author's note. Like a lot of my stories, this one evolved out of something totally unrelated. I'm a big Jane Austen fan (because I'm female, and have a pulse) so I got Lost in Austen off of Netflix, and it was actually pretty meh, except that Wickham was totally hot. (Go on, look it up on YouTube; you'll see what I mean.) So I decided to see what else the actor had been in and an episode or Poirot turned up. I don't usually watch a lot of Poirot because his accent irritates the heck out of me (I love the Marple ones, though) but the hotness of Tom Riley made it well worth a watch.

As convoluted as the plot was, I did really feel for Lady Boynton's children. I thought that Raymond's little wrap up was a bit too glib, considering what he'd been through, but of course it's a mystery show and not given to exploring the long term psychological ramifications of that sort of thing. I did think it would be a little more believable if some of these things were addressed (and as I said with my Disturbia story, the mother-son relationship is a lot more important than it gets credit for). And I did really like Dr. Caroline Bingley, err, Sarah King in this. If you're read my stories you know I love a good Awkward Romance Story (I really wish FFN would create a genre category for this) so I really couldn't resist.

Raymond: I'm not wounded.

Dr. Sarah King: That's debatable.

"Raymond Boynton. I might have known I'd find you here." Sarah's voice was as warm as the night.

Raymond, leaning on the broad railing of the Constantinople's third floor verandah, turned to face her with a glass in his hand. "It's Pierce, actually."

Sarah blinked. "Excuse me?"

"It's Raymond Pierce. I didn't see any reason to take Lord Boynton's name when she married him." He smiled. "None of us did. It was... our one small act of rebellion."

"I didn't know that."

"Neither did most people," Raymond said with a small shrug. "They just assumed."

"Well, I'm sorry for assuming," she said. She watched him take a sip - more like a gulp - of his drink. "What are you going to do now?"

Raymond swirled his glass, so that the ice tinkled encouragingly. "I was thinking," he said with perfect seriousness, "of drinking myself to death."

Sarah put her hand over his before he could raise the glass again. "Don't do that," she said. "Please."

A kiss in the alley was one thing, but her tenderness was another. Unnerved, Raymond turned away quickly. "Come to say goodbye?"

"I know it's none of my business," Sarah said. "But I need to know that you'll be all right."

"You're right," Raymond said. His back was to her, but she could read the slump of his shoulders. "It's none of your business."

"What an awful week this has been for you," she continued with feeling. "Your mother - and the nanny - and the family business..."

"I don't know," Raymond said, still facing the darkness. "If you tote up the ledger columns, it may still be a net gain." He snorted. "Then again, if I hadn't come on this pointless trip, she'd still be dead, and I could have stopped the collapse. He only pulled it off because we were over here."

"Was it very bad? Have you lost everything?"

Raymond turned back to her. He'd had enough to drink that the words flowed easily now. In vino veritas. "Everything," he said, raising his glass cheerfully. "Bottoms up!"

"But surely you managed to put something away -"

"Oh no," he said, "she was much too sharp for that. Of course Lord Boynton got all he asked for and more. But the girls and I? We've got the clothes on our backs, that's about it. She didn't even give us an allowance."

"Is there any chance the company will recover?"

"I doubt we'll make any of it back. The American market is a shambles right now. We were living on borrowed time."

"Can't you -" Sarah laughed. "Listen to me. I must sound like the gold digger your mother believed me to be."

"Oh, you're not a gold digger," he said casually. "I've had the daughters of half the families on the East Coast thrown at me for the past few years. I can smell a gold digger a mile away."

"You can?"

"Oh, yeah. The only reason I'm not married by now is that she hadn't found anyone good enough."

"How romantic." Sarah smiled. "I do hope you and your sisters will be all right," she said. "I know how hard it is to live penniless."

Raymond shrugged. "There's something else you didn't know about me," he said.

"What's that?"

"Every penny that Pierce Holding's made over the last seven years... it was all my doing."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You are a mystery, Raymond Pierce."

"See, I figured out early on why she wanted a boy."

"Why?"

"I was her little pawn in the stock market," Raymond said, enunciating the word. "That's what she'd brought me up to be. She even sent me to Harvard to study business so that I could take over for her."

"Oh," Sarah said. "Well, that must have been..."

"It was the best time of my life," Raymond said. "Of course I wasn't completely free from her influence. Money like hers gives you a long reach. But I could put sugar in my tea if I wanted to."

Sarah laughed. "Sweet tooth?"

"Something like that," Raymond agreed. "Jinny and Carol have never quite forgiven me for it. It wasn't freedom, really. More like, time off for good behavior. But they never got even that."

"I found out I had the brains for business," Raymond shrugged. "Not quite the idiot she'd always told me I was." The ice in Raymond's glass had melted by now, and he traced the condensation with his thumb. "I got done in three years, he said, because she'd made it clear she wouldn't pay for four. And I found myself, at the age of twenty, back in my mother's house, and expected to earn my keep."

"But you must have been quite good at it."

Raymond smiled evilly. "There's a reason they call it 'making a killing,' you know. In order to succeed in the stock market you've got to be ruthless, and I'm ruthless, all right. I learned from the best."

"Oh."

"Anytime I dismantled a subsidiary, or undercut a competitor, I just imagined her hideous face, and it was quite easy. I may have been playing right into her hands, but I did it well. The financial section of one of the New York papers actually did a write-up of me, a few years back. They actually used the word 'brilliant.'" He smiled wryly.

"Your mother must have hated that," Sarah realized.

"She did," Raymond agreed. For two years, she'd brought it up at every chance. The day before she died, Lady Boynton had leaned over to Carol at the breakfast table with a sneer. Will you please tell the brilliant financier that his top button's undone? "It was a... bizarre double life. I'd make half a mil. in the markets, and then trudge home to a supper of gruel and a cold bath."

"You're exaggerating," Sarah accused.

Raymond tilted his glass towards her. "Not much," he said. "She didn't believe in hot baths. Said they were a..."

"A sign of weak character?" Sarah finished for him.

Raymond nodded. "I know what you're thinking," he said.

"Really?" Sarah folded her hands. "And what is that?"

"You're wondering why I didn't run away," he said. "Why I didn't leave, go into business for myself."

"Well?" Sarah took the bait. "Why didn't you?"

"For one thing," he said, my sisters. "She would have taken it out on them. For another..." He signaled the waiter to refill his glass, ignoring the disapproval on Sarah's face. "On my twenty-first birthday, Mother called me into her study. I didn't know what was coming, but I knew it couldn't be good. I was already working for Pierce Holding by then, so I was familiar with the way the business worked. She showed me some papers she had in a drawer."

"What kind of papers?"

"You're a doctor and not a businessman, so I don't think I could explain."

"Try."

Raymond tried. "She'd had someone make up papers - and I know she didn't do it herself, she didn't like to get her hands dirty - that showed that I was stealing from the company. Pretty thoroughly." He grimaced. "She explained that all she had to do was fill in a few relevant dates, and it would guarantee that no employer would touch me with a ten-foot pole. That is, if I was lucky, and didn't go to prison for fraud."

Sarah breathed out. Raymond closed his eyes for a moment. He could still remember the horror he'd felt at the realization that she would own him for the rest of his natural life. She'd locked the desk, and as he turned to go, she couldn't resist a parting jab. Happy birthday, Raymond, she had crowed triumphantly.

"I know you think I'm pathetic," he went on. "A grown man, terrified of that poor feeble old woman."

"I don't -"

"But I wasn't the only one. Her own chauffeur killed himself to get away from her. Left behind a wife and two kids."

Sarah shivered. "How awful."

"She always got what she wanted. Seven years, I worked for that poisonous old hag. Oh well." He shrugged again. "It's all gone now."

"I am so sorry, Raymond."

"It's only money. And none of it was mine anyway." He grinned a little. "Impressive feat - I'll have to ask this Lesley guy how he did it."

"Do you remember Lesley?" Sarah asked. "From... before?"

"No, I was too young," Raymond said. "And Carol made a point of keeping some of the more... unpleasant things from Jinny and me when we were little. Still haven't decided if she did us a favor or not."

"Well, you must hate him now," Sarah suggested. "All that hard work, down the drain."

"I don't hate him."

"You don't strike me as the forgiving type."

"I'm not." Raymond looked into his glass. "Hating him doesn't seem worth the effort. But there's something that bothers me about it."

"I thought so."

"He was with us for... a few weeks at the most."

"I don't follow."

Raymond slouched. "I had twenty-seven years of it, and now I find that perfect strangers have taken away every opportunity for revenge." He smiled bitterly. "What's left for me to do - spit on her grave?"

"Did you want her dead?"

"I did." He didn't care now whether she thought the worst of him. "Carol and I had a... I guess you could call it a game we'd play. Once in a great while, when the torment was particularly unbearable, we'd think of all the ways it could be done. It sounds horrible, I know, but I think it helped her stay sane."

"I see." But Sarah wasn't shocked. She'd dabbled in psychology - she knew that the mind does all kinds of things to protect itself.

"We didn't tell Jinny - we couldn't. She's such an innocent, she would have thought we were serious."

"But you never acted on it," Sarah said. Raymond looked at her strangely. "Oh, really. We all know you aren't the murderer."

"No," Raymond said. "But as I told Poirot, it was only because I lacked the moral courage."

"I don't believe that."

Raymond didn't concern himself over whether she believed him or not. "So you see, I owe Celia and that Dr. Gerard a thank you. Well, if they hadn't killed themselves, anyway."

"Raymond," Sarah said, "correct me if I'm wrong, but when the truth about Jinny was revealed... Well, you looked a little strange."

"Of course I did," he retorted. "It was shocking news."

"But you didn't look shocked," she persisted. "You looked almost, well, jealous."

"Jealous," he repeated. "Is that the kind of person you think I am?"

"I don't know," Sarah replied. "When you found out... what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that Jinny..." Raymond sighed. Funny how Sarah had a knack of finding these things out. "Well, after everything, she had a mother and father who loved her very much. Enough to kill for her. Not a lot of people have that."

"Not you, for example."

He shrugged. "At the end of the day, I still don't know who I am. Some mother's child that she didn't want."

"Raymond, you mustn't -"

"So yes," Raymond interrupted, "I guess you could say I'm jealous. Go ahead and think I am a cold, heartless, selfish -"

"I don't -"

"I don't grudge Jinny a thing," Raymond finished. "I don't. But the truth is..." He focused on a spot above and to the left of Sarah's head. "I wouldn't have minded if it had been me."

Sarah placed a hand on his knee. He stared at it until she pulled it away. But when he spoke again, he was all business. "Look, I've got to head back to the States. Get the old bat buried and settle her estate. It'll all have to be auctioned off, of course: the house, all the furniture, the cars..."

"That's too bad."

Raymond waved off her concern. "I don't care," he said. "I don't want anything of hers. It'll have her stink on it. She won't have left us anything in her will - she always said she'd done more than her Christian duty by us. Not that there's anything to inherit anyway."

"What will happen to your sisters?"

"Jinny will be all right. They left her some money, you know." Raymond smiled. "As for Carol, I don't know. She's always wanted to take up nursing."

"I could give her references," Sarah pointed out. "It turns out I know one or two people in the medical field."

"I think she's going to stick around here for the next few weeks, help Lord Boynton get everything packed up. His expedition will have to be permanently called off due to lack of funds." A grin twitched at the corners of his mouth.

"Don't you resent him?"

"Who, Lord Boynton?" Raymond shook his head. "I don't. I feel sorry for him. All those years, chasing after something he'll never find. And not realizing he has a son who loves him."

"Poor Leonard."

Raymond smiled ruefully. "It's all a mess, isn't it? I'm sorry you got mixed up in this."

"I'm not." Sarah rose and took Raymond's glass. "Let me get you a drink," she said. Raymond looked hopeful. "Of water. Dehydration is the enemy out here."

"Interesting choice of words," he said. "We've got murderers, slavers, liars, and embezzlers. But dehydration is the enemy."

Sarah smiled at him indulgently. "Don't go anywhere."

Head tilted to one side, Raymond watched her as she walked away.

"You know, I was thinking," Sarah said.

Raymond set down his empty water glass. "What about?"

"About how you could take revenge on your mother. It occurs to me, Raymond, that the most irritating thing you could do is make a smashing success of yourself."

He laughed bitterly. "I'm ruined, Sarah."

"Then rise from the ashes, like the proverbial Phoenix," Sarah said eagerly. "She did give you a top-notch education - there's nothing stopping you from putting it to good use."

Raymond turned the glass around in his hands. "I like it," he said. "I was going to choose the ugliest headstone I could find for her grave, but your idea is even better."

"Well, don't rule out the headstone, either. Have you looked into modernist sculpture? Something stark and asymmetrical." Sarah grinned wickedly, and Raymond returned the expression. "You're wrong about something, you know."

"What's that?"

"Why you didn't kill your mother."

"Ah." Raymond shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"It's not because you lack moral courage," Sarah explained. "It's because in spite of everything, you're a good person."

Raymond set the glass down with a clink. "Am I?"

"I wouldn't be here if you weren't."

"Look, Sarah," Raymond said briskly. "I like you. I do."

"Got a funny way of showing it," she said casually.

"But I can't let you - shackle yourself - to someone like me. Not even temporarily."

"What do you mean, someone like you?"

"Aside from the obvious financial problem," Raymond said, "my mother was just killed. And I may never be free from her."

"I see."

"And I haven't entirely ruled out drinking myself to death. Like I said, it's all a mess." He slumped in the wicker chair. "You'd be well advised to steer clear of this train wreck, Sarah."

Sarah gave him a long look. "I think you've got the wrong idea about me, Raymond," she said finally. "I'm not just looking to have a good time. I think that you and I... "

"Yeah," Raymond agreed. "But..." And that was all he had to say.

Sarah looked down at her hands, then cleared her throat. "That sounds rather final."

"Why don't we give it some time?" Raymond surprised her by saying. "Maybe a year. If we still feel in a year like we do now..."

"I like that." She smiled. "I've been neglecting my practice in London - time to call this world tour to an end."

"And I've got plenty to deal with in New York. Messes to clean up."

Look to the living, Dr. Gerard had said as he was dying. It was conceivable that he'd meant Raymond. "Look, Ray..." Sarah began. He raised an eyebrow at her. "I have a friend... a, um, professional colleague in New York. I'll give you his address. When you get back stateside, I think you ought to pay him a visit."

Raymond nodded. "I'll write to you, if you want. I can't promise you'll be able to read my handwriting, though."

"Mine, either. I'm a doctor, remember?"

"How could I forget?" He held his empty glass aloft. "Thanks for the drink, Dr. King."

She leaned in very close, so that her soft curls brushed his ear and her perfume enveloped them both, and kissed him on the cheek. "Good night, Raymond."