The Nobleman's Masterpiece ✔

4 A JOB/A CHORE

"Have a seat," Bradley instructed.

Lydia peered back out the door, catching a glimpse of her would-be E as Joshua tapped on a penlight. The door closed before Lydia could see him use it, but she assumed he was checking the E over.

Bradley busied himself around the office, a fat grin still in place.

"Sorry about starting off on such a shaky foot. Let's talk about a minor contract," he said, tapping on the wall. A fifteen inch panel slid away to reveal a keypad. Lydia knew a safe when she saw one. Bradley leaned in close, and after passing the eye scan, he reached inside. "But twins...I didn't know they were allowed to grow beyond infancy anymore. I'm going to need to consult a higher power for this."

The large book landed with a thud, not because Bradley wasn't careful when he put it down, but because it was too heavy to hold for long. A book, a real life book, with non-replicated paper so old the colors had changed. Though Lydia couldn't be sure, she guessed the thing was covered in leather.

She sat up to make sure. Whatever it was made from, it was certainly something that should be in a museum and not in some middle-aged collector's private safe.

"Twins, twins," Bradley muttered, leafing through the pages with care. "There must be something in here about twins."

Lydia watched on. Everyone around her seemed ecstatic—she felt only dread. Was it really that important? She found that hard to believe, considering how casually the E was handed over.

"Mr. Bradley..." Lydia began. When the man glanced at her and then went back to his search, Lydia cleared her throat. "Mr. Bradley, you said you had a job for me. I...I do know a lot about dance. It's not my preferred choice, you know...given...given the methods used when I learned it. But, I can act, I'm a great actress. The singing...."

"Yes, yes, I understand." Bradley sat up, finally. "I don't blame you with regards to the dancing, but we do need dancers, proper ones. I assume you are good. You'd have to be for... for Abraham to take an interest."

Lydia swallowed down the automatic gag.

"Yes, that's true," was all she could manage.

Bradley sat back in his chair and said, "Listen, child, I really do want to help you. But...dancers are good for the background and nothing more. Acting—especially speaking parts—they don't go to just anyone and the amount of money you'd need or a sponsor...well, I just think it's hard to come by and that you're out of your league right now."

Gritting her teeth to keep them from chattering, Lydia hung her head with a nod.

"Child, you're nineteen," Bradley reminded her. "This is the age when everyone's throwing party after party in the hope of showing their heirs off. Your twentieth birthday should be the biggest event of your life and I haven't seen so much as a blip from your family. The last time I heard from Daphne was years ago when she...made me an offer to ensure you'd have some place to work. But our agreement was from age twenty-one. By then, you would be married and have some notoriety to bring to our theater. Now you show up looking for more—for a job now? I'm not sure what else I can say."

Lydia didn't know what to say either. She was pathetic; in Bradley's eyes, maybe in everyone's. If wanting to work was so bad, what would happen if they actually knew why?

Maybe it was age that caused this man to stick to the same narrative, but Lydia suspected it might be more than just the small hint that she was jeopardizing her mother's final gift to her: a secure job at this theater.

"But you're lucky. An Elemental just fell into your lap. And if his height and hair color means what I think it means, then you've got a rather strong one. That we can work with. Let's see...twins, twins," Bradley muttered.