The days went by with Pip helping out in the shop more and more. He discovered accidentally that when he flashed the same smile with customers as he had with marks that the customers would sometimes buy more spells, with the hopes of another smile. Pip always accommodated. It was a strange feeling, to discover he could apply some of the same skills to his new line of work.
He was unsurprised to find that Gerry had noticed. She brought it up after a particularly busy day. She was hanging spell bags on the hooks while Pip swept the floor.
“Miss Allen bought quite a few spells today,” she remarked.
Pip smiled to himself but did not reply.
“Do you realize that many people in town have started to buy spells for the sole purpose of earning one of your lovely smiles?”
He continued sweeping. He didn’t think it was a question that required an answer.
“I believe there is a great deal of conjecture in whether you are of the masculine or feminine persuasion,” she continued, unperturbed by his silence. “People love a man of mystery, you know. Unless I’m much mistaken, Pip dear, you are becoming quite a popular figure in town.”
“Oh, I’m sure it isn’t as serious as all that,” he said at last.
She laughed. “I daresay it is. Do you know that the Berril siblings had a bet going as to which one of them you’d notice first?”
He looked up at that. “Who won?”
She snorted in a very unladylike manner. “You tell me.”
He grinned and returned to his sweeping.
“I think tomorrow I might teach you how to run the till, if you have a mind to it.”
The prospect of that much responsibility and trust startled him. But he said, “I have a mind to learn anything you care to teach me.”
“Then again,” she said, “we were just saying how we’re teaching you too much all at once. Perhaps I should—it’s just that you are learning it all so quickly, you know.”
“Am I?”
She smiled. “Of course. You’ve picked up everything at the store remarkably fast, especially for someone with no background in trade or magic. It’s very impressive. I keep forgetting how much you’re learning.”
“Really?” He couldn’t help the pride her words gave him. He rather wished Lord Finlington had been there to hear them. He twiddled the broom in his hands. “That is nice to know.”
“You don’t think you’re doing well?”
He shrugged. “Not particularly. I keep wishing I could learn it all faster.”
She gave a thoughtful sort of hum and then returned to arranging spells, and he got back to sweeping. But he could feel her occasional glances in his direction.
The next day, she surprised him at breakfast by telling him they were taking the day off.
“It occurred to me,” she said. “That most shops are not open every single day in the village. So why should we have to be? Besides, it is Sunday,” she said. “I am not religious by nature, unless my parents are around, but many people are. So I think we should take advantage of the opportunity to not open the shop.”
“Are you religious, Pip?” Charles asked conversationally. “The church is quite lovely. We’d be happy to take you there. The vicar is a charming man and I know he’d love to meet you. And there’s a synagogue on the other side of the village, and a mosque in the next county. I’d be happy to provide you with transportation, and even company if you wish to go. Good heavens, you’ve been here for weeks now and none of us thought to ask you.”
Pip shook his head. “No, s—Charles. I’m not religious either. I’ve never even been to a church, or a synagogue, or a mosque. I think I might practice a bit in the library some more.”
“But you are meant to relax today,” Miss Hartford said. “Not that I wish to discourage you from doing anything that pleased you, Pip. But you know you needn’t practice every day.”
“I still have a great deal left to learn,” he said, feeling himself blush.
“Don’t we all,” Charles intoned.
“I have it,” Miss Hartford said, clapping her hands. “Why don’t we call on Bertie for tea? You haven’t seen Bertie’s house yet. Oh, it’s ever so grand. That will be a nice way to avoid doing any work.”
Pip felt a little embarrassed by Miss Hartford’s solicitousness. “It is no matter,” he said. “I’m accustomed to working every day. There were times in London where I even worked—” He felt his face grow hot as he caught himself from casually referring to his own shameful past. “I, er…I did not mean to—”
Charles patted his arm. “Pip, dear. I hope you know by now that you can safely tell us anything.”
“Charles,” Mr. Hartford said in a low voice.
Charles glanced at Mr. Hartford and then back at Pip. “Do forgive me, Pip. You are under no obligation to talk of anything you do not wish to. I did not mean to pry.”
Pip murmured that it was nothing and then finished his breakfast as quickly as he could. Despite Miss Hartford’s recommendations to the contrary, he retreated to the library. But he felt too restless to sit down. Instead, he paced the length of the library with his hands interlocked behind his neck. Why could he not simply be happy? He was surrounded by good, kind people who were doing everything they could to help him. He had delicious food, a comfortable bed, and no one treated him like a piece of property. It was, in a word, a dream. But every time he told himself to stop being ridiculous and just be happy about it, a voice in his head would remind him that he didn’t deserve any of it.
His pacing quickened and it was starting to make him feel frantic when there was a soft knock on the door and Mr. Hartford leaned into the room.
“Ah, Mr. Standish. I was hoping I might find you here. I wondered if you might care for a stroll through the garden. It occurred to me that none of us have shown you that part of the estate.”
Pip opened his mouth to tell him he appreciated the offer but was not in the mood to talk, but Mr. Hartford continued. “I should add, of course, that I am not seeking to draw you out or anything. I am not afraid of a little companionable silence. But the gardens are quite lovely and the weather is fine. If you have a mind to it, of course,” he added hastily.
Pip hesitated and then nodded. “Thank you,” he said.
Following Mr. Hartford’s lead, he did not put on any of the usual articles of clothing requisite to a walk outside. “I’m sure it is the done thing,” Mr. Hartford said when he waved off the footman. “But I never bother when I’m staying close to the house.”
As promised, once they were outside, Mr. Hartford did not attempt to probe any conversation out of Pip. He shoved his hands into his pockets in a manner that Pip was fairly sure was not good for the clothes and led the way through the garden.
Pip allowed himself to be distracted by the sounds of birds, the smell of the grass, and the beauty of the garden. Born in a city, he was not used to seeing so many plants and flowers; his walks with Miss Hartford were always too purposeful for him to feel comfortable slowing down and looking about at leisure. But Mr. Hartford ambled casually down the path, pausing to look at or smell different flowers along the way, which gave Pip permission to do the same. The tightness in his chest loosened a bit as he allowed the sounds and smells of the garden to wash over him.
Pip kept expecting Mr. Hartford to spring a question on him or sit him down on a stone bench and prompt him to talk about his feelings. But, astonishingly, he never did. They walked through the garden and down to a lake and back; the gentleman never filled the silence with pointed questions or idle chatter.
It was blissfully restful.
When they circled back to the garden, they were greeted by Miss Hartford, who had donned her spencer and bonnet.
“There you are,” she said when they approached. “I’ve been looking everywhere. Charles said you might be out here. And I thought—oh, good heavens, Gavin. Did you really walk all this time without your hat? You’ll get a frightful burn. I shall have to make a tincture for you. I do wish—”
“Oh, do stop fussing, Gerry,” Mr. Hartford said. “We haven’t been gone all that long.”
“It’s been over an hour,” she said.
“I wanted a bit of fresh air,” he replied. “And Mr. Standish was kind enough to join me. Are you walking to Bertie’s now?”
“I thought to. Unless you’re too tired, Pip. In which case, we can certainly take the carriage.”
“Not at all,” he assured her. “I will be delighted to walk with you. Shall I get my things?”
She nodded and Mr. Hartford walked back up to the house with him. Once inside, Pip stopped the gentleman from going up the stairs with a hand on his arm.
“Thank you, Mr. Hartford,” Pip said. “I needed that more than I realized.”
The corner of Mr. Hartford’s lip twitched but his expression remained solemn. “Don’t think a thing of it, Mr. Standish,” he said. And then he strode up the stairs without further comment.
Lord Finlington’s house was even grander than Charles Kentworthy’s. It was a full floor taller and there were two wings framing the main part of the house, making it look three times wider than Charles’s house. Pip could see a manicured garden on one side of the house where it curved out of sight. They walked into the foyer over gleaming tiles. Pip glanced up to see painted frescoes across the ceiling. Everywhere there were huge, magnificent paintings or marble statues. Miss Hartford smiled at his evident awe as they were led into a library.
Pip was struck with a sudden gratitude for the library in his own new home. The viscount’s library was two stories, with a staircase that curved up to the second level. He felt small and foolish standing amidst so much knowledge. He was so distracted by looking around him that he didn’t see the viscount approaching.
“The most delightful of surprises, you darling things,” Lord Finlington said, walking up to them. “Pip, dear. So good to see you again.”
Pip bowed, feeling suddenly shy to be calling on the gentleman. Although he did notice that Lord Finlington looked remarkably well—not that he ever didn’t look well—but Pip thought the country air agreed with the viscount. Then he began to wonder if people thought the same thing about him.
“I thought Pip might like to see your house,” Miss Hartford said. “I’ve barely had the opportunity to see it myself.”
“What a charming notion,” the viscount replied. He led them out of the library and took them on a tour through the first floor. There was a huge ballroom, multiple parlors, and a dining room. Pip was completely turned around by the time they reached the other side of the house. He was already aware that the viscount was far above him in terms of rank and station, but the grandeur of his home put into stark relief the impossibility of Pip’s admiration of the gentleman.
“I think you’ll like the conservatory,” the viscount said as he opened a pair of glass French doors.
It was the strangest room Pip had ever seen. The walls were made out of windows. Plants lined the room, stacked up against the windows, hanging from the ceiling, and arranged in large pots down the center. Miss Hartford tucked her hand around Pip’s arm and led him to a small settee on one side of the room.
“This is lovely,” she said as they sat.
“Mm,” Lord Finlington said. “I quite like it. I’m only letting the house, of course, but I’ve rather fallen in love with the place. I shall be very sad when the time comes to quit it.”
The gentleman’s words made Pip feel a little hollow. He reached up and rubbed the tip of a large rubbery leaf between his fingers, hoping the others wouldn’t notice his disappointment. Was the viscount really planning to leave? Was he only staying in Tutting-on-Cress because of Pip? He couldn’t figure out why the idea bothered him so much. He hardly ever saw Lord Finlington, but he always felt vaguely comforted by the knowledge that the gentleman was nearby.
“Perhaps we should have tea in here?” the viscount said.
“Yes, please!” Miss Hartford said.
The viscount beamed and left the room briefly. Miss Hartford gave a satisfied sort of sigh. “I hope Bertie never goes back to London. He’s so lovely.”
Pip nodded in agreement.
Lord Finlington returned a few minutes later. “The tea has been sent for,” he said. “And this is for you, m’dear,” he added, handing a piece of paper to Pip. Pip took it, confused.
“It is from Nell,” the viscount explained. “I wrote to tell her that you were safely settled and her reply included a letter to you.”
Pip unfolded the paper and stared at the words he couldn’t yet read. He knew Nell had learned more than just magic from Lord Finlington, but to see such evidence of her knowledge was humbling.
Miss Hartford placed a hand on his arm. “Would you like me to read it to you?” she said in a soft voice.
He felt his face get hot with embarrassment, but he passed the letter over.
Dear Pip,
I was so relieved to learn that Bertie got you out of prison and that you are safe. Although I wish you weren’t living quite so far away. Jack told me you’d been arrested and Bertie was the first person I could think of who might be able to help. I’m so glad he did. I haven’t told Jack yet that you’re out. I wasn’t sure if he would be pleased knowing you were so far away. Bertie explained to me that you are not returning to London anytime soon and I’m not sure how to explain that to Jack. But I can, if you’d like me to. Do you have anything in particular you’d like for me to tell him? I’m sure he misses you as much as you miss him.
How are you getting on? Bertie said you are working for Gerry in her shop. If I didn’t have a job I loved here in town, I’d almost be jealous. Imagine you working in a spell shop! I’m sure neither of us could have expected that to happen. I assume you’re learning to do magic now and that you’re learning to read, since that’s how it was for me when I lived with Bertie. So I thought it would be nice to write to you and learn all about your new life in the country. I’m sure I would hate to live in the country. So I hope you’re enjoying it more than I would.
I’ve made several friends here at the theater. I think you met them before when you came to visit. They’re getting to be like family now, which is nice. I haven’t had anyone I ever considered family, other than you and Patience. So it is nice to finally be surrounded by people who make me feel at home. I hope you’re able to visit London soon and you can come see me.
Please give my regards to Gerry and Charles.
Nell
Miss Hartford folded the letter again and handed it back to him. Pip took it and slipped it into his pocket, avoiding the others’ gaze.
When the tea came, he took his cup and sat quietly to himself, grateful when Miss Hartford and Lord Finlington started discussing a spell Miss Hartford was designing.
He was torn between so many feelings. He was accustomed to missing Nell; it was an ache he had long learned to live with. But he was not in the habit of resenting her, and he did resent her for that letter. He was jealous that she could write so much when he hadn’t even learned to read, let alone write. He was frustrated by her surprise at him finding an honest job at last, even though he had been just as surprised as she was. He was angry with her for bringing up Jack and for suggesting that he missed him. He was filled with shame that the words had been read aloud. He felt too exposed with Miss Hartford knowing about Jack. And he didn’t want to think about what Lord Finlington thought of him, with the reminder of what Jack had once been to him. It seemed that no matter how far away he was from Jack now, he would never be able to escape that part of his past.
Finally, he was hurt that she was now surrounded by friends and was where she belonged. She no longer needed him. She probably never did. Pip digested the fact that while he had considered Nell his best friend for most of his life, he had not truly felt close to her since she first left Jack’s employ. She hadn’t been there when Jack took him on as a lover, and he did not know how to tell her what that experience had been like. He felt sure that if he did try to explain it to her—and he didn’t even know how he could since he very well couldn’t ask someone to write such things for him—she wouldn’t believe him. No one ever considered Jack’s treatment of him strange, even Nell. Well, there had been one person: Lino Bowles, an attractive and popular harlot. He had once offered Pip help in getting out of Jack’s clutches. But just as Pip had known following Nell to the viscount’s house to study magic with her would make things worse, he knew Lino’s help would only put them both in danger when Jack inevitably found him.
He dreaded the prospect of explaining how miserable he had been, only to have her inform him that he was terribly ungrateful. And here he was, living a comfortable and lavish lifestyle, and still terribly ungrateful. She would never understand how poorly he fit in his new life. It didn’t entirely surprise him, but he had hoped she might have struggled in the same ways he had. But he could see that she hadn’t struggled. She had fought for her education and fought for the opportunity to find her own place.
As Pip sat in the conservatory, dazed by the bright greenery, it occurred to him that Nell never had cause to believe she didn’t deserve everything about her new life. For that reason alone, she would never understand his own sense of isolation.
“We’re not the same, Nelly,” he whispered to himself.
“What was that, m’dear?” Lord Finlington said.
Pip looked up in alarm; he hadn’t meant for his companions to hear him. All he wanted to do in that moment was to crawl into his bed, but that was miles away now, and he didn’t know his way back. He said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was wondering if you could give me directions home? I believe I have a headache coming on.”
As he might have expected, they both fussed over him after that. Miss Hartford tutted about her brother’s bad influence in taking Pip on walks without appropriate headgear. A quarter of an hour later, he and Miss Hartford went home in the viscount’s carriage.
At home, Jennings closed the curtains in the bedroom and helped Pip undress so he could lie down for a nap. Pip lay in bed, feeling utterly sick of being so miserable all the time. Thankfully, no one seemed to expect him to come downstairs because Jennings brought him trays for lunch and dinner. He felt wretched for causing such a fuss, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to be around people either. He stayed huddled under the covers in the dark room, contemplated his many, many faults. When he finally slept, he was plagued by dreams filled with unpleasant memories.