“In a manner of speaking,” Marceau bristled. “I am a professional. I seek truth where the evidence leads.”

“Of course. We never believed anything different, Monsieur,” Remi added, touching a hand to Ben’s back to steady him. He seemed genuinely astounded by the truth.

“Ah, well, since we are on the matter of your father,” the inspector said, turning to Ben, “I nearly forgot. I found a letter addressed to you. It was taken from the maid’s personal effects—among the other stolen trinkets. I thought it might be important.”

From his pocket, Marceau produced a crinkled envelope. She had never seen it before, but the presentation widened Ben’s eyes with recognition. He surged forward and took it from Marceau’s proffered hands. He turned it thrice before folding it up and tucking it away inside his breast pocket.

“It is. Important, I mean,” Ben said. “Thank you, Monsieur.”

“I’ll be off then.” Marceau nodded his reply and then uttered a short farewell. Ben and Remi waited in the foyer to see him off. When he was gone, they called for Martin to bring their own carriage around. Beline and Guillaume would be waiting on them, and Remi did not want to keep them. Jacques brought it around a few moments later.

“I like him,” Ben said as they settled onto the benches inside the cab. “Inspector Marceau, I mean.”

Remi agreed. “Yes, he’s very kind. I like his mustache.”

“Does that mean I should grow one?” Ben chuckled.

“Not until you’re very old,” she said, taking his hands. The carriage was a decent size, but Ben’s height and frame took up a majority of it. She hardly minded. Being trapped between Ben and a hard spot had become a favorite position.

He smirked. “I’ve heard that a mustache is an altogether different experience for women.”

“I love you just as you are.” Despite herself, she blushed at the insinuation. It was difficult enough to keep her hands to herself during the day, which said nothing for her restraint at night. She could only imagine what a mustache would do to her poor nerves.

Ben smiled knowingly, and, to tease her, licked his lips. He laughed when she turned her face to her hands. They should have disguised their affections better and waited until the worst of it had been dealt with. They’d tried—sleeping in different rooms the first night had done little to quell their desires. It was Remi who had gone to Ben first, and she’d made her stay permanent—every morning, and every night since.

“I could kiss you,” he said, reaching for her.

“Then kiss me.”

It was simple and sweet—a gentle peck, a brush of his thumb along her chin to her cheek. They arrived at the docks shortly after, joining Guillaume and Beline inside the inn where they’d been staying. Neither of them appeared better than before, but it was to be expected. Beline had been struck by their losses, consumed by the death of her daughter and the impending hanging that waited for Arnaud. She was pale and out of sorts, but Guillaume ensured she had strength for the voyage.

He’d been a pillar for her to lean on as she grieved.

“You will write, won’t you?” Remi asked Guillaume.

“Of course.” He had secured himself a job with a tailor in a small town, allocating and purchasing fabrics, and eventually working his way up to an apprenticeship. But first, he would take Beline to her sister’s home in the countryside. No one could blame her for wanting to leave, especially after her husband murdered their child.

“Take care of Elise,” Remi said, embracing him.

She heard him stifle a sob as he said, “You know I will.”

“Safe travels.” Ben said, shaking his hand.

Guillaume returned the gesture with fervor and a slight smile. “Take care of Remi and keep her out of trouble. Madame Leone attracts it wherever she goes.”

Remi felt a blush creep across her cheeks, startling when she felt Ben’s hand brush languidly along the length of her back. Her ankle throbbed with the rest of her. Thankfully, Beline interrupted as she took Remi’s hands in her own.

“Will you walk with me to the boat?” she asked. “Elise is waiting.”

Remi obliged her and tucked her aunt’s arm into her own. They quietly beheld each other for the last time, their steps in sync as they walked along the dock. It would be difficult for her aunt, but the trip would be worthwhile. Staying would only further break her heart.

At least she has Guillaume, Remi thought as they boarded. Elise’s coffin had not yet been brought to the lower deck, so she did not have to go far to seek out her cousin. Beline melted into tears at the sight of it and excused herself to the boat’s small cabin. Remi sympathized. Her own tears were impossible to hold back; they fell down her cheeks, staining the fresh wood.

“I only hope you know how much I loved you,” she told her cousin’s coffin.

“I have no doubt that she did.” Ben stood beside her, his presence comforting.

Remi looked into his dark eyes and wiped at her cheeks. In a hushed tone, she said quietly, “She was there that night. In the cemetery.”

“You said as much, though I recall my father and Leith were present as well.” He remembered her words as they walked through the tunnel. Perhaps she’d been half-asleep when she spoke, not that he could blame her. Running away from a madman intent on killing her would have been tiring, if not altogether terrifying.

“They were.” Remi bobbed her head. “How curious that they were all there when I needed them.”

“Perhaps they knew you were in trouble.”

“I think so.” Remi leaned into his side and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Your father’s fascination with moths helped a little, too. Though I could have done without his cryptic messages.”

“Moths, you say?” Ben asked curiously. He recalled the display, toppled over on the floor where it once stood above the tunnel’s entrance. “Is that how you found the trap door?”

“Partly,” she admitted. “But it was your ancestors and those papers you had that brought me there. You teased about tunnels, and as it happens, you were right.”

“Of course I was.” Ben teased.

“There was a floor plan from the 1600s included in the documents.” Remi nodded. “Arthur had built an extra room—the tunnel beneath the study.”

“Mystery solved.”

“Elise would have been thrilled.” Remi smiled to herself, though the sadness that followed was painful to bear. With a few mournful tears, they parted from Elise’s coffin as it was moved below. Remi embraced Guillaume and Beline one last time, and then she and Ben waved them off from the docks.

They withdrew to the carriage once again, followed by the somber emptiness that buried itself in Remi’s heart.

Her family had been torn apart again.

“We can help them,” Ben said to break the silence, “now that the family’s fortune has been found.”

When the carriage rolled into the cemetery and drifted past headstones, crawling back toward the Leone mausoleum, Remi found herself seated on the edge. It cheered her a little to know that a small part of Ben’s family had been recovered. Passing through the tunnel in the dead of night would be different in the daylight, and she was eager to see it all with fresh eyes.

BEN

Ben studied the portraits and the sculptures as they were carried out of the passage through the mausoleum floor. It still astounded him that there was a moving contraption below, but he enjoyed the cleverness nonetheless. His sister would have found it amusing, too.

“The real work,” Jacques grunted, hauling a large crate of silver goblets, “will be finding a way to get rid of all this junk.”

“Junk?” Remi chirped, unveiling herself from behind a portrait resting against another pile of crates and chests. “It’s all treasure.”

“Of course it is.” Jacques set the crate down, wincing at the sound of his back cracking.

It was the three of them, plus Paul and Martin, left to clean out the valuables. The latter had left with the carriage, hauling a second round of portraits and other odds and ends. It was too much of a task to take them through the tunnel and up the ladder into the study. Besides that, there was no light to guide them. It did work out, though. Martin would be bringing them lunch upon his return, and Ben was grateful for it.