“She didn’t ask for anything. She only wanted to be heard,” Georgina said softly. “Her husband had come home shaken. He told her there’d been talk about deliveries gone missing, men being warned to keep quiet.”
She hesitated, her voice gentling. “She didn’t even sit. Just stood in the hallway, wringing her hands in her apron. I offered tea, but she refused. Said she couldn’t stay long. Her little boy was waiting just outside the gate.”
Barrington’s expression darkened.
“She said her husband wouldn’t speak of it again. Not even to her. Said he didn’t want trouble. He said that he’d already seen what happened to others who asked questions, but she did mention that the man watched their house for days afterwards. I told her that she would be protected.
“She didn’t give her name at first. She just said her husband was stationed at the southern shaft. But I recognized her. Mrs. Kellett. Her boy attends the Sunday lessons. She’s a quiet woman, and always the last to leave.”
Georgina drew in a breath and looked between the three of them. “This isn’t just about money or records. It’s pressure. It’s fear.Someone is making sure the truth stays buried by any means.”
“It’s too organized,” Barrington said, jaw set. “Too methodical. Too Order-like. It confirms my fears that the subversion extends beyond management and into the workers and their families.”
He moved toward the hearth, resting one hand on the mantel as if grounding himself. “You’ve heard me mention them before, the Order of Shadows. A name that sounds like superstition to some, but make no mistake. They’re real. A network buried deep in the corners of government, trade, and industry. They don’t seek attention. They seek control.”
He turned to face them, his expression sharp. “This mine, our region’s entire coal supply, isn’t just valuable. It’s strategic. Whoever controls it controls transport. Commerce. Power. And if the Order wants that control, they won’t stop at forgeries and whispers. They’ll bury anyone who gets in their way.”
Georgina exhaled slowly. The weight of the woman’s trust settled heavily on her shoulders. She had given her word that Mrs. Kellett would be protected. But how? Against whom? Her promise had been instinctive, but now it felt perilous. Truth was a fragile shield when power hid in shadows.
“You may be correct.” Alex moved to the edge of his chair. “We need to plan our next steps. We revisit Trentham & Clegg and look further. Whoever forged that invoice used their name for a reason. I want to know if it’s happened elsewhere.”
Barrington crossed to the sideboard and unrolled a worn map of the region. “We’ll start with Carver again. I want a second conversation, one where we don’t let him set the tone. If he’s hiding something, it ends now.”
Georgina leaned in beside them. “And the mine ledgers. We need to see how much damage has already been done.”
Alex glanced toward her, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. She’d stepped into this fully, not with hesitation, but with clarity.
“Are you with us?” he asked quietly.
She met his gaze without flinching. “Reporting for duty.”
The corner of his mouth lifted, not a smile, not entirely, but enough to tell her he’d heard more in those words than agreement. For once, she didn’t look away.
It wasn’t said lightly. Those three words held the weight of her name, her grief, and her choice to stand beside them. She had crossed an invisible line. She was no longer a widow sorting papers, but a woman stepping into the heart of something larger, more dangerous, and far more personal than she’d ever anticipated.
Alex held her gaze for a beat longer. Then he nodded, once, short and sure. Not as a commander giving orders, but as a man recognizing a comrade.
They weren’t soldiers. Not really. But at that moment, they might as well have been.
A rustle at the doorway broke the moment. Kenworth stepped in again, this time without a tray.
“Apologies, sir,” he said quietly. “This was found by the side entrance. No one saw who left it.”
He held out a plain envelope. No seal. No name.
Alex opened the envelope and found a single sheet of folded paper. He unfolded it.
The ink was smudged, the message brief. The paper was coarse, folded twice, and still damp at the edges as if it had traveled far through rain or sweat.
Some things buried are best left that way.
No signature. No threat. And yet the air shifted, colder than before.
Georgina stepped closer, reading the words over Alex’s shoulder. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to.
They’d been noticed.
Chapter Sixteen
