"The portion you drank came from a pitcher I mixed up early this morning. If you prepared it in the evening, it would be ready once you awaken."
There was a knock at the front door, and Brianna felt guilty for taking up so much of Madam Hershal's time. They had obtained more help than they came for, and Brianna felt immense amounts of gratitude. Knowing for certain she was with child would allow her to move forward and construct her plans accordingly.
"That is the woman I made the drink for this morning," Madam Hershal informed them as she stood up. Both girls stood as well, and Ashley went over to Madam Hershal and grasped her hands.
"Thank you for your assistance." Ashley's voice was thick with emotion. "You once again have been a tremendous help."
"I can't express my appreciation enough," Brianna added. "How much do I owe for your services today?"
"Nothing. It was an honor for me to help a friend of Ashley's. She stood by me during a very trying period, and I owe her immensely."
"Nonsense, it was you who was there for me."
The knock sounded again, drawing their attention back to the door.
"We should be on our way," Brianna reminded them.
Madam Hershal nodded and then led them down the long hallway.
"Before you leave, I would like you to know that although I'm no longer practicing midwifery, you may seek me out anytime you desire," Madam Hershal assured them.
"Thank you," Brianna said.
As they made their way back to the house, Brianna thought about her next course of action now that her condition was confirmed. Telling Richard would not be an easy task, and determining the time and place would be equally difficult. She refused to think about his reaction to the news, since she had no desire to add to her worry. Taking a deep breath, she decided to trust he would be able to calmly accept their new circumstances.
Chapter 13
Richard sighed in frustration. Nothing was going according to plan. A week passed since the fire and break-in, yet they had not made any progress finding the culprit. The only information they discovered was some of the staff recently hired, both at his home and the club, were working for someone else. Their failure to return to their posts following the attack offered a clear indication of which staff members were involved.
Jonathan remained convinced it was Kirkwood, but without proof, they could not approach him. Through this ordeal, no one had been affected more than Greyson. He ran himself ragged spending all his days and nights at the club. The culprit clearly intended to return, considering the stolen key, and the fact didn't sit well with any of them. Although the door locks were changed, Greyson determined to catch them or, at the very least, prevent a reoccurrence. Richard knew his friend held himself responsible for the break-in. Greyson even went as far as to offer to make reparations using his personal funds, to which Richard and Jonathan refused.
As if Richard didn't have enough to worry about, his solicitor had requested his presence yesterday with more grievances from Stonemede. The estate was too large for the steward to handle alone considering his lack of experience. Discovering a solution to petty complaints from the tenants went beyond the man's capabilities.
Richard rubbed his temples. He needed to quickly fix the problems here so he could return to Stonemede, but that thought only raised another problem: Brianna. After giving her a week to settle on an answer, he expected some type of communication from her at least hinting at her choice.
Without having an opportunity to speak with her since the night he presented his suit, his patience wore thin. On the rare occasion he spotted her, she never approached him and hardly ever made eye contact. Elizabeth too offered him no help, since Brianna appeared to be avoiding her as well.
Richard stood, for he could handle this no more. The need for a distraction overwhelmed him. Without a word to Hopkins, he stalked out of his study, grabbed his greatcoat, and pushed open the door. Stepping out into the rain, he allowed the sensation of the cold wet droplets to help ease his frustration.
When he could not take it any longer, he swung his coat over his shoulders and made his way down the steps. There was no intended destination. He had no desire to be seen by his friends and questioned about his miserable state. Coming to a crossroad, he made a quick decision and turned toward Barton's.
The walk was short, and soon he stepped through the double doors, grateful to be out of the rain. Richard felt comforted by the sight before him. Men congregated about around card tables or were seated quietly conversing. The sound of chatter, clinking of glasses, and shuffling of cards was a familiar and welcoming diversion. Richard's muscles relaxed, for he had nothing to fear in this setting.
After ridding himself of his soaking coat, he found an open table and joined in. His opponents were a jolly bunch, and he happily lost himself within the game.
Hours later, Richard found himself content. He sat at a lone table near the back of the club, sipping brandy. The quality paled in comparison to what he was accustomed to, but after the third glass, he could no longer tell the difference. In addition, his pockets were slightly heavier with his winnings. It certainly was no fortune, and honestly Greyson would have been embarrassed by his performance, but Richard was pleased to leave the tables after earning a profit.
"Stonemede, I didn't expect to see you here," the unwelcome voice of Kirkwood came from behind him.
"Why not? I hold memberships to multiple clubs." Due to the brandy, he allowed too much satisfaction to shine through his statement. He actually held memberships to all the popular clubs, as he and his friends deemed it necessary to keep up with the doings of the competition.
"I would have thought you were the type of man who fixes his own problems, not delegates them out to servants or other hired help. Considering the problems you are having, you should not be here enjoying yourself," he rebuked, venom dripping from every word.
"On the contrary, I believe this is a perfect time to go out and enjoy myself. If you allow every small problem to remove your enjoyment from life, you will forever be bitter and unhappy."
"From what I heard, you and your club sustained more than a small problem."
"That all depends on how you look at it." Richard eyed Kirkwood closely. His face burned bright red, and his hands were balled into fists. Under Richard's scrutiny, he appeared to be trying to control his temper, but his attempt at a smile was not successful.
"In the name of enjoyment, would you care to play a round of cards?" Kirkwood's eyes gleamed as he motioned to the deck on the table.
Richard was not a fool, and he knew his skills at cards could not compare to that of Kirkwood's. Although an active member of the clubs, he had never become as proficient at cards as Greyson. It had not been necessary for him to spend his time in that way, and the idea of gaining or losing everything in one moment never appealed to him.
"I appreciate the offer, but I have already exceeded my allotted time here." Richard swallowed his last shot of brandy and stood. "I imagine I'll see you around."
"I never took you for a coward," Kirkwood pressed, and Richard froze. Knowing Kirkwood only wanted to force him into a game didn't make refusing the challenge any easier. Without responding to the bait, Richard flexed his tight fingers and continued his walk to the exit. Considering the amount of spirits he consumed, it took every ounce of control he possessed to pull himself through the door and away from Kirkwood.
Ravenhurst was not far from him, so he decided to try to encourage Greyson to quit the place for now and join him. If he was left to his own devices, the idea of returning to Barton's may once again become favorable. Given another opportunity, he didn't believe he would refuse the overwhelming desire to maim Kirkwood.
Entering the club, he noticed Nathanial absent from his normal post. Although other members of the staff were present, the customary guard Greyson insisted upon remained missing. Strange, it was not typical of his friend to forget something. Something was definitely wrong.
Stalking to the back of the club, Richard ignored calls for him to join in with other guests. He didn't stop until he arrived in front of the office. After discovering the door locked, he knocked.
The door burst open and before him stood Greyson, appearing quite agitated. His hair was askew, his clothes wrinkled, and his eyes were wild. In all the years Richard had known Greyson, he never witnessed him in such a state. The urge to stare openmouthed was undeniable.
"What is going on?" Richard demanded, trying to mask the shock in his voice.
"I'm sorry, Richard. I didn't know it was you. Come in."