"Young Jenkins, what exactly is troubling you?"
Their conversation in the antique shop continued. Papa Oliver kept ironing his clothes, his hands in constant motion. When Jenkins didn't answer, the old man asked again:
"Even ordinary nobles have lovers. The romances of the modern court are more dramatic than any novel. What are you so worried about? You're not breaking any precedent or challenging societal morals. While I wouldn't encourage it, it's all quite normal... at least in this day and age."
Even though Jenkins had never brought up Hathaway and Briny, Papa Oliver was well aware of the situation. His perspective was remarkably similar to Alexia's—both saw it as a perfectly ordinary matter for nobles to have lovers.
In fact, this was the prevailing view among most people.
"To be honest, Jenkins, instead of fretting over these things, you should be figuring out which young lady you truly care for most. After all, only one can be your wife. There are so things that aren't really my place to say, but you do lack friends with whom you can discuss such topics..."
Papa Oliver paused, opening the back cover of the tal iron. Inside, steam-driven gears spun rapidly, powering a fan at the rear that cooled the slightly scorched cuff.
"Go after what you want. Be bolder. You may look young, but you live like a peculiar old gentleman. A young man should have a young man's vitality. Go to dances, attend salons, take the young ladies for walks—all of that is excellent."
Papa Oliver nodded, pleased with his own words. He looked over at Jenkins and saw that the young man seed to have figured sothing out.
"So, it's... not immoral."
"As long as you all care for each other, it's not immoral... Oh, great Sage, I never thought I'd hear myself saying such things."
Papa Oliver shook his head and quickly made the sign of the holy emblem over his chest. At the sa ti, he added an admonition:
"Don't tell anyone I'm the one who said this."
"I understand, Papa Oliver."
Jenkins nodded, his mind made up to accept it all. This was no longer his era. Even as he constantly recognized his status as an outsider, he knew he had to be ready to embrace the customs of this world.
If he wanted to truly beco a part of this world, he had to understand what its people considered acceptable. Since Papa Oliver didn't think it was immoral, and the young ladies were all happy with the situation, then he...
Chocolate sank into a deeper level of anxiety.
The custor who had arranged a pickup with Papa Oliver was expected to arrive around eleven o'clock. When Papa Oliver left the shop at half-past six, he told Jenkins that if the custor hadn't shown up by eleven, he was free to close up and go ho.
"I can't stand people who aren't on ti."
Papa Oliver had said as much, adding a few words of caution before grabbing a black briefcase and heading out.
Papa Oliver's departure ant the shop now belonged to the apprentice and his cat, and both man and feline were looking forward to the evening.
"This is my first ti watching the shop so late. It's bound to be interesting!"
Jenkins remarked, and the cat imdiately nodded eagerly, wondering if there would be a late-night snack.
There were no legal working hours in this era, and certainly no companies or factories with fixed closing tis. "Respectable folk," however, generally finished work between six and seven o'clock, the traditional evening hours. Laborers, on the other hand, were at the complete rcy of the factory owners. Countless people vied for unskilled positions that required no education, so no one dared risk losing their job.
After Papa Oliver left, Jenkins began to idly watch the stream of people heading ho from work through the shop window. He patiently waited for his first late-night custor, but after a dozen minutes or so, he abandoned the boring task and decided to find so entertainnt for himself.
Papa Oliver had likely anticipated that Jenkins would soon grow bored, as he had left two thick tos for him in the shop. But Jenkins was in no mood for studying; he wanted to read sothing different.
Papa Oliver's study was on the second floor, and Jenkins was permitted to borrow any of the books from its collection. After all, the forbidden texts were all safely locked away in the secret room beneath the shop.
On the shelves of the second-floor study, amidst the historical and religious texts, were a number of traditional biographical novels. As far as Jenkins knew, Papa Oliver disliked that sort of book—at least, the old man he was now did.
Perhaps these were books Papa Oliver had bought in his youth.
His fingers traced the spines of the books as the cat crouched at his feet, gazing up at the shelves with wide, curious eyes.
Papa Oliver's study was furnished even more lavishly than his bedroom, which was a common trait among the followers of the Sage. Bookshelves covered almost every wall, and Jenkins had never before had a chance to stand here and examine each volu individually.
"'The Detective Knight Biography?' I didn't expect Papa Oliver to have a copy."
With that thought, he pulled out the first volu to check the printing information. It was the edition from five years ago, not the first edition he'd half-expected to find.
He then recalled hearing just a couple of days ago that the next volu in the series was soon to be published, and he felt a surge of anticipation for the new story.
"The Detective Knight Biography" was the most famous novel of the era, beloved by everyone from royalty and nobility down to the rchant class. While it occasionally featured so blush-worthy scenes, that was a common trait of the period's knightly romances; the liberal social atmosphere fostered openness in all aspects of life.
The original owner of his body had a collection of novels, all of which Jenkins had brought with him to St. George Street when he moved from Maidenhaven Road. As he opened the book, mories from the original Jenkins flooded his mind, piquing his interest in the rest of the series.
Sliding the first volu of "The Detective Knight Biography" back into place, Jenkins continued to scan the shelves for a good book to kill so ti.
He was leaning toward a detective story, since he was still in the planning stages of his next book. He wasn't entirely opposed to adapting the plots of classic novels from his past world, but he still needed so original stories of his own. Therefore, studying the writing styles of others was a necessity.
"'Blood Valley?' Sounds a bit grim. Better not to read that at night... 'The Empty Hills?' I've heard of it—a courtly romance masquerading as a detective story... 'The Colour Out of the Stars?' The ravings of a mad occultist. Worthless... 'Over the Mountain?' An autobiography of a ntal patient..."
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