EVELINA
The moon hung heavy above the Everleigh estate, casting the gardens in a pale, uncertain light. Evelina stood at her bedroom window, hands pressed to the cool glass, watching the shadows move across the courtyard. The air was still, but everywhere she turned there was the sound of small calamities, the shuffling of papers, the murmur of voices she did not recognize, the soft footfall of guests who had come with the King's seal and left with questions.
It had been days since the King's auditors first arrived. Each sunrise had brought a new indignity. Ledgers were taken to be copied. Shipping manifests were examined with a care that felt like accusation. The Everleigh fleet had been told to stay in port until more inquiries were made. Merchants who had once done business with her family now walked past the estate without meeting their eyes.
She tried to name the way it felt. It was like standing under a roof whose beams had been loosened, waiting for the moment the whole thing would give. Her father had paced his study for hours, his calmness fraying at the corners. Her brother Nathan had taken on the fever of constant motion, speaking to stewards and clerks, bartering for time and patience. Even Anna avoided her gaze in the hallways, her face drawn and careful where it had always been warm.
Evelina rubbed the rim of the glass with the heel of her hand until the cold registered through her skin. She wanted to ask for Lucian. She wanted to ask him to stay and to take whatever blows came. He had promised he would find proof, that he would make the forged documents unravel. He had moved with a quiet purpose that made her trust him, but she could not help the tiny, stubborn ache that today might be the day the ripples they had made reached farther than anyone had planned.
A knock sounded at her door. Anna entered, closing it softly behind her. Her hands clutched a folded letter with such careful fingers that Evelina could tell it bore bad news before she read the seal.
"My lady," Anna said. Her voice was small. "A messenger from the palace left this an hour ago. They say the council wishes to question the Marquess further in the morning."
Evelina's mouth tightened. "Will they come here?"
Anna nodded. "They will wish to confer with him in his study. They will not remove him from the house, my lady, but they wish to speak with him without distraction."
Relief and something like dread collided in her chest. Not arrested. Not dragged away. Still, the fact that the King's men were coming to interview her father in private felt like another narrowing of the world. It felt like proof that the threads Montclair had cut were being pulled in a fashion he intended.
"Tell Nathan," she said. "Have him come to study. Do not let the auditors speak with Father alone."
Anna hesitated. "My lady, some say this is a formality. Others say the King himself has signed the orders to freeze trade until further notice. No one seems certain." She placed the letter on the dressing table and touched Evelina's hand, the gesture fleeting. "I will do as you ask."
When the door closed, Evelina wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and went down the hall. Portraits watched her as she passed, paint eyes following her like judgement. The house moved like an animal with a fever. Cooks spoke in clipped phrases. Stable hands argued in worried tones. Pages flitted like anxious birds. It felt as if every corner of the estate heard the whisper of Montclair's name.
In the study, her father stood by the window looking out over the courtyard. He looked smaller than she remembered, though the line of his shoulders remained steady. Nathan was at the desk, a bundle of rolled petitions and ledgers beneath his arm. He met Evelina's eyes with wordless concern and then turned to their father.
"The auditors will arrive at first light," Nathan said. "They sent word that they will examine the accounts from the southern routes. We must have everything in order."
Their father gave a slow nod. "Prepare it. I will not hide anything that proves our innocence."
Evelina moved to his side and laid her hand on his shoulder. He felt tired, but he did not flinch. "Father," she said softly, "Lucian is working. He promised he would find the truth."
Her father's gaze softened. "I know he will do what he can, Evee. But we must also be ready to endure. The court can be swift with condemnation. The King will not risk appearing weak at this moment." He turned, and for a heartbeat she saw the man who had always taught her to keep her chin up. "We show them that our house can bear scrutiny. We answer with paper, with receipts, with every contract signed. We let facts stand where rumours would fall."
Nathan swallowed and ran a hand over his face. "If Montclair has forged documents, then he has done so with skill. We have our records, but if the crown's men take them, the copies could be altered. We must watch every step."
They worked late, their hands moving through stacks of invoices, signatures, and ledgers. The candles burned lower as the night lengthened. Every now and then Evelina would glance up and imagine Lucian poring over the same kinds of proofs in some dim room, tracing a pattern in ink that would expose the forger's hand.
When the household finally quieted, the three of them stood together in the great hall. The moon had risen full and bright, splashing silver over the marble. The silence thrummed with unspoken fear.
"Will the King think us traitors?" she asked, more to the night than to anyone.
Her father's voice was steady. "They will think about what they choose until you give them a reason not to. We must give them that reason."
Nathan squeezed her hand. "We will not let them take the ships. We will not let them ruin the men who rely on those ports. We have friends among the merchants, and we will call them. We will present witnesses before the auditors and show the true ledgers."
Evelina wanted to say she believed him. She wanted to live inside the certainty of his words. Instead she felt the hot burn of doubt in her throat. Her choice to stand with Lucian had been an honest one, but honesty was a fragile armor when the world around it was made of gold and guile.
She walked out to the courtyard. The fountain caught the moonlight and threw it back in trembling light. Petals from the rosebushes drifted like small boats on the water. She sank onto the stone bench and let the cold seep into her bones. The house behind her exhaled with the low noise of people who would not sleep.
Anna found her there a while later, carrying a tray with a pot of tea and two cups. The maid placed it beside her and sat on the edge of the bench, not daring to look too closely at the turmoil that had become Evelina's face.
"They will come tomorrow," Anna said quietly. "I tried to tell the kitchen boys to keep the men quiet. They fear the soldiers will take more than paper. They fear they will take the men who manage the fleets. I… I do not know what he will do if the ships are seized."
Evelina sipped the tea though it had gone cold. "We cannot let that happen."
Anna's chin trembled. "They say Montclair has found a way to make the King's own men believe the paper. They say the Marlowes have promised him the southern dues if he helps. People have started to avoid our dock. Merchants will not risk their cargo if the crown is watching."
Evelina closed her eyes. Each whisper she heard the earlier days had grown teeth. "Perhaps Lucian will find what we need. Perhaps this will end quickly."
Anna's hand found hers. "My lady, even if it ends, it will leave a scar. People will remember their caution more than the truth. It is easier to believe that a noble like your father hid secrets than to admit the court can be so warped."
Evelina opened her eyes. The moon shone down with indifferent light. "I chose to speak out," she said. "I chose to be seen. If this is what comes for being honest, then the choice is still mine."
Anna's mouth quivered into a small, brave smile. "Then you must believe it was the right one."
Dawn came and with it the auditors. Men in robes and chain arrived at the tall doors, polite and precise. The household assembled in the great hall, faces drawn. Nathan stood at the forefront, ready with the ledgers. Evelina watched as men moved through the rooms, their hands on paper and ink, measuring, comparing, copying. The King's men asked questions in a voice that was almost gentle, which made the accusations sting more.
They worked all day. The auditors took notes. They requested copies. They called for witnesses. They also made it clear that the suspension on trade would remain in place until the council reviewed the findings. The ships at the dock remained tethered like beasts waiting for a signal. Men who had come to unload grain and cloth stood idle, watching their livelihoods hang in balance.
At midday one of the auditors found a discrepancy in a ledger not belonging to Everleigh but used in the copies presented earlier at the palace. He frowned and asked for an explanation. Nathan rushed to his side with a neat stack of invoices and proof of signatures. The man read, frowned, and made the same little marks auditors make when the world begins to twist.
Word circled through the staff like a hopeful wind. They had found an inconsistency in the accused documents. It might be small. It might be nothing. But it was the sliver of light they had been praying for. Evelina felt something like hope harden in her chest.
When the auditors took their evening leave, they did so with their faces unreadable. They would report back to the council, and it would be a matter of days before any real move was made. Her father remained free. The King's men had not taken him away. They had interviewed him at length and left, the captain's polite bow a strange mercy.
But the respite felt fragile. It was as if the house had been spared a blow only to be told it must prepare for another. The court's machinery turned on patient gears. Montclair's plots still lingered like a scent. The Marlowes still had favor at the palace. The suspension on trade still stood and might yet become permanent.
That night Nathan and Evelina huddled over the ledgers until candles burned low. Her father slept in his chair by the study fire, his face drawn but proud. Anna moved through the rooms softly, bringing warm broth and a courage that came in quiet gestures.
Evelina thought about the choice she had made beneath the dim light of the candle shop. She stood and said the truth aloud. That truth had bitten them with consequences she could scarcely have imagined. Her family's world teetered, not because she had erred in loving, but because the power that felt threatened by such love was willing to use any instrument to cut it down.
She rose and walked once more to the window. The moon had risen high now, brilliant and indifferent. It cast a narrow path of light across the grounds. She let that line of silver hold her as if it were something she could walk upon.
Whatever would come next, whatever petitions or hearings, whatever bargains the council would strike, she would not unchoose what she had chosen. She had stood for truth, and for now that truth was alive between her and Lucian, fragile and dangerous and real.
Nathan's voice came from behind her, soft and sure. "You did what you believed."
Evelina turned and let herself believe, for a moment, that belief could be a sword as sharp as any accusation. She would call witnesses, she would point to signatures, she would ask allies for the favor they owed her family. If the court would not recognize the value of truth, she would press it into them until it left a mark.
Outside the estate the night held its watch, and beneath the moon she chose to keep vigil for what she had set in motion. The choice beneath that lamp of silver was hers, and she would not shrink from the shape it took.