For four days, I watched the palace change its face around me.
The staff avoided saying "mistress." The newspapers kept saying it for them. Adrian stopped visiting at night and began sending questions through official channels, as if a formal tone could turn captivity into administration.
On the fifth evening, Mrs. Wren opened the service door and stepped inside.
"I need you to come with me," she said.
"Where?"
"The household office."
"Why?"
"Because I found something in the old records room."
I took my coat. "Is the corridor clear?"
"For a minute."
We walked quickly. Mrs. Wren had keys to every service passage, but she didn't pretend that meant she could get me out of the palace. She led me to the household office, where two boxes of old correspondence sat open on the floor.
"S
