Chapter 5 - AUNT BEATRICE'S PERFECT MEMORY
Beatrice Blackwood had an extraordinary memory.
She remembered birthdays.
Anniversaries.
Old scandals.
The names of people who'd offended her at dinners thirty years earlier.
She could recite entire family histories without consulting a document.
Which made her sudden inability to remember why she'd asked Claire for medicine particularly suspicious.
Adrian visited her that afternoon.
She sat in her private sitting room wearing a lavender silk blouse and a pearl necklace.
A small dog slept at her feet.
When Adrian entered, she smiled.
"Darling."
"Aunt Beatrice."
He kissed her cheek.
Then sat opposite her.
"I need to ask you about last night."
Her expression tightened.
"Such an unpleasant business."
"Why did you ask Claire to retrieve your medicine?"
Beatrice blinked.
"My medicine?"
"From the east sitting room."
She looked toward the window.
"I don't remember."
Adrian remained silent.
Beatrice sighed.
"Adrian, I'm an old woman."
"You're seventy-two."
"Exactly."
"You discussed the dosage with her at dinner."
She folded her hands.
"Perhaps."
He watched her carefully.
"Aunt Beatrice, your regular medication is kept in your handbag."
Her smile disappeared.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then she said, "I may have left an extra bottle in the sitting room."
"Did you?"
"I don't remember."
Adrian's voice remained calm.
"Claire says you specifically asked her to retrieve it shortly before the diamonds went missing."
Beatrice lifted her chin.
"Are you accusing me?"
"No."
He paused.
"I'm asking what happened."
Her expression hardened.
"That girl has always been too sensitive."
Adrian went still.
"What?"
Beatrice sighed.
"Claire takes everything personally. Your family has customs. Expectations. She never adapted."
Adrian remembered Claire hosting dinners while guests criticized her clothes.
Remembered his aunt asking her to rearrange flowers moments before important events.
Remembered Claire smiling through exhaustion.
He'd called her patient.
Now he wondered whether he'd simply allowed the family to use her kindness.
"She adapted for four years," he said quietly.
Beatrice looked surprised.
"Adrian."
"And last night, she was publicly accused without sufficient evidence."
His aunt frowned.
"You gave the order."
He closed his eyes.
"Yes."
The word hurt.
Beatrice leaned forward.
"Then perhaps you shouldn't be questioning everyone else."
Adrian looked at her.
"You're right about that."
She blinked.
He continued.
"I am responsible for what I did. And I'm going to apologize to Claire."
Beatrice's expression changed.
"She should apologize to you."
"For what?"
"Walking out."
Adrian stared.
Then said something that shocked them both.
"She had every right."
Beatrice looked away.
A long silence followed.
Then Adrian stood.
"One final question."
She looked up.
"Yes?"
"Did Vincent ask you to send Claire into the sitting room?"
Beatrice froze.
It lasted less than a second.
But Adrian saw it.
Then she said, "I don't recall."
Adrian nodded slowly.
"Thank you."
He turned toward the door.
Behind him, Beatrice spoke.
"Adrian."
He stopped.
"Yes?"
"Your father would never have allowed a wife to embarrass him like this."
Adrian looked back.
For years, he'd measured himself against his father's reputation.
The wealth.
The power.
The ruthlessness.
Now he understood something he'd never questioned before.
His father had been feared.
That didn't mean he'd been right.
"I know," Adrian said.
May you like
Then he left.
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