Imogen chatted with Petra for a few minutes, while the latter arranged and rearranged a tall stack of books that she was taking with her on their trip. The ones Petra was leaving for Imogen's TBR pile were mostly on the history of Fleckney and architecture, since Petra seemed to be convinced that the Reliquary had been relocated during one of the times when the Hall had been renovated in the past.
Soon, the Titan, Petra, and Imogen were standing in the entrance hall, and the Titan helped Petra with her coat.
"Albert is driving us to London," the Titan said.
Imogen could see his black Royce outside, and the chauffeur who was loading luggage into the boot. Suddenly Fellowes showed up from a corridor, carrying a small suitcase. She looked uneasy, which was rather shocking to one's senses, considering the woman's normal unwavering, frosty demeanour.
"Have a good evening, Ms. Fox. I'll take my luggage outside, sir," Fellowes muttered and dashed by them to the door.
Imogen stared after the woman in bewilderment.
"Fellowes will return tomorrow afternoon," the Titan explained lazily. "Her sister is ill, and we offered to give Fellowes a lift. I'm afraid we're flustering her beyond measure. She is rather old-fashioned when it comes to upstairs-downstairs relationships."
Petra giggled and patted his chest. "Look at you. Soon you'll be quoting the Plan of Ayala." She turned to Imogen. "Goodbye, Imogen! Please, write me an email or two, and I shall see you in a couple of weeks."
Before Imogen could understand what was happening, Petra squeezed her in a surprisingly crushing embrace and then bounced out of the door. The Titan followed her with an affectionate gaze. Imogen had never seen his face so soft and content.
"Ms. Fox," he said and slowly turned to her. "May I ask you for a favour? I promised Tommy's mother that I would keep the details of her personal life, especially its later circumstances, a secret. I suppose she didn't want Tommy and Di to judge her. I felt it was alright to share my story with you, but I have to keep my promise. Tommy shouldn't find out."
Imogen frowned and fidgeted with her engagement ring, which was becoming quite a habit.
"I won't tell him anything," she said. "And your history with my Mother is your private matter. But you should consider telling John what happened to Mrs. Oakby and about her last days. I think it would make him quite relieved to know she was happy at the end."
The Titan studied her face pensively, and then sighed. "I haven't thought of it this way, I must admit."
"I just know that he wouldn't judge her at all," Imogen said with conviction. "And after just one open conversation with you, it's obvious to me that you were very fond of her. You're still wearing her ring." Imogen pointed at his left hand with her eyes. "The ruby ring you wear with your band. It's her family heirloom. It's listed among your property, and I'm the one dealing with your insurance paperwork," she explained. "If John knew more about your relationship with his Mother, it would help him to understand you more, to feel closer to you."
The Titan lowered his face, and Imogen heard a low velvet chuckle.
"I should've known from the start that you would be a disruptive influence on my family," he murmured, and then quickly looked up, flashing her a dashing, roguish smirk, which acutely reminded her that he was a relation of the Mayor's. "Soon enough you'll have us all talking about our feelings and getting along. What a nightmare!" He chuckled again. "I'll leave my house - and my son - in your capable hands, Ms. Fox. Have a good evening!"
And then he was gone, and the door closed behind him softly. Imogen huffed, shuffled her feet on his luxurious Persian carpet, and then reminded herself she had a thick manual to read. She needed to figure out the alarm and then, finally, go home and check on the Mayor. There were no messages in her phone, so she hoped he was peacefully asleep.
She settled in the sitting room where she'd been talking with the Titan and opened the alarm instructions on her lap. A few minutes later she realised she hadn't retained a single point she'd read, in her memory. There was no use denying it, she was utterly distracted. He had allowed her to look at the portrait after all, she reminded herself. Perhaps, if she had a peek, she'd be able to focus better.
It felt strange to walk through the dark manor. For some reason turning on the lights seemed presumptuous, so she just lit up her path with her phone. Also, her eyes tended to adjust to the dark rather well, so she easily made her way through a short corridor to the library and pushed the armchair just the way the Titan's had shown her all those months ago. The shelf covering the secret tunnel shifted, Imogen settled her mobile on a console nearby, and opened the entrance even wider.
The portrait was gone.
Thanks to her photographic memory, she could see that nothing else had been moved or taken in the priest's hole - but the painting wasn't there. To Imogen's understanding the only two people to enter this space were Petra and Fellowes. It was obvious Imogen was missing some important information, since she simply couldn't imagine a reason why either of them would take the portrait and what they would do to it.
Back in the library she turned on a small reading lamp and heavily sat down in the armchair. She could ask Fellowes when the latter was back to the Hall, and Petra was simply one email away. At the moment, Imogen felt rather at sixes and sevens, and wasn't sure how she should proceed with the matter, so she took a deep breath and concentrated on the matters at hand.
The alarm system was rather complicated, and she had to reread some of the paragraphs several times. It also required an app, and she pulled her mobile out of her handbag.
There was a notification for a text from Guthrie, and Imogen unlocked the screen.
I see your children are at Di's tonight. Does it mean you're sleuthing? With your future FIL, Dr. Nenadovich, and the terrifying housekeeper gone, you should snoop in the Oakby Manor.
Imogen gave out a huff of indignation. The man seemed utterly too well informed of the Oakbies' movements and circumstances. She furiously typed a response.
I'm at the Manor at the moment, NOT snooping, but making sure the house is well protected against ANY filchers and crooks.
After receiving another text from Guthrie, consisting of a long row of grinning emojis, Imogen made another disgruntled noise and opened the app store. Unlike ninety nine percent of the world population, when faced with the situation she was in right now, Imogen made sure to always - carefully and meticulously - read terms and conditions for every app she downloaded, every software she purchased, and every update she authorised. That's why she didn't fail to notice that the app she was installing right now was created by CyberFleck.
Imogen glanced at her watch again, and allowed herself fifteen minutes of research of the company's site. It was pleasantly designed and easy to navigate, and soon she was reading through the bios of the CyberFleck employees. While her mind was cataloguing the details, Imogen pondered which of the employees could serve as an access point to the company's secrets. It had to be a person who was decisively beyond suspicion and could be trusted with Imogen's suspicions. And then she found the most perfect candidate! Excited, she started typing a text to Viola.
I found a contact in CyberFleck we can use to gain some intel. Her name is Katie Trout. I went to school with her.
May I call you? Viola answered. Imogen sent back an affirmative, and her mobile immediately vibrated.
"Good evening, Imogen," the doctor's lilting voice greeted Imogen. "I apologise for the late call, but I've just gotten the most fascinating insight into our burglaries. And since you conveniently texted me, I assumed that perhaps you would–"
A soft thud and then quiet scraping came from somewhere above Imogen, and she froze.
"Viola, there's someone here with me," she whispered. "I think someone's... broken in."
"What?" the doctor exclaimed, and Imogen heard the noise of a car door shutting closed, on the other end of the line. "Someone's broken into your cottage?!"
"I'm not in my cottage," Imogen hissed. "I'm in the Oakby Manor. Alone."
"Can you get out? Or hide somewhere safe?" Viola asked, and now Imogen could hear a car engine revving. "Find a place to hide and be very, very quiet," Viola ordered. "I'll call the police right away. I'm on my way to you. Just give me ten minutes. Now, go, Imogen!" she commanded and hung up.
Imogen's first impulse was to run out of the library and towards the front door, but if indeed there were some unsavoury characters on the first floor above her, there was a high chance they'd notice her, because the first floor gallery had a direct view of the grand staircase and the entrance hall.
She could hide in the Titan's study, she thought, but then remembered that he'd told her he kept his papers - and his safe - in it, and if the person, or persons moving above her were Carolina Viviani's accomplices, they would surely know it. The priest's hole was another option, but the idea of being locked in the dark, stuffy tunnel suddenly seemed terrifying. More subtle noises came, and it seemed that they were getting closer - and Imogen dashed through the door into the Titan's study, climbed onto a wide windowsill, and stilled behind a heavy velvet curtain, pressing her phone to her chest.