“We should pause,” Marcus said; deep concern for his wife’s well-being suddenly sprouting.
“No,” she said. “This is too important.”
He looked at her, his mind briefly forgetting forgery and criminal networks. He saw only the woman before him, drawn with purpose and resolve, undiminished by the exhaustion that was slowly setting in.
“Are you certain?” he asked. “I can send for tea and cakes—or perhaps biscuits and a little wine.”
His wife shook her head with a soft smile.
“I am certain,” she said. “There will be time enough for that when we have finished for the night.”
Marcus smiled despite his frustration at the situation at hand and his concern for her.
“I do not know what I would have done without support such as yours,” he said.
She met his eyes again. Her gaze was steady as ever, but there was also something else there that looked a little like the way he was beginning to feel around her. He was so lost in analysing the look in her eyes that he almost missed her speaking.
“You would have done as you always do,” she said. “Persevered.”
He shook his head.
“Not like this,” he said. “Not with such clarity. You see patterns where others see only confusion. You bring order when the rest of us bring speculation. When we first met, I sought balance and steadiness for my home, for myself. What I have found is equal to my own right hand.”
She opened her mouth to reply, then closed it again. Her eyes dropped to the document between them, and she smoothed the edge of the parchment with great care.
“You speak as though it were heroism,” she said.
Marcus shook his head slowly.
“No,” he said, enthralled with how remarkable she was and how fortunate he was to have her with him. “It is something rarer.”
She did not look up, and Marcus feared he had spoken too boldly. The notion was seemingly confirmed when she finally did reply.
“We must decide how much to share,” she said. “It will not be long before our guests start to notice that the atmosphere has shifted. We must figure out something to tell.”
Marcus nodded slowly.
“Yes,” he said, “and to whom we shall tell it.”
Catherine frowned thoughtfully.
“I suppose we could always plead a reception of bad news,” she said. “It is not entirely false, as I should say this is indeed terrible news. And it would be something we could tell everyone, until we discern who might be trustworthy.”
Marcus stared at his bride, his awe returning anew. Was there no issue she could not solve?
“I think that is a wonderful idea,” he said. “Why do we not go have a meal and rest for the evening. There will be time to continue our investigation after some rest tomorrow.
Catherine nodded, slowly rising from her seat.
“That sounds wonderful,” she said.
She looked at him as if she would speak again, but instead turned and gathered the compiled documents into a stack. They moved toward the door together. But as she reached for the handle, she paused.
“Marcus,” she said.
He turned to her.
“Yes?” he asked.
