A moment’s hesitation flickered across Edythe’s face before she gave a slight, decisive nod. “Yes, please invite Lord Ellington to join me,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.
Mr. Hawthorne nodded, giving Mrs. MacTavish a hint of a smile, and left with a flourish to convey the invitation.
Edythe couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement at the prospect of seeing James.
Mrs. MacTavish soon had the table set for two, the fine china and silverware with the Cavendish crest in place.
“Miss Cavendish,” James greeted as he entered the Garden Room.
Edythe rose and curtsied, and James hurried to her side and helped her up. “That’s not necessary between us.” He took her hand.
“Please, be seated. I’m so glad you’re here,” she honestly declared and hoped he didn’t realize she was nervous.
He nodded, his smile even wider. “Do you find the hall to your liking?” James’s voice carried a note of genuine concern. “I realized after our journey you had left these behind, and I thought it best to return them.” He presented her with her white leather gloves.
“Thank you, Lord Ellington,” she said, feeling the formality of the title. “Your kindness is most welcome.” James smiled, a hint of amusement in his eyes at her formal address. “We are past titles. We’ve shared a private dinner and train compartment. Please call me James, Edythe?” He gave her a questioning glance.
“That will be fine, James.” She found the butterflies in her stomach were almost gone.
“Kindness?” He gazed at her, a playful smile on his lips. “If you hadn’t left your gloves, I would have brought you a pouch of roasted chestnuts as an excuse to see you.”
Edythe felt a warm blush rise to her cheeks. “Then I suppose I should be grateful for my forgetfulness.” She exchanged a playful glance and chuckled softly. “Though I must admit, roasted chestnuts do sound rather tempting.”
Their conversation flowed easily as they shared the meal. James offered insights into the local community, and Edythe expressed her aspirations for the manor.
She spoke of her discovery of Sir Thomas Cavendish’s letter tucked in the pages of the family history. “Sir Thomas must have been quite the figure,” she mused, “a man of courage and vision.”
James nodded, his interest evident. “Indeed, he was a remarkable man. Knighted by Queen Elizabeth not only for circumnavigating the globe but for his daring acts of privateering. His voyages not only brought him fame but also fortune in the form of gold, silk, and treasures for the crown.”
“How do you know so much about Sir Thomas?” Edythe couldn’t help but wonder about James’s knowledge of her family’s history.
James smiled a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. “My great-grandmother was a Cavendish, as I mentioned when we first met on the train. The mystery and history of the family have always fascinated me. I’ve spent years researching and piecing together the stories of our ancestors. As a family relation, Mrs. MacTavish has been kind enough to grant me access to the library and show me various artifacts. It’s a bit of a passion of mine. Do you know about Sir Richard’s parrot?” James asked with a chuckle.
“No, I haven’t read about Sir Richard yet,” Edythe said as Mrs. MacTavish began to remove the dishes from the table. Edythe gave James her full attention. “But you won’t keep me in the dark, will you?”
James glanced at her and shook his head. “I would never keep you in the dark. This is one of my grandmother’s favorite family stories.” He wiped his mouth with his serviette and put it on the table. “Sir Richard Cavendish was known for his eccentricities. During a grand feast, Sir Richard, in an attempt to impress a visiting dignitary, had trained his pet parrot to recite Shakespeare. However, the parrot, perhaps sensing the importance of the occasion, chose instead to squawk out the cook’s colorful exclamations he heard from the kitchen. The banquet room fell into a stunned silence before erupting into laughter, and the dignitary declared it the most authentic rendition of Shakespeare he had ever heard.”
Edythe burst out in uncontrollable laughter. “I’m not sure who would be more embarrassed, Sir Richard or the cook. I assume the parrot was saved and not the main course for dinner the following night.”
“No, the parrot went on to learn more acceptable vocabulary. Have you had time to explore the hall? Seen the tapestry?” James inquired, “It hangs in the Mistress’ private sitting room?”
Caught off guard, Edythe shook her head. “It was mentioned in the journal, I have seen it in passing, but I haven’t yet had the chance to study it up close.”
With a glance at Mrs. MacTavish, who had been attending to their needs, James suggested, “Perhaps we could look at it now?”
Mrs. MacTavish agreed, and together, the three of them climbed the stairs and went into the private sitting room.
“This is a masterpiece of needlework,” James gazed at the large piece in awe, “an embroidered chronicle of the Cavendish legacy. The threads tell a story of alliances and valor. On onehalf,” he gestured to the left, “is the stately façade of Cavendish Hall against a background of the changing seasons, each colorful thread capturing the grandeur of the estate through time. Notice how one small patch along the flower bed remains bare, a quiet spot among the blooms. The other half,” he turned to the right, “shows the ballroom bustling with life, the figures dressed in the finery of bygone eras, each figure with a story to tell. The petite point stitches of their faces create unique individuals and depict everything from happiness and revelry to sadness.”
Edythe’s eyes were drawn to the woven image of the grandfather clock within the tapestry. “Look there,” she said, pointing to the clock in the fabric scene. “I wonder why that time, 11:30 in particular was stitched into the picture?”
“It’s the time displayed on the great clock in the ballroom.” James nodded. His voice took on a solemnity she hadn’t heard before. “It’s a significant time. It is believed to be the last time Lord Alistair was seen. The family history tells of a housemaid who, on the morning after the All Saints’ Day ball, found the clock stopped at that exact time. No one was able to restart the timepiece.”
Mrs. MacTavish added, “The clock has not chimed since, Miss Cavendish. It’s as if time itself mourns for Lord Alistair.”
“There is more to see,” James pointed to the intricately woven family crest at the center. “You see, this crest has been in the family before the hall was built,” he explained, his finger tracing the embroidered shield. “But the lion there,” he continued, indicating the majestic beast stitched beside the crest, “appeared one night after the Battle of Culloden. No one knows how.” He turned to Edythe. “It is said on nights of full moons or family milestones, the scenes stir as if the tapestry breathes with the house itself.”
Edythe’s eyes widened in wonder. “The lion just appeared?” she asked, her voice filled with skepticism.
