Ben opened another and read:

Soleil,

Would that I could sing your name, proclaim to all that my love for you is as true as the ocean is blue. You are beauty defined, my dearest heart. Meet me tomorrow, a quarter after midnight. Let me praise your youth, let me show you how I have longed for you these last three days. I am a man starved of your affections and I crave you. I can only dream of the day when you have saved enough for us to escape—to elope and be together. Finally.

Yours,

Arnaud

Ben’s heart sat in his throat. It was true then; his sister had been involved with Arnaud and none of them had known about it. Only, his father might have known, but it would be the last secret he took with him to the grave. He picked up another letter, shocked to see Arnaud’s name on the post rather than Soleil’s. He pulled out the letter addressed to Remi’s uncle and swallowed.

“This one was from Soleil.” He held it up.

“Read it,” Remi said. Her patience, it seemed, was endless and he expected that she would sit with him all night if he asked her to.

Arnaud,

My heart is broken. You have left me in pieces, and I cannot keep from crying. Where did I go wrong? Did I ask too much of you? I only want to be with you. Please, please meet me at our spot. I will find more money if it means that you will be with me. Please, let me fix what I have broken.

Forever yours,

Soleil

At the bottom, a note had been scrawled in the corner: No.

Ben knew that it had been Arnaud, that he had returned her note without a second thought. He’d written her love letters, which she’d returned in kind, but when he’d broken her, he had left her with one word. It must have been after his final letter that he pushed her—after she threatened to tell Beline of his infidelity. Ben set the letters down at his feet, tucking his face into his hands. He ached for Soleil.

Remi’s light fingers grazed the back of his neck as she drew him closer. She said nothing, only soothed him with mild hushes as her hands brushed back his dark hair. For a while, it seemed that all had gone still, that the night had stopped moving and they were stuck in the dark. But someone said their names, and Guillaume found them embracing on Soleil’s bed.

“They found him,” he said. “They found Arnaud.”

“Alive?” Remi asked.

Guillaume grimaced. “Yes.”

ARNAUD & HUGO

REMI

They would not be allowed to see him.

Remi was relieved, yet disappointed. After her uncle had been found in the cemetery, crawling on his belly in the mud like a wounded animal, he’d been locked up immediately. When asked about Hugo, Arnaud had given up the location of the abandoned house with little fight. As it turned out, the little house was the old groundskeeper’s residence. It was left abandoned for a few years or more, making it the perfect location for Arnaud to hide. Giving it up was easy enough. If he was to suffer, then so would Hugo. He was discovered an hour or so later, nursing a broken arm and a sliced thigh. The altercation that Remi had used to escape was much worse than she’d imagined.

Inspector Marceau detained both men and was able to prove their guilt. There was no loyalty left among murderers, and for their crimes, they would hang.

“It was open and shut, as they say,” Inspector Marceau said when he delivered a report to the manor a few days later.

The three of them—Remi, Ben, and the inspector—sat together in the parlor.

Remi eyed the documents carefully while Ben and Marceau discussed the next steps. She could see that the report detailed everything: Remi’s arranged marriage, the contract signed between Arnaud and Edgar, the proof of the stolen wine and its canceled purchase, and the men’s confessions. Hugo had killed Leith in a fit of jealousy and rage and had admitted paying Sylvie to deliver his notes in secret without Remi ever knowing. Sylvie had paid a steep price for her own misdeeds; it was hard for Remi to feel anger towards the young girl.

“Your uncle fought, but once he discovered that we had wired his brother for the details of their agreement, he was willing to oblige.”

Ben asked, “What did his brother have to say?”

“Only that Arnaud had been on the verge of insanity,” Marceau demonstrated his exasperation with a grunt as he leaned back in his chair. “He claimed that Arnaud planned to murder Edgar Leone from the very beginning, even after their business concluded. Per your request, I asked after your sister—he claimed to know nothing of her passing, though tragic it must have been. Also, he said that Arnaud had promised to share whatever inheritance with him once the deed was done. Though I understand now that there was no true inheritance to be had, correct?”

“Correct,” Ben said. “Just the land and this manor that has been in the family for generations.”

“I see.” Marceau closed his eyes for a short moment.

Remi had not thought much about the man at their first meeting, but he’d grown on her. “Monsieur,” she said hesitantly. “Did my father make any mention of me?”

Marceau appeared thoughtful. “He only asked if you were well.”

“Ah.”

“I told him that you were in high spirits.”

Remi thought it might help to know how her father felt if her brush with death had changed him—but she’d been wrong. Ben’s hand fell to Remi’s shoulder and he gave it a comforting squeeze.

“Will you be accompanying us to the docks?” Remi asked Marceau.

Beline and Guillaume had made plans to travel to the countryside immediately after Arnaud was detained. It would be a comfort for Beline to be with her extended family, and they would hopefully receive word beforehand, but they were leaving the Isle. With Elise’s body preserved in a coffin, they planned to bury her far away from the Bleue. Ben and Remi had agreed to meet them, hoping to see Elise off with a final farewell.

“No, no. I would hate to intrude.” Marceau hopped to his feet and Remi handed him the report. “Thank you for having me. A moment’s respite from the darkness these last few days has done some good for my soul. It warms me to no end that you are alive, Madame Leone.”

“Thank you,” she said.

Marceau turned his sharp eyes to Ben. “Please accept my deepest apologies. I am happy to know you are innocent in all of this, though I would advise caution in the future. Disturbing a grave is a serious offense.”

“As you’ve already said.” Ben glowered.

“But I convinced my superiors that it was sanctioned,” Marceau added, “if only to prove that the victim’s deaths were indeed misinterpreted.”

“That’s kind of you.”

The inspector crinkled his mustache and cleared his throat in reply. “Yes, well, I expect it’s what your father would have said, were he here. He only ever had good things to say about his son, the doctor.”

Remi watched Ben’s eyes widen.

“Did you…did you know my father?”

“Please accept my apologies.” Marceau bowed his head. “I could not risk anyone knowing the nature of my relationship with your family. In truth, I came here seeking answers myself. Your father and I had been writing to one another for more than a decade, off and on, about your family and its misfortunes. It started with your sister, in fact. He knew of me from the papers. I was shocked to learn that the Parisian news reached the Isle. I stopped receiving regular missives a few months ago, with the last being a wedding invitation.

“It was my intention to visit him after his wedding, but my timing could not have been worse. I arrived only a day before his death. I feel fortunate that I was in the right place at the right time to offer my services. Your father was owed as much justice as anyone: more so, as it turns out. I only wish I’d followed through sooner.”

“I can hardly believe it,” Ben said, stunned. “Is that why you were so willing to believe me?”