Nathaniel looked directly at her. "You."
The answer surprised her; it also pleased her, judging by the brief warmth that entered her expression. "Good night, Alex."
"Good night."
She left, carrying the folder of bridge documents. Nathaniel remained behind, watching rain streak across the windows. Something was wrong; he could feel it: missing records, defensive reactions, convenient interruptions—none of it proved anything, yet together they formed the outline of a mystery.
The following morning brought another clue—a small one, easy to overlook. Nathaniel was helping unload lumber near the carriage house when an elderly groundskeeper named Walter approached. The old man had worked at Carter Estate longer than almost anyone; his memory stretched back decades.
"You are the new fellow," Walter said. "Alex."
"That is right."
Walter nodded. "You spend time around Miss Carter."
Nathaniel shrugged. "Sometimes."
The old man looked around carefully before lowering his voice. "She still asks about the bridge."
Nathaniel's pulse quickened. "Occasionally."
Walter sighed heavily. "Just like her mother."
That immediately caught Nathaniel's attention. "Her mother?"
The old man realized his mistake too late. "Forget I said anything." He started to leave.
Nathaniel stepped forward. "Wait."
Walter stopped reluctantly. "What did you mean?"
The groundskeeper stared toward the distant fields. "Years ago, before the accident, Lady Carter asked questions, too."
Silence followed. "About what?"
Walter shook his head. "I do not know. But I remember this:" his weathered face tightened, "after she died, nobody mentioned those questions again."
Nathaniel felt a chill despite the warm morning air. "And the bridge?"
Walter looked away. "Some things are safer buried." Then he walked off without another word.
Nathaniel remained standing beside the lumber pile long after the conversation ended. For the first time, the mystery felt larger than missing paperwork, larger than a collapsed bridge, larger even than Genevieve realized. Somewhere inside Carter Estate, hidden beneath years of silence, lay a truth important enough that multiple people seemed determined to keep it buried. And the more Genevieve searched for answers, the more certain Nathaniel became that someone was watching every step she took.
The storm arrived faster than anyone expected. By late afternoon, dark clouds had swallowed the sky above Carter Estate. Wind bent the treetops; stable doors rattled. Workers hurried across the grounds, securing equipment before the worst of the weather arrived.