Page 45 of When You're Forgotten

Right as blackness threatened to claim him, a flash of movement behind them: Amelia leapt forward, adrenaline fueling her half-lucid form.She kicked Edwin in the back of his skull, the blow snapping his head forward.He collapsed with a grunt.Mrs.Hughes spun, raising the paperweight again, but Amelia slammed her aside into the nearest wall.The older woman slid down, breath leaving her in a harsh gasp.

Finncoughed, blinking away the swirling colors of near-unconsciousness.Amelia crouched over him, helping him sit up.Her hair hung loose, eyes blazing with fierce relief.“Are you okay?”

He nodded, ignoring the throbbing in his skull.“Better than them.”He got unsteadily to his feet, retrieving Edwin’s rifle.He ejected the remaining shells from the chamber, letting them clatter to the floor.“Thanks… for that rescue.”

Amelia offered a wan smile, swallowing.“I was in a horrible daze from the chloroform, but I came to when I heard that… scream from outside.Must’ve jolted me.Then you were in trouble.Couldn’t let them kill you.I am quite fond of you, you know.”

They locked eyes, exhausted but alive.Then Finn’s memory flashed: the scream—someone else was in danger.“Marianne,” he blurted.“We heard her scream...Or someone else.She might be in trouble.”

He turned to see Richard and Jenna’s bodies sprawled in a pool of blood, Mrs.Hughes and Edwin moaning on the floor.A wave of nausea hit him.Amelia, swallowing hard, helped him secure the conspirators.They cuffed Edwin and Mrs.Hughes to a radiator pipe with a pair of improvised restraints from Finn’s and Amelia’s pockets, ignoring their curses and pleas.

“Where is Marianne?”Finn said, to Mrs Hughes.“If you have any feeling for her…”

“She’s in her bedroom, upstairs to the east wing,” Mrs Hughes said looking defeated.

They exchanged a look, then sprinted from the study into the corridor.The house lay in darkness.Their footsteps echoed as they raced through the halls, ascending the main staircase once again.On the next level, they hastened down a long corridor to a heavy oak door—the entrance to Marianne’s suite.

The door stood ajar, revealing a lamp-lit interior.Finn slowed, heart pounding.He slid the door open fully, stepping in with Amelia at his side.The room smelled faintly of perfume and damp sheets.The large four-poster bed dominated the space, curtains drawn.A figure sat upright in the bed under a white sheet.

Finnapproached warily, calling, “Marianne?”But there was no reply.He lifted a corner of the sheet and pulled it down, a chill skittering up his spine.Beneath it was Marianne, wide-eyed in death.A mask of terror warped her once-refined features, mouth half-open as if caught mid-scream.

Amelia’s hand flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp.“Oh God… She’s… dead,” she whispered, stepping back.“Why?”

Finn felt his stomach twist, and then a speculative thought drifted through him."She was part of the conspiracy, so I guess someone or something turned on her."

Amelia gazed at Marianne’s contorted expression in horrified fascination.“How was she?”

"Marianne was the one who fired Donald, so he wasn't here tonight," Finn explained."And I will bet the farm on Hobbs the driver having been sent away for the evening.The only people who remained here at Brynmor Hall were the conspirators and their next two victims: you and me.That way, they could all get their stories straight.When Edwin said 'the estate will go where they need it' after Richard and Jenna were shot… That meant the only people alive in the family were Marianne and the children.I'll wager that Richard and Jenna's wills state that the kids should get anything of theirs, since they don't have children of their own.I'm assuming Marianne conspired with Edwin and Mrs Hughes because she would end up being left with everything, herandthe children.And if Marianne sold the house, she’d settle her dead husband’s debts and give Edwin and Mrs Hughes a hefty amount of it so they could live their lives as they saw fit.”

“Marianne would have had motive to kill because of James’s escorts,” Amelia added.“She must have conspired with the rest to have Catherine killed and then split the money from the house up between them.All of them were in on it, and all of them wanted to sell the house, even those who acted like that was the last thing they wanted.”

Finn nodded.

“But wait,” Amelia said.“Who killed her?She didn’t have that heart condition?She wasn’t like James or Catherine.She wasn’t a Penrose by birth.”

Finn exhaled shakily, glancing around the dim bedroom.“No, but she brought the family name into disrepute.”

Amelia frowned, eyes darting to the open door as if expecting the same phantom footsteps.“You’re not suggesting...”

Finn forced himself to remain calm, his voice hushed with dread."Perhaps something came and visited her tonight.She is a Penrose, after all..."

They both jolted as footsteps—soft, measured—sounded in the corridor.The floorboards’ ancient squeak made it impossible to gauge location.Finn and Amelia froze, each swallowing anxiety.They shared a swift glance, then rushed out into the hallway, scanning the gloom.But the footsteps receded, fading beyond the corridor’s distant bend.By the time they arrived, no shape or silhouette remained.Only emptiness, a hush echoing with possibility.

Amelia clasped Finn’s arm.“Let’s get back up and get the hell out of here.”

“Agreed.”

Finn glanced back to Marianne's door, a bleak sensation washing over him.He couldn't help but think that had Marianne not screamed in horror when he did, Finn and Amelia would have been shot."Thank you," he whispered.

“For what?”Amelia asked.

Finn smiled and they walked out of Brynmor into the estate, which seemed quieter than it ever had before.

EPILOGUE

Two days had passed since the blood-soaked chaos at Brynmor Hall.Two days of statements, police reports, and long nights rummaging through the fractured remnants of a family conspiracy.Two days in which Finn had barely left Amelia's side, ensuring she recovered from the ordeal of chloroform and near-poisoning.But something had spurred them into action: a message.

Now, they roared down a London street in Finn’s red Corvette, the engine’s low growl resonating beneath a gray sky.

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