Chapter Seven

My first day off was the Sunday after I started working at Madam Cartwright's. I was told that my time off would depend on the amount of work that needed to be completed by a certain day, so usually I would have Sunday off, but not always.

Due to this uncertainty, I decided the best way to spend my day off was to make the most of it, and spend the time reading. I had only brought two books with me, but I enjoyed them so much that I was still as enraptured the hundredth time I read it.

I had picked up 'The Tales of Robin Hood' choosing to read it after Blanche reminded me of the titular character. I felt I needed to refresh my memory on all of the details.

The day was beautiful and bright, sunlight dripped through the curtains of my room, and the outside air was deliciously warm. And so, I made myself a small basket of food for lunch, and went out to find a secluded spot in the forest to curl up in and read.

I had already walked into the wood on the far side of Milton, where the path to home lay. And so I chose to go in the other direction, down the forest path that lead I did not know where.

The air was clean and crisp as I walked. The trees all around me were so full of life, so green and beautiful. Birds chirped, and insects flew over my head. Occasionally the slight breeze would pick up the edge of my skirt a little, causing it to ruffle and billow around me. The ground was soft underfoot, bouncing back up as soon as I stepped off it. I loved the forest. I always had done. I loved being close to nature and they all of the wild and free. Maybe that was why I was so wild in my everyday behaviours. No one had ever dared called me quiet and tame. I was not Ella, and I do not think I ever would be like her.

It did not take long to find a small clearing about half a mile outside the village. There was a small pond in the centre, which was lined with trees all around. The roots of the trees stuck out into fantastical shapes, marking a sort of cage around the pond. The golden sunlight reflected off the surface of the pond, illuminating all around it.

It was beautiful.

Every time the breeze picked up slightly, the water on the top of the pond would ripple, causing the sunlight reflected off it to dance around the cage of roots, giving the illusion of magic.

I firmly sat myself between two of the larger roots, my feet resting on one a little way away. The two roots I sat between stuck out at such an angle as to make a sort of chair and backrest, which conveniently happened to be big enough for someone to sit on.

I placed my basket carefully down next to me, and pulled off the cover to take out my book. The cloth covering was a little torn and fraying now, but that did not stop me from opening it eagerly at the front page to begin reading.

Hours must have past.

I didn't notice a thing.

I was no longer sat by the beautiful pond, I was running through Sherwood Forest, the evil sheriff hot on my tail. I was planning daring rescues and adventures. I was one of Robin Hoods followers, determined to bring Justice to all those who suffered. I was Maid Marian, her confident personality becoming my own as I strutted around Nottingham Castle, doing what I could to help Robin. I was Robin Hood, firing arrows that were made to hit their mark. I was-

'Hello.'

The sudden noise made me jump, and a small scream came out of my mouth. I turned as quickly as I could, panic flooding though every vein in my body. I whirled to face whoever had just spoken. My body tilted so far, I could feel myself falling down and down and down. A hand shot into my line of vision and grabbed my arm. I could feel it pulling me back upright so I would not fall into the pond which had come much closer to me than I had realised. My head finally snapped into place so I could see who had startled me so.

Jack was there, staring down at me. His hand was wrapped securely around the top of my arm, and he pulled me back up to a sitting position, out of danger of falling into the pond.

I began to breathe again. I didn't realise I had stopped, but once air got back into my lungs I noticed how drained I had been. I stared a Jack incredulously

'Don't sneak up on me! You frightened me half to death!'

'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.' He said, the concern in his voice evident.

I took in several more breaths.

'And I didn't really sneak up on you.' He started.

'I made lots of noise walking over here. You were just wrapped up in that book.' He told me, gesturing to the book I had grasped firmly in my hand.

'I... well... I...' I tried to form a coherent response and failed miserably.

'Is it that good?' He asked, politely.

I nodded.

'You made me lose my place.' I told him. In my panic I had closed the book shut so fast that I didn't have time to mark where I had ended, I usually did this by turning over the corner of the page I was reading. Ella used bookmarks, but I could never afford one, and it seemed a waste of money when I could just turn over the corner.

'I'm sorry, really I am.' Jack said, he did sound very apologetic.

'You will be, if I can't find it again.'

He was silent.

'Why are you here?' I asked him. I hadn't seen him since my first day in Milton, where he had helped with my basket accident.

'I was on my back home, it's Sunday afternoon.' He sounded like he was reminding me, but not in a condescending manner.

'But the path is over there.' I said. I knew as I had come down the same path hours before. This clearing was not in the direct line of the path, you had to skirt around several trees to get here. Therefore Jack could not have been here by accident.

'I come here a lot.' He told me.

'Why?'

'I draw.' He murmured.

That took me by surprise.

'Well, it's a beautiful place to draw.' I said to him. 'Are you any good?'

'They're just little sketches, nothing fancy.'

'Can I see?' I asked. He looked hesitant.

'They really aren't that amazing.'

'Oh, please let me see!' I begged. 'I can't draw at all, so at least they will be better than anything I could ever attempt!'

He paused for a moment longer, before reaching into his pocket and drawing out a small book. The cover was covered in shades of different colours, in what appeared to be ink or pastel. He drew the book up to his chest, shielding it from my view, as he flicked through the pages of it quickly. Clearly deciding what drawings to trust me with was a difficult decision.

His blue green eyes narrowed as he turned over one page in particular and took a moment to study the contents. Then, slowly he extended it to me. I reached forward and took it carefully from his hands, turning it to face me.

On the page was large room, I had seen it before. There were chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, spilling light onto the crowd of assembled people. People all wearing fine clothes. An orchestra was assembled in the corner of the room. The marble columns rose up to the painted ceiling in long straight strokes. Even though there was no colour on the page, only the grey of a lead pencil, the image was instantly recognisable.

The ballroom of Duke William Howards' palace.

On the evening of the ball.

It was quite remarkable. Although it was obvious it was a sketch, the lines were not lifelike, it was a very good interpretation of the scene.

'Is this where you were all night?' I asked.

'Yes, Mrs Harris placed me on serving duty on the far side of the room. Not many people came up to me, so I entertained myself.' He admitted.

'It's incredible!' I remarked. Jack blushed.

'It's not really. Only a quick sketch.'

'No, it really is incredible.' I told him. I genuinely thought it was. The skill, the time, the patience that had gone into this, it quite took my breath away.

My curiosity got the better of me, I lifted the corner of the page and was about to turn it over when-

'No!' Jack said rather loudly, causing my hand to still.

I was shocked. I had never heard Jack raise his voice before, ever. His cheeks went an even darker shade of red than before, as he extended his hand towards me, gesturing for me to return the book.

'That one isn't finished yet.' He said, in a quieter tone of voice.

'Oh, excuse me.' I said. I handed the book back to him, not wishing to be rude. But my curiosity had been peaked, what was the drawing that Jack did not want me to see?

'Do you have a sketch of this place?' I asked him. He nodded, and flicked through the book, once again holding it it his chest so I could not see. His fingers turned the pages quickly, his jewel like eyes darting between the drawings with a rapid motion. He finally stopped turning over the pages somewhere near the beginning of the book, took a moment, and then held it out to me again.

This page exploded with colour. The vibrant green tones covered the paper, the golden shade of the reflected light almost matched the exact colour of the pond now. I touched the image gently, running my finger over it as carefully as I could.

'Oil Pastels.' Jack told me, I didn't even need to ask the question.

'How on earth did you afford them?' I asked, not daring to look away from the beautiful picture before me.

'I saved up as much money as I could from my first year of working. My mother always encouraged me to pursue drawing, so she helped a little. I bought them for myself for my sixteenth birthday.'

'It's beautiful, so beautiful.' I whispered under my breath. He heard me and averted his eyes. I was still staring at the paper, but I saw him out of the corner of my eye.

When I could finally tear my gaze away from the picture, I turned to Jack.

'These are incredible, you should be an artist!'

He shook his head.

'I'm afraid that small piece of art like this do not pay very well. And as much as I like doing it, I would also like to be able to eat.' He said with a small smile.

'And I don't really think anyone would be interested in buying this anyway.' He added.

'They would!' I told him. He really did have a gift! 'If I had money, I'd buy the whole book off you right now!'

'Thank you, but I think you'd be alone in your custom.'

'I would be honoured to be your only customer. I'd like to have a personal artist.' I joked.

His face turned towards me again, as his smile widened.

'Unfortunately, I have a footman's position to keep, so I cannot be your own personal artist.'

'What a shame!' I told him. 'I was rather looking forward to it.' He laughed a little.

'Maybe in the future.' He replied. 'And what about you? Why are you here.'

I raised my eyebrows and used my eyes to gesture to the small worn out book that still lay in my left hand. His eyes widened with realisation.

'I was trying to read, before you almost made me fall into the pond.'

'I did not!'

'Yes you did!'

'Well, if you'd not been so engrossed in that book, you wouldn't have been so surprised.'

He laughed a little to himself.

'What's so funny?' I asked, slightly confused.

His eyes met mine as he stopped laughing, but a smile still in his face.

'I said something last one we saw each other. I said every time I see you, you are always on the ground.'

It was true, he had said that.

'And now I find you, and you are sitting on a tree root, about to fall into a pond.' He informed me. 'Does that count as being on the floor?'

I thought for a moment.

'Yes, I think it does.' This had become a sort of personal joke between the two of us, so I saw no harm in continuing a little further.

We stayed in silence for a moment, before he spoke again.

'So, what book has got you so spellbound?'

I swallowed, and took a breath. I had a rather annoying habit of whenever someone asked me about a book or a story, I would rattle on for quite some time, telling them every intricate detail I could remember, giving all the opinions I had on it, and just generally talking for a stupidly long amount of time about it.

'Well...' I began, and went off on my little tirade. Jack, to his credit, listened to everything, and looked genuinely interested in what I had to say. I felt rather sorry for him about halfway through, as he stopped standing and took a seat on the root next to me. But I didn't stop. I couldn't stop myself.

Once I was done, my throat was dry, my eyes bright with excitement, and my mind completely engaged with the story.

Jack actually asked a few questions, and I responded in a eager fashion. It was only when he glanced up at the sky, did I realise we had been sat there talking for quite a long while. His eyes met mine as he said quietly.

'I would like to stay, but my mother is expecting me. I only get to see her once a week, so I really should go.'

I nodded to him.

'Of course.' I said. As he was about to turn away, I felt the need to speak up.

'I also wanted to thank you' I told him.

'What for?' He replied, but his expression told me he knew exactly what for.

'Well, some mysterious person, who happened to be called Jack apparently put in a good word for me with Madam Cartwright. Do you know him?'

'I might do.' He smiled

'If you see him, tell him I am ever so grateful for what he did.'

'And I'm sure he would tell you that it was nothing, and he would do it again in a heartbeat.'

'Shame I can't talk to him now really...'

We both laughed.

'Do you often come here on a Sunday afternoon?' I asked.

'Sometimes.' He responded, with questioning gleam in his eye.

'I will sometime have Sundays off work too. Maybe I will see you here?' I asked.

Inside, my mind was whirling. Maybe he did not want to see me so regularly. Maybe he hadn't enjoyed our conversation as I had. Perhaps he wanted some peace and quiet here so he could sketch his beautiful drawings.

I could feel small butterflies in my stomach as I spoke.

Jacks lips moved upwards.

'Yes, I would like that very much.' He said.

I smiled.

And the butterflies vanished.

'So, maybe next week?' I asked.

'I will look forward to it.' He replied.

And with that, he turned away from me and began to walk back through the trees, towards the path that lead to Milton. And I took up my place on the root of the tree, and opened my book, and dove right back into the story of Robin Hood with a wide smile on my face.