Meal and water in hand, I hurry back down the hall. Our housekeeper is sitting up in bed when I arrive, her hair neatly tidied and a strained smile on her face. Her eyes dart to the door and then back to me when she sees the jam-covered bread I’m carrying.
“Oh, Jasper,” she chides.
“You’ll need your strength,” I defend, handing it over, along with the water.
“You are too good for this world, my sweet boy.”
Despite her words, Catherine doesn’t seem upset with me. Her eyes close as she takes a bite of the bread, the jam a luxury she’s not often afforded.
“This world needs more good,” I point out, settling the blankets around her hips. “Will you be able to manage until I return? Father is having me join him at the printing press today.”
“More lessons,” she says evenly, an eyebrow raised.
I let out a sigh, the apprenticeship not of my own choosing. But what is?
Catherine pats my hand. “I’ll manage fine. Go on, my boy.”
Giving the back of Catherine’s hand a quick kiss, I nod and take my leave. My own bedchamber is on the opposite end of the house, the room nearly four times the size of Catherine’s. I’m already dressed for the day, but I pull on a coat from my wardrobe before setting off to complete my tasks.
The stables are on the outskirts of the town center, between a tavern and a saddler. Luckily, the weather is fair today, affording me a comfortable walk. I pass others on my way, nodding politely, avoiding looking too long at the clusters of women in their colorful dresses. Ribbons adorn the wealthiest of the bunch. Other men and women are dressed more modestly, their attire simple like Catherine’s.
The smell of the horses reaches me first, manure a potent scent not easily masked. I relish the baseness of it. The musky undertones that speak of earth and nature. I prefer it over the burnt oil of the printer, the chemicals used for the process not pleasant to my nose.
I pull in a deep breath before rounding the corner of the stables, seeking out the stable master to reserve a carriage on my family’s behalf. All I see, however, are the horses.
“Good morrow?” I call gently.
A head pops out from around a wooden partition separating two horse stalls, its owner quickly following. My breath this time is involuntary. A quick snap of my lungs I do my very best to conceal under a hastily pasted-on smile. The man who walks my way is young. Not much older than my twenty years, if I had to guess. And certainly not the elder stable master I was expecting.
The stranger sets his rake to the side as he stops in front of me. “Good morrow. May I help you?”
“You’re not Victor,” I say, although I’m sure he knows as much.
He smiles at that, and I twine my fingers together in front of myself, suddenly needing a task for my hands. “No. I am not. Abraham Morris.”
I stare at the man’s outstretched hand for a moment too long before taking his palm in my own. His skin is callused and warm, even a little dirty. Yet I don’t mind it one bit.
“Jasper Sinclair,” I offer. “Pleasure.”
He smiles again, letting my hand go. Abraham’s shirt is a simple white, laced in front, although not pristine considering the work he does. His breeches are brown, a complement to his lifestyle. He’s not wearing a waistcoat, nor a coat at all, for that matter. He’s dressed as commonly as any stable hand I’ve ever met, and yet my pulse quickens at the sight of him. I forget, for a moment, what I’m even here for.
Abraham’s voice cuts through my daze, bringing me squarely back to the business at hand. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Oh, yes. A carriage.”
“Ah.” His eyes skip to the large leather book sitting atop a table nearby. “Then you will need Victor. He should return tomorrow or the day after.”
I deflate, knowing my mother will not be pleased to hear of the delay. “I understand,” I tell him, not begrudging his being unallowed or unable to assist me. “Why is it I’ve never met you before?”
Abraham seems surprised by the question but not displeased. “I only started working under Victor earlier this year.I assume our paths have not had the chance to cross before now. It is a large town.”
That it is. And our social circumstances, different as they are, would have kept us naturally apart.
I nod idly, my eyes mapping Abraham’s strong jaw and full lips.
“Jasper?”
My pulse hastens at Abraham’s curious tone. Straightening, I take a step back. “I must go. I… I’ll return again. Please let Victor know if you see him?”
