Chapter 40 - Forty
Sunlight streamed through the high windows of Ryan’s study, casting a warm glow on the carefully organized papers spread across his desk. He carefully scanned the guest list and the ball account Suzy had presented the previous night. A grudging admiration tugged at the edges of his stoicism. Suzy, despite her stubbornness and annoying attitude, had carefully planned the event. The guest list was complete, the finances in order, and a clear vision for the decorations and entertainment was outlined.
"Impressive," he murmured to himself, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. He hadn’t expected such thoroughness, especially in his absence. Perhaps, his harsh judgments about Suzy needed some... revision.
Just then, a soft knock on the door interrupted his train of thought. "Enter," he called out curtly.
The door creaked open, and Davis entered the room. He held a small silver tray, on which rested two sealed letters.
"Two letters for you, Your Grace," Davis announced, his voice a low rumble.
Ryan set down the guest list and extended a hand. Davis placed the tray carefully on the desk, and Ryan picked up the letters. One bore the familiar royal crest, the official seal of the King himself. The other, considerably plainer, held a single, bold initial – "E."
A frown creased Ryan’s brow as he recognized the second letter. It had been arriving for months now, always with the same initial, always addressed to him. He had a habit of stockpiling them in a drawer, a nagging curiosity warring with his apprehension.
He glanced at Davis, a question forming in his eyes. Davis, as if anticipating his inquiry, spoke first.
"The King’s letter arrived this morning, Your Grace," he explained. "The other... came yesterday although it has been delivered consistently over the past few months."
"Yes," Ryan acknowledged, his voice laced with a hint of annoyance. "I’m aware, Davis. You can dispose of the one with the initial. It’s obviously unimportant. In fact," he continued, his voice hardening, "tell the servants not to deliver any more letters with that initial.
Davis hesitated, his brow furrowed slightly. "As you wish, Your Grace" he replied, his tone respectful but firm. "However," he continued, barely a whisper, "might I suggest..."