Chapter 5 - The Woman in the East Corridor
The first dinner was informal.
Only nine people attended, including Philippe’s brother Bernard, Bernard’s wife, and an elderly family lawyer named Henri Duval.
Margaret had met Henri before.
He had been a junior clerk in her father’s bank.
When he entered the dining room and saw her, his steps faltered.
A server steadied his arm.
“Are you unwell, Monsieur Duval?”
Henri looked away.
“Only tired.”
Margaret understood immediately.
Henri recognized her.
Throughout dinner, he avoided her eyes.
Bernard spoke loudly about politics.
Philippe discussed markets.
Hélène told stories designed to demonstrate how long the Beaumont family had occupied important rooms.
Claire tried to participate, but every subject seemed arranged to exclude her.
When Claire mentioned her mother’s catering company, Hélène praised the flower arrangement.
When she mentioned an art exhibition she had helped organize in London, Philippe asked Luca about work.
Margaret said little.
She watched.
Near midnight, after Claire and Luca went upstairs, Margaret left her room.
The villa corridors were dark except for small lamps along the walls.
She headed toward the east wing.
As a child, she had discovered a narrow staircase behind the linen cupboard. It led to her father’s private study.
Margaret doubted it still existed.
She found the cupboard.
The shelves had been replaced, but the wooden frame remained.
She pressed a carved panel near the floor.
Nothing happened.
She pressed again.
A soft click sounded.
The back wall opened two inches.
Margaret pulled it wider.
Dust filled the hidden staircase.
She stepped inside.
At the top, she reached a narrow corridor.
The door to the old study was locked.
Margaret removed the silver key from her pocket.
It fit.
Inside, the room had changed.
The shelves were empty.
The desk was new.
But the fireplace remained.
Margaret crossed to it and reached beneath the mantel.
Her fingers found the small brass lever her father had shown her when she was fifteen.
The panel beside the fireplace opened.
Behind it lay a shallow compartment.
It was empty except for a fresh white envelope.
On the front, someone had written:
MARGUERITE
Margaret’s heart pounded.
She opened it.
Inside was a single card.
YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE BROUGHT CLAIRE.
A floorboard creaked behind her.
Margaret turned.
The housekeeper with the black rose stood in the doorway.
“Who are you?” Margaret demanded in French.
The woman closed the door.
“My name is Elise.”
“Who left this?”
“I did.”
Margaret stepped toward her.
“Why?”
“To warn you.”
“You wear their symbol.”
Elise glanced at her cuff.
“This does not always mean loyalty.”
“Then what does it mean?”
“That they own the person wearing it.”
Margaret studied her.
“Who are they?”
Elise’s expression hardened.
“You know who Philippe is. You do not know who he serves.”
“Tell me.”
“I cannot.”
“Then why warn me?”
“Because your husband once saved my life.”
Margaret stopped.
“You knew Thomas?”
“He found me in Marseille twenty-two years ago. I was sixteen.”
“What did he tell you?”
“That if anything happened to him, I should watch the Beaumont family.”
“For twenty-two years?”
“I have done more than watch.”
Elise glanced toward the corridor.
“We do not have much time.”
“Is Claire in danger?”
“Yes.”
“From Philippe?”
“From someone inside this house.”
“Who?”
Elise hesitated.
“I do not know.”
Margaret’s patience broke.
“You brought me here to tell me nothing?”
“I brought you here because Philippe believes the Laurent ledger is hidden beneath this villa.”
“It is not.”
“Then he believes you can find it.”
“I cannot.”
“Someone thinks Claire can.”
Margaret stared at her.
“Claire knows nothing.”
“That may not matter.”
Elise reached into her apron and handed Margaret a small brass token engraved with a black rose.
On the reverse was the number thirteen.
“What is this?”
“A door marker.”
“For which door?”
“Ask Luca what happened the night his brother died.”
Before Margaret could answer, footsteps sounded in the hidden corridor.
Elise pushed Margaret behind the open study door.
Philippe entered.
He carried a pistol.
“Elise?”
The housekeeper bowed her head.
“Sir.”
“Why is the door open?”
“I heard movement.”
Philippe looked around.
His gaze passed inches from Margaret.
“Was someone here?”
“No, sir.”
Philippe crossed to the fireplace and examined the secret compartment.
He saw the missing envelope.
His face darkened.
“Find her,” he said.
Elise did not move.
“Find whom?”
May you like
Philippe turned toward her.
“The dead woman walking through my house.”
