Julia stood before the locked East Wing door, the cold iron mocking her desperation. The realization that Alistair had secured it, that Finch likely held the key, was a bitter pill. Her heart sank, a heavy stone in her chest.
Silas stepped up beside her, his expression a grim mirror of her own. He tested the handle once more, a futile gesture that only confirmed the impossibility. "A sturdy lock," he muttered, his voice tight with frustration. "And Alistair isn't one to do things by halves."
Just then, a soft gasp pierced the silence of the corridor. Both Julia and Silas spun around. Elsie, the timid maid, stood frozen at the end of the hallway, a small, overturned basket of linens at her feet. Her eyes, wide with confusion and fear, darted between Julia and the shadowy figure of Silas.
"Miss Harrow?" Elsie whispered, her voice barely a breath. "Who… who is that? And why are you here? At the East Wing?"
Before Julia could even formulate a single coherent word, Silas moved. He was a blur of motion, covering the distance to Elsie in a few silent strides. He clamped a hand over her mouth, muffling her startled cry, and with his other arm, he gently but firmly pulled her back into the deeper shadows of the corridor.
"Not a sound, little maid," Silas murmured, his voice low and firm, but not unkind. "Not one."
Julia rushed forward, her own fear momentarily forgotten in a surge of protective instinct. "Silas! Don't hurt her!" she exclaimed, her voice hushed but urgent. "Elsie, it's alright. He won't hurt you."
Elsie's eyes, still wide with terror, remained fixed on Silas, but Julia's words seemed to register. She nodded frantically, her small body trembling.
Between them, Julia and Silas, with surprising gentleness, guided the bewildered maid back towards Julia's chambers. The journey felt endless, each shadow a potential witness, every distant creak of the house a threat. Once inside Julia's room, the heavy door clicked shut and locked behind them.
Elsie pulled away from Silas, her chest heaving, her eyes still darting between them. She looked at Julia, her lower lip trembling. "Miss Harrow, he… he was going to take you! I thought… I thought he was going to kidnap you!"
Julia reached out, taking Elsie's small, cold hands in her own. "No, Elsie, no. He means me no harm. Please, listen to me. This is… this is a secret. A very important secret." She took a deep breath, trying to calm her own racing heart. "This is Silas. He… he was a friend of Lady Marian's. And he's here to help me. To help us, find out what truly happened to her."
Elsie's eyes widened further, a flicker of understanding mixed with disbelief. "Lady Marian?" she whispered, her gaze moving to Silas, who stood silently, watching them both.
"Yes," Julia affirmed, squeezing Elsie's hands. "He was very dear to her. And he believes, as I do, that her death was not as it seemed. We need your help, Elsie. We need you to keep this secret. You must not tell Lord Blackwood or Mr. Finch. Not a word."
Elsie looked down at her hands, then back at Julia, a surprising resolve hardening her gaze. "I would never tell them," she declared, her voice firmer than Julia had ever heard it. "I… I loved Lady Marian. She was always so kind to me. And I knew… I knew things were not right. She was so sad, Miss Harrow. So very sad." Her eyes welled with unshed tears. "I want to know the truth too."
A spark of hope ignited within Julia. An unexpected ally. "Then you understand why you must keep this quiet?"
Elsie nodded vigorously. "Yes, Miss Harrow. I promise. My lips are sealed." Then, to Julia's utter astonishment, Elsie looked from the locked door to Silas, her brow furrowed in thought. "The East Wing… it's locked, isn't it? Lord Blackwood had Finch put a new lock on it after you… after you went there the first time."
Julia nodded slowly, surprised by Elsie's perceptiveness. "Yes. We just found that out. And we have no key."
Elsie straightened her shoulders, a determined gleam in her eye. "I know where Mr. Finch keeps his spare keys. He has a ring of them. I can get it for you."
Julia's jaw dropped. "Elsie! No! That's far too dangerous! Finch watches everything. He's always watching."
"But I know his ways, Miss Harrow," Elsie insisted, her voice quiet but firm. "I know his rounds. I know when he retires for the night. And I know where he leaves the keys, sometimes. He thinks no one notices, but I do." She looked at Julia, her gaze pleading. "Please. Let me help. Lady Marian… she deserves justice. And I know you're trying to find it for her."
Julia hesitated. It was an enormous risk, placing so much trust in a young, timid maid. But Elsie's conviction was undeniable. And they were out of options.
"Are you certain, Elsie?" Julia asked, her voice low. "If you are caught… there will be dire consequences."
"I am certain," Elsie replied, her chin lifting defiantly. "I want to help. I will be careful, Miss Harrow. I promise."
Julia made her decision. She looked at Silas, who remained silent, his eyes fixed on Elsie, an unreadable expression on his face. She turned back to Elsie, a genuine smile touching her lips. "Thank you, Elsie. Truly. This means… everything."
Elsie smiled back, a shy, hopeful smile. "I'll go now. Before he settles in for the night." She moved to the door, her usual timidity replaced by a quiet determination.
As the door clicked shut behind Elsie, Silas finally spoke, his voice sharp, laced with an unexpected anger. "Julia! What were you thinking? Trusting her so easily? She's a servant, beholden to Blackwood. What stops her from running straight to Finch, or Alistair, and exposing us? She owes you no loyalty!"
Julia turned on him, her own temper flaring. The strain of the night, the near-discovery, the shocking intimacy in the alcove, all combined to ignite her frustration. "What stops her, Silas? Perhaps the same thing that stops you from abandoning me here! A sense of right! A loyalty to Marian! You always assume the worst in people, don't you? Not everyone is as cynical as you!"
"Cynicism is often a shield, Julia, for those who've learned that trust is a luxury few can afford!" Silas retorted, his voice rising, his eyes glinting with a dangerous fire. "Especially in this house! She's a child, naive and easily manipulated!"
"She's a loyal, brave girl who wants to help, Silas!" Julia snapped back, her voice shaking with indignation. "And unlike some, I choose to believe in the good in people until they prove me wrong!"
Their argument hung in the air, sharp and brittle, until a soft knock interrupted them. Both froze, their gazes locking on the door. It opened a crack, and Elsie's head peeked in, her hand held aloft.
In her small, triumphant grasp, gleamed a heavy iron key, dark and ancient.
"I got it," Elsie whispered, her eyes shining with pride.
Julia's anger at Silas evaporated, replaced by stunned relief and a surge of admiration for the brave girl. She looked at Silas, a triumphant, silent retort in her eyes. See? I told you.
"Elsie, how… how did you do it?" Julia asked, moving quickly to the door.
Elsie beamed, a shy smile spreading across her face. "Mr. Finch keeps his night keys on a hook inside his pantry, just behind the preserves. He's always very particular about his tea set, and I knew he'd be polishing it in the kitchen at this hour. So, I offered to help him fetch some fresh tea leaves from the pantry." She giggled, a nervous, triumphant sound. "He was so focused on his polishing, he barely noticed when I slipped in and took it. He thinks no one else ever goes near his pantry."
Julia shook her head, a mixture of disbelief and awe. "That was incredibly risky, Elsie. And incredibly clever."
"I told you I knew his ways," Elsie said, her chest puffed out slightly. "He never suspects the quiet ones."
Julia looked at the heavy iron key in Elsie's hand, then at Silas. This was it. Their chance.
"Wait," Silas said, his voice firm, stepping in front of her, blocking her path. His eyes, though still holding a spark of their earlier irritation, were now grave. He took the heavy iron key from Elsie's outstretched hand. "Julia, you are not coming."
Julia stared at him. "What? Of course, I am! This is my investigation, Silas. My cousin."
"No," he insisted, his voice brooking no argument. "It's too dangerous. That wing… it's dark. It's unknown. And Agnes patrols. The last time, I saw her before you did. I was hiding. You won't be." He reached out, his hand gently grasping her arm, his touch a silent plea. "I will go. I will search. And I will find whatever Marian left behind."
"But you could be caught!" Julia protested, her voice rising in alarm. "What if Agnes finds you? What if Alistair checks?"
"I am more accustomed to avoiding detection than you, little bookworm," Silas replied, a wry twist to his lips, though his eyes were serious. "You've done more than enough. You found me, you sheltered me, you found the key. I won't fail you now." He paused, his gaze softening, a warmth entering his amber eyes. "Thank you, Julia. For everything. For the food, for the shelter, for the trust. And for the pain." He touched his still-reddened cheek. "I promise, it will be worth it."
Before Julia could argue further, Silas nodded at Elsie, a silent acknowledgement of her courage, then moved swiftly to the door. He unlocked it and slipped out into the darkened corridor, a shadow melting into deeper shadows.
Julia watched him go, a mix of profound relief and a fresh wave of fear washing over her. Relief that he was safe from discovery in her room, fear for what he might encounter in the silent, forbidden East Wing. She clutched the key, its cold metal a tangible link to the danger that now stalked the corridors of Blackwood Hall.
Elsie moved closer, her young face etched with concern. "Are you alright, Miss Harrow? You look quite pale."
Julia sighed, running a hand over her tired eyes. "I will be, Elsie. Eventually." She glanced at the key in her hand. "This is all… quite overwhelming."
"Perhaps a warm drink, Miss Harrow?" Elsie offered kindly. "To settle your nerves?"
Julia shook her head, a faint smile touching her lips. "No, Elsie, thank you. You've done more than enough for one night. You should go and get some rest yourself. You've been very brave."
Elsie nodded, a blush creeping up her neck at the praise. She paused at the door. "Goodnight, Miss Harrow."
"Goodnight, Elsie," Julia replied. Just as Elsie was about to leave, Julia found herself asking, almost on a whim, "Elsie, do you know what Lord Blackwood is doing at this hour? Is he in his study?"
Elsie hesitated, then lowered her voice. "No, Miss Harrow. Not tonight. He's… he's in the Lady Garden."
Julia frowned. The Lady Garden? At this hour? "The Lady Garden?" she repeated, puzzled. "But why? What is he doing there so late?"
Elsie's eyes darted nervously, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "He… he sleeps there, Miss Harrow. Sometimes. When he can't sleep in his own bed. He sleeps in the gazebo. With Lady Marian's portrait."