He knew there were methods to help with ailments of the eye, but spectacles were expensive, and he couldn’t expect Mr. Barnave, as good a master as he was, to buy a pair for Laurent, especially not so close to the end of their contract. Mentioning it could deny Laurent even the smallest chance of finding employment in Brecon once he was free of the obligations of indenture. It didn’t help that Laurent’s feelings on the matter were getting graver by the day.
With the rapid progression the illness had made in the recent two years, reducing Laurent to having to remember all the titles in the shop to the letter and using a magnifying lens when there was no one to witness it, he became certain his eyesight was on an unstoppable path to complete darkness. There was no hope left, and once the term ended and he became a free man again, he would be left with only the clothes on his back and with a condition deeming him unable to find work.
At least things located farther away were still within the grasp of Laurent’s eyes, and he was glad to see the woods clear ahead of him. He sped up, eager to reach a place with more illumination. The moon was exceptionally large tonight, although curiously tinged, as if rusty water had stained its pristine surface.
When he reached the last of the trees, Mr. Fane’s house came into view with its white facade grand enough to be a town hall, two sets of steps at the front, a colonnade framing the porch, and a large balcony in the second floor. It was magnificent, so beautiful in its symmetry enclosed with an elegant fence of stone and metal.
Laurent licked his lips, trying to calm his furiously beating heart. Not a single candle was lit in the mansion, which struck him as somewhat odd, but then again, maybe life looked different beyond the borders of his town? He’s never been in the countryside in his life, briefly passing it by on the way to La Rochelle where Father signed Laurent off to the captain of a ship heading to the Americas just weeks after he and Mother had another child.
A light breeze carried the scent of flowers, and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes and simply enjoying the way his long hair slid against his cheeks. Like he hoped Mr. Fane’s fingers might tonight. It was so peaceful. Maybe he’d be allowed to spend more time out here, if he managed to forge a close friendship with Mr. Fane?
“Laurent, you’re early.”
Laurent swallowed a yelp that almost escaped his lips, but he recognized Mr. Fane’s voice in time. He pulled up the lantern and looked around, frustrated just how poor his vision of things nearby was. If Mr. Fane knew of this, would he still have invited him?
“Good evening, Mr. Fane.” Laurent took a few steps in the direction of the voice.
The light touched a huge rock that laid on its side by the tree line and was tall enough to be the size of the head of the legendary cyclops. Mr Fane’s graceful body stretched on a dainty bench, which has been positioned in such a way that the sitter could watch this marvellous proof of geological development of the region.
“Good evening to you as well. I hope you are not overly exhausted after the march, but I could not spare my chaise tonight,” Mr Fane said, slowly getting up and supporting his long body with a gracefully-looking cane that he likely didn’t need at all. It was merely a sign of his status, just like the expensive, perfectly tailored clothes he always wore.
Laurent hugged the bag with books to his chest. “Not a problem at all, I’ve enjoyed the walk. Sitting at the desk from dusk till dawn is not ideal for a man of my age. And you, Mr. Fane?” He squinted to work out the pile of overturned dirt and grass by the rock. Laurent held his lantern higher to see better, but it was futile. “Surely, you haven’t been gardening, have you?” He laughed out loud at the absurdity of that concept.
Now that Mr. Fane approached, the face that seemed so symmetrical from afar was starting to blur, but Laurent was determined not to show any worry or hesitation.
Mr. Fane looked back at the stirred ground. “Ah, this. It’s nothing worth watering,” he said with a wide smile. “Have you told anyone other than Mr. Barnave where you were heading tonight?”
“No, I— pardon me if it seems too sad, but I don’t have many friends. I have books instead.” Laurent looked up at the darker spots on Mr. Fane’s face—his eyes. Laurent was a man of reasonable height, but Mr. Fane was more impressive in that quality. “I am not a loner though! I just… rarely meet a man who knows enough about books to keep me entertained in conversation.” He dared a smile but stopped both breathing and talking when Mr. Fane’s warm fingers skirted over his jaw and pushed some of the long hair behind Laurent’s ear.