All Chapters of The Bride They Buried Alive : Chapter 71 - Chapter 78

78 Chapters

CHAPTER 71: Actually Mine

Spring came to the estate without announcement.She noticed it the way she noticed most things now, not as information to be filed and acted on but simply as fact. The hedge line filling in. The beds Damien had replanted in autumn coming through in colours she hadn't anticipated. Yellow, mostly. She hadn't known they would be yellow.She was in the garden at seven in the morning with coffee and no particular reason to be there except that she wanted to be and it was warm enough now that wanting to be outside at seven in the morning was something she could act on without calculating the cost of it first.That was still new. Six months in and still new.She heard the door behind her.Damien came out and stood beside her and looked at the garden and said nothing for a while."Yellow," she said."Mrs. Hale chose them," he said. "She said you'd like yellow."She looked at the beds. She did like yellow. She hadn't known that about herself before this garden."She was right," she said.He ha

Chapter 72: The Coffee Meeting

Harlan was already there when she arrived. He was sitting at a corner table in a café six minutes from the Meridian, which she suspected was not a coincidence, which she had decided not to mention. He had a cup in front of him that he had not touched. He was looking at the door when she came through it. He stood up. She had not expected that. The standing. It was such a specific gesture, old-fashioned, slightly formal, the gesture of a man who had thought about this moment and had decided to meet it with a certain quality of attention. She crossed the room and sat down across from him and he sat back down and they looked at each other for a moment across the small table. He was older than she had built him in her mind from the phone calls. The careful voice had suggested someone contained and precise. He was that, but also more worn than she had expected. The specific wearing of someone who had spent a long time being careful. She understood that. "You look like your mother," h

Chapter 73: The Gate

She found the photograph in October. Not looking for it. She had been going through the last of the boxes from the east wing, the ones that had held the final operational materials before Damien cleared everything out, most of which were empty now or held things that belonged somewhere else in the house. She had been doing this slowly, over several Saturdays, in the particular unhurried way she did most things now that unhurried was an option. The photograph was at the bottom of the last box. She sat down on the floor of the east wing with it. It was the same photograph. The one she had moved from the corkboard in those first urgent weeks. The boat. The photograph she had put in the 2019 accounts folder and which had ended up in the legal documentation and which she had assumed was gone into the machinery of the proceedings. But here it was. Someone had put it back. She didn't know when. She didn't know who. She looked at it for a long time. A boat on grey water. Edward Blackth

CHAPTER 74: What He Actually Said

Reyes came back in November.Not for an assessment specifically. He came for what he called a conversation, which she had learned was his word for something that required sitting down and taking time and could not be conducted standing in a corridor or over the phone.She was in the library when Edmund showed him through. She heard his voice in the entrance hall and then Damien's and then the two of them moving toward the sitting room. She stayed where she was. This one was not hers to be present for unless she was asked.She read.She read the same page four times, which was becoming a habit when Damien was in a room she was not in doing something significant.At eleven-thirty Damien appeared in the library doorway.She looked at his face.Not bad news. Something else. Something she did not have a precise word for yet. The expression of a man who had just received information he had been waiting for long enough that the receiving of it was its own kind of disorientation."He's gone,"

CHAPTER 75: The Desk

The desk arrived on a Wednesday in December.She had chosen it herself. Not from the estate's usual suppliers, not through Edmund's contacts, not with any particular practical consideration beyond the fact that she liked the way it looked and the surface was the right size for the kind of work she intended to do at it.She had not asked anyone's opinion.That was still occasionally something she noticed about herself. The not-asking. The deciding and then doing. She was getting better at not noting it as remarkable. Soon she thought it would simply be how she operated and she would stop being surprised by her own capacity to choose things.Two of the estate's staff carried it up to the east wing and positioned it where she indicated, under the window that looked out onto the side garden, and she stood in the doorway and looked at it sitting there in the room where the corkboard had been.The room where three years of evidence had been assembled and delivered and were now someone else'

CHAPTER 76: Edmund

Edmund gave his notice in January. Not abruptly. Not without warning. He came to Damien first, which was the correct order of things, and then he came to Lila, which she had not expected but which she understood when he explained. He sat across from her in the library on a Tuesday afternoon with his hands folded the way he folded them when something required a certain quality of attention. She had learned to read that quality over the course of a year. It meant he had decided something and was going to say it clearly and without revision. "I wanted to tell you separately," he said. "Because I think what happened here over the past year was partly yours to manage and partly mine and I wanted to acknowledge that before I left." She looked at him. "You knew," she said. "About Victor. Before I arrived." "Yes," he said. "Not everything. Enough." "And you waited." "I was afraid," he said. Simply. Without apology. "I had been in Victor's employ for fourteen years. I knew what he was

CHAPTER 77: The First Dinner

Harlan came to the estate in February. Not for a meeting. Not for anything that required a clean line or a members' club or an exit route through a service door. She had called him two weeks after the café and said come for dinner. He had said are you sure. She had said yes. He had said all right. He arrived at six. She heard his car on the drive and looked out the library window and watched him get out. He stood for a moment looking at the house the way people stood looking at things that had been significant in their lives for a long time without them having been present in them. She understood that quality of looking. She had done it herself from the other direction, arriving at a house she had never been in and understanding immediately that it held more history than she had been told about. She went to the door. She opened it before he knocked. He looked at her. Then at the house. Then back at her. "It's larger than I imagined," he said. "It's larger than necessary," she

CHAPTER 78: One Year

October came back around. She noticed it in the quality of the light first. The specific low angle of it in the mornings, the way it hit the hedge line differently than it had in summer, the garden changing colour in the beds she had started thinking of as hers even though Mrs. Hale maintained them and Harlan had redesigned the east section when he visited in April with opinions she had mostly agreed with and two she had not. She was in the kitchen at five-thirty. The kettle. Two cups. His first. Always. She had stopped noticing she was doing it. It had become so automatic that it was simply the shape of the morning, the way certain things became the shape of mornings when you had been doing them long enough that they stopped being decisions and became simply what was true. She poured his cup and then hers and set his near the island where he would sit and stood at the window with hers and looked at the grounds doing their October morning. The gardener appeared at five forty-thre

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