Thank you so much, Sophie, for hosting me
on this stop on my blog tour for The Assistant. I’m thrilled to be here,
and I thought I would introduce everyone to Edward Gardiner’s new assistant.
He’s a bit shy, but he did agree to an interview. Here is the transcript.
~*~
Riana: Good
morning. I am here speaking with Edward Gardiner’s new assistant, Matthew. Do
you have a family name, Matthew? I’m sure our friends would be interested.
Matt: No,
‘tis best you just calls me Matthew, or Matt. I answers to Matt well enough.
One of the things I likes so much about London, is there’s none here to bother
me when I just say my name is Matt. When I’m about in the city, there’s none
what knows I’m the assistant to a fine man like Mr. Gardiner, and they all just
think I’m another errand boy or something like, and I can come an’ go as I
wish.
Riana: Then
I assume you are enjoying your time in London. It must be very different from
Derbyshire, where you grew up.
Matt: Oh,
aye, it is. I rather miss the trees and open spaces of me home, and everybody
here talks strange-like, in so many ways. There’s the nobs, of course, but they
sound the same everywhere. But the common folk…
Riana: Like
you?
Matt:
(smiling) Aye, like me! It’s a very different accent than what I is used to hearing.
But the city is a grand place to explore. There is so much to keep one like me
interested and busy.
Riana: What
is Mr. Gardiner like as an employer? Is he a kind man?
Matt: Aye,
indeed! He is the best of men. Old Mr. Gardiner – that be his father – can be
gruff and stern, but he is not cruel. And young Mr. Gardiner is as kind as can
be. He is mighty fair with his expectations, and never has a bad word to say
about anybody. He is honest as a person can be, and I cannot imagine a better
man for whom to work. I was right lucky to have him find me, and more so that
he offered me this position! I had not the first thought about ever having a
position like this! I am more grateful than anyone might imagine.
Riana: Tell
us about that, if you would.
Matt: I was walking
in the woods… trying to escape, really, from someone what meant me ill. Mr.
Gardiner found me after I had hurt my ankle and could not walk, and saved my
life. He kept me safe and found a doctor to look at my ankle, and he allowed me
to read his books!
Riana: He
must have been surprised that a lad like you had the education to read. What do
you enjoy?
Matt: I must
confess, I like Shakespeare! His
tragedies are most wonderful, but I have a preference for the comedies.
Riana: Do
you, now? That is most unusual for a country-bred boy like you. Which, may I
ask, is your favourite?
Matt: There
is something about Twelfth Night that I loves! The character, Viola,
does not let her circumstances prevent her from seeking to improve her lot.
Instead, she does what she must to forward her desires. I might see myself in
her, how she strides forward even in the face of adversity.
Riana: There
is a lot to admire in that play! But surely, Edward Gardiner did not take you
on as an assistant because of your love of Shakespeare!
Matt: No,
that is true enough. I knows my numbers well, and I can assist him not only
with copying his letters, but with doing the calculations he needs to find his
prices and make agreements with his suppliers and customers. I enjoys the work.
I has never been useful before, and I right enjoys the feeling!
Riana: Ah
yes! Such a gift is rare indeed, and he was a smart man to take you on! Perhaps
a short passage from the tale will shed some more light
on this. Thank you, Matthew, for joining us.
~*~
It had become clear that no business would
be conducted on this particular day. The festival was consuming everybody’s
attention, and the boy’s presence in the room had distracted Edward to the
point that he knew he would not be able to give full due to any negotiations.
Resigned to spending another day still in Derby, he settled down at the desk by
the window to work on some of his accounts. These calculations had to be worked
through at some time, and this moment with its enforced respite from activity
seemed as good a time as Edward would have.
He began with some basic sums, tallying up
what had been sold, what had been ordered, and what still he had to offer, to
keep his ledgers current and accurate. His books of samples lay open on the
desk, with prices and dimensions of the full bolts of fabric listed beside each
swatch of the fine material. Besides the profits accrued through direct sales,
there were commissioned rates to be calculated for some select purveyors, as
well as discounts for some, premium rates for special deliveries for others,
and of course, import tariffs to be calculated for the supplies he expected to
procure once he arrived at the docks at Liverpool. He worked for about an hour,
gradually moving from the simpler figures to more complicated calculations.
Competent at arithmetic but not a great lover of the art, Edward swore under
his breath as he mumbled the figures he needed to manipulate to complete his
account books. “Damn and blast!” he cursed as he scratched out a calculation
made in error, and set about redoing the problem, muttering his figures once
again.
“One hundred and forty eight pounds, six
shillings, tuppence.” a voice said from behind him.
“Eh?” Edward had forgotten the boy’s
presence, and was jolted from the mire of his account books by the soft, high
voice.
“That math you was doin’, sir. When you pay
the fourteen percent tax and then allow for the percent profit you was sayin’,
with the amounts you had, that would be one hundred and forty eight pounds, six
shillings and two pennies.”
Edward turned in his chair to stare
directly at the creature still buried in blankets by the fire. Matt had neither
paper nor pencil, but had arrived at the same figure Edward had just managed
after several lines of jottings and crossing out and curses. “How on earth did
you do that?”
“Sir?”
“Those calculations. How did you do that?”
“Numbers make sense in my head, Sir.”
“You can just hear these figures and do the
calculations? Percentages, multiplications, all of that?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Indeed!” Edward paused, thinking for a
moment.
“Seven times eighteen.” Edward spat out.
“One hundred twenty six, Sir.”
“Thirty four times seventy eight.”
Matt thought for five or ten seconds, then
replied, “Two thousand, six hundred and fifty two.”
“Seven thousand and eighty three divided by
twelve.”
Edward counted silently as the boy closed
his eyes to ponder the numbers. Nine seconds passed. “Five hundred and ninety,
with three remaining.”
And so the back and forth continued for
some minutes, with Edward madly scribbling out sums to check the results that
Matt stated so confidently. All were correct.
“Where did you learn? Even the brightest mind
needs some direction to shine clearly.”
Matt paused for a moment, as if trying to
decide how much to tell, then said, “I sat in lessons with the master’s son and
learned there.”
“I see.” Edward had so many more questions,
but knew they would not be answered this day.
He picked up his ledger and brought it over
to the youngster in the chair, “I assume then that you know your numbers to
read, and your letters.” Matt nodded. “Can you work these out?” He placed the
book in Matt’s lap, and handed him a pencil, watching. Within short minutes,
the boy had completed a set of calculations that would have taken Edward hours
to complete. He would have to check the work, he knew, but an idea was quickly
forming in Edward’s mind.
“Tell me, Matt, and be sure I will not
divulge your secrets, where are you from? Have you a home?”
“No, Mr. Gardiner, I canna say. But you was
right: I have no home now. I was hoping to get to London to find work, but I
cannot go back. I am sore afraid of… of the master.”
“Not the master who let you sit in on his
son’s lessons, surely! That sounds like a fine man.”
“No, sir. Not that master. A new one.”
“Who is worried for you, lad? You must have
a mother or father or siblings who care that you have vanished from their
midst.”
“My father is dead, and my mother is sent
away. All I loved was sent away. There is none left there that cares for me.”
“Well then…” Edward’s voice trailed off
before he resumed speaking a few moments later. “We will leave a note here at
the inn, should anyone inquire after your safety, but I won’t provide
directions. But I have a proposition for you. I assume you can read as well as
work magic with numbers.” Matt nodded. “And write? Here, let me dictate and you
will write down my words.”
He gave some paper and a pen to Matt and
set up the table so the boy could write. He then proceeded to give a short
account of the day’s events. He spoke slowly and carefully, curious as to how
the boy would manage. The result, not surprisingly, was a hastily scribbled but
accurate transcription of the speech. Everything was spelled correctly, and
even with the obvious hurriedness in which the letters were formed, they were
clear and legible. “Write this sentence out properly now,” Edward commanded as
his finger alit on a line from the notes, and the result was presented in a
clear, well-formed hand, perhaps overly careful and slightly unnatural from
lack of practice, but neat and precise.
“You did not learn that behind the barn,”
Edward surmised. “You are full of surprises, Matt. Here is my proposition. You
are unfit to work now, and will be for several weeks, until your ankle heals.
However, you have skills I can use. If you agree, I offer to take you on as an
assistant, to take care of my books and basic correspondence, leaving me more
time to deal with my customers and other matters of trade. I will offer you
room and board in my house in London, and will also pay you a reasonable wage.
We will remain here in Derby until I complete my business dealings, likely the
day after tomorrow, which will give you some time to rest and regain your
strength. Then we will travel to Liverpool, and finally back down to London,
where we can finalize the details of our arrangement. Does this suit?”
I am taking on this challenge on my own, and as well as raising money for the e-library, I am also raising awareness for Fibromyalgia Action UK. Fibromyalgia is a debilitating health condition and one that I have suffered from since the age of 17. 
