handle the transition.
Luckily, Jack’s father knew something of being alone in the world, and wrote a friend for help.
He tugged nervously at his cuffs again. They were already beginning to come up short, even though his mother had sewn his Naval College uniform not three months ago. He was already a tall boy, as a first-year cadet towering over most of the second years and even some of the thirds … and in a career where he was constantly told to stand up straight, he could do little to hide it.
When Jack crossed the entrance of Primrose Manor, theForresters’ country residence not five miles from Portsmouth, he had been expecting an inspection. Therefore, for the whole week leading up to this moment, he had been very careful with his uniform. His white pantaloons were spotless—a feat in and of itself for any thirteen-year-old boy, let alone one who had grown so increasingly nervous over the course of the week that he had spilled his food not once, but twice, at mealtimes. But somehow he had managed to keep everything from the top of his hat to the heel of his shoes in good order. Which was of the utmost importance, as he was to meet his possible future patron today.
Jack did not know what a future patron might want to know of him. He only knew that when he finally convinced his parents to allow him to attend the Royal Naval College—a compromise, as it would keep him on land until he was sixteen instead of a midshipman at thirteen—Jackson’s father had written to his old school friend Lord Forrester, and asked him to look in on the boy every once in a while, as he was unable to do so in Lincolnshire. As Jack’s father was always writing to great men asking for patronage for any one of his and Mrs. Fletcher’s charitable causes (for Mr. Fletcher refused to yield to expectation of being a retiring country vicar, instead choosing to involve himself vigorously in the cause of war orphans and widows), Jack thought nothing of it.
He’d expected, at most, a letter from Lord Forrester. Instead, he had received an invitation.
As he was admitted to the hall, he tried very hard not to be awed by the grandeur of the house. But how could he not be? Marble and oak lined the massive room, making even the smallest sound, from his footsteps to a gasp he hadn’t managed to contain, echo across the space. When the butler went to fetch his master, Jack couldn’t help but poke his head around the corner, and peer into an even larger room! Why this one room must have been bigger than his entire house! After a few moments, Jack decided it must be the sitting room, for receiving callers. And there were plenty of places to sit, he thought, making sure to keep his mouth from hanging open. There were dozens of sofas and chairs and things that looked so fine they would surely break if he touched them. He briefly glanced at the ceiling, two stories above. How did the ceilingstay up in so massive a space? Churches had flying buttresses and the like, reinforced columns, but this ceiling just seemed to soar high above.
He wondered for the umpteenth time that week just what on earth was expected of him. Surely, people that lived in a house this intimidating would look down at him as nothing more than … charity.
He was edging his foot into the sitting room, when he heard it. It sounded like a fork striking a glass, but some
how … human. It must have been the echo, he thought, but it almost sounded like a giggle. He immediately straightened to attention. But when no one emerged, his curiosity won out again, and his gaze returned to the sitting room. Where, if he was not mistaken, one of the heavy velvet drapes was twitching.
Unsure if his mind was playing tricks on him, Jack thought it best to ignore the twitching curtain, and instead remain at attention. Surely, that’s what a man like Lord Forrester would want out of a cadet he sponsored. Someone who obeyed the rules, and stayed where he was told, and…
And there was that
Luckily, Jack’s father knew something of being alone in the world, and wrote a friend for help.
He tugged nervously at his cuffs again. They were already beginning to come up short, even though his mother had sewn his Naval College uniform not three months ago. He was already a tall boy, as a first-year cadet towering over most of the second years and even some of the thirds … and in a career where he was constantly told to stand up straight, he could do little to hide it.
When Jack crossed the entrance of Primrose Manor, theForresters’ country residence not five miles from Portsmouth, he had been expecting an inspection. Therefore, for the whole week leading up to this moment, he had been very careful with his uniform. His white pantaloons were spotless—a feat in and of itself for any thirteen-year-old boy, let alone one who had grown so increasingly nervous over the course of the week that he had spilled his food not once, but twice, at mealtimes. But somehow he had managed to keep everything from the top of his hat to the heel of his shoes in good order. Which was of the utmost importance, as he was to meet his possible future patron today.
Jack did not know what a future patron might want to know of him. He only knew that when he finally convinced his parents to allow him to attend the Royal Naval College—a compromise, as it would keep him on land until he was sixteen instead of a midshipman at thirteen—Jackson’s father had written to his old school friend Lord Forrester, and asked him to look in on the boy every once in a while, as he was unable to do so in Lincolnshire. As Jack’s father was always writing to great men asking for patronage for any one of his and Mrs. Fletcher’s charitable causes (for Mr. Fletcher refused to yield to expectation of being a retiring country vicar, instead choosing to involve himself vigorously in the cause of war orphans and widows), Jack thought nothing of it.
He’d expected, at most, a letter from Lord Forrester. Instead, he had received an invitation.
As he was admitted to the hall, he tried very hard not to be awed by the grandeur of the house. But how could he not be? Marble and oak lined the massive room, making even the smallest sound, from his footsteps to a gasp he hadn’t managed to contain, echo across the space. When the butler went to fetch his master, Jack couldn’t help but poke his head around the corner, and peer into an even larger room! Why this one room must have been bigger than his entire house! After a few moments, Jack decided it must be the sitting room, for receiving callers. And there were plenty of places to sit, he thought, making sure to keep his mouth from hanging open. There were dozens of sofas and chairs and things that looked so fine they would surely break if he touched them. He briefly glanced at the ceiling, two stories above. How did the ceilingstay up in so massive a space? Churches had flying buttresses and the like, reinforced columns, but this ceiling just seemed to soar high above.
He wondered for the umpteenth time that week just what on earth was expected of him. Surely, people that lived in a house this intimidating would look down at him as nothing more than … charity.
He was edging his foot into the sitting room, when he heard it. It sounded like a fork striking a glass, but some
how … human. It must have been the echo, he thought, but it almost sounded like a giggle. He immediately straightened to attention. But when no one emerged, his curiosity won out again, and his gaze returned to the sitting room. Where, if he was not mistaken, one of the heavy velvet drapes was twitching.
Unsure if his mind was playing tricks on him, Jack thought it best to ignore the twitching curtain, and instead remain at attention. Surely, that’s what a man like Lord Forrester would want out of a cadet he sponsored. Someone who obeyed the rules, and stayed where he was told, and…
And there was that
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