He knew not what book. His eyes wouldn’t rest on the page long enough to absorb the words. With every half-imagined floorboard creak they flicked to the door, which Daniel had left open the barest crack. The mantle-clock over the empty fireplace ticked. The candle burned down.
Then, just when Daniel had abandoned all hope of ever seeing Sukie this night, a true footstep creaked in the hallway outside.
Daniel’s heart leapt into his throat. He whirled toward the door. It swung inward with another long, low creak.
And Sukie stepped over the threshold.
She paused just afterward, taking in the room with wide dark eyes, and let out a low whistle.
Daniel, who had balanced on the brink of considering his private chamber a gilded cage, now found his opinion beginning to reverse as he beheld how it seemed to astonish and delight Sukie. He stood from his desk and offered her the choice of seat; his chair or his bed.
Without any hesitation she sat on the corner of his bed as casual and comfortable as if it were her own.
Daniel, after some small dithering on his part between what was prudent and what he truly wanted, sat down beside her.
And immediately realised he knew not what to say.
The nerves which had knotted his stomach and fingers alike now tied his tongue and forced it still.
But just when he felt on the verge of panic, staring into Sukie’s beautiful dark eyes, she smiled and parted her perfect rosebud lips.
“Do you read novels?” she asked.
Daniel confessed to this vice, which seemed to please her. She spoke of her favourites (mostly penny dreadfuls) and enquired after his (mostly chivalric romances) and grinned the most charming grin he’d ever beheld when he offered to let her borrow his books. Then the conversation turned to the academy and how she liked it and what she thought of its inhabitants, and from there Daniel learnt a great deal more than what he thought he knew about his fellow pupils. Whilst his tongue remained fettered, hers flew free as any bird. And indeed, her voice sounded sweeter than birdsong to his ears. He could listen to her chatter about anything for days on end. She spoke with a spirited air that quite belied her meek and mild comportment in the household below.
They whispered for hours, until the candle became a guttering stub in its tin holder and Sukie began to interrupt herself with yawns.
“Forgive me,” she said, stretching her arms wide.
“Perhaps we ought to part ways,” Daniel said—against the wishes of his own heart, which would have bid her stay and sleep beside him. “At least, until tomorrow eve.”
Sukie quite agreed and stood to go, smiling through another yawn. “Goodnight, Miss Fairfield.”
“You don’t have to call me that,” Daniel blurted.
Sukie blinked at him. “What ought I to call you instead?”
Daniel hesitated. He did not then know quite what he wished to be called. It felt foolish beyond words to ask after his trueheart’s desire. But after a moment, he settled on the answer. “Just Fairfield.”
After all, Felix’s friends at Eton called him simply, “Knoll.”
Sukie gave him a considering look. Only when a slight smile tugged at the corner of her beautiful mouth, just enough to dimple her left cheek, did Daniel dare draw breath again.
“Very well, Fairfield,” said Sukie.
~
Daniel finished out the remainder of the work-day with his head in a whirl. He gave thanks that the moving of figures from one column to another didn’t require him to be particularly mindful. Still, his nerves increased as the sun crept ever closer to the western horizon, and when the clock struck the closing hour at last, he felt a curious mixture of nervous relief. He had to force himself to walk rather than run home. The sight of his cottage, its front windows shining a merry glow of candle-flame out into the street, proved a balm for his heart. He passed through the garden gate, up the flagstone path, and lifted the familiar latch of the door to the unfamiliar sound of gentlemen’s voices within.
Sukie and he had never entertained guests before in their humble home. Daniel had a dim idea of how the thing ought to be done. He’d never attended a dinner party in his life, being too young to accompany his parents before they died, and life in Mrs Bailiwick’s Academy being as much or more sequestered than any cloistered abbey. Still, in the months leading up to his escape, he had acquired second-hand copies of etiquette guides—one for gentlemen and one for ladies—which offered some hints on how to conduct himself and how the thing itself ought to be conducted. However, some time had passed since last he read those particular pages, and he hadn’t the opportunity to review them in the hours between his invitation and the dinner itself,the books in question stuck at home whilst he remained stuck in office.
Still, as he opened the door into his own warm and familiar front hall, his surroundings suffused him with renewed confidence. He tossed his hat and overcoat lightly onto their hooks and proceeded with a surer step into his wife’s parlour.
The joyful chime of Sukie’s laughter greeted him as he stepped over the threshold. She sat in her chair, the armless twin of Daniel’s own, by the fire. Butcher and Lofthouse occupied the sofa opposite, side by side and rather closer to each other than the spacious furniture required. Both bore smiles to match Sukie’s, though Lofthouse’s changed to a mildly startled aspect as he turned to behold Daniel in the doorway.
“Mr Durst,” Sukie said, raising her hand so he might clasp it. “Mr Butcher was just telling me of the goats kept on his estate and what scrapes they find themselves in. Dinner is ready,” she added. “All covered and waiting.”
“Not long, I hope?” said Daniel.
