The house grew eerily silent as night fell. The faint scent of magnolias lingered in the air, a reminder of the spirits still tethered to the manor. Sophia and Liam sat in the study, poring over the letters and notes they had collected.
"Finish it," Liam said aloud, echoing the ghostly voice they had heard earlier. He glanced at Sophia. "What do you think it means? What are we supposed to finish?"
Sophia frowned, her mind spinning. "It has to be something Henry started. Something that ties all of this together—James's murder, Eleanor's imprisonment, and even Henry's death."
Liam leaned forward, pointing to one of the letters they had found in Eleanor's hidden compartment. "What about this?" he asked, tapping the paper.
Sophia read the line he indicated: There are things I have done to protect this family—things that cannot see the light of day.
Her stomach turned. "What if Henry wasn't just talking about James? What if he was involved in something bigger—something dangerous?"
Liam's expression darkened. "Like what?"
Sophia shook her head. "I don't know. But I think we need to search the rest of the house. If Henry was hiding something, there's a chance it's still here."
---
They started in the east wing, where Eleanor had been confined. The small room where Sophia had found the hidden letters seemed to hold no more secrets, but the hallway leading to it was lined with other rooms, each one locked.
Liam produced a set of old keys they had found in the study and began trying them on the doors. Most led to empty rooms filled with dust and decay, but one door at the end of the hall creaked open to reveal a space unlike the others.
The room was a study, smaller than the one downstairs but just as opulent. A large desk dominated the center, its surface cluttered with papers, ink bottles, and a tarnished letter opener. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and the faint smell of cigars hung in the air.
"This must have been Henry's private study," Liam said, his voice hushed.
Sophia moved to the desk, her fingers brushing over the papers. Most were mundane—ledgers, correspondence about estate matters—but one envelope caught her eye. It was sealed with wax, the Harrington family crest pressed into it.
She carefully broke the seal and unfolded the letter inside. Her breath caught as she read:
> To my successor,
If you are reading this, then the time has come to confront the truth. The Harrington name was built on power, but that power came at a cost. There are those who will stop at nothing to see us fall. You must protect the legacy, no matter the price.
Sophia's hands trembled. "What legacy was he protecting?"
Liam's gaze swept the room, landing on a large painting that hung above the fireplace. It depicted a stern-looking man in a waistcoat and cravat—undoubtedly an ancestor of the Harrington family. But something about the painting seemed off.
"Help me with this," Liam said, moving to the painting.
Together, they lifted it from the wall, revealing a hidden safe built into the stone.
"Of course there's a safe," Sophia muttered.
Liam examined the lock, his brow furrowed. "This is old. We might be able to crack it, but it'll take time."
Sophia glanced back at the desk, her eyes landing on a notebook filled with scrawled notes. Flipping through it, she found a series of numbers written repeatedly in the margins: 1815.
"It's worth a shot," she said, pointing to the numbers.
Liam entered the combination, and the lock clicked open. The door swung inward, revealing a collection of documents, a pouch of coins, and a small, leather-bound journal.
Sophia grabbed the journal, her heart pounding. "This must be it. Whatever Henry was hiding—it's in here."
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