The Man Who Was Watching
Rupert looked over his shoulder.
The man beside the van had the costume right. Black suit. Black coat. White gloves. Polished shoes. The quiet patience of hired service.
But he did not have the face of their driver.
Dennis Price, who had worked for the family for twelve years, had a crooked left shoulder and a cough that arrived before he did. This man stood square and silent, his blue-gray eyes fixed on Rupert with the flat attention of someone waiting for a door to close.
Rupert felt the first thread of cold move through his chest.
"Where is Dennis?" he called.
The fake driver answered too quickly.
"Unwell, sir. I was sent in his place."
No one at Alderwick House spoke like that without first being introduced by the head butler or by Rupert's assistant. No replacement car came without a call. No stranger stood by his van on a voting day without paperwork.
Rupert's hand tightened around the folio.
Mabel tugged again.
"Daddy, please."
That word did what suspicion could not. It made him step back.
A small movement. Barely a movement at all. But the driver's jaw flexed.
Rupert saw it.
At the upper windows, a curtain shifted.
Celia was watching from the second floor.
She stood behind glass in a pale morning dress, one hand resting against the frame. From that distance, her face was unreadable. But Rupert knew her stillness. He had seen it at dinners when she waited for someone else to expose weakness first.
Mabel followed his gaze and began crying harder.
"She told Mrs. Vale to keep me upstairs," the child said. "She said I was being silly. But I heard her last night."
Rupert did not move his eyes from the window.
"What did you hear?"
"She said you only had to get in. She said after that, everyone would believe it was business trouble."
The fake driver took one half step toward them.
Rupert lifted one hand sharply.
"Stay where you are."
May you like
The driver stopped.
The manor, which had looked peaceful seconds ago, seemed suddenly full of hiding places.
