Dear Bartleby, page 14
“It’s incredible,” I said. “I’ve never been in a treehouse before. What do you plan to do with it when it’s done?”
He smiled softly and didn’t look at me as he said quietly, “Well, I should very much like to have it ready for when I have children.”
“Oh,” I said. “How funny. Charles and I were just talking about that. He and Gavin won’t be having any children, and he asked me if I wanted them.”
“Do you?” he said, turning to me.
It is strange, Bartleby, because I’ve sat next to the man at lunch and walked with him for weeks. But it wasn’t until that moment, when he was standing so close, with his hand clasping mine in the dim light of the treehouse, that I noticed how lovely and dark his eyes were. I was flustered by the observation.
“Er,” I said. “I think so. That is, I believe I could be happy either way. If I’m honest, I’ve barely thought about it at all. I suppose I’ve always thought I’d decide when I met someone. Find out what he wanted.”
He smiled and gave my hand a small squeeze. “I should very much like a family. A large one. If I get this position—” He broke off and let go of my hand, stepping away from me to look out the window of the treehouse. I’m embarrassed to say that I felt the loss rather keenly. “If I get this position,” he said. “I would be well set up to adopt a whole bunch of children. The house isn’t all that big, but it’s large enough to room four or five little ones comfortably.”
“But wouldn’t you be gone a great deal? In London?”
He shrugged. “His lordship thinks that most of the work would be in correspondence; there would only be a need to go to London once or twice a month. And besides,” he added, leaning against the window with a wide grin. “I love the idea of coming home and having a small crowd of children running out to greet me. It—” He turned to me. “It sounds quite perfect, really. Having a family and husband to come home to.”
I could picture it: Mr. Ayles walking down the long drive to his home, a whole bundle of children dashing down the road to meet him. The thought made me feel absolutely wonderful. I realized Mr. Ayles was looking at me very intently, which unnerved me rather.
I looked away and said, “Yes, I daresay it does.” Then I continued airily, “It sounds as if you have your whole future worked out. I’ve, er…I’ve only just started thinking about mine.”
He chuckled and the tension in the room dissolved. “Well, I’m an only child. I’ve known some aspects of my future for years. And besides,” he went on, “I’m a little older than you. I can tell you I did not have all this worked out when I was your age.”
“How old are you?” I asked, turning back to him.
“Seven and twenty,” he said.
“Oh,” I said. “You’re about Gavin’s age. Not that much older than I am.”
“Indeed,” he said. “It is a rather good age difference, I fancy.” He smiled. “Come on, let’s go back inside. I imagine the subject has changed by now.”
As I climbed down after him, I felt as though a pleasant and important moment had been ruined. In fact, I felt a little guilty about it. So when I got to the ground, I put a hand on his arm before he could walk away. He turned back to me inquiringly.
“I do like your view for the future, Mr. Ayles,” I said. “I’m sorry for being so…flippant earlier.”
He gave me a soft smile. “No need to apologize, Mr. Hartford. I have a tendency to read people fairly quickly. I flatter myself that I am rarely wrong in my first impressions. But I often forget that others do not make such quick assessments. It is a bad habit of mine, I’m afraid. I tend to assume everyone else around me has come to the same conclusions I have.”
“I have the opposite problem,” I said. “I’ve been trying to be more cautious in my own assessments of people.”
He tucked his hand around my arm and led the way back toward the house. “I think you do not give yourself enough credit, my friend.”
My head whipped around at the word and he looked at me in bemusement. I felt myself flush.
“Did I say something wrong?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “On the contrary.”
He frowned a little, questioningly.
I sighed. “Well, I had several friends at Oxford, but it took me leaving Oxford to realize they are all quite horrible people. So I’ve been careful in applying the term to anyone. I was hoping I might consider you a friend but—”
He smiled. “You certainly may.” He hesitated. “If I can be honest...”
“Please do,” I said.
“I consider you my friend, but I would very much like to be more than a friend, eventually. If you have a mind to it.”
I stared in surprise at his directness. “Truly?”
“Truly,” he said. “Gradually,” he added, smiling. “So that you can feel more comfortable with the notion. To decide if you like it.”
“I think I already do like it,” I mumbled.
He chuckled and pulled me toward the house. “I know we’ve only known each other for about three weeks, but as I said before, I tend to come to conclusions about people fairly quickly. I recognize that you may not feel the same way about me, at least not yet. So you need not even consider this an official…declaration. More along the lines of you knowing where I stand and how I feel. I’d hate for you to think I hold you in any less regard than I do.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I suppose it’s only fair to tell you that I…hold you in rather high regard as well.”
He grinned. “Thank you. I did hope that might be the case. I really don’t mean to pressure you toward any particular decision. Only, I would be very grateful if you gave the matter some thought. There is no hurry; I know you’ve only just decided to stay in town. Regardless of whether or not I am selected for the position, I will still live here. I shall have less to offer, of course, in terms of financial security, but—well, it won’t change the way I feel in any case. I’ve felt for a while now that you are exactly who I would like to spend the rest of my life with. As long as I can claim you as my friend, I’m not particularly concerned about when the rest of my life begins, if you understand me.”
“I do. And I will,” I said. “Think about it, that is.”
“Thank you,” he said, giving my arm a light squeeze.
We walked back into the house and it was very evident that the other three gentlemen had been talking about us, for they all turned and looked at us with a great deal of amusement and curiosity.
“The garden is lovely,” I said to Mr. Robert and Mr. Algernon.
“Thank you, Mr. Hartford,” Mr. Robert said, smiling at me. “I’m glad you enjoyed your stroll.”
“Did Laury tell you about his plans for expansion?” Mr. Algernon said. “He is quite the visionary, you know.”
I could feel a blush coming on. “He did,” I said. “And he is.” I didn’t quite dare to look at Mr. Ayles when I said this.
“Well,” Charles said, standing. “We won’t intrude upon your hospitality any longer. Thank you, gentlemen. It has been a delightful visit.”
We all bowed. Charles put an arm around my shoulders as we walked out.
He didn’t say a word until we had gone down the road some distance.
“You two were gone a nice long while,” he said.
I cleared my throat. “Yes, well, he wanted to tell me of his plans to expand the garden.”
“Indeed? And what did you think of them?”
“His plans?”
He nodded.
“Well, they’re very clever, of course.”
“Of course.”
“What did you talk about while we were gone?”
Charles grinned. “Well, we talked about the two of you a great deal.”
I groaned. “God keep me from nosy older brothers.”
He laughed and, mercifully, did not pursue the subject.
I should add that I’m gaining a frightful proficiency in Bertie’s hand-cramp tincture.
7 September 1817
Dear Bartleby,
Thought about the conversation with Mr. Ayles all night and I still can’t get it out of my head. The fact is, I rather like the idea of being courted by the gentleman. He’s so very kind and clever and good. He’s very open and forthright about who he is. And of course, he’s extraordinarily attractive. The life he envisions for himself—well, it’s nothing like what I might have imagined for myself a year ago. I had rather hoped to find someone like Charles, a dashing and wealthy gentleman who could spoil me. But now? I’m not so sure that would actually please me. After all, I live in a grand house now and it usually feels far too big. I do not like how often I find myself alone in it. Whereas living in that little cottage with a man who likes my company and thinks of me as a friend…He might be gone a great deal, but it would be an easy distance to Charles and Gavin if I got lonesome, and I could possibly even still work for Bertie. Although I’m not sure how that would work with all of the children—
Well, anyhow, it all sounds quite lovely. But it also feels rather soon. I’m not even finished with my own schooling yet; I know I shall be done by the year’s end, but all the same…I’ve only just made my first big decision about the future.
I would very much like some advice on the matter. The question is, who to ask?
Sat next to Mrs. Fossett today, asked her what she hopes to do if she gets the position. She said that she wants to use the position to improve magical education in the country. She particularly wants to see better opportunities for the lower classes and nextborns. Apparently, that’s her true passion, which I thought was interesting. She has all sorts of ideas for what the Royal Spellcaster could do in that regard, so it would appear she’s given it a great deal of thought.
Bertie gave me a new report to work on, so I was pulling books off of shelves all through my study period.
Afterward, he surprised me by giving me work in the study. I’m to fill out the invitations to the ball. He wrote out the first one and then gave me a list of everyone who is to be invited. It seems like he wants to invite not only the applicants and their guests, but a great deal of the local residents. I should add, Bartleby, that my name was on the list. Which is perfectly thrilling! I think it will be a very fine affair. Quite a good number of people are coming, so I did not finish the stack. Shall have to work on it tomorrow.
Mr. Ayles was kept later today so I left without him. I was disappointed as I do love his company. But as I haven’t made up my mind regarding the discussion we had yesterday, it might be better that we didn’t talk today.
Just remembered it’s Pip and Gerry’s day off. Going to see if they want to practice the tea spell with me.
8 September 1817
Dear Bartleby,
Sat next to the major today. He thinks magic should be applied more particularly to the military. He would like to see more spells designed for that purpose. Personally, I find it rather frightful to think of magic being used as a weapon. I’m not exactly surprised by his goal, though.
Started writing my report and then I finished up the invitations.
Walked home with Mr. Ayles today. I was worried it would be awkward after my visit to his house, but as usual, he seemed completely at ease and I found myself able to talk to him as before. He did not bring up the conversation we had the other day. He must really have meant it when he said not to rush in my consideration. I would worry that he had regretted saying anything, but his manner was every bit as warm and friendly as before.
I told him I had enjoyed meeting his parents and he replied with a beautiful smile.
“I know I am terribly biased, but they really are quite wonderful, aren’t they?” he said. “They adopted me when I was a baby. Hired a wetnurse and everything. They really wanted to see me grow up.”
“So you’ve only ever known your life with them?”
“Exactly. As far as I’m concerned, it’s the only life I’ve ever had.”
“Will you—” I broke off because I realized I was about to ask him something related to our previous conversation and I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate.
He glanced at me and put a light hand to my back. “Go on,” he said gently.
“Er, will you be adopting children as infants, do you think?”
He smiled. “Possibly. Although I have looked into the matter a little and my understanding is that most people wish to adopt infants. So many older children are left behind. It would also be a trifle more difficult to leave an infant at home if I had to go to London. So I think I would primarily adopt children over the age of two or three. But I’m not set on that notion.”
I nodded.
He withdrew his hand from my back. “It was a little different for my parents. They could only afford one child and they were both living at home. So raising me from infancy was an easier decision for them to make.”
It struck me that it had been impolite for me to bring it up when I had no idea yet what I wished to say to him. I cast about for a change in topic. “What have you been doing in the afternoons this week?” I blurted. “That is, last week was theory. What is it this week?”
“Spell-building,” he said.
“Really? How is that going?”
“Well, it is a trifle different than the previous weeks. We are to design some spells, but we are doing that on our own time. Then we will be showcasing them later.”
“What spells are you designing?”
“We have to design two different spells. One is to be something useful, one is to be an illusion. We have to showcase our ability for both traditional style spellwork and Motion spellwork. And at least one of them must be something particular to ourselves.”
“What do you mean, particular to yourselves?”
He grinned. “Actually, I suspect his lordship was inspired by you with that.”
“Me?”
“You’ve been asking everyone this week what they plan to do if they are appointed to the position. His lordship has asked us to design a spell that reflects what we hope to accomplish if we are selected.”
“I didn’t realize anyone had noticed I was asking about that.”
He chuckled. “I fancy his lordship is a very purposeful person. I believe it is by design that he has you join us for lunch every day. He likes to see the way people interact with each other. He notices things.” He shrugged. “It is a good notion in any case. I would very much like to see what sort of spell Mrs. Fossett comes up with to advance education.”
“What are you going to do? That is, what do you hope to accomplish?”
“It is harder to explain succinctly, I’m afraid. I feel as though magic is often out of many people’s grasp. Partly due to education and partly due to lack of resources. One has to go to a spell shop to buy a spell. Your sister has very good pricing and, from what I can tell, she works to make sure every customer gets what they need, even if they can’t strictly afford it. But she is a rarity in that way. For many people, magic is too costly to be really helpful. Magic has so much potential,” he went on. “And people everywhere have great potential to do magnificent things with magic if only it was more accessible for them.” He smiled. “It is not as easy to explain, I suppose, as better education or better military spells.”
“I don’t think that matters,” I said. “Do you know what sort of spell you’re going to do?”
“I have some ideas,” he said. “But I’m still working on it.”
“I guess I’ll have to ask Mr. Voss and Miss Locke next.”
He grinned. “I wouldn’t be at all surprised if his lordship arranged the table particularly for that purpose.”
“Do you really think he would?”
“It’s a different question, coming from you. No one feels as though they’re on the spot or they have to prove anything to his lordship in answering you. I think he recognizes that.”
“I’m not sure Mr. Voss will tell me. It’s difficult getting him to talk to me at all.”
“I imagine he will be pleased as anything to tell you about his own goals and plans.”
We reached the usual divide in paths home.
“A pleasure as always, Mr. Hartford,” Mr. Ayles said, before bowing and heading home.
I stood and watched him walk away. I wonder if he will be right in his guess about where I will sit tomorrow.
9 September 1817
Dear Bartleby,
Received my invitation for the ball, which is hilarious since I’m the one who wrote it. But I’m glad to have it; it will be a nice keepsake. The ball is being held on the 19th of September. Charles told me at breakfast that he has already put in an order for my clothes. I didn’t even think about it, so I’m glad he did. Everyone at our house is going. I’m relieved, for it means I will have people to talk to. I expect the applicants will be surrounded by people asking them questions and getting to know them. So I can’t imagine I will be able to talk to any of them very much.
Sat between Miss Locke and Bertie today. I glanced at Mr. Ayles when I saw who my neighbors were and he was grinning like anything.
Asked Miss Locke what she would do in the position. She told me it was an impertinent question, but then proceeded to launch into a sermon about how common magic is now, how it used to be this grand and well-regarded thing. She thinks it ought to go back to being grand and well-regarded. So her hope is to give the art and practice of magic more dignity and respect. It struck me as rather the opposite hope of Mr. Ayles’s. And, in a manner of speaking, of Mrs. Fossett’s. Both want to make magic more commonplace. I did not say this, of course. Bertie was busy talking to Mrs. Fossett on his left, but I fancy he was listening.
I had no work to do after I finished my report, so Bertie had me leave early. Walking home alone made me dashed contemplative. I kept thinking about Mr. Ayles and how much I liked his company and what I would say to him in answer to his declaration. I would very much like to ask someone’s advice on the subject, but I’m not sure who would be best suited. If I go to Charles, he’ll be terribly smug about being right all along. Gavin will likely have some helpful things to say, but he never does push me one way or another. Which I usually appreciate, but I think I should like to be pushed. Gerry is far pushier than Gavin, but I have a hard time talking to her about these things. I’m a little shy of asking Pip, but he is my friend. Isn’t that what friends do? Perhaps when he comes home tonight I’ll ask him.
