Godspeed

Chapter 19

Dinners with guests became a daily affair, and I didn’t know if it was more for their benefit or mine.

Clearly, Jib’s condition was worsening, and I came to believe that Quinn was trying to buoy Jib’s spirits by keeping him as much as possible in the company of friends.

Just before the next dinner, the doctor sent for me.

“Lilibet has taken quite a shine to you,” he announced, striding across the laboratory, arms laden with books. “I am wondering if that might not be a help to her in the near future.”

“Oh?”

“Indeed.”

I waited to see if he would elaborate; if he had any interest at all in indicating why it was that he felt this was so. When he was not forthcoming, I found that as usual it was up to me to fish for whatever information I could catch.

"Why would you think that she's even noticed me?"

Quinn set down the pile of books and stared at me for a long moment. So long, in fact, I wondered if I had truly irritated him this time. But finally he widened his eyes at me just a little, and in as close as he ever came to a teasing tone, he whispered, "Wise Doctor Godspeed knows all. Sees all."

"I don't doubt it," I muttered, absently beginning to pick up the books and file them onto the bookshelves into their correct sections. By this point, I knew exactly where Quinn liked to keep each category of books, in a filing system that was as unique as he was and had absolutely nothing to do with alphabetical order, or even author's names or specialties.

No, Quinn had his own way of doing things, and I hadn't realized how much time I'd spent watching him, how much time I'd spent staring at the shelves on that bookcase, until this moment when I began to put the items where he would have put them without even thinking about it.

Apparently this gave him pause as well, because he looked up, raised a hand in the air as if to ask me what I thought I was doing, but then he stopped. He simply nodded, the closest to a show of approval that I could possibly expect from him. Then he turned toward the stack of leather journals on the edge of the desk, picked one up, and began scribbling in it with his usual speed and intensity.

How curious I was, to ask if he was writing down the fact that I now knew exactly where to add books to his library.

After I finished putting the books away, I noticed a coating of dust had begun to form on top of the case, and I reached for the feather duster that Schuyler kept in the far corner. I picked it up and, without thinking, prepared to use it.

"Don't do that," Quinn snapped, turning toward me suddenly and fairly tearing it from my hand.

"I'm sorry." How stupid I'd been, didn't I realize that the dust being stirred up into the air could likely damage the machinery all around me? Was it any wonder I'd never seen the doctor actually let Schuyler use the duster anywhere near him or his equipment? Was it...

Seeing the look upon my face now, Quinn's countenance altered. It went from the stern look of irritation he'd had a moment earlier to something that bordered upon wonder. It was an expression I was unaccustomed to seeing in him, and it bewildered me.

Not knowing what else I should say or do, again I apologized.

"No need to say sorry…" His voice trailed off as he shook his head and looked down at the duster, still between his fingers. "It's just that you're not a servant in this house. You... you don't do the tidying up."

I felt my cheeks turn from pale to crimson. "Sir?"

"You are a resident here, a—" He seemed to stutter slightly, something I had never heard him do, and could not imagine him doing until this moment. "You... you're not the help. You've no need to earn your keep. By this point, if you know anything of me, I would hope that you would know that."