Chapter 219: The Secret Behind The Mask(2)
The three women slipped quietly through the corridors, their footsteps barely making a sound against the stone floor. Though the hallway was deserted, a prickle of unease lingered between them. In this house, emptiness never guaranteed privacy, especially not now, since the Dowager’s sharp eyes and sharper schemes might be lurking in every corner.
Lorraine didn’t dare return to her own chambers; Leroy was still there, and she wasn’t ready to explain why she needed to whisper secrets with her maids. Especially when it involved him.
And so, they went to the one place she was certain no prying ears would be hiding—the chamber belonging to the one who held as many, if not more, secrets than she did. Aldric’s room. A fortress in itself.
The moment they stepped inside, Lorraine let out a long, exasperated sigh at the sight before her.
"Why," she muttered under her breath, "do men insist on keeping their studies in such dreadful disarray?"
Papers were stacked precariously on every available surface; scrolls lay half-unrolled, books opened spine-up on the floor as if they’d been abandoned mid-thought. A chair was toppled against the wall, and the hearth held more dusty maps than firewood.
Her husband’s study wasn’t much better, truth be told.
Sylvia gave a small, knowing laugh. "He never allowed the maids in here to clean."
"And now we know why," Lorraine replied dryly.
She had always respected Aldric. As her husband’s mentor and most loyal confidant, his eccentric habits were none of her concern. She’d only recently begun to understand the depth of his loyalty, the quiet, unseen work he had done for years to shield her and their household.
It explained some of the chaos, though she doubted even the most urgent plots required this level of disorder.
Sylvia’s eyes softened as she looked around, her smile tinged with quiet pride. "I’ll help him set it to rights," she said.
He wouldn’t let ordinary servants cross this threshold. But she could. The realization sent a warm flutter through her chest.
He had let her into his private world.
Lorraine caught the thought behind that smile immediately. She’d seen that look before, she had felt that feeling before: the unguarded glow of someone who’d been welcomed into the heart of another’s life.
It was a rare thing, that kind of belonging. To be trusted, to be included, not merely as a guest, but as part of their world.
No language had a word that truly captured it. It was joy, pride, safety, and love tangled into one breathtaking sensation. The happiest feeling in the world.
Sylvia guided Lorraine and Emma to a corner where two sturdy chairs stood beside a low table, their edges cluttered with maps and ink-stained quills. Emma sat down hesitantly, her fingers knotting and unknotting in the fabric of her skirt. Her anxious fidgeting betrayed the weight of the secret she carried, like a bird trembling against a too-small cage, unsure whether flight was permitted.
Lorraine settled beside her and reached out, gently taking Emma’s cold hands in hers. Emma lifted her gaze timidly. Lorraine’s steady, warm, and utterly patient eyes met Emma’s. There was no pressure in her look, only quiet understanding and trust. She gave Emma’s hand a small, reassuring squeeze, and the corners of her lips softened into a smile that seemed to say you’re safe here, little one.
Emma’s breath shuddered out. At last, a tentative smile blossomed on her face, fragile but real. Her shoulders relaxed for the first time that night.
"My uncle," she began, her voice trembling, "one I was very close to and loved dearly... he worked as an apprentice scribe in the Royal Archives, the one where the royal family’s chronicles are kept."
She glanced at Lorraine again, searching for courage. Lorraine squeezed her hand once more, silently urging her on.
"He discovered something when he was working there?" Lorraine prompted gently.
Emma nodded. "He was tasked with copying some records... records of the—"
A low rumble cut through the stillness.
All three froze.
Lorraine’s hand tightened around Emma’s instinctively, signaling her to stop. Sylvia straightened at once, every sense sharpened. She brought a finger to her lips, her expression shifting from warmth to alert vigilance.
The sound came again, closer this time. A subtle, scraping rumble beneath the floorboards.
Lorraine rose silently and moved toward the sound, the candleholder steady in her grasp. She remembered: there was a hidden tunnel entrance in this room, connected to the old underground passages of the estate. Few knew of its existence. Aldric was one of them.
Sylvia wordlessly snatched up the poker from beside the hearth, gripping it like a spear. Her body shifted in front of Lorraine’s, shielding her without a second thought.
Emma, though frightened, stood as well. Her hands trembled, but when the noise grew louder, she moved beside Sylvia, her small frame braced with surprising courage.
With a muted thud, the trapdoor beneath the carpeted corner lifted, sending a few books toppling from their precarious stacks. A tousled head emerged slowly from the darkness.
The women tightened their grips on their makeshift weapons, bracing themselves.
"Aldric!" Sylvia’s voice burst out in a mixture of relief and exasperation. "Why on earth aren’t you using the door?"
Aldric blinked at the sight of them, halfway through climbing up. "Ladies..." he said, bemused, looking around at their raised candleholders and pokers. "What are you doing here?"
Sylvia shook her head at him, half scandalized, half amused. He clearly hadn’t expected company, and for a heartbeat, the old soldier looked rather like a boy caught sneaking through forbidden halls.
Lorraine simply arched a brow, as if to remind him that the entire mansion was hers and she had every right to be here. Aldric seemed to realize the futility of arguing and said no more.
They returned to their seats, but Lorraine quickly noticed that Emma had gone rigid again. Her head was bowed so low that her chin nearly touched her chest, and her hands were trembling anew.
"Emma," Lorraine said softly, studying her. "Did you speak to Aldric about this before?"
Emma’s breath hitched. She didn’t dare look directly at him; instead, her eyes flicked toward him from the corner of her vision. A shiver ran through her hands as memories resurfaced, memories of Aldric’s rare but unmistakable murderous aura when provoked. He might seem gruff and harmless now, but Emma had witnessed a different side of him once.
And it had left its mark.