Never a Road Without a Turning (8 page)

Pip stared at his threadbare stockings and kept his face blank while she prattled on. He hadn’t expected anything less from the woman, and he was too happy to let her ruin it for him. A quick glance at Mr. Applethwaite showed him that the man was definitely more pleased with the turn of events than his wife. The old sod grinned toothlessly at him and raised his bottle in salute before downing a swig. The bastard was probably ecstatic that he wouldn’t have to tend to the master after dinner on the nights Pip was sent for. And now that he’d been given the master’s permission to enter the rest of the house, Pip had a feeling he’d be called on to take over more of Mr. Applethwaite’s duties there whenever the man became
unwell
again. But hopefully the benefits would make up for an extra work. At least he’d be warm and dry.

S
UPPER
THAT
night dragged on interminably now that Pip had something to look forward to. Mrs. Applethwaite wouldn’t let him leave the table until she was certain the master had had plenty of time to enjoy his own meal, and Pip was positively bouncing in his chair by the time she excused him. The master hadn’t actually said when he should arrive or if he should wait until he was sent for. “After he finished his duties” was not very specific.

Before he went to the library, Pip returned to his bedchamber and changed clothes quickly, putting on his best shirt, waistcoat, and jacket after giving himself a good wash. He even cleaned his boots of every speck of mud and muck so he wouldn’t have to go to the major in his stockings again. Mrs. Applethwaite hadn’t said anything about how he should dress, probably because she disapproved of the whole arrangement altogether and wanted him to fail, so Pip just did what he felt he should. He wanted to look his best.

Lamplight spilled onto the rich red hall carpet from the open library door as Pip passed through the doorway into the main part of the house. He took a few nervous steps toward it but stopped in front of the looking glass mounted on the wall, straightening his waistcoat and combing his fingers nervously through his hair. He was a vain thing, he knew. The major probably wouldn’t even notice the effort he’d gone to, but Pip did it anyway. Perhaps the street wretch in him was still anxious to show his betters that he wasn’t dirt beneath their feet. Pip lifted his chin proudly and took the last few steps to the opening.

When he entered the room, the major was sitting in the same place he’d been earlier, with his leg propped on the stool, his head tipped back against the chair, and his eyes closed. In the light from the lamps, the lines on his forehead and around his eyes and mouth were more pronounced than they’d been that afternoon and a surge of pity made Pip stop just inside the door, waiting quietly to be acknowledged, in case the man was asleep.

“Don’t hover, Phillip. Come in and sit down,” the major said tiredly, without opening his eyes.

A sweep of his hand indicated the chair directly across from him, and Pip gingerly sat on the cushioned surface after picking up the book that rested there.

“
Melmoth the Wanderer
,” Pip read the title aloud, and the major nodded.

“Have you read it?”

“No, sir.”

“Then I hope this will prove to be a treat for the both of us. You may begin when you’re ready.” The major picked up his glass from the small table next to him, took a drink of his whisky, and set it down again, still without opening his eyes.

Pip began to read quietly at first, uncertain what was expected of him. But soon he was so engrossed in the tale he nearly forgot he had an audience. So much happened in such a short span of pages that Pip was literally on the edge of his seat, anxious to learn what came next. He didn’t realize how long he’d read until his throat began to protest his treatment of it. When he looked up in embarrassment at having become so carried away, he found the major staring at him intently, and he felt his cheeks grow hot.

A hint of amused curiosity appeared in the arch of the major’s brows and the slight curve of his lips when he finally broke the silence. “Where did you learn to speak like that?”

Pip looked at the major in confusion for a moment until he realized his mistake. He’d been so immersed in his reading that he’d slipped into the proper English Vicar Halford had drummed into his nob from the first day he started schooling. When he read, Vicar Halford’s carefully controlled voice was what he heard in his head, and so he’d read the words aloud the same way.

Pip cleared his throat nervously. “The man who taught me t’ read, sir. Vicar ’alford.”

The major’s eyebrow quirked higher at Pip’s attempt to return to a northern accent, and he seemed even more amused. “You are certainly full of surprises, young Phillip. I wonder how you’ll surprise me next.”

Pip had the uncomfortable feeling the major was having a laugh at his expense, even if he didn’t know what the joke was, and it got his back up. He shrugged sullenly and said a bit defensively, “I can ape me betters, sir, but I know me place.”

The amusement in his pale eyes faded. He turned his face to the fire and waved a hand dismissively. “When we are here, you may speak however you are most comfortable, Phillip. I won’t make a fuss either way. I was only curious.”

Mollified, Phillip studied his master’s profile for a few moments, trying to discern if he was sincere. But when the major shifted in his chair and clenched his jaw in what had to be pain, Pip decided it didn’t really matter. He’d take the man at his word. And if that meant he ended up out on his arse for getting above himself, well, at least he’d have the satisfaction of having done his best to carry with him on his journey back to Penrith.

Pip read for another hour while the major remained silent and still across from him. Pip was almost certain he had fallen asleep, but when he finally reached a stopping point, the major surprised him by saying, “Thank you, Phillip. That was well read.”

Pip preened under the compliment, and he was almost disappointed when the major dismissed him for the night. But the hour was late, and Mrs. Applethwaite would be banging on his door very early the next day, so he simply said, “Good night, sir,” and rose to leave.

“Good night, Phillip.”

Pip was halfway to the kitchen when it occurred to him that he should have offered to bank the fire and put out the lamps. He turned back and poked his head through the door. The major had his head thrown back against the chair, his eyes tightly closed, and his face contorted in a grimace of pain as he rubbed the top of his damaged thigh. Pip hesitated, thinking he shouldn’t intrude, but he also didn’t want Mrs. Applethwaite angry with him for not seeing to his duties, so he knocked quietly.

“Excuse me, sir. Should I see to the fire and the lamps afore I leave?”

The major dropped his hand from his thigh immediately and sat up straighter in his chair. “No need. I will see to it.”

Pip continued to hesitate. He didn’t want to insult the man, but Pip would obviously have an easier time of it than the major would. And it was his job after all, wasn’t it?

For this reason, Pip had never tried for a position inside a house, keeping to the heavy work despite the fact that he had a better education than many a man in service. He loved the outdoors, and he didn’t relish spending his days inside. But mostly the gentry were such a touchy lot he never knew when they’d take offense.

“Good night, Phillip,” the major said again, more firmly, and Pip ducked his head and retreated without another word. He didn’t want their sessions to end after they’d only just begun.

T
HE
MAJOR
sent for him three more times that week, all much like the first. Pip read from a volume the major selected and the man remained a quiet audience, only interrupting if Pip seemed to be struggling with a word or phrase he was unfamiliar with. The major encouraged no intimacies and shared no stories of his own, so Pip’s curiosity remained unsatisfied. But when Pip arrived on the third night, he was surprised to find a pair of finely embroidered velvet house slippers waiting for him on his chair, in addition to the novel they’d begun the night before.

“Sir?” Pip lifted the slippers carefully and turned to the man with his eyebrows raised.

“I have no need of them, and I thought you might be more comfortable in those than your boots,” the major said gruffly. “I assume Mrs. Applethwaite would also prefer them for the sake of her carpets.”

Pip ran the tip of his finger over the intricately patterned embroidery, his rough skin catching on the fine threads. They were beautiful, a rich burgundy velvet, the embroidery exotic in design and the colors vibrant. They must have cost a pretty piece. “Thank you, sir,” he said, his voice catching a little at the end.

The major nodded tersely and turned his face to the fire. “You may begin when you’re ready,” he said.

Obviously he had said all he wished to on the matter, and Pip was no fool. He pushed the strange surge of emotion away and simply smiled happily to himself as he set the slippers aside, picked up the book, and took up where he’d left off.

He received more gifts over the course of the following weeks—a pair of warm mittens and a thick knitted scarf, a pencil box and paper for writing his weekly letters to Maud, a lap blanket for him to keep warm under while he read. They were all delivered in the same manner, waiting for him in his chair. And the major dismissed any attempts at gratitude with the same gruffness he had shown from the start. But out of the corner of his eye, Pip caught the man smiling at him every now and again, and despite the carefully maintained distance between them, Pip began to feel a certain intimacy form as they shared their evenings in front of the library fire.

He never spoke of it aloud to anyone, but Pip felt as if he was coming to know the major little by little, despite the pains his master took to the contrary. He had a generous nature he didn’t want the world to know about, but also a wry wit that would reveal itself only rarely in the slight curve of his lips or a small crinkling at the corner of his eyes when Pip read something humorous. And he was incredibly clever as well. Pip sometimes got the impression his master didn’t actually need Pip to read many of the pages aloud, because he already had them memorized.

That realization, when it struck, led Pip to wonder a bit why the major would bother having him there at all. If he were simply lonely, plenty of people in the village would have made more proper company for a gentleman, and much more interesting conversation than Pip could provide. But wonder though he might, Pip wasn’t fool enough to call attention to it, not when he was enjoying himself so much and appeared to actually be doing his master some good—as evidenced by the fact that, during those weeks, the major didn’t drink to excess even once.

Pip took a certain amount of pride in that. He liked to think his care and attention had lifted the man’s spirits and aided him in some way. The major seemed to brood less and less as time went on, and every so often, he even began short conversations with Pip instead of simply dismissing him when he was done reading for the night. They only discussed the text, of course, nothing of a personal nature. But Pip was encouraged and flattered by it just the same.

By the end of the third week, Pip was feeling particularly proud of himself. Not only had the major been out for his walk every day that week but Pip had also spotted him going into the barn at least twice during that time. The major never went when Pip was working there, but he stayed for quite some time on both occasions. Rather than dreading the prospect of having his favorite pastime taken away, Pip began to hope for a time when he could share his afternoons with his master as well, helping him achieve whatever it was that took him out there.

Pip was in fact feeling so pleased with himself, he couldn’t help the smug grin that split his face when the bell rang for him that night, nor the swagger in his step as he entered the library.

“Good evening, sir,” he said cheerily after the major bid him enter.