Chapter 5: The Mother They Were Forbidden to Remember
Theron had not spoken his mother's name aloud in months.
Not because he had forgotten Eleanor Viremont, but because his father had spent years making her memory feel like a room no one was allowed to enter.
Eleanor had been warm, quick-witted, and stubborn in the quietest possible way. She remembered the names of household staff. She wrote birthday cards by hand. She could silence Edmund with a single raised eyebrow, though she rarely did it in front of other people.
When Theron was a child, she used to sit with him in the library during thunderstorms.
"Thunder is only the sky moving its furniture," she would tell him.
He had believed her until he was old enough to understand that she was trying to make him laugh.
After she died, the library was renovated. Her favorite chair disappeared. Her letters were packed away, and her photographs gradually vanished from the public rooms.
Edmund said it was best to move forward.
Theron had obeyed.
Now, standing in his study with a handwritten note in his hand, he wondered whether his obedience had cost him more than he knew.
"Seraphina.""
His sister answered on the second ring.
"What's wrong?""
"I need you to come back.""
"Is Eirlys all right?""
"She's fine. I found something.""
He read the note aloud.
For several seconds, Seraphina said nothing.
Then she whispered, "Where did you get that?""
"Inside Eirlys's doll.""
"Don't touch anything else. I'm coming over.""
When she arrived twenty minutes later, she went straight to the study. Theron had placed the note inside a clear document sleeve and set the doll on the desk.
Seraphina examined the paper.
"That handwriting isn't Eirlys's.""
"No.""
"Could it be Mabel's?""
"I don't know.""
She looked at the doll.
"Who gave her this?""
"Corisande bought it last month.""
Seraphina slowly raised her eyes.
"Then either someone placed the note inside the doll after Corisande bought it, or someone knew exactly where it would end up.""
Theron rubbed his jaw.
"Do you remember anything about the months before Mother died?""
Seraphina went very still.
"I was nineteen.""
"I know.""
"You were twenty-four. You were working for Father, traveling constantly. I stayed at the estate more often.""
"What happened?""
She pulled out a chair but did not sit.
"Mother was ill. At least, that's what Father told us. She became tired easily.
Sometimes she'd spend days in her room. The doctors came and went, and Father insisted she needed rest.""
"Did you ever see the doctors?""
"Once. I remember a woman with dark hair and a man carrying a leather case. Father sent me away before they examined Mother.""
Theron felt a knot form in his stomach.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because I thought you knew. You were the one Father spoke to about everything.""
He looked down.
That was true.
Edmund had called Theron into his office when he was seventeen to explain the family business. At twenty-one, he had been introduced to the trustees. By twenty-four, he had been signing contracts on behalf of companies he barely understood.
His father had called it preparation.
Theron had called it trust.
Seraphina finally sat.
"There was one night I remember clearly. Mother asked me to bring her a glass of water. She was sitting by the bedroom window, crying.""
"What did she say?""
"She told me not to let Father choose who I became.""
Theron stared at her.
"Those were her exact words?""
"Yes.""
"Why didn't you tell me that before?""
"Because the next morning, Father told me she had been confused by her medication. He said her illness made her say things she didn't mean.""
Seraphina's fingers curled around the edge of the chair.
"I believed him. I was nineteen, Theron. I wanted to believe him.""
Theron walked to the window.
Beyond the garden, the city stretched beneath a pale afternoon sky.
"What if he lied about her illness?""
"Then we need to find out.""
He turned.
"The recording. The forged amendments. The note. They're connected.""
"Maybe.""
"And if Corisande knew about Mother—"
"Then we need to know how much she knew, and when she knew it.""
Theron called Marcus.
The lawyer arrived an hour later with two colleagues and a list of documents he wanted preserved. He listened to the conversation about Eleanor without interrupting.
When Theron finished, Marcus leaned back.
"We need to separate what we suspect from what we can establish.""
"Fine.""
"The recording may establish that your father and wife discussed the trust. The amendments may establish irregularities. This note establishes that someone wants you to investigate your mother's history.""
"That's a rather elegant way of saying someone is trying to tell me my father lied.""
"It may be. But we shouldn't assume the note is authentic evidence of anything beyond that.""
Marcus opened his notebook.
"Do you have access to your mother's personal papers?""
Theron shook his head.
"Father kept everything after she died.""
Seraphina looked up.
"Not everything.""
Both men turned toward her.
She took a breath.
"Mother gave me a small wooden box when I was eighteen. She told me to keep it somewhere safe. I thought it held old photographs.""
"Where is it?"" Theron asked.
"In my apartment. I've never opened it.""
"Why not?""
Seraphina's eyes filled.
"Because she made me promise not to open it until I was ready to hear the truth.""
The silence that followed was heavy.
Marcus closed his notebook.
"Then I suggest you retrieve it. But don't examine or discard anything. If it contains documents relevant to the trust or your mother's death, we'll need to preserve them carefully.""
Seraphina nodded.
She left immediately.
Theron returned to Eirlys's room, where Mabel was helping the child choose a bedtime story.
The little girl sat cross-legged on the bed, her rabbit tucked beneath one arm.
When Theron appeared, she held up the golden-haired doll.
"Daddy, she's better now.""
He smiled.
"She certainly is.""
Eirlys studied him.
"Are you going to see Grandpa?""
"Tomorrow.""
"Can I come?""
Theron sat on the edge of the bed.
"Not this time, sweetheart.""
"Why?""
"Because Grandpa and I need to talk about some grown-up things.""
She frowned.
"About the doll?""
He blinked.
"What makes you think that?""
Eirlys shrugged.
"Mommy said Grandpa makes all the rules.""
Theron looked at Mabel.
The housekeeper's face had gone pale.
"Did Corisande say anything else?"" he asked quietly.
Mabel glanced at Eirlys.
"Not in front of her, sir.""
"Then tell me later.""
Eirlys tugged at his sleeve.
"Daddy?""
"Yes?""
"If Grandpa makes the rules, can he make Mommy stop being mean?""
Theron took her small hand.
"Grandpa doesn't get to decide how other people treat you.""
"But he decides everything.""
The words sounded memorized.
Theron felt a sharp wave of anger, but he forced it down.
"Not everything, little bird. And he certainly doesn't get to decide whether you're loved.""
Eirlys considered this.
Then she crawled beneath the covers and asked him to read about a rabbit who built a house in the woods.
Theron read the story twice.
After she fell asleep, he found Mabel waiting in the hallway.
She looked frightened.
"Mr. Viremont, there's something I should have told you.""
He waited.
"Mrs. Viremont used to take Miss Eirlys to the east wing when you were away. She told the staff it was for music lessons.""
Theron frowned.
"There's no music room in the east wing.""
"I know, sir.""
"Then why did she go there?""
Mabel clasped her hands.
"Because Mr. Edmund kept a private office there. Mrs. Viremont would meet him, and sometimes they argued.""
Theron stared at her.
"How long has this been happening?""
"Since last winter.""
"Did Eirlys go with them?""
"Sometimes.""
"Why didn't you tell me?""
Mabel lowered her head.
"Mrs. Viremont said you knew. She said it was family business, and if I interfered, I'd lose my position.""
Theron closed his eyes.
Another warning he had missed.
Another quiet corner of his home where someone had been teaching his daughter to fear the wrong things.
"Did you ever hear what they discussed?""
"Once.""
Mabel swallowed.
"Mrs. Viremont asked Mr. Edmund whether the papers were safe. He told her that as long as you believed your mother had been sick, nobody would question the past.""
Theron felt the blood drain from his face.
"What did Corisande say?""
"She said, 'And the girl?''"
Mabel's voice shook.
"Mr. Edmund said, 'The girl is the key. When the time comes, everything will belong to the right people.''"
Theron gripped the doorframe.
"What time?""
"I don't know, sir.""
"Did you tell anyone else?""
"No.""
"Why are you telling me now?""
Mabel looked toward Eirlys's bedroom.
"Because I heard Miss Eirlys crying last night. She asked me whether she could be sent away if she was naughty.""
Her eyes filled.
"I have worked in this house for twenty-two years. I have seen many things. But I cannot watch that child grow up believing she has to earn the right to be safe.""
Theron could not speak for several seconds.
Then he nodded.
"Thank you, Mabel.""
She wiped her eyes.
"There's something else, sir.""
He looked up.
"Mrs. Viremont received a package yesterday morning. Before the incident at the pool. She told me to put it in the locked cabinet in her dressing room.""
"What was inside?""
"I don't know. But when I brought it upstairs, I saw a name on the label.""
"Whose?""
Mabel hesitated.
"Dr. Julian Vale.""
Theron knew the name.
Dr. Julian Vale had been the physician who signed Eleanor's death certificate.
He had retired shortly afterward and moved overseas.
Theron had not heard from him in more than twenty years.
He looked toward the staircase.
"Where is the package now?""
"In Mrs. Viremont's dressing room.""
Theron turned to go.
But before he reached the stairs, his phone rang.
Seraphina.
Her voice was breathless.
"I found the box.""
"What's inside?""
"Photographs, letters, a bank statement, and a sealed envelope addressed to you.""
Theron stopped walking.
"Read it.""
"I haven't opened it.""
"Why not?""
"Because the front says something else.""
"What?""
Seraphina was silent for a moment.
Then she read the words aloud.
*For Theron, when he finally learns that his mother did not die from the illness his father described.*
Theron stared into the dark hallway.
For twenty years, he had believed his mother had died because her body had failed her.
Now, for the first time, he wondered whether someone had made certain she would never tell the truth.
And as Seraphina began to open the envelope, the first thing she saw was a date.
It was dated three days before Eleanor Viremont died.
May you like
Beneath it, in his mother's unmistakable handwriting, were six words.
*Your father knows what he did.*
