4141.222 · August 10, 1821 AD
Questions Without Answers
When authority arrives, secrets multiply. Constable John Broadmoor has seen enough of colonial society to know that wealth conceals as much as it reveals. Now he stands at the threshold of Jeffries Manor, where every statement feels rehearsed, every gesture calculated, and even grief seems to carry an undercurrent of performance. In seven years of service, he's learned one truth: the more respectable the house, the darker its secrets.
Constable John Broadmoor rides toward Jeffries Manor with Inspector Barwick's words echoing in his mind: "Money like that doesn't appear from nowhere, not even in Van Diemen's Land."
He's thirty-two, sharp-eyed, and stubborn. Seven years in the colony have taught him that respectability is often just a well-tailored disguise. And the Jeffries family has always attracted whispers—mysterious midnight meetings, documents disappearing from government offices, competitors abandoning ventures without explanation. Nothing provable. Nothing actionable. Just patterns.
At the manor, he finds controlled chaos. Madelyn Jeffries stands statue-still, her grief carefully composed yet her hands betraying her with nervous movements. Victoria Ashford hovers like a sentinel, speaking for her friend, positioning herself strategically. And that unconscious gesture—Madelyn's hand moving to her pocket—tells Broadmoor more than any official statement.
The interviews reveal carefully chosen words, significant hesitations, glances exchanged between the women that speak of shared secrets. Outside, search parties assemble. Gamekeeper Thomas Gilchrist shows wariness beneath his confidence. Blacksmith Philip Pyke's eyes dart toward upper windows.
Everyone here knows something they're not saying. Everyone's story has gaps.
And Broadmoor intends to fill them—one question, one observation, one uncomfortable truth at a time.
