Morning broke gray and overcast, putting a dreary light over the Beaulieu estate. Katherine and Lucien were together in the study, their most recent discoveries fanned on the table. Each new piece — the locket, the birth certificate, fragments of Celeste's letters — hinted at a puzzle coming into focus.
"What's our next step?" Katherine said, her voice steady despite the weight of her findings.
Lucien sat back in his chair, fingers tapping the armrest. "If Celeste's child is alive and their descendants are in Downtown, there must be a record. Birth certificates, family histories — maybe something in the village archives would help tie the loose ends."
"Then we do that. We go into the village," Katherine said resolutely.
Lucien paused, looking toward the window. "It's not that simple. This inquiry won't be welcome in the village. There are those who would rather the past be left alone — those who will not appreciate our digging it up."
"Then we'll be careful," Katherine said. "But we can't stop now. If there's even a chance that we can uncover the truth, we have to take it."
Lucien nodded, but his face was clouded with skepticism. "Alright. But don't underestimate the power of small-town gossip — or the lengths some people will go to protect their secrets."
Later that morning, they arrived in Downtown where the village was alive. The market square bustled with chatter and the clattering of carts, but Katherine could sense the villagers' eyes on them as they walked by.
Lucien ushered her to the modest town hall, home to the village archives. The clerk at the rear, a thin old woman with cold eyes and a neat bun, glanced up as they came in. She looked at Lucien, a glimmer of recognition in her eyes.
"Lucien Beaulieu," she said, suspiciousness wrapping her voice. "What brings you here?"
"We're investigating the estate's history," Lucien said flatly. "We're seeking records from the early 1800s — births, deaths, anything that we might use to connect the dots in a family tree."
The clerk's face hardened. "Why now? The past is the past, Mr. Beaulieu. Turning it up won't make a change."
Katherine moved closer, her tone equal parts soothing and stern. "We're not altering the past. We are working it out. Some stories deserve to be told, lives deserve to be remembered."
The clerk hesitated, her eyes darting back and forth between them. At last, she sighed and pointed to the back room. "The records you are searching for are inside it. But don't expect to see everything — you won't be the first one to leave disappointed."
The back room was dark and lined with shelves of dusty ledgers and yellowed documents. Celeste had slipped into history long ago, but Katherine and Lucien searched the files in silence, looking for names that might lead them to her.
Katherine eventually found a tattered ledger from 1825, after what felt like hours. Her heart raced as she scanned the entries, finally settling on what jumped out at her the most: Celeste Duval. There was a notation next to her name: Deceased. Survived by one child.
"There it is," Katherine said, holding the ledger up for Lucien's view.
Taking the book from her, he frowned as he examined the entry. "It doesn't tell you the child's name. Or where they went. Just that they survived."
"It's a start," said Katherine. "Now we know for sure Celeste's child lived. And if they had lived here, their descendants could still be in Downtown."
Lucien nodded, though his expression was still troubled. "If that's the case, that might complicate things. The Beaulieu name is still a force in this village. Some won't take the idea that their ancestors were linked to ours in ways they never understood."
As they exited the archives, Katherine had a nagging feeling they were being watched. The streets felt so much quieter, the air thick with unacknowledged tension.
Lucien must have sensed it as well because he moved beside her, their hands grazing as they walked. "Keep close," he said softly.
They rounded a corner and almost collided with a man in his fifties, face weathered and lined with suspicion. He stared hard at Lucien, then at Katherine.
"You two might wanna be careful," the man said, his tone low and menacing. "Some things are better left alone."
He turned and walked away and was soon lost in the crowd before they could answer.
Katherine gazed up at Lucien, her heart racing. "What was that about?"
Lucien's jaw tightened. "A warning. And not the last one we will get."
That evening, back at the estate, Katherine and Lucien studied the ledger and other documents they'd gathered. But their advance was interrupted by the sound of breaking glass.
Katherine startled, her eyes flitting to the window. "What was that?"
Lucien was already standing, heading for the noise. They discovered a smashed window in one of the ground-floor rooms, with a rock resting on the floor between the shards of glass.
Attached to the rock was a note written in jagged handwriting: Stop digging, or you'll regret it.
Katherine's hands shook as she read the note, but her will stiffened. "They're trying to make us afraid," she said, her voice even, even though fear churned in her chest.
Lucien touched her shoulder, firm but gentle. "Let them try. We've come too far to turn back now."
Katherine and Lucien walked on regardless, undeterred. The secrets of the Beaulieu estate and the village of Downtown were starting to unravel, but they knew that the closer they were to the truth, the higher the stakes would be.
While Katherine and Lucien would not back down, the pasts were dark. And they would face, together, whatever was to come, determined that the memory of the silenced would not die — and that their voices would be heard in the story that continued to unfold.