CWMBR 8

Chapter 8

***

Coleman looked stunned, unsure of what mistake he had made. Ain glanced at him, then looked around the mansion once more. Her gaze was slow but attentive.

"Where is Bridget?"

"She has a medical appointment."

Apparently, the doctor's appointment had caused them to reschedule their meal.

Finding the excuse acceptable, Ain nodded and walked away. But the hostess's room was empty.

Coleman, who was following him and explaining to him how diligently he was maintaining the manor, looked at Ain curiously. He had assumed Ain would come to his own room, which was attached to the hostess’s.

"I thought you said she was seeing a doctor?"

Coleman's eyes widened at the question, then he flashed an awkward smile.

"Well, the lady was getting ready to leave............ She's in the other room with some packing issues."

His excuse was odd, but Ain didn't get a chance to ask as Coleman strode ahead, offering to lead the way. With a lazy glance at the empty hostess's room, Ain followed him anyway.

The direction Coleman was leading him was toward the guest rooms in the far corner of the mansion, far from the master bedroom, the largest and most ornate room in the mansion, which was accessed via the central staircase. It wasn't a good place to be, considering that even with the door firmly closed, you could still hear the faintest sound of conversation.

"Magnus will be under the inspector's thumb for a while..........."

"I don't think you.................. deserve it."

The old voice from the other side of the door was familiar. Ain frowned involuntarily.

Magnus Barnes. He was an elderly doctor who ran a small clinic. Apparently connected to the Penningtons in the past, he had taken an unusual interest in Bridget and that was why Ain couldn’t help but remember him. He often visited Glynford to check on Bridget, and, coincidentally, diagnosed her pregnancy during one of his visits.

As far as he knew, Magnus's clinic was in Elston, a city some distance from here. It was too far for him to travel to and from here.

Why call in Magnus when there were plenty of doctors in nearby Breford?

It was an inefficient and incomprehensible choice, rather than a simple consistency on seeing a familiar doctor.

But was there some kind of deal between the two of them, some secret they shared that other doctors wouldn't?

When they first found out Bridget was pregnant, Ain didn't think to call another doctor because Magnus had taken care of Bridget from the beginning. Perhaps if he had called a second doctor to reassess instead of just sitting on her hands, the outcome would have been different.

The thought made him feel uncomfortable.

Bang!

When he opened the door, the first thing he saw was a small room. Considering it was a guest room, it was quite modest, and Ain couldn't help but wonder what on earth Bridget was doing in a room like this.

Unless the two of them were trying to do something under the radar, Ain didn't like Magnus to begin with, but suspicion on top of bad feelings made his attitude even colder. 

Bridget wasn't surprised when the door opened without a knock, and there stood Magnus, hunched over, proving that he had indeed been checking her. As if to prove that he had indeed been attending to her, there was a bag lying on the floor, and an unopened suitcase at the foot of the bed where Bridget sat.

She said she was packing. It was strange to see Bridget actually getting ready to leave the mansion, even though he had criticized her for not packing in advance. It was suspicious that she was packing as if she had been waiting.

How many days had it been since he'd made his threat?

"You’re not leaving."

"I'm getting ready."

Bridget's answer was dull. Ain remembered the conversation he'd overheard outside the door earlier. Something about an inspector.

It sounded like the royal family was moving quickly. It hadn't been officially announced, but Magnus was the doctor who had diagnosed Bridget's pregnancy, so he would be under investigation. Perhaps Magnus would be the first to break the news.

Ain narrowed her eyes.

"You're not trying to run away because you're afraid there's an investigation?"

It was a reasonable suspicion, for unless she was guilty of something, why would she pack up and run as soon as he said he was going to formally investigate her?

Ain, who had just dismissed Magnus as a meddlesome man, glanced at the suitcase. Through the opening, he could see what he assumed was a cloth.

"I don't mind you leaving, but I need to know where you're going."

If she went into hiding, they couldn't be able to find her, and it would be an unnecessary waste of resources. In response to Ain's question, Bridget spoke in a dry voice.

"You must be tired, coming home to find out just that."

Her voice was like a blade of grass, dry and twisted in the sun. Thin, parched, and wilted, as if it would crumble at the slightest effort.

It was almost as disturbing as the night before, when she had cried with a sickly face. It was all a front.

Bridget had gotten better at feigning weakness. He had been fooled by her in Glynford, but he didn't want to be anymore.

“Don’t continue with your half-assed talk.”

If he prolonged the conversation, he feared he might become as stupid as had been and lose his judgment. In such a crisis, Ain maintained his aloof demeanor. Bridget obediently complied with his wishes.

"I’m going to the Abbey in Glynford."

Was there a monastery in Glynford?

It must have been very small and not at all famous, because he couldn't even remember if it existed.

"It's my parents' anniversary soon, and I want to honor them somewhere without all the fuss."

It was unlikely that Bridget would be so calculating as to sell her dead parents to save face. Even knowing this, Ain rummaged through his memory out of habit. He didn't know the exact date of Mr. and Mrs. Pennington's death, but he knew it had happened during the height of the rainy season. This was the current rainy season.

"You can't hide in a monastery and avoid investigators."

"I know."

Bridget was uncharacteristically calm. Ain thought again of the first time he'd seen her in months. Her complexion pale as if she could collapse at any moment, her eyes shining with a faint anticipation for him.

Her face was the same, pale with no trace of blood, but her demeanor was stoic, as if she had no emotions at all.

He wondered how a person could change so much in just a few days, and when he remembered Bridget from Glynford, he couldn't believe that she was the same person. He would rather believe it was someone else.

"Is there anything else you need to know?"

Bridget before she came to the mansion, or more accurately, before the wedding and separation.

She was a woman who could be enraged or angry, laughing or crying at his every word.

No matter how he treated her.

"If there isn’t, I'm going to pack my things, so please leave."

But the Bridget in front of him was uncannily calm: no fear of her impending sin or the shock of the sudden annulment suit. Nor did she show any resentment or betrayal toward her husband, who hadn't been seen for months and whose sudden reappearance had upended her life.

Ain felt strange, but he didn't know how to express it.

So he just left the room.

***

He should have left the mansion sooner.

With hindsight, Ain sat at the kitchen table with the sound of the rain pounding against the window as music. Coleman, shadows under his eyes from dealing with an uncomfortable host, explained the meager table in a hesitant voice. "I apologize, sir. I ordered groceries in a hurry, but it's been raining so hard that all the roads are closed."

It was as if they wouldn't have ordered more groceries if Ain hadn't stayed, which was an odd thing to say. This mansion had a hostess they were supposed to serve.

"Don't you normally store enough groceries?"

"What? Of course we do!"

Ain glanced at the food that was placed within easy reach, then at the other empty spots. The dishes were only in front of him.

Bridget always ate in her room, and it looked like it would be the same today. He wondered if she'd been using her pregnancy as an excuse to keep the hired help at her beck and call because she couldn't be bothered to walk to the dining room.

But her wrist, which looked like it was going to break at any moment, looked so thin that he honestly doubted she was even eating.

***

Support me @ https://ko-fi.com/doraaaaaaaa