Page 19 of A Wallflower's Convenient Duke
Much as he longed to flee this relentless city, if Blanche had found some measure of reassurance in his mother, then, for her sake, he supposed they should stay. At least until she felt more settled. He had promised to make this life as easy for her as he could.
With a sigh, his shoulders slumped beneath the weight of reluctant acceptance. He knew this would be a challenge, a trial to endure.
But endure it, he would.
For now.
Still, if the gossip did not subside, he would reconsider. It was impossible not to imagine that life could be so much simpler in the country, away from prying eyes and cruel tongues.
And if it came to that, he would not hesitate.
For both their sakes.
***
As Blanche's belongings from her former home arrived, Philip sensed a mix of anticipation and trepidation in the air. The crates unveiled the remnants of her past life, and among them, the most cherished was her late father's antiquities collection — a trove of ancient artefacts that held sentimental value and bore witness to a rich history.
In a room designated for sorting through the belongings, Philip chanced upon Blanche. She sat by a table surrounded by a plethora of artefacts, each one clearly carrying the weight of memory. Her fingers delicately traced the patterns of aweathered vase, and her gaze lingered on an intricately carved figurine.
"Philip," she greeted, her eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions, the moment she spotted him. "Look at these," she said softly, gesturing toward the artefacts spread across the table. "They are all that remain of my father’s legacy. This figurine he and I found it together on one of his expeditions."
Philip stepped closer, drawn by the intricate pieces displayed before them. The weight of history seemed to hum in the air, woven into each carefully preserved artefact. His eyes roamed over the collection, noting the precision of the craftsmanship, the stories embedded in the worn edges and delicate engravings.
Yet even amidst the beauty, Blanche’s unease was palpable.
At first, he assumed it was grief, a fresh wave of sorrow that had surfaced while she reminisced about her father. But then she sighed, frustration creeping into her expression.
"Philip, this is truly disheartening," she murmured, her voice tight. "Several of my father’s most priceless artefacts are missing."
Philip frowned, his brow knitting together. "Are you certain?"
Blanche nodded, her hands skimming over the remaining pieces as if searching for something that was no longer there. "I know this collection better than anyone. I know what should be here—and it isn’t. Each missing artefact was special to him, each one irreplaceable." She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "No one in my family ever cared for these but me. I cannot understand where they have gone."
Sensing the depth of her distress, Philip reached for her hand, a brief, reassuring touch. "I cannot imagine how difficult this must be for you," he said sincerely. "Tell me, what is missing? What made those pieces so significant?"
Blanche hesitated for a moment before beginning to recount the treasures that had vanished.
"There was a delicate Ming Dynasty vase, my father adored it for its exquisite craftsmanship. A medieval tapestry, woven with a history passed down through generations. And an illuminated manuscript, he considered it the heart of his collection." Her voice caught slightly, but she forced herself to continue. "I cannot believe they are gone."
Philip considered this, glancing over the artefacts that remained. "Could there have been a mistake?"
Blanche’s brow furrowed. "I do not think so. Everything has always been kept together. That is why this is so unsettling."
Philip nodded, absorbing the gravity of her loss. "I am truly sorry, Blanche. Losing such meaningful artefacts is more than losing possessions, it is losing part of your father’s legacy. We must do everything we can to recover them."
Blanche’s eyes met his, her expression a mix of gratitude and quiet determination. "Thank you, Philip. We need to find them. They were everything to him."
As Philip gazed upon the artefacts once more, something stirred within him. Recognition dawned, and he felt a surge of disbelief. Among the items spread across the table were pieces long thought lost — ancient treasures that had eluded collectors all over the city.
"Blanche," he uttered, his voice laced with astonishment and realisation, "these artefacts, they are... they are the ones thought to be gone, vanished."
She looked at him, startled. "Are you certain?"
He nodded, studying them with renewed intensity. "Your father must have been safeguarding them all along. And no one ever knew."
Blanche exhaled a soft, incredulous laugh, her fingers grazing the pieces as if seeing them anew. "He always did value knowledge over notoriety."
As they spoke, their conversation shifted, what had begun as distress slowly transformed into discovery. Philip listened as Blanche recounted the stories woven into each artefact, the depth of her understanding evident in every word.
