Chapter 10
The digital clock on Dominic’s desk clicked silently toward midnight as the storm outside began to lose its ferocious edge, settling into a steady, rhythmic drizzle. Dominic stood up, smoothing the front of his dark suit jacket, and looked down at Clara with a resolute expression. "We need to speak with Sarah tonight, before Eleanor finds a way to reach her from the drawing room," Dominic stated firmly. Clara pushed herself up from the armchair, wrapping the wool blanket tighter around her shoulders as a makeshift cloak against the drafty hallways. "I'll come with you, sir. Miss Sarah trusts me, even if she's currently angry with the rest of the household," Clara offered, her voice steady and determined. Dominic nodded approvingly, realizing that the young maid's presence might be the key to disarming his sister's defensive hostility. Together, they left the warm sanctuary of the study and stepped back out into the long, dimly lit corridors of Marshall Manor. The antique wall sconces cast long, dancing shadows across the polished wooden floors as they navigated the labyrinthine west wing toward Sarah’s private apartments. Every step felt heavy with the looming confrontation that awaited them at the end of the hall. When they reached the double doors of Sarah’s suite, Dominic paused, raising his hand to knock firmly against the dark wood. After a tense moment of silence, the sound of slow, shuffling footsteps echoed from within, followed by the metallic click of a deadbolt turning. The door swung open to reveal Sarah Marshall, a 30-year-old woman with soft blonde hair falling in disarray around a face marked by chronic illness and deep emotional exhaustion. She wore a heavy silk dressing gown over her nightclothes, leaning heavily against the doorframe for support as she blinked against the hallway light. "Dominic? What on earth are you doing here at this hour?" Sarah asked, her voice raspy with suspicion and fatigue. Her eyes flicked past her brother and landed on Clara, noting the damp uniform and the makeshift wool blanket with immediate concern. "And why is Clara dressed like that? What is going on in this house?" Sarah demanded, her protective instincts instantly flaring up as she looked between the two midnight visitors.
