Chapter 4 - The Letter Celandine’s Mother Never Sent

Celandine knew her mother had worked as a housekeeper.

She did not know for whom.

Mariette Vale had died six months before Celandine entered Hawthorne House. In her final weeks, fever had taken most of her strength and much of her memory. She spoke names Celandine did not recognize.

One of them had been Evelina.

Another had been Benedict.

Celandine had assumed they belonged to people from her mother’s childhood.

Now Edwin Rooke handed her the envelope Evelina had left behind.

Inside was a single page.

Celandine,

If you are reading this, your mother kept her promise and you found your way to Hawthorne House. Do not trust the official account of my death. Your mother saw something she was never meant to see. I hid the first key in my wedding gown because no one but Percival would understand why I refused to let the dress be destroyed.

Find the red ledger before Benedict does.

The last line was underlined twice.

Percival read it over Celandine’s shoulder.

“Where is the ledger?”

Edwin answered.

“The old orangery.”

Isabetta’s head snapped toward him.

That movement was small.

But Percival saw it.

So did Celandine.

“You know something about the orangery,” Percival said.

Isabetta’s mouth tightened.

“I know there is an abandoned greenhouse on your property. Everyone does.”

“No,” Edwin said. “Not everyone knows about the brick compartment beneath the western fountain.”

Silence.

Percival turned to him.

“How do you?”

“Your wife asked me to build it.”

They left the reception without telling the guests.

The orangery stood beyond the formal gardens, its glass roof silver beneath the moon. Half the panes were cracked. Dead vines clung to the iron supports.

Edwin led them to a dry stone fountain.

Beneath a carved lion’s mouth, one brick sat slightly deeper than the others.

Percival removed it.

Behind it was an empty cavity.

No ledger.

Only dust.

Celandine touched the stone.

“There are fresh scratches.”

Someone had opened it recently.

Percival looked at Isabetta.

She did not defend herself.

That frightened him more than another denial would have.

“Where is it?” he asked.

Isabetta stared at the empty compartment.

“I don’t have it.”

“Then who does?”

She remained silent.

Percival stepped closer.

“You brought Margot here. You had access to the dress. You knew enough to panic when the pearl flower came loose. If you are protecting Benedict Shaw, this is the last moment you will have to stop.”

Isabetta’s composure finally cracked.

“I am not protecting Benedict.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“Trying to stay alive.”

Before Percival could answer, glass shattered above them.

Celandine screamed.

A heavy iron object struck the fountain where Percival had been standing less than a second earlier.

Someone was on the roof.

Percival ran outside.

A dark figure dropped from the opposite side of the orangery and disappeared through the trees.

By the time Percival reached the path, the person was gone.

But something lay in the mud.

A black leather glove.

Inside the cuff were the embroidered initials B.S.

Benedict Shaw.

When they returned to the mansion, the solicitor was no longer among the guests.

Neither was Margot Bell.

Percival found her card on the upstairs landing.

A new message had been written across the back.

If you want the actress alive, bring Evelina’s letter to the east bridge at midnight.

Come alone.

Celandine looked at the grandfather clock.

May you like

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Eleven thirty-eight.

The east bridge was the same bridge where Evelina Hawthorne had died.