The Earl's Midnight Visitor

The Earl of Cennanceaster, who was usually refered to as Lord Damien because he still thought of his father as the Earl, paced the corridor above the Great Hall and listened to the slow thunk, thunk of the grandfather clock somewhere below his feet. It was nearly midnight, a familiar time to him.













He had not slept properly for nine months now, not since he had slept in the double bed in the master bedroom. But tonight, for once, he could justify being up late.
"My Lord, if you wish to rest I will wake you as soon as he arrives," Drake called up to him.














"That's quite all right," Lord Damien assured him. But his butler's eyes followed him along the path somewhat anxiously and so he said, "I'll just go finish some letters."
Letters were often what kept him up this late. He found that around this time he was just blurry-headed enough to read the letters, most from tennants, and piece together some kind of response which usually added up to "Figure it out for yourselves." He flipped through through the stash, looking for a thin letter to start with.














None of them were particularly thin, but some of them had been on his desk awhile. After a moment, he resigned himself to a rather grubby-looking one he had got a week or two ago and was cutting it open when Drake opened the door behind him.














"My Lord, there a better lamp in your study for night reading..."
"It's a mess in there."
"I'll clean it out for you, my Lord. But Sir Fredrick is here."
"What?!"
"In the library."
Lord Damien tossed the letter opener onto the tale with a satisfying twang and turned towards the door. "And you bother me about the light!"