Page 14 of Tears of Gold

“I had lunch with Peter just days ago. A man who lives in a museum with nothing of his own was not sitting across the table from me.”

I sit down on the bed. This isn’t right. This place isn’t a home. The heating isn’t even on despite the fact it’s a chilly October day. Absentmindedly, I pull on the bedside cabinet drawer. I’ve already looked in here and found it empty of anything other than a manly manicure kit—I didn’t even know such things existed. The room is empty apart from the furnishings and a handful of Tom Ford suits hanging in the walk-in closet.

“Eli, how many suits do you have in the Mews?”

He shakes his head; his temper is fraying. I can sense it even from ten paces away. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his jeans, his face pale beneath his bruises. “I don’t know. More than I should. Twenty?”

I slide the drawer again, lost deep in thought until Eli cuts through my musings. “Faith, let's get back to Bowsley. I don’t want to leave Tabs by herself, it’s not fair on her.”

I sigh. “Sure. We should tell Miss Beesley we won’t be staying.” I’m turning when I spot a small white envelope stuck to the inside of the drawer. Leaning down, I peel the square from where it’s stuck out of sight.

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know.” I stare at it trying to make sense of the scrawl. “It’s addressed to you.”

Eli steps closer, sitting on the bed next to me, his weight dipping the mattress. “Here.” I pass it over into his outstretched hand.

His lips purse as he opens it and unfolds a piece of thick cream paper. “It’s a note from Peter with an address.”

“What does it say?”

He coughs, clearing his throat, and his fingers shake until the piece of paper is fluttering like ruffled feathers in a breeze.

“To my prodigal brother. I’m sorry. I know one day you will understand.” He pauses, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Uh, then there is just an address.” He studies it for a moment. “I know this address. Peter asked me to get a colleague to help with some conveyancing. It was for a friend who wanted to make sure the sale of the property went through quicker than usual. I think some palms were greased.”

“Now that sounds like Peter.” I offer Eli a small smile and a smile spreads on his own face.

“Yeah, it does.” He chuckles. “Why has he left me a letter here? There is literally nothing else in this whole house.”

“I’m going to go and ask Miss Beesley.” I stand.

“Faith, it’s probably nothing.”

I shrug. “I doubt very much that your brother would leave you a note apologising for something if it wasn’t for a reason. So, there's only one way to find out.”

We find the housekeeper in the sitting room, which is palatial and extravagant in cream and gold. She’s laying a silver tea service out on a walnut coffee table. “Sorry for the delay in your refreshments, Mr Fairclough. I realised the milk wasn’t right and sent out for more.”

I stare at her. Her cheeks are red, her hair not as smooth and as angled as when we arrived. She didn’t send anyone for milk. There is no one else here.

The penny drops.

“Peter didn’t live here, did he?” I say.

Elijah’s gaze falls onto the note in his hand and his mouth pops open a little. “Miss Beesley?” he prompts.

“I just do what I’m asked to do. That’s what good housekeepers do.”

Eli nods understandingly. He’s about to take to the floor and interview a witness for the court. I can sense it. “Of course. You are a wonderful housekeeper. How long have you been here?”

“Ten years.”

“And you love Peter? You are loyal to him?”

Her cheeks redden, but she juts out her chin. “I love this house, and yes.” Her voice cracks a little. “I’m loyal to Peter, he’s a kind boss.”

Eli’s shoulders relax. “But he didn’t live here. You’ve been keeping up the pretence for him? Hiding it from everyone, even me?”

She shakes her head. “He slept here on Monday’s and Tuesday’s. He said he didn’t like me rattling around the place by myself.”