Chapter 86 - A Desperate Mother, A Clue in the Letters

The Beaumont estate felt different in the pale morning light—heavier somehow, as if the weight of Clara's absence had seeped into the very walls. Five days had passed since her disappearance, and I could see hope fading from Lady Beatrix's eyes with each sunrise that brought no news of her daughter.

I found her in the drawing room, staring blankly out the window. The composed, calculating woman who had tormented me throughout my childhood was now a hollow shell. Her hair, usually immaculately styled, hung limply around her gaunt face. Dark circles shadowed her eyes.

"Lady Beatrix?" I approached cautiously, a cup of tea in my hand. "I thought you might want something warm."

She turned slowly, as if the movement required enormous effort. "How kind," she murmured, accepting the cup with trembling hands. "Always the dutiful stepdaughter, even now."