John Paul’s mood was far too restless for sleep, but he had sensed that Henry was tired and so he’d pushed for them to retire early. A thousand thoughts buzzed at the back of his mind as he lay in bed, but foremost in his mind was his next appointed rendezvous with Lydia. It was four days’ time from now, thanks to a long list of obligations he had little interest in interfering with. And yet he wanted to see her still.
He got up from his bed and looked out the window at the dark sky. He could just see the moon through the trees, a little to the south. He dressed perfunctorily and started to walk towards town. He didn’t know exactly where he was going, but it seemed as good a direction as any. There would certainly be less concern about roving animals than his last night excursion.
He had been walking for an hour or more when he passed a pair of bodies on the road. For a moment he feared that they might be hurt. A quick inspection showed them to be alive and well, with the strong smell of ale on their lips. Even in the thick blackness, John Paul recognized his servants and smiled. Well, he thought, they tried to get back anyways.
For a moment he considered taking them back. Carrying either one wouldn’t be too difficult, and then he could come back for the second and that would be no more difficult. Then he decided against it. Better not to disturb them.
John Paul looked up the street towards Derby. There was no sign of it from this distance, not even the tiniest twinkle of a street lamp. He shivered at the April cold, then thought for a moment and pulled off his coat. He laid it down over the sleeping pair as best he could, shivered again, and set off back toward his house.
He certainly didn’t waste any time this time ‘round; the April chill nipped at his heels the entire way. By the time he stepped through the door and closed it behind, he was ready to dive under his thick, warm blankets.
The next morning, his coat hung on a hook by the door, and a pair of bleary-eyed young men sat in his leather chairs dozing lightly. They opened their eyes the moment he walked into the room, of course, and he pretended not to have noticed.
They stood to greet him, and Thomas immediately set off to get started on a breakfast. It wouldn’t be too strenuous, and after all his wages were being paid whether he worked or not, so John Paul let him go. It was better that than to refuse him, after all, in either case.
He sat down beside Mark and waited for the breakfast to be ready. If Henry weren’t awake by the time it was, he’d wake the lad then.
“Long night?”
“Oh.” He stopped for a long pause, and for a moment John Paul thought he wanted to drop it. Then he spoke up once more. “Yeah, long night. Yeah. We made a few shillings in a card game, but… I shouldn’t be telling you this, should I?”
John Paul barked a laugh. “I was a soldier all my life, boy. I know how young men pass an evening.”
“Yeah, I suppose you would, sir, begging your pardon.”
“Freely given,” he said, before the two of them sank into moody silence.
A few moments later, a fresh-faced Henry Roche stepped into the room to join them both. A moment later Thomas carried a platter of eggs and a few muffins out of the kitchens. We dished them out and ate them, all four of us, sitting down on the seats in the front room. When he had finished, John Paul rose and set his plate down on the table.
“Thank you, Thomas. Mark, Henry, have a good time, I’ll be heading into town for a few hours.”
Without waiting for a response, he left them all sitting there in the front room eating their breakfast. It was maybe an hour’s ride into town, if you weren’t in any special hurry, and John Paul wasn’t. He wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted there, except for the overwhelming feeling that he should go.
The first place he did go, when he arrived, was the bookstore. He smiled at the young man behind the counter and asked if he had any sort of recommendations. The young man smiled back and pulled a book from the shelf. John Paul ignored his sales pitch; he would buy it regardless. There wasn’t much reason to spoil the surprise, so long as it was good.
He paid the man and stepped outside, slipping the book into a saddle bag. They hadn't seen much use, though they had seemed a smart purchase when he’d made it, so he was glad that he’d found an excuse to use them now.
/>
It wasn’t long before he found himself walking past the front glass of Wakefield’s furniture shop. He didn’t need any furniture, but he did know that Lydia would be there. And that was all he needed to know, in terms of where he might go. He had told himself that it wouldn’t be an excuse to visit, but that was what the trip had become.
He kept pretending it was not, though. He walked right by the front door, careful not to look at it as he walked. He was going to resist the temptation to stop in and waste everyone’s time with idle chit-chat. Only, just after he’d gone past, he recalled a particularly nice pair of gloves that sat in a store window, and so he had to go back and have a look. After all, his old gloves were beginning to wear a bit thin.
Then he had to go back again, to see what he’d missed on the other side. Before he knew it he was doing little more than taking a particularly long course of pacing in front of the store. The fact settled in that he was looking for an excuse to walk by the door, teasing himself with the temptation of talking to Lydia.
He had little patience for the whole exercise. If he was going to hem and haw around, then he would just go inside. He stopped outside the door for a moment before pressing it open easily.
Part 2
Chapter 6
He heard the bell ring as the door swung open, and Lydia looked up from the customer she was speaking to for a moment. He could see her smile, though she had always been quite good at hiding it and he was only just learning how to see when she was glad and when she was being polite. Then she returned to the customer.
He hadn’t even considered the possibility that someone might be there. The place was usually empty when he came in, though he’d seen people inside before, and the thought that he might have to wait seemed utterly foreign. He stood off to one side and stared at a bookshelf.
It seemed as if the man standing at the counter took forever to leave; John Paul had quickly lost interest of the bookshelf, as fine as the craftsmanship was, and had moved on to a desk, and then a chair that seemed very nearly the twin of the ones in his front parlor. He had almost sat down in it out of exasperated boredom when he heard the bell twinkle again, and when he turned to look, the room was empty save for a pair of women sitting behind the thick wooden counter.
“Mister Foster,” the angelic voice said. “How can I help you today?”