The heavy, cream colored paper trembled in her delicate hands. Her vision swam and blurred as several warm droplets of saltwater dripped onto the letter.
"My dearest Constance," it read. "I am so sorry for the unfortunate situation you must now find yourself in."
Her hands crumpled the sides of the letter, and she gasped in inner pain. This was all wrong. All wrong. The darkness that had been slowly lifting these past months suddenly shrouded her mind again, and she experienced the pain of loss so much more deeply this time.
Aloysius had become so much more to her than her previous guardian ever had been. He'd shown a great tenderness and care that to her memory, had not been shown to her before. In his kindness and generosity he had gently brought her into the present day without forcing or coercion. Everything he had done for her was with the greatest compassion and understanding.
And now he was gone. Gone, and how had she ever survived before, without his guidance?
Proctor, the ever-vigilant sentinel stood in the shadow of the library door, patiently waiting for her to finish with the letter. She could feel his presence, a gentle pressure to compose herself. She took a steadying breath, and with a great effort of will, read Pendergast's final words to her. Quickly reaching the end, she reread it and gently folded the paper back on it's crease, carefully sliding it back into it's envelope.
"Proctor," she said quietly, remaining rooted in her seat, "Please summon the Sergeant. I wish to speak with him about..." Her voice trailed off, and her eyes unfocused ever so slightly.
"Miss?" Proctor asked with some concern.
Constance snapped her mind back into focus and returned her attention to the chauffeur. "Yes. I'm sorry. I need to speak to sergeant D'agosta concerning Aloysius' final wishes. If you would please. It's..." She trailed off once again, her eyes clouding with fresh tears. She choked them back, struggling to regain her proper composure. "It's of the utmost importance. There isn't much time."
Proctor bowed slightly and was gone, leaving the woman to her thoughts. There was nothing more to be done than to wait for the sergeant.