Chapter 5 - Daniel’s SmileFor several seconds, nobody moved.
The cabin was dark except for the red breath of the dying fire. Clara stood in the center of the room, one arm around Agnes, the other hand clutching her grandfather’s letter beneath her torn cloak.
Thomas Reed lifted the pistol.
Agnes shook her head once.
Too loud, and Daniel’s men would storm the cabin.
Too quiet, and Daniel would come inside smiling.
The handle turned.
The shovel across the door held.
Daniel laughed softly from the other side.
“You always did like dramatic pauses, Clara.”
Clara’s fingers tightened around the letter.
Thomas mouthed: cellar.
Agnes pointed with her chin toward the floorboards beneath the cot.
Clara shook her head.
She was tired of hiding.
Daniel knocked again.
“Open the door and we can talk like husband and wife.”
Clara’s voice came out colder than she felt. “Husbands don’t cut rescue ropes.”
Silence.
Then Daniel sighed.
“I told Mother you might have survived.”
Lady Vivian’s voice followed, sharper and closer than Clara expected.
“And I told my son sentiment makes men stupid.”
Thomas moved between Clara and the door.
Daniel said, “Mr. Reed, I assume that is you in there. You have involved yourself in a family matter.”
Thomas answered, “Murder is rarely a family matter.”
Vivian laughed. “What murder? A tragic carriage accident? A desperate maid too old to hold a rope? A pregnant woman lost to the ravine?”
Clara stepped toward the door. “I’m not lost.”
Daniel’s voice softened. “No. You are frightened. Hurt. Confused by servants who have filled your head with lies.”
Agnes spat blood into the fire. “Still better than the lies your mother fed you.”
The door shook.
One of Daniel’s men slammed into it.
Clara flinched. Pain tightened across her belly again, sharper this time.
Thomas saw her face. “We need to leave now.”
“There is nowhere to go,” she whispered.
Agnes grabbed the trunk and pulled out the old Whitmore signet ring. She pressed it into Clara’s palm.
“Put it on.”
“Why?”
“Because when you walk into a room wearing that, every honest man who served your grandfather will know who you are.”
The door shook again.
Wood split.
Thomas kicked aside the rug and lifted the hidden cellar hatch.
Cold earth smell rose from below.
Clara helped Agnes down first, then climbed after her. Thomas lowered the hatch just as the door burst open.
Daniel entered with a lantern in one hand and a pistol in the other.
From beneath the floor, Clara could see through a narrow gap between boards.
Daniel’s boots stopped inches from her face.
Vivian swept in behind him, her skirt dragging mud across the floor.
“Where are they?” she demanded.
Daniel looked around slowly. “They were here.”
One of the men found the wet shawl.
Another found blood.
Vivian’s face hardened. “Then they cannot be far.”
Daniel stepped toward the cot.
Clara held her breath.
His boot touched the edge of the hidden hatch.
Agnes silently covered Clara’s mouth, not to silence fear—but because another contraction had seized her.
Clara’s eyes watered from the pain.
Daniel crouched.
His fingers brushed the rug.
Then, from outside, a man shouted, “Sir! Tracks by the river!”
Daniel stood.
Vivian snapped, “Go.”
Daniel hesitated, staring once more at the floor.
For one impossible second, Clara thought he knew.
Then he turned away.
The cabin emptied.
Clara waited until the horses faded.
Only then did she release a breath.
But Agnes did not look relieved.
She looked terrified.
“What?” Clara whispered.
The old maid placed a hand on Clara’s belly.
The contraction came again.
Longer.
Lower.
May you like
Agnes’s eyes filled.
“My dear,” she said, “the baby is coming.”
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