Gabriel turned from the window to face him once more.
The solicitor folded his hands together. “You keep your appointment exactly as arranged.” John raised an interested eyebrow. Mr. Carson continued, “Should Mr. Hatley arrive while you are at the tavern, we will simply take the evidence directly to you.”
John nodded almost immediately. “That is an excellent plan,” he agreed, sitting forward in renewed interest. “Helen will remain occupied, believing herself entirely in control.”
Mr. Carson smiled faintly. “Meanwhile, we place the truth directly before her once we have it.”
Gabriel remained silent, carefully considering the suggestion. It possessed undeniable merit. Even so, experience had taught him that plans surviving perfectly on paper often fared considerably worse when confronted by determined human beings.
“I shall think it over,” Gabriel replied at last, returning to his chair. He lifted his teacup and took a long swallow, welcoming the bitterness that accompanied the strong brew. “For now,” he added, “we possess a few more hours.”
Mr. Carson inclined his head. “Indeed, we do.” He reached into one of the leather document cases resting beside his desk and withdrew a carefully folded parchment sealed with an official crest.
“At the very least,” the solicitor said as he broke the seal and spread the document across the polished wood, “I have secured a certified copy of Helen Warring’s death certificate.”
Gabriel leaned forward while John rose from his chair to examine it more closely. Mr. Carson tapped the paper lightly with one finger. “Someone deliberately recorded her as deceased.” His expression hardened. “That alone presents serious legal difficulties.”
Gabriel studied the certificate in silence. The official signatures appeared genuine. The parish seal had not been forged. Some years earlier, someone had knowingly participated in an elaborate deception. Whether through bribery, coercion, or negligence hardly mattered. The lie had allowed Helen to vanish without consequence while leaving Gabriel to rebuild the shattered lives of two innocent children. Rage stirred quietly beneath his carefully controlled expression.
John folded his arms as he looked over the document. “Combined with my testimony,” he said firmly, “the case becomes considerably stronger.”
Gabriel lifted his eyes. John met his gaze without hesitation. “I treated David’s injuries myself.” His voice grew quieter. “Idocumented everything.” He swallowed before continuing. “The bruises. The scar.” His jaw tightened. “No court will ignore that.”
Mr. Carson nodded in agreement. “A physician’s testimony carries considerable weight.” He carefully folded the death certificate once more before placing it inside a leather folder. “Particularly when accompanied by medical records.”
Gabriel appreciated John’s willingness to revisit those painful memories, knowing full well the physician cared deeply for the children himself. It could not have been easy. None of this was easy.
“It is good evidence,” Gabriel acknowledged, rubbing tiredly at the bridge of his nose before looking between the two men. “Very good evidence.” He paused, weighing each word carefully. “But I do not wish to leave anything to chance.”
His voice became firmer. “The more proof we possess against Helen, the better.” He met Mr. Carson’s eyes squarely. “When this ends, I want no loophole through which she might ever reach David or Valerie again.”
Silence settled over the office after his declaration. Outside, the village bustled with ordinary life as carts rolled across the square and merchants called greetings to passing customers. Inside, however, the atmosphere remained heavy with urgency.
Gabriel realized that everything now depended upon the coming hours. Either they would finally free the children from Helen forever, or she would tighten her grip upon their lives onceagain. As he looked at the men beside him, Gabriel silently vowed that no matter the cost, he would ensure only one of those futures ever came to pass.
“If you will excuse me, I need some air.” He headed for the door.
Gabriel stepped out onto the narrow landing and closed the door behind him with a quiet firmness, as though sealing away for a moment the weight of ledgers, testimonies, and legal strategies. He remained still for a breath, one hand resting on the iron railing as he looked down toward the village square. People moved below with ordinary purpose, unaware that lives were currently being arranged and rearranged like pieces on a chessboard.
He drew in a slow breath, forcing himself to steady. Fresh air did little to ease the tension coiled beneath his ribs, but it allowed him to think beyond the confines of ink and parchment. His thoughts, however, refused to remain on strategy alone. They drifted, inevitably, to Amelia. It irritated him how often that had begun to happen. Not because the thought was unwelcome but because it was constant, persistent, and increasingly impossible to ignore.
She has entered my life, and nothing at Anderton Manor has remained unchanged since her arrival.
She had changed the children first. That much had been undeniable. David no longer flinched at morning routines or braced himself for disappointment. Valerie no longer walked as though the world were waiting to correct her every movement.Even the household itself had shifted, becoming something less rigid, less fearful, and far more alive. Gabriel found himself noticing laughter in corridors that had once been silent. He noticed it now because he realized how rare it had once been. And all of it, inconveniently, led back to her.
John stepped out moments later, closing the door behind him with a quieter ease than Gabriel had managed. He joined him at the railing and followed his gaze toward the square below. For a while, neither spoke. The wind moved between them, carrying the distant clatter of hooves and the muted rhythm of village life continuing entirely unaware of the storm gathering above it. John finally broke the silence, leaning his forearms against the stone.
“What does all of this mean for Miss Shirley’s one-month term as governess?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral but not without curiosity.
Gabriel exhaled slowly, his grip tightening slightly on the iron rail. The question struck harder than it should have. He had avoided giving it a clear answer even to himself.
“I do not know,” he admitted at last, his voice low. He stared out across the rooftops, jaw tightening. “I had intended to ask for her hand in marriage,” he continued, the words feeling heavier than he expected as he said them aloud.
“Is that so?” John asked.
“Indeed. But now…” He hesitated, frustration flickering beneath his control. “Now I am not certain it is wise.”
John studied him for a moment before looking back toward the street. “You are worried about her safety,” he observed rather than asked.
