The Exchanged Heir

Chapter 16: The Boundary Between Water and Light（1）

Chapter 16: The Boundary Between Water and Light（1）

Three unopened letters lay on the breakfast table like unexploded bombs. Lucy picked up her buttered bread, her gaze unable to leave those envelopes. Isabella stared into her teacup, watching the swirling tea leaves, trying to read the future in their chaotic patterns.

“Which should we open first?” Lucy finally asked, a barely perceptible tension in her voice.

Mrs. Hudson cleared her throat. “By etiquette, the Duke’s letter first. Then the royal correspondence. As for the anonymous one...” she paused, “...caution is required.”

Isabella reached for the Duke of Winston’s letter. The envelope was heavy, the family seal intact. Using a letter opener, she broke the wax and extracted the paper. The handwriting was the familiar flowing script she knew, but the tone was as cold as a winter stream.

“‘Dear Miss Blackwood,’” she read aloud, her voice carefully neutral, “‘Last night’s ball left a profound impression. The courage and determination you displayed, while somewhat reckless in certain aspects, nevertheless prove the Blackwood line has a worthy successor.’”

Lucy frowned. “Is he mocking us?”

“Patience,” Isabella continued reading. “‘However, I must remind you that courage without the guidance of wisdom often leads to disaster. Your public display with Miss Isabella has drawn unnecessary attention. Society has never been tolerant of anomalies, nor accepting of deviations from the norm.’”

Her fingers tightened slightly, the paper whispering as it moved.

“‘As a longstanding friend of the family, I suggest you reconsider your choices. Miss Isabella’s status remains an unresolved controversy, and her growing influence over you may not be as pure as it appears. Young minds are easily deceived, particularly when that deception wears the guise of care and affection.’”

“What is he implying?” Anger colored Lucy’s voice.

Isabella took a deep breath and continued. “‘I propose that, for your future and the Blackwood family’s reputation, Miss Isabella should temporarily leave the estate for a tour of continental Europe. I shall bear the expenses. This would provide her with an opportunity for a fresh start while allowing you to learn how to truly manage family affairs without... interference.’”

The final line read: “‘Please respond within three days. Should you decline this well-intentioned proposal, I shall be forced to employ other means to protect Blackwood family interests—including revealing certain truths that may prove embarrassing to you.’”

Silence descended upon the breakfast table. Sunlight slanted through the windows, casting bright patches on the tablecloth that contrasted sharply with the letter’s threats.

“He’s threatening us,” Lucy stated, her voice cold.

“And he hints that he possesses more information,” Isabella placed the letter down. “About my origins, or... about us.”

Mrs. Hudson rose. “I shall attend to the morning’s arrangements. The young ladies require time for discussion.” She gave them the rare gift of privacy and withdrew.

Lucy immediately reached for Isabella’s hand. “I won’t let you leave. Never.”

“But if we ignore his threats...” Isabella didn’t finish the thought. She picked up the second letter—from Prince Edward. The royal crest on the envelope gleamed in the sunlight.

This letter was shorter, more elegantly phrased, but equally troubling.

“‘Dear Miss Isabella and Miss Blackwood,’” she read, “‘Last night’s ball was a remarkable performance. The courage and mutual loyalty you displayed are like a clear spring in this world of pretense. I admire your resolve.’”

“That sounds much friendlier than the Duke’s,” Lucy observed.

Isabella continued. “‘However, I must speak candidly: the path you have chosen is strewn with thorns. The Duke of Winston will not yield easily, and society’s tolerance for unconventional relationships is exceedingly low—even when such relationships bear the name of sisterly affection.’”

Her voice trembled slightly. “‘My proposal from last night remains. Marriage to me would offer you protection, Isabella. It would grant you legitimate status, making you impervious to the Duke’s attacks. Simultaneously, it would protect Lucy, for her closest ‘sister’ would become a member of the royal family.’”

Lucy pushed back her chair so abruptly it scraped loudly against the floor. “He’s still pursuing this!”

“‘Please understand,’” Isabella read the final paragraph, “‘this is not a traditional proposal of marriage, but a strategic alliance. Marriage can be a contract rather than a prison of emotion. We could each retain our own... preferences and attachments while gaining freedom and security. Please give me your answer within three days. Until then, I shall ensure the Duke of Winston takes no drastic action.’”

She set the letter down, feeling dizzy. Two men, two threats, two seemingly different proposals that were essentially the same: to separate her from Lucy.

“There’s a third letter,” Lucy reminded her, her voice low.

The anonymous envelope was the simplest, with no seal, no crest, only their names. Isabella carefully opened it. Inside was a single line:

“‘The truth of the full moon night was merely the beginning. The deepest secret remains hidden in water. Beware of ponds that appear clear, for they often conceal the strongest undertows.—A Friend’”

“What does this mean?” Lucy asked, confused.

Isabella stared at the phrase “hidden in water,” suddenly remembering the ancient lake behind Blackwood Manor. As a child, the old gardener had warned her not to go near it, saying there were undertows that could swallow the careless.

“I don’t know,” she admitted honestly, “but I feel all three letters point to the same thing: someone wants to separate us.”

Lucy walked to the window, looking out at the sunlit garden. “Then we’ll prove them wrong. Prove we’re stronger together.”

***

The morning passed in tense discussion. They decided not to reply to any letters immediately, but to gather more information first. Lucy suggested examining the estate’s archives—centuries of Blackwood family records might hold clues about Isabella’s origins or the lake.

The archive room was located in the basement of the manor’s west wing, a place seldom visited. When they pushed open the heavy oak door, the scent of old dust and aged paper greeted them. The room was crowded with shelves packed with leather-bound ledgers, letter boxes, and document bags.

“Where do we begin?” Lucy asked, her eyes scanning the rows of archives.

“By year,” Isabella said. “Nineteen years ago, the year I was born.”

It took them an hour to find the correct shelf. The label read “1780-1800,” precisely the period of Isabella’s birth. Lucy stood on tiptoe to retrieve a thick folder, dust motes dancing like golden particles in the sunlight.

The folder contained various documents: property deeds, leases, household physician’s bills, servants’ wage records. Isabella examined each page carefully, searching for anything unusual.

“Look at this,” Lucy said suddenly, pulling a yellowed paper from the bottom of the folder. It was a copy of a birth certificate, recording the birth of the Blackwood heiress: Isabella Mary Blackwood, born March 15, 1781. Everything seemed normal, except the signature line bore two names: midwife Margaret Hopkins, and another name that had been scratched out.

Isabella held the paper up to the light, trying to decipher the obliterated name. The ink had faded, but she could make out “E...ward.”

“Edward?” Lucy guessed.

“Or Edwin, Edmund...” Isabella frowned. “But why scratch it out?”

They continued searching, finding several more puzzling documents: a receipt from a French convent dated April 1781; an unsigned letter mentioning “the infant has been safely delivered”; and a survey report about the estate lake dated May 1781, concluding “water body safe, no concerns.”

“Look at this,” Lucy pointed to the survey report’s signature. “Surveyor: Edward Coventry. Edward again.”

A chill ran down Isabella’s spine. She remembered Prince Edward’s words: “I knew your mother.” And the anonymous letter’s warning: “The deepest secret remains hidden in water.”

“We need to see the lake,” she said.