“Oh, I… Yes,” he said, swallowing with some effort and reaching for the bread.
“Plum assignation, that,” Mr. Templeton-Rath said mildly. “You’re likely set for life.”
Jasper hesitated. “Perhaps. Such a large name is difficult for one to distinguish oneself within, however. I think I’d rather like to manage logistics rather than simple numbers and consignments, but that is unlikely if I stay with them.”
Mrs. and Mr. Templeton-Rath exchanged a glance.
“Is that so?” she said. “You must have heard that we are opening a new forwarding office here. Perhaps you might assist us in finding initial labor. We would be grateful to have someone familiar with the operations here in Brighton.”
“My Mr. Townsend has had to bat away offers from the other traders on the docks,” Libba told them with a little smile. “He denied Stockton, Holloway, and Lennox without so much as a second to think. If he agrees, you must count yourselves very lucky, indeed.”
“Oh, that isn’t… I did consider it,” Jasper said, grimacing.
There was a pause, their host and hostess turning their heads toward Mr. Rath with expectant silence, until he looked up from his own soup, dabbed his lips with the napkin, and said, “Limestone and byproducts. Processed and whole. Based here.”
“Ah,” said Mrs. Templeton-Rath. “Rustic.”
“Sussex quarries,” Mr. Rath added, and then he returned to his soup.
“It is not quite that simple,” Jasper protested, surprising Libba enough that she paused, spoon halfway to her lips, to turn to see what he would say. “Limestone also produces quicklime and lime wash. The byproducts include quartz and chalk. It’s a robust operation, outside of just stone.”
“Is that so?” Libba murmured, blinking rapidly.
“Yes, of course, dear. Any good industrialist knows the value of a multi-pronged product,” Mrs. Templeton-Rath said, nodding. “Even if it is rather dusty. What do you know of our operations, young man?”
“Cinnamon, gemstones, and tea,” he said, blinking at her. “And most recently, the influx of demand for quality veined graphite, which I expect will continue to grow.”
Mrs. Templeton-Rath’s eyes narrowed a little as she took a dainty bite of her soup and took her time chewing and swallowing. “Is that so? What has led to this expectation, Mr. Townsend?”
“Oh,” he replied, looking warily down at the swirling colors in his bowl. “Crucibles are already preferred in your material, for items spanning the whole of commerce. Pencils are gaining popularity with the common folk, given they are far more convenient than ink pots for mobility, but it is the experimentalists who are always trying to get to shipments first. There is apparently great potential for the conductivity of heat and electricity through the purer forms of graphite, and with research comes innovation and with innovation comes fascination and demand. One must be prepared for it.”
“My wife is a great champion of the sciences,” Mr. Templeton-Rath said with a chuckle. “Aren’t you, Aggie? And you’re right, we’ve had direct orders from many men of science.”
“Imagine how many more you will have,” Jasper said, dabbing his lips with a napkin, “when they have created something miraculous with it.”
Libba withdrew her slippered toes from under his heel while he was distracted and dipped her spoon back into the soup. Her eyes met Lem’s across the table, where his brows raised just a smidgen in acknowledgement.
Jasper’s sudden competence had surprised them both.
And, as much as she wished to continue tormenting him, now that he’d demonstrated viability to these people, she knew she could not sabotage it. She let him continue to discuss graphite trade through the main course, another glass of wine, and a syrupy dessert with crisp edges, only entering the conversation when addressed directly.
When the meal adjourned, they were instructed to stay for port and a parlor game.
Jasper’s quick acceptance meant she had no choice but to accept as well. Something had overtaken him after that fiery swallow of soup and she wasn’t certain that she liked it.
Christ. This might actually work.
They were folding him into their operation already.
“We wouldn’t ask you to leave your post just yet, of course,” Mrs. Templeton-Rath said as they all made to stand and brush themselves off around the table. “But you will be compensated for any assistance you’re willing to give us. We’ll need a few day laborers first and foremost.”
“I can get you those,” he said, so confidently with just a little hint of a smirk that Libba wanted to slap him until he was a panicky, bumbling mess again. “How many?”
“A dozen?” suggested Mr. Templeton-Rath, winning a nod from his brother. “A dozen.”
“I can get you a roster by tomorrow,” Jasper assured them.
“Excellent,” said their hostess. “This way, if you please.”
