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Chapter Ten
As the days passed by, Dorian found himself unusually restless within the confines of his own home. Ordinarily, Langston House was his one and only sanctuary from a world that ostracized him for his mismatched eyes and the darkness people seemed to sense within him.
What is this feeling?Dorian had flitted from the library to his study, to the drawing-room, and had even ventured to the kitchens, much to the shock of the cooks and assistants who toiled there. Yet, he had not been able to shake the strange sensation that prevented him from settling in one room for longer than an hour.
As such, he found himself outside the house, wandering the gardens with the vague intention of heading for the menagerie that stood beside the walled gardens. The domed structure had been finished last summer, as part of a long-time desire of Dorian’s, to have a proper building for all of his animals, with additional space for future creatures that he had thought about purchasing: a tiger, or a spectacled bear, or some exotic birds from far-flung rainforests.
Quite unaware, he realized he had circled back to the cobbled courtyard where the sandstone outbuildings were kept. There, he stopped outside the entrance to the yard and peered in like a bird of prey watching for a plump mouse.
I always come back here, and I do not even know that I am doing it.It had become an unexpected part of his daily routine to look in on the daily endeavors of the scullery maids and laundry maids, though his eyes only ever sought out one. Rose.
With the weather grown so unbearably warm, it had become commonplace for the maids to take their tubs of soapy water out into the courtyard itself, where they perched on milk stools to go about their business. Thin lines of twine crisscrossed the yard from wall to wall, like the web of an enormous spider, where the maids would hang the washing out to dry when they were done scrubbing.
Where are they?The tubs and stools were scattered around the courtyard, but there was no sign of the maids. Nor could he hear their bubbly chatter and their comfortable laughter, from which he always listened for the note of one particular voice and one impossibly sweet laugh.
He ducked back into the safety of the outer wall as the ladies suddenly returned from their luncheon, the younger ones cackling about a footman.
“Did you see the way he looked at you, Rose!” A flame-haired young woman, whom Dorian remembered as Neve, clapped Rose on the shoulder. “He were like a mooncalf. I thought his eyes would topple out of his head, for how wide they were.”
A mousy-haired maid giggled. “Aye, and who wouldn’t act the fool for our Rose? Georgie might be the rarest beauty of us lot, but Rose has got looks and personality both. She had Mrs. Whittaker roaring when she told that joke about the lobster. I thought she were going to blow a vein!”
Rose smiled, and Dorian could not resist peering further into the courtyard. “It was one of my ma’s jokes. It took me years to understand what it meant, so I can’t let it go to waste.”
“Seaweed!” The mousy-haired girl clutched her stomach, descending into a fit of fresh giggles. “I think you startled most of the lads, too!”
Rose shrugged. “Then they must be easily shocked.”
What is the jest?Dorian felt as though he knew the conclusion of the joke, but he did not know the construction of it. Deep within him, he longed to be part of the good humor and to find out what had tickled them so intently.
And who is this footman who stared at her like a mooncalf?A subtle flicker of envy prickled within his chest at the thought of her being objectified by men of his household. Nor did he like the feeling that he had missed out on some great witticism that she had graced everyone with aside from him.
In truth, it felt as though she had vanished into the labyrinth of his home the moment he had found suitable employment for her. He had not seen hide nor hair of her unless he had sought her out himself by coming to this courtyard or by making excuses to speak with Mrs. Whittaker while she was sitting down to the staff’s evening meal, where he knew Rose would also be present.
Even then, he did not approach Rose because why would the master of a household seek out a laundry maid? He knew gossip and the poison it spread, and he did not want Rose to suffer, simply because he had an irrepressible longing to speak with her again. And yet, these stolen glimpses were not enough.
“How did I know I would find you here, Captain?” A sharp tap on his shoulder made Dorian whirl around. There, grinning from ear to ear like a wolf, stood Hudson. “I could time you by clockwork. Always here, always at the same time, always watching the same young lady. Curious, is it not, that this behavior of yours only began when Miss Parker arrived, while the rest of us curs have been watching the laundry maids for years. Mrs. Linehan, especially.” He gave a mischievous wink. “She may be older, but I bet she would offer an education that no man could forget.”
Dorian hurried away from the courtyard wall, fearing that Hudson’s voice might alert the laundry maids to their presence. He did not come here to be seen. He came here to watch, and to… Well, in truth, he did not know why else he tormented himself like this, as though he were a schoolboy who had been stirred for the first time by a flash of an ankle or the curve of a waist.
“You know you should not sneak up on a gentleman who has been to war, Hudson. I might have slit your throat by accident, taking you for a foe instead of a friend.” Dorian prayed that Hudson could not see the warm flush of his cheeks, for he would never hear the end of it.
Hudson chuckled. “Personally, I prefer that black-haired temptress, but she will not so much as glance at me after that incident with the hanging basket.” He rubbed his shoulder with a mock pout. “I still feel the ache when the weather turns cold.”
“You deserved that,” Dorian scolded. “I have warned you time and again about getting too close to the ladies on my staff. If you defy the rules, then do not complain when you have to be forcibly hauled away from them.”
“What if I were to take Miss Parker by the hand if she were to lose her way in the dark?” Dorian knew Hudson was taunting him, but he could not help but take the bait.
His forehead furrowed. “I would put your hand through the mangle and lead Miss Parker to safety myself, without having to lay a finger upon her.”
“Then you would be a fool who lacks the ability to see an opportunity when it is set before him.” Hudson laughed and followed Dorian as he stalked away from the courtyard.
Once he was certain he had reached a safe distance, Dorian dared a glance back at the courtyard entrance. His heart almost lurched out of his chest as he saw Rose standing there, drying her hands upon her apron as she met Dorian’s gaze without fear.
Why is she not afraid of me?He had noticed this peculiarity on several occasions, mostly when he fabricated a reason to speak with Mrs. Whittaker in the kitchens during the staff dinner. The housekeeper had never said anything about it, but she must have known that Dorian could easily send a servant to convey the message in his stead, especially as the “urgent messages” were usually pitifully trivial, like “the library fire is too hot,” or “there is not enough sugar in my tea,” or “the blackberry jam for the scones was much too tart.”
“You like her, do you not?” Hudson piped up again, as Dorian finally drew his eyes away and focused on the menagerie. In order to calm himself, he needed to see his animals. He needed to sit with them and stroke their fur and feel content again, for he could not feel anything but agitation when he was out here… so close to Rose and yet unable to say a word to her.
Dorian feigned a snort. “Nonsense! How many times must we have the same conversation, Hudson? I feel responsible for her welfare, and that is all.”
