The Traitor's Daughter (Complete)

Part 29-The Diary

 The streets of St. Helene were busy as always. Though it was almost the end of winter, a sudden snowstorm had covered the ground with a fresh layer of snow. The trees stood devoid of leaves, looking ghostly in the late evening twilight.

Victor Martin pulled his hat low over his face, ensuring anonymity. A few moments ago, the carriage had deposited him on the main street of the capital. He had taken leave of Jane earlier that morning, with mixed feelings. She had wanted to stop him, but she was wise beyond her age and knew his priorities. For Victor, searching for his daughter was even more important than his safety. He was risking his life just so he could get any news about Zena. It hurt him to think what his darling daughter might be facing all alone and on the run from the prince's men.

He made his way through the side streets and into the narrow lanes before he reached a door. Knocking on it, he stood, holding his breath. What would he find about his only child?

A woman opened the door after a few minutes.

"Whom do you want?" she asked sternly, wiping her hands on her apron.

Victor pushed the hat back and a surprised look passed over her face. She moved aside wordlessly, to let him pass. Once the door had been closed, he turned to face her.

"My lord, after so long!" Mrs. Josef exclaimed, her eyes shining with joy. "We had thought you lost to us."

"How're you, Wilma?" Victor asked his loyal servant. Her family had served his for generations and not even for a moment had they doubted him.

"As you can see, my lord, we too have fallen on hard days after the estate was taken from you. But you come inside, near the fire. There will always be a seat and a hot bowl of soup for you."

"Where's my daughter, Wilma? Have you heard from her?" Victor was anxious for news of Zena, as he accepted the bowl of soup and a piece of bread from his hostess.

Wilma stirred the pot heating on the fire, put some turnips into it, and then settled down on a stool.

"She had spent a month hiding here, my lord, before the guards got wind of it, and came searching. She left abruptly the next morning."

"Do you have any idea where she might have gone?"

"A coachman, Paul, his name was, let us know that he had left her at Blackwood Forest."

"Blackwood Forest! That's way off from here. Why on earth did she choose that place?"

"Maybe, because it's way off, my lord. She was feeling the heat here in the city. His Majesty's men were after her. She found it impossible to leave the hovel where she was putting up."

Victor felt a surge of rage at the words. His daughter had never known adversity. He had brought her up with the utmost care and love. To hear of the hardships she had to face in his absence, broke his heart. What did Prince Lucas hope to gain by imprisoning her? She was innocent, having no idea of the court politics that had caused his downfall.

That night, as he sat dining around the fire with the family, he told Josef why he had come to the city risking his life.

"You want me to find out what happened to Miss Zena?" Josef asked. He was a stout man with a medium height, his hair going gray.

Victor nodded, tasting a spoonful of the stew. With cheap cuts of meat and turnips, it said a lot about their poverty, and he was thankful to them for sharing their frugal meal with him. He would need their help in finding out the truth. It was imperative that he find out who was behind the whole plot to discredit him.

Josef pulled on his coat and cap and left after dinner to ferret out some information about Zena.

"You stay here, my lord. It's not safe for you to venture out."

After he had left, Victor sat by the fire for some time, but he was impatient to be on his way to fulfill his mission. It wouldn't do for him to stay in hiding. Nothing would be achieved that way. It was time that he faced Prince Lucas with the truth.

Picking up his coat and hat, he left the humble abode, walking into the dark alleyways, till he came to the main street. The street was deserted with only a few people hastening home in the cold of the night.

Victor walked on, his feet taking him involuntarily toward a large townhouse. Soon, he found himself standing outside what had once been his home. The building lay in darkness, though, he could see a small light burning in what he knew to be the study. Who could it be in the study so late at night, and that too in the house which was supposed to be locked?

The gate was locked, so he looked around him, and finding no one, climbed the high wall, jumping soft-footed on the grass at the other side. The grass had grown tall, while in his day, it used to be well manicured. Taking his position behind an oak tree with a wide trunk, he stood there, waiting to see who would come out of the study.

Time seemed to pass slowly, an interminable wait. Victor felt his legs freezing, but he wasn't ready to give up. After what seemed like an hour, he heard footsteps approaching. The main door opened and a man stepped out, dapper in a tail coat and hat.

"Oh, my God!" Victor breathed under his breath. So he had been right all along. It was confirmation of his theory. This man was behind all that had happened to him. How he had trusted this man, considered him his friend, even. To find him here, sneaking out like a thief in the darkness of the night! What had he been doing in the study? He prayed that he hadn't found the secret drawer in his desk. There were certain things which should never see the light of day, and especially shouldn't fall into the hands of unscrupulous men.

A coach pulled in front of the gate and the man unlocked it, locking it again as he left in the coach. Victor heaved a sigh of relief. Coming out from behind his hiding place, he walked up to the front door, trying it and finding it unlocked. He pushed it open, the creaking sound loud enough to wake the dead in the stillness of the night, and stepped inside. Faint moonlight filtered in through the door which stood ajar.

Moisture gathered in his eyes as he glanced around the hall. He was stepping foot into his home after months. So much had happened in the meantime. He had lost not only his position, and his estate, but also his honor. Most of all, he might have lost his daughter. The thought made him break out into a cold sweat.

He climbed the grand staircase, going to the upper story and then into the study. It was pitch dark inside, but he knew his way, and where the candles were kept. He found them there, as well as the matches, and lighted one, going straight to his desk. He turned a couple of knobs, till a drawer pushed out of nowhere. With shaking hands, Victor picked out the diary which lay inside and sank down on the chair.

Sophia's diary. It was still there.