Alvery continued shoveling the manure into the wheelbarrow, his thoughts far from the task.

Eliza had asked him to spread some of the dung in the gardens at the front of the house to ‘help keep the flowers happy’, and so he had silently nodded and pulled on his boots without more needing to be said.

He was unaware of the worried looks that Eugene and Eliza passed between each other throughout their breakfast.

The guest of the Cremont’s had seemed out of sorts and absent minded ever since returning from his meeting with his friend in town…

And that meant that whatever he had heard or learned must have been bad news, and bad news could mean bad things for them as a result… At least that was the way Eugene thought about it. Eliza on the other hand was more worried about the lifelessness in Alvery’s eyes and the weariness in the slump of his shoulders that she felt had little to do with the farm work they had pressed upon him.

By midmorning, Eliza was making her way over to where Alvery was just about finished loading yet another wheelbarrow load.

“Robin, dear, I was thinking of going in town to grab some bread and tarts from the cafe for Diolla’s Moon, I would love a hand carrying some of the things back if you don’t mind joining me.”

The young man continued shoveling while idly nodding to show he had heard her.

“Sure. I’ll wash up at the pump after I finish spreading this.”

Eliza smiled and bobbed her head in thanks, then turned back and returned to the house.

By the time Alvery had finished the task, and was standing at the pump just outside the courtyard stones, behind the shrubbery, Eugene Cremont was returning from repairing his cart that he’d announced that morning had a cracked axle.

“Ah, Robin, if you’re going with Eliza into town, do you mind bringing my fine boots into Theo Tipping’s shop? You know, the cobbler. The soles could use a bit of restitching.”

Standing up with a bit of a gasp from the cold water drenching his head, Alvery jerked his chin down in agreement, sending droplets falling to the ground. His glasses clasped in his left hand, meant he was blindly squinting in the general area Eugene stood.

This meant that he couldn’t see his host staring at him with a mixture of pity and curiosity.

“If you leave that shirt behind I’ll wash it with my own while you two are gone.”

Alvery slipped his glasses back on his face before answering.

“Thank you, but it’s alright. I know you’re busy.”

Eugene shrugged. “I’ve done enough for today, the air is too thick to work outside for long. All that rain makes it feel like I’m breathing in steam. Leave it on the floor outside your door.”

Alvery opened his mouth to insist he really didn’t need the man washing his disgusting clothes, but the farmer had already made his way into the house for his morning tea break.

Letting out a breath, Alvery admonished that perhaps being a bit more thorough in his cleaning before heading into town might not be a bad thing, and Eliza Cremont most likely would appreciate it if he didn’t look as though he had been born in the pile of dung he had been hanging around.

Stripping off his shirt, he set to giving himself a better cleaning, and was forced to admit to himself that, despite the cold, that it was making him feel moderately better.

Within the hour, Alvery had pulled on his button down shirt that seemed more blindingly white than he remembered it being…

But as he gave himself a cursory glance in the mirror in his room, recognized it was because his skin had darkened a shade or two from his time spent in the sun, and almost surprisingly, he found that there was already more room in not only his trousers, but the shirt as well…

“I thought I’d been eating my weight while here… Didn’t think I’d lost anything,” he murmured to himself, though a small smile briefly graced his mouth.

He still had a bit of a gut, but… he was already looking a lot more like his old self, and as a result, his mood continued to gradually lift from its previous darkened depths.

When Alvery stepped out of his room, his soiled shirt in hand, was greeted by the sight of Eliza Cremont wearing what had to have been one of the finest dresses she owned.

It was a beautiful blue and white, with flowers patterned all over, with a matching belt, and a cream bonnet with a strip of fabric wrapped around that matched her dress. She wore fine white gloves to her wrist, and matching white shoes with a low heel.

Alvery smiled at her. “Pardon my saying so, but you look wonderful.”

Eliza glowed, while Eugene who was seated at the kitchen table with his cup of tea and biscuit stared at his wife with a sparkle of pride in his eyes.

“She was the most beautiful girl I ever saw when we first met, and she’s only ever gotten better looking. You just mind that no big city donkeys start getting any stupid thoughts about my Liza.”

“Oh, Eugene, I’m a grandmother! No one sees me like you do.” While Eliza’s tone had been chiding, Alvery could see that she was blushing.

The same funny feeling in his chest he had had when he’d first spotted the rocking chairs prickled in his chest, but it was overridden by the loving atmosphere between the couple.

“Well, Mrs. Cremont, shall we go to town?” Alvery bowed.

“Oh– The both of you!” Eliza blustered, the smile in her voice all Alvery needed to hear to offer his hand while remaining bowed.

He felt her gloved hand touch his. He could tell it wasn’t made of silk, but he still had to fight a wince when he felt the material snag a little against his callouses as he drew her hand to rest on his forearm. He didn’t want her to ruin her finery because of him.

Straightening, Alvery smiled down at the woman who faced the door, and couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze like a bashful young woman on her first date.

“That was some bow there. Have you worked for wealthy families before?” Eugene asked with a smile and subtle prodding.

While he had been trying to tease Alvery, the young man tensed. Eliza’s former bashfulness fell away as she stared up at her guest; her stare soft, but also filled with questions.

“I’ve not worked for any families of wealth. Mrs. Cremont here just brings the best out of me.” While Robin said the words in the hopes of keeping the joviality of the day going, he knew his cheeks were burning.

Eugene cleared his throat, and exchanged a glance with his wife before tucking back into his teatime meal.

“Well, better be off you two. I don’t think either of you want to try my cooking for dinner.”

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“Oh, he makes an excellent point, come along, dear.” Eliza reached out and opened the door. “And don’t you dare start going back to calling me Mrs. Cremont!”

Alvery laughed, and without much further ado, the two set off for town with the moment of awkwardness already easing away from them.

*

With the first wave of summer vacationers in Aniselle, the cafe bakery that Eliza had intended to buy her goods from was already packed with families and young women at the small round tables. The shop had its door painted a mint green, and had checkered floors to match with pristine white counters displaying their delicacies.

It was a sweet, mouthwatering sight.

However the crowd of smartly dressed young women and their mothers had been enough to encourage Alvery to wait outside while Eliza perused the shop.

He idly wondered about going to The Bookworm’s Kitchen while he waited, but wasn’t sure how long his hostess would be.

“I tell you, Aniselle is going to become obsolete in the next five years. That viscount who owns this territory? I hear he’s talking about building factories here instead.”

Alvery didn’t mean to eavesdrop on the table of six women who sat outside, sipping their teas and coffee with a luxurious three tiered cake stand ladened with treats. However he was trying to stay out of the way of the traffic on the street, and with nothing to do but stand idly about, couldn’t help but overhear everything.

“Oh, Fiona, that’s nonsense. I hear over twenty percent of his income comes from this town,” one of the elderly women at the table chided her companion.

“That might be true now, but look around! There are only a few people in this town under the age of thirty! Most of the original residents are aging, and not enough young families live here because the viscount raised the taxes as high as he could. The original residents were protected by the kingdom’s law pertaining to the capped limit that the taxes could be raised. Which means without there being enough people to afford living here? Aniselle will become a factory town.”

The woman named Fiona who was speaking so earnestly to the group before her appeared to be the youngest one there. She wore a butter yellow high waisted skirt with a fine cream colored corset, and snowy white blouse. The woman to her right shared her dark brown hair and light green eyes, making it easy to guess she was Fiona’s mother.

“Oh my. Pardon my daughter, ladies. She’s been studying at the university in Scarlem for the past year and has become more than a little impassioned.”

The elderly women at the table nodded sympathetically. “It is good to have vigor, Fiona, but you should be careful about how outspoken you are. You never know who might be listening.” The woman on Fiona’s left sniffed while looking down her beak-like nose toward her cup that she was in the process of raising to her mouth.

Alvery knew he shouldn’t, but he risked a small glance at the young woman.

She had a strong jaw, a wide set mouth, but her eyes… they were clear, and sharp.

Fion sighed and slumped back in her seat as the women around her resumed their previous discussions.

“Aniselle disappearing… I don’t know where else I’d go if I lost this little slice of quaint happiness!”

“There are one or two towns around Pastrim that are starting to grow.”

“Oh those towns are being built up by the wealthier military officers who have no sense of charm.”

Alvery was just starting to let his mind wander again, when the women’s voices suddenly dropped to whispers.

“Mother! No!”

“What? He’s obviously a local! We’re just saying he reminds us of the character in the Flirtatious Farmer!”

“Diolla,” Fiona groaned.

The older woman clucked and chortled.

“He’s a mite husky, but they say the husky ones are husband material. Though I say it’s closer to hay rolling material!” The old bitties broke out in fresh waves of laughter.

It was then, with dawning horror, Alvery realized they were talking about him.

“See, Fiona? There is no shortage of young folk here! Shall we ask him on a date for you? There is the dance coming up at the Shottingham’s he could escort you to!”

“Will you- Please! You know he can hear you, right?!” Fiona tried to chasten the women who continued laughing shamelessly.

“Oh, my dear, he’s probably flattered! Though do be careful, there was a performer that worked here years ago… what was her name?”

“Are you thinking of Leonor? The peri woman?”

“Yes! That’s the one!”

Alvery barely resisted the urge to turn and lean closer to their conversation.

“Well that performer, everyone adored. Her performances had the tavern packed day and night. Everyone thought she was a local, but she was just a peri woman as Eunice said, who was abandoned by her troupe. So… have your fun, but keep in mind, it could just be some homeless person wandering around trying to take advantage.” One of the elderly women in a lilac colored blouse with her back to Alvery warned the young woman.

Frowning, Alvery turned this snippet of information over in his mind.

“Peri or not though, she had the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard. Truth be told I’ve never heard anyone that could surpass her, and I’ve sat in the same opera houses as our dear emperor.”

“Well that must’ve been her peri magic, right? You know those people all claim to have been blessed with some gift or another.”

The women tutted dismissively, all save Fiona who seemed rather unenthused with the direction of the conversation.

“I saw that fellow escort an older woman here, and she was obviously not a peri. No, he’s probably some dullard farmer’s son here with his mother. I mean, look at him just staring off at nothing. He may look strong and capable but odds are he can’t understand a quarter of the words we say!”

Alvery resisted rolling his eyes. He was unbothered by their insults. He’d heard worse from far wiser and worthwhile people.

However he wasn’t the only one who had heard them.

“Who do you think you are?”

Alvery’s head snapped around at the breathy, incensed voice of Eliza Cremont who stood holding two neatly folded white boxes behind Fiona.

His hostess bore down on the group of stylish women, and with creeping dread, Alvery recognized that he was about to become involved in a very attention grabbing scene.