4. Glass Cleaning
GLASS CLEANING
Irene
Before seven in the morning, I was already up and about, staring out of the window while sipping my tea in the warm dining room among white lilies and freshly baked scones.
Even this early, the street was crowded with elegant gentlemen, maids, and footmen. But there was no trace of Alex. He would use the servants’ entrance, but I should see him walking down the pavement.
“Don’t be disappointed if he doesn’t show up.” Papa was hidden behind his ironed copy of The Times. Concern filled his aura with a sepia colour. “I don’t expect him to show up at all. He took the money, and that was it.”
“He’ll come. Surely, a proper job is better than stealing.”
He lowered the newspaper. “His mind works in a different way.”
As if to agree with him, the grandfather clock rang the Westminster chimes. Half past seven, and Alex hadn’t shown up.
What a disappointment.
“Maybe something happened to him?” I picked at a scone without enthusiasm. I was cursed and destined not to have friends.
“Darling.” Papa caressed the top of my head. His love for me tinted his halo pink. “You always see goodness in others, which is a remarkable quality, but it won’t serve you well in life.”
Mama had always believed in people’s fundamental goodness. Having experienced people’s cruelty, I wasn’t so hopeful, but I’d thought that Alex was different.
Papa made a noise halfway between a huff and a scoff as he resumed reading.
“Bad news?”
“There’s an outbreak of break-bone fever in East London. Three people are dead.” He folded the newspaper calmly, but a tremor in his hands and the steel-grey colour in his aura betrayed his worry.
“Not another one.” I stopped eating.
Jones carried a fresh pot of tea.
Papa exhaled. “I’m afraid Mr. Hart isn’t going to come, Jones.”
“The lad, my lord? He arrived at six and hasn’t stopped working since.” Jones gathered the dirty plates. “He’s cleaning the windows of the library. I must say he seems a hard worker.”
I beamed and took the scone again. “What did you say about my remarkable quality, Papa?”
He laughed. “Jones?” he called before the butler left. “There’s an outbreak of break-bone fever. Tell everyone to be careful.”
Alarmed, Jones left.
I finished my tea. “I’ll go upstairs and get ready for my piano lesson.” I kissed Papa’s cheek.
“Don’t get tired, and if you take a walk with Miss Garrett, stay in Mayfair.” Fear crept into his aura, forming a smoky purple snake.
“Don’t worry.”
At the foot of the stairs, I paused and checked that no one was around. Then I sprinted to the library. The squeaky noise of a cloth on the glass sounded from the window. Standing on a crate outside, Alex was wiping the glass with energetic, circular motions as if his life depended on it.
I waved, and he paused cleaning the glass.
“Good morning.” I opened the window and let the fresh air in.
“Miss Harlowe.” He tugged at his shirt soaked in places and finger-combed his raven hair. “Good morning.”
“I hope you’re going to enjoy working here.”
He gave a quick nod, staring at his worn boots. My power leapt out, eager to catch some feelings, and detecting Alex’s emotions was easy. There was something about what he felt that created a quick connection between my power and him.
Embarrassment dominated his halo with a crimson light. A hint of light brown annoyance sneaked in, too, pinching my chest.
My enthusiasm died. He didn’t want to talk to me. Perhaps the seizures weren’t the reason I didn’t have friends. Perhaps it was just me.
“I won’t disturb you further.” I started to close the window, but he placed his hand on it, blocking it.
There was a nervous bob in his throat. “Thank you, miss. For this job. I know it was you who convinced His Lordship.”
“It was Papa’s idea, really.”
“How do you feel after yesterday?” he asked.
I felt his care like a warm breeze on my cheek.
“A bit tired.”
He wrung the cloth without looking at me. “My sister was tired as well after a seizure. Mama would prepare a rich chicken broth for her.” Another crimson flare speared his aura. “You probably have something better than chicken.”
“It’s a great suggestion. I’ll try the chicken.” I drummed my fingers on the sill, gathering my courage. “We might have tea later.”
A burgundy flash flared in his aura. Shock. “I’m hardly an expert on etiquette, miss, but I don’t think it would be appropriate.”
My cheeks warmed. “Of course it wouldn’t be. I mean, I agree but…” I didn’t know where to look. He was right, but the offer had slipped past my lips in complete innocence. “It’s that I thought you might want…” My voice sounded like that of a mouse.
“You feel lonely, don’t you? Because of your condition. People avoid you. They consider you dangerous.” His understanding reached me easily as if we’d been friends for a long time.
“Yes.”
He fiddled with the cloth. “We could talk through the window as we’re doing now. But I don’t think we should take tea together. For your sake. And mine.”
“Talking would be great.”
A corner of his mouth quirked up. “Although I’m not sure what a street thief and a viscount’s daughter would talk about.”
“Pickpocketing. Every lady should learn how to steal a wallet.”
He laughed, and yellow happiness spread through his aura. “A valuable skill in a Mayfair ballroom.”
“You’d be surprised.” I laughed as well, and his happiness and mine mingled. “I hope we’ll be friends.” My tone was serious.
Yellow glowed in his halo more fiercely. “So do I.”
“I’m so glad you came.”
He nodded. “Likewise.”
Right then, Miss Garrett’s voice came from the hallway. “Irene?”
I waved. “I have to go. Don’t be afraid to ask for something to eat in the kitchen. Cook will be happy.”
He swallowed hard. His aura grew more crimson by the minute. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“Likewise.”