Chapter 6 - What Isabetta Was Paid to Do

Percival looked at the ledger page until the numbers blurred.

Four payments.

All to Isabetta Vane.

The final one dated the morning Evelina died.

“You were involved,” he said.

Isabetta did not deny it.

But the truth was not what Percival expected.

Before she became his fiancée, Isabetta had worked for an elite event and hospitality firm in London. Benedict Shaw hired the company whenever Hawthorne House held private dinners.

That was how Isabetta first entered the mansion.

Benedict paid her separately to observe Evelina.

Not to hurt her.

To report whom she met, what papers she carried, and whether she spoke to Percival about Briarstone.

“I told myself it was corporate surveillance,” Isabetta said. “I told myself rich families did ugly things to each other and I was only being paid to notice.”

Celandine’s expression hardened.

“And when she died?”

“I knew I had helped Benedict find her.”

The last payment was for a telephone call.

Isabetta had informed Benedict that Evelina was leaving the mansion with a red book beneath her coat.

Benedict reached the east bridge before the carriage did.

Isabetta had carried that guilt for eighteen months.

Then, three months ago, Benedict approached her again.

By then Percival had begun seeing Isabetta socially. Benedict encouraged the relationship.

“He wanted me close to you,” she said. “Close enough to know if you ever questioned the accident.”

Percival’s face showed no emotion.

“And you agreed.”

“Yes.”

“Then you accepted my proposal.”

“Yes.”

“Was any part of it real?”

For the first time, Isabetta could not meet his eyes.

“That is the one question I cannot answer without sounding like a liar.”

Percival turned away.

Celandine understood then why Isabetta had behaved so desperately upstairs.

She had not hired Margot merely to frighten Percival.

She wanted to force the locked room open during a crowded reception, with dozens of witnesses nearby. She believed Benedict would never attack her publicly. She planned for Percival to discover the hidden key and letter himself.

But she had not expected Celandine to bring the gown downstairs.

She had not expected the lipstick stain.

And she had not expected Benedict to realize the game had changed.

“You still tried to destroy the dress,” Celandine said.

Isabetta’s voice lowered.

“I panicked. Benedict told me that if anything hidden in that gown surfaced, he would kill Margot first, then you, then me.”

Margot stared at her.

“You never told me I was in danger.”

“No.”

“You treated me like a prop.”

“Yes.”

The answer landed harder than an excuse.

Dr. Harrow suddenly looked toward the road.

Headlights appeared beyond the trees.

A black sedan stopped at the far end of the bridge.

No one stepped out.

Then the rear door opened.

A leather portfolio was pushed onto the road.

The car sped away.

Percival approached carefully.

Inside the portfolio were photocopies of the Briarstone trust accounts.

And a photograph.

Evelina stood outside a small railway station beside Celandine’s mother, Mariette.

On the back, Evelina had written:

Mariette saw him leave the bridge.

If I do not survive, she is the witness Benedict will fear most.

Celandine’s hands shook.

“My mother saw him.”

Edwin looked at her with sorrow.

“She did more than see him.”

From his coat, he removed a tiny brass locker token.

“Before Mariette died, she mailed this to me. I never understood what it opened.”

Stamped into the token were the words:

VICTORIA STATION — LEFT LUGGAGE 214.

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Percival looked at the date beneath the number.

It was the day after Evelina’s death.