“Certainly, Edmund,” she said.
The meal concluded without incident, though Catherine noticed a muted lull in the conversation. She had no doubt that the other guests would speculate upon Edmund’s peculiar request and his unsettled manner. She hoped they would have more answers or a plan when the meeting with him concluded. Rosalind pressed her hand briefly as they rose from the table, then followed Beatrice and Sophia into the conservatory.
In the study, the morning sun filtered through tall windows, yet Catherine could not shake the chill that had seemed to settle over her the moment she noticed the ring missing.
She took a seat near the hearth. Marcus leaned against the desk while Alexander stood near the window. Rosalind slippedinside, glancing over her shoulder as she made her way to Alexander.
“I told Sophia I was coming to request itineraries for the day,” she said softly. “I do hope no one is terribly suspicious.
Catherine nodded, but she bit back her reply.There is one person whose suspicion is borne of guilt,she thought.I do hope that Edmund has some good news for us.
Edmund entered last, the opened letter clutched in his hand.
“I have some news,” he said, his expression offering no opinions of the relief or answers for which Catherine so desperately hoped. “I believe you all should hear this.”
Chapter Seventeen
Catherine held her breath as Edmund carefully unfolded the letter he had been clutching in his hand. Part of her wished she could take Marcus’s hand as they awaited what was clearly bad news.
“This arrived from my contact at the British Museum,” he said. “A trusted colleague. We have corresponded for years.”
He laid the letter on the desk and smoothed the edges with care.
“Before coming to Penwood, I had already marked Harold with suspicion. I sent to my colleague descriptions of several artefacts linked with him elsewhere, and asked that they be checked against the Museum’s registers. This is the reply.”
Alexander stepped forward.
“What does this mean?” he asked.
Edmund rubbed his forehead, clearly worried.
“They have no record of Harold being assigned to their provenance team,” he said. “He was never part of the authentication division. His name appears only once, in a list of short-term consultants hired for a temporary exhibition. That was nearly seven years ago.”
Marcus scoffed, and Catherine thought she saw a flicker of betrayal in his eyes.
“Then his claim of long-term association was false,” he said.
Edmund nodded.
“Yes,” he said.
Catherine thought about the items Harold had brought along. What if he had jeopardised their home and freedom by bringing stolen collection pieces into their home?
“What about his artefacts?” Catherine asked.
Edmund’s expression softened as he shook his head.
“Two of the three were identified as replicas,” he said. “The third appears authentic, but there are discrepancies in the condition report. It may have been altered.”
Catherine straightened in her chair, the dire situation anchoring her spine. Across the room, Marcus had stilled. His pacing halted as the weight of the letter’s contents settled over him like damp wool. In the silence that followed Edmund’s final words, she could hear the faint ticking of the study’s mantel clock. The sound seemed far louder than it ought.
Marcus turned slowly to face them.
“You are certain of this?” he asked.
Edmund gave a single nod.
“The letter contains firsthand testimony, including two sworn statements and a detailed account. It confirms the pattern I feared. Fitzwilliam secures admittance by forged recommendations, gains access to private collections, observes them closely, then has skilful copies prepared. Once they are in place, the originals disappear.”
