Chapter 7
The key Claribel fought so hard to keep was not the blue-room key.
That surprised me.
It opened my mother’s old sewing cabinet.
Agnes knew.
Inside were letters from my mother, Cecilia.
To Seraphine.
Never sent.
Again.
This family was addicted to unsent truth.
Mother had known Seraphine survived.
Not immediately.
Six months later.
She confronted Father.
He told her the separation was already “settled.”
Seraphine had accepted money.
I had accepted death.
Better not reopen wounds.
Mother disagreed.
Then did nothing.
That contradiction hurt more because I loved her.
One letter:
Seraphine, I tell myself Augustus would destroy Ronan if this came out now. The truth is I am frightened of destroying my marriage by opposing him.
There.
No heroic mother.
Human.
Another:
I watched my husband take your voice and then convinced myself silence preserved the family.
Then:
If Agnes ever finds courage before I do, listen to her.
Agnes cried when I read that aloud.
She had waited fifteen years to hear that her silence had been seen.
Not forgiven.
Seen.
Then one final note addressed to me:
Lachlan, if you find these after I am gone, do not punish only the loudest liar. Ask which quiet people helped the lie survive.
That included her.
Agnes.
Myself.
Everyone who did not ask enough questions.
Truth was becoming less satisfying.
Good.
May you like
Simple villains are emotionally convenient.
Families rarely provide them.
