The ride back to Lane Manor was a blur to Clark. Likewise, he barely remembered as Samuel and Lois went about their few tasks in the town. He'd have thought a lord would be inclined to send a servant to do such menial tasks, but Lois had explained that she and her father always tried to take advantage of the weather while it was still nice out. Going into town together was something they'd always enjoyed doing together for as long as she could remember. Clark's heart felt lighter as he rode beside their carriage on Merlin, ecstatic to still have his trusted old friend with him.
"It'll all be all right," he whispered to the stallion as they rode. "We may be servants now, but at least we won't be mistreated. Or starved. Or left for the elements to end us."
And we'll get to know Lois better.
The whirlwind continued once they reached Lane Manor. Clark helped Frederick to get the horses settled. It did his heart a world of good to see Merlin housed in a proper, warm stable with plenty of oats and water to fill his belly. The horse settled right in, immediately getting to work on ending his hunger.
"Good boy, Merlin," Clark told him, with a pat on the horse's back.
Lois volunteered to give him the grand tour of the house. His head was soon swimming, though he tried valiantly to keep everything straight in his head. Lois noticed and assured him that she knew it was a bit overwhelming, but that the rest of the staff would be able to help him out no matter what he might need. Finally, she showed him to the room that now belonged to him. It was across the courtyard from the stable, a fact which comforted him. It reminded him of home, in a way, to be close to the animals.
"Do you like it?" she asked, as he stood in the middle of the room, taking it all in.
"It's wonderful," he said in awe. "My whole house could have fit inside here."
It was true. Though the room wasn't tremendous, his tiny farmhouse had been just the kitchen, his room, and that of his parents. After all, it had only been the three of them. They hadn't needed much room. None of the six generations who'd lived in that house had needed much room. Few of them had been blessed with many children, and those who had, had suffered from a high rate of infant mortality. The three tiny rooms had been enough for their limited needs.
"I love it," he continued. "Thank you, milady."
Lois shook her head. "It's the least I can do. I'm so sorry about everything that's happened since you escorted me home a few nights ago. I only wish I could do more."
"You've done more than enough, milady. Because of you, I...I have a future to look forward to. If you and your father hadn't taken me in...paid for me...I don't know what I would have done."
"You know, this might sound insane, but I feel like it was somehow meant to be. That our paths have been crossing so often lately for a reason. I feel like you are meant to be here, living in this house," Lois admitted, blushing a bit as she spoke.
"Perhaps it was, milady," he allowed.
Lois nodded. "I will leave you some time then, to get yourself adjusted to your new home. I've instructed some of the other staff to bring you fresh clothing and a hot bath."
"Thank you, milady."
"And Clark?"
"Yes, milady?"
"When we are alone, you may call me Lois."
"Yes, milady...ah...Lois."
It was difficult for him to speak the name aloud to her. It went against every bit of his upbringing. He was never, ever supposed to call a lord or lady by their first name. Such a mistake could earn a person a flogging or worse, if the wrong noble overheard.
Lois didn't seem to notice his discomfort. Or if she did, she didn't comment on it. With a swish of her skirts, she was off again, leaving Clark all alone in this strange new world. He set to work examining everything - the nightstand, the closet - empty for the moment - the candles around the room, the basin of water where he could freshen up, the empty chamber pot, the polished mirror on the dresser - also empty, until spare clothing could be brought to him - the windows looking out over the courtyard and stable, the feather bed - so different from the hard, straw-filled mattress he was so used to sleeping on.
Soon, the maids arrived with spare changes of clothing. Clark felt the material as a hot bath was drawn for him. The fabric, like everything else about Lane Manor, exuded luxury and comfort. He could hardly wait to trade his worn, nearly threadbare clothing for the new shirts and pants Lord Lane had bestowed upon him. When the bath was ready, he allowed himself to soak in the hot water. He felt his unease and fears falling away along with the dirt and dried blood that had clung to him like a second skin.
He could be happy here, he knew for certain. He would be, as long as Lois was with him.
Once he was presentable - which included one of the maids sheering off his dirty, unkempt black locks into a short, neat haircut - he went out to investigate the stable further. He found Frederick to be an agreeable man - quick to laugh and joke - and an extremely knowledgeable groom. He learned a lot in those few hours - more than he'd ever anticipated learning on his first day on the job. For his part, Frederick was more than happy to answer Clark's questions and pass down everything that he knew to the younger man. He seemed excited to teach his replacement and eager to retire to the cozy cottage where his daughter, son-in-law, and three grandchildren lived.
When it was finally time for Clark to retreat back to his room for the evening, he was feeling tired but elated. He wondered what his parents would have said about the recent upheaval in his life. He knew they would have hated losing the farm. His father had been born there and the fields of crops were his passion. But he also couldn't help but to think that Jonathan would have approved of the family Clark now worked for. He had to admit it to himself - if there was one family to belong to as a servant, the Lane family was it. Everyone had welcomed him warmly when Samuel had announced to them all that Clark was taking over as stable master. In particular, Lucy had seemed thrilled. She'd also seemed to be doing well with her broken leg, as James wheeled her about in a high backed wheeled chair, the likes of which Clark had never seen before. Even James had seemed to approve of Clark moving into the large manor.
"Maybe my fate is finally changing for the better," Clark said in a barely-there whisper as he laid on the feather bed for the very first time.
A moan of contentment escaped him as the bed cushioned his body. He grabbed the feather pillow and pulled it under his head. In all his life, he'd never known such comfort and luxury. It all felt like a dream and part of him was afraid it would end and he'd awaken to find himself hungry, cold, and alone in his barn.
"I can't believe people live like this all the time," he whispered in awe. "If this is how the servants live, I can't imagine what Lord Lane and his family have in their chambers." A wave of guilt rolled over him like a storm cloud. "I wish you could have seen this, Dad, Mom. I know I'm not a free man anymore, but it seems unfair that I should get to experience all of this - a soft bed, a sizable room, a full belly - when you worked so hard all your lives only to live with having only the barest of necessities."
He pushed himself off the bed and looked out the window into the night. "It doesn't seem right when I'm the one who messed up. I wasn't there to protect you when you needed me, Dad. I couldn't do anything to help you either, Mom. But here I am, living in a nobleman's home, gifted with fine clothing and a dream job working with some of the finest horses I've ever seen." He sighed. "You both would have loved it here, I think." He fell silent for a moment, staring out into the dark, seeing nothing, not even the reflection of his own face in the glass. "I really miss you both. I always will."
He left the window and paced the floor, unsure what to do next. The fact was, he was lonely. He missed the fireside talks with his father. He missed the stories his mother used to tell him when he was a young boy. He didn't even have a knife or wood to relieve some of his loneliness by working on his carvings. He supposed he should sleep - and he was tired - but he didn't quite feel ready to go to bed yet. He sat on the bed, suddenly gloomy.
A knock at his door pulled him out of his thoughts.
"Clark?"
"Milady?" he replied, more to himself than anything else. He went to the door and pulled it open. "Milady?" he repeated in surprise.
"I hate to bother you, but can I come in?" she asked, a bit sheepishly.
"Absolutely," Clark said breathlessly, as the woman of his dreams walked into his room.
"How was your first day here?" she asked with genuine concern as she perched on the edge of his bed, down near the foot of it.
"Fantastic," he replied enthusiastically, taking his cues from her and sitting in the middle of the bed, his legs dangling off the side. "I can't thank you enough for the opportunities you and your family have given me."
Lois studied his face for a moment. "Then why do you still look so sad?" she asked gently, reaching out and cupping his cheek with one small hand.
Electricity shot through Clark's body at the contact. "I'm just a little homesick, that's all. Or...well...I guess that's not quite right. I...I miss my parents. I'm not used to being alone, mil...Lois." He corrected himself at the last second, remembering that Lois had asked him to use her name in private.
Lois nodded in understanding. "I see. I can't imagine the upheaval in your life lately. Maybe this will help ease some of the loneliness." She handed him the book she held in her other hand. "I remembered you said that you liked the King Arthur legend. I thought you might like a copy of it."
Clark took the book and turned it over in his hands. It was a beautifully bound edition, with gold foil on the edges of the pages.
"Thank you, Lois. I appreciate the thought but I can't accept this."
"Why not? It's a gift."
He hung his head, feeling about ten inches tall. "I can't read, milady."
"Oh...Oh!" she cried, her hands flying up to cover the shocked expression on her lips. "I'm so sorry. I didn't even think..."
Clark smiled to put her at ease. "It's okay. It's just...my family...none of us ever knew how to read. We were simple country folk. We never had the money to buy things like books anyway, even if we had learned to read."
"Did...did you ever regret not learning?" Curiosity rang in Lois' voice.
Clark had to stop and think about it for a minute. It wasn't something he'd ever really thought about.
"I'm not sure," he finally confessed. "I guess I never really thought about it like that. I never really had a need for it. Farm work filled my days and my family and I would spend all evening talking, telling stories, singing songs. And eventually I picked up wood carving. There was never really a void in my life that I felt like reading could have filled."
"And what about now?"
Again, he paused to turn the question over in his mind. "Now, yes. I wish I had learned. Reading and writing has its practical uses. It certainly would have helped in keeping track of the crops, and what we bought and sold."
"Then I shall teach you," Lois declared with a grin. "We'll use King Arthur as our starting point. It's a great book to read aloud."
"What about your father and mother?" Clark asked, an ingrained ripple of fear creeping up his spine.
Lois frowned. "They already know how to read."
"I meant, what would they say about you...well...hanging around me and teaching me how to read?" Clark clarified.
"Most of the servants can read and write a little. I can't see him objecting to you learning too. Why are you so afraid?"
"Lord Luthor...he...he hates the idea of educated peasants. Someone like me, learning to read, would have enraged him."
"My father is not Lord Luthor," Lois said with a kind smile.
"Perhaps you should ask him first," Clark countered anyway, unconvinced. "I don't want you to get in trouble on my behalf. But if he is all right with it, I would very much love to learn."
"Good. I'll talk to him first thing in the morning."
"Thank you."
Lois looked around the room for a moment. "Is there anything else that would help make this place more comfortable for you?"
"It is more than enough," Clark replied.
"There must be something."
"Well," he hedged, his words coming slowly. "There is one thing. For years now, I've spent my evenings making those wooden animals, like the ones you bought from me. I would like permission to keep doing so."
"Of course you can! I would hate to see such talent go unused," Lois said, sounding shocked that he would even need to ask such a thing.
"If milady...if you would be so kind...I have no tools and no wood. Everything I had was lost to Lord Tempos' marauders."
"You shall have as much wood as you need for as long as you want to keep making your animals," Lois declared. "And I shall have a selection of knives brought to you to keep."
"Thank you, Lois. You have no idea what that means to me. It's such a part of me, creating those figurines. I can't imagine how incomplete I would feel without being able to continue."
"You do excellent work. I treasure that little hawk you gave me," Lois admitted.
"It was an honor to give it to you," Clark answered. "And if there are any other animals you'd like me to make you, you have but to ask it of me and I will do my best."
Lois smiled. "I appreciate the offer."
"Lois?" Clark asked after a brief, comfortable silence fell over the room. "May I ask a question?"
"Of course," she allowed.
"I'm not complaining, mind you. Far from it. But...why? Why all of this?" he asked, gesturing about the room.
"I'm not sure what you mean," she asked, mystified by his incomplete question.
"I'm a stranger to you. You owe me nothing. I am just a poor farmer and slave, yet you and your family have treated me...well...almost like a prince. The lavish living chamber. The job of stable master. Teaching me how to read. All of it. I don't deserve any of this."
Lois studied his face for a moment before responding. "You don't give yourself enough credit. Yes, you and I are from different worlds. But there's something about you. Something I can't quite put my finger on. We don't know each other very long, but I feel like I know you."
Clark didn't comment. He couldn't. What was he supposed to say? That he knew exactly what she meant because he was hopelessly in love with her?
"I know this sounds insane," Lois continued. "But I feel this...this connection with you. I've never had a friend like you."
Clark couldn't help the smile that crossed his lips or the eyebrow that arched of its own accord.
"Friend?" he asked, almost in disbelief.
"Well...yes. Don't you want to be friends?" she asked guardedly.
"More than anything," Clark allowed himself to confess. "In all my life, no one has ever treated me half so well as you. And I don't mean all the things you and your family have given me," he said, waving off any ideas she might have that he wanted to befriend her for the things she'd given him. "I mean...I feel like...with you...for the first time in my life, someone has seen beyond what I am. A pauper. A farmer. I feel like...like you see me for me. For who I am. You've always spoken to me like you and I are equals. Like I'm not beneath you or unworthy of being acknowledged, the way most nobles have always treated me."
"I think I know what you mean. I feel like most of the noblemen I've met in my life have only ever looked at me and wondered how to woo me, to ally themselves with my family. But you? You never looked at me like that. You looked at me with honest friendliness. It's made me feel...normal. Like I'm finally being seen as a real person, and not as a prize to be won. I guess we both want to be seen for who we truly are."
Clark chuckled, for what felt like the first time in years, though, in reality, it had only been since he'd arrived home to find his father struggling to stay alive.
"What a mismatched pair of friends we are," he remarked with a smile.
Lois smiled in turn. "Mismatched? No, more like perfectly matched in a lot of ways."
Maybe, he thought, but not perfect enough, or I would wed you and spare you from living under the rule of Lex Luthor.
Lois shook her head after a minute. "I should go and let you rest. Goodnight, Clark."
"Goodnight, Lois."
"For the record," she added as she stood up, "I'm glad to have you here. I think we both need a friend now, more than ever before."
"Me too," Clark breathed in reply. He tried to hand her back the book she'd brought with her. "Here."
She shook her head. "No, keep it. We'll keep it here so I don't need to bring it back and forth every time we have a lesson. Besides, even if you can't read it, there are some beautiful illustrations painted before each chapter. I think, given your eye for incredible detail, you'll like them."
Clark bowed his head. "Thank you. I shall enjoy every moment I get looking at them."
"I hope so. Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
After Lois left his chambers, Clark felt both lonelier but somehow not so lonely as before, all at the same time. He changed into bedclothes and settled onto his bed, laying atop the warm sheets on his stomach. He propped the book up on the pillow and reverently opened the cover. With the utmost care, he turned the pages, delighting in each of the illustrations as he found them. He devoted long minutes to each one, absorbing all the details, marveling in the skill that had gone into each painting. Somehow, it felt as if Lois was right there with him while he gazed at the book.
When he finally crawled beneath the sheets and blew out the beside candle, he drifted off into the best sleep of his life.
To Be Continued...
