Warwick Manor was still asleep in the pre-dawn gloom, save for the quiet flicker of oil lamps in the library's archive wing. Neither of the newlyweds had slept. Elenora wore a plain, dark working dress, her pale lavender-blonde hair pulled back in a severely practical manner. Darius was in his usual severe black attire, looking like a shadow refusing to disappear.
The tension between them was palpable, a chilling fog hanging thick in the air. They hadn't exchanged a single word about the harsh kiss of the wedding night, focusing instead on the pile of ancient documents Darius had pulled from her father's secret archives.
Elenora began sorting through the boxes containing the old Duke's correspondence. "These documents are chronologically arranged, Minister. What exactly are you looking for?"
"The word Elmsworth, or anything that should not be there," Darius replied, opening a faded leather-bound ledger. "Unregistered deeds, unacknowledged properties. Your father owned more than he claimed."
Their movement in the archive was a precise reflection of their marriage: a compulsory partnership of cold efficiency. Elenora knew the system like the back of her hand, but Darius possessed the analytical mind to connect the threads that her emotional detachment missed.
* * *
An hour of silence, broken only by the rustling of paper, passed before Elenora was forced to approach him. She was searching for a secret title deed, and Darius required the light of her lamp to read the faint handwriting in an ancient register.
"Here," Elenora said, placing the lamp on their shared table edge. "These are the records for properties never declared to the Crown. Anything odd?"
Darius did not reply. His focus was entirely on the open register. They were close enough that Elenora could feel the warmth of his shoulder beneath his coat. The scent of rain and pine still clung to his clothes.
"It's not property," Darius finally murmured, his finger tracing the margin of the page. "It's a list of names. Some families, some coded symbols... and this note."
He pointed to a handwritten scrawl, seemingly made in haste with a faded pencil.
"Elmsworth deed transferred. Winter Garden Depot."
"The Winter Garden?" Elenora repeated, her heart suddenly accelerating. "I have never heard of it. Is it an estate name?"
"Not a property listed in the Crown's records," Darius replied, carefully folding the register. "But in these older papers, some properties were designated as secret refuges during the civil wars. They were often given romantic names to conceal their function."
Darius set the register aside and raised his eyes to meet her gray ones. "The threat isn't just a message; it's a place. Your father transferred the deed of a murdered family and hid it in a secret location called The Winter Garden."
* * *
Elenora took a step back, leaning against the edge of a bookcase. Now that the awkwardness of the wedding night had vanished under the weight of discovery, her usual severity returned.
"You are pursuing a very thin lead, Minister," she said icily. "Why the haste? You could have asked for my help in the search, instead of forcing a Duchess into marriage with vague security threats."
Darius looked at her for a long moment, not with anger, but with painful honesty. "Because I didn't trust you. And I certainly do not trust any noble in this manor. Had I simply asked, the information would have leaked before it left my mouth. But now, as your husband, I have absolute authority here. And you, as my wife, are bound to my loyalty."
He suddenly softened his tone, giving a hint of grudging admiration. "Besides, you are the only one capable of carrying the weight of this truth without crumbling. You are the only one I can trust in this fight, even if you are my enemy. Because you defend your legacy with the same ferocity I defend my position."
"Very well," Elenora conceded, swallowing her harsh pride. "If 'The Winter Garden' is the depot, it may contain whatever the people who destroyed the carriage were looking for. We must go there."
"That was my next sentence," Darius offered with a quick, uncomfortable smile. "But this is not a trip for a royal carriage. We leave now, secretly. No one should know the newlyweds are abandoning their wedding night for a forgotten locale."
* * *
Darius and Elenora ascended to the joint master suite for the last time. There was no time to change clothes; each packed a small satchel with traveling necessities.
In her bedroom, Elenora looked at the heavy gold wedding ring on her finger. It felt as though the cold metal had become part of her bone. This marriage, this partnership with her enemy, was faster and more violent than she had ever imagined.
When she emerged, Darius was waiting at the suite door. He held a heavy traveling coat for her, and a tightly folded map.
"Are you ready to see what your father hid from the Crown and from you?" Darius asked, his storm-gray eyes gleaming in the gloom.
Elenora did not reply with words. Instead, she donned the coat he offered and nodded curtly.
In absolute silence, they slipped through the manor's dark corridors, exiting through the servants' back gate. A simple, unmarked carriage awaited them.
Darius climbed in first, then helped Elenora up. This time, the touch of their hands was not a performance for the public; it was simply the reality of two people traveling into the unknown.
The carriage sped onto a muddy country road, away from the lights of London. The Minister and the Duchess had left their shared golden cage, heading towards a winter garden that might be a tomb for them both.