by Emily Bow
“What you are doing will stick with Billy forever. Don’t leave.”
Regina shook her head and waved me off. There was no anger or malice, but she wasn’t letting me sway her either. “You don’t get it.” She left.
I went back inside the portrait gallery, my lips pressed tightly together. I didn’t look at Billy.
Thorn ran his hand over his hair. “We should discuss this further.”
Billy crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not lying about my mum.” He strode to the doorway and paused, frowning. “Your story’s rubbish.” He moved around me and left.
Thorn shook his head. “He has no idea. I’ll have to get security for him.” His blue eyes were shadowed as if he hadn’t slept, but he hid his emotions. He pointed upward. “My mother won’t leave her room.” His jaw hardened. He focused on me. “I have a team arriving this morning to pack the artifacts away. You, Lily and the professor may leave now, and I’ll have your things sent.” He clenched his fists.
My heart jolted as he parceled me in with the rest of his problems. Nope. I didn’t walk out on friends, I’d be here through the press conference, but I wouldn’t explain that to him right now. He’d learn soon enough. “I’ll talk to them.”
Chapter 34
Professor McCrary and Lily were in the workroom when I went back. The professor looked at me. “Bad news Imogen. Unfortunately, as we suspected, our project’s coming to a close sooner than we’d hoped.”
I murmured something.
“These things happen. What matters, is they will allow me to continue my work on the letters using the scanned versions. But I’ll do that from the States.” Professor McCrary put her hand to her head. “Lily, help me double-check the scans, will you? I understand the new team will be here any minute, and we have a lot to do before they take over. Imogen, you can sift through things in here, ensure we’re not missing any letters?”
“Got it.”
She wasn’t wrong. A group of twenty packers arrived within the next hour, led by an expert. How Thorn had gotten them identified and here that quickly I had no idea. The only thing that made sense was that he’d identified them before and had them on retainer ready to go once he’d called.
The expert had round glasses, rounded vowels, and wore a tweed suit. I showed him the work we’d done to date. I walked him past the locked cupboards of sorted items and concluded the tour back at the workroom where I pulled up the database and our initial analysis.
He sniffed as if he’d failed to take his dandelion allergy medicine. I arched my eyebrows.
“My team will be taking over.” The expert looked around the workroom, which had shrunk now that six of his guys were in here with us. “Move these boxes to the ballroom.” He pointed at my desk. “And the table.”
I lifted the laptop and unplugged the cord. “Okay. I can keep chugging away if you like, and get what I can done, while you do your thing.”
He sniffed again. “That won’t be necessary. My full team arrives Monday.”
He had more guys? What did a full team consist of? “Do you want me to download a copy of the database? Or have Lily set you up with a password?” The laptop belonged with the castle after all.
“That won’t be necessary.” The expert closed his eyes briefly behind his glasses. “We have our own software. If you want to be useful, you can carry boxes from here to the ballroom.”
So, that’s what I did, and that many workers emptied the room shockingly fast.
I returned to the workroom with the expert following me as if I couldn’t be counted on to conclude that they’d gotten every box.
The expert looked around and nodded.
I had thought I’d see the workroom empty when I finished in December. I was seeing it now. The only objects left in the room were the laptop that I’d stowed on top of the hutch and the hutch itself. “I’ve always thought the hutch was somehow special.”
The expert moved to the tall piece of furniture and leaned down to peer at the red-brown wood. “It’s no Chippendale.” He opened a door and shrugged one shoulder. “Special? Not really. No. Simply a Victorian hutch. We’ll get to furniture once we’ve established offsite storage.”
So, that was it. My job was done.
They planned to photograph, wrap, and box the castle’s contents and ship them off.
Lily popped in the door. “Mom’s taking us to The Bell and Swan for lunch.”
I nodded and went with her.
***
We sat at a small table for three and talked about what happened. Thorn had given the professor a partial outline of the family press issue. Mostly, to warn the professor to keep us away around five o’clock when the reporters descended. I kept quiet so I wouldn’t misspeak. I poured malt vinegar on my French fries and ate one.
The professor sighed and stuck her knife and fork into her fried cod. “Well, it’s not as I’d have wished, but at least I get to take a copy of the letters. They’ve offered to let you two stay to help wrap. But I fear that would be the extent of your duties. I tried to go over your value with the new troupe, but…” The professor shrugged and ate a fry. “They have their own team.”
That was putting it nicely.
Professor McCrary took a sip of her soda. “No word from Hopewell Manor about a new job. And I am still busy with the Elizabethan letters so, I’m not inclined to reach out to them yet.”
Lily winced. “Good.”
I tightened my hand on my fork and looked at Lily. “Are you staying to help pack?” I wanted her to say yes, to give me a reason to linger.
Lily dropped her hand to her laptop case, which rested against her calf. “Solid no for me.”
My mind stilled. I had been looking for an excuse to stay, but I had none. The reality was, Thorn had not asked me to stay. In fact, he’d told me to go. His words repeated in my head, causing an ache to spiral through me. Thorn didn’t want me here. Putting off grad school to perform unpaid manual labor for my replacement wasn’t in my plan.
As we walked out, I saw the expert and a handful of his team take seats at the long table. Not surprising, as this was the only place to eat in the nearest town.
I looked at the muddy landscape mounted behind the bar. My palms tingled, and I itched for another close look. There was something about the image. I went over to the expert. “Sorry to interrupt, but as you’re here.” I pointed to the painting. “What do you think of that?”
Chapter 35
The expert glanced and smiled at me as if I were really young. “New graduates. When you study psychology, you imagine you have every mental illness. When you study artifacts, you imagine there are treasures everywhere. Sometimes an unfortunate pub painting is simply an unfortunate pub painting.”
Two of his tablemates snickered.
His words stung. He hadn’t even meant them that unkindly and they stung. I’d been certain there was something there. I mumbled something and headed to the door with flushed cheeks.
***
Thorn stood inside the box-free workroom looking out the window. The only thing that lay in that direction that I knew of was Hopewell Manor. His actions ticked me off. I put my purse on the hutch and crossed over to him. “If you want Regina to stay, you need to make it clear to her. She needs to know she’s needed.”
“Regina?”
I leaned against the windowpane. “Is there another ‘her?’” My words were testy.
“I don’t want her to stay.”
My insides eased a little, but I put aside my dislike of Regina and pushed. “In circumstances like these, it’s all a friend can do. Be there. You should give her that chance. Or you’ll end up with a divide between you the size of that pasture.” I waved my hand toward the lush landscape.
“I don’t want Regina here.”
I shouldn’t love that. Could he see how wrong they were for each other? The urge to push him rose through me. “What’s between you two?” Not my freaking business. I shook my head. “Never mind. I
don’t want the details of your lingering dynastic plans.” He’d once thought he’d end up with her, and she’d left when things got messy. Didn’t he see she was wrong for him? Irritation crawled under my skin. “I’m saying, if you want a future with her, you should call her back and have her stay. For you.”
Thorn’s mouth quirked. “The thing is, I don’t want her to stay. I can handle it.” He cleared his throat. “I can handle it all.” He pressed his lips together and looked at me. “But I’m angry my father’s not here. Stupid, huh?” He shook his head. “My lawyer has me drafting a will. Can you imagine?”
I shook my head too. I had to stop obsessing over the lack of ‘us’ when he had bigger worries.
“There’s all that, on top of this mess. I’m going to provide a statement in an hour and a half. The lawyer thought it would come off better from me in person rather than in a press release from him. Less hidey.” He waved at the window. “However many vultures can get down here by five will get the show.”
I needed to be a supportive friend, not only to show him what one looked like, but to be there for him. I took his hand and pressed it between mine. His fingers were cold, but strong. “Stick to as much truth as you can. Want to practice on me?” I gave him a scowl. “Tell us, Duke Thorn, what is going on here?”
He half-chuckled, and his shoulders eased. “As a student of history, you should learn how to address me.” He swallowed and looked over my head as if he were seeing the press. He pulled free from my grip and put his hands behind his back. “Thank you for coming here today. I’ve been asked to give a statement about my family. I will keep my comments brief. Your speculation is not wrong. We lost a family friend in the wreck.” He switched his gaze to me. “If they ask about Billy, I’ll say, ‘Of course, we knew about Billy Wilson. Families come in all shapes. We get together when I’m down in this county.’”
“That’s good. You sound good.” Doing this now felt like a mistake to me. I hoped for everyone’s sake they didn’t ask about Billy. “I wish there was a way to hold off on that until you do a DNA test.”
“I have to get ahead of this story. I’ll have my say, and the news will blow over.” He blinked and his voice flattened. “Barbara was meeting up with my father. My father used this place as a retreat his whole life. We never came with him. This castle was his personal retreat. Billy looks like one of us. It’s naïve to hope for any other outcome. I’m sorry for Billy, more for his father. I’ll try and keep them out of the news. If I can.” He stepped back and moved to the door. “I’m going to prepare.”
I nodded. “Okay, I’ll see you down there.”
He paused assessing my face, and simply nodded.
I turned back to the window.
His footsteps sounded on the floor and then I felt his hand on my arm.
I turned to him. Thorn cupped my face and his lips were on mine, warm and firm. My mind recognized his kiss as a thank you and a goodbye. My body didn’t. My heart jolted in my chest and my lips tingled. My eyes closed, and I reached for him, for what could be.
He slipped away.
I stayed in the workroom, not for any work reason, but to stare around the space cleared of boxes, the finality of us ending. This room symbolized that and I needed to get my own head to come around to the same message.
The kitchen supervisor Sarah came in carrying a meal tray. She looked around for a place to put her offering. “I have your tea, miss.”
This had never happened.
I hurried over and took the tray from her. There were round sugar cookies, oblong shortbread biscuits, and a cup of tea. Honey and a small pot of milk sat beside a silver teaspoon. “Thank you.” Great, I finally won the kitchen staff over, and I was leaving. Life was so like that.
“Happy to do it for you, Ms. Imogen.”
“Please call me Imogen. How’s your arm?”
“Very well. Ms. Imogen.” Sarah flushed and moved to the door. “Let us know if you require anything else.”
“Thanks.” I sat on the floor facing the window with my back up against the hutch and stirred honey into the tea. I’d take the tray down before I changed and went to the press conference. I crossed my fingers hoping Thorn’s announcement would go well and dropped my head back against the hutch.
I wish the hutch wasn’t still in here. The piece stood as a symbol of my unfinished job. Victorian, polished English mahogany. I knocked on the side with my knuckles. I don’t know why I’d thought the old thing was remarkable.
My last duty should be to fully clear this room. I pressed my back into the hutch and then I scooted with my heels, shoving the furniture toward the door. It wasn’t the best way to move an expensive antique, but everything in me now wanted this piece gone.
I’d never have been able to get the hutch an inch, if the drawers weren’t empty, and I weren’t so determined. I kept pushing back, like in a crab walk. The furniture’s lion’s head feet scraped on the floor, and I kept going, my muscles straining. I’d reached the point of stubbornness where I didn’t care if a lion head leg snapped off. I channeled all my frustrations into my muscles and heaved.
My foot slipped on a torn piece of cardboard box leftover from the storage, and I stopped. Physics. I placed the scrap under a corner, looked around for more, and got some under each leg. Then I resumed my position and pushed the furniture toward the door.
Almost there.
I dropped my head back and shoved.
Oh.
I froze, in that crouch, staring at what I’d revealed.
Chapter 36
A short arched wooden door was inset into the workroom wall. I stopped pushing the hutch across the room and went over to the door and grabbed its brass handle. Wine cellar? Dungeon? Secret passageway to the pub? The door creaked open and exposed darkness.
I shined my phone’s flashlight app into the tunnel. The air smelled of earth, stone, and emptiness. My beam landed on a light switch. Hah. I found an ancient family secret wired for modern electricity. I laughed at my whimsy.
I flipped the switch, illuminating the tunnel, and stepped forward.
The press conference.
I hesitated and checked my phone. Thorn’s speech would be going on in an hour. I had time. And he needed a good surprise. This path led somewhere.
Would the door swing shut behind me? I stepped back out and tested the door by opening it wider and letting go. The door stayed in place. Going into the passage would be fine. Would the thick stone walls block my cell phone reception? Probably. But I only needed a minute. I went in.
The passageway wasn’t tall, and I had the urge to duck, though the rounded limestone ceiling was a foot above my head, so I didn’t need to. When I reached intersections supported by crossbeams, the stone brushed creepily against the top of my hair and made me bend forward.
I came to another short door. Wooden, gothic-arched, iron handle. Why not go in? Because of the conference. I checked the time. I needed to speed up. I’d look in this one doorway and go back.
The professor would love these old doors, it’d be something really cool to show her before she left. I pulled the door open enough to slip inside. I’d be quick.
The door fell closed behind me, darkening the space and I hit my phone app again lighting the wall.
Another light switch.
I flipped it. Blue-green Persian rug. Calendar on the wall. Wooden desk. Rolling chair. My shoulders sagged. This wasn’t going to be much of a distraction. Guess what, Thorn? I found an office that would be as at home in any modern suburban house as it is here. But hey, the door leading in was ancient.
A paper datebook was open on top. Black. Leather. A slim book. My fingers tingled and I strode forward.
Black ink, sharp masculine handwriting. This is what Thorn was looking for.
09February. Meet Barbara.
That chilled me. I closed my eyes. Sad. My fingers itched to rip the page out of the agenda, but it wasn’t my place to hide the truth from Thorn. Maybe seeing his da
d’s handwriting on his last day would matter to him. No matter the words. I flipped ahead in his calendar. There were more entries though they grew fewer and fewer. Events Robert should have been at but hadn’t been.
My knees weakened at the tragedy of it all. I sank into the office chair.
There was an open envelope tucked behind the page. I automatically checked the sender. From a lab. My heart beat harder. It was likely a routine cholesterol check and none of my business. My hands, with their painted pink nails with the chip on the pinky finger, reached for the slip anyway. So wrong. I pulled the page out and scanned the header. DNA lab.
OMG.
The paper crunched in my hand. This had to be about Billy. The letter was dated 02Feb.
If Robert had been coming here as a retreat his whole life, wouldn’t he know about Billy before now? Maybe he hadn’t. That was better somehow. I checked the postmark on the envelope itself. 07Feb. I swallowed. Was this why he was meeting Barbara with more frequency? Had he just found out about Billy? There was possibly comfort in that for Thorn.
I held the envelope in one hand and the private medical correspondence in the other. None of it was mine to read. I should put the form back in the envelope and place them both with the datebook. Tell Thorn where to find them and let him decide. Give him that much control in a situation that was out of his control. That was the right and respectful and moral thing to do.
I winced and my insides squeezed, and I removed the results from the envelope.
No. It is not mine to read.
I’d wanted some good news. A little distraction for Thorn, not to dig further into his business. I needed to leave.
I dropped the report, wheeled backward, and rose.
Standing there, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t help myself. I went back to the desk. There was no way I couldn’t read the results.
Barbara Wilson. 40% DNA shared. Sibling match predicted.