Chapter 8 - The Departure of CeliaAt four-fifty in the afternoon, the low rumble of a heavy diesel engine echoed up the long gravel driveway of Wrenford Hall.
A black hired Mercedes estate car pulled up to the front portico. The driver got out immediately, walking around to open the rear door.
Celia emerged from the heavy oak front doors of the manor. She walked down the stone steps with the rigid, unbroken posture of a queen leaving a conquered throne. She wore her charcoal blazer, her leather handbag tucked securely under her arm. She didn't pause. She didn't look back at the grand facade of the estate that had borne her family's name for centuries.
From the second-floor library window, Daniel and Mara watched in silence.
Persephone was sitting on the window seat, playing quietly with Barnaby the rabbit, entirely uninterested in her aunt's departure.
Celia slid into the back seat of the Mercedes. The door closed with a muffled, heavy thud. Within seconds, the car turned in a wide semicircle on the gravel sweep, spraying tiny white stones against the grass, and rolled down the avenue of ancient elms toward the main gates.
She was gone.
The silence that filled Wrenford Hall after the car vanished from view was profound. It wasn't the tense, brittle silence of a business holding its breath; it was an expansive, breathing quiet.
"She left her spare desk key on the console table downstairs," Daniel remarked quietly, breaking the stillness.
Mara turned from the window, walking over to wrap her arms around his neck from behind. "Let it sit there. Nobody will ever need it again."
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Daniel turned around in her embrace, burying his face in her hair. "We have to start moving our things down to the cottage before dark. The staff quarters are basic, Mara. There's no central heating in the upper rooms—only old coal hearths."
"We grew up in drafty houses, Daniel," Mara smiled, kissing his cheek. "We'll survive a coal hearth. Besides... it has a fireplace in the kitchen. That's all we need."
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