Chapter 10
The first pale streaks of gray light filtered through the high, barred windows of the basement alcove, cutting through the damp air like thin blades of steel. Julian had spent the remaining hours of the night organizing the pages of the ledger, marking the vital entries with scraps of paper torn from old envelopes. The codicil to their father’s will rested safely inside his inner jacket pocket, protected from the moisture of the stone walls.
Clara had packed her few meager possessions into a small cloth bundle—the carved wooden bird, a clean ribbon, and the handful of scattered pearls she had managed to rescue from the grand hall the night before, each one gleaming softly in the palm of her hand.
“Are you ready?” Julian asked, kneeling down to look his sister in the eyes. Her dirty dress was still stained, but her face held a new, quiet dignity. The cowering, terrified scullery drudge was gone; standing before him was a true daughter of the Vane house.
“I’m ready,” Clara said, taking his hand with a firm, steady grip.
They unlocked the heavy wooden door and stepped out into the silent service corridor. The estate was dead quiet, wrapped in the cold, misty embrace of early morning before the kitchen staff began their morning fires. They moved quickly through the scullery, slipping out through a heavy iron side door that led directly into the overgrown estate gardens.
The crisp morning air hit their faces, sharp and smelling of wet grass and pine. They made their way toward the old carriage house tucked behind the stables, where Julian knew a modest touring vehicle was kept fueled and maintained for estate errands.
As they rounded the corner of the stables, the heavy iron gates of the main courtyard came into view.
Standing before the vintage automobile was Countess Eleanor. She had changed into a dark traveling cloak, but her face was pale, drawn, and twisted with exhaustion and furious desperation. In her hand, she still held the heavy silver revolver, pointed directly at the garage doors blocking their path.
“Going somewhere so early, children?” Eleanor’s voice cut through the morning mist, cold and devoid of any human warmth.
May you like
Julian immediately stepped in front of Clara, spreading his arms wide to shield her from the line of fire. His heart hammered, but his voice remained steady.
“It’s over, Eleanor,” Julian called out, holding up the black ledger so she could see it clearly in the morning light. “The court has your signature, the deeds, and the testimonies. You have nowhere left to run.”
