Chapter 12 - Edmund Disappears Before Dawn
This time Cordelia did not hide the threat.
At sunrise she rode to Ravensworth.
Julian was halfway through breakfast when she entered.
He stood immediately.
“What happened?”
She handed him the note.
He read it.
His expression changed.
“Where is Edmund?”
“With Beatrice and two armed men.”
“Good.”
“I need your help.”
Nothing dramatic crossed Julian’s face.
No satisfaction that she had returned.
No reminder that he had warned her.
Only focus.
“You have it.”
Those three words repaired something.
Westcott arrived within an hour.
They listed everyone connected to Vale.
Bankers.
Agents.
Surveyors.
Landowners.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Lord Malcolm Harcourt.
Celeste’s father.
Cordelia stared.
“That cannot be right.”
Julian looked sick.
“Why?”
“Because he was my father’s closest friend.”
Celeste arrived that afternoon after Julian sent for her.
When shown the records, she became pale.
“My father invested with Vale years ago.”
“Did he know about Thornwood?” Julian asked.
“I do not know.”
“Celeste.”
“I do not know!”
Her voice cracked.
Cordelia touched her arm.
Celeste sat.
“My father has debts.”
Julian frowned.
“Harcourt owns half of Sussex.”
“Owned.”
She laughed bitterly.
“He gambled. Invested badly. Alexander’s death changed him.”
“How?”
“He became reckless.”
Cordelia understood grief making people unrecognizable.
“Could he have threatened Edmund?”
Celeste closed her eyes.
“I want to say no.”
“But?”
“He has done things I never believed possible.”
They traveled to Harcourt Lodge.
Lord Malcolm welcomed them warmly.
Too warmly.
He denied everything.
Then Julian placed the anonymous note beside his handwriting.
The resemblance was obvious.
Malcolm’s smile disappeared.
“You have no proof.”
Celeste whispered, “Father.”
He looked at her.
Something hardened.
“You do not understand.”
“Then explain.”
“Vale promised returns.”
“From stolen land?”
“I did not know initially.”
“Initially?”
Malcolm paced.
“By the time I understood, I was already involved.”
Julian’s voice was cold.
“Did you help poison my father?”
“No!”
“Did you know?”
Silence.
Julian stepped closer.
“Did you know?”
Malcolm looked away.
“I knew Vale was arranging something.”
Julian went white.
Cordelia had never seen rage held so tightly.
“You allowed my father to die.”
“I had debts.”
Julian struck him.
Malcolm crashed against the desk.
Celeste screamed.
Cordelia caught Julian’s arm.
“Stop.”
“He knew.”
“I know.”
“He knew.”
Cordelia forced him to look at her.
“And if you kill him, Vale wins again.”
Julian’s breathing was ragged.
Finally he stepped back.
Malcolm wiped blood from his mouth.
“You think you are better?”
Julian turned.
“You bought Thornwood’s debt.”
Cordelia stiffened.
Malcolm laughed.
“Powerful men always call control protection.”
Julian flinched.
Cordelia saw it.
Malcolm had aimed carefully.
Celeste stood.
“I am leaving.”
“Celeste—”
“Do not call me daughter.”
She walked out.
Malcolm sank into his chair.
“I never touched the child.”
“Who wrote the threat?” Cordelia asked.
“I did.”
“Why?”
“To frighten you away from investigating.”
“You threatened an eight-year-old.”
“I would not have harmed him.”
Cordelia’s voice became quiet.
“Cowards always believe intent matters more than terror.”
Malcolm looked ashamed.
It was not enough.
His testimony helped expose Vale’s network.
But before they could leave, a rider arrived from Thornwood.
Edmund was missing.
Again.
Cordelia nearly stopped functioning.
“No.”
The rider was breathless.
“He was in the garden. Two men were watching him. Mrs. Ashworth went inside for less than a minute.”
Julian grabbed his coat.
Cordelia was already moving.
They reached Thornwood in forty minutes.
Beatrice stood in the drive without shoes.
“I turned away.”
Cordelia grabbed her shoulders.
“Who took him?”
“I do not know.”
“Think!”
“A carriage.”
“What crest?”
“None.”
Julian examined tracks.
Westcott found a torn piece of fabric near the gate.
Prison gray.
One of Vale’s men had escaped custody that morning.
Cordelia felt dizzy.
A note arrived an hour later.
Not from Vale.
From his former steward, Silas Crane.
Vale paid me for ten years and abandoned me when he was arrested. I want fifty thousand pounds and passage to France.
Bring it to the old quarry by sunset.
Cordelia stared.
“Fifty thousand?”
Julian said, “I can obtain it.”
“No.”
Everyone looked at her.
Cordelia’s hands shook.
“No more purchasing our safety one crisis at a time.”
“Cordelia—”
“Crane does not want Edmund. He wants leverage.”
“Yes.”
“Then we give him something more valuable.”
“What?”
“Vale.”
Westcott frowned.
“He is in custody.”
“Crane thinks Vale abandoned him.”
Julian understood first.
“You want Vale to believe Crane intends to testify.”
“Yes.”
“And make Crane believe Vale has ordered his death.”
Beatrice stared.
“That is dangerous.”
Cordelia looked at her.
“He took my son.”
Her voice contained something Beatrice had never heard before.
Dangerous was no longer an objection.
By sunset, Cordelia entered the abandoned quarry carrying a case.
Crane appeared above her with Edmund.
Cordelia’s heart stopped.
The boy was dirty but alive.
“Mama!”
Crane pulled him back.
“Money.”
Cordelia opened the case.
Inside was not cash.
It contained Vale’s account books.
Crane stared.
“What is this?”
“Your death sentence.”
His face changed.
“Vale ordered Westcott to turn those over.”
“You are lying.”
“He knows you escaped.”
“No.”
“He knows you took Edmund.”
Crane stepped backward.
Cordelia continued.
“He has already blamed every murder, forgery and bribe on you.”
“That bastard.”
“Help us prove otherwise.”
Crane looked at Edmund.
Then at the papers.
“You promise protection?”
“I promise testimony matters more than silence.”
A gunshot echoed.
Crane jerked.
Blood spread across his coat.
Edmund screamed.
A second man stood above the quarry.
Vale’s remaining agent.
Julian fired.
The man dropped his weapon and fled.
Cordelia ran toward Edmund.
Crane lay dying.
He grabbed her sleeve.
“Ledger,” he whispered.
“What ledger?”
“Vale kept real accounts.”
“Where?”
Crane coughed blood.
“Thornwood.”
Cordelia stared.
“Where at Thornwood?”
“Behind… portrait.”
“Which portrait?”
His eyes lost focus.
“Blue dress.”
Then he died.
Cordelia held Edmund.
Behind the portrait.
Blue dress.
She knew exactly which one.
The portrait hanging above Thornwood’s drawing-room fireplace.
A woman in blue.
May you like
Cordelia’s mother.
And whatever Vale had hidden behind Eleanor Ashworth’s portrait might finally reveal every person he had bought.
