Chapter One

September 12, 1850

East Coast Main Line

M iss Edythe Cavendish's heart fluttered with a peculiar blend of trepidation and exhilaration as she boarded the train, her shoulder brushing against a gentleman's arm in the chaos of the boarding crowd. She offered a quick, apologetic smile to the stranger whose startling summer blue eyes lingered in her mind as she settled into the velvet seat of the train compartment. A half-hour later, the rhythmic clatter of wheels against the tracks echoed her own restless thoughts. Her hand instinctively reached for her reticule. She withdrew a crisp and formal letter from Mr. Hughes, the solicitor. She had read it and reread it at least one hundred times. The document informed her of an inheritance most unexpected—a manor house, no less.

The correspondence arrived three weeks ago at her cousin Prudence's home, where she had lived for the last ten years since her parents' passing. Mr. Hughes's letter set off a flurry of activity. By the end of the week, preparations and farewells were set into motion. Yet, amidst the bustle, a shadow of Prudence's discontent cloyed the air like a pall, along with vivid descriptions of a haunted decrepit house. It was clear, in the tightness of Prudence's smiles and the sharpness of her gaze, that her cousin resented her good fortune, or was it her loss of control over the modest inheritance left to Edythe by her parents? To her relief, Mr. Hughes saw to that as well.

With her solicitor's assurance, the house was not decrepit, and with his help, Edythe settled her affairs in London and made the necessary travel arrangements. Prudence, ever the matriarch, had deemed Edythe's solitary journey inconceivable and insisted a seasoned chaperone was required for a young lady such as herself. As a result, Prudence condescended to go with Edythe; after all, who else would go with her? Edythe quickly reminded her while young ladies indeed needed a chaperone, spinsters, the word Prudence used to reference her, did not. So here she was, on her own, aboard the train to Sommer-by-the-Sea and Cavendish Hall.

As Edythe settled into the rhythmic sway of the train, she once again unfolded the letter from Mr. Hughes. The words "rightful and true heir to the Cavendish land and all its holdings" stood out, evidence of the solicitor's thorough decade-long research and the unexpected turn her life was about to take.

"While the Cavendish legacy allows for female heirs, the lineage has been meticulously traced to ensure that only a direct descendant, who embodies the true spirit and virtues of the Cavendish name, can claim the estate. It appears, Miss Cavendish, that you are the first in a century to meet these stringent criteria. Furthermore," the letter continued, "it is important for you to be aware that Cavendish Hall has been without a resident Cavendish for the past 100 years since the passing of Lord Alistair, the last recognized lord of the manor. The estate has been maintained through a trust established by your ancestors, ensuring its preservation until such time as a direct heir could be located and take rightful ownership."

With the proof of her lineage secured within the crisp folds of the paper, Edythe felt the weight of her new responsibility— she was, indeed, the last of the Cavendish line, bound for a home she'd never known, a home waiting for her arrival.

She glanced at the empty paper cone beside her and sighed. The shrill cry of the steam whistle broke her reverie. The train slowed, and Edythe seized the opportunity to disembark briefly and get another helping of chestnuts at the provincial station. The platform bustled with life, the air filled with the scent of coal smoke and the cries of vendors hawking their wares. She exchanged a few coins for a paper cone of roasted chestnuts, the warmth a comfort against the autumn chill. As she ate her treat, she gazed out into the countryside, thoroughly enjoying the view.

As the whistle blew its warning, Edythe turned to see the train lurch forward without her.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed the young man with the summer blue eyes she had brushed against in London striding toward her, concern etched on his brow. "Miss, your train!" he called out.

Panicked, her snack spilled out on the ground as she dashed toward the moving train, her boots pounding the wooden planks of the platform.

The young man leapt into action. He jumped onto the train and then extended his hand. "Quick. Grab my hand."

Edythe's fingers met his in a desperate grasp, and with a strength that belied his gentlemanly appearance, he hoisted her onto the train. They stumbled into the compartment, a tangle of limbs and breathless laughter.

"Thank you," Edythe breathed out, her cheeks flushed, her composure ruffled like the hem of her skirts. As she steadied herself, she took a moment to look at the man who came to her aid. He was tall, his stature commanding yet not imposing. An unruly lock of his chestnut hair fell across his forehead. Her fingers itched to brush it aside for a clear view of his eyes. As if he heard her, he raked his hand through his hair and exposed eyes, a striking shade of blue filled with concern and humor. Despite the urgency of the moment, there was a gentleness about him, a reassuring calm masked by the quickness of his actions.

"It was my pleasure to assist," he replied, his tone light, a smile touching the corners of his eyes. "I'm James Ellington, and you are?"

"Edythe Cavendish," she said, finding her composure amidst the unexpected tumult. Her name hung in the air between them, a note of significance resonating with unspoken context.

James's smile faltered for a fraction of a moment, a flicker of recognition crossing his features before he mastered his expression once more. "Cavendish, you say? That is a name with history in Sommer-by-the-Sea. My great-grandmother's marriage to a Cavendish nephew joins our family lines, though distantly. It appears fate has more than our shared destination in mind."

As the train resumed its journey, Edythe felt a flicker of gratitude for this unexpected encounter, and the discovery of a distant family relation brought a subtle warmth to her new adventure. With his easy charm and timely rescue, James Ellington had turned an alarming moment into a fortunate meeting. And as for Prudence, who had so readily labeled her a burden and a spinster at 22—well, Edythe mused, any designs Prudence had on controlling the Cavendish inheritance or Edythe's life would now have to be set aside.

Edythe's fingers fidgeted with the hem of her white leather glove, a nervous habit that betrayed her unease in the confines of the train compartment. Her eyes flitted to the gentleman opposite her, whose ease and poise contrasted sharply with her self-conscious restraint.

James Ellington regarded her with a gentle, disarming smile. "Is this your first time traveling to Sommer-by-the-Sea?"

Edythe's gaze lingered on James, taking in the casual tilt of his head. She put her gloves on the seat beside her before she ruined them. "Yes, it is," she replied, her voice steadier than she felt. "I've only lived in London. From what I've been told, Sommer-by-the-Sea appears to be a different world altogether."

"I assure you, the visit is well worth the journey," he said, his tone soothing the edges of her apprehension. James's smile broadened, a twinkle of shared understanding in his eyes. "It's a place out of time, in many ways," he said. "But I have no doubt you'll find it charming. The village sits on the coast of the North Sea which has a way of welcoming newcomers."

Edythe leaned forward, the newfound knowledge of their distant relation adding an ease of familiarity to her inquiry. "Do you travel to Sommer-by-the-Sea often?"

"Aye. I come as often as I can to pay respects to my friend and former commanding officer in his majesty's service, Lord Barrington. With my law studies in London completed, Lord Barrington has encouraged me to practice law in Sommer-by-the-Sea."

Edythe nodded, impressed by his ambition and his notable connection. "That's quite commendable. Sommer-by-the-Sea will be fortunate to have you." She sat back. She was not surprised to learn he was both a man of duty and principle.

James glanced out the window at the passing countryside before turning back to Edythe with a thoughtful look. "If I may be so bold, Miss Cavendish, are you staying at Cavendish Hall? It's quite the local landmark, and given your surname, it is a reasonable assumption."

Edythe was taken aback by his deduction, curiosity crossing her face. "Yes, I am. It's a recent development, one I'm still coming to terms with."

As the hours passed, James recounted tales of his travels including a humorous story of his travel mishaps involving a mischievous goat and a country fair. The story had Edythe in tears, laughing, softening the space between them.

As the dusk sky turned amber and violet, James produced a small hamper and presented a modest dinner he brought along. "I find train journeys are always improved with a bit of food," he remarked as they shared the simple meal bridging the gap between strangers. "And to be honest, I wasn't looking forward to enjoying it alone. I am grateful for your company."

Later, as the rhythm of the train lulled her into a drowsy haze, Edythe's head nodded, her resistance to the day's emotions giving way to rest. James watched over her with a protective gaze until he, too, surrendered to the gentle rocking. Hours later, the train whistled its arrival into Sommer-by-the-Sea, and James gently roused her. "We've arrived, Miss Cavendish." Their journey together at an end, they each gathered their things and waited for the train to come to a halt.

James helped her down the train steps and tipped his hat. "Thank you for being such an enjoyable companion on an otherwise dull adventure."

The brisk sea air greeted Edythe, prompting her to draw her shawl tighter around her shoulders. She took a deep breath, the salty tang of the sea a welcome change from London's coal smoke and fog, as a dignified man approached, his posture straight and his expression severe yet kind.

"Miss Cavendish, I presume?" he inquired, his voice carrying the unmistakable authority of one accustomed to service. "I am Mr. Cooper, the coachman of your estate. I've been sent to escort you to the manor."

Edythe turned to James, a question in her eyes, but he was already stepping back, a respectful distance between them. "It appears you're in capable hands, Miss Cavendish." He gave her a courteous nod. "I wish you all the best and thank you for sharing the journey with me."

With that, James tipped his hat and merged into the crowd, leaving Edythe to wonder about the man who had been her companion for the past hours. As she watched him vanish into the crowd, she found herself grappling with a sense of loss, as if a part of her was departing with him. And a silent wish to see him again.

Mr. Cooper gestured towards a carriage waiting nearby, its horses stamping impatiently. "If you would follow me, Miss," he said, offering his arm to guide her. The station porter had already stowed her trunk and other baggage on the carriage.

As Edythe settled into the carriage, the mystery of James Ellington, the lilt of his voice, and his striking soft blue eyes played on her mind like a haunting melody.