Chapter 4
For the second time in twenty-four hours, Margaret had to be told to sit down.
She refused.
“I am perfectly capable of standing.”
“No one doubts your ability to remain upright,” Daniel said. “Your ability to tell the truth is the issue.”
Julian gave him a warning glance.
Daniel did not apologize.
They had returned to the drawing room.
Theo slept upstairs under police protection that Margaret would once have called absurd.
Now she had asked Harris to lock the east wing.
Arthur stood near the fireplace.
“My brother.”
Margaret stared at him.
“You misunderstood the letter.”
“Then explain it.”
She looked toward Martin.
The solicitor said nothing.
This was no longer his secret to disclose.
Margaret finally spoke.
“Edmund had another son.”
Caroline sank into a chair.
Felix whispered, “You have got to be joking.”
Julian almost laughed.
Three days earlier, the Ashford family tree had looked simple.
Now it resembled a crime scene.
Arthur’s voice was barely audible.
“Who?”
Margaret looked at him.
“Peter.”
Arthur frowned.
“I don’t know any Peter.”
“You do.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Margaret took a breath.
“Peter Harris.”
Everyone turned toward the doorway.
Harris stood there.
The butler did not move.
Julian stared.
“Harris?”
For the first time in Julian’s life, Harris looked uncertain.
He had worked at Ashford House for thirty-eight years.
He had taught Julian how to tie a proper bow tie before his first school dance.
He had sneaked biscuits to Caroline’s children.
He had buried three family dogs.
He had stood behind Margaret through funerals, weddings, and decades of Christmas dinners.
Arthur stared at him.
Harris looked back.
Then slowly removed his glasses.
“My full name is Peter Edmund Harris.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
Arthur whispered, “You knew.”
Peter nodded.
“How long?”
“Since I was nineteen.”
Arthur took one step toward him.
“How?”
“Sir Edmund told me.”
The room erupted.
Felix swore.
Caroline started crying.
Julian simply stared.
Peter held up one hand.
“My mother was Mary Harris. She worked here during the war.”
Margaret’s voice was sharp.
“You do not have to tell them everything.”
Peter looked at her.
“Yes, my lady. I do.”
It was the first time Julian had ever heard Harris refuse Margaret directly.
Peter turned to Arthur.
“Your father met my mother in 1946.”
Arthur’s face hardened.
“He was married to mine.”
“Yes.”
“And involved with Beatrice.”
“Yes.”
Peter looked ashamed though he had nothing to be ashamed of.
“My mother became pregnant. Edmund arranged for her to leave service and live with relatives. I was raised believing my father had died in the war.”
“When did you learn?”
“In 1965.”
“Before Edmund found me.”
“Yes.”
Arthur stared at him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know about you then.”
“When did you?”
“1971.”
The year Eleanor died.
Arthur’s breath caught.
Peter continued.
“Edmund came here after the cliff.”
Margaret whispered, “Peter.”
He looked at her.
“You have protected him long enough.”
Margaret flinched.
Julian stepped closer.
“What did Edmund confess?”
Peter looked at Arthur.
“He said he had met Eleanor on the cliffs.”
Arthur’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
“They argued.”
“What about?”
“The trust. You. Beatrice. Twenty-seven years of lies.”
Arthur gripped the back of a chair.
Peter continued carefully.
“Edmund said Eleanor told him she would expose everything. He begged her to wait because Beatrice was ill.”
Margaret stared at the floor.
“She refused.”
Arthur’s voice broke.
“As she should have.”
Peter nodded.
“Edmund followed her along the cliff path.”
Everyone held still.
“He said she slipped.”
Arthur shut his eyes.
“Did he push her?”
Peter’s face tightened.
“He said no.”
“That was not my question.”
“I was not there.”
“Did he say he touched her?”
Peter looked toward Margaret.
She whispered, “Don’t.”
Peter answered anyway.
“Yes.”
Arthur went still.
Peter continued.
“He said she turned away. He grabbed her arm. She pulled free. The ground at the edge gave way.”
Arthur’s face crumpled.
“So he caused it.”
“He believed he did.”
“Did he call for help?”
“Yes. Eventually.”
“Eventually?”
Peter looked sick.
“He climbed down part of the slope. He could not reach her. Then he panicked.”
Arthur stared.
“Panicked about her dying or about being caught?”
Peter did not answer.
That answer was enough.
Margaret stepped forward.
“He went for help.”
“After how long?” Arthur asked.
Margaret’s mouth opened.
Peter said, “Forty minutes.”
Arthur made a sound like someone had struck him.
Julian looked at Margaret.
“You knew this.”
“Yes.”
“Since when?”
“Since that night.”
Arthur turned on her.
“You knew my mother fell after struggling with Edmund, and you let me believe it was an accident?”
Margaret’s face broke.
“I was afraid.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I was twenty-five.”
“My mother was forty-nine and dead.”
Margaret wiped at her face.
“Edmund told me that if the scandal came out, Beatrice would die believing her whole marriage was false.”
“It was false.”
“I know.”
“No. You know now because it’s convenient to say it.”
Julian stepped between them again.
“This won’t help.”
Arthur looked at him.
“You have a child. Imagine someone stole his mother’s life from the record, then asked you to be calm.”
Julian looked toward the staircase.
Theo was upstairs.
The thought made his stomach turn.
Peter sat.
“There is more.”
No one wanted more.
Everyone listened.
“Edmund wrote a statement.”
Arthur whispered, “A confession.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I witnessed it.”
Martin leaned forward.
“Was it notarized?”
“No. But signed and witnessed.”
“By you?”
“Yes.”
Margaret said, “And me.”
Arthur looked at her.
Margaret nodded.
“Edmund admitted that he delayed calling for help. He admitted he concealed his first marriage. He revoked your renunciation.”
Julian asked, “All in one document?”
“Separate documents, signed the same night.”
Martin stood.
“If the revocation still exists, it could be decisive.”
Peter looked toward the chapel.
“It did exist.”
“Did you steal it?” Felix asked.
Peter’s expression hardened.
“No.”
“Who did?”
Peter looked at Margaret.
She shook her head.
“I didn’t.”
Caroline asked, “What about the confession?”
Peter answered.
“Edmund gave both documents to Nicholas.”
Julian felt the floor disappear beneath him.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“1987.”
Julian stared.
“Why?”
“Edmund was dying. He no longer trusted Margaret to release them.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
Julian could barely speak.
“My father had the revocation?”
Peter nodded.
“And the confession?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
Julian turned to Margaret.
“You told us the revocation was behind the memorial.”
“It was.”
“How?”
“Nicholas put it there.”
“When?”
“In 1992.”
Julian stared.
“You said Edmund put it there.”
Margaret looked ashamed.
“I lied.”
Daniel said, “At least she’s consistent.”
Julian gave him another look.
Margaret continued.
“Nicholas believed the documents should remain hidden unless Arthur ever returned to make a claim.”
Arthur laughed in disbelief.
“I was told to stay away.”
“Yes.”
“By whom?”
Margaret looked at Peter.
Peter answered.
“By Nicholas.”
Julian sat down hard.
His father had contacted Arthur.
His father had helped keep him away.
“What did he tell you?” Julian asked.
Arthur looked at him with pity.
“That the estate was unstable. That Beatrice was dying. That Margaret’s children knew nothing. He offered me money.”
Julian whispered, “Did you take it?”
“No.”
“Did you tell him about Helena?”
“No.”
Arthur looked toward Felix.
“I learned early that Ashfords treat descendants like liabilities.”
Julian could not argue.
Moore returned before sunset with news from Bath.
Helena’s intruder had entered without forcing the door.
No neighbor had seen a stranger.
The missing wooden box was the only item taken.
Peter listened, then asked a question.
“Was Helena’s copy of Edmund’s letter original?”
Arthur shook his head.
“No. The original is in my bank deposit box.”
Margaret looked up.
“So the thief got a copy.”
“Yes.”
“What exactly did it say?”
Arthur recited from memory.
If you need to know what happened to your mother, Peter heard my confession. I failed Eleanor twice—first by allowing my father’s deception, then by hesitating when she fell. I cannot ask forgiveness. I can only restore what I denied you.
The room was silent.
Detective Moore asked, “Who knew Helena kept that letter?”
Arthur thought.
“My wife did. She died seven years ago. Helena. Me.”
“Anyone else?”
He looked at Margaret.
“I mentioned it once in a letter.”
“When?”
“1993.”
“To whom?”
Arthur’s gaze moved to Nicholas’s portrait over the fireplace.
“Julian’s father.”
Julian stared at the painting.
His father’s role kept growing.
Moore asked Peter, “Did Nicholas have access to the chapel after 1992?”
“Yes.”
“Did anyone else know he put documents there?”
Peter looked at Margaret.
“Three people.”
“Name them.”
“Myself. Lady Margaret. Nicholas.”
“One is dead.”
“Yes.”
“And two are in this room.”
Margaret stiffened.
Moore turned to Peter.
“Did you remove the documents?”
“No.”
“To Lady Margaret?”
“No.”
Margaret glared.
“Then someone else learned.”
Julian suddenly remembered something.
“My father’s study.”
Everyone turned.
“After he died, Grandmother took his papers. But I kept one box.”
Margaret stared.
“You did?”
“It’s in London.”
“What kind of box?”
“Letters. Diaries. Personal things.”
Peter stood.
“Did it have a green leather notebook?”
Julian thought.
“Yes.”
Peter went pale.
“What?”
“That was Nicholas’s private record.”
Margaret whispered, “He kept a diary?”
Peter nodded.
“Not daily. Only when something important happened.”
Julian called his housekeeper in London.
The storage cupboard was checked.
The box was gone.
Daniel stood.
“When did you last see it?”
“Years ago.”
Margaret looked toward Felix.
He immediately raised his hands.
“Don’t.”
Caroline stared at her son.
“Felix.”
“I didn’t take Julian’s box.”
“But you have been in his London house.”
“So have you.”
A new silence formed.
Caroline’s face changed.
Julian looked at his aunt.
“When?”
She hesitated.
“After Nicholas died.”
“Why?”
“He asked me to collect something.”
“Who?”
“Your father.”
Julian’s voice dropped.
“My father was dead.”
Caroline shook her head.
“Before he died. He gave me instructions.”
“What instructions?”
She sat slowly.
“If anything happened to him, I was supposed to find the green notebook before Mother did.”
Margaret’s face drained.
“Caroline.”
Julian stared.
“Did you?”
“No. I couldn’t find it.”
“Did you know what was inside?”
“Only that Nicholas said it could destroy the family.”
Peter closed his eyes.
Daniel said, “That phrase has done a remarkable amount of work in this house.”
Caroline began to cry.
“I thought he meant an affair. Debt. Something private.”
Julian looked at Margaret.
She looked frightened again.
Not of scandal.
Of the notebook.
“What did my father write?” Julian asked.
Margaret said nothing.
Peter answered.
“Everything.”
Julian turned.
Peter continued.
“Nicholas discovered in 2007 that the Ashford trust had been altered after Edmund’s death.”
Martin stood abruptly.
“Altered how?”
Peter looked at Margaret.
She whispered, “Don’t.”
He ignored her.
“Someone replaced the succession schedule.”
Martin went pale.
“That would be fraud.”
“Yes.”
Julian looked at his grandmother.
“Who did it?”
Margaret’s voice broke.
“I don’t know.”
Peter said nothing.
Julian saw his face.
“You do.”
Peter looked at him.
“I know who Nicholas believed did it.”
“Who?”
Before Peter could answer, all the lights in Ashford House went out.
The room dropped into darkness.
Daniel swore.
Upstairs, Theo began to cry.
May you like
Julian ran.
A second later came the unmistakable sound of breaking glass.
