Was that why you wanted the gold? Ben approached the window and looked out toward the moors. How many times before had she done the same? Longing for something, for someone. He wondered if she lingered still, her spirit locked up with the dust in a room their home had forgotten. Ben blinked; he swore he could see her there on the moors, standing at the cliff’s edge with the wind whipping at her hair. When she looked back, the faceless woman from the night before found him watching from the window.
Ben blinked the vision away, petrified by his own fear and confusion.
Soleil might have shown him a part of the truth, but it did not quiet the scratching at the back of his mind. There was more to her death: he knew it, and the answers were somewhere in her long-forgotten room.
GOLD
REMI
Remi returned to her room after her evening bath, the afternoon having sailed by without further disturbance. Truthfully, she’d experienced enough melodrama for one day and was tired of it before supper. Passing on the simple stew Martin had prepared, she retired to her room and found solace in the quiet of the empty washroom. Exhaustion wore on her like one of Tante Beline’s drab hand-me-down dresses, thick and uncomfortable as it pinched every part of her body.
Too much of her time was spent worrying over everyone else lately.
“I can feel it in my bones,” she said aloud, stretching her arms above her head. The room echoed with the gentle lapping of the bathwater against the tub.
Soon enough, if all went according to Hugo’s design, Elise and her affair would be one less concern. Their marriage would end it and lift the weight from Remi’s chest. Elise was the closest she had to a sister and the only person who stood between her and Beline. Elise would be well and truly gone after her wedding, and Remi would again be alone.
We’ll have to make up, she thought, her heart too heavy to consider the alternative.
Remi abandoned the lukewarm bath water and dried herself off. Once in her nightgown and robe, she padded silently back to her room. Inside, she went to her dressing table and sat for a long moment, staring at the sheet covering the mirror. She didn’t remember placing it there, but Tante Beline had been insistent about the tradition. Doubtless she was the culprit. Remi frowned and pulled it away.
The dead be damned, Remi thought, finding her pale reflection in the mirror. She desperately needed a good night’s sleep.
Remi turned and pulled open the side drawer to fetch her brush. There was an empty space where she’d last placed the box that held her locket. There was nowhere else it could be. Her blood ran cold.
“My locket.” Remi dove into the drawer, forgetting all logic.
Did Sylvie steal it? It was a terrible thought, one that she regretted immediately.
Remi abandoned the vanity and rushed to the bedside table. She pulled open the drawer and rifled through the small trinkets within, her frustration rising with each discarded bauble. The note was there, on the very top, right where she’d left it after lunch. But the locket was nowhere to be found amongst the junk.
“Where did it go?”
“Where did what go, Madame?” Sylvie’s voice was like a little bell.
Remi straightened and breathed deeply. When had she come in? Why didn’t Remi hear a knock? Her ears were ringing from panic.
“My locket is missing.”
Sylvie made no reply.
“Don’t you remember? It was Edgar’s wedding gift to me,” Remi said, her eyes falling on the young woman at the door. She had a tray in her hand; it shook slightly in her grip.
“Do you know where it is?” Remi asked.
“No, madame.”
A tense beat passed between them, and Remi straightened, leveling her gaze at the maid. She almost looked ill.
“Did you take it, Sylvie?” Remi attempted to keep her voice even.
Her maid’s grip on the tray tightened into a white-knuckled grip. “No, of course not, Madame! I would never!”
Remi’s building anger wavered.
“I promise.” Sylvie’s eyes teared up as the china on the tray shook.
It was a harsh and damaging accusation, Remi knew. Maids could be let go for far less. She had no proof to say otherwise, and Sylvie was usually quite honest. With a deep breath, she relaxed her shoulders.
“I don’t mean to accuse you of anything, truly.” Remi sighed. “Perhaps I misplaced it.”
“I will help you look,” Sylvie offered quickly.
“Not tonight.” Remi took the tray from Sylvie’s shaking hands, grateful for the fresh scent of honey and lemon wafting from the cup. Tea would be just what she needed to lull her into some semblance of sleep. “It’s far too late to search this place now, and I’m quite tired.”
“Of course,” Sylvie murmured. “I understand.”
“Goodnight, then,” Remi said, nodding toward the door. “Thank you for the tea.”
Sylvie brightened at her gratitude. “It was no trouble, Madame. Pleasant dreams.” She hurried off, shutting the door behind her with a soft click.
Remi sat down on the bed with the tray in her lap. For a moment, she contemplated the locket’s disappearance and the note that had been left for her. Could they be connected? Remi stifled a shiver as she picked up the teacup and sipped at the tea. It was still hot enough to warm her cold fingers and cheeks.
Leaving the tray on her vanity, Remi pulled back the duvet and crawled into bed. The moment her head hit the pillow, she should have been asleep, but something sharp and hard connected with the back of her head. She jumped and tore the pillow away.
Beneath it was a square box, the same one that had held her locket. She did not hesitate to reach for it but stopped short of opening the lid. There was no reason why it should be hidden and stranger still to be tucked under a pillow. Remi sucked in a deep breath as she finally opened the lid. Her locket was gone; in its place were a few words scrawled on a ripped piece of parchment.
Let me have it, my love...let me have your heart.
