What a wonderful way to celebrate the Vanderbilts’ love of stories and reading.
The famous cantilevered staircase twisted up and out of sight around the colossal black steel chandelier suspended from the roof three floors above. Morning light streamed in through myriad windows lining one side of the staircase, haloing the limestone steps with an almost angelic light. Clara stifled a giggle, embracing the magic that was Biltmore, and cast a glance toward the Winter Garden to her right. Various flowering plants encircled a glass-roofed court with a marble fountain in the center crowned by a statue of a boy with two geese. A pianist, tucked in the Winter Garden near a display of poinsettias, regaled the room with classical versions of Christmas carols, the sound reverberating off the high ceilings and adding sweeter Christmas ambience to the festive estate house.
Clara sighed like a little girl in a daydream. Magical.
“Clara?”
Clara turned to find a middle-aged woman approaching from the stairs, her reed-like silhouette elongated all the more by her black trousers. The pale blue of her blouse brought out the almost translucent hue of her eyes—a color even lighter than Clara’s—and her shocking head of auburn hair made the vision even more stunning.
“Mrs. Carter?”
The woman’s smile spread and she offered her hand. “Yes. I’m pleased to meet you.” She gestured for Clara to follow as they stepped toward the direction of the Banquet Hall. “As one of the archivists at Biltmore, I treasure any story or artifact associated with the house or family.” She slipped through the archway into the Banquet Hall, maneuvering around guests as she did so.
The largest room in the house, the Banquet Hall featured a wall of medieval tapestries, a massive triple fireplace at one end, and a table to seat over sixty people when fully extended. Clara nearly stumbled from looking up at the vaulted ceiling, seventy feet above her. This room never failed to impress, especially with a fifty-foot Christmas tree on display. Mrs. Carter unhooked one of the rope barriers blocking passage of visitors and ushered Clara to follow.
Clara’s breath caught. Mrs. Carter was taking her into places at Biltmore she’d never seen.
“I must say that your great-grandmother and this Oliver fellow have given me a bit of work to do.” She continued talking as they slipped up a narrow servants’ stair. “But I believe you’ll be very pleased with my discoveries so far.”
Discoveries? Clara pulled her attention away from an unfamiliar passageway to her right and caught up with Mrs. Carter as she stopped before a simple wooden door.
“My office is next to the archives.” She nodded toward a door on the opposite wall. “I think we’ll be more comfortable in here away from all the machines that keep the archive room at optimal conditions for protecting our documents.”
Clara entered a small room that looked like any other office except for the oak paneled walls on one side and vintage blue wallpaper on the other. Mrs. Carter sat behind a desk and offered Clara a chair across from her.
“Did you bring the postcard?”
Clara opened her purse, removed the postcard she’d placed in a plastic bag, and handed it to the historian. Mrs. Carter tugged her glasses from around her neck and placed them on the edge of her nose, taking her time examining the card. “It’s in good condition for its age. As I told your mother, these particular postcards were used during a limited time, 1914 to 1915, and we only have one other copy in our archives.” She looked up from her perusal. “As you will note, the line drawing of the Biltmore is unique for this particular card.”
Clara had no comparison, so she merely nodded.
Mrs. Carter smiled and placed the card on the table before relaxing back in her chair. “Getting information like this is always like a treasure hunt for those of us who are into archives, and thankfully, Mrs. Vanderbilt kept a great many correspondence and detailed documentation throughout her life.”
“Does that mean you were able to find something about my great-grandmother?”
The woman’s Cheshire cat smile slipped into perfect bloom. “Not a full story, but enough to get you started, I think.”
Started? Clara sat up a little straighter. A real mystery? A true adventure? Even if it all started in order to save the bookshop, the story triggered a dormant place in Clara’s heart. The little girl who believed in fighting dragons with Robbie or embarking on untold adventures with a handful of imaginary friends slipped from behind a closed place in Clara’s heart and tiptoed back into the light.
Clara braced her elbows on the desk and stared back at Mrs. Carter, pulling a bit of her childhood spunk to the surface. “I’m listening.”
“From what I’ve been able to uncover, it seems that your love for books is hereditary.” She chuckled and tapped at a few pieces of aged paper lying on the desk. “Mrs. Vanderbilt’s meticulous records show that after her mother’s death, Sadie took over her mother’s position as primary servant in charge of the books of the house, which includes the library, of course.”
So, the Library Fairy must have been either Sadie or Sadie’s mother.
“What exactly would a library fair…servant do?”
“Well, it was her job to not only keep the library tidy, but to provide options for the Vanderbilts’ guests by leaving books out for them they may have requested.” Mrs. Carter lifted a note from the desk and began to read. “Our stay at Biltmore was remarkable. Besides the beautiful surroundings, as well as the excellent company and food, we also found your library almost magical. Books we’d discuss, or speak of, would appear on display soon afterwards. Whoever, or whatever, you have taking up residence in the library, is excellent at his occupation.”
Clara’s smile bit into her cheeks as she leaned forward to see the note. “Was that about Granny Sadie?”
“It was
