Tale As Old As Time

Chapter Two: Thomas

"The morning is good indeed, Mr. Thompson," the girl servant smiled at him, her blue eyes widening as she observed him.

Thomas cleared his throat and tilted his head toward the case of milk in his hand, "The milk... miss?"

"Oh, of course! Silly me," the girl giggled and took it from him, making sure to graze her fingers on his. She clumsily placed it on the nearest table she could reach before she turned back to him and watched him climb the cart and made the horse walk on.

Thomas had been the temporary milkman for four fortnights now, allowing the milkman Mr. Weston to rest his injured back. The village people in Bakewell have accepted him with open arms, some more enthusiastic than others, paying no mind to the fact that he was not from there. Being a newcomer had even boosted his popularity among the people. Thomas considered it a double-edged sword, allowing him to easily hide away from the people who sought him but also posing a risk to be recognized as who he is. Or was.

He ran away from who he was, and is well on his way into becoming the person he wants to be. Although it wasn't the most ideal path to becoming a biologist, he had a new-found respect to the ordinary, untitled people of Great Britain. He was a pure finder, then moved to being a rat catcher, before becoming a newspaper boy - or newspaper young man. Now, finally, a temporary milkman. He had to start from scratch, and in places where his face would be less likely recognized.

Thomas avoided great, noble families and the jobs they offered within their homes. He couldn't work in gentlemen's clubs nor shops either. He didn't qualify to be a clergyman, bank staff, or a hotel worker. The jobs that were available to everyone and anyone were the ones nobody wanted, but anybody in poverty would take. Anything for a few coins to feed their families and have shelter. It was something he had grown gravely concerned about since he ran away, knowing how noble families and the royal family lived.

Thomas sighed as he led the horse into the stable. There would be a day that he will report it all, and ask for things to be improved, but it was not today. Perhaps when he is firmly established as a respected professional. Yes, that way, he could help their great country and live his own life.

"Tommy," Mr. Weston greeted him with his false name, beckoning him to have some bread in his kitchen. The old man told him that he only had another week left. Thomas understood this the very first day he took it on. It was only a temporary position because it was Mr. Weston's livelihood. Mr. Weston couldn't afford another person to pay once he was able to do the job again - he could barely pay Thomas now anyway.

When Thomas returned to his rented lodge, he wasted no time to find a new job. "Private detective in need of a temporary assistant. Must be able to travel whenever. Experience not needed," Thomas read the advertisement in the newspaper as he sipped his tea. His eyes traced the sentences next to it, which caused him to splutter and choke on his tea.

"Easy there, mate," his roommate, Yosef, slapped him on his back, chuckling at him. "I know you'll miss me but you don't have to dance with death to make me stay. You need only to ask."

Thomas waved him off, answering him sarcastically, then went back to reading the advertisement another time. There was a detective in London who would pay five hundred pounds for a temporary assistant. The work is expected to last a few days only, and provided a warning that the tasks would pose certain danger.

"Perhaps I will follow you to London," he told his roommate. He brought out a paper as well as his quil and ink, writing a response to the advertisement. It might be dangerous but it paid handsomely. If he was careful to hide his identity and in doing the work he was required to do, then it will be worth it.

"I didn't know you would be so attached to me. It is quite creepy," his roommate laughed, glancing at Thomas over his round shoulder.

He shook his head, and spoke seriously. "I have found a job I might have."