"Well, well," she whispered. "Now I have you."
The Duke left Ravenshire Hall at dawn. Clara saw it from the attic window; she had not slept all night, sitting on the edge of her bed with the old Duke's leather diary in her lap when she heard wheels on the gravel below. She looked out and saw his black carriage rolling away down the long drive through the morning mist, toward the London road.
"Urgent business in town," Betsy announced at breakfast, full of gossip as always. "That's what Mr. Grant, the butler, says. Left without even saying goodbye to her ladyship. And with the ball only three days off!" She giggled. "Lady Cecilia was in a proper temper about it, I heard."
Clara said nothing; she only stared into her cup of tea. He had left. The night after he found her in his father's study, he had left the house without a word. Was he running from her, or toward something? There was no way to know. And now there was no one in this house who could protect her.
She had hidden the diary inside her mattress in the same place where she had always kept her father's letter. But the letter she no longer left anywhere: since last night, she had sewn it into a small pocket inside her dress, close to her heart. Whatever happened, that letter would stay with her.
And then she went to work as if it were any other day: she polished banisters, carried linen, and kept her head down. She looked for the dark blue ribbon in every corridor she passed; it was nowhere.
At 4:00 that afternoon, a scream rang out through the house. It came from Lady Cecilia's rooms: doors banged, footsteps ran, and within ten minutes, every servant had been called once again to the great hall.
They stood in their two long lines, just as they had on the night of the scissors. But this time, the Dowager Duchess was there, too. She was a tall, thin woman with silver hair and a face like carved stone. She stood at the foot of the grand staircase with her hands folded, and when she spoke, her voice was like ice.
"A bracelet has been stolen," she said. "A diamond bracelet. It has belonged to the Duchesses of Ravenshire for two hundred years. I gave it to Lady Cecilia myself as an engagement gift. This morning it was in her jewel box; now, it is gone."
A frightened murmur went through the lines.
"Nobody will leave this hall," the Dowager went on, "until every room in this house has been searched."
Lady Cecilia stood beside her, dabbing her eyes with a lace handkerchief, looking pale, tragic, and very beautiful. Behind her, Hannah stood with her head bowed so low that Clara could not see her face at all. Clara felt a cold, sick feeling growing in her stomach.