As one of the footmen hurried off to retrieve a telephone, Edmund knelt down slowly beside Hannah, his expression softening slightly as he studied the empty jewelry box and the surrounding tile floor with careful, deliberate attention. "Let's not be hasty," he said quietly, glancing up toward Margarethe, who remained standing rigidly nearby, already dialing a number on her phone.
"Edmund, this isn't the time for your usual caution," Margarethe snapped, though she paused briefly, phone still raised, watching him with visible impatience.
Edmund ignored her irritation, running his fingers gently along the floor near where the box had fallen, searching methodically for any clue that might explain what had truly happened. Hannah watched him through tear-filled eyes, a small, desperate flicker of hope rekindling within her at his calm, careful attention.
"I promise you," Hannah whispered again, meeting his gaze directly, "I've never even held that box before tonight."
Edmund studied her expression carefully, searching for any sign of deception, finding instead only raw, unmistakable fear and confusion. He had spent decades learning to read the people around him, and everything about Hannah's reaction told him she was telling the truth.
Nearby, soft violin strings seemed to underscore the tension gripping the hallway, every staff member holding their breath as they waited to see how the situation would unfold. Margarethe continued dialing, her fingers moving briskly across her phone screen, while Nathaniel stood rigidly beside her, his expression cold and resolute.
Edmund's eyes drifted briefly toward his grandson, studying him for a moment longer than necessary, an unfamiliar flicker of suspicion beginning to form somewhere in the back of his mind, though he couldn't yet explain why.