Carnations in the Alley | manxman | (Historical Romance)

II - Kent Everleigh

Watching as his hand was taken by this stranger, the young man followed in the wake of this partly daunting and partly comforting shadow. He'd never seen this man in all his life and couldn't remember arriving, just the mere fact that he'd opened his eyes, and this person was the only one around.

Seemingly in the middle of nowhere, the young man had been frightened to his core, but far more frightened of the world's darkness than the man who hadn't made an attempt to pursue him. Perhaps if things ran smoothly through the night, he would get away, but for right now, being essentially catered to by this silent person didn't seem so bad.

As his eyes took in the interior of the manor, the young man had to admit he was surprised to know a man who looked like this one could afford to live in such a place. There were expensive trinkets all about, the walls were finely papered, floor polished, the furnishings were like works of art on their own, and the painted pieces hung about the walls appeared pricey enough. He knew a lot about pricey things and had been surrounded by objects used for boasting throughout his entire life.

Looking down at himself, he grimaced at his appearance. His once ivory white and unstained blouse was ratty with wrinkles and stains, trousers torn at the knees, and he wasn't wearing any shoes. With bare feet, mud was caked between his toes, and it looked more like he'd run through the marshy Fenlands. Realizing he was covered in this filth ate away at his nerves. He felt disgusted. He felt homely. And the longer the young man's eyes stayed with the untidiness of his outward appearance, the more he wanted to curl in on himself and vanish. This wasn't him!

A tug met his hand then and when he looked up, he met Edgar's eyes, and said, "I've — I've dirtied your floors."

"Doesn't matter," Edgar said, and the young man was a bit taken aback by the deep gruffness of the other man's voice.

As Edgar guided them along, their hands still linked together, it wasn't long until they were standing in the middle of a washroom. There was an empty, copper tub nearest to the far window, a bolted mirror, storage for bathing materials, and a large, round centered rug in the middle of the tile floor. Edgar finally released the young man's hand after leading him to a cushioned stool nearest to an extravagant vanity and set his lantern atop the narrow mantle of an unlit fireplace.

"I'll be a moment," Edgar said, starting for the doorway again.

"Wait," the young man called after him, and when Edgar halted with a show of sternness, he said, "You're not going to ask my name?"

There seemed to be more of a look of disinterest in Edgar's eyes at the question, but the silence also made the young man think he was waiting for him to follow up with a response.

"Kent," he answered, "My name is Kent Everleigh."

Edgar knew the name. Actually, he knew the name relatively well given the connection it had to the true owners of this property. They'd cut ties with the head of the family some years back given Edgar's own master had a bit of a falling out with them. Recalling the heated feud that'd erupted between the two men gave Edgar a pause. With the tension held between his master, Norman Ramsey, and the Everleigh name, he wondered if Master Ramsey would be upset to know the youngest son of said household was here right now.

"And you are?" Kent asked then, noting the man's hesitation.

"Morrison," he said in return. "Edgar Morrison. Wait here a moment."

As directed, Kent took a seat upon the cushioned stool and let his eyes wander about the stunning bathroom, and while it was awfully beautiful, he couldn't help comparing it to the one back at his home.

How far am I from home right now? he wondered.

Will I ever be able to return?

Kent turned upon the stool and faced the vanity. Trying to look past the filth of his appearance, he saw himself as what he'd looked like only some hours ago. Was it some hours ago? Or days? He couldn't quite gather how much time had gone by since the last time he'd opened his eyes.