Chapter 17 has been posted, and I have other 1k hits! The absolute dream! And finally it's time for me to share my other big cut. This didn't make it to final posting but has some extra info if anyone was curious:
One table roared at some jest, their voices as rough as gravel. I flinched. Beneath the scarred oak table, Oliver brushed his knee against mine, and my chest unknotted enough for me to breathe.
“Thank you,” I said, and he nodded gravely.
I began to reflect. As the sixth child, I would not inherit land from which to derive income by tenancies. I considered my brothers. “Gerard is a lawyer, but that profession is far too competitive and ambitious to suit me. Besides, we should have to reside in Camulod. Hudson is in the military, which suits neither of us. Felton wishes to enter the clergy, but clergymen are expected to marry, which we, of course, shall not.”
“What if we became physicians?” Oliver suggested. “You have an excellent bedside manner.”
I thought of my friend Mr. Bolton. No, it was impossible.
“I cannot bear the sight of blood or suffering. And suppose one day a cake were brought in with an injury? No, we cannot hazard such exposure.”
Oliver nodded and considered further. “What if we were schoolmasters?”
“I am not clever enough.”
“You would make an excellent tutor! You possess great patience and evenness of temper. You might assist me with a small school I could establish upon my father’s land. No more than twenty boys, and we prepare them for university.”
“Oliver… children would exhaust us dreadfully. They are but younger versions of the people we endure at balls. They would need to be gentlemen’s sons for us to secure a proper income, and they would misbehave. I cannot picture you as a severe disciplinarian, nor am I one. They snoop and gossip and that would be dangerous for us if they ever discovered anything.”
He deflated somewhat. “If only we might be estate managers like Stanley.”
“Were you able to persuade your father to grant you part of his estate, what should I be contributing?”
“You would assist in managing it.”
I shook my head. “For this to succeed it must be convincing. I cannot cling to you while bringing nothing to our partnership, like a dependent.”
I heard the muted stamping of the horses in the yard outside. Thus far Oliver had supplied the ideas while I merely rejected them. I ought to have exerted myself more in offering something of my own, but my spirits were weary. I was clutching a book Mr. Fitzgibbon had permitted me to keep, having brought it in absent-mindedly from the chaise.
“A partnership, you say. What if we were solicitors?” His face brightened.
“Men of the law?”
“It is not like what Gerard does. The profession is not so competitive, and there is room to assist others as well. We draft contracts, oversee transactions, and legally administer estates and wills. And partnered solicitors often reside together and remain unmarried, it is perfectly respectable.”
It was the first proposal to which I had not immediately objected, and that delighted Oliver. I considered it with a frown. Nothing about it particularly appealed to me. I had no right to be fastidious at this stage, yet were I to become a solicitor it would be merely a means of livelihood and nothing more, though Mr. Barrington would approve. The thought of the study required already made it seem impossible. Oliver read my expression and his eagerness faded. I hated disappointing him. Seeing him happy had grown almost intoxicating. I attempted to picture ink-stained fingers and dusty law books. It felt safe and respectable, yet too much like surrender. I was making this exceedingly difficult. I felt increasingly certain that I was ill-suited to any profession.
“Well, what do you enjoy?” Oliver asked.
I nearly scoffed. “I enjoy…” I waved my hand dismissively, still holding the book. “…reading.” I paused as a spark caught and flared within me. “Oliver, that is it! What if we were to establish a publishing company? If your father could be persuaded to grant you some land, or the funds to purchase it, we might have a library built and publish books there.” I was astonished as I pictured it. Libraries were such quiet places, not places of social bustle. Indeed, people might converse in a nearby coffee-house but then they would enter quietly to read. It was perfect.
“Managing a library…” Oliver considered it, then smiled. “Well, why should we not attempt it?”
A broad smile spread across my face and a weight lifted from me. Oliver brightened at my happiness. We could not clasp hands, yet beneath the table he pressed his foot over mine.