Carnations in the Alley | manxman | (Historical Romance)

VI - Searching for a Place

Winter of 1798

Edgar was anxious to begin his first day working solely under the name of this young man he respected so greatly. He'd already worked beneath the Ramsey name for some years now; ever since he was nine years old, to be exact. This, however, would be the beginning of his new role as a trusted hand to the Young Lord himself, Norman Elliot Ramsey.

After having taken over certain roles his father used to manage, Norman was set to begin the day seeing to the monthly, scheduled audience he'd be attending here on the outskirts of Winterbourne.

Gracious in both appearance and build, Norman Ramsey sat across from twelve-year-old Edgar Morrison who kept his head down and hands together as the coach rolled along. The turn of the wheels and whistle of winter winds stirring outside had been all that filled their ears, but it was when the young lord shifted in his seat and dug through his coats inside pocket, that Edgar turned his gaze up toward the young lord.

Twenty-five and dressed as crisply as any polished lord typically was, Norman's head of short-styled, blond hair was pushed out of his face, and not a single flaw could be found in the sharp edges of his incredibly ruminating countenance. If he weren't already married to a maiden whose hand had been placed in his, one would expect a man as such to be quite the sought-after gem. He was towering when upright, had the physique of someone whose strength knew no bounds, and the Spring blue of his eyes sparkled as wonderfully as a still, reflected lake.

When Norman plucked a thick cigar from a case tucked in his coat, Edgar's eyes darted away when his attention was spotted.

"You have hardly been able to look me in the eye," Norman said, touching the tip of his cigar to the flame of the hanging lantern between them. After dragging a mouthful of the spicy smoke and letting it settle tastefully on his tongue, he breathed the cloud toward the open window where it dispersed. "Tell me, Edgar, do I frighten you?"

"No, my lord," Edgar answered with haste.

Although he knew what kind of fright the likes of Norman Ramsey could instill in people, especially if he was provoked, being alone in his presence wasn't due to fear of him.

Sitting in discomfort now that it seemed the eyes of the young lord would remain on him, Edgar swallowed what tension built up in his throat, and said, "Apologies. I mean not to offend, my lord."

"And what is it you are apologizing to me for?" Norman asked. "You may as well have all the approval in the world from my father. If I suspected any mediocrity or lackluster in you, I don't believe you would be traveling with me at this time. Loosen your tension, Edgar."

"Yes, my lord."

Silence draped over the moving coach again as the world continued to pass, minutes into hours, and once the sounds of an approaching city began to near, Norman peered from the window to the impressive view of Winterbourne. Erected at the base of a rocky cliffside, a prestigious university Norman was greatly familiar with looked more like a haunted castle. Foggy wisps and a sort of greyscale sat over the city, but there still remained a charm even with its plain finish.

"I hope not to be here long," Norman said. He seemed to be speaking aloud to himself. "Curse my father for granting me the management of this place; I have a son to return to. The least my buggering father can do is tend to my boy while I am away. If I discover he has left him for even a day without proper oversight, I just might find the strength to pummel the man."

Unsurprised by the threatening words, as Edgar was quite privy to the hostility that could span between Norman and his father, especially in regard to Norman's one and only child, if anything of the sort truly was out of the ordinary when he returned to Childermass, Norman just might follow through with his promise.