The Rightful Lord (The Saga Of Wolfbridge Manor Book 3), Sahara Kelly [english novels for students .TXT] 📗

squinted and leaned over. “Yes, that’s it. And it is signed…Ever Yours. No name, just the endearment.” She looked up. “Not much help…”

“Love letters,” sighed Royce. “It makes sense. What would you want to save forever? Letters from someone you loved.”

“Why Royce,” Gabriel’s eyes widened. “You’re a romantic.”

The jest broke the tension as everyone laughed.

“Let that be a lesson to you all.” He laughed back. “Never be too quick to judge a person’s character. They may have hidden depths.”

Gwyneth nodded, amused, then returned to her task and separated more sheets as gently as possible. “All look to be in the same hand,” she commented. “And some are torn, or folded and faded.” She looked up. “I’d hazard a guess that someone read and re-read these words many, many times over.”

“Very likely,” Harry mused. “The fact that they were rolled and stored where they were? Yes, I’d say they mattered a great deal to someone.”

“Is there a signature or a name on any of them?” Evan asked.

“Not that I can see at first glance.”

“Probably not the Fairhursts,” Jeremy observed. “I would guess that these things have been in that wall for a long time. I mean a very long time.”

Gwyneth continued her perusal of the letters. “There were visits. One is mentioned here that happened in the summer, it seems. Whoever wrote this says ‘thou has filled my heart with joy. To walk with thee under the stars hath been a journey to heaven’. They certainly wouldn’t do that in the winter.”

“Are any of them dated?”

Gabriel’s question had Gwyneth poring over the old-fashioned writing again. She shook her head. “I can’t make out anything that might be a date…” she paused. “Wait. Oh…here. There’s mention of something here. ‘How lucky we were to meet at the R. Ex. And how wondrous the day…’”

She looked up. “Or words to that effect. The writing is quite old fashioned and not easy to read, so it could have been…an exhibition perhaps? I can’t think of any other.”

“Hmm.” Jeremy’s eyebrows met as he frowned in concentration. “R. Ex. I have no idea what it might be. But the phrasing is old fashioned. I’d almost say perhaps in Queen Elizabeth’s reign or thereabouts. So…mid fifteen-hundreds, perhaps?”

“Lord, that’s…going on three centuries, give or take fifty years…” Harry blinked.

“Well, we’re closing in,” grinned Gwyneth. “We now know that P and W fell in love sometime in the middle of the sixteenth century.”

“That narrows it down,” said Royce, his tone reeking of sarcasm.

“Oh ye of little faith,” reproved Gabriel. “Every clue should lead us somewhere…”

“But where, is the question.” Evan voiced everyone’s thoughts.

“Debrett’s? Would that help?” Gwyneth looked at Royce.

He shook his head. “If we could get some sort of name to work with, then yes, we might be able to find something, but with only initials and a rough date…”

“Damn,” muttered Gwyneth. “This is annoying.”

“Read the rest of the letters, my Lady,” said Harry. “There may yet be something useful.”

Gwyneth looked around. “Gabriel, would you pull that little table over here? I will lay out these papers as smoothly as possible, so that we can all look. I may be missing something in them.”

Within a few moments, everyone had gathered to peruse the ancient notes and letters; candles burned bright and silence fell, broken only by the brush of limbs against chairs and the slight rustle of papers against the surface of the tables.

“Oh,” Jeremy leaned in. “This might be a clue.” He carefully touched the letter. “In this one there’s some odd lines. And I’d guess it’s a woman’s hand, by the way. The letters are shaped very elegantly. She says, ‘our little pleasure groweth apace’,” he looked up, “I’m guessing at some of these words, of course, but then comes this— ‘thou wouldst have pride in what hath been created. C is content, his wish hath been fulfilled.’”

“Let me see…” Gwyneth craned her neck and read the letter. “Yes, you’re right, Jeremy. Those are the words…and if we assume these letters were written by a woman, then we can deduce even more about these lovers, perhaps…”

“It sounds to me as if they had a child.”

Royce’s remark brought every head up as they stared at him, allowing his words to sink home.

“By God, yes,” Harry nodded.

“It does make sense,” said Gabriel.

“An illegitimate one, d’you think?” Evan questioned.

“Highly likely.” Royce looked at Gwyneth. “Would you agree?”

She sighed. “I would. Definitely. So that’s one more piece of information we can add to our list.”

“We have a list?” Gabriel asked.

Gwyneth rolled her eyes. “I’m about to make one. Let me get some paper.” She rose and walked to the bureau, rummaging through it and completely missing the quick look exchanged by Gabriel, Jeremy and Evan.

“Here we are.” She returned bearing several pristine sheets, a pen and ink. “Best move the letters. I don’t want to add any more blotches, since they are hard enough to read as it is.”

“Time for me to set the kitchen to rights for the morning,” Evan stood and stretched. “You don’t need me for lists.”

Jeremy rose as well. “I’ll give you a hand,” he offered. “It’s growing late, and it’s been a long day.”

Gwyneth, immersed in her chore, merely nodded. “Thank you for the gloves, Jeremy. I want to finish this list before retiring.”

Royce leaned back in his chair and glanced at Harry. “Fancy a game of chess before bed?”

Harry smiled. “You know, that would be just the ticket.”

He stood and followed Royce to the far side of the room where a chessboard and pieces were stored in a nicely carved box designed just for that purpose. Darcy waddled over and settled down by their feet, content that two of his favourite people were in the same spot.

Gabriel put another log