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been pleased with his living arrangements, but unhappy with his employment. He was not a man prone to marriage, and despite his vocation, truly abhorred young children. He preferred older students who could engage in discourse and be taught something of use beyond manners, enunciation, letters, and basic arithmetic. Thus he had despised teaching in the local school, where any child reaching adolescence was plucked away and sent into the fields or a trade.
I had visited him often after his dismissal, and seen him a mere month before I left. Still, unlike my uncle’s housekeeper, Rucker’s sister did not recognize me when I arrived; not even my name. Despite the lack of knowledge of my person, she seemed keenly interested in the fact that I was a gentleman coming to call, and immediately asked if my visit was in regard to some form of employment. As I waited for the maid to fetch him, I wondered how long Rucker had been without a position.
At the sight of me, tears filled his eyes; and he embraced me as heartily as my uncle, though he was half the other man’s size. I had forgotten how diminutive he was, and I realized I might have gained a few inches in height after my departure after all. When he pulled away, he looked me up and down again and said quietly, “Lord Marsdale, look at you, you are a man now. Truly. I am overwhelmed. I wondered if…”
A throat was cleared, and we turned to his sister, still standing in the doorway to the parlor. Rucker explained that I, the Viscount of Marsdale, was the Earl of Dorshire’s son. She immediately ordered the maid to bring refreshments. Rucker pointedly chose that we should take our tea in his rooms. The sister seemed dismayed by this; but I was assuredly relieved, as I did not wish to converse with her.
I followed him up the stairs, to a small garret room with a window overlooking the garden – not that one could get close to the window, with the great piles of books on the table before it. Every flat surface that could be used to support paper was overflowing with some form of it. One can forget how books smell until one is surrounded by them in a stuffy space. On the whole, it appeared exactly as his quarters had in my father’s house, only smaller.
He cleared a seat on a chair for me, and I sat.
“I was wondering when and if I would ever see you again,” he said as he perched on the corner of the trunk at the foot of the bed, within an arm’s length of me. The room was so small I thought we would have had more space if we both sat on the bed. Though it was little more than a cot, it took up much of the floor.
“You received my letters?” I asked. “I believe I wrote six.”
“With great delight. I have them still. I am sorry I did not respond with more than two; however, I knew not what to say, really. You were the one seeing things, and it was not as if we corresponded regularly enough to engage in discourse.”
“True. I am the one who should apologize, for both the infrequency of my writing and its relative brevity. Often months would pass, and I would find myself in another season quite to my surprise. And so many things occurred that I did not know where to begin; and I would have had to write books to describe them. And, also, much of what I was engaged in was best not written down in the event my correspondence was apprehended.”
“Do you have time to talk now, or…”
I waved him off. “For the time being, I am at your disposal, good sir.
And I have much I wish to tell you. I have no place I must be. My uncle knows where I am, and will send someone if a matter arises that…” I sighed. “Other than my uncle, I have not seen my family yet, and am not sure of their reception.” I shrugged. “I can take a room at the inn. We are limited only by your own duties.”
He smiled. “Which are none and nothing except for the tasks I choose to set upon myself, which currently involve writing and corresponding with the few friends I have.” He
I had visited him often after his dismissal, and seen him a mere month before I left. Still, unlike my uncle’s housekeeper, Rucker’s sister did not recognize me when I arrived; not even my name. Despite the lack of knowledge of my person, she seemed keenly interested in the fact that I was a gentleman coming to call, and immediately asked if my visit was in regard to some form of employment. As I waited for the maid to fetch him, I wondered how long Rucker had been without a position.
At the sight of me, tears filled his eyes; and he embraced me as heartily as my uncle, though he was half the other man’s size. I had forgotten how diminutive he was, and I realized I might have gained a few inches in height after my departure after all. When he pulled away, he looked me up and down again and said quietly, “Lord Marsdale, look at you, you are a man now. Truly. I am overwhelmed. I wondered if…”
A throat was cleared, and we turned to his sister, still standing in the doorway to the parlor. Rucker explained that I, the Viscount of Marsdale, was the Earl of Dorshire’s son. She immediately ordered the maid to bring refreshments. Rucker pointedly chose that we should take our tea in his rooms. The sister seemed dismayed by this; but I was assuredly relieved, as I did not wish to converse with her.
I followed him up the stairs, to a small garret room with a window overlooking the garden – not that one could get close to the window, with the great piles of books on the table before it. Every flat surface that could be used to support paper was overflowing with some form of it. One can forget how books smell until one is surrounded by them in a stuffy space. On the whole, it appeared exactly as his quarters had in my father’s house, only smaller.
He cleared a seat on a chair for me, and I sat.
“I was wondering when and if I would ever see you again,” he said as he perched on the corner of the trunk at the foot of the bed, within an arm’s length of me. The room was so small I thought we would have had more space if we both sat on the bed. Though it was little more than a cot, it took up much of the floor.
“You received my letters?” I asked. “I believe I wrote six.”
“With great delight. I have them still. I am sorry I did not respond with more than two; however, I knew not what to say, really. You were the one seeing things, and it was not as if we corresponded regularly enough to engage in discourse.”
“True. I am the one who should apologize, for both the infrequency of my writing and its relative brevity. Often months would pass, and I would find myself in another season quite to my surprise. And so many things occurred that I did not know where to begin; and I would have had to write books to describe them. And, also, much of what I was engaged in was best not written down in the event my correspondence was apprehended.”
“Do you have time to talk now, or…”
I waved him off. “For the time being, I am at your disposal, good sir.
And I have much I wish to tell you. I have no place I must be. My uncle knows where I am, and will send someone if a matter arises that…” I sighed. “Other than my uncle, I have not seen my family yet, and am not sure of their reception.” I shrugged. “I can take a room at the inn. We are limited only by your own duties.”
He smiled. “Which are none and nothing except for the tasks I choose to set upon myself, which currently involve writing and corresponding with the few friends I have.” He
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