5A/N: Hello again! Back with another chapter. Please refrain from leaving spam reviews on this story! Now sit back and relax while I torture Cameron some more.
Chapter 2
I slowly dragged the blade of my razor across my jaw, careful not to miss anything. I was late getting up this morning, and now I was late getting ready. No doubt I would hear from Jon about how I needed to stop skipping breakfast. I'll write to your mother, he threatened me once. I scoffed in the mirror as I took one last pass on my cheek. It didn't look like I missed anything this time—a mistake I would never make again in fear of Fermon's wrath. Besides, the last thing I wanted was her Ladyship staring at a singular hair on my jaw. I wiped what was left of the shaving soap off my face and rinsed my blade in my washing bowl. As I finished up and changed into my button up, I heard a knock at my door.
"Come in," I said, assuming it would be Oliver or Tim.
"If you don't go downstairs now, there won't be an ounce a toast left for you," Jonathan said. He leaned on my doorway, arms crossed over his chest.
"That's fine. I don't really eat breakfast anyway."
"That an American thing? Cause I ain't never missed a breakfast of Daisy's."
I shook my head with a smirk as I tucked my shirt in. I grabbed my coat off the rack and searched for where I threw my tie last night. "I didn't grow up in America, Jon. It was just dad."
Jon watched my every move as he finally entered my room and took a seat in my little reading corner. "Alls I'm saying is ya never used to miss breakfast like this."
I sighed, dropping my gaze to the floor as I tied my bow tie. He was right. I used to be up and dressed earlier than most, at least early enough to beat the younger boys downstairs before they ate everything Daisy cooked. Nowadays, however, I'd been sleeping in later and later. It wasn't like I was more tired than usual, or I wasn't feeling well…but I'd been having dreams. I shook my head and turned to Jon, motioning to my bow tie. He smirked at me and said it looked fine. Even though I was relatively confident in my tying skills, I always asked him to double check it for me. I used to ask my dad the same thing when I practiced. You'll need to make sure your attire is spick and span for work, you see. The lord and ladies here in England judge a lot by someone's appearance, he would say to me. My father was the type of man who always gave me the honest truth about how the world worked—truth I carried with me today.
Jon stood up and wiggled my bow tie, smiling at me. "Your pops did a good job with you, kid. Ya know that?"
A sad smile washed over my face, and I nodded. "You haven't done so bad polishing me up either."
Jon's heavy hand clapped me on the shoulder as he laughed. "Least I could do to help out your old man."
I snatched my gloves off the dresser before we left my room and headed downstairs to see what scraps were left over from breakfast. As we entered the kitchen, only a couple of people were still sitting at the table, sipping tea and chatting. Daisy, the head cook, looked me up and down with a smirk as I sat down at the table.
"Oi, I see sleeping beauty decided to join us? 'Fraid there's not much left for ya, Cam." Daisy cleared off a few of the empty dishes and carried them out towards the kitchen.
Tim, the groundskeeping apprentice under Jon, slid a plate with a singular pastry over to me. "There might be a sausage or two left," he said with a sheepish smile.
I grabbed the danish and poured myself a cup of coffee. "Don't worry about it, this is enough for me." I heard a scoff behind my head as Jonathan motioned to Tim to follow him outside for the day's work to begin. With Tim and Jon gone, and Daisy in the kitchen, all that was left in the servants dining room was myself and Mary, one of our laundry maids. She had offered me a sullen acknowledgement when I walked in a few minutes prior, but went back to her reading. I tried to get a look at what it was she was so wrapped up in, thinking it might be worth a read. However, the more that I watched her focus on the book in her hands, the more I started to notice how she was intentionally hiding the cover with her hands. She was hunched over in such a way someone walking behind her could scarcely catch a glimpse of the pages. The way she absentmindedly chewed on her lip made me smirk. I knew what she was reading.
I cleared my throat, just barely catching a glance from her. "You know, Mary, just a friendly suggestion, but maybe you should save those kinds of books for your time off in the evenings."
Mary's face turned beet-red and she slammed her book closed. I couldn't help but chuckle a little bit as she shoved the book in her apron pocket and stormed out of the kitchen. I had caught my sister with enough of those books to know what they looked like…or tried to look like to hide in plain sight. I was thankful Mary didn't question me, however. I feared she wouldn't have believed my familiarity was because of my little sister.
Finally, I was left with peace and quiet and my danish. I glanced up at the wall clock a few times to make sure I wasn't running late, but I was right on time. I finished up my pseudo breakfast and cleared the rest of the plates for Daisy. I juggled the last of the plates in my arms, trying to avoid staining my coat, but Daisy swooped in and grabbed them from me.
"Why are you doing my job again, Cam?" she said with a smile. She handed off the dishes to Katie at the sink.
"You know I like to show you up sometimes," I said. Daisy laughed and pointed to all the ingredients laid out for tonight's dinner.
"Then be my guest and cook dinner tonight, will ya?" she said.
I waved her off with a laugh. "I'm not a very good cook."
"Then git," she said with a wink.
In all of her gruff exterior, Daisy was quite a lovely person. Generous and kind—in her own way, of course. When I first began working here a year ago, she was one of the few people who would tell me what I was working with. Although I had learned many things through the rumors circulating around the manor and High Tower village, Daisy was one of the only people to tell me the truth. At least she was up front about her Ladyship's habits. I couldn't say the same for Jonathan. Even though he was the one to convince me to work here, he had shared very little about the nature of her Ladyship.
Her Ladyship, I thought. I checked my time and realized I needed to get her breakfast from the hot plate and take it up to the parlor. I grabbed her tray as well as her orange juice and quickly made my way up the stairs. As soon as I arrived in the parlor, the door opened from the other end and in walked Lady Sheridan, followed by Layla.
"I'm terribly sorry, your Ladyship, I haven't set the table yet," I said.
She looked at me and yawned. Layla was still trying to fasten her dress as she walked in and took a seat at the table. I felt the need to avert my eyes since she technically wasn't fully dressed yet, but her groggy voice came through a gentle smile.
"Don't worry Cameron, I'm still half-asleep myself." Layla looked at me like a plea for help, as she often does. I nodded to the young girl and offered a smile as I set Lady Sheridon's breakfast out for her. She immediately grabbed the glass of orange juice and sipped as she watched me lay everything down in front of her. I couldn't quite figure out what was in her eyes as she watched me so closely. We had done this almost every morning for the past year, without deviation in routine. Breakfast was one of the only things she did without deviation. It seemed as of late though, it was getting more difficult to understand what sort of thoughts were going through her mind. She was watching me so intently, she hadn't noticed I was done setting the table for her. As soon as I straightened my posture and stepped back from the table, she looked up at me.
"Thank you, Cameron. Layla, will you fetch the paper for me?"
Layla looked a little confused, and then looked to me. "It should be at the door by now, I usually grab it. I apologize," I said to her Ladyship, but mostly directed it at Layla.
"I'll grab it, my Lady." Layla scurried off to the front door as quickly as she could without sprinting out the door. She was always such a nervous lass, and as much as I understood those nerves, she made it hard not to snicker at her.
"I suppose we're all running a little behind today," Lady Sheridon said. She took a long sip of her orange juice, her eyes drifting off towards the windows.
"If that's all, my Lady, I'll take my leave," I said. I didn't get a response for a few minutes so I stood there, awkwardly clutching my silver tray. Finally, she turned to me with an inquisitive expression.
"Are you happy here, Cameron?"
Am I…happy? I had no clue where this question came from, but from the expression on her face, I could garner she had been pondering on this before. "Of course I am, my Lady."
My reply might have been a little too hasty, but what else was I supposed to say? No, I've been miserable for the last few months because I'm desperately attracted to you? Certainly not. That was an inner turmoil I had to face alone…and smother alone.
"Are you sure? Please don't spare my feelings," she said. She looked at me with those bright, crystal blue eyes and my resolve faltered everso.
"What would make you think I'm unhappy, your Ladyship?"
She pondered my question for a moment, looking down at her glass of orange juice. "I suppose I've just noticed you seem a bit tense lately. Ever since you came back from visiting home last."
Oh, I see. She thinks I'm homesick. "Well my Lady, I would be lying if I said I didn't miss my mother or sister, but I can assure you I'm very content with my place here," I said. I looked down at my freshly shined shoes and tried to hide a smile. Her concern for her servants was so admirable to me, considering the ethic of the house I worked at previously. Jon told me before I was hired over a year ago that she truly cared for her staff like old friends, as most of them were. But I'm afraid her concern only brings more shame to me. For what I feel when she speaks so sweetly to me isn't admiration or the feelings of an old friend.
"I appreciate your concern, my Lady," I said, shaking my pounding heart out of my ears.
A soft smile pulled at her rose lips and she leaned back in her chair. "I'm glad to hear my concerns are just my own anxiety." She chuckled as she guided some loose strands of walnut brown behind her ear. "You will tell me if you ever feel otherwise, won't you? I won't hear of my Cameron being unhappy."
I blinked hard. Did I hear her correctly? My Cameron? "O-of course, your L-Ladyship," I stammered. I'd heard her call Layla hers before, and Fermon as well, but never me. Me…hers. I recovered my senses as quickly as I could and offered a bow before hightailing it back to the staff wing. I passed a confused looking Layla on the way out but couldn't stop to talk to her. No, I needed to go jump in a cold river somewhere far from High Tower.
The trip back home her Ladyship spoke of was one of the worst weeks of my life. I was excited to be back home on the Yorkshire coast, but as the week progressed, the more distressed I became. Up to that point, I had naught an inkling past a quizzical interest in Lady Sheridan's unusual way of life. I was amazed at how comfortable she was with her staff, and how deeply she trusted them. But more than that, I learned more and more about her as the days went on. I learned how deeply wise and intelligent she was. I learned she had very little patience for people outside of her chosen circle. I learned about her special greenhouse and how much she loves the charities she contributes to, but scarcely enjoys helping them plan events. There were many things I wanted desperately to know that had not been revealed to me yet, but I had chalked it up in my own mind as nothing more than curiosity. When I saw my mother and sister before Christmas, I told them as much. That her Ladyship was a curious case and it was a pleasure working under her. However, I believe the distance over the holidays did more harm than good. And now every time our eyes met, my heart paid the price.
I hustled down to the kitchen and returned my tray, loading it up with a cup of coffee, a dish of sugar cubes and a little pitcher of cream. I knew she would want her coffee along with her paper, but my brain was still frazzled from the conversation we had. Daisy must've noticed and touched my elbow, getting my attention.
"You look pale as a sheet, m'boy. You all right?"
I saw the concerned look written over her flushed face and shook my head. I tried to offer a smile to satiate her worry. "I'm fine, Daisy, just a little lightheaded, that's all."
Daisy threw her hands on her hips and cocked an eyebrow at me. "Well maybe if you'd eat some breakfast in the mornin's you'd nare be pasty during your duties!"
I waved her off and took my tray back the way I came, Daisy still shouting about my poor appetite in the background. I didn't have time to argue with her about my eating habits. She's worse than my mom. As I reentered the parlor upstairs, I dropped off her Ladyship's coffee as quickly and with as little interaction as possible. She was engrossed in her daily paper anyway, so it made it easier to disappear once her breakfast plates had been cleared. I thought for a moment I saw her raise her hand to catch me before I left, but I kept on walking. I didn't think I could handle anymore one-on-one with her this morning.