Chapter 9
Before Eleanor’s fingers could bunch the fabric of the curtain to pull it back, a sharp, metallic crash echoed from the far end of the third-floor gallery outside the study doors. It sounded like a heavy iron poker falling against the stone floor, followed by the clatter of scattered porcelain.
Eleanor spun around, lowering the revolver slightly, her attention diverted by the sudden disturbance.
“Who’s there?” she barked, abandoning the window to stride toward the open double doors, the revolver raised and ready.
Julian didn't hesitate. Seizing the momentary distraction, he slipped out from behind the velvet drapes, clutched the ledger and the parchment tightly to his chest, and darted silently toward the open doors on the opposite side of the study. He slipped out into the dimly lit hallway just as Eleanor turned back toward the window, realizing the curtain had moved.
“Coward!” she screamed into the empty room, firing a single shot into the ceiling plaster as rage completely overwhelmed her discipline. The deafening crack of the gunshot reverberated through the east wing, rattling the antique chandeliers.
Julian sprinted down the hallway, taking the grand staircase three steps at a time. His bright blue suit jacket billowed behind him like a cape as he fled toward the service quarters. He didn't know what had caused the distraction upstairs—whether it was a draft, a stray cat, or something else entirely—but he knew he had bought himself precious little time before Eleanor discovered the truth and locked down the entire estate.
He reached the heavy oak door of the basement alcove, fumbling with the keys in the dark. He rapped three quick, sharp times against the wood.
The door swung open instantly. Clara stood in the dim candlelight, her eyes wide with terror from the distant sound of the gunshot. She grabbed the hem of his jacket and yanked him inside, slamming the wooden door shut and throwing the heavy iron bolt into place.
“Did she see you?” Clara whispered frantically, her small hands trembling as she touched his arm.
“No,” Julian panted, leaning against the cold stone wall to catch his breath. He held up the black leather ledger in the dim light. “I found it, Clara. Everything is in here. The proof of who we are, and proof of what she did.”
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Clara stared at the worn leather book, sensing the magnitude of the object without needing to read the words. “Can we leave now? Can we go away from this dark place?”
“We leave tonight,” Julian said, his voice firm and resolute. “As soon as the estate settles into dawn, we take the carriage house vehicle and drive straight to the capital. We take this book directly to the High Court of Justice. Eleanor’s reign of terror ends today.”
