The ground sparkled white in the winter sun. The countryside was covered in an undisturbed blanket of white with only a ditch wide enough for a carriage to pass through disturbing the perfect scenery. Birds called each other from frozen trees and a young fox poked his nose out from a hole in some tree roots before being scared back into the hole as a black carriage trundled past. It clattered loudly as it went over the hard dirt track. The rider was wearing a thick black trench coat with a long grey scarf that had been wrapped around his neck and face several times. A flat cap had been shoved firmly on his head and a pair of thick leather gloves gripped the reins. He snapped the reins again, urging the chestnut horse onwards towards a fairly large country house.

The carriage soon came up to the gate of the house. The driveway of the house had been cleared of the snow but the rest of the gardens lay untouched. The coachman jumped down from his seat and fumbled with the catch on the gate. He swore as he realised he’d have to take his gloves off to open it. Once opened, the carriage made its way into the driveway. The carriage passed under metal arches with cold frozen vines stretched over them where roses grew in the summer. The door to the house opened and a tall man dressed in a light coat ran to the carriage. The coach driver jumped down again and took his cap off, as a sign of respect to the man of higher authority, for a few moments before slamming it back on his head because of the cold. The door to the carriage opened and a young man stepped out to meet the man who had come out of the house. The young man had dark brown hair that nearly reached his shoulders. The darkness of his hair made his eyes look like they were dark blue. He wasn’t unfortunate looking either, his features were well defined but not so hard to be upsetting on the eye. As he stepped down from the carriage he shook hands with the man from the house. The man from the house had lighter hair but it was peppered with white hair that made him look older. His lined face also gave away some indication of his age. Both men looked very seriously at each other. The younger man looked more worried, however.

“How is she?” asked the younger of the men.

“You better come and see for yourself. Your sister has been working herself into a state about it.” The older man said.

“Show me where my mother is, Mr. Cuting,” The man said. Mr. Cuting nodded and led the younger into the house. The house was welcoming and warm. The younger of the men felt a sense of security overcome him as he stepped into the building he spent his childhood in. He would have been overjoyed to be back if it wasn’t for the curtains being drawn and a young woman sitting in a chair by the fire just staring into it. Apart from the fire and a few candles scattered around the room, there was no source of light.

“Rachel?” The young man said tentatively. The woman looked up and ran over to him. She put her arms tightly around his neck as he kissed her cheek.

“James, you’re here at last!” She said with her eyes closed. She had the same eyes as James King but her hair was lighter. Rachel was three years younger than her brother who had left Oxford to be with her.

“Where is mother?” James asked as he took his hat and scarf off.

“In her room. The doctor has been and he’s said there’s nothing more that he can do, her injuries are too severe.” Mr. Cuting told James. James looked at Mr. Cuting then at his sister. Rachel looked at a door that led to his mother’s room. James shed his coat and let his sister take it. Without his coat his figure could be easily seen. His suit was cut perfectly to fit him; he looked exactly how an Oxford student should look. Smart, tall and athletic. He went to the door and pushed it open. A young maid looked up and stood up once she’d seen who had entered.

“Master King,” She said with a slight bow of her blond head.

“Sarah,” James said with a nod. “How is my mother?”

“She has had better days sir,” She said. James nodded and went to the bedside. He knelt on the floor and looked at the frail lady who lay in the bed. She looked as though she had aged too quickly. Her long dark hair, which had once been thick and wavy, lay limp and thin against the pillow. Her face looked drawn with a dark patch that marred her cheek where she’d been hit.

“James,” She managed to say weakly.

“Mother,” He forced out. A lump had formed in his throat. He’d never seen his mother so weak, not even when his father had died. He took her hand that lay on her chest and held it in his. It seemed to offer some comfort but her hand was still slightly cold, like her body couldn’t keep it warm enough.

“James, you shouldn’t have left Oxford, you have too much work-” She said before bursting out into a coughing fit.

“Mother, you’re more important then anything Oxford has to offer,” James said. She looked at James and smiled meekly.

“You look more like your father every time I see you,” She mumbled, “Sarah leave us please.” She had just finished her sentence when her body was racked with coughs. Sarah nodded and quickly picked up a bowl that had a towel in it.

“Is there anything you want master?” Sarah asked James before she left. He shook his head. She quickly left the room. The room was silent for a little longer after she’d left until James’ mother started speaking again.

“James, there is something I must tell you,” She said tiredly. Her eyes were closed and she looked as though she was making one last effort to talk.

“Mother, not now, you need to rest,” James said.

“Don’t be stupid James, if I rest the secret will be lost with me forever. This is my last chance to tell you. Your father and I are the keepers of something very precious. When we were younger we were forced to hide it. Only we know the location. I cannot tell you where it is directly, we don’t know who may be listening-” She started coughing again. James looked at his mother. Why was she telling him this when she was so ill, of course she was going to get better. “In your father’s study is an envelope hidden in a book with a black binding, the book has no title, it is in fact empty and the secret that I keep is in there. Read it once I have left this world. You must go and find it and tell the guardian who you are. Tell your sister only if you need to. She may be in danger if you tell her. Powerful men are after the thing we keep. Keep it safe James. And remember, all the gold will not make you a good man,” She said. Her grip on James hand tightened slightly.

“Mother?” James asked. He was confused, what was she talking about? His father’s study? That was in the house in London, no one had entered the study since Simon King’s funeral.

“Harvey will help you, he knows of it but not of the location, he will help you to protect it. James promise me this and look after your sister,” She said.

“Mother, do not speak like this. You will get better. The gunshot wound, it will heal,” James said desperately. His mother managed a weak smile.

“You yourself are a doctor James, but I fear you will not be great if you have not noticed that I am going to die,” James closed his eyes. Of course he’d known. The moment he’d heard where his mother had been shot in Rachel’s letter he’d known it was too late. James put his mother’s hand to his lips and kissed it as she took her last breath. He felt his mother’s grip on his hand slacken and knew she’d left him. The lump that had been building in his throat disappeared as a tear appeared at the corner of his left eye. He lay his mother’s hand back on her chest and pulled the blanket over her head. With a heavy sigh he stood up and looked at the covered body of his mother. With a heavy heart he left the room and looked at Sarah.

“Go to the doctor,” James said calmly, “Tell him that his services are no longer needed.” Sarah’s eyes went wide and her mouth fell open slightly.

“No,” Rachel cried in disbelief forcing James to look at her. She shook her head. “Mother is ok isn’t she?” James lowered his eyes and went to give her a brotherly embrace.

“I will go and inform the-” Mr. Cuting stopped. His grief was too much. He had been with the family all James’ life. When James’ father had died Mr. Cuting had become the father figure of the household though he did not live with them. He had been a precious addition to their family. He put his coat back on and left the two siblings in the room on their own. James heard the carriage pulling out of the driveway as he held his sister’s shaking body.

“Rachel,” He said gently. Rachel pulled away from him and wiped her eyes with her kerchief. “Would you like to return to Oxford with me or would you like to stay in London or here?” James asked. He knew it was probably the wrong thing to say but he could think of nothing else to say.

“I will stay in London with Mrs. Dalton after the funeral, if that is fine with you,” Rachel said. Mrs. Dalton was a good friend of the family who would have come with Rachel from London if it hadn’t been for a bout of cold that she had caught from the cook. She often acted as Rachel’s chaperon when Mrs. King took her trips to the country. James nodded and stroked Rachel’s hair. “May I see her?” Rachel asked.

“Mother?” James asked. Rachel nodded. James shook his head. “It is something that a woman shouldn’t see. Rachel, I will send you back to London and you may return for mother’s funeral,”

“I want to be here,” Rachel retorted.

“Rachel, please, go back to London until the funeral and I will call you back,” James said desperately. Rachel looked as though she was about to protest again when Sarah came back into the room through the main door. Her cheeks were red and her hair was a mess around her face.

“It’s getting a tad windy, master,” She said as James looked at her curiously, “The doctor was on his way but he’s gone with Mr. Cuting to talk to the local undertaker,” She said. Her voice was strained like she wanted to cry but wouldn’t cry.

“Thank you Sarah,” James said, he turned to Rachel, “Please could you pack my sister’s things. You will accompany her back to London,”

“But-” Sarah started to say but she held her tongue. James turned and went back into his mother’s bedroom. Rachel glared at him as he returned to the room. He could feel her glaring but chose to ignore it. It was for her own good.