"Here's your tea, Sir."

"Leave it on the table," Riff said, not looking up from his work.

The young maid put the tray on Riff's desk. "Is that all, Sir?" she asked.

"Go get Mrs. Nelson."

"B-but," the girl stammered. "I think she's already going to bed."

"I don't care."

The girl scurried off, and a few moments later, a much older woman with grey hair and a frown appeared in the doorway.

"Is there something you wanted, Mr. Riff?" she asked, barely disguising her annoyance.

"Did you report your spendings?" he asked. "All of them?"

"I most certainly did," she snapped. "What are you implying?"

"There's a huge chunk missing out of the finances," Riff said, rubbing his eyes. "Nearly three hundred pounds."

"Three hundred pounds?" Mrs. Nelson said, incredulously. "And what would a cook do with three hundred pounds?"

"You're the only other person who is allowed to take out," Riff said. "Unless it was the gardener? I suppose that wouldn't be out of the question…"

"Well, you better ask him, then, before blaming the cook for spending that ridiculous amount," she said. "Although what a gardener would do with that much, I wouldn't know, either. Maybe you calculated it wrong."

Riff stared down at the book before sighing. "Maybe. There's nothing more I can do before morning anyway. I'll just…review it when I get up." He stood, closing his book with a snap. "I'm sorry for disturbing you so late."

Mrs. Nelson left without another word.

Riff moved up the stairs, and through the door separating the servants' hall and the rest of the house. Cain had been working late, and Riff figured that it was about time to check on him. He found the count in the study, using a book as a pillow. Beside him was an open bottle of poison. It didn't seem like the safest situation, as Riff didn't know what would happen if the bottle were to spill; he knew of the poisons that would kill simply with skin contact.

He made his way quietly to Cain, and gently shook him on the shoulder. "Master Cain," he said, quietly.

Cain woke suddenly, and Riff had to grab his arm to keep the poison from being knocked off the desk.

"Huh? Riff?"

"Master Cain, it's late. And I would suggest sleep in your bed, rather than the desk. It's probably much more comfortable."

Cain gave a tired smile. "Alright," he said. "I give up. Maybe I'll keep working tomorrow. Who knows, maybe I'll figure it out then."

"I know how you feel, Sir," Riff said, wryly.

There was silence as Riff helped Cain get ready for bed, although it was not an uncomfortable one. Cain seemed to still be trying to figure out whatever problem he had been working on in the study, while Riff was trying to work out his own.

"Hey, Riff," Cain said, as he lay down. "What did you mean when you said 'I know what you mean'?"

"I could try to go through an explanation, Sir, but I'm not sure you would understand."

Cain laughed. "I know how you feel, Riff."


Notes: I actually didn't mean for it to end like this. I actually kinda like it. I might continue. I'm sort of wondering where that three hundred pounds went…that was a lot of money back then o.O.

I was looked at the hierarchy of servants recently, and I feel really sorry for the hall boys and scullery maids—they got all the nasty jobs like waiting on other servants and emptying the upper servants' chamber pots and shining the shoes, and were treated like crap on top of that.

Um, yeah. This is my first Count Cain fic. No slashing…please.