Broken Mirror

Chapter Twelve: Belated Punishment

The morning dawned frigid and without promise of peace returning to my family. Father didn't arrive back home until early morning just after midnight. He had been in pubs drinking away his sorrows again and Momma was beginning to grow worried about father's, mental state.

I knew father had always enjoyed a good drink of alcohol whether it was wine or whiskey with dinner or a brandy and a cigar afterwards, but he had never been one to get drunk, especially since Momma frowned upon such behavior. Father's job as well demanded he remain sober for it was hard to settle financial deals with a pounding headache and impaired memory and judgement. Appearance was everything in father's line of work and someone with a failing image would lose customers and partners.

Father's, despairing state left Ryan feeling uneasy and confused. He had never seen father in this position before either and he didn't know how to handle the disorder. Ryan just like father always despised great change. Change as father had taught Ryan was unpredictable and in an instant, could become a financier's, worst enemy. Now Ryan was seeing change in father and he didn't know what to do to prevent it.

Ryan departed a day after receiving his ordered suits in the mail. He left without saying goodbye or any other form of parting to me which didn't surprise or phase me. Ryan had a fair amount of stress and anxiety plaguing him since he first witnessed my illogical and unruly behavior, but he was determined to leave behind his uncertainties to finish his last semester in college before joining father's ranks.

I was glad of Ryan's absence, but soon I had greater problems of my own.

Father decided the only way to prevent me from having any more dealings with Thomas was to put as much space as he could between us. His solution was to send me to London to live with Reginald Williams, an ally of his, for a short period of time hoping new scenery would remove all of my disobedience.

The beginning of the new month marked the start of a dreaded, different living arrangement.

* * *

Early December

The first day of the last month brought with it a light dusting of snow upon the ground. The sky was overcast and gray and matched my glum, disheartened mood.

I didn't want to live with an overzealous, pompous, British man from the heights of London society who only would talk about politics at every occasion he got to boast about his accomplishments.

I was left standing outside of his house in the cold with my trunks at my feet and I had been abandoned without either of my parents or Maggie coming along for the car ride to bid me goodbye. I reluctantly rang the bell and almost instantly the door swung open.

A butler had answered my call and after I handed him a letter from my father explaining who I was and the deal for me to reside in his master's house, he led me inside.

I had a guest room and private bathroom all to myself, but I couldn't shake the thoughts of homesickness out of my mind. I had already left behind my true place of residence in New York and now I had even been forced out of my home in Birmingham all because of events beyond my control caused me to defy family.

That night I met the critically acclaimed, (at least in father's mind and inner circles), Reginald Williams. He was a strangely tall yet portly, elderly man with an old-fashioned, handlebar mustache of a striking, gray color. His balding head contained limited hairs of the same shade and his laugh was a deep, throaty sound which I found to be annoying and distracting in most conversations.

Reginald's wife, Hellen, also joined us for dinner. She was a shrewd, posh woman who liked to talk down the less fortunate as if wealth and power were the only two things that mattered in life. She was always keen to join in her husband's boasting almost as if she wanted to take his accomplishments for herself. She was also fond of wearing absolutely every piece of expensive jewelry she owned as if to add a layer of frosting to her arrogant lifestyle.