Eleanor looked up.
“Almost nothing.”
She blinked.
Mrs.
Fenwick continued.
“You were the same woman yesterday.”
That stayed with Eleanor.
Not because it comforted her.
Because it clarified something.
If she inherited Blackthorn and became cruel, the bloodline would explain nothing.
If she remained decent, wealth would deserve no credit.
A title did not create character.
Neither did an apron erase it.
Adrian escaped custody before dawn.
That was the final danger.
Constable Reeves made the humiliating discovery at five fifteen.
A rear window broken.
A guard unconscious.
A horse missing.
Eleanor immediately knew where Adrian would go.
“The chapel.”
Dr.
Vale frowned.
“The documents are already removed.”
“Not all of them.”
“What remains?”
Eleanor remembered the iron box.
At the very bottom had been a narrow sealed packet she had not opened.
Addressed in Nathaniel’s hand:
FOR ELEANOR ONLY.
She had left it hidden because too many people surrounded her.
Now Adrian might have seen it.
They ran.
The chapel door stood open.
Inside, Adrian held the packet over a candle.
“Stop.”
He turned.
His face looked wrecked.
Mud on his coat.
Blood on one sleeve.
No polish left.
No master.
Just desperation.
“You have everything,” he said.
Eleanor moved closer.
“Then why do you need that?”
“Because you don’t know what it says.”
“You do?”
“I know enough.”
Dr.
Vale entered behind her.
Adrian produced a small revolver.
Again.
“Stay back.”
Eleanor stopped.
“What could possibly be left?”
He laughed bitterly.
“You think this story ends with you being Edmund’s daughter?”
Her skin went cold.
“What does that mean?”
Adrian looked at the packet.
“Your precious Nathaniel lied too.”
Eleanor said nothing.
“Everyone lied to you.”
He tore open the envelope.
Inside were two papers.
He read one.
Then smiled.
A terrible smile.
“I knew it.”
“What?”
“You are not Edmund’s daughter.”
The chapel became silent.
He threw one paper onto the floor.
Eleanor picked it up.
A physician’s statement.
Catherine had already been nearly three months pregnant when she married Edmund.
Eleanor stared.
Adrian laughed.
“There goes your inheritance.”
But Nathaniel’s second paper remained in his hand.
He began reading.
His smile vanished.
Slowly.
Completely.
“What?”
Adrian said nothing.
Eleanor stepped forward.
“What does it say?”
He backed away.
She understood.
Whatever was on that page frightened him more than her claim to Blackthorn.
Adrian moved toward the candle.
Eleanor rushed him.
He fired.
The bullet struck stone.
Dr.
Vale lunged.
Adrian shoved him aside.
Eleanor seized the paper.
It tore.
Half remained in Adrian’s hand.
Half in hers.
The candle fell.
Flame caught the old altar cloth.
Fire raced upward.
“Get out!”
Dr.
Vale shouted.
Smoke filled the chapel.
Adrian ran toward the side door.
Then burning timber crashed.
He fell.
His leg trapped beneath it.
Eleanor reached the main entrance.
Stopped.
Adrian screamed.
“Help me!”
Fire climbed the wall.
Dr.
Vale seized Eleanor’s arm.
“We have to go!”
She looked back.
This man had humiliated her.
Threatened her.
Possibly helped conceal the truth of her father.
He had held a gun on her twice.
If she walked outside now, perhaps nobody would blame her.
Eleanor pulled free of Dr.
Vale.
Ran back.
Together they lifted the burning beam.
