Chapter 2: Chapter 2 — The Letter in the Candlelight

Clara read the first line again.
There are things about your father's death that I never told you.
The words seemed to move on the page.
For twenty-three years, she had believed her father's death had been an accident. A fall from the western cliffs during a storm. The village had mourned him. The estate had mourned him. Her mother had mourned him in silence.
And Clara had eventually stopped asking questions.
Until tonight.
She lowered the letter.
"Did you know about this?"
Julian shook his head.
"No."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"I know how it sounds."
"Then explain."
Julian leaned back in his chair.
"I found the letter three weeks ago. I didn't even know it existed until then."
"Why bring it to me now?"
"Because your mother addressed it to you."
Clara looked down.
The paper had yellowed with age, but the handwriting remained unmistakable.
She continued.
Your father was not the man you believed him to be.
Her heart tightened.
But neither was he the villain I once made him appear to be.
Clara stopped.
She looked toward the dark windows.
Rainwater glimmered on the glass.
"What does that mean?"
Julian didn't answer.
She read on.
The night before his death, your father received a visitor. I heard them arguing in the library. I did not know who the visitor was. Your father told me that if anything happened to him, I should never trust the story I was given.
Clara's fingers tightened around the paper.
Then came the sentence that made her blood run cold.
Julian was there that night.
She dropped the letter.
The silence was absolute.
Julian closed his eyes.
"I knew that part would hurt."
Clara stood.
"You were here?"
"Yes."
"That night?"
"Yes."
"And you never told me?"
"I tried."
"No."
Her voice broke.
"You disappeared."
"I was told to leave."
"By whom?"
Julian hesitated.
"Your father."
Clara stared at him.
"My father sent you away?"
"He did."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
"Then why did you obey him?"
Julian stood slowly.
"Because I was twenty-four years old, Clara. Your father was powerful, angry, and convinced that I was destroying your future."
"You were."
Julian's expression changed.
"What?"
"You left me."
"I thought you knew why."
"I knew only that you stopped writing."
"I wrote."
Clara froze.
"What?"
"I wrote to you every week for almost a year."
She shook her head.
"I never received a single letter."
Julian looked at her with an expression she hadn't seen since they were young.
Pain.
Not anger.
Not accusation.
Pain.
"I know."
The grandfather clock in the hallway suddenly chimed.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Clara looked toward the doorway.
The clock had been broken for years.
It chimed four times.
Then stopped.
Julian turned pale.
"You heard that?"
"Of course I heard it."
He crossed the room.
Clara followed him into the hallway.
The grandfather clock stood beneath the portrait of her father.
Its hands had moved.
They now pointed to 2:17.
The exact time her father had died.
Clara whispered, "That's impossible."
Julian stared at the clock.
"Maybe."
She turned toward him.
"You said you were here that night."
"Yes."
"What happened?"
Julian remained silent.
"Tell me."
He looked at the portrait.
"I saw your father arguing with someone."
"Who?"
"I couldn't see his face."
"What did they argue about?"
Julian swallowed.
"Your mother."
Clara felt a chill move through her.
"My mother?"
"Your father accused her of planning to leave him."
"She would never—"
"She wanted to."
Clara stepped backward.
"How do you know?"
"Because she told me."
The candles in the dining room flickered behind them.
Clara stared at Julian.
"You spoke to my mother?"
"That night."
"Before my father died?"
"Yes."
"What did she say?"
Julian's voice softened.
"She asked me to take you away from Blackthorn."
Clara could barely breathe.
"Why?"
"Because she was afraid."
"Of my father?"
Julian nodded.
"She said she had discovered something about him."
"What?"
"I don't know."
"You must know something."
"I know only what she told me."
Julian stepped closer.
"She said your father had been hiding money. Large amounts. Money that didn't belong to him."
Clara frowned.
"From where?"
"I don't know."
She looked again at the letter.
A final paragraph remained.
She read it aloud.
Clara, if Julian ever returns, listen to him. He was the only person who tried to protect you. I kept you here because I was afraid of what would happen if the truth came out.
Her voice trembled.
Then she reached the final line.
The truth is hidden beneath the house.
Clara looked up.
"Under the house?"
Julian nodded slowly.
"I was afraid that was what it meant."
"There's no basement."
"There is."
She stared at him.
"What?"
"Your father showed it to me once."
Clara's face went pale.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I thought it was sealed."
"Thought?"
Julian looked toward the western corridor.
"I checked before dinner."
A strange sound came from somewhere beneath them.
A dull knock.
Then another.
Knock.
Knock.
Clara and Julian stared at each other.
The sound came again.
Three slow knocks.
From beneath the floor.
Julian whispered,
"Someone's down there."
And somewhere beneath Blackthorn Estate, something knocked back.

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