the order threatening her home. He did not ask her to forgive him. "I will suspend the proceedings while an independent inquiry is arranged," he said. "That is the least I can do."
"And what will you do if the inquiry says that your late father trusted the wrong man?" she demanded. Nathaniel held her gaze. "Then I will say so in public." It was an answer almost too simple to be believable. Helena wanted desperately to trust it, and she distrusted that desire even more. She thanked him without warmth and left the garden party before the final refreshments were served. As she passed the terrace gate, she heard a man's voice call her name. It was Lucian Bell. He stood several yards away, turning a folded handkerchief between his fingers. "Miss Vale," he said, "there are things you do not know about my father." She waited, but he merely shook his head. "I have done nothing brave in my life. I don't know where to begin." "Begin with one true sentence," Helena told him. She went home before he could reply.
That evening she found a note slipped beneath the cottage door. It had no signature and contained only eight words: Ask Mrs. Bramwell about the east-room inventory. Helena read it three times. Thomas suggested the message might be a trick to send her chasing ghosts. He was not wrong. Sir Edmund had every reason to lure her into an accusation she could not substantiate. But the reference was specific, and Mrs. Bramwell had already shown Helena more kindness than any official charged with dispensing it. At first light Helena returned to Larchmere, this time by the servants' entrance.
Mrs. Bramwell admitted her to the housekeeper's room and closed the door. She had heard about the scene on the terrace, of course. Every servant had. "Your father would have told you to keep your elbow down," she said, with the faintest smile. Helena laughed despite herself. Then she showed the note. The housekeeper's expression changed. The east room was a small former study where the old earl had stored account books and estate inventories. On the night of Jonathan's dismissal, several trunks had been moved out of it. Mrs. Bramwell had recorded the removals because it was her duty to know which servants were carrying valuable property. "I never thought my inventory was evidence," she admitted. "But I do remember a case being taken to Sir Edmund's carriage after midnight. The young Mr. Bell was with him."
They went together to the east room. Dust lay thick across the upper shelves, but the housekeeper's old inventory books were neatly kept in a cabinet. Helena found the relevant date after half an hour of searching. Against an entry for two deed boxes and