He certainly wasn’t expecting to find the Cavesee Vase in shards on the floor. It seemed with each hour a level of complexity was added to his stay at Cloverton Hall that challenged everything he thought he knew to be true.
***
Staccato pounding jarred Olivia from sleep.
“Open this door!”
The pounding was not at her door but just outside it. And it did not stop.
Each thud sharpened her senses further, and she jumped from bed. In the purple light of very early dawn, she found her wrapper, flung it about her shoulders, and hurried to pull open her door.
Mr.Wainbridge, wild and frantic, stood in the corridor, hammering his fist against Mrs.Milton’s bedchamber door.
“Mr.Wainbridge.” She clutched her wrapper around her. “Is everything all right?”
He whirled to face her, red-faced. “You! I—”
Mrs. Milton’s door swung open, and he spun back around.
“George!” Outrage colored Mrs.Milton’s shocked expression. “What on earth are you doing? Are you aware of the hour?”
“The Cavesee Vase. It’s destroyed!”
Mrs.Milton’s complexion blanched. “What?”
Mr.Wainbridge spun to face Olivia. “I know who you are. I know who your father was. And I know you’re connected with this. How dare you step foot in this house without disclosing the truth!”
Olivia winced. “Sir, I’m not—”
Mrs.Milton pushed past Mr.Wainbridge and rushed down the first floor’s long corridor to the gallery entrance. Her hands flew to her mouth. She screamed.
Olivia followed and stopped short and gasped at the horrific sight.
Sobs burst from Mrs.Milton.
Guests, no doubt awoken by the shouts and cries, were gathering in the corridor, still dressed in their nightclothes.
Olivia hurried over and wrapped her arm around Mrs.Milton’s shoulder. “Come away, Mrs.Milton, this—”
“And you!” Mr.Wainbridge’s attention suddenly shifted to her.
Olivia straightened.
“I know you’re involved with this.”
The accusation stung. She shook her head. “I wasn’t.”
Mr.Wainbridge stepped dangerously close. “You will leave Cloverton Hall.”
“George,” protested Mrs.Milton. “She ismyguest, and I absolutely forbid—”
“Enough!” He turned the full brunt of his ire on the older woman. “You’re no longer the person to decide who is and who is not welcome on this property.I am.And I want her gone.”
Mrs.Milton’s expression shifted as if she’d been slapped. For the first time she did not have a response. She looked fragile. Broken.
Mr.Wainbridge stomped down the corridor before any other words could be spoken.
The stares from the guests bored into her: Mr.Fielding. MissStanley. MissHaven.
