Chapter 2 - The Photograph in the Handbag
Emily lived in a small cottage at the edge of the Ashbourne estate.
The cottage had once belonged to the head gardener. It had two narrow bedrooms, a kitchen with uneven floorboards, and windows that faced the river. The rent was taken directly from her wages, though Daniel had once told her the amount was unfair and promised to review it.
Emily preferred the cottage to the mansion.
It was the only place where no one watched how she walked, spoke, or breathed.
That night, however, she felt watched even after locking the door.
She placed the silver key on the kitchen table and removed the old photograph from her handbag.
The image showed a young woman standing beside a fountain. Her face was partly turned away, but her dark hair and gentle profile had always reminded Emily of herself.
On the back, someone had written a date.
October 14, 1998.
Beneath the date were three initials.
E. A. M.
Emily had searched public records many times, but the initials had never led anywhere. The church where she had been found had burned down years later, destroying most of its files.
Her adoptive parents, Thomas and Ruth Carter, had given her a loving childhood. They had never hidden the truth of her adoption, but they knew little more than she did.
Ruth had died when Emily was nineteen.
Thomas now lived in a care facility after a stroke weakened his memory.
Emily called him the next morning.
“Dad, do you remember the key that was found with me?”
Thomas was silent for a moment.
“The silver one?”
“Yes.”
“Your mother kept it in a red box.”
“Did anyone ever ask about it?”
Another pause.
“A woman came once.”
Emily sat straighter.
“What woman?”
“You were six, maybe seven. She stood across the street.”
“Did she speak to you?”
“She asked whether the little girl with the dark hair still had the key.”
Emily’s fingers tightened around the phone.
“What did you tell her?”
“That I didn’t know what she meant.”
“Did you see her again?”
Thomas struggled to answer.
“She wore... blue gloves.”
“Do you remember her face?”
“No. Your mother was frightened. She moved the red box that night.”
Emily looked at the photograph.
“Dad, why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought I did.”
His voice became confused.
“Emily, is Ruth making dinner?”
Pain pressed against Emily’s chest.
“No, Dad. She’s resting.”
“Good. She works too hard.”
After the call, Emily searched the photograph again.
Near the fountain, almost invisible behind the woman, stood part of a stone building. A carved symbol appeared above its entrance.
An E inside a circle of thorns.
The same symbol as the key.
Emily photographed the image and used an online image search. Most results were useless, but one showed an old newspaper article about the Ashbourne family’s private summer estate.
The building in the photograph had once been called Eleanor House.
Eleanor Ashbourne had commissioned it in memory of her youngest daughter, Margaret.
The article said Margaret died in a boating accident in 1998.
Emily checked the date.
October 14, 1998.
Her own estimated birthday.
A knock sounded at the cottage door.
Emily quickly placed the photograph and key inside her handbag.
Daniel stood outside holding a folder.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“No. Is something wrong?”
“You didn’t come to breakfast service.”
“I have the morning off.”
He looked embarrassed. “Right. I knew that.”
Emily smiled.
Daniel raised the folder. “I brought the revised housing agreement. Your rent has been reduced, and the extra deductions from the past year will be returned.”
“You came here personally for that?”
“I was walking.”
Emily looked toward the mansion nearly half a mile away.
“In formal shoes?”
Daniel glanced down. “It was an ambitious decision.”
She invited him inside.
While Emily made coffee, Daniel noticed the newspaper article open on her laptop.
“Eleanor House,” he said.
“You know it?”
“It belonged to my grandmother. The building was abandoned after my aunt Margaret died.”
“Was Margaret your father’s sister?”
“Younger half sister. I barely remember her.”
“Was her body recovered?”
Daniel’s expression changed.
“Why are you asking?”
Emily turned the laptop toward him.
“My photograph was taken there.”
Daniel studied the image.
“Who is the woman?”
“I don’t know.”
He zoomed in on the symbol above the entrance.
Then he noticed the edge of the silver key inside Emily’s handbag.
“May I see it?”
Emily hesitated before handing it to him.
Daniel’s reaction was immediate.
“My grandmother had this symbol on her private documents.”
“Celeste called it Eleanor’s key.”
“Celeste saw it?”
“Last night.”
Daniel stood.
“What exactly did she say?”
Before Emily could answer, the cottage window shattered.
Daniel pulled her down as a heavy object struck the opposite wall.
It was not a bullet.
It was a stone wrapped in paper.
Daniel picked it up carefully.
The message contained only one sentence.
GIVE BACK THE KEY OR THOMAS CARTER WILL REMEMBER HIS LAST DAY.
Emily reached for her phone.
Daniel caught her arm.
“Don’t call your father yet.”
“They threatened him.”
“And they may be waiting for you to react.”
Emily stared at the broken window.
“Who are they?”
Daniel looked at the symbol carved into the key.
May you like
“I don’t know.”
Outside, between the trees, the distant outline of a turquoise dress disappeared toward the mansion.
