The Magician's Sons

Chapter 5

With no need to hurry, Norman Sterling buttoned his waistcoat at a leisurely pace, gazing fixedly into a long mirror before him. He wasn't half dissatisfied with what he saw. How could he be? He was tall and broad shouldered; his new suit of clothes made him look very fine; and there wasn't a person he knew who didn't admire him for his comely features and his clever mind. Not that Norman dwelt on his own good-looks for long. He felt pleasantly satisfied with himself without wasting time on details.

It was a normal morning for him. He had woken quite early, but he wouldn't really come alive until he had drunk his coffee. When he was finished readying himself for the day, he went quietly out of his room.

There weren't many residents in that house. It was only himself, his father, and Mr. Crumley, who had become an almost permanent part of their household. As far as Norman was concerned, he might as well have been a permanent part of their family. For as long as the youth could remember, the grumbling, overbearing man had come to visit every year for several months at a time. Norman almost felt as if Crumley was his own uncle.

As he passed Crumley's door, Norman could hear the man snoring the loudest song of slumber. It isn't likely that he'll wake up for a few hours, he thought with a humored smile. Who knows what he finds to do so late at night! I didn't hear him go to bed until nearly one o'clock! Norman had already been in bed, but he had been woken by the sound of Crumley's heavy feet tramping down the hall.

With quiet steps on the thick carpet, Norman made his way downstairs and headed down the hall. His father was sure to be awake. The old man was as punctual as a timepiece and just as predictable too. At that early hour, Norman knew he could find Mr. Sterling in his study writing letters at his desk. But before the young man reached his destination, he was stalled by the sight of another person moving down the narrow hall toward him.

Norman stood still, struck for an instant by a feeling of wonder. He had never seen the servant girl ahead of him before. She was near his own age with dark hair and a radiant face. But who was she?

Father said he was going to hire a new maid this week, Norman recollected. I think he must have told me her name once, but I paid little heed. I never expected her to be so young! He almost felt like laughing at himself when he compared his expectation of a sour-faced, dignified old woman to this youthful maiden. But there was no more time to contemplate.

At that moment, the girl noticed him and gave a slight start of surprise. Her cheeks blushed an anxious shade of rose. It was only her first day working in the Sterlings' house, and already she felt as if she had made a terrible blunder. Lowly maids like her weren't supposed to be seen by the family unless they called for them. They strove to be an invisible presence in the house, silently working while no one was watching. But here she was face to face with the master's son.

"I beg yer pardon, sir!" she faltered, dropping him a curtsy. "I've just finished polishin' the wainscot in the hall." Her hands were full of dingy rags and bottles of cleaning solutions. The girl's eyes wandered over the carpet nervously as she wondered what she should do next. The hallway was too narrow for her to pass Norman easily.

For a moment longer, Norman was silent. What to say? What to do? How to break the paralyzing spell which had come over him? If he had been any other man, he might have given the maid a cold, condescending nod and passed by without a word. I think no one else in London would have called her beautiful; although, she was beautiful in her own natural way. But Norman had never felt so elated or unsettled as he felt when he looked at her.

"If...if ya wouldn't mind takin' one step to the left, sir, I fink I might be able to pass on down the hall wivout soilin' yer jacket wiv these rags," the maid suggested at last. Her voice brought Norman to his senses in a snap.