The house felt different at night. The curtains moved softly. I liked this time. when the estate acted like it wasn't watching me, and I could act like I wasn't being observed.
I returned to the dressing room because my curiosity got the better of me. I picked up the envelope with my father's handwriting. I had read it before, but I smoothed it out again. His writing was neat and unforgiving. He believed in trusting the record, not words. He preferred a plan over a motivational speech.
The lamp lit a tidy spot around me. Outside, I could hear the grounds rustling. Inside, the air smelled of cedar and old silk. I sat at the vanity and pulled the ledger closer, feeling its cool leather.
The pages showed numbers and initials, but this time it seemed less like a secret and more like a map. Names were paired with dates, and dates had small notes. transfer, gift, arrival.
I stopped on one line and couldn't move my finger away from it.
RG — Arrival — 7/14 — 21:00
Rosegate. Tomorrow at nine in the evening. It wasn't buried in vague details. It was an invitation.
A weak laugh escaped from me, brittle and not funny at all. My father loved to create drama. He enjoyed staging events that made people uncomfortable. Apparently, his legacy included events designed to make others squirm.
A soft noise at the door caught my attention. Sebastian leaned in the doorway looking at me.
"You found it," he said. It was a statement, not a surprise.
"Yes." My voice felt small. "Tomorrow. Rosegate. Nine." I closed the ledger but kept the page visible.
He approached. The lamplight highlighted his cheekbones. "Rosegate is a small estate across town. It's for private events and discreet donors." He spoke cautiously, then flinched at a memory. "Your father used it for meetings that needed to look accidental."
"Accidental?" I repeated. That didn't seem right. Accidents are unforeseen. This was planned.
He hesitated. "And sometimes convenient."
Convenient for whom? My mind raced through names. trustees, benefactors, smiling faces in neat rows. My chest tightened. a quickening feeling like adrenaline mixed with anxiety inside me.
A slip of paper fell from between the ledger pages. I picked it up. There was a smudge of ink, with one word written in a different handwriting.
Stop. — Unknown
My heart raced. Who sent this? Why? Was it a warning or help? The possibilities lined up.
"Someone's already involved," Sebastian said quietly. "Or someone wants you to think so."
I walked to the window. The hedges were dark against the night sky. A garden lantern flickered and went out.
"You owe him a favor," I said suddenly, because waiting wasn't my strong suit. "You said you owe him something. Who?"
Sebastian's expression was hard to read. Not guilt. not pride. Maybe a mix as if recalling a complicated life. "I owe your father a promise," he said. "Not to him as a person. to a debt he carried for others. I promised to stay until some issues were settled."
"What issues?" I said with curiosity.
He folded his hands. "Issues that involve Rosegate. Small transfers. Silent favors. A ledger that needs checking. Someone would prefer those ledgers stayed unread." He looked at me, and for the first time, his smile vanished. "And someone would prefer the ledgers stayed hidden."
The vanity light hummed. I looked tired but alert. I returned to Hartwell to find peace and respectability.
I remembered Julian and his clean boxes of PR. I thought of Mrs. Dalloway's piercing glare. I recalled the man at the luncheon who let the word Rosegate slip from his mouth.
If someone wanted the ledger kept private, I wanted it exposed. Slightly moral? Maybe. Dramatic? Certainly. Would it work? We would see.
Sebastian reached for his coat, as if he understood my plans. "If you go tonight, you shouldn't go alone," he said. "If you want to go tomorrow—" He paused and added quietly, "and you want someone who knows how to stay under the radar, I'll come with you."
I almost laughed. It would have sounded forced. "You want to come with me?"
"Yes." No embellishments, no fancy gestures. "I know the place, how your father used it. If someone is watching the ledger, they may also watch you."
His offer sat between us.
My first instinct said to be independent. My second, more practical thought recalled how easily I had been outsmarted at school by a boy who managed situations well.
I looked back at the ledger, focusing on the single word "Stop" as if it might change if I stared long enough. Nothing changed.
The house settled again, but the silence felt heavy now.
"Tomorrow," Sebastian said quietly. "If you choose to go."
I nodded, though I no longer felt like I was deciding. Curiosity was already drawing me in.
When he left, the lamplight flickered. I thought about Rosegate. the shadows there, hiding secrets. and the unknown force that wanted me to stop going.
I put the ledger into the drawer and locked it, though I knew locks didn't mean much here.
Outside, a single garden lantern lit up briefly, then went out again, as if someone had checked the darkness and found it waiting.
I pulled the curtains closed, but the fabric seemed to resist, as if something on the other side was holding it back. I found the idea silly, but I yanked them shut with more force than needed.
A breeze slipped through the keyhole, bringing a faint smell of smoke. It wasn't the usual cedar scent of the house. This smell was sharper.
I heard a single creak from the hallway. It sounded too intentional to just be the house settling.
I opened the door a little. There was nothing there. The hallway looked empty and pale.
Behind me, the garden lantern flared up briefly before it went out for good.
Tomorrow, I would go to Rosegate. Someone else was already awake.