Noirtier sat waiting in his armchair, dressed entirely in black from head to toe. His paralyzed body remained utterly motionless, yet his sharp eyes burned with a fierce, almost defiant intelligence that seemed to command the room. When the three people he had summoned finally entered, he slowly turned his gaze toward the door in silent instruction. His loyal servant immediately understood the gesture, stepped forward without a word, and closed it quietly behind them, sealing the room in tense stillness.
"Listen carefully," Villefort whispered harshly to his daughter Valentine, who couldn't quite conceal the joy sparkling in her eyes or the tremor in her breath. "If your grandfather tries to communicate anything that would delay your wedding, I forbid you to understand him."
Valentine's cheeks flushed pink, but she said nothing.
Villefort stepped closer to the old man in the wheelchair. "Father, this is Franz d'Epinay. You requested to see him. We've all wanted this meeting, and I trust it will finally convince you that your objections to Valentine's marriage are completely unfounded."
Noirtier's only response was a look so cold and piercing that Villefort felt his blood freeze in his veins.
The old man's eyes moved deliberately toward Valentine, beckoning her closer. Within moments, thanks to the countless hours she'd spent learning to interpret her grandfather's limited communication, she understood he was asking for a key. His gaze then fixed on a drawer in a small chest positioned between the windows.
Valentine opened the drawer and found a single key. "Is this what you need, Grandfather?"
His eyes shifted toward an ancient secretary desk that had been neglected for years, everyone assumed it contained nothing but worthless old papers.
"Do you want me to open the secretary?" Valentine asked.
His eyes blinked once. Yes.
"The ones on the sides?"
Valentine pulled open the middle drawer and retrieved a bundle of papers. "Is this it?"
She methodically removed every document until the drawer sat completely empty. "There's nothing left, Grandfather."
Noirtier's eyes locked onto the dictionary resting nearby.
"Oh! You need to spell something." Valentine began pointing to each letter of the alphabet. When she reached the letter S, the old man's eyes commanded her to stop.
She flipped through the dictionary to the S section and scanned the words. "Secret? Is there a secret compartment?"
"Who knows how to open it?" Valentine glanced around the room.
Noirtier's gaze moved to the door where his servant had exited moments ago.
"Barrois? He knows?" The most update n0vels are published on noᴠelfire.net
Valentine hurried to the door and called for the servant. Meanwhile, Villefort's impatience made sweat roll down his temples, and Franz stood frozen in confusion, wondering what was happening.
The elderly servant entered. "Barrois," Valentine said, her voice trembling slightly, "my grandfather wants me to open that secretary drawer, but there's a hidden spring only you know about. Will you open it?"
Barrois looked to Noirtier for confirmation.
Obey, the old man's intelligent eyes commanded.
Barrois reached into the empty drawer and pressed a concealed mechanism. A false bottom popped up, revealing a bundle of papers tied with a black ribbon.
"Is this what you wanted, sir?" Barrois asked.
"Should I give these to Mr. Villefort?"
"To Mr. Franz d'Epinay?"
Franz took a startled step forward. "To me, sir?"
Franz accepted the papers from Barrois with trembling hands. He glanced at the cover and read aloud: "To be given, after my death, to General Durand, who shall bequeath this packet to his son, with instructions to preserve it as containing an important document."
Franz looked up, bewildered. "What do you want me to do with this?"
"Keep it sealed, obviously," Villefort said quickly, his voice tight with tension.
No, Noirtier's eyes flashed urgently.
"Do you want him to read it?" Valentine asked softly.
"You heard him, Baron. My grandfather wants you to read the document," Valentine said to Franz.
"Then let's sit down," Villefort said impatiently. "This will take some time."
Sit down, Noirtier's eyes agreed.
Villefort collapsed into a chair. Valentine remained standing beside her father, while Franz stood before the old man, holding the mysterious papers. His hands shook as he untied the black ribbon.
"Read," Noirtier's eyes commanded.
In the profound silence that followed, Franz began: "Extract from the Report of a meeting of the Secret Revolutionary Club in the Saint-Jacques District, held February 5th, 1815."
Franz stopped abruptly, his face draining of color. "February 5th, 1815... that's the day my father was murdered."
Valentine and Villefort stood speechless. Only Noirtier's eyes moved, clearly saying: Continue.
"But it was after leaving this club meeting that my father disappeared," Franz said, his voice breaking.
Noirtier's unwavering gaze insisted: Read.
Franz's voice grew stronger as he read on, describing in greater detail how his father had been invited to a secret meeting, how he had agreed, without hesitation, to be blindfolded and taken to an unknown location, and how, upon arrival, he had been received with solemn ceremony and welcomed into a conspiracy dedicated to restoring the exiled Emperor to power.
"Wait," Franz interrupted himself, frowning in confusion. "My father was a royalist. They shouldn't have needed to question his loyalty to the King or test his devotion in such a manner."
"And that," Villefort interjected smoothly, "is precisely why I respected your father so deeply, my dear Franz. Shared political beliefs and a common sense of honor create strong, unshakable bonds between men."
Read again, Noirtier's eyes demanded with unwavering insistence.
Franz continued, his voice growing increasingly strained and unsteady as he read how his father had been confronted, how he had been asked once more to join the conspiracy, and finally, how he had refused with calm dignity.
"'I cannot break my oath to the King,'" Franz read his father's firm words aloud. "'You may not acknowledge him, but I do. He made me a baron and a field marshal, and I will never forget that I owe these honors and my very name to him.'"