and I must give this to you while I am still able.”

Marie's hands shook with excitement as she lifted the lid, then nearly dropped the box when she eyed its contents. “Mama! This must be worth a fortune!” she said breathlessly.

“Yes, but you must promise me that, no matter what, you will never part with it. You must not sell any piece of it and it must never fall into the wrong hands. Do you understand?” Her mother's voice was sharp.

Marie nodded.

Her mother went on. “Above all,” she said, licking her dry lips, “do not tell anyone that you have it. Not even your father. Especially not your father. He has mishandled our finances and thinks that I do not know.
He fooled me for years about many things but in the end, the truth always comes out.” She gave a deep sigh. “Once I am gone, Marie, unless there is a miracle, there will be no more money for him at all. My brother has only helped us for my sake, but there is no love lost between those two. Your father's only hope to climb out of debt would be to sell the contents of this box, or make a good marriage, either for himself or for you or your brother. He knows about this box and that I would never sell what's inside. But it is up me now to fulfill the vow to my own mother, never to part with it except to pass it along. The sapphire is said to have powers, but only for those who are worthy.”

Marie's eyes widened. “Powers? Whatever kind of powers do you mean?”

Her mother's eyes were intent as they looked back at her daughter. “It is said that divine favour rests upon the wearer — that the sapphire has the power to draw protection and wisdom and prosperity. Now, promise me that you will look after it.”

Marie nodded again. “Yes, Mama. Of course. I promise.”

So Marie found a hiding spot for the box under a loose floorboard in her bedroom and told no one about it. Months later, after her mother's death, she heard her father through closed doors as he pulled things apart
in every room, cursing with increasing agitation and frustration, causing Marie to become fearful at times. She knew he had become a desperate man. But she would not reveal her secret. Not even when he arranged her marriage to Count Uvorov. She would not betray her mother.

So tonight, when she had packed to meet Johann, she had removed the contents from the oblong box and had carefully sewn them inside her coat, taking with her the precious promise of hope that the heirloom offered.

She was nearing the city now, the faint light slowly ushering in a new day. People were beginning to stir. She caught her breath when she saw Johann in the distance, waiting for her at the back of the building, as he had promised. From there, things would go quickly. He had arranged everything. If she wanted to change her mind, this would be the time.

But she knew she wouldn't.

Kitchener, May 2000

The scent of lilacs, heavy in the late afternoon heat, drifted over to the front porch step of the townhouse where Garnet sat. She took a sip of her cool, pink lemonade and watched as the stooped figure of a plump, elderly woman in a flowered dress sluggishly made her way along the sidewalk with her wooden cane.

Though the street itself was a quiet oasis, the honking of horns and occasional sirens on the surrounding downtown Kitchener streets irritated Garnet more than usual today.

It was Friday, the start of the Victoria Day weekend, and everyone seemed to have somewhere to go and something to do. Everyone except her. Not that this was entirely unexpected, she supposed, living in a new city.

She hadn't wanted to move. In fact, she had fought tooth and nail against the idea, and now that she and her mother were here, her nightmare had been realized. Cameron Heights was the worst high school on earth. Everyone there was so unfriendly.

The woman was closer now, almost in front of Garnet, and seemed to be slowing down. She stopped to
mop her brow with a white handkerchief before taking a few more unsteady steps. Suddenly, she stumbled, her cane flying to one side and her purse to the other. She landed on the grass, her legs sprawled before her.

“Oh!” Garnet cried. Her cup rattled as she set it down on the step, and she stood up, puzzled for a moment, wondering what to do. Should she go help the woman or would she get up by herself? But the woman sat as though she were in a daze. Garnet hopped down the step and hurried to her side. “Are you okay?” she asked.

The woman's pale blue eyes fluttered behind her gold-rimmed glasses. “Y-yes, I think so,” she replied breathlessly. “I don't know what happened. It-it must be this heat.” She put a hand to her chest and said, “My pills. They're in my purse.”