Page 12 of Zenith
“I don’t even understand what it means to me,” I replied, annoyed she assumed I would confide all my secrets in a girl who never lifted a finger to assist me as a child. Trust took time, and we hadn’t had very much of it together at all. “I haven’t even had a moment to research who and where they came from. I would dearly love to know my parents, but I do not know where to start! My life is in chaos right now, and I thank you for attempting to contact me about Mr. Briggs.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Jane! It’s this gloomy house,” Georgiana said, beginning to grovel. “The man did seem desperate to contact you, though he did not say what it was in regards to. Perhaps he found some information about your family?”
“Perhaps,” I replied, thankful our argument had seemed to be defused for now. “I had asked him to assist me in the matter.” Yet another lie slipped from my tongue, causing a knot of guilt to form in the pit of my stomach. It was becoming easier by the day to spin an untrue tale, and my hole was deepening, and the walls hardening to stone.
“Do you think you could come and visit soon?” she asked tentatively.
“I’m not sure,” I replied hesitantly. “I’m not entirely set on what I will do next. I’m working at a pub to earn some money at the moment.”
“A pub?” I could hear the distaste in her voice.
“It’s honest work and they pay well enough.”
“No doubt. Come when you are able,” she said. “I would genuinely love to see you again.”
I assured her I would do what I could, and with a promise to check my messages more often, I ended the call and pondered everything she had just told me.
What did Mr. Briggs have to speak to me about that was so urgent?
I assumed it was to do with my circumstances at Thornfield. When I had not accessed my money or displayed interest in my holdings, Mr. Briggs would have gone to the hotel searching for me and had most likely found Alice, who would have told him much of my situation. I wondered if Edward had been in residence and if so, what had been discussed with him.
Realizing I could never be rid of the memory of the brooding man I’d fallen in love with, I knew I had to face my future sooner or later. With this in mind, my plans to search for new lodgings were forgotten, and I made a call to Mr. Briggs at his office in central London. When he was not available, I made an appointment with his secretary.
Perhaps he could help me where I could not help myself.
* * *
Iwentto see Mr. Briggs at his office in Bloomsbury the next morning.
The offices of Briggs, Farnham, and Associates sat in a grand office space in a converted row house overlooking Bloomsbury Square, a mere two minute walk from the famous British Museum. The oak paneled walls were adorned with traditional paintings—varying from portraits of lawyers and judges past to rolling landscapes, all in gilded frames—and the carpet was a rich emerald green.
When I entered and made myself known to the woman at the reception desk, I installed myself on the leather couch opposite and waited.
After I’d spoken to Georgiana and made the appointment for today, I’d spent all night worrying about what this could all be about. My sleep was restless as my mind churned, pulling all sorts of fabrications and scenarios out of thin air.
I fancied Edward had come looking and found me huddled in Rivers’s spare bedroom, his anger absolute. When he’d heard of the painter’s attentions during the retreat, he’d displayed unmasked jealousy toward the bohemian, signaling he would not allow any other to whisk me away. At least not when he was so invested.
Sighing, I pushed my overripe thoughts to the back of my mind and decided it could not be all that bad, and if it was, then I would just have to deal with it. There would be no other choice.
Mr. Briggs didn’t keep me waiting, coming to greet me in person. It had been some months since I’d seen him, though he looked exactly the same in his suit and tie. His salt and pepper hair was a little longer and perhaps a little more saltier, but he was a familiar sight.
“Miss Eyre,” he said, ushering me forward. “It’s a pleasure to see you. Thank you for seeking me out.”
“Of course.” I rose to my feet and shook his hand before following him down the hall to his private office.
“Please, have a seat.”
I sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk, perching gingerly on the edge as my eye took in the room.
“I called to see how you were faring, but when I could not get in touch with you, I began to worry,” he explained, closing the door behind him. “The only contact information I had on record was Thornfield and your cousin at Gateshead. No one seemed to know where you had disappeared to.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Briggs,” I said, ashamed I’d worried the man who had only watched out for me thus far. “My circumstances changed quite rapidly.”
“More than finding out about your inheritance?” he asked with a smile as he sat behind his desk.
My lips quirked with a ghost of a smile, and I nodded.
I knew there was much more to his question than a simple ‘how are you’ as I watched him begin to fiddle restlessly with his pen. Nausea began to roll in my stomach, and my chest throbbed, the scars from my stab wounds flaring like a pair of alarm bells.
