Will You Teach Me… ?
This week will be a rather gloomier chapter than the previous one… Not for our two lovebirds (still cooing strong), they deserve a little respite. Still, Brianna might face quite the dilemma!
Thanks Rath101 and AngelinaGaye for the reviews, as well as Lewis39685 for hitting the follow/fav button!
Rath101: oh the storm will come… just not right now. This week, I'll just give you some sweet Stephen/Bree moments and more reasons to hate our dear William Tryon ahahah.
AngelinaGaye: oh yeah, I really didn't want Brianna to forget and forgive everything. No matterhow good and caring Stephen is, their relationship will always be tainted by what he did. But Brianna also needs closure. She needs to be in peace with her past and now, Stephen proved to her that it might be the right moment to do just that. But things are never that easy in my fics… as you'll soon find out below. Ahahahah
oOo
25. He Hit Me (And It Felt Like A Kiss)
September 30th, 1774.
After their last heated argument in Jeremiah's room, Brianna had not expected to hear from Margaret Tryon for at least a few months. It was therefore quite surprising when on the last morning of September, Hennessy brought a message for her with the usual morning mail.
"From Lady Margaret Tryon, to Mrs. Bonnet", the butler announced, tapping his finger on the message he had placed at the very top of the pile. Brianna raised her eyebrows over her slice of toast and outstretched her left arm across the table to grab the message, but Stephen seized it and broke the wax seal.
"Hey!", Brianna protested, ten seconds before Stephen gave her the message, which only contained a few words.
"Lady Tryon is restin' in her Cross Creek house after a bad flu, she wants to come over and have tea here this afternoon", he summed up with a bright smile, as if to make up for the fact that he had shamelessly opened her mail. Brianna opened the message and – since it contained no other information – tossed the paper on the table as nonchalantly as possible. She didn't want to look too excited or else Stephen would try to sneak in and listen to their conversation.
"Are you two gettin' along well?... When you're not sharin' military intelligence, if you catch my drift…", he asked with a hint of sarcasm, but Brianna smiled and nodded.
"Yes… it's a pity that we see each other so little, by the way. I really like spending time with Margaret. There's never a dull moment with her…"
"Her husband would certainly disagree…", Stephen scoffed as he skimmed through the daily Gazette.
Brianna rolled her eyes. Maybe because her husband is a world-class motherfucker?
The dining room door opened again and it was Phaedre's turn to come forward with a small tray and a steaming cup, the smell of which immediately made Stephen wince.
"Coffee again?" He glared at the cup, while Brianna thanked Phaedre with an overly broad smile. "By Danu, that horrid smell… You know that if the word spreads that my wife has discovered a passion for this nasty brew, I could be in trouble…?"
Brianna smiled as she added a little sugar to her drink. Since the Boston Tea Party of 1773, drinking coffee – the tea's new rival – was almost considered a revolutionary act, but imagining that anyone would show up and search River Run for coffee was a bit far-fetched. Stephen was just annoyed that she had started to shun his fertility tea.
"I had enough of red clover tea… That's all you've been buying lately…"
Stephen cleared his throat and unfolded the Gazette to disappear behind it. "Yes, there have been… supply issues."
"Oh really? That's awful... Not a single tea flavor on the market beside red clover?"
Brianna's voice was dripping with sarcasm and she caught a warning look from Hennessy. Surprisingly enough, the butler had not told Stephen about her conversation with Dr. Kent, but his current expression was screaming at her not to go too far. A long and loud sigh came from behind the Gazette and Brianna stifled a giggle into her coffee cup, before taking another look at Margaret's message. Perhaps Lady Tryon had changed her mind and was finally willing to give her evidence? Or would she once again try to convince her to reconsider?
The morning and early afternoon passed unbearably slowly for Brianna, despite a two hour reading and writing session with Jeremiah, an hour-long walk with the child and his dog, thirty minutes spent frolicking with Stephen when she went upstairs to change after Blue put his mud-soaked paws on the bottom of her dress, and an extra hour spent with Phaedre cleaning out her closet after they discovered a moth among her petticoats.
Finally, at four o'clock sharp, a small two-horse carriage pulled up the driveway and Brianna stood on the porch to greet her guest. Further away in the garden, under a large weeping willow, she had placed a small table and two chairs – to enjoy the warm autumn sun but also to avoid any prying eyes and ears inside the house. Stephen was in his office, Hennessy would be the victim of various pranks diligently prepared by Jeremiah in the afternoon, and hopefully the two women would have time to talk their hearts out. It was therefore with a confident smile that Brianna watched the small door of Margaret's carriage open. A smile that froze at the sight of the woman's strange outfit.
Despite the pleasant weather, Margaret was wearing a long-sleeved, dark winter dress, along with a thick scarf draped around her neck and a traveling cape. She was obviously suffocating, judging by her sweaty red face, and Brianna frowned. Was she still sick? No, she would never have taken the risk of coming and contaminating the whole family and their employees, especially knowing that there was a young child with them. There was something else, but Brianna pretended not to notice anything.
"Margaret, what a pleasure to see you again!", Brianna greeted her as she climbed down the carriage with difficulty. Lady Tryon – who was usually dazzling with her regal bearing and her fluid gait, regardless of the weight of her dress – seemed to move more stiffly, as if a latent pain limited her movements. Behind Brianna, the sound of Stephen's boots echoed in the entrance hall, and she prayed that he had simply come down to greet Lady Tryon and not invite himself to their tea party.
"Lady Tryon, welcome to River Run", Stephen trumpeted as he walked down the porch to offer her his arm, Brianna following closely. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?"
"I was not far from River Run, it would be a shame not to spend some time with your sweet Brianna..."
Stephen darted his green eyes on his wife and gave her the cutest of smiles. "How could I blame you…"
Brianna felt her cheeks flush as her husband's bewitching gaze almost made her forget they weren't alone. "Did you come down to have tea with us?", she asked casually, but praying for him to say no. And he did, much to her relief.
"No, I just came to pay my respects to Lady Tryon. I have some paperwork to deal with…" He turned back to the Englishwoman one last time and put a friendly but respectful hand on her arm, unaware of Margaret's slight wince of pain. "I'll leave you two alone. Make yourself at home, Milady." Then he walked past Brianna, kissing her temple as he passed, and disappeared inside the house.
Margaret had watched the scene with such a tender look on her face that Brianna had no trouble guessing her thoughts. Can't you see how much he loves you? That's what she had said during their last conversation, and Brianna was pretty sure Margaret was thinking the exact same words right now.
The young woman approached her guest and offered her arm. "Come on, I've had a small table set up for us under the willow..."
As planned, Hennessy slipped away to get the tea and cookies in the kitchen, and Brianna discreetly nodded at Jeremiah who was playing on the porch. The child grinned and went back to his toys, waiting for his time to shine. The walk to the willow was much longer than expected. Margaret was indeed walking slower than usual, but perhaps she had really just recovered from a bad flu and it wasn't a fake excuse as Brianna had initially thought. They were walking so slowly that Hennessy was already returning with his tray when they finally sat down on their chairs.
"How are you feeling? You said in your letter that you've been ill?", Brianna asked as Hennessy poured the tea into the cups and dropped lemon wedges into them. No more clover tea: the smell of good old Earl Gray tea wafted through the air, and Brianna made a mental note to later ask Stephen if the "supply issue" was finally settled.
"Oh, I feel much better, thanks for asking. I'm still a little bit tired, but it is probably normal, considering..."
The words died in Margaret's throat as she noticed Jeremiah creeping up behind Hennessy with a small wooden sword in his hand. Brianna bit the inside of her cheeks to keep herself from smiling. The tip of the sword soon hit the butler's left buttock, and he spun around with an outraged look.
"En garde, villain!", Jeremiah shouted, waving the sword at Hennessy who glared at him.
"Would you please not wave that thing at us, you're going to hurt someo-"
Once again, the sword hit his bottom, and Hennessy turned his red face toward Brianna, hoping for her to call her offspring to order. But the young mother simply smiled.
"We read a story about knights, this morning… Jeremiah loves History…"
"I said, en garde!", Jemmy roared, poking Hennessy several times in the buttocks and thighs. The butler took a threatening step toward him, and Jemmy scampered away, only to stop a little bit further and stick his tongue out.
With all the patience required by his function, Hennessy suppressed a long sigh and grabbed the jam to spread it expertly on the scones.
"Hmm, that looks delicious", Bree complimented him, picking up her napkin… which accidentally fell into the grass. "Oh, dear, I'm so clumsy…"
"Let me pick it up for you, Madam", Hennessy said, putting the jam down to bend over and pick up the napkin. But before he could straighten up, a loud "yaaaaa" echoed through the garden and Jeremiah jumped onto Hennessy's back, holding on to his clothes.
"Come on, gee up!", the child bellowed as if trying to ride a reluctant donkey.
"What in the Devil?!" Hennessy did his best not to bolt up, as he did not want to knock Jemmy off his back, but the boy held on.
"Trot! Trot!"
"Is Jeremiah always so… energetic?", Margaret asked with wide eyes, as the butler walked away to get rid of the child without knocking the whole table over. With a broad smile, Brianna grabbed her cup between her fingers and stared at her guest.
"No, he's not. It's just for today…"
Margaret frowned for a moment, before realizing what was happening. Brianna was just making sure her butler was busy somewhere else so they could talk freely.
The young woman took a sip of hot tea. "How about you tell me now why you are here? I'm sure it's not a simple social call…"
Margaret looked down at her scone and pursed her lips. "I got what you asked for…", she whispered and Brianna felt her heart race.
"You do?"
"This is one of last year's ledgers. William should not notice it's missing for a while…" Margaret reached inside her cape and put a small notebook, bound in red leather with gold borders, on the table. After a quick glance at Hennessy, who was still busy playing horse, Brianna flicked through the pages and tucked it away under her own dress.
"Are you sure this is the evidence we are looking for?"
Lady Tryon nodded. "Josiah gave me a description…"
Bree frowned. "If you trust him and if he is willing to help, why didn't you give him the ledger?"
"He's away… for several weeks." Lady Tryon's voice cracked slightly. "He left me alone with William and…" She sniffled. "Excuse me", she finished, pulling out a handkerchief to dab the corner of her eye.
Spit it out, come on…, Brianna thought impatiently, but Jeremiah was executing his mission perfectly and Hennessy would not be coming back to bother them anytime soon. "What happened, Margaret?"
The governor's wife looked up in distress, opened her mouth, seemed ready to say something, then changed her mind and closed it again. Unable to stand it any longer, Brianna's hand flew over the table and grabbed her guest's, tugging a bit too much on the wrist and Margaret jumped, suppressing a small cry.
"Margaret, talk to m-..." The redhead fell silent. Under the midnight blue sleeve, a yellowish and purplish spot had caught her eye. Brianna let go of Margaret's hand, which immediately disappeared under the table. "Did… did he hurt you?"
The other woman unconsciously readjusted her scarf around her neck, but did not answer. Her outfit, much too warm and covering for the season, finally made sense. She's covered in bruises…, Brianna realized, anger soon making her blood boil in her veins.
"It's my fault, I… I caused an argument." Brianna's neutral face told Margaret that she didn't believe for a second that anything was her fault, but Lady Tryon went on. "I was at Mrs. Norrington… but I wasn't feeling very well so I went back home early." Her chin quivered and she looked away at the fields surrounding the property. "He was in our bed… with her."
"Miss Scott?", Brianna asked, and Margaret nodded, sniffling. It seemed that William Tryon had not yet tired of his Christmas whore. "I knew that my husband was unfaithful… But seeing it with my own eyes… In our bed. Where I gave birth to my daughter…"
"I can't imagine how painful that was..."
"I flew into a fury. I can't fault him for cheating on me, considering I am not exactly faithful either… but I would never do that with Josiah under our roof. And certainly not in such a demeaning position as this…"
Whore, Brianna finished internally. Although she had the greatest respect for sex workers, this particular one was only trying to take Margaret's place. A common home breaker... with ambition, no less.
"He lashed out at me… The two of them had been drinking. His breath reeked of alcohol…", Lady Tryon went on, still shaking at the mere memory. "He had never hit me for so long... I have been slapped around a few times, like all women… and I don't mind... But this…"
Brianna did not even know what to say anymore. What seemed normal to a woman in 1774 was not to her, a twentieth-century girl raised by a man who had never done more than raise his voice over her own mother. Or break a few dishes. And other than the night he had raped her, Stephen had never laid a hand on her either. Not even to scare her. Of course, they had their share of psychological violence, at the beginning of their marriage, but the limit of physical violence had never been crossed. At least not like this.
"I thought I would never see my daughter again…", Margaret whispered. "But you know what's worse?"
Because there's worse?, Brianna thought bitterly. The level was already quite high.
"When I was on the floor and William was kicking me… Miss Scott was quietly sitting on the bed. She was sipping her drink, paying no attention to me whatsoever. I was screaming, I was begging... and she was just there… drinking her wine, as if... I didn't even exist."
Bree felt a shiver run down her spine and she unconsciously rubbed her arms, as if to warm herself. She could feel a strange urge to snuggle up against a protective chest and she imagined herself doing just that for a moment, in order to mentally protect herself from the violence Margaret depicted. She could almost feel the stifling heat of a man's skin against hers, and soft words being whispered in her ear. Everythin' is all right, mo fhíorghra…
"The next day he took her to a party at the Norrington's… I decided to stay in Cross Creek for a while, and I went in his office before I left. Josiah being away, I did not know what to do with the ledger…"
"And here you are...", Brianna finished darkly.
"And here I am."
There was a silence, during which Bree looked for some comforting words, but Margaret spared her the trouble.
"Don't feel sorry for me, I don't deserve your sympathy. I'm just a selfish woman..."
"Don't be silly, Margaret…"
"I did not want to help you because I feared my name would be dragged through the mud. Because I was afraid of losing everything: my husband, my fortune, my reputation and that of my daughter…" She shook her head, wiping away a few tears. "But I've had enough. I know that, if the time comes, Josiah will marry me to save me from disgrace and that my daughter should be able to find an acceptable husband even if her father ends up with a rope around his neck. I'm sorry it took me so long. You lost precious time because of me... but I would completely understand if, at this point, you don't want to use the ledger anymore and give your marriage a chance. For my opinion has not changed about your husband. The way he looks at you… The way he hugs you or Jeremiah… I know you and Mr. Bonnet were hardly a love match, but very few marriages are. However, affection is sometimes born between two people who were a terrible fit at first. And that affection then lasts for a lifetime…"
Brianna took a deep breath and cleared her throat, while her nose dived into her cup of tea – and Margaret got the message.
"My apologies, Brianna. William always say that I talk too much, and he is probably right."
"No", Brianna snapped, causing Margaret to jump slightly in her chair. "I mean… It's all right to give your opinion. Please never stop doing that. It's just that I…"
But the young woman did not finish her sentence. Not a word came to her mind, but a sad smile outstretched her guest's lips.
"You are getting fond of him, aren't you…?"
Bree frowned and in a futile attempt to hide her nervousness, she started to stir her tea, but Margaret's hand gently came to rest on hers and forced her to put the spoon down. And when Brianna looked up again, her eyes were reddening. Lady Tryon had just entrusted her with probably one of the greatest traumas of her life; she had no reason not to do the same.
"It terrifies me…", Brianna whispered, her voice wavering. "I have hated and feared him for so long, and now… Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I can see myself with my bleeding nose, my messy hair and bloodstained petticoat after he raped me… and… I feel like the woman I am today – the one who enjoys his touch and allows herself to be seduced – is spitting in her face."
Margaret bit her lip and there was another silence, that she used to organize her thoughts into words. "Haven't you changed since the first time you met Mr. Bonnet?"
Brianna frowned. "Of course, I have. I was too naive and reckless for my own good… That certainly changed after our encounter…"
"And from what Jocasta told me when she informed me of your situation… Mr. Bonnet himself has changed a lot after he met you. He was just a common pirate back then."
"What's your point, Margaret?"
Lady Tryon sighed and wrapped her fingers around her cup. "Well... what would make most sense to you? To base all of your reasoning on an event that happened many years ago when the two of you were completely different people… or on your current situation and personalities, and all the things that unite you today?"
Brianna stared at her in bewilderment, before bursting into a nervous laugh. "You do realize that you are not helping me at all, Margaret?"
The other smiled softly, but said nothing and they both remained silent for a moment, enjoying the feeling of being able to confide in each other.
"Wait… Why would you give me the ledger and then convince me to give Stephen a chance?", Brianna suddenly asked and Margaret's smile grew wider, nodding as if she had been expecting that kind of question.
"My life is a disaster and I would pay good money to run away from it… but it is mostly behind me now and at my age, I don't have half of the strength you have to change anything anyway." Lady Tryon leaned forward, and for a moment Brianna felt like she was facing Claire, offering her best advice with her wide doe eyes and discreet smile on her face. "But you are young, Brianna. And brave. You deserve to have a choice. You were denied that choice when you were raped. And later married to save your honor. And then married again to protect your child. Every single time, men have made decisions for you. It is time you can decide again what is right for you. And whether you use this notebook or throw it into the fire, I know you will do what is best for you and for Jeremiah."
~o~
When Margaret left, Brianna had to refrain from hugging her – which would have been completely inappropriate – but their open-hearted discussion and the abuse that this poor woman had suffered had triggered in Brianna a pathological need for physical contact. That is why, when she crossed paths with Stephen as she went to their room and despite the presence of the ledger discreetly tucked under her corset, she did not try to escape his arms when he drew her gently to him.
"Are you all right, darlin'?"
Brianna was not surprised that he asked—she must have looked pretty glum—and rested her head on his shoulder before snuggling against his chest. She waited for a few seconds, weighing the pros and cons of what she was about to say, and finally spoke.
"He beats her, did you know that?"
She heard Stephen exhale through his nose and knew what answer he was going to give before he even opened his mouth. "Aye, he sometimes brags about it…" Brianna tightened her fingers a little more on his shirt and he chuckled. "So that's what you've been doin' for the last couple of hours? Tryin' to figure out which one of you has the worst husband?"
Brianna smiled and looked up at him. "Well, as surprising as it may sound... I didn't win this contest."
Stephen seemed to think for a moment and his eyes drifted to their bedroom door, while his wife quickly thought about all the ways she could keep the notebook from falling when he would take her clothes off. But luckily, the universe had other plans for her.
"Hmm, I promised Jeremiah I would take him and his pony for a ride before dinner", he muttered, grabbing her ass through the dress. "You'll have to wait until after dinner to ride yours..."
"Ride my-?", Brianna repeated under his lustful but laughing eyes. "I see… Mr. Bonnet is a poet."
Stephen chuckled and letting go of her buttocks, he turned to meet Jeremiah downstairs. "Well, Mrs. Bonnet is a wonderful muse..."
Brianna rolled her eyes and waited for him to disappear into the living room to breathe a sigh of relief. She rushed into her room – where Phaedre was cleaning Stephen's closet in case other moths would have settled there – and squirmed to dislodge the ledger out of its hiding place. Phaedre walked towards her, frowning at what her mistress held in her hands.
"What is this, Madam?", she asked when Brianna handed it to her.
"Evidence that Stephen and Lord Tryon embezzle and misuse tax money for their own benefit… I need you to hide it from me. No one ever searches your room, right?"
Phaedre shook her head. "Not to my knowledge. But what are you going to do with it, Madam?"
"Ideally, I should pass it on to my family. They could send it to whomever it might concern, but…"
"Why don't you go back to the apothecary?", Phaedre suggested; Brianna had told her about it shortly after receiving her parents' response hidden in Hamlet. "He turned out to be a trustworthy man."
"Yes… but slipping a tiny piece of paper between two fingers was easy. Giving an entire notebook in front of Stephen will be much more dangerous…"
"Not if I'm the one going… In October, there's this fabric fair in Wilmington. Mrs. Cameron sent me there every year to find material for new dresses… You can find the finest and most delicate fabrics there. I could ask Mr. Bonnet if I can go, pay a little visit to the apothecary for Jeremiah's lotions and soaps, and then come back home."
Brianna nodded thoughtfully. "It could work, yes…"
"However… if I may…", the young maid began and Brianna knew what she was going to ask before she even spoke. "Are you sure you want to do this, Madam?"
Why is everyone asking me this?, Bree moaned internally. But she knew full well why – because even if she tried to ignore them, she had serious doubts herself. With a dejected sigh, she plumped down on the bed. "I've been waiting for this opportunity for months..."
"May I speak to you in all honesty?"
"Of course, Phaedre…"
The maid pursed her lips and sat down next to Brianna, facing her. "If you had received this notebook last September, we wouldn't have had a moment's hesitation, obviously... But today...?"
"Nothing has changed."
"Everything has changed…", Phaedre retorted, shaking her head. "And I know you can feel it. Mr. Bonnet has changed. You have changed. Jeremiah… finally has a father worthy of the name…" Brianna was about to protest but Phaedre raised a hand in appeasement. "There's no need to try and convince me otherwise. You know it, I know it, Mr. Bonnet knows it, everyone knows it."
"Stephen hurt me…"
"So did Mr. MacKenzie… Have you forgotten what happened when your parents came home without him, after Jeremiah was born?"
Brianna scowled. "I had a few crying spells, nothing to be alarmed about…"
"Oh, really?", Phaedre exclaimed before choosing a more respectful tone of voice. "You were bedridden for three days in a daze… We had to find a wet-nurse for Jeremiah because you couldn't even breastfeed him properly."
Brianna's eyes filled with tears. She had very few memories of this period and had not really tried to find out more when she came to her senses. Roger had returned a few days after that and that was all that mattered to her.
"But I'm not here to rank your husbands depending on the level of suffering that each of them inflicted on you...", Phaedre went on quietly. "What I meant is that for the past few months… you have been radiant."
"Oh please…" Brianna rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Of course I'm radiant: Stephen literally showers me with jewels and ridiculously expensive dresses."
Phaedre squinted, aware that her mistress was pretending not to understand what she actually meant. Brianna herself could not explain why it had been so easy for her to tell Margaret about her possible nascent feelings for Stephen, and yet denying it in front of Phaedre. Perhaps because they were closer, knew each other for a long time, and Brianna feared her judgment. The young girl stood up, the ledger in one hand, and put the other on Bree's arm.
"I will gladly help you, Madam, but I need to be certain that you will not regret it. For you and for Jeremiah… For there will be no going back once the proofs are out of our hands. The fabric fair is on the last week of October, so you have a little less than a month to think about it. There is still time…"
As Brianna did not answer, Phaedre turned away in silence and was about to leave the room when the redhead spoke in a weak, almost shameful voice.
"Is it wrong to think that everything would be so much easier if I could forgive him for what he did to me?"
With her hand on the doorknob, Phaedre froze and gave her a compassionate look. "No, Madam. Of course not. There are no rules; people do what they can and what they want. You have suffered more than some women, and less than others. If you want to forgive him, that is fine. If you don't, that is fine too. It is up to you to do what you feel capable of."
"Would you? If you were me?"
Judging by Brianna's confused expression, it was an actual question, and Phaedre thought hard for a few seconds. "When Mr. Bonnet became your husband, I was terrified. For you. For Jeremiah. I was desperately waiting for someone to break down the door and snatch you from his clutches… I am not one of his henchmen: just because he pays me doesn't mean I condone all his actions…"
"He's paying you?", Brianna wondered, blinking. She had never really thought about it. It was true that Stephen had claimed from day one that he only trusted paid employees, but she had not thought that Phaedre would be one of them as well.
"Yes, he does... I didn't expect it either when he allowed me to stay, but the next day he paid me two pounds, then a pound each week. Which is more than I could say about the Camerons…"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Phaedre looked down embarrassedly. "I was worried… that you would not trust me anymore. That this would change our relationship…"
"Of course not…", Brianna reassured her with a smile, but with the paranoia and panic that had taken hold of her at the very beginning of their marriage, perhaps it was indeed a good thing that Phaedre had left this detail untold. "On the contrary, I am quite pleasantly surprised… and happy for you."
"This does not mean I'm free, though...", Phaedre tempered. "I have no document proving that I am an employee and not a slave… Mr. Bonnet never broached the subject with me."
Brianna rolled her eyes. "He must think that money magically fills out all the paperwork..."
"He probably does, indeed…", Phaedre chuckled before putting on a straight face again. "Anyway, just like you, I got to know him. I have seen his progress. He is not perfect, and no man on this Earth is… but…"
"He's trying…", Brianna finished with a hint of sadness.
Phaedre nodded. "He tries very hard to make you happy. And I understand that you want to take this into account when making your decision."
Brianna took a deep breath as Phaedre pocketed the ledger in her apron. "Three weeks, huh...?"
The servant smiled. "I'm not forcing you. I'm sure I can find an excuse to go to Wilmington on another day."
"No, that's fine… I have to make up my mind now before it is too late…", Brianna sighed before smiling kindly. "Thank you."
Phaedre opened the door and after a brief curtsey, slipped out of the room, leaving Brianna alone with her thoughts.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Okay, I have one question for y'all: if you were Bree at this exact moment… What would YOU do? Remove the bandaid now and bring Stephen to justice? Or would you wait for him to prove his worth (or not)? I'm quite curious to know what you would decide to do in her shoes…
Also, are you surprised about Tryon? Or did you already assume what a filthy bastard he was? (I kinda gave some clues from the beginning… lol).
I hope you enjoyed this chapter and are eager to read what will happen in the next month until the fabric fair… Believe me, the next chapter will be an emotional rollercoaster ahah.
I will update on April 2nd, and until then, I wish you a happy Saint-Patrick's day next week (don't forget to kiss an Irish pirate for luck!).
Xérès