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Finding no sensible answer, Skye turned her attention to the surroundings. The chateau was beautiful and in a way, cast in the soft setting sun, it seemed everything that the dark, downtrodden Soames estate in Norfolk was not. Gorgeous light blond-coloured stones made up the brickwork of the large two-storey chateau. Little balconies wrapped around tall double-fronted windows, some of which were open, and glimpses of expensive curtains billowing in the breeze made the building feel lived-in and welcoming.
But Anaïs, despite her small stature and what must have been considerable age, was leading them along at a brisk clip. It might have been less ostentatious than the Soames estate, but this building felt more welcoming and loved. As Anaïs led them into the cooler, darker interior, Skye barely had time to take note of the hallways and corridors she found herself in.
‘You grew up here?’ she asked Benoit in awe.
He nodded. ‘My father and mother had the east wing, and after he died...well, Anaïs moved us to the west wing, nearer to her living quarters.’
It was imposing and impossibly grand, but every now and then she thought she could see traces of similarities to the Soames estate. Neither, of course, was anything like the little house that she, her sisters and her mother had shared when they were younger.
Anaïs held the door to the library open and the moment that Skye stepped into the room the air whooshed from her lungs on a sudden, ‘Oh!’
Skye turned to see a large smile across Anaïs’ lovely features.
‘I thought as much,’ the older woman said with a satisfied nod.
‘Thought what? Anaïs, what is going on?’ Benoit asked from behind Skye, clearly out of the loop of the unspoken back and forth between her and Skye.
It was an exact replica of the library at the Soames estate. There were slight differences in the décor, but essentially it was the same layout. Skye’s eyes flew to the window on the left-hand side and she didn’t need to go into the hallway to know that the room was the same mis-sized shape as Catherine’s library.
‘Ms Soames, I have been waiting quite some time to meet you,’ Anaïs said, holding out her hand. Skye took the warm delicate hand in her own, channelling as much of her emotions as she could into the simple gesture. ‘I believe you know where to find it?’ the older woman said with a smile.
‘May I?’ she asked, permission the only thing holding her back.
‘Of course.’
‘What is going on?’ Skye heard Benoit demand as she went to the shelves to find the hidden release she knew would be there. As Skye retrieved the package contained in the recess, Anaïs began her story.
‘Years ago, my grandfather, Benoit, entrusted me with a secret, a responsibility that I have had for nearly my entire life. He told me about Catherine and their relationship in England,’ she said, smiling towards Skye, ‘always ensuring that I knew he loved his wife and children. But Catherine had been his first love. She had written to him just before her marriage to her cousin and explained that she needed him to keep the map a secret. That one day someone from her lineage would come looking for it and that he was the only person she trusted to keep the map of the secret passageways and rooms of her English estate safe. She swore to burn her copy and leave the rest to fate.’
‘But how did you know that was Skye?’ Benoit asked.
‘My dear boy, do you really think I would just sit around and wait for some stranger to turn up? You’re not the only one able to hire a private investigator, you know.’
Thankfully, his great-aunt turned back to Skye before she could see or hear him choking on his tea.
‘You’re the oldest, are you not?’
‘Yes, Madame Chalendar.’
‘Mademoiselle,’ Anaïs corrected. ‘I traced your mother to the south of England and when I discovered that she had three daughters I hoped that you might be the ones to finally follow the path that Catherine laid out all those years ago.’
Benoit frowned, the suspicion growing that this was the family duty that Anaïs had often referred to throughout his childhood—not the family business—shaking him to his core.
‘Had not Ms Soames arrived within my lifetime, then I would have passed the responsibility to you,’ she said to him.
Benoit was distracted from further thought as Skye took a seat beside his great-aunt with the cloth bundle in her lap. Fingers trembling, she reached for the strings that bound the package and began to release the contents.
There was a thickly bound old-fashioned map which could only have been the plans for her grandfather’s estate, something that looked like a letter bearing the name Soames in strong handwriting and a ring. He watched as she held it up to the light, three citrine stones sparkling and set within a gold band.
‘Is that one of the Soames jewels?’ Benoit asked.
‘Non, chéri. My grandfather gave Catherine this ring, but she returned it with the map and letter,’ Anaïs explained. It was beautiful and he was surprised to see Skye so easily di
scard it. Instead, she turned her attention to the map and began to unfold it. It looked ancient, the paper having aged into a beautiful golden colour over the hundred plus years it had remained hidden. The map was a study in fine detail, clearly outlining the design of a sprawling estate with secondary passages and chambers within the walls.
‘There are so many of them. Surely they can’t all be intact?’
‘It would take a long time to search them all,’ Benoit realised.
