“No, no, not in the least,” Ephraim replied.“I’m merely unaccustomed to fae speed.”He would have to beg off dining with Dr Hitchingham, but that would be easy enough, despite the weight upon his conscience.He hesitated.“This Mr Drude is… a long-standing friend of yours?”
Hull smiled.“We are very old friends, yes.”
“How old, precisely?”
A slight furrow appeared between Hull’s blue-black brows.He cast his eyes to the rafters.His tongue idly traced his doubled eye-teeth as he calculated.“Nigh-on five centuries, I should think.”
“Oh.”Ephraim had scarcely known Dr Hitchingham a tenth so long as that.“And… does he know about…?”
“Us?”Hull finished for him.At Ephraim’s nod, he looked a touch abashed.“I’ve told him about us, yes.”
Ephraim wondered what the fae thought of one of their own number taking a mortal lover.It happened often enough in ballads and fairy-stories—but always to youths and maidens, never an old hulk like himself.
“He’s rather eager to meet you,” Hull went on to Ephraim’s great astonishment.
Ephraim couldn’t imagine why.Still, “If he’s a friend of yours, then I’m eager to meet him as well.”
Hull appeared much relieved.
Ephraim dared to venture an impertinence.“Is he a huldrekall like yourself?”
“He is an incubus rather than a huldrekall,” Hull explained patiently.“A very gregarious fellow.He herds sheep in the summer months and spins wool all winter.”
When Ephraim had privately mused on what sort of trades the fae might hold, he had rather imagined more in the line of harvesting dew-drops or catching starlight.That a fae gentleman—anincubus, he corrected himself—should have any vocation so commonplace as shepherd had not entered into the realm of possibility.He supposed he ought to have known that the fae kept sheep, sheared wool, spun thread, and wove cloth.Hull wore woollen garments, after all.
“He’s quite tall,” Hull said, unprompted.At Ephraim’s bewildered glance, he added, “I don’t wish his appearance to startle you.And large though he may be, there is no one gentler in my acquaintance—present company excluded, of course.”
Ephraim blushed to hear it and demurred.
With Hull’s infirmity it fell to Ephraim to ready the office for their guest.Hull made some protestations at first, insisting that surely there was something he might do to assist, but Ephraim gently-yet-firmly informed him that the best thing he could do for all their sakes was rest up.After all, Ephraim had kept house all by himself for years before even Lofthouse had come along.He had not yet forgotten how to dust and sweep and delicately arrange matters of decoration, though his stiff joints might make him slower at it.
As for Dr Hitchingham, Ephraim told him he had an evening appointment with a distressed client.Dr Hitchingham perfectly understood the professional importance of keeping such matters strictly confidential and made no further enquiries.Thus a fraction of Ephraim’s nerves were eased, if not his conscience.
Housekeeping, both literal and figurative, kept Ephraim’s mind from speculation for most of the day.But as the soft light filtering down through the fogged dimmed toward evening, he found his thoughts returning to the same well-worn furrows of worry.It had been unnerving enough to introduce Hull to Dr Hitchingham when Hull was merely his new clerk and Dr Hitchingham his friend of fifty years.Drude and Hull’s friendship spanned not just decades, but centuries.What was the scarce year Hull had spent with Ephraim compared to that?It didn’t require a fortune-teller to predict the result if Drude should take a dislike to him.Ephraim had never wed, but he suspected it would’ve felt less imposing if he were trying to impress the family of his bride.He couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt so desperate to win someone’s approval.
Ephraim kept these disquieting thoughts to himself as he and Hull enjoyed a late tea in lieu of dinner.He resisted the urge to pester Hull with fruitless questions about his friend; he would find out soon enough, and he felt determined to make his nerves hold out until morning at the very least.
After tea, they passed the time withHousehold Words.Hull insisted on reading to Ephraim—which to Ephraim felt rather backward—on the excuse that his mind required the exercise after so many hours of indolence (a word to which Ephraim strongly objected, but Hull merely smiled at him) and furthermore expressed his wish to do something for Ephraim since Ephraim had been on his feet all day.Ephraim could hardly argue the point, so he acquiesced to the dulcet tones of his beloved Hull’s narration.
At quarter-past seven, the bell rang.
Ephraim didnotjolt out of his chair, but it was a very near thing.
Hull, far more measured, merely folded over the periodical and laid it aside.He smiled at Ephraim with eyes that glinted in eager anticipation.
Ephraim arose to go down and receive their guest.Before he could step away from the bed, however, Hull caught his hand.
“Hewilllike you,” Hull assured him in that low tone seemingly designed to send songbirds fluttering through Ephraim’s ribcage.“He’s been on tenterhooks to meet you for some time.”
Ephraim resolved to take this encouragement in the intended spirit and did not point out how that fact merely increased the probability of drastic disappointment when Drude finally encountered him in the flesh.
His nerves frayed further and further with every step he took down the stair.Crossing the office to reach the door sent his heart fluttering into his throat.He discreetly coughed it down again and took a steadying breath to forestall the trembling in his fingertips.
Only for his breath to catch again upon opening the door.
The gentleman on the other side filled the door-frame.The span of his shoulders exceeded the threshold, and he had to bow ever-so-slightly to make his eyes meet Ephraim’s gaze rather than the wood overhead.Those eyes—dark, fathomless, and brimming with a shy warmth—smiled at him.
Ephraim, meanwhile, blinked several times before his gaze could take in anything beyond the gentleman’s sheersize.Astonishing, yes, but beyond that a queer sort of thrill shivered up his spine and left his mind quite blank.In a dim and distant sort of way he supposed that he ought to have known that a gentleman must be very tall indeed for Hull, who stood just over six foot himself, to describe him as such.Unlike Hull, this gentleman was clean-shaven, and his raven-dark hair—worn long in a manner that hadn’t been fashionable since Ephraim was a lad but nonetheless drew his admiration—was drawn back into a queue.His aquiline nose, high cheekbones, and formidable jawline would make fine inspiration for a sculptor of the Florentine tradition (Lofthouse would’ve known the particular name Ephraim wished to recall).The tentative smile that graced the gentleman’s full lips belied his immense bulk and the evident strength behind it.
