Chapter 2
“Tell me what you saw before the guests arrived.”
Godric's voice was quiet, but the command carried across the grand reception hall like a crack of thunder.
Lisette stood beside the velvet jewelry case, her injured cheek still burning from Octavia's slap. Her hands trembled against her plain black housemaid's uniform.
Across from her, Octavia looked as though someone had pulled the floor out from beneath her expensive heels.
“Godric,” Octavia whispered, forcing a nervous laugh, “surely we don't have to turn our engagement celebration into some ridiculous interrogation.”
Godric didn't even glance at her.
“Lisette,” he repeated. “Look at me.”
The young maid slowly raised her eyes.
“You are not in trouble. Nobody is going to punish you for telling the truth.”
For the first time that evening, something changed in Lisette's expression.
Not relief.
Not yet.
It was the fragile realization that someone might actually believe her.
“I saw Miss Octavia coming out of your mother's room,” she whispered.
Octavia's head snapped toward her.
“That's enough!”
Godric raised one hand.
Octavia stopped.
“Continue, Lisette.”
The maid swallowed hard.
“It was before the reception. I was bringing fresh linens upstairs. Miss Octavia came out of the room holding something wrapped in a white handkerchief.”
Godric's gaze shifted toward the closed velvet case.
“What happened next?”
“She saw me standing there. She looked frightened at first. Then she asked why I was upstairs when everyone was supposed to be preparing downstairs.”
Octavia made a sharp, impatient sound.
“Because you were snooping!”
Lisette flinched.
Godric turned toward Octavia.
“One more interruption, and I will ask you to leave this room.”
A shocked murmur passed among the guests.
Octavia was his fiancée.
In less than an hour, they had been supposed to stand together beneath the crystal chandelier, surrounded by family friends, and announce the final arrangements for their wedding.
Now Godric was threatening to remove her from her own engagement reception.
But Octavia remained silent.
Lisette took another breath.
“She told me to forget what I'd seen. Later, she called me into the small sitting room beside the stairs.”
“What did she want?”
“She said there was something I needed to do for her.”
The maid looked down at her wrist.
“She put the bracelet on me.”
Godric's jaw tightened.
“She told me I would be accused of taking it from your mother's room. I begged her not to do it. I told her I hadn't stolen anything.”
Lisette's voice cracked.
“But she said nobody would believe a servant over her.”
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Godric stared at Octavia.
For the first time since his mother's funeral, he felt something colder than grief.
Suspicion.
And it was directed at the woman he intended to marry.
***
The emerald bracelet had always been his mother's favorite possession.
Not because it was the most expensive piece she owned.
There were diamonds in the family collection worth considerably more.
But the bracelet had belonged to his grandmother, who had given it to Godric's mother on her wedding day.
Its antique gold links were shaped like delicate leaves, each surrounding a deep green emerald.
As a child, Godric remembered watching those emeralds catch the sunlight whenever his mother reached across the breakfast table.
She wore it at birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas dinners, and almost every important family gathering.
On the last afternoon of her life, when illness had left her too weak to sit upright, she had asked him to bring it to her bedside.
“Promise me something, darling,” she had whispered.
“Anything, Mother.”
“When my time comes, I want to wear this.”
He had tried to smile.
“Don't talk like that.”
But she gently squeezed his hand.
“Promise.”
And he had.
At the funeral, Godric had personally checked that the bracelet rested around her wrist before the coffin was closed.
He could still remember the cold touch of her fingers.
The white satin lining.
The emeralds lying against her pale skin.
He had kissed her forehead and whispered goodbye.
Then he watched the coffin lowered into the family burial vault.
That memory had never left him.
And now, almost two years later, the same bracelet sat inside a velvet case in his reception hall.
Godric looked at it, struggling to reconcile what he remembered with what was lying in front of him.
His mother had been buried wearing it.
He knew that.
So how could Octavia possibly have obtained it?
***
“There's a perfectly reasonable explanation,” Octavia said suddenly.
Everyone turned toward her.
Her voice had regained some of its usual confidence.
“I found the bracelet among your mother's belongings. Obviously, you must have been mistaken about what she wore during the funeral.”
Godric slowly looked up.
“Must I?”
“Grief affects memory, darling.”
The words landed with an ugliness that made several guests visibly uncomfortable.
Octavia continued quickly.
“You were devastated. You barely slept for weeks. Perhaps someone removed the bracelet before the burial and returned it to the house.”
Godric considered her.
“Who?”
“What?”
“Who removed it?”
Octavia blinked.
“How should I know?”
“You're the person who claims to have found it.”
“I found it in the room!”
“Then why did you force it onto Lisette's wrist?”
Octavia's mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Godric stepped closer.
“Even if your explanation were true, why did you accuse an innocent woman of stealing it?”
Octavia looked around the reception hall, searching for a sympathetic face.
“Because I panicked!”
“You panicked?”
“Yes! Everything happened so quickly. I saw the bracelet, and I thought—”
“You thought the best solution was to manufacture a thief?”
Her cheeks flushed.
“You're making me sound like a monster.”
“No,” Godric said. “I'm asking you to explain your actions.”
Octavia's eyes filled with tears.
It was a familiar expression.
Godric had seen it before, whenever an argument turned against her.
Usually, he responded by taking her hands and reassuring her.
Tonight, he did neither.
Octavia seemed to recognize the difference.
“Godric, please. Everyone is staring.”
“They were staring when you humiliated Lisette.”
“She's a servant!”
The words escaped before Octavia could stop them.
A stunned silence followed.
Godric's expression changed.
“My mother employed Lisette's family for years,” he said. “She knew their names. She remembered their birthdays. She respected them.”
Octavia looked away.
“And you,” he continued, “have treated this young woman as though her dignity means nothing.”
Octavia's tears disappeared.
For one brief moment, something hard and furious crossed her face.
Then she lowered her head.
“I'm sorry,” she murmured.
Godric didn't answer.
Because he was beginning to suspect that the bracelet was only part of the problem.
***
The reception ended twenty minutes later.
No speeches were made.
No champagne toast followed.
The musicians quietly packed their instruments while embarrassed guests collected their coats.
Some approached Godric to offer condolences.
Others pretended not to have witnessed the confrontation.
Octavia disappeared upstairs, accompanied by her closest friend, Helena.
Godric remained in the hall until the last guest departed.
Then he asked Lisette to accompany him to the library.
She hesitated at the doorway.
“Sir, am I being dismissed?”
The question struck him harder than he expected.
“No.”
Her shoulders relaxed slightly.
“Please sit down,” he said.
Lisette looked at the upholstered chairs as though she had never been invited to use one.
Godric pulled one forward.
Only then did she sit.
He placed the velvet jewelry case on the desk but did not open it.
“I'm sorry for what happened to you tonight.”
Lisette's eyes lowered.
“It's all right, sir.”
“No,” Godric said. “It isn't.”
She looked up.
He noticed the faint red mark across her cheek.
“I should have realized something was wrong long before this evening.”
Lisette shook her head.
“You couldn't have known.”
“Perhaps not. But I should have paid closer attention.”
He paused.
“Has Octavia treated you this way before?”
Lisette became very still.
Her silence was answer enough.
Godric leaned forward.
“Please tell me.”
The maid clasped her hands together.
“She doesn't like us going near your mother's room.”
“Us?”
“The staff.”
Godric frowned.
“Why?”
“She says the room belongs to the family and that servants have no business touching anything inside.”
“My mother specifically asked that the room be maintained.”
“I know, sir.”
Godric studied her.
“Then who has been cleaning it?”
Lisette hesitated.
“Mostly Miss Octavia.”
That surprised him.
Octavia had never shown much affection for his mother.
Their relationship had been polite but distant.
In fact, during his mother's final illness, Octavia had frequently complained that Godric spent too much time at the bedside.
Now she was personally tending the room?
“Since when?” he asked.
“Several months ago.”
“Why didn't anyone tell me?”
“She said you had requested privacy.”
Godric felt his stomach tighten.
“I gave no such instruction.”
Lisette's eyes widened.
He stood and walked toward the fireplace.
Above it hung a portrait of his mother in a blue evening gown, smiling with the quiet warmth he remembered from childhood.
He had avoided her room since the funeral.
The grief had been too sharp.
Octavia had encouraged him to keep it locked.
“Why reopen old wounds?” she often asked.
At the time, he had interpreted her words as kindness.
Now they sounded different.
Very different.
***
“Lisette,” Godric said, turning back, “when you saw Octavia leaving my mother's room, did you see what was inside the handkerchief?”
“Not clearly.”
“Was it the bracelet?”
“I think so, sir. Something green caught the light when the fabric slipped.”
He returned to the desk.
“Did she say anything unusual?”
Lisette thought carefully.
“She asked whether I'd been near the room earlier.”
“And had you?”
“No, sir.”
“Did she believe you?”
“I don't think so.”
Godric frowned.
“Why?”
“Because she asked me the same question three times.”
He sat down again.
“Anything else?”
Lisette rubbed her hands nervously.
“She said something strange.”
“What did she say?”
The maid took a breath.
“She said that if anyone asked where the bracelet came from, I should tell them I found it in your mother's dressing table.”
Godric stared at her.
“Before she accused you?”
“Yes, sir.”
He felt a slow chill creep along his spine.
That was not a spontaneous reaction.
Octavia had prepared a story.
She had chosen a location.
She had selected a witness she believed could be frightened into silence.
And she had deliberately placed the bracelet on Lisette's wrist.
“Did she explain why?” he asked.
Lisette shook her head.
“She just said it would be better for everyone.”
“Better for whom?”
“I don't know.”
Godric leaned back.
He knew enough to understand that Octavia was hiding something.
But he did not yet know what.
The possibility that someone had disturbed his mother's grave was so horrifying that he struggled even to consider it.
And yet the bracelet was real.
He had touched it.
He had examined the distinctive clasp and the small scratch on its inner surface, made years earlier when his mother accidentally caught it against a marble staircase.
There could be no mistake.
It was hers.
***
A soft knock interrupted them.
Mr. Pembroke, the estate's longtime butler, entered.
He had served the family for more than thirty years.
His normally composed expression was troubled.
“Forgive me, sir,” he said. “I thought you should know that Miss Octavia is asking for the jewelry case.”
Godric looked up sharply.
“Why?”
“She says it is needed upstairs.”
“For what purpose?”
“She did not explain.”
Godric placed his hand over the case.
“Tell her it remains with me.”
“Very good, sir.”
Pembroke lingered.
Godric noticed.
“Is something else wrong?”
The older man's eyes briefly moved toward Lisette.
Then back to Godric.
“There is a matter concerning your late mother's suite.”
Godric's pulse quickened.
“Go on.”
Pembroke hesitated.
“Several weeks ago, I noticed that the lock on the dressing-room cabinet had been replaced.”
Godric straightened.
“Replaced?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Who authorized it?”
“Miss Octavia informed me that you had requested additional security.”
Godric felt anger rise in his chest.
“I requested no such thing.”
Pembroke looked genuinely distressed.
“I feared that might be the case.”
“Why didn't you ask me?”
“You were abroad on business at the time, sir. Miss Octavia said it was a private family matter.”
Godric pressed his fingers against his forehead.
Octavia had repeatedly used his name to issue instructions.
She had restricted access to his mother's belongings.
She had changed a lock without permission.
And now a bracelet supposedly buried with his mother had mysteriously appeared.
The separate details were beginning to form a pattern.
Not a complete explanation.
But a deeply disturbing one.
“Mr. Pembroke,” Godric said, “from this moment forward, nobody is to enter my mother's rooms without my permission.”
“Understood, sir.”
“And nobody touches this jewelry case.”
Pembroke nodded.
Godric hesitated, then added, “I also want every record relating to the family burial vault brought to my study tomorrow.”
The butler's expression shifted.
“Sir?”
“You heard me.”
“Yes, sir.”
But before he turned to leave, Pembroke spoke again.
“There is one other thing.”
Godric waited.
“Your mother once gave me very specific instructions concerning her personal jewelry.”
Godric felt his heart tighten.
“What instructions?”
“She told me that certain pieces were never to be removed from her possession, under any circumstances.”
Godric looked down at the velvet case.
“Was the emerald bracelet one of them?”
Pembroke nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
A long silence followed.
Then Godric said, “Thank you. That will be all.”
The butler left.
Lisette remained motionless.
Godric stared at the closed door.
His mother had been very clear about the bracelet.
She wanted it buried with her.
And he had personally ensured that her wish was honored.
Something terrible had happened afterward.
***
Upstairs, Octavia stood before the mirror in Godric's private sitting room.
Her engagement gown shimmered beneath the soft golden lights.
Only an hour ago, she had admired herself in that same mirror, imagining the admiration she would receive when Godric announced their wedding date.
Now her carefully arranged hair had loosened, and her hands would not stop shaking.
Helena stood beside the window.
“You need to tell me what's going on,” she said.
Octavia grabbed a tissue.
“Nothing is going on.”
“Octavia.”
“I made a mistake.”
“A mistake?” Helena repeated. “You accused a maid of stealing jewelry that was apparently buried with a dead woman.”
Octavia spun around.
“Keep your voice down!”
Helena stared at her.
“Then tell me the truth.”
Octavia approached the door and checked that it was closed.
When she turned back, her expression was grim.
“I didn't think Godric would remember.”
Helena's face changed.
“Remember what?”
“The bracelet.”
“Why wouldn't he remember something like that?”
“Because he never talks about the funeral!”
Octavia's voice rose.
“He avoids everything connected to his mother. He hasn't entered her room in nearly two years. I thought he had put all those details behind him.”
Helena slowly lowered herself into a chair.
“Where did you get it?”
Octavia said nothing.
“Octavia.”
“Stop asking.”
Helena studied her friend with growing horror.
“You didn't actually go near the grave, did you?”
Octavia's face drained.
The silence stretched.
Helena stood.
“Oh, my God.”
“I said stop asking questions!”
“You need a lawyer.”
Octavia let out a brittle laugh.
“For a bracelet?”
“For whatever you aren't telling me.”
Octavia turned away.
Outside, the last reception cars were leaving the circular driveway.
She watched their red taillights disappear into the darkness.
“I only needed Lisette to take the blame,” she whispered.
Helena stared at her reflection in the window.
“Why Lisette?”
Octavia's fingers tightened around the tissue.
“Because she saw me.”
Helena waited.
Octavia's voice dropped.
“And I couldn't be sure how much.”
***
In the library, Godric finally opened the velvet case again.
The emeralds gleamed beneath the lamplight.
He lifted the bracelet carefully and examined its clasp.
Something about the sight pulled him backward through time.
He could almost hear his mother's laughter.
Almost smell the lavender perfume she wore.
He remembered her sitting beside the garden window, turning the bracelet slowly around her wrist.
“When you find the right woman,” she had told him once, “pay attention to how she treats people who cannot offer her anything.”
Godric had laughed.
“Another lesson about choosing a wife?”
“A very important one.”
He remembered teasing her that Octavia was perfectly charming.
His mother had smiled, but her eyes had grown thoughtful.
“I hope she makes you happy, darling.”
At the time, he had not noticed what she hadn't said.
She had never told him that Octavia was kind.
Never told him she trusted her.
And never once suggested that he should hurry to marry her.
Godric closed his eyes.
Tonight, he had watched Octavia strike a defenseless young woman.
He had heard her lie.
He had seen her attempt to destroy Lisette's reputation before an entire room of guests.
And he had realized how little he truly knew about the person he intended to spend his life with.
When he opened his eyes, Lisette was watching him anxiously.
“Sir?”
“Yes?”
“May I tell you something else?”
He set down the bracelet.
“Of course.”
She hesitated.
“I didn't want to say it in front of everyone.”
Godric leaned forward.
“What is it?”
Lisette glanced toward the library door.
“Miss Octavia wasn't alone when I heard someone in your mother's room earlier that afternoon.”
Godric became very still.
“Someone was with her?”
“I don't know, sir. I couldn't see inside.”
“Then what did you hear?”
“Voices.”
“How many?”
“Two, I think.”
“Could you recognize the other voice?”
Lisette shook her head.
“No. It was too quiet.”
Godric considered her words.
His first instinct was to demand a name, a description, anything that might point toward an answer.
But Lisette was frightened enough already.
He needed facts, not guesses.
“Did you hear what they were discussing?”
“Only a little.”
“Tell me exactly what you remember.”
The maid closed her eyes, concentrating.
“One voice said something about the bracelet being recognized.”
Godric felt his heartbeat quicken.
“And the other?”
Lisette swallowed.
“I heard Miss Octavia say that she would handle it.”
Godric's expression hardened.
“Are you certain those were her words?”
“Yes, sir.”
He sat silently for several moments.
Someone had been concerned that the bracelet would be recognized.
Octavia had promised to handle the problem.
And later, she had forced that very bracelet onto Lisette's wrist and publicly accused her of stealing it.
The sequence was impossible to ignore.
Yet the identity of the second person remained unknown.
And without understanding how the bracelet had left his mother's burial vault, he could not know how much of Lisette's account connected to the central mystery.
***
Near midnight, Godric stood outside his mother's bedroom.
The hallway was quiet.
A single lamp illuminated the oil paintings along the walls.
He had walked past this door countless times since her death.
Tonight was the first time he had dared to stop.
Pembroke had brought him the household key.
Godric inserted it into the lock.
The door opened with a faint creak.
The room smelled of old roses and polished wood.
Nothing appeared dramatically different.
The pale curtains hung beside the tall windows.
His mother's favorite armchair stood near the fireplace.
A small silver-framed photograph of Godric at sixteen rested on the bedside table.
He stepped inside.
For a moment, the investigation disappeared beneath a wave of grief.
He could almost imagine her calling his name.
Asking whether he had eaten.
Reminding him to rest.
He gripped the back of her chair.
“I'm sorry, Mother,” he whispered.
He didn't know whether he was apologizing for avoiding her room or for bringing Octavia into the house.
Perhaps both.
Then he straightened and walked into the adjoining dressing room.
There stood the cabinet Pembroke had mentioned.
The new lock was unmistakable.
Its polished metal looked out of place against the older wood.
Godric examined it without touching the mechanism.
Whoever had arranged the replacement had done so carefully.
He did not attempt to force it open.
Instead, he took out his phone and photographed the cabinet, the lock, and the surrounding room.
He had spent years managing complicated business disputes.
He understood the value of preserving evidence before anyone had an opportunity to alter it.
And whatever this mystery became, he intended to proceed carefully.
He turned toward the dressing table.
The drawers were closed.
The jewelry trays remained beneath a glass cover.
Everything looked orderly.
Almost too orderly.
Godric remembered how his mother had kept her belongings.
She had loved her jewelry, but she was never excessively precise.
A silk scarf might be left draped across a chair.
A pearl earring sometimes rested beside her perfume bottle.
Now every object stood in perfect alignment.
Someone had rearranged the room.
And Godric could no longer assume it had been done out of respect.
***
He returned downstairs shortly after midnight.
Octavia was waiting near the foot of the staircase.
She had changed into a dark silk robe.
Her makeup was gone, revealing exhausted eyes and a strained expression.
“Godric.”
He stopped.
“We need to talk,” she said.
“Yes. We do.”
She approached cautiously.
“I know you're angry.”
“Angry isn't the word I would choose.”
Octavia lowered her gaze.
“I behaved terribly toward Lisette.”
Godric said nothing.
“I was emotional. The reception meant so much to me, and when I saw the bracelet, I panicked.”
“You've already told me that.”
“Because it's true.”
He studied her.
“Where did you get the bracelet?”
Octavia froze.
“I told you. Your mother's room.”
“Where in her room?”
“The dressing table.”
“Which drawer?”
Her eyes flickered.
“I don't remember.”
“You found a priceless antique bracelet belonging to my dead mother, yet you don't remember which drawer?”
“Godric, please.”
He took one step closer.
“Did you know it was buried with her?”
Octavia looked genuinely frightened.
“How could I possibly know that?”
“That isn't an answer.”
“No,” she said quickly. “Of course I didn't.”
Godric watched her.
“You're asking me to believe you found it by chance.”
“Yes.”
“And that you immediately decided to frame Lisette for stealing it.”
Her expression twisted.
“I've apologized for that!”
“You haven't explained it.”
Octavia clenched her fists.
“What do you want from me?”
“The truth.”
For a moment, he thought she might finally tell him.
Instead, her face hardened.
“I won't stand here while you treat me like a criminal.”
She turned toward the staircase.
Godric spoke before she reached the first step.
“The wedding arrangements are suspended.”
Octavia stopped dead.
Slowly, she turned around.
“What did you say?”
“Until I understand what happened tonight, there will be no wedding announcement and no further plans.”
Her lips parted.
“You can't be serious.”
“I am.”
She stared at him as though she no longer recognized him.
“Over a housemaid?”
Godric's voice became cold.
“Over your lies.”
Octavia's eyes filled with fury.
Then she walked upstairs without another word.
Godric watched her disappear.
He had expected the decision to hurt.
Instead, he felt a grim sense of clarity.
He had spent too long excusing things he should have questioned.
That would end tonight.
***
The next morning, Godric met privately with his family solicitor, Mr. Whitmore.
He brought photographs of the bracelet and the newly replaced cabinet lock, along with a written account of what Lisette had told him.
Whitmore listened without interruption.
When Godric finished, the solicitor removed his glasses.
“This is extremely serious.”
“I know.”
“We cannot assume the burial vault was disturbed simply because the bracelet has reappeared.”
Godric nodded.
“What else could explain it?”
“There may have been a substitution before the funeral. Someone may have removed the bracelet before the coffin was sealed. Or the object in your possession may not be the same one.”
“It is the same.”
“I understand your certainty,” Whitmore replied. “But we need independent verification.”
Godric leaned forward.
“Then we obtain it.”
Whitmore explained that they would begin with the funeral records, the estate's records concerning access to the family vault, and an examination by a reputable jewelry specialist.
If evidence indicated that the grave had been disturbed, they would involve the appropriate authorities.
Godric agreed.
He wanted answers.
But more than that, he wanted those answers to be undeniable.
Before leaving, Whitmore asked one final question.
“Does Miss Octavia know you're investigating?”
“She knows I no longer believe her.”
“That may be enough to make her nervous.”
Godric looked out the window.
“She already is.”
***
That afternoon, Lisette returned to the library.
Godric had arranged for another employee to accompany her so she would not have to cross paths with Octavia.
He also made it clear that her position was secure and that any further mistreatment should be reported directly to him.
Lisette seemed overwhelmed.
“Thank you, sir.”
“You don't need to thank me for protecting you from something that should never have happened.”
She nodded.
Then she hesitated.
“There is something I've been thinking about.”
Godric gestured for her to continue.
“When Miss Octavia came out of your mother's room, she kept looking toward the staircase.”
“Why?”
“I think she was waiting for someone.”
Godric frowned.
“The person you heard speaking with her?”
“Maybe. I don't know.”
He appreciated her caution.
“Did anyone come?”
“Not while I was there.”
“Anything else?”
Lisette pressed her lips together.
“After she saw me, she told me to leave the upstairs hallway immediately.”
“And you did?”
“Yes.”
“But?”
Lisette looked embarrassed.
“I was frightened, sir. I stopped on the lower landing because I heard a door close.”
“Which door?”
“I couldn't tell.”
Godric waited.
“Then I heard footsteps moving away from your mother's room.”
“Toward the main staircase?”
“No, sir.”
She looked directly at him.
“Toward the back stairs.”
Godric's eyes narrowed.
The back staircase connected the upper floor with the service corridor.
It was rarely used by guests.
Someone leaving by that route could avoid the reception hall entirely.
“Did you see who it was?”
“No.”
“Could you tell anything from the footsteps?”
Lisette shook her head.
“Only that the person was moving quickly.”
Godric wrote down her exact words.
Then he thanked her.
He did not ask her to speculate.
But after she left, he stared at the notes for a long time.
Octavia had been in his mother's room.
Someone else might have been there.
And that person might have used the back staircase to leave unseen.
He had no proof yet.
But now he had a direction.
***
That evening, Pembroke brought the first set of burial records to Godric's study.
The documents were carefully arranged in a dark leather folder.
Godric opened them beneath his desk lamp.
The funeral details were exactly as he remembered.
His mother's date of death.
The service.
The family burial vault.
The name of the funeral director who had supervised the arrangements.
Then Pembroke pointed toward a separate sheet.
“This concerns access to the vault, sir.”
Godric examined it.
The estate had maintained a register of authorized visits and maintenance work.
Most entries were ordinary.
Routine inspections.
Cleaning.
Seasonal repairs to the stonework.
But one entry immediately caught his attention.
It concerned a maintenance request submitted several months earlier.
The timing matched the period when Octavia had begun restricting access to his mother's bedroom.
Godric leaned closer.
“What was this work?”
Pembroke adjusted his glasses.
“An inspection of the vault entrance, apparently.”
“Apparently?”
“The work was arranged through the estate office, sir. I was not personally present.”
Godric studied the page.
The request had been authorized under his name.
Yet he had no memory of approving it.
“Did I sign this?”
Pembroke hesitated.
“Your authorization is recorded.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
“No, sir.”
Godric stared at the document.
He had spent that entire week traveling on business.
The records of his trip would be easy to confirm.
He turned the page.
A second notation referenced a key being issued for the inspection.
Godric felt the muscles in his shoulders tighten.
“Who collected it?”
Pembroke moved closer.
They examined the handwritten entry together.
The name was partially obscured by an old ink mark.
But the date was clear.
So was the purpose.
Access to the family burial vault.
Godric slowly closed the folder.
The bracelet.
The unauthorized cabinet lock.
Octavia's attempts to keep the staff away.
The false accusation against Lisette.
And now a maintenance request concerning his mother's resting place, approved in his name without his knowledge.
The connection was becoming impossible to dismiss.
But one question still haunted him.
Had the vault actually been opened?
Or had someone simply wanted access?
***
A knock sounded at the study door.
Pembroke opened it.
Helena stood in the hallway.
She looked pale.
“I'm sorry to disturb you, Godric.”
He rose.
“Is Octavia all right?”
Helena swallowed.
“Physically, yes.”
Godric studied her face.
“Then what is it?”
She glanced at Pembroke.
“May I speak to you privately?”
Godric nodded, and the butler quietly withdrew.
Helena stepped inside.
For several seconds, she seemed unable to speak.
Finally, she said, “Octavia told me something last night.”
Godric remained silent.
“I don't know how much of it was true. She was frightened. She wasn't thinking clearly.”
“What did she tell you?”
Helena looked toward the window.
“She said she never expected you to remember the bracelet.”
Godric felt his pulse quicken.
“Anything else?”
Helena hesitated.
“She said Lisette had seen too much.”
He moved closer.
“Seen what?”
“She wouldn't tell me.”
“Helena.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I've known Octavia for years. I've defended her when people called her selfish or cruel. I believed she was simply difficult sometimes.”
Her voice cracked.
“But last night, when I asked whether she'd been near your mother's grave, she looked terrified.”
Godric went completely still.
“What did she say?”
“Nothing.”
Helena wiped her eyes.
“That's what frightened me.”
Godric turned toward the desk, where the burial records lay open.
Helena followed his gaze.
“What are those?”
“Documents concerning my mother's vault.”
She looked at him sharply.
“Godric, there's something else.”
He waited.
“Before I left Octavia's room last night, she received a telephone call.”
“From whom?”
“I don't know. She stepped into the hallway.”
“What did you hear?”
Helena took a shaky breath.
“She said, 'He remembers. We have a problem.'”
Godric stared at her.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
“Did she say anything else?”
Helena nodded slowly.
“She told the person not to call her again.”
Godric looked down at the burial records.
Someone had helped Octavia.
Or, at the very least, someone knew something she desperately wanted hidden.
The possibility had been forming in his mind since Lisette mentioned hearing two voices.
Now it was becoming harder to ignore.
***
After Helena left, Godric returned to the entry concerning the vault inspection.
He examined the paperwork again.
There was a reference number for the original work order and a contact listed at the funeral service company.
He wrote both down.
Then he looked at the photograph of his mother on his desk.
She was smiling beside him at a family celebration, the emerald bracelet clearly visible on her wrist.
He remembered how proud she had been of him that day.
How she had told him that wealth meant very little if a person couldn't be trusted with it.
Godric touched the edge of the frame.
“I'll find out what happened,” he whispered.
Then his phone vibrated.
A message had arrived from Whitmore.
The solicitor had obtained confirmation that the maintenance request was genuine.
But the inspection had not been recorded as ordinary cleaning.
The original description had been more specific.
It concerned access to the inner compartment of the family burial vault.
Godric read the message twice.
His mouth went dry.
The inner compartment was where his mother's coffin had been placed.
He reached for the leather folder again.
Then another message appeared.
Whitmore had found the name of the person who requested the work.
Godric opened the attachment.
At the top was the estate authorization form.
The handwriting was familiar.
The signature appeared to be his.
But he knew he had never signed it.
Beneath the signature was a separate instruction directing that all correspondence about the work be sent through Octavia.
Godric stared at the page.
She had not merely entered his mother's room.
She had apparently involved herself in arrangements concerning the burial vault.
And she had done it while concealing the matter from him.
He was still studying the document when the study door opened.
Octavia stood in the doorway.
Her eyes went immediately to the papers on his desk.
For one second, her face showed nothing.
Then she saw the burial record.
And all the color vanished from her cheeks.
“Godric,” she whispered.
He slowly stood.
“Why is your name connected to an inspection of my mother's burial vault?”
Octavia didn't answer.
He placed the document between them.
“Why was this authorized using my signature?”
Her eyes darted toward the door.
“Where did you get that?”
Godric felt something tighten painfully in his chest.
He had hoped she would deny it.
He had hoped she would look confused.
Instead, she had recognized the paperwork immediately.
“Answer me, Octavia.”
She took a step backward.
“I can explain.”
“Then explain.”
Octavia opened her mouth.
But before she could speak, Godric's phone rang.
Whitmore's name appeared on the screen.
Godric answered without taking his eyes off her.
“Tell me.”
The solicitor's voice was tense.
“Godric, I've just spoken with the company responsible for the vault inspection.”
“And?”
There was a pause.
“According to their records, the inner compartment was opened.”
Godric gripped the edge of his desk.
Octavia watched him, her breathing suddenly shallow.
Whitmore continued.
“And Godric, there is something else you need to know.”
Godric could barely speak.
“What?”
“The work order includes an instruction concerning your mother's coffin.”
Godric stared at Octavia.
“What instruction?”
Whitmore hesitated.
Then he said, “It specifically requested that the coffin be accessed.”
For several seconds, Godric heard nothing but the pounding of his own heart.
His mother's coffin.
Someone had requested access to his mother's coffin.
Under his name.
Without his knowledge.
Godric slowly lowered the phone.
Octavia was backing toward the hallway.
“Don't move,” he said.
She stopped.
He looked at the woman he had planned to marry.
The woman who had humiliated an innocent maid.
The woman who had insisted that a bracelet buried with his mother had simply appeared in a dressing-table drawer.
His voice came out low and dangerously steady.
“Octavia, tell me exactly what happened to my mother's coffin.”
Octavia pressed a trembling hand against her mouth.
For a moment, she looked ready to confess.
Then her eyes filled with unmistakable terror.
And she whispered something that made Godric's blood run cold.
“I wasn't supposed to be the one holding the bracelet.”
Godric stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
Octavia shook her head.
“You don't understand.”
“Then make me understand.”
Her gaze dropped to the burial records.
And when she spoke again, her voice was barely audible.
“Godric... the person who arranged for that coffin to be opened knew exactly what your mother was buried wearing.”
Godric felt the room tilt around him.
Because Octavia had just confirmed something far more disturbing than a stolen piece of jewelry.
Someone had deliberately targeted his mother's grave.
Someone had known what was inside.
And Octavia knew who that person was.
May you like
But before he could demand the name, she lifted her frightened eyes to his and whispered:
“If I tell you who gave me that bracelet, everything you believe about what happened after your mother's death will change.”
