Chapter 6 - The Unraveling Lie
Margaret didn't stand up. She pressed herself deeper into the cushions of her rocking chair, her hands clutching the arms so tightly her knuckles turned blue.
"You shouldn't have brought her here, Julian," Margaret said, her voice gathering a sharp, frantic edge. "You shouldn't have let her wear the medallion. They'll find us now. They'll know!"
"Who will know?" Clara stepped between her mother and Julian, dropping to her knees beside the rocking chair and taking her mother's cold, trembling hands in hers. "Mother, look at me. I went to the estate today. I found the photograph. I know about Arthur. I know about the night you fled."
Margaret’s eyes darted frantically between Clara and Julian, panic wildly flaring in her chest. "You don't know anything! You think you found a secret, but you've just stepped into the mouth of the trap!"
"Arthur's body was identified by his dental records and his signet ring, Elena," Julian said, taking a cautious step closer, his voice dropping into a low, persuasive rumble. "I buried him myself. I signed the death certificates. If Arthur didn't die in that hearth fire, then who was on that rug? Who did I help you cover up?"
Margaret closed her eyes, tears squeezing past her wrinkled eyelids and running down the deep grooves of her cheeks. She let out a long, shuddering breath that sounded like wind through dry grass.
"It wasn't Arthur on the rug," Margaret whispered.
Julian froze. "What?"
"The man who came into the study that night... he was wearing Arthur's coat and Arthur's ring," Margaret said, opening her eyes to look directly into Julian’s core. "He came in through the terrace doors while the storm was raging. He caught me packing my bags. He grabbed me by the hair and threw me against the mantelpiece."
She reached up with a frail hand and touched a thin, white scar hidden beneath her hairline.
"I reached for the iron poker," Margaret continued, her voice trembling violently. "I didn't mean to kill him, Julian. I just wanted him to let go of me. I struck him once, across the temple. He collapsed onto the hearth. When he fell, his coat swung open... and I saw his face under the firelight."
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"It was Arthur," Julian insisted, stepping forward. "I saw him!"
"No!" Margaret screamed, her voice cracking with an intense, terrifying authority that shook the tiny cabin. "It was Arthur’s twin! It was the brother your family kept locked in the asylum across the river! The brother who was written out of the Blackwood will before you were even born!"
