The next morning, Pip was acutely aware that a shift had taken place in the house. He could not be sure if it was merely a reflection of his own shifting perspective or if everyone else had experienced a change as well. When he arrived in the breakfast room, there was less shyness and awkwardness than there had been on previous mornings.
At the shop, Gerry showed him how to run the till as promised. Pip was nervous to be in charge of the money and he was greatly surprised that she would trust him with such a thing. But he felt comforted having her standing at his elbow the whole time. By the end of the day, he realized she had gradually worked her way across the store.
When she flipped the sign on the door, she congratulated him on a job well done.
“It was very…kind of you to let me work the till, Gerry,” he said. “But I hope you know you do not need to. I’m frankly surprised that you trust me with such a responsibility.”
She blinked at him. “Why?”
He stared. “I was a thief for all my life.”
“Yes, but that was pickpocketing, wasn’t it?”
He nodded.
“You never worked at shops and stole the money?”
He shook his head.
“And,” she continued, walking to the back room, “as I understand it, you worked as a thief because it was the only option you had available.”
He sighed and followed her. “I suppose that is true, in a way. I have a difficult time telling myself that, though. Nelly made options for herself…she even tried to persuade me to go with her. Did she tell you that?”
“She did, yes. But the first time, as I understand it, was years ago. You were both quite young.”
“She was younger than I,” he said.
“You were frightened, Pip. Leaving the safety of your employer was a very bold move on Nell’s part. You cannot blame yourself for not taking it too.”
He let out a long breath. He fetched the broom but paused at the curtain to the shop. “The fact is,” he said, twiddling the broom in his hand. “I did try. I never did tell Nelly. But…”
“What happened?”
He shrugged. “I was told it wasn’t an option.”
“Is that what Nell was told too?”
He shook his head. “She was different.” He paused. “I never told anyone. I was always ashamed, you see. I had been too cowardly to accept the opportunity the first time and then it took getting arrested to really be given another opportunity. At any rate,” he said, straightening, “I thought I should tell someone about it, at last. I found myself…talking more yesterday and it helped far more than I thought possible.”
Gerry gave him a bright smile. “I’m so glad you’ve found you can talk to me, Pip.”
He turned to go to the front of the shop.
“And for what it is worth,” she said, “I do not think you are a coward. Quite the opposite, actually.”
When he arrived at home, Charles pulled him aside. “Bertie made this,” he said, holding up a small bottle filled with light purple liquid. “Take it before you go to bed. A capful should be sufficient. Let me know when you need more.”
Pip accepted the bottle. That night, he slept and didn’t dream.
The next evening, he went back to practicing his letters after dinner, picking up the pen for the first time since the dreadful ink splotch. He was unsurprised when the dukex came in. He put away the pen, prepared to be told to go to bed.
But they held up their hand and said, “It’s early yet, poppet. I want to see how you are doing. Do you mind?”
That did surprise him, but he shook his head and allowed himself to be led to the sofa.
“How are you getting on, child?”
“With the lessons?”
“We can start with those, if you’d like.”
Pip was taken aback. “Did you mean something else, Your Grace?”
“Not necessarily,” they said with a small smile. “But I suspect the lessons are not wholly separate from everything else that is troubling you. It’s as good a place to start as any.”
Pip shrugged. “I wish I could learn it all faster. I feel as though I am letting everyone down with my slow progress.”
“There is no deadline to learning, child, no race or competition.”
Pip didn’t feel comfortable admitting that he did seem to be in a race, albeit a losing one, every time he compared his own progress to Nell’s. So instead he said, “Miss Hartford told me it would be a great help to her if I knew how to read and write. I feel as though I am not being as helpful as I’d like to be.”
“She told me that you started learning how to run the till.”
He nodded.
“It does not sound to me as if you are a burden to her. You are eager to learn and eager to help. I assure you she is not feeling impatient with you.”
“I think that has more to do with her being kind, Your Grace.”
“Does it matter?”
Pip was struck by the question and was silent for a long moment as he puzzled through it. Finally, he said, “I suppose I’ve learned to be wary of kindness, Your Grace. I prefer to earn things than be given them outright.”
“An understandable sentiment, given your history.”
Pip felt his face flush. “Oh. You know about that too?”
“A little. Charles warned all of us off of physical contact, for fear of distressing you.”
Pip ran a hand through his hair. “It was kind of him, but I rather wish…he hadn’t needed to. I mean, it is lowering that you all know everything.”
“I don’t know everything. Charles told us that you had been living with a person who was unkind to you and due to him, you might not like being touched. Bertram asked me separately to keep an eye on you and ensure you were given space. And I have drawn some of my own conclusions from your behavior and the way you speak of yourself.”
Pip glanced up at them. “Oh.” He paused. “May I ask what your conclusions were?”
The dukex smiled and leaned back on the sofa. “When I was younger, I married a person who seemed very kind. He told me he loved me, and I believed it. I was…very naive. He was cruel, really. But he was clever too, and never showed his cruelty to others. So when I confided in friends and family, they dismissed my concerns. They scolded me for speaking ill of so good a man.” They shrugged. “I began to doubt myself. Before long, I no longer trusted my own judgment about anything. In the end, I was fortunate. He died five years into our marriage, when Bertram was little more than an infant. But I had spent so long not trusting myself that I could no longer trust my own grief or my own happiness. It was years before I had the courage to be happy again.”
They smiled and reached up to rub their thumb lightly on Pip’s cheek. “You are so young. I can only imagine how young you must have been when you met him. I am sure the man you are now would make very different decisions than the ones you made years ago. You do not need to give penance for the wrongs other people did to you. You are allowed to be happy.”
Pip was not exactly surprised to be crying, but he was mildly annoyed that he could now add the dukex to the ever-growing list of people who had seen him cry.
The dukex gently pulled Pip’s handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his face. “You are allowed to cry too, you know. There is no shame in it.”
“I feel as though everyone has seen me cry at this point.”
“I used to hate crying in front of others. It is difficult to be vulnerable when you’ve spent years shielding yourself from your own unhappiness.”
Fresh tears fell at this validation of his own unspoken thoughts. The dukex wiped those as well. It made Pip feel like a small child and he shivered a little at the realization; he had been thoroughly miserable when he was younger.
The dukex tucked the handkerchief back in Pip’s pocket. “Answer me truthfully, child. Do you think less of me for my own mistakes?”
“Of course not,” he said without hesitation.
“Even with my wealth, my property, my title, and my large family—even with all of those privileges, I still made an error in judgment that took me years to heal from. If I am permitted to make such a mistake, can you not do the same for yourself? You had far less than I did: fewer resources, fewer friends. You did what you needed to do to survive.” They cupped his chin gently. “I do not think less of you for your mistakes. Forgive yourself, poppet. Give yourself permission to be happy.”
Pip pulled his handkerchief back out and wiped his eyes. “I’m not even sure I know how, to be honest.”
“Like most things in life, it can be learned,” they said with a warm smile.
“May I ask…” Pip hesitated.
“You can ask me anything you like.”
“How did you learn to be happy again?”
Their smile broadened and they considered the question. “It was a gradual process. I think what helped the most was when Bertram’s mother asked me to help her manage the estate when her husband died. I moved in with them and became a part of their family. It was an extraordinary experience.” They chuckled. “To put it more simply, I let people back in and trusted myself to love again.”
Pip took a deep breath. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
They held out their arms and said, “If it will help.”
Pip folded himself forward and the dukex wrapped their arms firmly around him. They cupped the back of his head, startling him at first, but when they did not move to stroke through his hair, he relaxed. He realized as he buried his face in their shoulder, that the dukex’s gentle, parental spirit had been more comforting than he expected.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he said quietly, “I never knew my parents.”
The dukex rubbed his back gently. “I suspected as much. You are not lacking for friendship here, you know. I can tell you with certainty that Bertram is anxious to see you happy, as is Charles, and the Hartfords. If you were to consider us your family, poppet, I know we’d all be pleased as anything.” They took a breath. “Do you know, I got to see Charles and Bertram grow up? I had a hand in raising them. I love them both like they are my own. The little Hartfords come from a decent-sized family, but I can’t deny I’ve enjoyed taking them both under my wing. I know they don’t need me, but I like to think I’ve helped them in my way.”
Pip did not know where the dukex was going with the monologue, but he was enjoying the sensation of being held with no expectations in return, so he sat silently and listened.
“I love taking care of young people, giving them what they need to flourish. I would be delighted to bestow the same to you, if you wish it.” Before Pip could respond, they continued. “And that is an offer without demands or debts, poppet. You needn’t answer now, but think about it. All right?”
Pip took a shaky breath and nodded. The dukex shifted a little, and Pip felt them press a soft kiss to his head.
After a long moment, Pip pulled back. He rubbed his eyes. “I should probably go up to bed.”
“Probably for the best, child. It’s been a rather exhausting week for you, I think.” They tucked a hand under Pip’s elbow and walked him up to his room.
After he was in bed, Pip lay awake, thinking about the dukex’s offer. He wanted rather desperately to accept it, and, as the dukex had advised, let them all in. He was reasonably sure none of them would hurt him as Jack had done. While he kept circling back to the argument that Jack had once seemed kind too, it seemed unlikely that all of the people he now knew were similarly duplicitous. He thought too of what the dukex had said about how young he’d been when he’d met Jack and how he would make different decisions now. Perhaps, with such experiences as he had, he had better judgment than he realized.
He took a capful of the purple liquid and lay back against the pillows, allowing himself to imagine, just briefly, what it might be like if he trusted his new friends with his heart.
As the weeks passed, Pip took over the till more and more regularly. Gerry started spending more time with customers, then coming back to check on him. Her trust frightened him, but he felt a determination to deserve it. So he worked diligently and the blisters on his hands turned to callouses.
After dinner, the reading lessons continued, and Pip slowly started reading the texts Miss Hartford presented him. The magic lessons did not go as smoothly. Pip felt sluggish and foolish in the face of all the names and theories and facts. When she started bringing calculations into the mix, he got so confused he wanted to cry.
Miss Hartford gave no indication that she minded his slow progress. She was patient and repeated everything as much as he asked, but he still felt like he was retaining nothing about magic. He suspected Lord Finlington had been mistaken in his assessment of Pip’s talents.
One evening, the viscount himself interrupted their lessons. Miss Hartford had been showing him a diagram illustrating Pechard’s Theory of Equitable Mass and explaining it for what felt like the hundredth time. Pip was staring at the diagram, leaning his head on his hands and gripping his hair tightly as if it might help his brain absorb the information better. When he heard the knock on the door, Pip didn’t even look up, still puzzling over the diagram.
“Good evening, m’dears. How are the magic lessons coming along?” Lord Finlington said as he entered the library. Pip jumped at the viscount’s voice. Lord Finlington strolled into the room, wearing a beautiful grey suit that seemed to Pip the same shade as the gentleman’s eyes, and carrying his walking stick.
“We’re muddling through, Bertie,” Miss Hartford said. “I’ve never taught anyone else magic before. I don’t know that I’m doing a good job of explaining the theories.”
Pip felt himself flush at her taking all of the blame. He wanted to assure her that it was all his fault, but he was too uncomfortable to do so in front of the viscount. His cowardice made him feel even worse.
Lord Finlington did not seem to notice Pip’s discomfort. He frowned slightly and came to stand next to Pip’s chair, leaning over his shoulder to look at the diagram. “Hm,” he said. “I’ve often found Pechard overblown in his own explanations of theories. He does so relish making everything complicated.”
“I know,” Miss Hartford said, tilting her head to look at the diagram. “But magic always comes more easily to me when I know the theory behind it first. And it’s how you taught Nell, I thought.”
“Yes, it is.” The viscount tapped his walking stick on the carpeted floor absently. “I wonder,” he said at last, “if our Pip might do better with a more practical approach.”
Pip tried to ignore the warmth that burst in his chest at the gentleman’s use of the word “our.”
Miss Hartford frowned. “You mean I shouldn’t teach him theory?”
“I mean...you might reconsider teaching him theory first.” He pulled up a chair and sat down at the table with them. “If you don’t mind my saying, Pip dear, I’m under the impression that you are a person who learns by doing, if you take my meaning.”
Pip didn’t and his confusion must have shown because the viscount continued. “Of course, darling, I don’t mean to suggest you aren’t terribly clever. After all, you did that travel spell with aplomb.”
Miss Hartford drummed her fingers on the table. “You’re right, Bertie. Do you know, I’ve been wondering about that. How did you teach Pip the travel spell?”
The viscount shrugged. “I performed it for him once and then showed him what to do the second time. If there had been an opportunity to perform it again, I would have given him less direction the next time.”
“And that’s a proper way to teach him? Pip’s my first student, you know, and I’d hate to be a backwards teacher.”
Lord Finlington chuckled. “Gerry, darling, positively everything about you is unconventional. Why should your teaching style be any different?”
Miss Hartford threw back her head and laughed. “What a marvelous thing to say, Bertie! How I love when you come to visit.”
“I do try, my sweet. I do try.”