Page 40

T he morning air was warm, the drawing room bristled with quiet tension, a stillness that felt out of place.

Conversations were hushed, the usual chatter replaced with quiet speculation.

Though sunlight streamed through the tall windows, it did little to dispel the tension that had settled over the house.

What had begun as a weekend of sport and leisure had turned into something far more unsettling.

Lady Carlisle smoothed her skirts, glancing nervously at Miss Hathaway. “I suppose we should have expected some sort of explanation,” she murmured.

Miss Hathaway sighed, her fingers twisting the edge of her handkerchief. “But do we truly want to hear it?”

Davenport, who stood near the window, let out a quiet breath. “It’s better to know the truth than continue pretending nothing happened.”

Barrington stood near the mantel, his expression solemn but composed.

At his side, Townsend and Grenville flanked him, their presence reinforcing the gravity of the moment.

Bridget stood nearby, her hands clasped before her, her gaze looking over the faces of everyone assembled.

Marjory sat stiffly, her fingers tangled together in her lap, eyes downcast but listening.

Scofield was notably absent. His discreet presence had become a fixture over the past few days.

The hush deepened as Barrington cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention to him.

“As you are all aware, we have been investigating the tragic death of Mark Alastair,” he began. “I regret that this weekend, meant to be one of sport and leisure, has been marred by something far more sinister. But now, we have answers that we can share with you.”

A heavy silence followed, expectant and uneasy.

Barrington continued, his voice steady. “Mark Alastair did not suffer a fatal accident.” Barrington paused, letting the words settle. “He was murdered, and the culprit was among us. Lady Evelina Worthington,” he paused, allowing the name to settle over the room, “was responsible for his death.”

Gasps rippled through the gathering. Miss Hathaway pressed a hand to her mouth, while Lady Carlisle’s fingers tightened around her handkerchief.

“God’s teeth,” Davenport muttered under his breath.

Blackwood remained expressionless, his arms crossed as he absorbed the statement.

“Evelina?” Marjory’s voice cracked. “But she was my friend… why would she do this?” Her voice wavered, caught between shock and disbelief.

Townsend stepped forward, his gaze sharp.

“Lady Worthington was a member of the Order of Shadows, a clandestine organization that seeks to manipulate those in power for their own ends. Mark Alastair, through his research into his family’s library, stumbled upon a book containing their secrets.

When he refused to give them what he had found, he became a liability. ”

Barrington’s expression hardened. “She used her bodkin, a seemingly innocuous embroidery tool, coated with poison to end his life. And she did so without hesitation.”

Miss Gray shuddered, her eyes darting to her friend. “Good heavens, we dined with her.”

Davenport let out a slow breath. “And where is she now?”

“She has been taken into custody and will be transported to London for trial,” Barrington confirmed.

“Along with the other members of the Order that Grenville and Lady Bridget captured yesterday.” Barrington glanced at Grenville, his expression softening for a moment, an unspoken acknowledgment of their shared risk.

He turned back to the others. “The Order will not escape scrutiny.”

A hush settled over the room, expectant and uneasy.

Bridget took a steadying breath before she stepped forward, her voice gentle but firm.

“There is one more matter.” Bridget looked around the room.

“I kept wondering why Alastair refused to sell the book. Why was it worth his life. It held more than secrets. It contained a list of people. Families. Members of the Order whose ties go back to the late 1600’s.

It was where we found Lord Kerrington, Lady Worthington’s ancestor.

” She turned to Marjory. “He also found Baron Ellington.”

As gasps swelled and murmurs began, Marjory’s head snapped up, fear flickering in her eyes. “What?”

Professor Tresham, who had been silent until now, retrieved a document from his coat.

“Alastair found your maiden name, Ellington. But,” he hesitated, “we discovered a different Ellington line. Your family was not affiliated with the Order. Alastair wanted to prove it before coming to you. I brought him the final documentation when I arrived on Friday.”

Marjory inhaled sharply, her hands shaking. “So… he was trying to protect me.”

Bridget reached out, squeezing her hand. “Yes. And he succeeded. It is why he wouldn’t give them the book or the list.”

Marjory let out a shuddering breath, relief and sorrow warring in her expression. “He died protecting me.”

Barrington inclined his head. “Indeed. His actions ensured that the truth was uncovered.”

The guests absorbed the information in stunned silence. Lady Carlisle dabbed her eyes with a lace handkerchief. Miss Hathaway, usually so composed, whispered something to Miss Gray, who nodded solemnly.

Davenport exhaled. “Then it is over.”

Barrington’s gaze swept the room. “Yes, my friends. You are all free to leave this afternoon. The investigation is complete. Those responsible will face justice in London.”

A murmur of conversation rose among the guests. Lady Carlisle sat back in her chair, exhaling deeply, while Miss Hathaway exchanged a relieved glance with Miss Gray. Davenport rubbed the back of his neck, as though still absorbing the gravity of what had been revealed.

Blackwood, who had remained silent, finally pushed off from where he leaned against the fireplace. “The Order will not let this lie,” he said grimly. “You know that.”

Barrington met his gaze. “We’ve set events in motion. But for now, this house is safe. And those who need to answer for their crimes are on their way to London.”

Bridget turned to Thomas, their eyes meeting. No words were needed. The cost had been steep, but today, they had won.