Riff tried not to notice the peeping blue eyes and thick blond bangs perched on the second-story windowsill as he traversed the walkway of the Hargreaves estate. He went in the back entrance, where the servants were permitted to come and go as required, and hung his cloak in the closet which was far too small for the number of servants.
It wasn't until tea time that the blond bangs made another appearance.
"Your tea, Madame Salin," Riff said, placing a tray down at the tutor's side. "Miss Mary," he bent down to serve her and his ear filled with her hasty whisper.
"You've got it, then?" She took the teacup and saucer from his hands.
"Not to worry, miss," he whispered his answer just as furtively as she had asked.
When they passed each other after dinner, she tugged on his tail urgently, trying not to fall behind her brother and uncle in their exit. "Soon," he mouthed the word to her, and her pink lips fell into a practiced pout.
An hour later, when Riff came in to collect the teacups from Cain and Merryweather, he nodded to the little girl, barely making eye contact, and a moment later she let out a tremendous yawn.
"Big brother, I am growing very tired. I think I shall go to bed soon," she declared.
"So early? You're usually begging me to stay up an extra hour." He frowned, but his eyes never moved from his newspaper. "Very well." She rose and bestowed her goodnight kiss on her brother's cheek before skipping off, hardly able to contain her excitement.
"Did Lord Cain give you a hard time running off?" Riff asked when Merryweather entered the library. He had just thrown a fresh log in the fire.
"No, but I told him that I wanted to go to bed rather than come to the library." Riff smiled and opened his jacket to remove a collection of booklets from his pocket. "What ones do we have this week? Wow, another one about the highwayman?" Mary delightedly ran her fingers over the covers.
"Mind your fingers!" Riff protested. "If Master Cain were to see them covered in ink, then our secret wouldn't be a secret anymore." Mary's fingers instantaneously recoiled. "So we must be very quiet and careful. Which one shall we read first?"
"Pluck and Luck is always a good start," she suggested, spreading her skirts to sit down on the floor. Riff lowered himself next to her, and opened the flimsy, ink-stained page.
"Pluck and Luck it is. This week, we learn the tale of Slippery Steve," he announced and began reading the half-penny aloud. They neared the end before, unbeknownst to either of the engrossed enthusiasts, the library door opened the tiniest sliver. Nothing happened for a few minutes afterwards as Riff continued to read and Merryweather's face contorted into an expression of shock when Slippery Steve's story neared its climax.
"Dear Merryweather," a voice from outside interrupted and both froze. "I thought you were going to bed." The door opened enough for Cain to poke his head into the library. Caught. Red-handed. Or maybe more like black-fingered.
"Well, I was on my way when I saw someone had made a fire in the library, and when I saw Riff, he asked me if I wanted to read a story with him. A bedtime story, really," she explained, smiling her anxiety away.
"What bedtime story? Am I familiar with it?" he asked, crossing the room to get a better look at the booklet in Riff's hands. "Pluck and Luck? That's strange, I've never heard of it. Now, is it written by the Grimm Brothers or our friend Mother Goose?"
"Neither, brother. It is a new publication, but the story is over now. It is time for me to retire. My appetite for fairytales has been well-sated." She kissed her brother's cheek once more and ran out before he could catch her by her ribbons.
Cain gave a look of feigned disapproval to his manservant, who closed the booklet silently. "You really mustn't encourage her with despicable literature of this kind. Some Milton, maybe some Chaucer? I wouldn't complain. But the dreadfuls?" He snatched the paper out of Riff's hands. "Not very elegant for a young lady."
"They really aren't so different from the stories the newspapers print. The ones by Mr. Dickens. But, Miss Mary is too young to know them. Probably you too. My mother used to read them to my brother and me when we were very small." Cain flipped through the pages. "Those nights are some of my favorite childhood memories." Riff looked away for a moment before returning his eyes to his master. "You are right though. Forgive me, my lord, for this infraction."
"There is nothing to forgive," Cain said with a smile. He extended his hand down to his servant and helped the valet to his feet. "So long as you invite me next time."
Author's Note:
Hey guys, sorry it's been a while since I've updated this! Just to let you know, Riff and Mary are reading booklets known as the penny dreadfuls, a series of penny-priced publications with crazy, sensational fiction stories specifically geared at young audiences to thrill them. They were like really bad, cheap serial novels, which is a nice touch to the time period, since Godchild probably takes place after serial novels were at their height. History! Literature! Exciting!