Dear Future Husband

6. Why Is This Door Locked?

23 January 1889

After approximately one month of staying at Aunt Caro's house, Maximilian found that he was never bored. He spent much of his days apprenticing with Edgar and Gideon Wakefield, either running errands or learning accounts. At home, Daisy, who was Gideon and Caroline Wakefield's infant daughter, was learning to walk, which meant that every piece of furniture, as well as her family members' legs, were subject to becoming her footstool. He found her equal parts irritating and fascinating, with a shock of red hair and wide brown eyes that gazed at the world with unbridled curiosity. She had decided to make the goal of her life, for whatever reason, to follow him around as much as possible and at times even clung to his leg like a limpet. Daisy also had the unfortunate habit of biting those whom she latched onto.

One of the downsides of being in the Wakefield household, however, was that Gideon and Edgar ran their enterprise together. The Wakefield & Sons' Fine Goods Evaluation was the shop that Maximilian was to assist in. Gideon ran the financial section of the business, while Edgar worked with their noble and high-class clients. Maximilian was to assist both Edgar and Gideon until it was decided that there was one part of the business that he had more of an aptitude for. He was not paid much more than a small stipend, but the room and board more than made up for it.

That morning, he woke to the sound of rattling at his door, and rolled out of bed immediately, his bare feet landing on the cold wooden floor with a faint thud. He shivered in his sleep shirt and reached for the flannel robe on the chair by his bed in the small room, which was still larger than anything he'd been accustomed to in the orphanage. Scratchy wool enveloping him-that, too, was new, though a hand-me-down from one of the stable boys and smelled permanently of hay-he still could not suppress another shiver. The cracked windowpane let in the chill morning air with a hiss and the pungent aroma of smoke, though the smog was much less apparent here than in the orphanage where he had grown up. It was certainly a welcome change.

"Why is this door locked, boy?" It was Edgar, that seemingly-permanent scowl on his face. "I need you to come with me to meet a client."

"Right now?" The dawn had barely broken, the sun peeping through the ubiquitous grey British clouds that threatened rain. He gulped at the darkening glower on Edgar's face. "I mean... of course, sir. Right away, Mr. Wakefield, sir."

Maximilian despised having to scrape and bow to the man, but it was worth putting up with because Edgar did teach him a great deal about the upper classes. The sort of etiquette he was meant to use, the words he should not speak when in the presence of nobility, the proper way of tying a tie. Though the Wakefields themselves were in the merchant class and had made their fortune in the trades before opening their business, they had learned the ways of rubbing elbows with nobility.

"Be ready by six o'clock sharp, boy. We depart at six-thirty to meet a man of great importance." With one last look of distaste-Edgar never looked at him with anything but disgust or a rare instance of begrudging approval-he swept out of the room.

Splashing cold water on his face and wriggling into a slightly singed but clean white shirt and a pair of suitable trousers-he'd been taught to iron his clothes by one of the maids and had been distracted by her blonde curls, causing him to hold the iron on the muslin a second too long-Maximilian ran a comb through his tangled hair. Then he dashed out of his room. When he happened upon Aunt Caro, who was humming contentedly with a sleepy-looking Daisy on her hip, he paused, his sock-clad feet sliding on the parquet floors. When servants typically encountered the master or mistress of the household, they were encouraged to behave like furniture and turn to face the wall. Yet he was neither a servant nor was he a member of the family, no matter that he called her Aunt.

"Good morning, Maximilian." She always had a bright smile for him even if she spoke in hushed tones to keep from waking her daughter. "How are you on this fine day? Does my brother-in-law have you up so early to run errands for him?"

"He says we are to visit an important client," Maximilian explained in a similarly quiet tone, slightly short of breath. "I have to meet him at six, so I was going to grab a bite to eat."

"Well, do not let me hinder you." She stepped aside with another smile. "I am sure Daisy shall be quite upset at not seeing your face when she wakes, though."

"Oh." Somehow, the notion pained him more than he thought it would have. She had become like an irritating but adorable little sister to him. "I hope I shall be home before she goes to bed."

"Hopefully." A far-off, worried expression passed over her face before it was gone. "Have a good day, Maximilian."

"You as well... Aunt Caro." It was still strange to call her aunt when he had never known a single, solitary relation in all his fourteen years; stranger still to think of anyone caring for him. Yet that was brushed aside when he passed through a servant's passageway to the kitchen.

He was greeted by the mingled scents of spices and yeast from the floury dough that was being kneaded on the counter tops. A sausage roll had been saved for him, and his stomach growled when he saw the cook had been making muffins. But muffins, difficult as they were to prepare, were saved for the family, not for those halfway between servant and family.

"Thank you," he said to the cook, who gave a silent nod of acknowledgment before stirring something on the stove.

Maximilian scarfed down the food, his raw table manners forgotten in moments of hunger, though he was still careful not to stain his shirt with any crumbs. Washing it down with a drink of hot cider, he wiped his hands on a kerchief and went out to see exactly who it was he and Edgar would be meeting that day.

"Ah, Lord Winthrop, it is a pleasure to see you again," Edgar said with a charming smile. "What services can Wakefield & Sons offer you today, Your Lordship?"

Lord Winthrop, an earl who looked to be in his forties with greying brown hair and piercing blue eyes half-shielded by spectacles, cast an interested gaze around the shop. Dozens of expensive and fragile items that Maximilian had been warned not to touch sat on the shop's well-dusted shelves, from lifelike automatons to porcelain cups from the Orient. The faint scent of vinegar lingered in the air, along with beeswax candles and expensive cologne. Beyond the shop door with its tinkling bell that announced every customer's entry, Maximilian caught the faint strains of horses' hooves clopping and passers-by chatting.

"I found a trinket for my daughter in the attic at Grenledge, but I'm afraid I do not know its origins, nor do I know if its materials are genuine." Lord Winthrop held out a small crystalline swan, delicately crafted yet undeniably sturdy. Its eyes looked to be tiny black pearls, each feather of its wings casting rainbow prisms of light onto the shop's floor.

Edgar crooked a glove-clad finger, gesturing for Lord Winthrop to set the swan on the counter. He held a monocle to his eye. "My, how lovely. I am certain your daughter will appreciate it."

"Yes, she is a bit younger than your son here," Lord Winthrop said, a faux pas that made Maximilian's stomach turn. "Though just between the two of us, I think she is a handful. My Rosalie would prefer to swim with a real swan than play with a toy one, however lovely it may be."

Edgar gave a forced laugh. "Actually, this is my apprentice, Maximilian. And, I am sure your daughter will grow out of such wild behaviour."

Maximilian also thought it would be fun to swim with a real swan, but he kept that thought quiet as he turned to Lord Winthrop with a deep bow. "How do you do, my lord?"

Lord Winthrop smiled, and Maximilian prayed he had not done something too embarrassing. "I am quite well. Might I comment, Mr. Wakefield, on how very well-mannered your apprentice is."

Edgar mumbled something under his breath along the lines of you would never guess where I found him before carefully placing the swan in a box. "Well, thank you, Lord Winthrop. I shall appraise this swan and have it back to you and your daughter in no time."

"Thank you, Mr. Wakefield, I know I can count on both of you to do excellent work." Lord Winthrop put his hat back on and doffed it at Maximilian with a wink. With that, he was gone.