When my sister's friend, Nell, had come to fetch me on that fateful day many years ago, saying my sister had made an 'arrangement' for me, I never could have predicted what happened next.
The woman, her warm chapped hand curled around mine, led me to her house where she cut my hair close to my head, gave me trousers and a linen shirt to change into, and told me I had a new name.
"Jeremy Bernt," the woman explained, "was a Baron's son who passed away in the fire on Brooks Street."
I remembered Jeremy. He was my age with shaggy golden hair and loved to throw mud at me and my sister. I hadn't thought about him one time since the fire. Suddenly I felt a little sullen that he, too, was gone.
"-and you, My Dear," the woman went on, handing me a pair of old work shoes, "are going to live as that boy from now on."
"I don't want to. I want to see my sister."
(I was rather stubborn as a girl, if you've forgotten.)
Still, the woman managed to coax me into agreement. Living as a boy wasn't ideal, but once I turned eighteen, I'd be able to inherit the Bernt title.
"You'll be free and happy," the woman insisted. "Things you'll never achieve as a girl without a guardian. Just think of your poor sister."
And I did think of my poor sister.
Every day. Every hour.
When working in the stables felt too tiresome and dirty, I thought of Mari and kept working.
When I watched the young maids with their ribbons and flowers and giggles, I thought of Mari and kept my head down.
I had been working at the Wulfstan Estate for six months, and mostly settled into my new life, when the staff all began preparing for an upcoming party. It was a huge event. So huge that even the stable staff was recruited to help.
Of course, the Wulfstans couldn't have unkempt boys like me appearing in front of their precious guests, so I was assigned to help out in the kitchen behind the scenes.
Despite not really seeing any of the party, it was my first experience with anything of the sort. (The poor, fallen nobility living on Brookse Street never held noble events like that, after all.) And I couldn't believe how many hours it dragged on.
"Don't those people get sick of dancing and eating?" I complained, handing a fresh tray of hors d'oeuvres over to a young maid.
"Chin up, Jeremy!" The girl comforted me. "If you're feeling too tired, just take a little nap in the back left resting room. It's what we all do," she added in a whisper. Then she winked and disappeared back into the ballroom.
I took the maid's advice, and quietly slipped out of the kitchen when the opportunity arose. I wasn't overly familiar with the layout of the Manor—since I mainly worked on the grounds—so it took me a while to find the resting room she had mentioned.
When I finally found the room, I noted that it was small compared to the others and out of the way. Perfect for a servant to catch a small break without anybody noticing.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I collapsed onto one of the two small sofas in the room and was soon fast asleep. After all the extra labor I'd been doing, the nap felt heavenly to my small exhausted body.
But after only a short blissful while, I awoke with a start.
What time was it? How long had I been sleeping? Was the kitchen head looking for me?
I scrambled up to a sitting position, only to notice another boy lying on the sofa across from me. He looked terribly relaxed, with a leg up and arm thrown over his face. Brilliant silver hair covered his head, and he was wearing expensive clothes. More fine and expensive than any I had ever laid eyes on.
"You're awake. You'd better get back to work." The boy's voice mumbled from under his arm.
"Ack!" I jumped and quickly looked away. "Right. I should. Thank you, uh, Lord.."
"That's Young Master to you."
"Eek!" I jumped again, this time folding into an awkward bow. "My apologies, Young Master, I will get back to work right away."
I'd never seen any of the Wulfstan family before. I mean why would I? I was just a lowly stable boy. I knew there was a Marquess and his wife, and they had one son. And now I had just been caught by that son, slacking off in a resting room meant for party guests.
I rushed toward the door, praying he didn't get a good enough look at me to identify me later on and have me fired.
"Wait a moment." The boy still had his arm covering his eyes, but somehow he could sense exactly where I was and what I was doing. "Tell me your name."
"M-my name?" I gulped. My biggest fear was being realized. In a moment of sheer panic, I shouted, "Opal! My name is Opal! Goodbye!" and ran back out to the kitchen.
Was that quite possibly the stupidest thing I could have said in that situation?
Yes.
Do I regret it?
Well, depending on how clingy my lackey is being, I look back on that memory with mixed feelings.
As anyone (except ten-year-old me) could have guessed, the Young Master Wulfstan was smart enough to quickly figure out that there was no stable boy in the estate named 'Opal'. But instead of having me fired for slacking off and lying, or digging into my background and exposing me, he decided to do something else.
You see, Young Easton Wulfstan was a privileged and beautiful child. He was good at everything, loved by everyone, was handed every single thing he could ever want, and was terribly, terribly bored of it all.
And it turned out that a young clumsy stable boy was just the thing to catch his interest.