Chapter 10: The Ash and the Altar
The revelation hung in the freezing air of the corridor, dense and suffocating. Evelyn turned away from the chained nursery door, her shoulders slumped, the weight of twenty years dragging her down. She gestured for Clara to follow her down the hallway, her steps slow and hesitant.
"Come down to the library," Evelyn said quietly, not looking back. "There are things in the safe that I think you have a right to see now. The letters your mother kept were only half the story."
Clara followed closely behind, the wool blanket still wrapped tightly around her shoulders. They descended the grand staircase, the shadows shifting around them as they moved from the desolate second floor into the cavernous expanse of the main floor.
The library smelled of decaying leather and dried tobacco. Shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, filled with thousands of leather-bound volumes that had not been touched in decades. Evelyn walked straight to a massive oak desk resting beneath a stained-glass window depicting the Blackwood family crest. She reached beneath the desktop, her fingers finding a hidden latch, and pulled open a small floor-level safe built into the base of the shelving unit.
From the dark interior of the safe, Evelyn withdrew a thick leather binder bound in cracked black calfskin. She carried it over to a small reading table illuminated by a single green-shaded desk lamp she clicked on with a sharp snap.
"Sit," Evelyn instructed, setting the binder down on the wooden surface.
Clara pulled up a heavy chair and sat down, watching as Evelyn carefully untied the faded ribbon holding the binder shut. Inside were dozens of documents, financial ledgers, and newspaper clippings yellowed with age.
"This is the ledger of the estate," Evelyn explained, her trembling finger pointing to a page dated twenty years ago. "Look at the entries for the months leading up to the fire. You will see money being funneled out of the family accounts, not to charities or investments, but to a private estate across the county."
Clara leaned closer, scanning the neat handwritten columns of figures. "Where did the money go?"
"To buy your grandmother's silence," Evelyn said bitterly. "And later, to pay off the men who helped Jonathan stage the break-in. They thought they were burning the evidence of the family's shame. They didn't know Elena was still inside the nursery when the flames were set."
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Clara’s breath hitched. She looked up from the ledger, her pale eyes wide with shock. "Mother was inside when it was set on fire? You said she walked out."
"I lied to protect Jonathan," Evelyn confessed, a tear finally spilling over her lash and dropping onto the ledger page. "I told the police she had run away into the night because I couldn't bear the shame of a murder investigation tearing the family name apart publicly. I traded my niece's life for a clean reputation."
