Chapter 6
The heavy oak doors of the Sterling manor closed behind them with a muffled thud, instantly cutting off the distant murmur of the party guests still mingling on the terrace. The interior of the house was grand, vaulted ceilings arching over polished mahogany floors and walls lined with ancestral oil portraits that seemed to watch their passage with stern, disapproving eyes.
Clara set Lily down gently, keeping the child’s small hand firmly clasped in her own. "Lily, go up to the nursery with Mrs. Higgins. Stay inside, lock the door, and do not open it for anyone except me or Eleanor. Do you understand?"
"Are you staying out here with the bad man?" Lily asked, her lower lip trembling slightly.
"I'm going to make sure we're all safe, sweetheart. Mrs. Higgins has some hot cocoa waiting for you upstairs," Clara said, offering a reassuring smile that masked the fierce storm raging inside her.
Eleanor caught the eye of the elderly housekeeper hovering near the grand staircase and nodded imperceptibly. Mrs. Higgins immediately stepped forward, gently taking Lily’s hand and leading her up the sweeping steps. As the sound of their footsteps faded down the upper hallway, the grand foyer fell into a tense, heavy silence.
Eleanor turned to Clara, her expression grave. "You're planning to hunt him down, aren't you?"
"I'm not going to sit inside a cage waiting for him to make his next move," Clara said, walking over to a mahogany side table where her late husband’s hunting rifle was traditionally kept locked in a glass-front cabinet. She pulled a small brass key from her pocket—a key she had found tucked behind a family portrait years ago.
"Clara, that's madness," Eleanor protested, stepping closer. "If you confront him with a firearm, you're playing right into his hands. Julian isn't just unstable; he’s cunning. He knows every blind spot on this estate better than anyone."
"Then it's a good thing I know them too," Clara replied coldly, unlocking the cabinet glass and reaching inside. Her fingers wrapped around the smooth, polished wooden stock of the rifle. She checked the chamber; it was unloaded, but a box of shells sat neatly beside it in the velvet-lined compartment. She slipped a handful of cartridges into the deep pocket of her beige dress.
Eleanor watched her with a mixture of fear and reluctant admiration. "Thomas would have hated this. He always tried to shield his brother from the consequences of his actions. That's why Julian hated him so much. Thomas was the golden son, and Julian was the shadow."
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"Thomas is gone, Eleanor. And I am the one protecting this family now," Clara said, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. She closed the cabinet door with a firm click. "Tell me where he stays when he comes back. There has to be a place on the grounds he uses. The old boathouse? The carriage house?"
Eleanor hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting toward the grand stained-glass window at the end of the hall. "The old greenhouse," she admitted softly. "The heating system broke down years ago, and we stopped using it. It's overgrown with vines. No one ever goes down there."
