Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Betty and Amelia stood at the bottom of the loft ladder, peering upwards into the shadowy space beyond the hatch. The floorboards creaked faintly as Clemmie shuffled about above them, her voice drifting down in muffled bursts.
‘What exactly am I looking for again?’ Clemmie’s voice echoed faintly in the space, the words punctuated by the soft thuds of her shifting boxes and old trunks.
‘It’s a cardboard box,’ Betty called back, cupping her hands around her mouth. ‘Should be labelled simply “Earl of Aberford”. It’s not too big, I don’t think. Your great-great-grandmother was very particular about labelling things.’
‘If it’s so particular, why’s it buried under all this?’ Clemmie grumbled under her breath. ‘Honestly, there’s a century’s worth of dust up here. I’ll be sneezing for days.’
‘Do you need some help?’ Betty called up, craning her neck.
‘No, no. I’m fine. I’ve just got to… Oh, hang on… What’s this?’ Clemmie’s voice grew sharper, edged with curiosity. ‘It’s a suitcase. Feels empty though. Not what we’re after.’
‘Keep looking,’ Betty urged.
The floorboards creaked again as Clemmie moved further into the loft. A thud followed as she tripped and crashed to the ground and muttered, ‘Oops. Sorry about that!’
‘What was that?’ Betty demanded.
‘Nothing important,’ Clemmie replied quickly. ‘I think it was just an old lamp.’ There was a pause, then, ‘Oh, here we go. There’s a box with writing on it. It’s … oh…’
‘What?’ Betty’s voice sharpened with anticipation. ‘What is it?’
Clemmie’s voice dropped into something almost reverent as she picked up the box. ‘This must be it.’
Her footsteps grew slower and more deliberate as she approached the hatch. In her hands she held a box, small enough to cradle but heavy enough to make her arms strain slightly.
‘I’m coming down.’ Carefully, she passed the box down to Betty, who received it as if it were made of porcelain.
Clemmie climbed down the ladder slowly. When she reached the floor, the three women stood in a triangle, the box resting between them on an old wooden table.
The writing on the lid was faint but legible.
‘Why would Great-great-granny have a box labelled “Earl of Aberford”?’ Clemmie asked, her voice low.
Betty didn’t answer immediately. She was staring at the box as though it might spring open of its own accord. Her lips moved silently, as though debating with herself.
Amelia shifted uncomfortably, taking a step back. ‘I should leave. This feels … personal.’
‘No,’ Betty said firmly, shaking her head. ‘Stay.’
‘Granny, with all due respect, at some point this box would have been opened. If not by us, then by someone clearing out the loft years from now. If it holds any kind of secrets, surely it should be us who discover them.’
Betty’s brow furrowed, her eyes still locked on the box. ‘It’s not that simple, Clemmie. My mother was adamant. I don’t know what’s in there, but I do know she believed it shouldn’t be disturbed.’
‘But why?’ Clemmie countered, her voice rising slightly. ‘Why would she have a box with such a cryptic label if it wasn’t meant to be opened? That doesn’t make any sense. Do you think this actually has something to do with the Earl of Aberford, or the scandal that led him to disappear?’
Amelia glanced between them, clearly curious despite her discomfort. ‘Maybe it’s not as dramatic as you think,’ she offered.
Clemmie shook her head. ‘No. This feels important. Granny, please. Whatever’s in this box, we deserve to know. You deserve to know.’
Betty hesitated, her fingers brushing the edge of the box.
From her expression she was torn, her conscience warring with her curiosity.
Finally, she exhaled heavily. ‘You’re right,’ she said quietly.
‘If it’s been hidden away all these years, it’s time someone knew the truth and if anyone should open it, it should be us. ’
They headed towards the living room and placed the box on the coffee table. Betty reached out, her hands trembling slightly as she unfastened the string. Everyone held their breath as Betty opened the lid.