Chapter 10: Whispers of Treachery
I pressed my back against the cold plaster wall of the narrow service passage, holding my breath as the murmur of voices drifted through the heavy velvet curtain.
"Late for a stroll, aren't you, Cousin?" Mr. Vance’s voice sneered from inside the study. The sound of heavy footsteps on the Persian rug indicated he had pushed his way past the threshold without waiting for an invitation.
"This is my private study, Vance. You have no business barging in here at midnight," Mr. Hargaford replied, his tone dripping with controlled ice.
"Just checking on the family assets, Julian," Vance laughed, a dry, grating sound. "And on your new domestic staff. People are talking downstairs, you know. Whispers about a little gold ring found by a toddler. It looks rather sloppy for a man of your stature to be mingling with common hired help over lost trinkets."
"My affairs are none of your concern," Mr. Hargaford fired back, the floorboards creaking as he stepped closer to his cousin. "And if I hear that you've been interrogating the staff again, your stay in this house will end tonight, permanent or not."
A heavy silence followed the threat, thick with unspoken hostility. I stood in the dark passage, my fingers clenched into tight fists. Vance wasn't just an annoying relative; he was an active predator probing for weaknesses in the estate's defenses, weaponizing class distinctions and family gossip to undermine Mr. Hargaford's control.
"We'll see who holds the cards when the board meets on Monday," Vance muttered darkly, his footsteps retreating toward the main door. "Keep your little maids close, Julian. But remember—secrets have a way of coming to light, whether you want them to or not."
The heavy study door slammed shut, rattling the glass in the frames.
A moment later, the velvet curtain parted, and the warm strip of light from the study illuminated the dark corridor. Mr. Hargaford stood there, his face tight with suppressed fury, holding out the old photograph toward me in his open palm.
May you like
"He knows more than he's saying," Mr. Hargaford said quietly, his voice taut with resolve. "Vance is looking for the rest of the archive box. Which means we have less time than I thought."
I took the photograph back, my fingers brushing his warm skin. The fear that had gripped me moments before was gone, replaced by a grim, shared determination to unearth the truth once and for all.
