Chapter 10 - The Manor in the Mist
The Vance estate in Bedford was a sprawling stone manor surrounded by hundreds of acres of ancient oak trees and high iron fences. Fog clung to the rolling lawns as the black SUV pulled up the winding gravel driveway. For the first time in nine months, Clara felt the crushing weight of the city lift from her chest, replaced by an eerie, sprawling isolation.
Inside, the manor was warm, smelling of polished mahogany, beeswax, and burning birchwood from the massive stone fireplaces. Julian carried their luggage up the grand staircase while Clara carried a sleeping Lily in her arms.
Christian had not ridden in the car with them. He had stayed in the city, attending to what Julian cryptically described as ""boardroom containment."" Clara knew better. He was going to war.
The nursery prepared for Lily was breathtaking. It was painted in soft sage green, with hand-carved wooden furniture, plush toys, and a crib draped in soft linen. It looked like a room prepared months in advance, not thrown together in a single afternoon.
Clara laid Lily down, tucking the embroidered blanket around her tiny shoulders. She stroked the baby's soft cheek, whispering a quiet prayer of thanks. For tonight, at least, they were safe from the cold, damp corners of public shelters.
She walked out into the master wing, finding Christian’s private study at the end of the hall. The door was slightly ajar, warm amber light spilling onto the dark parquet floor. Drawn by an inexplicable curiosity, Clara stepped inside.
The walls were lined with leather-bound books and maritime maps. On the massive desk sat a single silver picture frame turned facedown. Clara hesitated, her conscience warring with the haunting question that had plagued her all afternoon.
Who is Eleanor?
Her fingers touched the cold silver edge. She slowly turned the frame upright. The woman in the photograph had vibrant auburn hair and an infectious smile, standing on the deck of a sailboat with Christian laughing behind her. But what caught Clara’s breath was the emerald pendant around the woman's neck—the exact same stone that now sat mounted in the wedding ring on Clara's left hand.
May you like
Footsteps stopped abruptly behind her.
""You shouldn't be in here,"" Christian's voice cut through the dark.
