Chapter six
The car arrived at precisely six-thirty, just as Nathaniel promised. Its black frame gleamed like ink under the streetlamps, and the driver sat silent with no greeting beyond a curt nod as he and around to open the door.
Rebecca hesitated on the porch, smoothing the skirt of the one dress she'd brought that seemed even remotely formal. Taylor had stopped by earlier, his voice firm as he reminded her: "Don't go alone." But in the end, she had. She told herself she could handle this. That she had to.
The car rumbled through Hollow's Edge until the square fell away, the cobblestones giving way to a long, winding drive flanked by ancient oaks. At the end, Edgeworth House rose out of the dusk three stories of white columns, its wraparound porch glowing with lamplight, every shutter perfectly painted, every line of the structure stating the power of this family.
The driver opened her door. Rebecca's heels clicked against stone as she stepped out, her breath misting in the cool air.
Nathaniel was waiting at the top of the steps. He was dressed in another dark suit, his storm-gray eyes unreadable as they swept over her.
"Ms. Earl," he said, inclining his head. "My grandmother is eager to meet you."
Eager. The word gave her chills. Although she wasn't sure why.
He offered his arm, and turned and led her into the house.
Rebecca caught his scent. It wasn't cologne, at least not one she was familiar with. It was a blend of cedarwood and smoke, touched with something metallic, like iron.
That was the second time she had smelled that on him. Although she couldn't place its smell, it was familiar.
Inside, Edgeworth House was all polished wood and chandeliers. Oil portraits lined the walls, every painted face sharp-eyed and watchful. Rebecca's steps echoed as Nathaniel guided her into a dining room, where a table stretched nearly the length of the room.
"So," Carolina said, her voice soft tone. "The Weatherman blood returns."
Rebecca swallowed. "My name is Rebecca Earl."
"Names change," Carolina replied. "Blood does not. Please Sit."
Rebecca sat at Nathaniel's side, the silver and crystal glittering before her. The meal smelled wonderful. The kitchen staff started delivering the appetizers.
"Rebecca," "I'm glad you accepted our invitation."
Dr. Greyson Edgeworth entered, silver-haired but upright, his presence instantly easing the tension of this dinner. Rebecca wasn't sure why it was so tense but everytime she glanced in Carolina's direction she was staring a hole into her.
The tension pulled taut across the table. Nathaniel poured Rebecca a glass of wine, his silence louder than words. But Why?
Rebecca's eyes drifted toward a portrait on the far wall a beautiful man with storm-gray eyes like Nathaniel's.
"My son," Greyson said quietly. "Jarred Edgeworth. Nathaniel's father. Taken from us too soon."
Nathaniel frowned "Father died when I was a baby and my Grandfather took me to raise with my grandmother Helen. Helen's been gone 10 years."
Rebecca lifted her eyes from her untouched plate, letting them drift across the table. Carolina sat at the head something in her expression soft but at the same time dark, Nathaniel motionless beside her, Greyson steady but subdued. Every gesture was controlled, every silence carefully measured.
To anyone else, it might have seemed like a portrait of power and composure. But Rebecca's training years of watching patients mask pain, listening for what wasn't said told her something else.
There was sadness here. A deep, unspoken sorrow that hung in the room like smoke.
The weight of the meal pressed heavy, conversation woven with power, silence, and judgment. At last, Greyson rose. "Rebecca, if you would join me in the drawing room. We should discuss your health privately."
"Carolina's eyes narrowed. "She can hear it here."
Greyson smiled faintly. "Some matters are best spoken away from an audience."
The library was warmer, quieter. Bookshelves lined the walls, and a low fire crackled in the background. Greyson closed the door softly, shutting out Carolina's sharp eyes and Nathaniel's watchful silence.
"Rebecca Most of your labs were ordinary," Greyson said gently. "Iron low, dehydration. Nothing alarming that we can't fix."
Rebecca let out a shaky laugh of relief. "Thank Godness."
But Greyson didn't smile. He lowered his voice. "There is something else, Rebecca. Something you did not know."
Her pulse quickened. "What do you mean?
He held her gaze, his eyes kind but unflinching. "You are carrying a child."
The words struck like a thunderclap. Rebecca gripped the arms of her chair, her breath caught in her throat. "That's that's impossible. I would know."
"You are very early," Greyson said, voice soft but certain. The bloodwork showed a level of about 8-10 weeks. I've practiced medicine long enough to trust what I see on a lab report. This pregnancy is real."
When Rebecca returned to the dining room, Carolina's gaze found her instantly, sharp and knowing. Nathaniel's storm-gray eyes softly lingered too long.
Rebecca forced herself into her seat, but the truth pulsed through her veins, heavier than wine. Rebecca frowned "Oh No the wine she would have to ask about
"Come," he said, his voice low, the storm still threaded through it. "Let's take a walk. I'll show you the Edgeworth Estate"
Rebecca was still shaking when Nathaniel offered his hand.
She hesitated. The house pressed in on her from all sides, its walls heavy with portraits. The news of a baby. The thought of stepping into open air was a relief she couldn't deny.
Nathaniel guided her through a side door, and suddenly the night was all around them. The air was cool, tinged with damp earth and the faint sweetness of honeysuckle. Gravel crunched beneath their steps as they descended the wide porch stairs.
The Edgeworth estate opened before her manicured lawns rolling into shadow, ancient oaks rising like guardians, their branches twisting overhead. Beyond them, she caught glimpses of stone outbuildings, their shapes stark against the starlight.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Nathaniel asked, though his tone carried no vanity only fact.
Rebecca drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders. "It feels endless."
Nathaniel agreed. "This land has been ours since before the town had a name. Every stone, every tree remembers."
They passed a fountain, its angelic figure cracked with age. Water spilled in a silver trickle, the sound almost too loud in the hush of night.
Rebecca slowed, her steps faltering. "It feels heavy. Like the ground itself is carrying secrets."
Nathaniel stopped beside her. In the dim light, his profile looked carved from marble, his storm-gray eyes unreadable. "You're not wrong."
Her pulse quickened, though she wasn't sure if it was from fear or something else.
Nathaniel's pace slowed as the gravel path curved past the fountain and into a stand of towering oaks. The night air grew cooler, heavy with damp earth and the faint sweetness of decaying leaves.
Rebecca glanced at her watch. 8:45 p.m. The numbers glowed pale against the darkness. She hadn't realized how quickly the evening had slipped away. The sun was long gone; only stars and the sliver of a moon lit their way.
"Where are we going?" she asked softly, her voice catching in the hush.
Nathaniel's answers "To the place where Hollow's Edge remembers best."
The trees opened into a clearing. At its center stretched a low stone wall, ivy curling along its length. An iron gate stood ajar, its hinges rusted but strong. Beyond, pale headstones gleamed faintly in the dark, their names cut into the silence.
Rebecca shivered. "A cemetery."