Chapter 2 - The Letter Beneath the Floorboards
Nathan stared at the key in Celia's hand. The green string hung limply between her delicate fingers, identical to the frayed piece he held in his own palm.
"Where did you get that?" Nathan asked, his voice barely audible over the distant hum of the estate’s generator.
Celia took a slow, hesitant step toward him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "He gave it to me, Nathan. Edmund gave it to me yesterday by the greenhouse."
"Liars!" Edmund’s voice snapped through the silent hall, losing every shred of its polished, aristocratic composure. "Nathan, she is setting a trap! I have served this family for thirty-one years! I managed your father's accounts, I protected your inheritance, and now this... this outsider, this gold-digger you picked up in London, is trying to frame me to cover her own tracks!"
"Shut up, Edmund," Nathan commanded, his dark eyes never leaving Celia’s face. "Celia... walk to me."
Celia walked slowly across the crimson carpet until she was standing directly in front of Nathan. She held up the brass key, her hand shaking so violently the green string swung back and forth like a pendulum.
"Why didn't you tell me at dinner?" Nathan asked softly. "When Poppy pointed at Edmund... why did you say she was confused?"
"Because I was terrified!" Celia sobbed, a single tear breaking free and trailing down her cheek. "I didn't know what the key opened, Nathan! Yesterday evening, I was walking by the glasshouses near the south wall. Edmund approached me out of the shadows. He looked pale, nervous... nothing like himself. He pressed this key into my hand and told me that if I loved you, if I wanted to protect your future, I had to keep it secret. He said if your mother saw it, she would destroy you!"
"That is a complete fabrication!" Edmund hissed, stepping closer. "She is lying to save herself!"
"Why would she lie about a key she actually possesses, Edmund?" Nathan asked, turning a deadly glare toward the old solicitor. "How would she even know about the brass lock on the Blue Room if she hadn't been told?"
Nathan took the key from Celia's trembling fingers. He stepped toward the heavy teal double doors of the Blue Room.
He inserted the brass key into the antique lock. It fit perfectly.
With a soft, heavy click, the tumbler turned.
Nathan pushed the doors open.
A wave of stale, frozen air rushed out from the darkness inside, smelling of old leather, dried lavender, and paper that hadn't seen daylight in a decade. The Blue Room was vast, lined with towering floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, velvet-draped windows overlooking the misty grounds, and a massive mahogany desk sitting in the center like a sleeping beast.
Nathan stepped inside and reached for the light switch. A soft, amber glow illuminated the room.
Nothing appeared disturbed. The velvet armchairs were covered in thin white dust sheets. The desk was clear save for a brass desk lamp and a crystal inkwell.
"See?" Edmund said, standing in the doorway, his chest heaving under his suit jacket. "Nothing. A wild goose chase triggered by a six-year-old child."
Nathan didn't listen. He walked slowly around the mahogany desk, his eyes scanning every inch of the room. He remembered his father working in this room late at night, the heavy scent of pipe tobacco lingering in the air. His father had been a secretive man, a man who kept ledger books locked inside iron safes.
As Nathan moved past the velvet curtains near the north window, his shoe caught on an imperfection in the dark oak floorboards.
He stopped.
He looked down. Beneath the edge of the oriental rug, one of the wide oak planks was sitting slightly higher than the others. It was clean—devoid of the light dust covering the rest of the floor.
Nathan dropped to one knee. He flipped back the heavy corner of the rug.
The oak plank had been cut cleanly away from the joists. Nathan slid his fingers into the narrow gap and lifted the board away.
Inside the hollow space beneath the floorboards lay a thick, faded yellow envelope tied with black ribbon.
And lying directly beside the envelope was a modern, encrypted USB drive—sleek, silver, and utterly out of place in a room frozen in the past.
Nathan reached down and picked up both items.
"Nathan..." Celia whispered from the doorway, holding her breath. "What is that?"
Before Nathan could open the envelope, a sharp, metallic sound echoed from the corridor outside.
May you like
Edmund Vale had reached inside his dark velvet jacket.
When his hand came out, he was holding a small, sleek blue-steel pistol.
