by Bree Wolf
Richard held her gaze and rolled his eyes. His lips, however, remained smiling, and he could see that she had understood him.
When Claudia had closed the door behind her, Richard turned his attention to Mr. Bragg. Although the man had been called on before to tend to the sick and ailing of Farnworth Manor, it seemed odd that he was here now. In the last few days, much had changed, and Richard could not deny that he had expected to never see that man again.
And yet, here he was.
Why?
“Are you in any pain, my lord?” Stepping toward the bed, Mr. Bragg allowed his gaze to sweep over him. “You seem to be recovering well.”
Richard shook his head, his eyes fixed on the man’s expression, wishing he had the ability to interpret it with more accuracy.
Once more clearing his throat, his eyes as restless as Richard’s limbs, Mr. Bragg proceeded to check first Richard’s pulse and then his breathing by holding a wooden tube to his chest and pressing his ear to the other end. “Normal,” he muttered as though to himself. “You truly seem to be recovering well.”
Squinting his eyes, Richard watched the other man, uncertain if he was displeased with the fact that Richard was recovering or rather awed by it.
Swallowing, Mr. Bragg straightened, his eyes meeting Richard’s. “May I have a look?” he asked, pointing to the quill in Richard’s throat.
Nodding, Richard watched the man as he bent closer, his eyes focused on the small incision. Mr. Bragg turned his head this way and that, looking at the quill from all angles.
Richard did not know what to make of his behaviour. Although he did not detect anything threatening in it, he could not help but wonder why Mr. Bragg had come to see to him. Would Evelyn not have insisted on doing so? Would she not have told Mr. Bragg so? In turn, that meant that the man was here without Evelyn’s knowledge, and if that were the case, then there was no telling what had motivated him to come.
Unexpectedly, Richard’s thoughts were drawn back to an afternoon a few weeks ago when Mr. Bragg had left Richard’s study, referring to Evelyn as his fiancée. Indeed, the man had been furious upon learning that Evelyn had accepted Richard’s proposal. Since that day, they had not seen him again until…
…Christmas Day dinner.
The night Richard had collapsed.
The night he had been poisoned.
Richard froze.
Apparently having taken note of the change in Richard’s posture, Mr. Bragg lifted his head, the look on his face one of careful calculation–as far as Richard could tell.
Cursing inwardly, Richard wished he was more adapt at reading others. If so, he might have seen this coming, would he not? In the least, he would not have allowed himself to be trapped alone with Mr. Bragg? A man who in all likelihood had only recently tried to murder him?
Richard’s eyes darted to the door. However, without the ability to speak, to call out, there was not even a slim chance for him to alert someone to his situation.
Mr. Bragg sighed, and his brows drew down. “You believe it was me,” he said, his gaze holding Richard’s. “You believe I am here to finish what I started.”
Unable to answer, Richard arched his brows in question. Then he reached out a hand and took the small lap desk from his bedside table, placing it on his legs. As he gathered the ink and quill, Richard kept watching Mr. Bragg out of the corner of his eye. Had he been mistaken? All of a sudden, there seemed to be nothing threatening about the man any longer.
Dipping the tip of the quill into the ink, Richard wrote, then held up the parchment to Mr. Bragg. Why are you here?
Mr. Bragg sighed. “To learn,” he mumbled, his head bowed as though in shame. “To see how she did it.”
Richard frowned, not having expected that comment. Was he speaking about Evelyn? About how she had saved his life?
“If I had been the one to tend to you that night,” Mr. Bragg finally said, his voice feeble as he sank onto the chair Claudia had vacated, “you would have died, my lord.” He shook his head. “I’ve never even heard of this method, and even if I had, I would never have dared to perform it.” He scoffed, “She’s good. Very good. On some level, I’ve always known that she had a rare skill for healing others, but I refused to see it. She is capable in a way I probably never will be.” Sadness clung to Mr. Bragg’s eyes before he suddenly straightened, his gaze full of determination. “But I want to learn. That is why I came here today.”
Absorbing everything the man had said, Richard once more put quill to parchment. Why did you come here alone? Why did you not speak to my wife?
Leaning forward, Mr. Bragg read, then sank back into his chair. His jaw looked tense as he seemed to grind his teeth together. “I know I ought to have, but I was not yet…ready to admit to my failings, my shortcomings.”
For a moment, Richard could have laughed, had the situation not been so dire. Was Mr. Bragg’s reason not the very same one that had kept Richard from confiding in another? Did the two of them truly have something in common?
The thought was ludicrous, and yet, it seemed to be true nonetheless.
Holding Richard’s gaze, Mr. Bragg asked, “May I take another look? I promise it will not take long. and then I’ll leave you in peace.”
Unable to detect any sign of deception, Richard nodded.
“Thank you.” Rising from the chair, Mr. Bragg stepped back toward the bed, his gaze locked on the quill. Slowly, he reached out a hand and carefully touched Richard’s throat about an inch from the incision. “Does that hurt?”
Richard slowly shook his head.
“Marvellous,” Mr. Bragg mumbled, bending down further as he attempted to look into the tube.
In that moment, the door flew open and Evelyn burst into the chamber, Sebastian following on her heel. His eyes darkened, and a growl rose from his throat as he pushed by her and grabbed Mr. Bragg by the jacket. Flinging the startled man around, Sebastian slammed him into the wall.
“Are you all right?” Evelyn asked breathlessly as she rushed to her husband ‘s side, her quick eyes examining the position of the quill. “Can you breathe?”
Richard nodded, placing a hand on her arm. Then he picked up the quill and wrote, It wasn’t him. He meant no harm.
Frowning, Evelyn raised her eyes to meet his. “Are you certain?” she asked, doubt clear in her voice. However, when Richard nodded, she turned to Sebastian without hesitation. “Lord Weston, please release him.”
“What?” Holding on to a struggling Mr. Bragg, Sebastian turned his head to stare at her with wide eyes. “Why?”
“We were wrong,” she explained, putting a gentle hand on Sebastian’s arm, urging him to release the other man. “It wasn’t him. Richard is certain of it.”
Cursing, Sebastian stepped back, his hands finally releasing Mr. Bragg, who slumped to the ground, coughing and wheezing. “Then why are you here?” Sebastian demanded.
Pushing himself to his feet, Mr. Bragg straightened his jacket, his gaze never quite meeting any of theirs. “I came to see…Lady Ashwood’s work. I assure you I had no intention of harming her husband.”
Once again, Sebastian cursed before turning to look at Richard. “Are you certain?” he asked once again.
Richard nodded, and he could see that his friend believed him–though reluctantly. The trust these two placed in him warmed Richard’s heart, and he realised that his life was not as empty as he had always thought it to be.
“If it wasn’t him,” Sebastian growled, long strides carrying up and down the room, his hands gesturing wildly, “then who? Who did this?”
Unfortunately, all Richard could do was shrug.
Chapter Forty – An Unforeseen Development
All his life, Richard had loved being on his own as he had always had a hard time getting along with people, especially in larger crowds. A friend here and there was fine, but not a gathering. Not of any kind. Not even of people close to him.
Now, thanks to Evelyn, all that had changed as Richard had g
ained a deeper understanding of those around him.
And especially now, trapped in his chamber, Richard felt as though he was close to losing his mind. On the one hand, he understood Evelyn’s concern and knew very well that he was too weak to walk even to the end of the corridor. However, on the other hand, he felt an almost desperate need to go outside and use his own legs. What annoyed him even more were his daily visitors!
Not that he did not treasure the knowledge that they cared for him–deeply even! It was rather the fact that they all treated him like an invalid. Certainly, he was somewhat incapacitated at present. However, the fact that they all felt like reading to him nearly drove him mad!
Every now and then, he wanted to scream at them, reminding them that he could not speak. His eyes, though, worked fine, and his hands were at the very least able to hold a book. Yet, he did not dare as he did not wish to insult them. After all, they did what they did out of kindness and affection. How could he fault them for this?
Thankfully, a few days after the man’s arrival, Evelyn and his mother escorted Mr. Lambert into Richard’s chamber so that he could meet the man himself. Although, of course, the man could be lying, Richard had to agree with his family’s assessment that Mr. Lambert was an honest and genuine, young man who was devoted to his family.
The only fault Richard did find in Mr. Lambert was that he bore the same somewhat pitying look on his face as did most of his family, which, however, in turn only meant that the man fit right in. That conclusion once more left them with no idea who had tried to poison Richard on Christmas Day. It was a constant dark cloud over all their heads, dampening the generally joyful atmosphere of the holidays.
The only one who seemed to take a somewhat twisted delight in Richard’s inability to speak was his childhood friend. Sebastian teased him endlessly as he always had when they had been children. However, Richard knew that his friend only tried to distract him, his own tense jaw attesting that he, too, was on edge about what to do.
Sighing, Richard leaned back in bed, trying his best to listen to his mother as she read to him from one book or another. Perhaps if he did pay attention, it would indeed distract him, and time would pass faster.
At present, it was the only hope Richard had.
Well, not the only. His greatest hope was that his wife would pay him a visit soon. At the thought, a smile curled up his lips. Evelyn was the only one who did not read to him.
When a knock sounded on the door, Richard pushed himself up, eager eyes turning to the entrance…only to be disappointed a moment later when instead of Evelyn, Maxwell stepped over the threshold.
“Yes, Maxwell,” his mother asked, “what is it?”
“I apologise for the intrusion, my lady,” his footman said, respectfully inclining his head. “However, Miss Davenport is asking for you.”
“Oh!” Closing the book, Richard’s mother rose from the chair, her brows in a slight frown as her eyes grew momentarily distant. “I better see what the matter is. I hope she is not feeling unwell. If you’ll excuse me, Richard.” Smiling at him, she then turned to his footman. “Would you mind reading to him? It is the only distraction he has these days.”
Richard could have groaned. He felt as though he was a child again, and he did not care for it in the least.
“Certainly, my lady,” Maxwell agreed, taking the book and holding the door open for her. Once his footman had closed it once more, he stepped toward the bed. However, instead of seating himself and opening the book, he placed it on Richard’s lap desk, sitting on his bedside table.
Grateful, Richard offered the young man a smile, but stopped when he took note of the odd expression on his face. Arms linked behind his back, Maxwell stood with his lips pressed into a thin line as though it was all he could do not to lash out at Richard. His eyes were fixed on him, dark and accusing, and the snarl on his face sent a shiver down Richard’s back.
It was him!
His mind screamed the words, and yet, a part of Richard did not dare believe them. After all, what reason could Maxwell have to seek to harm him? Had Richard not given him a chance when he had come to Farnworth Manor seeking employment without anything to recommend him? At least nothing besides his honest countenance and assurance that he was hard-working and more than willing to prove himself if given the chance? And had Maxwell not done precisely as he had promised?
From the very first, he had seemed utterly devoted to serving Richard’s family, often anticipating in advance when he would be needed. Richard had been proud of the young man, giving him more responsibilities as time wore on. And Maxwell had fulfilled them all to his greatest satisfaction.
What had changed?
Or had he been fooled? Had Maxwell sought to harm him even then and Richard had not seen it?
Looking at his footman, Richard found the man’s usual good-natured and respectful look had vanished. Instead, dark fury rested in his eyes as he stepped closer. “It never occurred to you that it could have been me, did it?” He laughed, but it was a dark, twisted laugh. “I was hiding in plain sight, and yet, you never saw me.”
Richard swallowed, his mind racing with what to do. Why had Maxwell come to him now? Why was he revealing himself to be the culprit?
Gritting his teeth, Richard knew that the only reason Maxwell would dare to do so was that he had come once more to end Richard’s life. No doubt, he planned to finish him off and then escape the estate before anyone knew what had happened.
“But I should have expected no less, should I?” Maxwell demanded, a sneer of disgust on his face. “Your kind never sees anyone beyond those of equal station. You never look at those you deem unworthy. This is your world, and all we are good for is to serve you. Never once do you stop to think about what we want, what we deserve!” With each word, Maxwell’s voice grew darker, his feet slowly carrying him closer.
Richard knew that there was very little he could do once Maxwell chose to attack him. At present, his strength was no match for the man’s who was currently advancing on him. Would he try to poison him again? Or had he brought a weapon? A knife perhaps?
As his mind contemplated all possibilities, Richard suddenly realised how Maxwell planned to kill him a moment before the young man shot forward.
Renewed panic claimed Richard’s heart when Maxwell’s hand grabbed a hold of the quill in his throat. Reflexively, his arms jerked upwards, his hands wrapping themselves around the young man’s wrist. Momentarily, Richard thought he could prevent Maxwell from pulling back his arm and with it the quill. But it was a fool’s hope.
Grinning devilishly, Maxwell tightened his grip…and then jerked back his arm, pulling the quill out of Richard’s throat. “It is time someone pays!” he snarled, watching in delight as Richard’s hands came to wrap around his throat.
Eyes wide, Richard stared at his footman as his lungs began to burn with lack of air.
Chapter Forty-One – The Final Clue
Sitting in the drawing room, Evelyn tended to their guests as was expected of the new mistress of Farnworth Manor. Although Mr. and Mrs. Lambert were utterly wonderful people and their daughters Mildred and Theresa a joy to watch as they fawned over Lady Northfield’s son Philip, Evelyn wished she could simply rise and leave to see to her husband.
Glancing around the room, she took note of Lord Weston and Mr. Lambert discussing who-knew-what over by the windows as well as Charlotte and Claudia as they sat with Lady Northfield, watching the delighted children. The look on Lady Northfield’s face spoke of utter adoration as she looked at her precious son while the other two women looked rather wistful. Still, Charlotte’s eyes held hope and promise of a future she longed for while Claudia could not quite hide the heartache Evelyn knew she had to feel. Especially now that she knew Charlotte would also be a mother soon.
Only Charlotte would be allowed to keep her child.
Evelyn sighed, certain that there was something wrong about a world that forced a mother to give up a child she wanted.
&n
bsp; If only there was something that could be done! And yet, Evelyn had to admit that she could not think of a solution that would preserve both, love as well as reputation. Although she had berated her husband for being unwilling to look for a different solution, she knew now she had done him wrong. It had simply been easier to blame him instead of admitting that her hands were tied as well as his.
In the end, nothing could prevent Claudia from being ruined if she decided to keep her child in order to raise it herself. And her child, too, would not fare well. Never would it be received in fine society. Not as a bastard. Not in this world.
Still, giving away her child would break Claudia’s heart. If not now, then somewhere down the line. It was inevitable.
Entering the drawing room at a quick pace, Camilla gave Evelyn a quick smile and then hastened to her daughter’s side. Evelyn wondered if she could take her leave now that her mother-in-law had returned. Perhaps in a few minutes.
Excitement rushed through her at the thought of seeing her husband, and Evelyn shook her head at herself. When had his presence become the very air she breathed?
Seeing mother and daughter exchange a few words, Evelyn stopped when both their faces turned into frowns, confusion written in their eyes. Concerned, Evelyn excused herself to Mrs. Lambert and quickly hastened over to where mother and daughter stood by the pianoforte. “Is something wrong?” she asked. “Is Richard all right?”
Camilla turned to her, a gentle smile on her face. “He is fine, my dear. Do not worry.” She glanced at Claudia. “No, this was merely a misunderstanding I suppose.”
“What do you mean?” Evelyn asked, glancing from Camilla to Claudia and back.
“Maxwell came to fetch me from Richard’s chamber,” her mother-in-law explained, “saying that Claudia had asked for me.”
“But I didn’t,” Claudia objected, an apologetic look in her eyes as she turned to her mother. “I’m sorry. I do not mean to offend you, but I did not ask him to fetch you. I’m perfectly fine.”