Page 19 of A Curse of Hope and Shadows: Part I
“Young Lord—” she started, not entirely sure where her words were going.
“Dimitri,” he whispered.
“What?”
“Please call me by my name. When no one else is about. Please. I’m forgetting the sound of it.”
Chapter Six: The Library
Long after dinner time, after darkness had filled the room, there came a knock on the door. Dimitri didn’t answer, and Adeline realised he’d fallen asleep in her lap.
“Come in,” she said softly.
Mrs Minton appeared. “Adeline, is everything all right?”
“I think he’s fallen asleep.”
Mrs Minton crept closer, the ghost of a smile twitching in her thin lips. “So he has.”
“Mrs Minton… he… he doesn't have a temper, or at least… not like people think. He's just in pain.”
A narrow eyebrow in Mrs Minton’s temple twitched. “I rather suspected that.”
“Why… why didn’t you…”
“I asked. He lied. He would not be the first person to lie about his pain.”
“But he’s so…”
Young? He’s older than you were when you learnt to shoulder it, to hide it beneath a smile. Not everyone is able to summon one. Others have different ways of keeping pain disguised.
The truth was, it wasn’t his age, it was his position. He was a lord. Every whim was his to indulge. He should have been more whiny and selfish about it, demanding attention and praise and whatever it was that wealthy people got for doing the same things the poor did but with money in their pockets.
When most people hid pain, they did it so as not to hurt others. But here… the only person he was truly hurting was himself.
Mrs Minton raised a hand to Dimitri’s cheek, the ghost of a touch, a moment of sharpness dissolved. “I’m glad he told you,” she said. “Come, let’s get him into bed. I’m sure the two of us can manage.”
It wasn’t hard to maneuver him, despite his stature. He was all skin and bones, as light as a child. Wrapped up in bed, inhuman side disguised by the press of shadows, he looked very small and ill, a whisper on the breeze.
“Come,” said Mrs Minton. “I’ll fix you up some supper.”
“That’s not—”
Mrs Harper was responsible for the food, and Adeline was more than capable of fixing herself something. It did not seem proper for the housekeeper to be attending her.
“It’s the least I can do. Come, dear. I won’t have you hungry.”
Mrs Minton took the tray herself as they swept from the room, down towards the kitchens. Everyone had retired for the night, back to their own rooms or the servants’ parlour at the back. Mrs Minton rummaged about the cupboards, finding a bit of bread, a hunk of smoked ham, some goat’s cheese and ripe tomatoes. Adeline dug in, suddenly famished, trying not to think of Dimitri’s barely touched plate, and the days where food turned to paste in her mouth.
“I know he can be difficult,” Mrs Minton started, watching Adeline polish off the tomatoes, “but…”
“He’s worth it?”
Mrs Minton didn’t answer that. “He was a sweet child,” she said. “Sweet and cheeky! Used to sneak in here and steal the cook’s apple tarts and fill vases with frogspawn. Not as a cruel joke, but just because he wanted to watch them grow. He used to bring his mother flowers, coming to me for ribbons for them. He brought me flowers sometimes, too…” She paused for a moment, eyes misted over. “Not many of them remember him from before. They were too young, or worked in other parts of the house, but I’ve been the housekeeper for thirty years. I was born in this house, like he was. Hughes will tell you he was a rascal even before, but he was just… just a child. He didn’t deserve this.”
Adeline’s tongue felt tight, but she managed to dislodge it. “Most of us don’t deserve the misfortunes that befall us.”
“True.” Mrs Minton looked at her steadily. “He doesn’t scare you, does he?”
