The carriage halted silently near the service entrance of the vast Warwick manor, avoiding the main driveway. The air in the city was cold and biting, a stark contrast to the stuffy atmosphere of the underground archive.
Darius stepped out first, scanning the tree line. His trusted captain from the City Guard, a stern man named Miller, was waiting discreetly near the stable block, confirming the perimeter was clear.
"We proceed alone," Darius stated to Elenora, his hand resting instinctively on the satchel containing the evidence.
Elenora was already moving, her focus absolute. The fear was gone, replaced by a cold, sharp resolve. She led the way across the manicured grounds toward the far corner of the estate where the Warwick Mausoleum—a gothic, grey stone structure—stood shrouded in morning mist.
They entered the mausoleum through its heavy, bronze doors. The smell of cold marble, dust, and lilies hung heavy in the stale air. It was vast and profoundly silent, lined with cenotaphs and statues of long-dead Warwicks.
"The Weeping Angel is central," Elenora whispered, her voice echoing unnervingly. "It marks the resting place of Lady Isolde, the first Duchess."
The statue was indeed colossal: a figure carved in white marble, veiled and dramatically slumped over a pedestal, her face hidden in sculpted hands. It looked like a tomb, not a hiding place.
* * *
Darius held the small lantern high, casting long, grotesque shadows. He moved slowly around the statue, his boots scraping softly on the polished floor.
"If the final evidence is here, it won't be in a drawer," Darius observed. "It must be hidden within the structure itself."
Elenora knelt before the pedestal, running her gloved fingers over the cold marble. "My father was meticulous. It wouldn't be an obvious lock. It would be a mechanism tied to a specific detail."
She stood up and moved to the statue's back, inspecting the intricate folds of the marble veil. As she did so, Darius's sharp eyes noticed something far more sinister.
"Duchess, stop," Darius commanded, his voice barely a breath.
Elenora froze. "What is it?"
"The air," Darius whispered, his pistol already drawn and pointed towards the shadowed corners. "It's stagnant, but the dust on the floor near the entrance is disturbed. Fresh footprints."
The immediate knowledge that they were not alone—that Montclair's spy had perhaps anticipated this final move—sent a terrifying jolt through Elenora. She was suddenly pinned between the monumental marble statue and Darius's rigid form.
* * *
Darius moved his head slowly, scanning the row of smaller cenotaphs. "They are hiding behind the memorial to Lord Edward. They're waiting for us to find the evidence before they act."
"How many?" Elenora asked, her voice low and tense.
"Two," Darius replied, his pistol steady. "They were smart enough not to engage us in the open. Now, we use the Angel as cover. Find the mechanism, Elenora. Now."
Elenora had to work quickly, fighting the cold fear that gripped her throat. She focused on the Weeping Angel's pedestal again. The cipher mentioned the "Swan's Silent Captain."
She looked closely at the marble folds of the veil. A specific panel was slightly discolored. She pressed on it, but nothing happened. She tried pushing, pulling, even twisting the statue's sculpted hand—all in vain.
"The Captain..." Elenora muttered, trying to connect the code to the physical object. "The Captain is silent. He's dead."
Darius glanced at her, understanding dawning in his eyes. "The Captain is not the statue. He's a name. Search the cenotaphs nearby."
Elenora spun around, checking the brass plaques on the surrounding tombs. She found what she was looking for immediately: a simple plaque bearing the name Captain Silas SWAN, Lost at Sea.
* * *
Elenora realized the mechanism: the monument wasn't locked; it was tied to the Captain's cenotaph.
She pressed hard on the Captain's plaque. A grinding sound echoed through the mausoleum as the massive marble figure of the Weeping Angel began to slowly tilt forward.
The attackers, realizing their plan was ruined, broke cover. Two heavily built men, armed with long, curved daggers, charged across the marble floor toward them.
"Get behind the pedestal!" Darius shoved Elenora violently toward the recess created by the tilting statue.
Darius fired once, the deafening shot echoing off the marble. One attacker staggered, dropping his dagger. Darius used the distraction to tackle the second man, the satchel with the evidence skidding across the floor.
Elenora, crouching behind the pedestal, saw the first attacker recover. He was reaching for the satchel—their entire future—just as the Weeping Angel completed its tilt, revealing a hidden, small stone compartment where its head had rested.
Ignoring Darius's desperate fight, Elenora ignored the dagger-wielding man and lunged for the compartment, her hand closing on a small, leather-bound box hidden within.
"I have it!" she screamed, the box in her hand.
The attacker lunged at her. But Darius, pinning the other man with his weight, delivered a savage blow, momentarily stunning the assailant.
"Run, Elenora! Get out! Go to Miller!" Darius roared, his voice thick with the effort of the fight.
Elenora didn't hesitate. Clutching the box, she bolted out of the dark mausoleum and into the morning sunlight. She had the evidence, but she had left her husband—her enemy—behind to face the ambush alone.