In Magician's Embrace [BOOK 1 of Price Family Saga]

56. Chapter (What Was Hidden In The Chest)

My Dearest Rose,

I pen this letter to you, for in our vast and sprawling family, it is only you whom I trust wholeheartedly. Your kind heart remains untainted, even by the darkness that shrouds the devil you call your husband. I pray that my plan has unfolded as intended and that it is your eyes that grace these words, lest my demise be in vain. And I understand the yearning within your soul to know the truth of my untimely end and the events that led to it. First and foremost, I must express my deepest remorse for doubting the Duke of Hertfordshire, John Price. He, too, is a man of noble character, driven by familial devotion. Yet, unlike his forebears, he possesses a strong moral compass. You can place your trust in him. And if fate should deliver this missive into John's hands, I beseech you, dear John, forgive my actions. In a moment of weakness, I chose to withhold the truth, a decision that now threatens my very life.

Let me recount the tale from its inception when the esteemed Duke John Price entrusted me with the task of retrieving a treasured chest. Through my extensive research and published works on noble lineages, including the illustrious Cox, Wallanger, and Rivers families, my access to esteemed circles was unparalleled. It did not take long for me to deduce that the coveted chest lay within the ancient walls of Taverley Castle. How did this revelation come to pass, you may wonder? I immersed myself in the chronicles of the Rivers family, whose cunning ancestor, Thomas Rivers, delighted in securing the chest's safekeeping under the dominion of the very first possessor of those ancestral estates—the royal lineage itself. Though the present Duke of Kent may stand somewhat distant from the throne, he remains within striking distance, for as history has proven, the caprices of destiny know no respite.

Nevertheless, a carefully constructed ruse was necessary to entice Kent's pursuit of the chest, while guarding its contents from prying eyes. Given his affinity for my literary works, it proved no arduous task to persuade him into action, contingent upon my pledge to compensate him in the event of failure. Fortuitously, the chest was discovered, and with little resistance, he relinquished it into my care. Yet, his subsequent inquiries concerning the chest's origin and its hidden truths bore heavy consequences. It was on a fateful day that I discovered my notes, which chronicled my pursuit, had vanished, unbeknownst to me that Kent had surreptitiously purloined them. In due course, he returned, demanding answers and brandishing his intentions to blackmail.

Witnessing my unyielding spirit, he dispatched his trusted confidant, Gareth, to unleash torment upon me. It was under the cloak of darkness that he struck, his blow leaving a mark upon my countenance as I returned from the hallowed halls of the library. He menaced me with threats of my early demise, coercing the surrender of the chest. My nights were consumed by restlessness, and I dwelt in perpetual fear, for any lapse in vigilance might lead to the loss of that which I held dear.

One ill-fated day, Gareth ransacked my abode, yet fortune smiled upon me, as he failed to lay his hands upon the chest. Desperation drove me to seek the protection of Bow Street Runners, only to be met with derision from the magistrate Gibson, who deemed an escort unnecessary for a man of my years. Alas, I could not divulge the true purpose of my request, for the fewer individuals are privy to the chest's existence, the greater our chances of success. It was then, dearest Rose, that clarity dawned upon me. You, and you alone, hold the key to my salvation, and a swift journey to London is imperative.

Yet, how does one navigate the treacherous path when your husband is a man of coarse disposition, unlikely to grant you such liberty?

During the most trying of times, it was my fair and clever maid, Lynette, who provided me solace and fortitude. I know not what merits such kindness, but were it not for her, I would not have endured in this realm for as long as I have. Our bond was one of genuine friendship, and with each passing day, I discovered her trustworthiness. This is quite a testament, considering my lack of trust even in my own shadow. Alas, I shall forever reproach myself for entangling her in this intricate web of old transgressions. I pray, as you peruse these lines, dearest Rose, that Lynette Morris remains in good health and secure. She deserves no harm, for it was her timely presence at the right place, though the wrong time for her own welfare, that led to these unfortunate circumstances.