Chapter 6 - The Broken Rug
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By three o'clock that afternoon, storm clouds had gathered over the coast.
Inside the grand drawing room, Vanessa sat sipping a glass of expensive Chateau Margaux red wine while Evelyn rested upstairs. Teresa was carefully dusting a nearby antique cabinet.
"Teresa," Vanessa called out sharply, setting her glass on the edge of a glass coffee table. "Bring me a throw blanket. It’s getting chilly."
"Of course, Miss Hale," Teresa replied politely, bowing her head.
As Teresa walked past the table to retrieve the wool throw from the settee, Vanessa deliberately extended her foot, hooking her heel around the table leg. With a swift, subtle jerk, the table wobbled, sending the full glass of red wine crashing onto the priceless 19th-century Persian rug.
Splash. Dark red liquid soaked deep into the hand-woven cream wool.
"Oh! Look at what you did, you clumsy old fool!" Vanessa shrieked, jumping up from her chair.
Teresa gasped, dropping to her knees. "Miss Hale! I didn't touch the table!"
"Are you calling me a liar?!" Vanessa’s voice echoed off the high ceilings. "You bumped right into it! That rug is worth more than your entire life savings! I am calling Evelyn down right now. You are done working here!"
"What is going on here?"
Adrian walked into the room, holding a tray of polished silver. He took in the scene instantly—the spilled wine, Teresa shaking on her knees, and Vanessa towering over her with flared nostrils.
"This incompetent old woman just ruined a museum-quality rug!" Vanessa snarled. "I want her packed and off the estate before sunset!"
"Teresa didn't spill the wine," Adrian said, his voice dropping into a register that was far too commanding for a cook.
Vanessa blinked, startled by his tone, then grew even angrier. "Excuse me? You were in the hallway! How would you know?"
"Because," Adrian said, stepping forward and pointing to the subtle angle of the overturned glass, "if someone bumped the table from the walkway, the glass would have fallen toward the sofa. It fell toward the chair. Which means it was pushed from where you were sitting."
Vanessa’s face flushed bright red. "You arrogant piece of trash! How dare you analyze me! You're fired!"
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"He isn't fired," a soft voice spoke from the grand staircase.
Evelyn Mercer stood on the landing, looking down at the three of them with a strange, searching expression in her eyes.
