Chapter Four
Thankfully, the rest of the night passed without another ghost surfacing. Or another kiss, as Lucian certainly couldn’t trust himself to have remained a gentleman through a second one.
Stepping away from the washstand, he leaned heavily on his cane, his stiff joints compliments of a sleepless night spent in a chair outside Eloise’s room. While he might not be fit to fight for England again, he certainly could take up guard against Hamish.
Leaving the bedroom, he inched into the hall.
A single ray of sunlight filtered in from the stained glass window and soaked the carpet in vibrant blues and purples. The colors descended from the allegorical image of a knight and the brazen woman bedecked in his colors. The window’s design was one of his favorites.
“Oh, my,” Eloise said, stepping up beside him. “What a magnificent piece of art.”
“It’s original to the house.”
“Which dates back to the knights’ founding days, according to the archives. Or more specifically, to when they brought the Order to England, from Scotland. When the then Marquess of Cartborough offered his home as a meeting place for the knights.”
Eloise’s knowledge of the Order astounded him. “You truly are an archivist.”
“It’s a passion.”
That passion could get her killed if Hamish ever thought she could lead him to the stone.
“All Hallows Abbey is renowned for its collection of stained glass windows. The symbolism in these particular panes details the knights’ beginnings, including the three knights whose descendants eventually formed the Order we know today.
” He pointed to the ribbon and the tokens carried within its strip of purple fabric, framing the characters depicted in the glass.
“The raven and the tree it’s perched in represent the House of Winters as well as the Blackwoods, both lines descended from Sir Tavish Blackwood and his lady, Sorcha Winters. ”
“My ancestors.” Eloise beamed.
“Yes.”
“And the magical lance spitting fire and ice? Who does that represent?” She sheepishly reached her fingers to the glass.
A hint of orange blossom lifted from her wrist and drifted on the air.
Lucian took a deep breath before answering, the intoxicating fragrance soothing his senses far better than any physician’s tincture ever could. “The lance represents my ancestors, Sir Caelan Davis and his bewitching wife, Aislan McAvoy.”
“A formidable couple from what I’ve researched.”
“I gathered the same from the few pages that remain of Aislan’s ledgers.
” He nudged his chin toward the right corner of the window.
“And that half-rolled-up map on the far side of the ribbon represents Sir Arran MacAlistair. His confidant was Lady Isabeau Collin, the woman who kept his secrets while he infiltrated Stirling Castle.”
“The Duke of Graves’s ancestors.”
“Correct.”
Eloise marveled at the glass. “The history in this window is as valuable as the words in an archivist’s library.” She narrowed her eyes. “The main knight and his lady are ethereal looking, almost as if they are ghosts themselves. I’ve never seen this style before.”
“Several generations of artists from the same family crafted the panes.”
“How many windows are there?”
“Forty-two,” he said. “Though more than half were removed before I inherited All Hallows and are now stored in the remains of the old abbey. All of them pertain to the history of the knights, with some panes being older than others.”
“I’d spend days studying every one of them if I had a similar collection.”
He’d spend the rest of his life going through the old windows if it kept the spark in Eloise’s eyes. “Did you sleep well?”
“Like a dream.”
He harrumphed.
“What?”
“All Hallow’s isn’t exactly known for being a peaceful place, especially at night.”
A ray of sunlight caught the copper hue in Eloise’s hair as she tilted her head. “I think it’s charming, even if a bit odd.”
“Oh, it’s more than odd. It’s cold in hottest summer, warm in coldest winter, and haunted beyond compare throughout all seasons.”
“Then I say you have good company in your ghosts as they obviously care for their host’s comfort.”
“This, coming from a woman who doesn’t believe in ghosts.”
Eloise regarded him with a soft smile. “I might be changing my mind on the matter.”
If she’d seen that shadow crossing the kitchen floor last night, she wouldn’t need to think on it. “We best check the roads and find your coachman so you can make it to Abigail’s wedding.”
“No need. I’ve decided not to go.”
“But I thought you were excited over my cousin’s nuptials, that you even helped her plan it for months?”
“And how are you privy to that information? Has Abigail been spying on me for you?”
He walked into that accusation all on his own, damn it. “No. I simply heard that you were seen in town with her, that is all.”
“Well, I’ll send along the gift, but I’d rather spend a few days exploring All Hallows and seeing what I can learn about the knights that might benefit the archives.”
She glanced fleetingly again at the window, then turned back. “Besides, there’s a ghostly hand in the stained glass, emerging from the lance signifying your ancestors. I intend to find out why that is.”
“So you want to study the windows.”
“How could I not? Father was a Blackwood, Mother a Winters, and I’m stranded in a Davis-owned house.
Those are all very strong ties to the Knights of All Hallows.
Maybe the secret the knights have been hiding all these centuries isn’t in Enfer’s Gate, but right here.
Plus, I’d like to explore more about the ghosts that supposedly haunt your lovely home. ”
He knew he was going to regret feeding Eloise’s need for delving into the unknown, but he lost all sense when around her.
“There is one tale that might make you a believer. It goes back centuries and involves the Winters and the Davises. Actual proof is scarce, but legend says there was a young man who resided at All Hallows Abbey, who attempted to elope with his betrothed. Her father came upon his carriage and killed him, putting an end to their attempted union. Some versions of the story state the young man had gone mad from war and that is why the father refused to let his daughter to marry him. The daughter died of a broken heart, only months later.”
“The ghosts of the roaming lovers.” The deep sadness crossing Eloise’s eyes, jolted him.
“Yes, those ghosts.”
“Maybe the windows can shed some light on their story. My mother thought there was more to the tale than simply a father not caring for his daughter’s suitor.
She may have even been murdered because of it.
I am not leaving until I know more. And I intend to do so, with or without your help or your permission. ”
God save him, but he could not let her endanger herself.
He reached for her arm. “Researching the Knights’ history could be dangerous. Not all members of the Order are chivalric. Cross the wrong one and…”
“And what, I die? I don’t care. I’ve lost everything I’ve ever held dear, already.”
Including himself, bastard that he was. He let out a deep breath, then calmed his voice. “Fine. All Hallows Abbey and its history are yours to explore. But not without me. You do not move one inch without me by your side. Is that clear?”
Eloise stared at him with what appeared to be both longing and fear. And yet she didn’t move an inch, her spine straight and unwavering. “Agreed.”
Hopefully they’d get the answers she sought without either of them ending up as dead as Sir Edmund.