Page 36 of Unearthing the Smuggler's Heart
"Whatever the new owner of the home didn't wish to keep was forced into this chest," Charles explained grimly. "I think they broke the strongbox trying to force it in there too."
"Oh, Mathias, look," Isabelle said with a sentimental little sigh. "The strongbox. Do you remember our distress upon finding it hanging open, just like that?"
"I will never forget that particular moment," Mathias replied with a little chuckle. "Shame it's empty. Again."
Jade held her breath, spreading her hands out on top of the chest where she might grip it to throw it open. She supposed there was no standing on ceremony, nor any reason to wait. It was not as though she had a speech prepared, after all. She looked over her shoulder at the others, hoping for some sort of reassurance, or perhaps for permission, but all of them only looked back at her as though she were their leader and the decision was hers alone.
So she took a sharp breath and flipped the latch out of its socket. She pressed her palms into the sharp corners on either edge of the lid and with a little breath of effort heaved it open, stepping away as a modest cloud of dust escaped from the inside in protest at the invasion of fresh air.
All together, the four of them leaned forward and peered inside.
CHAPTER15
For a moment, Jade couldn't make sense of what she was seeing.
Of course, that likely would have been true no matter what had hidden inside the old wooden trunk. Rags or riches, Jade knew she'd likely be confounded either way.
In this case, her ability to assess the loot was certainly not helped by the haphazard way the contents had been crammed into the trunk. Fabrics mingled with sharp and blunt edges. Things stuck out at odd angles, and the color was a dull easel of dusted pigment.
Isabelle reacted first, reaching inside and pulling what appeared to be an old tablecloth to the side. "Oh, look, Jade," she breathed, laying a hand on her shoulder. "It is a collection of fans."
This should not have surprised her. But somehow, even having prepared for the fan cipher specifically, seeing them there stunned her anyway.
Indeed, there were about half a dozen cloth fans with wooden supports crammed into the center of the chest, likely warped beyond the point of use. Still, they were likely going to come into necessity once they had emptied out the rest of the contents, so Jade was careful removing them, folding each one as close to its original creasing as she possibly could before setting them neatly to the side.
There was a thick, leather-bound book nestled into the cavity below the fans, its pages jutting out in varying sizes, colors, and thickness. It looked like an accumulation of many years of information, a combination of its own records and several loose pages stuffed in between them.
Jade was exceptionally careful as she lifted it out, her heart thundering in her ears. If the others in the room spoke to her, she didn't hear it over her own breathing. This was where she would find answers. Somehow, in her bones, she knew it. If it wouldn't have been horribly rude, she might have bundled it up to her chest and scampered off directly to her rented room to investigate it through the night.
Though, she realized, much of it was likely written in French.
She immediately glanced up at her compatriots, all of whom were holding their breath. Unfortunately, looking up meant that her eyes found Mathias's again.
She had been unable to stop looking at him since she'd returned from the armory. His behavior had been odd, but intoxicating. He'd loomed closer to her, placed his hand upon her at any opportunity, seemingly in an effort to signify to Charles that she was his, and not available for the interest of other men.
It was ridiculous. Both to think that he'd feel possessive of her and to feel so positively thrilled by the idea of it. She had been completely powerless to stop sneaking glances at him. She could not stop wondering what he was thinking. Most distressingly of all, she could not tamp down the thrill she felt every time she looked up and realized his eyes were already upon her, steady and amber gold.
It was like he was simply waiting for her, knowingly sending jolts of thrill and panic into her body as a reward, or perhaps a punishment, every time she was brave enough to meet his eye.
It made her face warm and her insides churn. He was looking at her the way he had looked at her that day in the cargo hold just before he'd kissed her. Surely he could not possibly think that she was tempted by another man, but there he was, casting heat and suggestion in her direction with all the power of a deafening roar. He looked inflamed, the way he had that day in the cargo hold.
It scared her how much she liked it. And it unsettled her how distracting it was opposite the legacy awaiting her in this box. She cleared her throat, setting the book aside, and looked back into the trunk.
Much of the remaining space was taken up by clothing—fine dresses and suits that had been stowed away over decades, carefully curated over a lifetime. Isabelle tutted and fawned over the textiles as they were removed and spread out, her hands pressing over the folds in the skirts and the pockets in the waistcoats to look for any odds and ends that may have gotten lost within them. She found a few things—a brooch, an old tin of tobacco— but nothing of obvious consequence.
Beyond that, the remainder of the box was filled with items that could be summarized as a simple collection of mementos, most of which would be perceived as worthless by anyone other than the owner. There was a knitted blanket with several errors in the looping, likely a first attempt. There was a pair of baby's booties. There were a couple of portraits, one of which had been badly ripped by being forced into the trunk. There were love letters between Pauline and Gerard, knotted together with a red ribbon. And there was a very ugly ceramic teapot, painted with what appeared to be haphazard smears of mismatched paints.
It seemed to Jade that her instinct about the leather book must be correct. It was the only thing here that might hold a clue to what they were looking for.
"Do you think there is encrypted writing in this journal?" Mathias asked, reaching down for the book where it sat on the floor, presumably having heard her thoughts. His tanned hands turned it over to examine the exterior, his eyes sharp and observant. "I can't imagine how you'll know which pages to decrypt and which ones are just simple record keeping."
"The only way to know is to begin going through them," Charles Monetier pointed out.
"I will only be able to review the records in English, I'm afraid," Jade confessed, gazing up at the two men. "So I will require some help."
Of course, all three of the others in the room immediately offered their services, each one sporting French as their mother tongue.
The sudden precipice of the final step of this journey put a spike of panic in Jade's stomach. She was not ready just yet. Not ready for it to end or for the end to appear before her. Quite enough had already happened in a short span of time, and she needed a respite, if only for a few hours.
