The art of embroidery uncannily links two fascinating women of different eras and their equally passionate love stories

In an expensive London restaurant, Julia Lovat receives a gift that will change her life. At first glance it is a book of exquisite seventeenth-century embroidery patterns belonging to a woman named Catherine Ann Tregenna. Yet in its margins are the faintest diary entries; they reveal that "Cat" and others were stolen from their Cornish church in 1625 by Muslim pirates and taken on a brutal voyage to Morocco to be auctioned off as slaves. Captivated by this dramatic discovery, Julia sets off to North Africa to determine the authenticity of the book and to uncover more of Cat's mesmerizing story. There, in the company of a charismatic Moroccan guide, amid the sultry heat, the spice markets, and exotic ruins, Julia will discover buried secrets. And in Morocco--just as Cat did before her--she will lose her heart.

Set almost 400 years apart, the stories of these two women converge in an extraordinary and haunting manner that will make readers wonder--is history fated to repeat itself?

A literary mystery, historical adventure, and dual love story, The Tenth Gift literally crosses genres with narrative ease and prose that is as captivating as the characters who people this unforgettable tale.

From the Hardcover edition.

There are only two or three human stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they have never happened before, like larks that have been singing the same five notes for thousands of years."

I had scribbled this down in a notebook after reading it in a novel the night before I was due to meet Michael and was looking forward to slipping it into our conversation at dinner, despite knowing his likely reaction (negative; dismissive--he was always skeptical about anything that could even vaguely be termed "romantic"). He was a lecturer in European literature, to which he presented an uncompro mising post-structuralist stance, as if books were just meat for the butcher's block, mere muscle and tendon, bone and cartilage, which required flensing and separating and scrutiny. For his part, Michael found my thinking on the subject of fiction both emotional and unrigorous, which meant that at the start of our relationship we had the most furious arguments, which would hurt me so personally as to bring me to the edge of tears, but now, seven years in, we were able to bait each other cheerfully. Anyway, it made a change from discussing, or avoiding, the subject of Anna, or the future.

To begin with, it had been hard to live like this, on snatched moments, the future always in abeyance, but I had gotten used to it little by little so that now my life had a recognizable pattern to it. It was a bit pared down and lacking in what others might consider crucial areas, but it suited me. Or so I told myself, time and time again.

I dressed with particular care for dinner: a devore silk blouse, a tailored black skirt that skimmed the knees, stockings (Michael was predictably male in his preferences), a pair of suede ankle-strap shoes in which I could just about manage the half-mile to the restaurant and back. And my favorite hand-embroidered shawl: bursts of bright pansies worked on a ground of fine black cashmere.

I've always said you have to be an optimist to be a good embroiderer. A large piece (like the shawl) can take six months to a year of inspired and dedicated work. Determination, too; a dogged spirit like that of a mountaineer, taking one measured step at a time rather than panicking at the thought of the whole immense task, the crevasse field and headwall of ice. You may think I exaggerate the difficulties-- a bit of cloth, a needle and thread: How hard can it be? But once you've laid out a small fortune on cashmere and another on the silks, or there's a tight deadline for some nervous girl's wedding, or an exhibition, and you have not only to design and plan but to stitch a million stitches, I can tell you the pressure is palpable.

We were meeting at Enoteca Turi, near the southern end of Putney's bridge, a smart Tuscan restaurant that we usually reserved for celebrations. There were no birthdays looming, no publications or promotions, that I knew of. The latter would, in any case, be hard for me to achieve, since I ran my own business, and since even the word business was something of a stretch for my one-woman enterprise: a tiny crafts shop in the Seven Dials. The crafts shop was more of an indulgence than a moneymaking concern. An aunt had died five years ago, leaving me a decent legacy; my mother had followed two years later, and I was the only child. The lease on the shop had fallen into my lap; it had less than a year to run and I hadn't decided what to do with it at the end of that time. I made more money from commissions than from the so-called business, and even those were more of a way of passing time, stitching away the minutes while awaiting my next tryst with Michael.

I arrived early. They do say relationships are...

 

 

"This is such a lush book! It transported me to another time and other places, enticing me into an exotic, turbulent world in which past and present are seamlessly woven into a mesmerizing story."

 

"What a tangled web Jane Johnson weaves with the opening of a book of old embroidery patterns! Two heroines cross paths across centuries. Unworthy lovers, treachery, ghosts, and pirates march through the streets and seas of modern day England, 17th century Cornwall, and Morocco as each woman tries to find what is most important to her. Discovering one's authenticity is a story in which time doesn't matter, and Johnson stitches the threads of both stories into a lovely, enticing whole."

 

"I was totally enthralled from the first page to the last by this dramatic, exotic, and passionate tale that slips seamlessly through time. Jane Johnson's wonderfully researched book leaves the fragrance of spices and the rustle of beautiful silks lingering in the mind with images of two exceptional women and the men in their lives."

 

"A gripping historical mystery based on historical fact. A sensuous, richly-textured novel."

 

"Exciting, intriguing, fascinating and also illuminating."

 

"Brings to life a forgotten part of England's past: the capture of inhabitants of the southern coast by Barbary corsairs in the early sixteen hundreds. Rich with detail, wonderfully researched, this is a novel that will surprise and delight."

 

JANE JOHNSON is the Publishing Director at HarperCollins UK. While she was researching the story of an ancestor stolen by pirates, remarkable events changed her life. She now works remotely for part of the year from a Berber village in the mountains of Morocco.


From the Hardcover edition.