Lucia narrowed her eyes and she took a step back, glaring first at Edith, then Gulliver. To Tabitha’s surprise, Gulliver ignored Lucia, instead of responding with one of his usual placatory comments or gestures.
Maybe he has fallen out of love with her, after all,Tabitha thought, turning to Mark, who was staring at Lucia in surprise.
‘Perhaps you could show us whatever you’ve found that won’t be damaged by its removal,’ Tabitha suggested, trying to ease the tension.
‘Of course,’ he replied and disappeared back inside the room.
After their discovery, Tabitha and Gulliver had pushed the door back in place and run upstairs to Edith like two excited children. The revelation of the Chaucer manuscript had roused her from the lethargy that had enveloped her since her gastric bug.
‘We need experts,’ she had said. ‘The British Museum, perhaps? It was where Wilbur took it initially.’
Tabitha had suggested Marquess House, the huge research centre based in the manor of the same name, on the edge of the village where her parents had their hotel.
‘I could call my friend, Briony,’ she had continued. ‘Her brother, Mark, is in charge of The Dairy, part of the research centre at Marquess House. It specialises in authenticating documents and storing them. Mark’s a renowned expert in his field,’ she had explained.
‘Their reputation is exemplary,’ said Gulliver. ‘Do you think they’ll help?’
‘I think so,’ she had replied and immediately rung Briony Mackensie to check she had the most up-to-date number for Briony’s brother, Mark Llewellyn.
As soon as Tabitha had explained the situation, Mark and his wife, Stephanie, had gathered a small team and headed straight to Cerensthorpe Abbey, where Edith had insisted they all stay.
‘I will have to ask you to wear gloves,’ said Mark as he reappeared carrying a cardboard box. ‘This is the original authentication paperwork, but there’s an anomaly. This document states there are twenty-five tales rather than the usual twenty-four in every other version ofThe Canterbury Tales. At first, they wondered if the entire thing was a fake, but apparently not. The extra story,The Mother’s Tale, has been loosely translated from Old English and transcribed. With luck, the original is inside the glass box with the Chaucer.’
‘Grandfather mentions the extra tale in his diary,’ Edith said. ‘Gull, have you given Mark a copy?’
‘Tabitha gave me the transcript she’s been working on. It’s very interesting,’ said Mark. ‘There is a suggestion it might beTudor. Incidentally, did you ever discover what happened to the child?’
Tabitha looked up in surprise as Edith shook her head.
‘Until Tabitha typed it out for me, I had no idea about the little girl, Eglantine. It’s strange to think there might be more Swanne offspring out in the world. Sadly, no one has ever presented themselves here, which makes me wonder if the poor thing died.’
Tabitha could not help but glance at Lucia, who was glaring at Edith with a look of intense hatred. A moment later, her expression became neutral and Tabitha wondered if she had imagined it.
‘Perhaps you could hire a genealogist,’ Mark suggested.
‘Let’s solve this mystery first,’ said Gulliver. ‘Are there any documents giving more information about the extra tale?’
‘No and the copy here is a typed transcript from the early 1900s. Unfortunately, some of the ink is blurred. We could take it back to Marquess House and scan it, then we’ll be able to clean it up.’
‘Is it readable?’ asked Edith.
‘What do you think, Tabs?’ said Mark, showing her the top page.
Tabitha studied it; the majority of the closely typed page was legible.
‘Would photocopying damage it?’ she asked.
‘Not these pages, no; they’re standard paper from the era. It’s a bit thin but sturdy enough. Depending on the copier, it might be possible to clean the pages up a little, to make them easier to read. Although, I’d prefer to do it myself.’
He gave Tabitha an apologetic grimace.
‘Take him to your office, Tabitha, dear,’ said Edith, her voice bubbling with excitement.
Mark, still wearing his protective white suit, followed Tabitha out of the library.
‘This is a lovely house,’ said Mark as they wandered through the winding corridors.
‘Not as grand as Marquess House,’ she said.
