“By the time my mother came along, and then the Internet, her aunt taught her all she’d learned, which got my mother hooked for sure.”
“Are you hooked now?” April teased him.
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far, but I am interested. My aunt and mother have done so much work. I’d like to visit more places they found in their research.”
Eleanor said, “Here we are. This chapel was built with the original part of the castle, not one of the later additions. Notice the wooden oak beams,” she pointed overhead, “are still in excellent condition because they were protected from the elements.”
The small chapel was lined with pews made from what looked like the same oak as the beams. There were rows of seven pews on each side of the middle aisle leading toward the gilded altar. Above and behind the altar a massive stained-glass window was divided into three sections. Each section depicted different Biblical scenes in bright, vibrant colors—the birth of Christ, the crucifixion, and the ascension.
“This is one of the finest stained-glass creations left from medieval England,” Eleanor told them. “It’s unbelievable how it survived all the battles, wars, and destruction for centuries.”
April’s tone was sincere. “I do believe God does protect some things for future generations to show us how He’s worked throughout time—and to encourage us that His will does prevail during any calamity.”
Ryan shifted from one foot to another. The peaceful silence in the chapel was palpable. April sat in a pew and bowed her head. Eleanor walked to the front of the room and looked at the beautiful glass. Ryan, uncertain what to do, looked around and admired the detail of the carved wooden pews.
The end of each pew held different intricate carvings—a shepherd with his sheep, a man slaying a giant, the parting of the Red Sea, a rod of wood budding flowers and almonds, water pouring from a rock. All were skillfully done, and time had not altered the vividness of the designs.
Continuing his perusal of the chapel, he noticed the detail of the wood wainscoting on the walls. It rose up the wall to about ten feet and painted a dull white.
“I see you admiring the wainscoting. It was added in around the fifteenth century by one of the kings. We don’t have any wainscoting left from the thirteenth century, although it’s mentioned in many of the surviving manuscripts.”
April was still seated, looking around the room, taking in the architecture. She was at ease, her face relaxed.
Eleanor strode to a door in the corner. She pointed to a huge tapestry on the wall, but it did not depict another scene from the Bible as Ryan would have imagined. Instead, there were two knights standing over a long narrow table. In the middle of the table stood a gold goblet, which glowed. The two knights had their swords drawn as if in defense of the goblet.
“This tapestry depicts two of King Arthur’s knights guarding the Holy Grail. The detailed stitching is magnificent. It must have taken years to complete. The devotion to the project was quite immense.”
April said, “We have a book at the shop that’s devoted strictly to the study of ancient tapestries. It goes into great detail about the types of stitching they used, the length of time it took, and the types of fabrics they used. It also discusses the reasons the subject matter for the tapestries was chosen since stitchery was more than a pastime.”
She stepped closer to the tapestry. “They warmed rooms against the cold stone and added a decorative touch, usually reflecting some heroic or historic moments in the lord of the manor’s life or of the country.”
Ryan glanced at Eleanor, but her face was difficult to read. Either she was in awe of April’s knowledge, or she was a bit miffed at someone hijacking her job.
“Eleanor, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your tour. I’m so captivated with the history of this castle and its contents.”
“You don’t have to apologize. I enjoy your interest. And you’re job security as many times as you’ve been here. I’ve never heard all of that about tapestries in such detail. It must be a fascinating read. I may have to get a copy.”
“Sure. I’ll put it aside for you.”
Ryan placed his hands on his hips. “Well, ladies, as fascinating as this discussion is about needlework, where are we off to next?”
Eleanor smiled at him. “We’ll move on to the bedchambers.” Leaving the chapel, they took a short walk down a wide hall and up a set of winding stairs of worn stone.
“They must’ve had small feet.” Ryan motioned for April to step ahead of him as they followed their guide. He placed a foot gingerly on each narrow step as he climbed.
“Yes, they did. You’ll see some of their shoes on display at the end of the tour. They were of smaller stature as well.” Eleanor glanced over her shoulder at Ryan. “You would’ve towered over them.”
“So, I take it there weren’t many men more than six feet tall seven hundred years ago?”
“No. Although King Edward was known to be six feet two inches tall. He was looked upon as very intimidating.”
April pointed to the low doorway ahead. “Ryan, you’ll want to watch your head. The openings here aren’t quite as high as they are downstairs.”
“Thanks for the warning. I don’t want to spend my last two days in England in the hospital.”
“Have you been on holiday?” Eleanor asked as they made their way to the second floor.
“No—I’ve been here on business.”
“That’s right. April mentioned she was buying a cottage from you.” Her face showed recognition. “Oh … you must be Susannah’s son.”
Ryan’s gaze had been out the window at the countryside, but at her words he swung around to face her. “You knew my mother?”
“Yes, she was a frequent visitor to the castle. Some of her ancestors lived here at one time. Something about her twenty-third great grandmother having married the owner of the castle.”
“The gift shop has a book on the history of the castle and its owners,” April told Ryan.
“Yes, that’s right.” Eleanor’s interest piqued. “We could take a look and see who that ancestor was.”
“I’m not that much into genealogy. It was my mother’s forte.”
Eleanor nodded and moved toward the first bedchamber. “This is the bower, used by the lady of the castle. Her private apartment. The furnishings are replicas from the era when the castle was in its heyday—roughly the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries.”
A huge posted bed with stitched fabric hangings from its four corners was adorned with faux furs and pillows. Several ornate chests were scattered around the room. Eleanor pointed out they were used to store garments. A few benches and stools were strategically placed in groups to encourage seating for visiting, some of which were placed by the window for doing needlework near the light. Again, as in other rooms, more tapestries hung from the walls.
“The lady of the castle was taken care of by her ladies-in-waiting as well as entertaining other women with music, doing embroidery, or reading.” Eleanor finished her dissertation by taking a deep breath. “You’re welcome to take a few minutes to walk about the room. No sitting please.” She gave a nod. “I need to step out into the corridor and make a quick call. Won’t be a bit.”
“She sure knows her stuff and so do you.” Ryan gave April a grin and walked to look out the window. The thick bottle-green glass lent a hazy view of the country landscape. He felt he’d stepped back in time seven hundred years, peering out to see if a rider would appear over the hill to warn the castle’s occupants of impending danger. He turned to see April standing on the opposite side of the bed, and due to its height, he could only see her from the waist up. Her white peasant blouse gave the appearance she could’ve been dressed in a long flowing gown from that century, ready to attend her lady. The sound of a cell phone’s ring in the hall brought both of them to face the open door.
Eleanor pocketed her phone. “Sorry, chaps. A queue has formed, so we need to move on.” They continued the tour at a bri
sker pace. Eleanor apologized. “Sorry to rush. I was so appreciating a slower-paced tour with time to discuss more of the history. April and I have had many a discussion over tea about this place.”
“And will probably have several more.” April gently shoved Eleanor on the shoulder and stopped as she stared ahead into the garden. “Isn’t that Colin Heard?”
Eleanor’s attitude transitioned as she turned toward the man April pointed out. “Yes, I do believe it is. This is a rare event. I wonder what he’s doing here?”
“Well, he does own the place—or at least his corporation does. He may be taking a personal interest in how it’s being kept.”
Ryan strained his eyes to get a better look, but the man was too far away. He raised an eyebrow and pulled a face. “Why don’t we walk that way and you two can ask him why he’s here? Besides, it seems you may want a closer view.”
Both women turned to him and gave an identical expression of children with a hand stuck in the cookie jar. April started to speak, but he held up a hand. “No need to explain. He’s obviously rich, well-dressed, and a real catch.”
They both glared at him. He’d said too much. “Guess that sounded a bit chauvinistic … sorry. That’s not exactly what I meant—I mean—he must be somewhat of a local celebrity, and most people would want to get a closer look … so let’s go.” He shrugged and led the way.
As they drew closer, Ryan noticed that the description he had assumed about the man was spot on—except that he didn’t appear to be very old to have amassed such a fortune. He appeared to be no more than in his late forties.
The man leaned casually against a low stone wall enclosing a small garden along the side entrance. He spoke with a stout, grey-haired man holding a shovel, who smiled at something he’d said. As they shook hands in farewell, the crunch of gravel brought their attention to the approaching trio.
Colin Heard strode toward them. “Hello, Eleanor. How goes the tour business?” His white, perfect teeth flashed from a broad, sincere grin.
Eleanor beamed in admiration. “Couldn’t be better, Mr. Heard … how are you?”
“Fine. And you, April? I see you’re still our best customer.”
April laughed nervously. “I’m doing well. I’m not sure about being your best customer, but I certainly do love coming here.”
Not waiting for an introduction, Ryan presented his hand and said, “Good afternoon, I’m Ryan Wilkinson. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Heard.”
“A pleasure to meet you. How are you acquainted with these lovely ladies?”
“I’ve been in Neville for about a week on business. April and I are working on a real estate deal, and I met Eleanor today. She’s an excellent guide.”
Eleanor’s face reddened.
“Yes, I’ve heard good reports about her. Wish I had ten more like her.”
Ryan smiled mischievously. “You could always hire April.”
Mr. Heard turned toward April. “Oh?”
April’s chin dipped. “No, he’s joking.”
“No, seriously. She knows as much about this castle as Eleanor.”
Eleanor agreed. “He’s right. April’s been here enough and has all the books published about Horden Castle. She’d make a brilliant guide.”
“If you’re interested, April, fill out the proper paperwork at the office, and I’ll put in a good word for you with the boss.” Mr. Heard winked at April, she blushed and thanked him. The man paused and peered curiously at Ryan. His face grew serious. “Did you say your name was Wilkinson? You wouldn’t by chance be related to Susannah Wilkinson?”
“Yes, I’m her son. I’m here to sell the cottage, which April is buying.”
He cleared his throat, “I see.”
Ryan rubbed his forehead. “Did you know my mother?”
“Yes, we worked on a church committee together some years ago regarding housing for needy families in the area.” A fleeting look of pain crossed his face as he averted his eyes. “I was wondering what had happened to her.”
April cleared her throat. “Mrs. Wilkinson passed away.”
Colin’s face paled, and he met Ryan’s gaze. “Mr. Wilkinson, I’m very sorry to hear that. Please accept my condolences. Other than the local church, did your mother favor any charities? I’d like to leave a memorial in her name.”
“The local church would be fine,” Ryan said in a low voice. “Thank you.” Hesitating, Ryan pulled a business card from his pocket and gave it to Mr. Heard. “If you don’t mind, give me your card, and should I come up with another charity, I’ll contact you.”
Taking the card from Ryan, he produced a black leather cardholder from his pocket. With a gentle tremor in his fingers, he placed Ryan’s card in the front and pulled one of his out and offered it in return.
“Your mother and I became friends when she lived here. We had a lot in common. She, well, she was a special woman, and I—” He winced and looked away, then at his watch. “I need to get to a meeting. If you’ll excuse me. It was great to see you, ladies—and nice to meet you, Ryan. Have a fine day.” He gave them a thoughtful glance and sprinted away.
Ryan watched him go and ran their exchange through his mind. What exactly had his mother meant to this man?
∞∞∞
April and Ryan walked leisurely along the tree-shaded driveway from Horden Castle. The day had developed into a fine spring-like afternoon. The sound of a motor sporadically drummed out the chirping birds and a distant barking dog. They continued in silence along the cobblestone.
April was unsure if Ryan had noticed Mr. Heard’s reaction to the news of his mother’s death. She’d only met him a few times, but he’d always remembered her name. He was a very thoughtful man and seemed to be a sincere person. His expression revealed how deeply the news of Mrs. Wilkinson’s death had affected him. Was it the loss of a friend or something more? Maybe that’s why Ryan was so quiet, perhaps digesting the encounter.
Ryan ended the silence. “Thanks for the tour, April. It was a great history lesson—especially since I had ancestors who lived here at one time.”
A calico cat streaked across their path with a dog close behind, bringing the conversation and their steps to a halt. They watched the pair run into a small meadow. The cat lowered himself into the grass, hidden from the dog’s sight as it came bounding into the field, head swinging side to side in search of its quarry. Suddenly, the cat jumped straight up and pounced on the dog’s back.
April drew in a breath and held it, fearing the cat would be bitten in half by the huge retriever. She swung toward Ryan in silent appeal for a rescuer.
Ryan watched her and read the look. “It wouldn’t be wise to intervene.” He shrugged. A sharp bark brought their attention back to the spectacle playing out in the grass.
The scene changed—the dog rolled over onto his back. The cat pounced and positioned himself onto the dog’s chest. The dog licked the cat in the face. The cat stood perfectly still to allow the attention and lay on his chest while the dog’s tail wagged rapidly.
Ryan’s laugh started as a chuckle, ballooning into hearty laughter. Relieved she wasn’t to witness any animal violence, April joined in. The animals heard the commotion and ran to meet the strangers, this time the cat followed the dog who rubbed against Ryan’s legs. April bent and petted the cat’s ears as it purred appreciatively. Ryan’s laughter receded as he stroked the dog’s head. “Aren’t you aware that cats are the enemy?”
She looked up at Ryan. “Hey, don’t tell him that. It may give him ideas.”
The incident had altered Ryan’s mood. He was cheerful, and April used the opportunity to pursue what had been going through her mind minutes before the dog-cat chase.
“Your mum never mentioned Mr. Heard?” She focused on the cat until he started to rise. If he’d heard, he didn’t comment. He stood and dusted dog hair from his hands. Why had she asked? It was none of her business.
“Do you want to grab a late lunch … or an early dinner?” he asked
her unexpectedly.
April realized she was hungry. Her breakfast of tea and blueberry scones had long since deserted her. “Certainly.” Realization struck. “Sorry, I forgot, I’m having dinner with Tristan tonight. Let’s have lunch, but I do need to go by the cottage for a moment.”
“Sure, that’d be fine. Would you like to go to Horden Inn or where we had tea the day we met?”
“Let’s go to Talbot’s.” It was Tristan’s day off, so there was no chance of running into him there.
By this time, the dog and cat had lost interest in the human interaction and taken off in the direction of an old thatched cottage down the road, the cat now chasing the dog.
Ryan laughed. “The dog is certainly frightened.” He brought his gaze around and studied a building in the distance and nodded toward it. “What’s that?”
“It’s an old factory that was renovated to house homeless families. It was quite a task I’d say.” She stopped and turned toward the building. “Would you like a closer look?”
Ryan raised a shoulder. “Sure, if you’ve the time before lunch.”
“No trouble.” April cut across the pasture. She urged Ryan to cross the fence stile as she did.
He was hesitant but followed, looking each way before stepping down to join her. “Checking for large farm animals.”
She laughed. “You’re not worried there may be a charging bull around, are you?”
“No, I haven’t noticed anything in this field—other than sheep.” As if he’d conjured up the fluffy creatures, several appeared from a nearby cluster of trees.
“Don’t worry, they’re friendly beasts.”
Nearing the edge of the pasture, they once again traversed the fence and crossed the road toward the building, which resembled a stylish factory-turned-apartment complex. April told him that no expense had been spared to create a welcoming and lovely home for those in need.
An elderly couple exited the double doors and smiled at April and Ryan as they headed for the parking lot on the left. From their other side, a small boy smiled up at his mother as they walked hand-in-hand into the building. April glanced at Ryan and saw a haunted expression pass over his features as he watched the mother and son. His attention shifted to a bronze plaque secured near the entrance, and he paled.
Permelia Cottage Page 13