Sensing the bodyguard's unspoken question, Lloyd offered a wry, knowing smile, tilting his head slightly as if acknowledging Ken's internal analysis. "Don't look so concerned, Ken," he said lightly, his tone suggesting he could indeed read the man like an open book, a feat few could claim. "It's not what you think."
He gestured vaguely back towards the direction of the kitchens and the hidden smokehouse. "I'm not skipping because I disdain study, nor out of adolescent rebellion." He met Ken's steady gaze, his expression turning earnest. "Quite the contrary. I am engaged in a practical application of economic principles. Developing a new product. Creating value. Something," he added, the smile returning, tinged with confidence, "that I suspect even Master Elmsworth, with his focus on profit and resource management, would ultimately approve of. Perhaps even applaud, once he sees the results."
He let the enigmatic statement hang, offering no further details. Let Ken report that back to his father. Let them wonder what 'practical application' the heir was pursuing that could possibly impress the notoriously traditional Master Elm.
Ken absorbed the explanation without comment, his expression reverting to its usual professional neutrality. If he found the claim baffling, he gave no sign. "Understood, Young Lord. I will convey your message to Master Elmsworth." He paused. "Your instructions for my own duties today?"
"Maintain standard discreet observation," Lloyd instructed. "But focus your attention outward. Keep an eye on any unusual activity within the estate, any lingering signs of Rubel's faction regrouping, or," he added grimly, remembering the previous day's encounter, "any hint of… external interest. My current project requires concentration, minimal interruption."
"Acknowledged," Ken confirmed. "External surveillance prioritized. Internal disruption minimized." With a final, almost imperceptible nod, he melted back into the corridor shadows, resuming his role as the unseen guardian.
Lloyd didn't waste another moment. He headed directly towards the kitchens, not to enter the main chaos this time, but skirting around to the rear service areas, near where Jasmin would be finishing her earliest morning tasks.
He found her near the woodpiles, wiping down her butchering tools, her face alight with nervous energy when she saw him approach. The shared secret, the successful creation of the lye, had forged a new kind of bond between them, overriding some of her inherent timidity.
"My lord!" she greeted, offering a quick, less flustered curtsy than before. "Is it… is it time?"
"It is indeed, Jasmin," Lloyd confirmed, grinning. "Phase Two awaits. Did you manage to rest? Today requires focus."
"Yes, my lord! I… I barely slept! Thinking about… the liquid soap!" Her eyes shone with bewildered excitement.
"Excellent!" Lloyd clapped his hands together. "Then let's not delay. To the laboratory!" He gestured towards the hidden smokehouse.
Back within the familiar, dusty confines of their makeshift workshop, the air still held the faint alkaline tang from yesterday. The three trays of curing hard soap sat undisturbed under their sacking covers, slowly undergoing their quiet transformation. But today's focus was different.
"Right," Lloyd began, surveying the remaining jar of tallow and the jug of potent hardwood lye. "Liquid soap. The theory is similar, but the execution differs." He explained again, simplifying, "We need a lye that encourages liquidity, not hardness. Ideally, we'd use ash from softer woods, which contains more of the 'soft fire' – potassium hydroxide. But," he glanced at their limited resources, "we adapt."
"So, we cannot use this lye, my lord?" Jasmin asked, looking disappointed.
"We can," Lloyd corrected, "but we need to adjust the recipe and process. Using this 'hard fire' lye will naturally tend towards solid soap. To counteract that, we need to introduce other factors. More water in the initial mix, perhaps. A different type of fat or oil that resists solidifying. And careful control of temperature during the reaction." He tapped the tallow jar. "Tallow alone makes very hard soap. We need to blend it. Olive oil would be ideal, known for softer soaps. But procuring enough discreetly…" He trailed off, frowning. Olive oil was expensive, imported, its use monitored by the household bursar. "We'll start with just the tallow for now, but use a higher water-to-lye ratio in our solution. It might result in a softer paste rather than a true liquid initially, but it's a start."
Their first task was preparing the fragrance. Last night, guided by moonlight and Lloyd's surprisingly specific instructions, they had gathered a large bundle of fresh, aromatic rosemary sprigs from the estate gardens. Now, Lloyd set about extracting the essential oil.