Chapter Seven

October 30, 1850

W ith All Saints' Eve one day away, Cavendish Hall echoed with whispers of the past. Edythe and James, driven by the urgency of Alistair's warnings, had tried everything to uncover the curse binding the manor. They pored over ancient texts, deciphered cryptic symbols etched into the walls, and consulted with local historians who told them the long-forgotten legends.

But as the day progressed and the dreaded hour drew closer, all they had was one final clue. It led them to the barren patch in the garden that Edythe had found, where roses refused to grow.

"What could we find here? It is a section of the garden and a barren one at that." James's frustration matched her own.

"We have no other clues to follow." Edythe took the shovel James put on the ground and began to dig.

"I'll do that, Edythe." James took the shovel from her. "It's dark, and it's not safe."

"Nonsense. Prudence had me digging up the garden at all times during the day or night. I can certainly do it here." Edythe wanted to tell him that his chivalry was misplaced, but instead, she said nothing. James' persistence finally wore her down. She watched, her hands clenched in her skirts, as he dug up the soil.

His coat was off, his sleeves rolled up, and he had dug down at least six feet when the shovel struck something solid.

"What is it? What did you find?" Edythe bent down and called down to him.

"I'm not sure. Hold the lantern over me." He put down the shovel and worked with his hands. "It may be a large rock and nothing of value." But he worked to free it anyway.

Finally, he pulled out a packet wrapped in oilcloth.

"Here, take this." James handed the oilcloth packet to Edythe before climbing out of the hole.

In the dim lantern light, Edythe unfolded the packet to reveal a message signed by Isabelle. "It's too dark to read this properly," she murmured.

As she attempted to hand the letter to James for a better look, a sudden breeze whisked it from her grasp. "Enough, Alistair," Edythe said firmly, her patience wearing thin with the unseen disturbances. She peered into the hole just in time to see the letter flutter down to its original resting place. Lying on the ground, she stretched her arm towards it but fell short.

"I'll retrieve it," James insisted, assisting Edythe to her feet before descending once more. As he reached for the letter, the ground shook subtly, sending a cascade of soil down the sides of the hole.

Edythe's hand reached out, her voice urgent. "James, please!"

He shook his head, the soil crumbling around him. "No, Edythe, it's too dangerous. Stand away."

"No, I won't leave you!" Her refusal was adamant, her hand unwavering in the air.

He reached up. As their fingers touched the earth gave way, sending James tumbling into the darkness below.

Edythe's scream pierced the night as she descended after him, finding James motionless but alive. She cradled his head, pressing the letter to his chest, her tears falling freely.

"James, can you hear me?" Her voice was a whisper, trembling in the dark. She brushed his hair out of his eyes, removed the handkerchief from her waist, and cleared the soil from his face.

"Edythe?" His faint response brought her a surge of hope.

"Yes, James. I'm here." Relieved to hear his voice, she steadied her tone despite the fear gripping her heart.

"What now?" His voice was weak.

"Nothing matters but you at the moment." She paused and bent close to him. "I won't let anything happen to you."

"Miss Cavendish!" It was Mrs. MacTavish from above, lantern light spilling into the pit.

"I'm here with James. He needs help," Edythe called back, relief washing over her as help was on the way.

"Help is coming," Mrs. MacTavish assured her. "Hold on just a little longer."

Duncan and Cooper's efforts were swift as they carefully hoisted James from the pit, his body slack yet his fingers still tightly wound around Isabelle's letter. They transported him to the manor with urgency, placing him gently on the drawing room sofa. Edythe, her resolve as strong as ever, stood beside him, her hand finding his and holding on.

The room was quiet, save for the soft ticking of the clock and the occasional crackle from the fireplace. Dr. Manning had been clear—James would recover, the sedative ensuring his rest would be undisturbed.

"Miss Cavendish, you should rest as well," Mrs. MacTavish suggested softly, her concern evident in her furrowed brow.

Edythe shook her head, her gaze never leaving James. "I'll stay," she insisted quietly. "He wasn't alone in the pit; he won't be alone now."

Mrs. MacTavish nodded, understanding the unspoken bond that had formed between Edythe and James. "I'll be just down the hall if you need anything," she offered before stepping out, leaving Edythe to watch over James through the night.

In the stillness of the night, as Edythe sat by James's side, a profound realization dawned upon her. The music box, an heirloom of the Cavendish family, was not merely an object of sentimental value but a guide to the truth that lay shrouded in the harmonies of its song. As she pondered Isabelle's cryptic message, she felt a connection to the past that was both haunting and enlightening.

James's eyes fluttered open, his gaze clouded with confusion but finding clarity as he locked eyes with Edythe. "The letter," he whispered, urgency threading his voice. "Isabelle's words… they're the key." The unspoken love between Alistair and Isabelle, captured in their letters, now seemed to reflect the growing bond between Edythe and James.

"I couldn't bear losing you. Never seeing you again. I couldn't let our last words be angry ones," James admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Our argument…it was meaningless. I wanted to protect you, but I see now that you don't need my protection."

"No," she insisted. "I don't need you to protect me. But I do need your love. I need you to love me for who I am."

"I pledge myself to you." His declaration was heartfelt. "I love you, Edythe. I've known from the moment we met when you spilled the chestnuts on the station platform and rushed for the train."

"I have been waiting for you for a long time, James Ellington, long before I met you on the train. I will not let you go."

As they shared this tender moment, Edythe felt a sense of hope. Perhaps Alistair, after a century of bitterness, could sense the genuine love between her and James. Maybe, just maybe, he would see that there was still hope for the Cavendish legacy—a chance for redemption and peace.

"Rest now, James," Edythe urged gently. "You've done enough. I think I know what we need to do."

As James drifted back into a healing slumber, Edythe sat vigilant, a silent guardian ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. Perhaps now, with a glimmer of understanding, she and James could prove to Alistair that love could indeed conquer all.