The floor was slippery in spots, but they made their way around the corner. They must have just cleaned the floors before they arrived. She stepped across the polished marble, searching for the source of the shadows.
Spotting an intricate candelabra, she sighed, feeling foolish. The candelabra was oddly shaped and must have cast a strange shadow that looked almost like a person from where she had been standing. She was being paranoid.
She brought a hand to her chest and looked at the servant apologetically. “Sorry, my mistake. I was sure I saw a shadow move,” she said, looking down. “I was sure it was them. Just hiding. You know?”
The look she received was so pitiful it hurt her heart.
“Lady Elizabeth … I am to bring you to Harrison Manor after you’ve paid your respects,” the manservant said hesitantly.
She had to try to speak twice before any sound came out of her lips.
“How?” Her voice was choked, clipped.
He hesitated. It had to be bad if he hesitated. “Do you really want to know?”
“I think I have to.”
The manservant sighed. “Come with me.”
He led her to the gardens, to the far corner of her family’s fields—where her grandparents were buried. A tombstone was set in a fresh mound of dirt, darker than the rest of the soil. It read:
Here lie Lord William Ashcroft and his beloved wife, Lady Catlyn Ashcroft.
Lord, Husband, Father, Friend.
Respected and beloved.
Her eyes burned.
“How?”
The servant looked at her with so much kindness in his face, so much sympathy, that she hated him for it. “There were signs of a struggle. They were found in the living room, your father with his chest stabbed, and your mother with her throat cut.”
“Oh.” Her heart plummeted. That would have been difficult to fake.
Her last hope crumbled to dust.
“But why? Who? They had no enemies,” she asked, almost pleadingly.
“Several of your parents’ guards and servants were found slain in the manor and on the grounds. Any survivors who lived, are the ones who ran to get help. No one has been able to identify the intruders or give them a name. And any who saw them are—no longer with us to tell the tale.”
She pressed her lips together and stared at the graves of her parents.
It all felt surreal, like she was about to wake up at any moment and find out it had all been a bad dream.
“Please send word to Charlotte that I would like to stay longer. Thank you for bringing me here and for explaining. Your presence is no longer required.”
“Lady Elizabeth, Lady Charlotte said I was to stay with you. She was to arrive in Briarton sometime today to meet you and bring you back to Harrison Manor.”
“Then please go to Briarton and tell Lady Charlotte I will see her tomorrow.”
The manservant looked at her, his brows raised in displeasure, but hesitant to argue with a noble.
“By all means, check the house before you leave and lock the doors when you go.”
“Lady—”
She looked forward, her eyes on the grave, every word a labour to get out.
