Lucas awoke early the next morning, well aware he was not in his own bed, since his back displayed a tendency to ache as he pulled back the covers.
Edgar, who must have been waiting outside, immediately entered the room. “Good morning, Mr Lucas. I trust you slept well?” He rolled to the window and raised the blind. “It’s a lovely day.”
“That’s a matter of opinion.” Stretching and groaning, Lucas rotated his head on his neck. “I’d forgotten that my bed had so many lumps in it.”
“Time takes its toll, sir.”
Lucas heard the slight edge to the words. “I know, Edgar. I know only too well.”
“Let me set up your tray while you make yourself comfortable.”
“A tray? Damn, it’s been a long while since I had breakfast on a tray. Give me five minutes.”
“Of course, sir. You will find your robe behind the bathroom door.”
Edgar stepped back outside and brought in the food, walking to the small table and chairs that were already shining in the morning sunshine, and set the tray down with more care than strictly necessary, the small stack of gearcakes arranged with mathematical precision. Their edges were crisp and golden, each one cut into a neat cog, the teeth interlocking just slightly where they’d been stacked. A bowl of berry rivets sat to one side—blueberries and raspberries tumbled together in cheerful disorder—while a glass of fresh engine juice caught the light like liquid amber.
“I made your favourites,” Edgar said, not looking at Lucas who had come to stand beside him. “The ones you liked when you were small.”
The words caught him off guard. “I thought I’d imagined that,” he said quietly.
“You did not,” Edgar replied primly. “You insisted the gear teeth had to be even, or they wouldn’t work properly. You were very particular.”
Lucas smiled despite himself. “I still am.”
“Hmph. Yes. Well.” Edgar adjusted the tray by a fraction of an inch. “I suppose some things, at least, remain the same.” He reached across the table. “Your tea, sir. Just as you liked it...strong enough to be respectable, not so strong as to make you reckless.”
At that, Lucas had to laugh. “Edgar, you were always fascinating. Now I see you have become a marvel.”
“You are too kind, sir.”
Silverware clinked on china as Lucas ate his breakfast with an excellent appetite, finding his taste for gearcakes had never really diminished. He finished the plate with alacrity, and poured himself another cup of tea. “I have to confess that this isn’t quite how I imagined my return.” He leaned back in his chair. “I wasn’t expecting to find you here, Edgar. I thought you long gone.”
The tickerkin raised his beak, and Lucas swore he would have sniffed scornfully if he could. “An error on your part, Mr Lucas. You know very well that tickerkins have always had a very strong sense of duty to their assigned family.”
“You’ve shown that very well indeed.” He thought for a moment. “What happened after I left, Edgar?”
“Chaos, sir. Utter chaos.”
“My brother?”
“Silas was already enamoured of the Forge. You and I both know he had no real desire to tread in your father’s footsteps, and I recall you mentioning that it was as if he had a second home.”
Lucas nodded. “Indeed, yes.”
Edgar paused. “Then the unpleasantness with the Wardens...it was a difficult time for us all.”
“I can’t begin to imagine.”
“After that, Silas almost disappeared. He lived and worked at and for the Forge. He has a gift for it, Mr Lucas. And I think it brought him stability. Then, of course, not long ago he met Lady Dorothea Renslow.”
“His wife now, yes?”
Edgar stared at him. “You received your invitation to the wedding, didn’t you?”
“I did.” Lucas shrugged. “I could not leave at that time, unfortunately. I did send something, though, didn’t I?”
“I wouldn’t know. Her ladyship took care of all that. And since I was here, I had little to do with the whole thing anyway.” He sighed. “I admit I was hoping that they would take up residence at Ashcombe Manor, but nothing would stop them both from settling into their Undercroft home.”
