Chapter 2 : Prisoner of Monte Manor

Morning light. Golden stripes on marble. I lay in the enormous bed. Staring at carved ceiling. For a moment, forgot. Then memory returned—banquet, interrupted performance, Samuel Monte. This luxurious prison.

Monte Manor.

Sat up. Silk sheets slid. Room even more impressive in daylight. Sunlight illuminated paintings—forests, mountains, stormy sea. Harpsichord by window beckoned. I resisted. Music had become a weapon. Not sure I wanted to touch it again.

Soft knock. "Master Adrian? Breakfast in your sitting room."

Female voice. Polite. Firm. Pulled on robe—dark blue velvet, silver thread embroidery. Opened door. Middle-aged woman in servant''s uniform. Hands folded.

"Mrs. Henderson, housekeeper." Slight curtsy. "Master Samuel asked me to ensure you have everything."

"Where''s my son?"

"Master Charlie having breakfast in nursery. Would you like to join him?"

Nodded. Followed her. Corridor. Monte Manor even larger than realized. Hallway stretched forever. Portraits—stern men, elegant women. All same dark hair, intense eyes as Samuel. His ancestors, I presumed.

Nursery at end of east wing. Sunlight streamed through large windows. Room filled with toys, books, small piano. Charlie at table. Carefully spreading jam on toast.

"Papa!" Jumped up. Ran to hug. Small arms around my waist. Everything else faded—revenge, imprisonment, mysterious Samuel Monte. Only my son. Safe. Well-fed.

"Sleep well?" Kneeling to his level.

Nodded vigorously. "Bed soft. Mrs. Henderson gave honey milk. And Samuel said I can have pony!"

Stiffened. "Samuel said that?"

"Came to say goodnight." Blue eyes wide with excitement. "Said when you''re feeling better, we can go to stables."

Forced smile. "That''s... generous."

Breakfast together—fresh bread, eggs, fruit, tea. Charlie chattered. Toys. Garden from window. Friendly cook made pancakes. Happy. Safer. Happier than months in rented rooms. Me constantly practicing deadly performance.

After breakfast, Mrs. Henderson appeared again. "Master Samuel would like to see you in study. When ready."

Kissed Charlie''s forehead. "Be good. Back soon."

"Can I play piano?" Pointing to small instrument.

"Of course. But gently."

Samuel''s study. Ground floor. Overlooking gardens. Door open. Found him standing by large desk. Studying map spread across surface. Looked up as I entered.

"Adrian. Hope you slept well."

"Well enough." Remained standing. Not accepting gesture toward chair. "You promised my son pony."

Samuel smiled. Easy, confident smile. Irritated and intrigued. "I did. Stables have several gentle ones. Charlie seems like he''d enjoy riding."

"He''s five."

"Old enough for pony with supervision." Leaned against desk. Crossed arms. "But not why I asked to see you. Need to establish... boundaries."

"Rules for your prisoner, you mean."

"Rules for your safety." Tone lost lightness. "First: may not leave Monte Manor without my permission. Grounds extensive—gardens, woods, lake. Free to explore. Gates remain closed."

"And if I try to leave?"

Expression didn''t change. Something hardened in eyes. "Won''t succeed. Put Charlie at risk. That what you want?"

Clenched jaw. "What else?"

"No contact with outside world. No letters, messengers, visits. Not until situation with Duke Winter resolved."

"How long will that take?"

"As long as necessary." Pushed away from desk. Walked to window. "Duke Winter not fool. Knows I took you publicly. Humiliated him. He''ll retaliate. Until I''ve neutralized threat, you stay."

"Neutralized?" Echoed. "What does that mean?"

Turned. Face in shadow against bright window. "Making sure he can never hurt you or Charlie. By any means necessary."

Cold finality in words. Chill through me. Not just wealthy merchant. Something darker beneath surface. Understood violence. Retribution.

"Third," continued, "allow physician to examine you. Regularly."

"Don''t need physician."

"Living on revenge and desperation for months." Bluntly. "Hands shake when not playing. Too thin. Cough trying to hide? Getting worse."

Hadn''t realized he''d noticed. "I''m fine."

"You''re not." Voice softened slightly. "Adrian, planning to die. Expected arrested, tried, executed after killing Winter. Stopped caring for yourself. That changes now."

No response. Right, of course. Revenge been my food, drink, reason for breathing. Taken from me. Hollow. Violin with strings cut.

"Physician this afternoon. Dr. Evans. Discreet. Competent. Cooperate with him."

Not a question.

"Is that all?" Coldly.

"For now." Studied me long moment. "Library well-stocked. Music room several instruments. Gardens beautiful this time of year. Make use. Not just prison, Adrian. Sanctuary, if you let it."

Turned to leave. Voice stopped me.

"One more thing."

Paused. Not turning around.

"Tonight, after Charlie asleep, join me for dinner. Things to discuss. Private things."

Didn''t answer. Walked out.

Rest of morning exploring manor. Testing boundaries. Main doors locked. Servant appeared instantly when approached. Offered to fetch whatever needed. Windows ground floor barred—not obviously. Decorative ironwork. Difficult to break through.

Gardens open. Walked through rose arbors. Past fountains. Sculpted hedges. Down to lake. Swans glided across still water. Estate surrounded by high stone wall. Old. Ivy-covered places. Perhaps climbable, if determined.

But Charlie. Always Charlie. Couldn''t risk escape attempt. Might fail. Result separated. Worse.

Afternoon. Dr. Evans arrived—gray-haired man. Kind eyes. Gentle hands. Examined in sunlit room. Temporary surgery.

"Lungs congested." Listening through stethoscope. "Too many nights damp rooms. Not enough proper food."

Had me remove shirt. Examined chest, back. Fingers probed gently along ribs, spine. Reached old scars on back—ones from foster father''s belt. Paused.

"These old." Quietly.

"Childhood."

Didn''t press further. Expression grew more concerned. Continued examination. Asked to see hands. Hesitated.

"Silver thimble." I said. "Stays on."

Dr. Evans looked over spectacles. "Master Samuel said you might say that. Also said I should insist."

Reluctantly, removed thimble. Doctor''s face professionally neutral. Examined mutilated fingers. Saw slight tightening around eyes.

"Wounds healed cleanly, considering. Residual nerve damage. Experience pain when playing?"

"Sometimes."

"Cold weather?"

"Always."

Made notes in small book. "Prepare salve for scar tissue. Exercises maintain flexibility. But Master Adrian..." Met my eyes. "Whoever did this... meant to cripple you. Not just physically."

Looked away. "Will that be all, Doctor?"

"For today." Packed instruments. "Return three days. Meantime, rest. Eat well. Try to... breathe. Just breathe."

After he left, went to bathing room. Copper tub filled with steaming water. Scented lavender oil. Sank into it. Heat seeped into bones.

Clear water. Body pale. Marked. Scars on back. Thinner ones ribs from childhood beatings. Newer ones hands from hours practice. Between legs, faint silvery lines from surgery after Charlie''s birth—only physical reminder of mother. Died bringing him into world.

Traced scars with fingertips. Remembering each injury. Each moment pain. Body map of suffering. Testament survival. But for what? End up here. Another man''s house. Another man''s control?

Door opened without warning. Tensed. Instinctively covering. But only Samuel.

"Dr. Evans gave report." Leaning against doorframe. Didn''t seem embarrassed by nakedness. Didn''t leer. Gaze clinical. Assessing.

"Didn''t invite you in." Coldly.

"Didn''t lock door." Eyes traveled over scars visible above waterline. "Says malnourished. Anemic. Lungs weak. Hands... need care if want to keep playing."

"Keep playing. With or without permission."

"Not trying to stop you." Walked to tub. Knelt beside. "Trying to help. But have to let me."

Hand reached toward water. Moment thought going to touch me. Instead, picked up silver thimble left on nearby stool.

"This." Turning in fingers. "Beautiful work. But cage, Adrian. Just like manor. Think protects you, but only isolates."

"Give that back."

Ignored me. Studying thimble. "Craftsman made this... understood both metal and music. Interior lined felt prevent chafing. Exterior polished reflect light, draw attention. Not meant to hide mutilation. Meant transform into something spectacular."

"How know that?"

"Commissioned it." Quietly.

Stared. "What?"

"Three years ago. Master silversmith capital came with commission request. Musician needed specialized thimble for mutilated fingers. Described client—young man extraordinary talent terrible scars. Funded commission anonymously."

Water suddenly felt cold. "Why?"

"Even then, heard of you. ''Silver Thimble Master.'' Reputation growing. And I... recognized something in story. Something familiar."

Placed thimble back on stool. "Get dressed. Dinner hour. Talk more then."

After left, stayed in cooling water. Trying process. Known about me years. Helped create symbol defined me. Now brought here. Gilded cage.

Why?

Dinner. Sat opposite ends long table. Dining room could seat fifty. Meal exquisite—roast pheasant, truffled potatoes, asparagus butter sauce. Ate silence first course. Only sounds clink silverware, crackle fireplace.

Finally, Samuel spoke. "Tell me about other two."

Looked up. "What?"

"Other two men want to kill. Duke Winter first. Who others?"

Set down fork. "Why tell you that?"

"Can help you." Eyes serious candlelight. "Not with killing. But... justice. Proper justice."

"Your kind justice? Buying people? Imprisoning?"

"Sometimes containment necessary before healing begin." Sip of wine. "Not ready hear this yet. But revenge won''t heal, Adrian. Only create new wounds."

"Don''t know what did to me."

"Can guess." Gaze dropped to hands. "Fingers obvious. Other scars... less so. But tell story."

Pushed plate away. Appetite gone. "What want from me?"

"Truth." Simply. "Not all at once. Not until ready. But eventually, want trust enough tell everything. Return, help find way live with it. Not just survive. Live."

"Make sound simple."

"Not simple. Hardest thing ever do." Leaned forward. Face earnest. "But have Charlie think about. Want grow up father consumed hatred? Or show even broken things mended?"

No answer. Truth, hadn''t thought Charlie''s future beyond keeping safe. Hadn''t considered kind of man teaching.

After dinner, went check Charlie. Asleep. Curled around stuffed bear. Brushed hair forehead. Watching peaceful face moonlight.

Corridor outside, Samuel waiting.

"Looks like you." Quietly. "Around eyes."

"Has mother''s hair."

"Was she...?" Hesitated. "In love with her?"

"Brief. Nobleman''s daughter, I musician. Not meant last. But Charlie... meant be."

Nodded. "Get rest. Tomorrow, show music room. Instruments across continent. Think appreciate."

Walked back room. Passed large mirror hallway. Stopped. Looking reflection—pale face, shadows under eyes, silver thimble gleaming right hand.

Prisoner beautiful cage. Musician without music. Father trying strong son. Man torn past vengeance uncertain future.

Watching shadows, mysterious benefactor seemed know more about me than knew myself.

Manor silent around, but feel secrets waiting discovered. Samuel''s secrets. My secrets. Truth why paths crossed fateful night.

Went bed. Sleep slow come. Every time closed eyes, saw Samuel''s face—deep brown eyes seemed see through defenses, lies, carefully constructed walls.

Who really? What truly want?

Questions followed dreams. Wandered endless corridors. Searching exit always just out reach.