The Price of Pride
5
The Troy family had had a quiet afternoon. With the elders gone, the youngest daughters had focused fully on their own activities in peace. They had elected to sit in the sibling room together, Donna lost in her drawing and Lyla lost in her new correspondence. Donna had chosen a seat by the window where the light was best at this time of the day, and thus had the privilege to view the visitor's yard.
When the rider stormed through the gates, she was the first to notice. At first she did not give a care, too focused on finishing her sketch. And yet, something in the newcomer's manner caught her eye. She sensed urgency and put down her pencil. Her father had demanded not to be bothered; her mother had gone in the early afternoon to visit aunt Menalippe at the other end of the country and would not return for days, Jason and Diana had taken their horses for a ride and had yet returned. Should a member of the family be requested, the staff would come for her. She stood from her seat, arranged her dress and hair properly. Her actions distracted Lyla in turn.
"Is something the matter?" the youngest Troy sibling inquired with curiosity. She peeked through the window to glance in the courtyard. "A visitor?"
"I am not certain," Donna replied. "But as our parents and beloved elders are absent, I might as well see for myself."
The blonde girl rose from her seat.
"I will come too," she said and added before Donna could protest: "I shall stand in the back and not bother you, I promise."
As she spoke those words, a discreet knock was heard against the door. After Donna granted entrance, the housekeeper appeared, her expression uneasy.
"Miss Donna," she said. "A footman from Gotham has a letter from Lord Troy. He means to give him in person."
The master had explicitly ordered not to be disturbed, and no-one would dare contradict him unless it was an emergency, or a direct order from a member of his family. Donna kept a mask of serene confidence and stepped forward.
"I shall see to him."
The housekeeper nodded and stepped aside to let the ladies pass. While she advanced to meet their impromptu visitor, Donna tried to calm her racing heart. Gotham was an estate bordering their lands and belonged to none other than Mr. Wayne; the same Mr. Wayne who seemed to cultivate an interest in her elder sister. Donna had always thought the situation quite diverting; his flirting never failed to raise Diana's ire and an irked Diana was most fun to tease. The fun would not last should she be caught unwillingly in a compromising position. She prayed the note did not contain the news of her sister's forced engagement to that man.
The messenger stood in the parlor, his clothes of good quality and his attitude aloof, as a highly paid servant ought to be. He bowed upon Donna's arrival.
"My father is held back in his office," she said after the customary greetings were exchanged. "I have to ask is the matter is urgent, for he will not leave on a whim."
"Mr. Wayne demanded I bring the letter to Lord Troy," he replied coolly, but politely. "I cannot leave without seeing my duty through."
"Did something happen to our sister?"
Donna nearly jumped, having already forgotten Lyla's presence in her back. The blonde girl shyly glimpsed from behind her sister, as if wary of strangers. The messenger's features softened, most likely believing Lyla to be younger than she appeared. While Donna knew her younger sister was not as frail as she seemed, she was glad it played in their favor today.
"You sister is fine, Miss," he replied. "But your brother had an accident and is currently being tended by Mr. Wayne's physician."
Donna dropped her mouth open, stunned. She heard Lyla gasp quietly. Quickly recovering, she nodded towards a maid who departed immediately.
"Will he recover?" Donna inquired shakily.
"Mr. Wayne's surgeon is one of the best of the country," the man went on confidentially. "He is in good hands."
"Who is in good hands?" Both sisters jumped this time; Hadrian Troy had arrived in the parlor, looking quite put-off. "I heard the commotion outside and came across panicked servants on the way. You have something for me from your master, they say?"
The messenger bowed and handed him the letter.
"I am to wait for an answer," he said simply.
Hadrian did not retire to his office to open the letter and read the contents. Donna watched, helplessly, as the more he read, the more his skin paled. She watched as he folded the paper in silence, his hands shaking with the slightest tremor, an unreadable expression on his face.
"Fools," he whispered. "Fools, both of them." He turned towards Donna. "Fetch a maid and gather clothes for your siblings. They are likely to stay at Gotham for a fortnight. Warn Io she will be departing too; I do not want Diana left without a chaperon for so long. Charon, bring this man to the kitchen for a meal while he waits. I have a letter to write."
Upon these words, he stormed back into the corridors, most likely to his office. The two sisters exchanged a glance, and both executed what had been demanded of them. Within moments, clothes were enclosed in a trunk and carried downstairs. Hadrian returned with his letter, his skin even whiter than before. Donna stood on the threshold, her hands clenched tightly. Her father and Lyla stood by her as they watched the messenger depart to Gotham with the maid in the carriage. Her younger sister reached for her hand. Donna unclenched her fingers and squeezed hers with more reassurance than she felt. Only when the carriage had disappeared from view that she noted something else was wrong.
Hadrian Troy's breathing was…odd. His skin still white, his hands trembling, and he sounded like-
The huge body tumbled down, nearly toppling over Lyla. Donna shrieked in surprise before kneeling by her father's side.
"Help!" she shouted, although two footmen were already joining her. "Call the physician, quick! And bring him to his rooms!"
The staff obeyed promptly. Hadrian Troy was supported by three footmen as he was carried away, and Donna knew she would remember forever the helplessness she felt and the gnawing fear events were turning for the worse.
POP
"Mr. Wayne?"
Bruce did not break his concentration. His eyes remained determinedly fixated on the spot they had found Jason Troy the previous afternoon. He had wanted to visit the place early so he would not be bothered by coaches or riders too soon.
"Mr. Wayne."
Bruce reluctantly looked away from the patch of crushed weeds to meet his steward's eye. Mr. Fox stood on the other side of the path, watching his employer with a dubitative stare.
"What are you expecting to find, sir?"
At first, he did not reply. Instead, he glanced back at the spot where Jason Troy had fallen. Then, he glanced back at Fox.
"Would you be so kind to stand over there?" he asked, and pointed at a specific place across the path.
Still dubious, the steward nonetheless complied. Bruce stepped back onto the road.
"Does young Mr. Troy often ride by these parts?" he asked.
"Yes, yes I believe he does," Mr. Fox replied patiently.
"How do you know?"
The steward narrowed his eyes questioningly.
"He is often seen riding at this hour, every few days. He does not make it a secret that he often rides to free himself from everyday worries. He favors much this path."
"So this is general or easily acquired knowledge."
Mr. Fox agreed. Bruce hummed and glanced around once again.
"Humor me, Mr Fox, but would you ride down to the curve," he pointed further down the road. "And gallop back here?"
The steward climbed back upon his horse and took off. In the meantime, Bruce tugged the reins of his own horse and guided him under the trees. He tied him to a low branch and crouched behind a large trunk. The crocked angle was perfect to observe the road without standing uncomfortably. Moments later, Mr. Fox galloped back. Bruce saw him arrive from afar and stood very still. He watched in silence as his employee slowed his mount and looked around, slightly at loss.
"Mr. Wayne?"
Bruce remained still a little more. His horse did not move either, ears twitching, eyeing him with curiosity. Eventually, he took pity on the confused man and left his hideout.
"I am here, Mr. Fox."
The man dismounted and headed towards the sound of his employer's voice. Bruce stood and walked out of his hiding place.
"Forgive me sir, for a moment, I thought-"
"You thought I had left, you did not see me," Bruce concluded.
The steward started smiling. And then he stopped. His eyes narrowed in suspicion, questioning his employer silently. Bruce gave him the answer he was expecting.
"Jason Troy has a reputation of being an excellent horseman," he said slowly. "Him and Miss Troy, actually. Both are reasonable people. Young Mr. Troy might be impulsive; he would not race carelessly on unknown paths. And even if he did, Miss Troy would never follow him in a foolish action."
"You believe Mr. Troy's accident may have not been an accident after all?"
Bruce hummed, thinking.
"Lord Troy has just introduced his son as his heir to his business partners," he started slowly. "Perhaps I am reading too much into this situation, but the coincidence is…troubling."
"An instinct, Mr. Wayne?"
"Something like that." He returned towards his horse and mounted it again. "We should return to Gotham manor, I have yet caught up with my letters –and we still need to discuss your reports. And I want a word with Tompkins."
"Of course, sir," Mr. Fox said pleasantly. "I am certain Miss Troy will be gratified to see you care about her brother's welfare."
Bruce replied nothing, although he sensed his cheeks grow warm.
"If an act of grievous mischief has occurred on my lands, it is my duty to remedy to it," he pointed out grumpily. "Miss Troy's opinion has nothing to do with it."
His steward wisely kept his mouth shut.
They rode away, firmly intending to start their first round of visits. While Bruce did not often return to Gotham, he certainly did not want to be painted as a neglectful landlord. The tenants knew him, although they reported more frequently to Mr. Fox, but showed some gratefulness at not being forgotten. They were, after all, well aware that in case of crisis, his investments in town would be used to help his role in the countryside. As his steward was the efficient kind, Bruce did not have to linger much. He did agree to share a glass of the latest wine, offered his congratulations for the recent birth of triplets –which all three had survived their first weeks –and his condolences for a recent loss. He oversaw the latest repairs made for the village, agreed to finance the construction of a new bridge, and made his mandatory stop at the orphanage.
The building had been built under Thomas Wayne's ownership, and had at first served as a school. The school still existed, but Bruce had expanded it to welcome the orphans and children people could no longer care for. Boys and girls did not live a grand life, but they were fed three times a day, given proper clothing and taught their way into adulthood. He both enjoyed and hated stopping there. The children would greet him with various degrees of cheerfulness –they all knew to whom they owed their situation –but the despair on some faces, especially the most recent arrivals, always broke his heart. Alfred had once teased that he would have adopted them all, should this action not threaten to rip his legacy into pieces. Richard had been the one exception, and Bruce knew the young man felt the weight of everyone's expectation ever since he had become a permanent fixture in his household.
Once again, he met with the crowd of children, most of them he recognized, a few of them he did not. The girls were pressed to show him their new accomplishments, the boys wanted to impress him with the recent lessons learned. They asked him countless questions, eager for his attentions. One of the little ones even boldly asked if he would soon be married. The question was followed by whispers of reproach and hushes, but Bruce only smiled and said something smart to divert the attention.
He certainly did not think of a certain raven-haired woman on the spot. He even less thought of how she had reacted to his closeness, the very previous day. Taunting, almost daring, and at the same time responding far too easily.
And he also did not thought of how torturous her presence would be once he returned to Wayne Manor. Seeing her in his house, his home, trying not to picture her as a permanent fixture, trying not to long for her as a permanent fixture…Bruce's thoughts derived to his other guest, the young Jason. The young heir had made his debuts barely a month ago. The Troys had many business partners as well as enemies, but none he knew that would go as far as to attempt to murder him.
Perhaps it was conjecture at this point, but he wanted no place left for doubt. He needed information before taking a decision. Information cost time and money, but the person he had in mind had been growing restless lately, and would be a perfect cover. He smirked slightly, anticipating already old Perry's glare the next time the two men would meet. He was about to send his darling niece on another trail.
POP
Diana had barely slept a wink. The loyal Io had stood by her side, keeping vigil when she felt herself faltering. Jason had always been an agitated sleeper, twitching and turning in his sleep. She was not used watching him so still.
"Mr. Thompkins is optimistic about his recovery," Io suddenly blurted. Diana nearly jumped at the sound of her voice. "The blood was less alarming than it appeared to be. He was very lucky."
The young woman sighed heavily and nodded in acknowledgment. She knew, of course, that Jason had avoided the worse by a margin. They had ridden down that road for years without encountering any trouble. How could they have turned so carless?
"I was surprised your accident happened at all, Miss," she went on, as if reading her thoughts. "The young master and you know these roads well."
"Not well enough, it seems," Diana muttered. She suddenly felt too confined in this room. Exhaustion and guilt gave her shivers and made her feel uncomfortable. She stood from her seat. "I need to walk; my legs are a little stiff." Io started to stand. "Please stay, I will not be long, and someone needs to watch over him."
"I am not to leave your side, Miss Troy," she countered.
"I will not be long," she repeated, more severely this time. While she appreciated Io's show of loyalty, she truly needed to be alone. Standing by Jason for over a little day without being able to see to his comfort was growing on her nerves. The physician had repeated incessantly that she needed to be patient and wait, but she couldn't stand sitting all day long. Reading had not improved her mood, and Io, while far from idiotic, had not much conversation. She ought to write to the family to keep them informed –she might apply for paper and a pen when she stumbled upon a servant.
Without waiting for a response, she promptly left the room. The corridors were empty when she stepped in them but she did not doubt people were at work. Every surface was clean, almost to a fault. She had noticed that yesterday as Mr. Wayne guided her to Jason's rooms. He had also offered her a tour of the house, which she had declined out of worry for her brother. Within the next few days, she would have to ask him to renew his offer, for she had underestimated the size of the manor, and did not want to spend her time asking her way around. So far, he had not required her to share his table for meals and assured her trays would be sent to her room.
Diana had never dealt well with confinement. Even as a sick child, she attempted to run through the corridors. Jason usually denounced her within minutes –if the nanny didn't catch her before, and Persephone's scolding kept her in place for half a day until she tried another escape. Her legs were already cramped and she walked energetically down the corridor and reached the nearest door. She emerged in a small yard, on the side of the manor. From her position, she could see the main entrance on the left and the path leading to the gardens on her right.
She did not hesitate and engaged towards the greenery. The gardens were well kept and the blooming flowers smelt really good. The sound of horses caught her attention and encouraged her to wander further down the lane. She was not surprised to spy the outing of the stables and hear the huff of horses.
"Miss Troy, good morning."
She jumped, startled, and somewhat was not surprised to meet with Mr. Wayne dressed in a smart riding equipment, looking every bit the wealthy man he was, walking in her direction. His hair was slightly ruffled though, something she found particularly endearing. She wondered where he had come from and discreetly glanced around.
"There is a shortcut right there," he pointed at the small between two walls behind him. "Someone mentioned you were wandering in the back, so as a dutiful host, I had to come and greet you."
His smile was charming as always and in spite of the smell, he was quite alluring.
"Have you returned from a ride, sir?" she inquired.
"My steward indulges me when I ask to visit the tenants. My presence is not necessary, but I want to let them know that I don't forget about them, not even when I am locked up in London."
Diana smiled, although she would not admit it out loud, she was genuinely impressed by his thoughtfulness. She knew the role of a landowner was very different from the one of a businessman in trade, and yet, he seemed to take both very seriously. No matter his promiscuity, no-one could accuse him of neglectfulness.
"How is your brother this morning?"
She lost her smile.
"Still unmoving and not responding but Mr. Thompkins is optimistic," she replied, echoing Io's words. "He encouraged me to read aloud to keep his mind stimulated."
Bruce nodded.
"Mr. Thompkins is an experienced physicist and Mrs. Thompkins was the late apothecary's eldest daughter. Your brother is in excellent hands."
"I know. I can't thank you enough for the care he is receiving."
"Think nothing of it," he replied and offered his arm to her. "Should I escort you around the house? You had little time to explore it yet."
Diana hesitated. Her first instinct had been to refuse, as Jason was still lying still and she ought to return soon by his side. On the other hand, she had not walked that much and her legs inched for exercise.
"May we keep the exploring outside and short?" she asked as she took his arm. "I am certain you have much work to attend, and I was not intending to stray away for long."
"What the lady desires, she may have," he replied gallantly.
While they toured the gardens, he explained their history, pointed out some improvements his father had made as well as his own personal touch. She listened to him, captivated by his knowledge and the genuine pleasure he had in showing her his home. It was obvious that duty was not his sole motivator for the country house. He loved this second home, with good reason.
"Themyscira is so recent compared to Gotham," she said eventually. "My father renovated it entirely when he settled in England and gave it its name. I hope it will build its history as well as this place. It used to be an old manor that had burned to the ground, but he took particular care to improve it and imported the Greek style." She frowned slightly. "I don't mind, but I wonder why he made such a choice. He self-exiled from Greece and refuses to speak of his native country. He claims the political climate is growing too tense for him, and that his family ought not to have mingled with the higher spheres so much. He is firmly implanted in England, why should he…" Diana flushed as she realized she had been rambling. "I apologize; you must not find my conversation exceedingly passionate."
"Miss Troy," he retorted. "I have just spent the last quarter hour gushing about my own family history. Your conversation will never bore me." She eyed him quizzically, wondering if he was merely being polite or being sincere. "I do have books on the prominent families in Europe; perhaps your parents' family name is amongst them."
She blinked, stunned at this turn. While she had felt a little embarrassed to speak so freely, she felt grateful he did not seem to hold her lack of propriety around him. Come to think of it, he always seemed…amused when she discarded etiquette in his company.
"Truly?" he nodded solemnly. "Then I shall accept your offer."
They kept walking a few moments more, before she reluctantly reminded him of her duties. Mr. Wayne walked her back to her brother's room with, surprisingly, the same contrite expression on his face. Once she was safely behind closed doors, Io gave her a meaningful glare. Diana rolled her eyes, sat next to Jason's side and resumed reading out loud the book she had started.