The simple carriage sped along a country lane, bumping over rough, abandoned tracks as the first light of dawn began to appear. Elenora sat in the corner, watching Darius, who was hunched over a folded map under the dim light of a portable lantern. The distance between them was only a meter, but it felt like an abyss, separated by the tension left by their wedding night kiss.
After an hour of suffocating silence, she wished he would talk, argue, or even attack her. Anything was better than this stark quiet.
"Are you sure we are heading in the right direction?" Elenora finally asked, shattering the silence with a practical tone. "This area is not within the family's main Warwick holdings. It's in the Southwest."
Darius did not look up from the map. "Correct. Most of the productive Warwick land lies to the Northeast. But this location, Duchess, was originally secured during your father's time for 'agricultural expansion,' then quickly abandoned. It was never registered in the Crown's property rolls. It's a perfect blind spot."
He finally closed the map and looked at her. His storm-gray eyes were sharp in the lantern light. "Don't worry. We won't get lost. The problem isn't getting in, it's getting out."
"I don't worry," Elenora replied coldly, though she couldn't stop herself from glancing at his hand, which held a small pistol wrapped in cloth.
* * *
Shortly after, the carriage stopped. The location they had reached was completely desolate.
"The Winter Garden" was an old stone structure, perhaps once a luxurious hunting lodge, but now utterly dilapidated. Stones were broken, windows shattered, and dark ivy covered its facade. The air was cold and damp, with no sign of life.
"What a cheerful sight for a wedding morning," Elenora murmured dryly.
Darius stepped out first, taking the lantern. "Don't look for a blooming garden, look for a hideout."
He moved toward the ruined main entrance. "The main door is a likely trap. There's no reason to leave it obvious. There must be a service entrance or a secret way in."
Darius spent time scouring the perimeter, relying on his field experience. Elenora watched him scrutinize every corner and cracked stone with tireless concentration—the very competence she both admired and resented.
"Stop standing like a statue," Darius commanded sharply. "Check the back area. Look for any uneven stone, an old drain, or a gap between the bricks."
* * *
Elenora moved toward the rear of the building, forced to comply with his orders. As she searched, she found a small back courtyard covered in weeds, which looked strangely more secure than the front.
"Darius!" she called out softly. "This back wall looks suspiciously intact. And there is one marble slab that hasn't been weathered like the others."
Darius came immediately, placing his hand on the smooth marble. The wall was devoid of any visible entrance.
"Good," he said, offering a rare acknowledgment of her efficiency. "They did a good job. This is the spot."
Darius produced his lock-picking tools. After moments of intense focus, Elenora heard a tiny click.
The slab slid open with a heavy scrape, revealing a small opening leading to worn, stone steps plunged into darkness. Cold, damp air flowed up, carrying the smell of moss and buried secrets.
Darius looked down. "This is the depot. All the evidence must be here."
He looked at Elenora, then back at the opening. "We could return to London now and inform the police, but they would take too long. If the documents are here, we need them now. You cannot trust the police either."
"I trusted my father," Elenora said quietly, "but now I only trust your competence. We are going down."
* * *
Darius nodded, descending first, holding the lantern in one hand and the pistol in the other. Elenora followed cautiously, clinging to the cold stone wall to avoid slipping.
The stairs were deep, leading to a small, brick-lined room. It was not a conventional storage room but a secret library: built-in shelves filled with wooden boxes and dusty papers. A massive iron strongbox secured by a complex lock stood in the center.
"Damn it," Darius whispered, looking at the box. "The cunning dog. This isn't a depot; it's a secret archive. And the Elmsworth deed must be here."
As Darius knelt before the strongbox, Elenora inspected the room. She noticed something odd: one of the shelves was unusually clear of dust. She looked up.
"Darius, wait!" Elenora said, her voice suddenly tight with fear. "Look at the ceiling."
Darius raised the lantern quickly. The flickering light revealed a small ventilation shaft covered by a metal mesh... except the mesh was recently torn, and a piece of dark cloth hung from it.
"They were here," Darius stated, his voice tight with frustration. "They knew we would trace the clue to 'The Winter Garden'."
At that moment, they both heard a faint sound coming from above, from the corridor leading to the stairs. It wasn't the wind. It was the sound of cautious movement on stone.
Darius raised his pistol toward the opening. "We've been led into a trap, Duchess. Get close to me."