CHAPTER 23
OLD INK
The first thing Pattern House received after Marcus Fenn’s arrest was not an apology.
It was a letter.
The subject line was almost offensively plain.
POLICE CLARIFICATION: ASTERLEIGH RECTORY.
She opened it.
Leo came through the front door carrying two bakery bags.
“You’re early.”
“So are you.”
“I own the building.”
“That is not how time works.”
Romy raised one hand.
He stopped.
“What?”
She read the message again.
After three weeks of caveats, provisional findings, legal wording, and people protecting themselves with careful verbs, the clarity felt unfamiliar.
DI Ellis Harwood confirmed that the approved conservation arrangement in the Blue Study had been correctly installed and documented before the preview.
The ventilation spacer had remained intact after Pattern House’s final inspection.
The fatal condition resulted from deliberate later interference.
There was no evidence that Pattern House’s conservation work caused or contributed to Sebastian Pryce’s death.
Romy sat down.
Leo’s expression changed immediately.
“Is that it?”
She turned the screen toward him.
He read it twice.
His shoulders dropped.
“Oh.”
A small sound.
More affecting than celebration.
Romy had expected triumph when this moment arrived. Instead the office became ordinary.
Morning light across the samples.
Dust on the top shelf.
Leo’s scarf hanging from the back of a chair.
The kettle Mavis Orme still distrusted.
Pattern House had not transformed.
It had survived long enough for fact to catch up.
Leo looked at her.
“You’re cleared.”
“We’re cleared.”
His face did that quick pleased thing he tried to hide.
Romy noticed.
Said nothing.
He put down the bakery bags.
“I bought almond croissants.”
“Good.”
“And cinnamon knots.”
“Excellent.”
“And one plain roll because you complain about sugar.”
“I complain about balance.”
“You ate lemon cake at a police station.”
“That was an emergency.”
Romy read the final paragraph.
Police authorized her to provide the clarification to her insurer, clients, and professional advisers.
No restriction on disclosure of Pattern House’s non-involvement.
No mechanism details.
No suspect evidence.
Only the part she had wanted from the beginning.
Her work had not failed.
Someone had attacked the room after she left it correct.
Romy forwarded the statement to the insurer.
Then her solicitor.
Then the two postponed clients.
Then Malcolm.
She hesitated before sending it to Elin.
Too many things between them had been built around accusation, proof, and what happened after public certainty arrived too early.
Romy sent it anyway.
No message.
Only the attachment.
Leo slid an almond croissant toward her.
“Breakfast.”
“You’re becoming bossy.”
“Workplace culture.”
Her insurer called before nine.
Not emailed.
Called.
Romy answered while Leo pretended not to listen from four feet away.
The underwriter was brisk.
Professional.
Entirely unromantic about survival.
They had reviewed the police clarification and supporting documentation.
The temporary restriction on occupied public buildings was lifted with immediate effect.
Full professional-indemnity coverage reinstated.
No additional premium adjustment pending the routine annual review.
Romy wrote the words on a pad even though written confirmation arrived while they were still speaking.
FULL COVERAGE REINSTATED.
After the call, she remained still.
Leo looked over.
“Well?”
Romy turned the pad.
He grinned.
Not politely.
Fully.
“Can I tell Nina?”
“You may tell Nina.”
“Can I tell everyone?”
“No.”
“How many people count as everyone?”
“More than Nina.”
He was already typing.
Romy’s phone rang again.
Nell Ashby.
Of course.
“Good morning,” Nell said.
“That sounds dangerous.”
“I deserve that.”
“Yes.”
Nell accepted it.
“The committee has released your outstanding invoice.”
Romy stopped.
“All of it?”
“Yes.”
“No retained portion.”
“No.”
“No review.”
“No.”
“When?”
“Transfer authorized this morning.”
Romy checked the business account.
The payment had not landed yet.
Still, it was moving.
For the first time in days, money was moving toward Pattern House instead of away from it.
Nell continued.
“We are issuing the revised statement at ten.”
“Using my edits?”
“Yes.”
“Without contained.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
A pause.
“Romy.”
“Yes.”
“I handled this badly.”
Too direct.
It gave Romy nowhere comfortable to put her anger.
Nell continued.
“I was frightened about Asterleigh, the sale, and the debt. I let that make me cautious in places where caution hurt you.”
“You froze my invoice.”
“I know.”
“You let the public implication stand.”
“I know.”
“You removed a structural report after Sebastian died.”
A longer silence.
“I know.”
Romy looked toward the window.
“Police clearing Pattern House does not clear everything else.”
“I understand.”
“Good.”
Nell’s voice softened.
“For what it is worth, I am glad Pattern House survived.”
“So am I.”
That was enough.
She ended the call.
Leo stood with two mugs.
“Nina says celebration dinner.”
“No.”
“She says not optional.”
“Still no.”
“She says Anika is coming.”
Romy looked at him.
“When did Anika become included in my social life?”
“Apparently today.”
“That is concerning.”
“Ellis?”
Leo asked too casually.
Romy looked at him.
“No.”
“You answered very fast.”
“He is working.”
“I only asked whether he was coming.”
“And I answered.”
Leo turned away with his mug.
Romy stared at his back.
“Do not become observant in personal matters.”
“That seems difficult given the placement.”
“Leo.”
“I said nothing.”
The key came after lunch.
Romy had not planned it.
That was why it mattered.
They were standing by the materials cupboard when Leo said, “My placement review is next week.”
“Yes.”
“You remember.”
“I run the placement.”
“I know.”
He looked toward the desk.
“I want to stay.”
Romy paused.
“Finish the placement?”
“Yes.”
“That is generally how placements work.”
“I mean after.”
Romy looked at him properly.
Leo’s confidence had changed since Asterleigh.
Not grown into arrogance.
Settled.
He no longer asked permission to have useful ideas.
He still asked permission before touching evidence.
Better distinction.
“What do you mean after?”
“Part-time, if you need someone.”
Pattern House’s bank account was improved.
Not miraculous.
The released invoice helped.
Full coverage helped more.
Two delayed clients had already replied asking to reschedule.
Work existed.
Possibly enough.
“We would need to discuss hours.”
“I know.”
“And pay.”
“I know.”
“And what work you are actually qualified to do without supervision.”
“I know.”
“And further training.”
“I know.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“You have prepared for this.”
“Yes.”
“Annoying.”
“I thought you’d respect planning.”
“I do. I resent it when used against me.”
Leo smiled.
Romy went to the drawer beside her desk and opened it.
Inside was a spare Pattern House key.
Plain brass.
Small green plastic tag.
She had ordered three when she first took the premises.
One for herself.
One emergency spare with Nina.
One unused.
Romy picked it up.
Leo stopped smiling.
She held it out.
“What is that?”
“A key.”
“I can see that.”
“Then your placement is working.”
He did not take it.
“Romy.”
“If you are staying, I am not arranging my mornings around whether you are locked outside.”
“You mean.”
“I mean you can open Pattern House.”
His hand closed around the key carefully, as if metal could break.
“Do not lose it.”
“I won’t.”
“Do not give it to Nina.”
“She already has one.”
“That is not the point.”
“Do not duplicate it.”
“I know.”
“Do not use the office at midnight because you decide an archive spreadsheet is exciting.”
He looked guilty enough that Romy stopped.
“You were already planning that.”
“No.”
“Leo.”
“Not midnight.”
She sighed.
Then smiled despite herself.
He looked at the green tag.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
No joke.
No retreat.
Pattern House had another keyholder.
The thought frightened Romy.
It also felt correct.
At four, Ellis arrived carrying two archive boxes.
Romy looked at them.
“My records.”
“Your copied project records.”
“You kept them long enough.”
“Murder investigations are inconvenient.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Leo came out from the back room wearing his coat.
“I’m going to Nina’s.”
Romy frowned.
“It is four.”
“She needs help moving two tables before dinner.”
“You work here.”
Leo held up the key.
“Apparently.”
Romy looked at Ellis.
He had seen.
His expression changed almost imperceptibly.
Approval, perhaps.
Romy disliked how easy it had become to notice.
Leo left.
The office became quieter.
Ellis set the boxes on the worktable.
“Everything listed on the return sheet.”
Romy checked the top folder.
Blue Study installation copies.
Photographic schedules.
Condition reports.
Email printouts.
The paperwork that had nearly become evidence against her and then helped prove the opposite.
“You could have sent an officer.”
“Yes.”
“But you came.”
“Yes.”
Romy looked at him.
He looked back.
The silence altered.
Not dramatically.
That would have been easier.
It became warmer.
More aware.
Ellis put both hands into his coat pockets.
“Coverage reinstated?”
“This morning.”
“Good.”
“Asterleigh paid.”
“Also good.”
“Two clients came back.”
“Very good.”
She smiled.
“You sound almost happy for me.”
“I am happy for you.”
That landed without defense.
Romy looked down at the records because otherwise she would have had to decide what to do with his face.
He continued.
“You did good work.”
“On Asterleigh?”
“On the case.”
“Careful. I’ll put that in marketing material.”
“You are impossible.”
“So I’m told.”
Neither moved.
Romy became aware of ridiculous details.
Rain marks on Ellis’s coat shoulder.
A tear in the cardboard archive box.
The coffee machine clicking as it cooled.
His hand close to hers on the folder.
Too close to be accidental?
No.
Useless.
Romy moved the box.
Ellis moved at the same time.
Their knuckles touched.
Barely.
Both stopped.
The pause lasted one second longer than professional necessity.
Then Ellis stepped back.
Romy picked up a return sheet she did not need.
“Thank you for bringing these.”
“Of course.”
Excellent.
Terrible.
He looked toward the door.