Chapter 3

The opening in the hole has closed. A few houses down there’s a small gap in the buildings, only small enough to fit a person, and you squeeze down that to the other side.

There’s a door three to the left and you knock on that, checking the purse once more by your side as you wait. If the package isn’t there, you’ll need to run and you wish you had checked before you knocked. But it’s there and the door is opened. You see a young woman, a servant and you’re surprised for a moment that anyone around here has enough money for a servant.

“I have a package for Mr Morgan please.”

“Come in, you can give it to him yourself.” She throws up a smile behind her back as she lets you in. “He don’t trust me.”

The house is like any house you’d see around here and it still perplexes you how a servant can be afforded. But you follow her through the hallway and into a lounge which looks slightly more well to do, but barely so.

There’s a young man sitting in a armchair by an empty fireplace. The chair is turned so as to face the fire, but from where the door is you can see half his body.

“’Scuse me sir, there’s a man here with a package for you.” She doesn’t curtsey and leaves the room.

“Come forward.”

You know he’s talking to you and you move to stand by him. He must, you think, only be a little older than you, and you begin to wonder what is in the package and why your lady directed you here with it.

You pull it out of your purse and hand it to him.

“With kind greetings,” you say.

He takes it, and as he reaches out his hands you see them shake.

“Send back my thanks won’t you lad.”

“Of course.” You take a step to leave but he holds up his hand.

“Just wait, let me see it.” He unties to string and lets the paper fall back.

You’re surprised at what you see, a ring. It’s only got a small red stone but you know that if it’s real it’s worth must be great.

“Is all well?” You ask of him. You’re starting to think that you’ve already taken more time than you should have and are eager to get back.

“Oh yes, very well.” He’s holding the ring up in front of him, and where you expect a gleam in his eye there’s a tear.

“My lady’s ring,” he says, and bows his head. His hands shake, but he returns the ring to its paper and ties a ragged knot around it.

“Take it lad.”

He’s holding it out but you don’t move.

“Shall I return it to my master’s lady?” You ask.

He shakes his head and you realise you cannot see his eyes behind his hair.

“You shall keep it.”

You cannot take it. Even if you wanted to you don’t know how you would move your arms at this moment.

“Sir, I cannot take such a thing. If it a gift to you from my masters lady.”

He looks up and you see the pain in his eyes. You take the package from his hands and there’s a glimmer of something better.

“I do not want it, and she does not need it. Make better use of it, do what you want, give it to someone else if you want, but make better use of it than I ever will.”

You nod and do not know what to say.

“You know there’s a reason why she sent you. She knows I will not take it, and she does not expect you to keep it, she thinks you’ll return it to her. You must be an honest lad.” He pauses and draws a breath. “Make sure you will not give it to her, say I kept it, she will not find out the truth.”

You nod, then find your voice. “I will. Thank you.”

He smiles, and feel like you’ve given him relief in taking the ring.

“Good lad. That is all then.”

You bow slightly, awkwardly as if you can’t remember how or why or what a bow is, and then leave. But at the door you stop. He’s staring into the empty fireplace again.

“I’m very sorry for your lady.”

He turns his head to you, nods and you leave.