His Writing Girl

[Tobias Knightly]

Knightly stood over his desk, his hand flatted on it, as he looked over the spread for this week's London Weekly. He personally planned, edited, and cultivated the the news paper each week to make sure it was witty,but serious. Each word cost to print and so his words in in paper needed to be the best. Which was why he was always looking for new things to add and build.

Which was why he had sent a letter to a new potential writer. He had not time to wait for them to come to him. He sought out and persuaded his writers. He used them for their talent and paid them well. In fact he only had two rules--Do not embarrass his paper, and write nothing negative about his mother or which ever play she was currently in.

As such, no one had crossed him yet.

Reaching up to rub his chin, he sighed as he found something he wanted to edit. No one said controling the news was easy.

Mirela Camden

[Mirela Camden]

[attr="class","cbg"]

[attr="class","cbgtop"]

[attr="class","cimg"]

[attr="class","clbox"]

[attr="class","ctopline"]if you dream a thing once or more

[attr="class","cscript"]

❀ it is sure to come true ❀

[attr="class","cline"]

[attr="class","clyrics"]

tag ● Tobias Knightly
notes ● first Mirela post!

[attr="class","cbody"]

Fortune was not the word Mirela would use to describe her current circumstances . . . but oh was it indeed most fortunate that she had just happened to be the one to receive the mail that day. She had not even made it into the house, as she gripped the letter with one hand and the broom in the other. Tucking it under her arm, she opened it, eyes widened as she read it over . . . and over . . . and over again. Until every part of it was memorized. Every stroke of the quill. To say that she was intrigued and curious and, so many other things was truly an understatement. She would have read it over a dozen more times had she sound of the door opening not altered her. Panic stricken for she did not wish for anyone else's eyes upon it, she glanced around her to find somewhere, anywhere to hide this precious paper that may as well be made of gold. Needing to think quickly -- which was not always Mirela's strong suit -- she acted most unladylike as she tucked the paper under her dress and against her bosom.

Just in time as she heard the voice of her brother telling her to hurry up so that she could get started on dinner. Scrunching her face at him -- another unladylike gesture, she glided the broom across the ground, purposely sweeping the dust over his shoes. He jumped back in annoyance and Mirela, withheld a smile. She was far too excited, and nervous to be bothered with her brother's demands. Never the less, she prepared dinner, cleaned up and hurried to her room. When she was certain not to be disturbed she gazed upon her dress. THE dress. Her one and only suitable dress for every woman should have one. It was the last gift her mother had given her and despite its simplicity, she adored it. She hardly slept that night due to anticipation and excitement. And of course nerves! What would the owner of a printing press desire from her?! The eagerness to find out made the hours of the night pass both slowly and quickly at the same time.

Mirela got up incredibly early that morning, cleaning herself, brushing her hair and donning her favourite dress. To complete it, she pulled out a hat that belonged to her mother; another sentimental item. Looking at herself in the mirror she took a deep breath before venturing to the establishment. Upon arriving she was instructed to wait while they announced her arrival to the owner: Mister Knightly. Her foot started tapping as the nervous energy was coming out and the look she received from another worker caused her to abruptly stop. The only way this was successful done was by placing her other foot on top of it which . . . created a rather awkward sitting position. Hearing her name she rose, the letter clutched in her hand as she was led to the room. Mister Knightly . . . Mister Knightly . . . Mister Knightly She shan't forget his name.

Mister Knightly . . . Mist-- Well, hellooo Mister Knightly! Mirela paused after having only taken one step into the room as she started at him. She had expected an elder man; the picture of age and experience having been perfectly formed in her mind. What she found instead was . . . not an old man. Not at all. He was young, and incredibly handsome and she was fairly certain this is what one's heart felt like when it fluttered. "Mister . . . " Blast it all! Mirela's eyes slightly widened with absolute horror! His well formed features distracted her, leaving her in awe and caused Mirela to completely forget his name! "Sir," she quickly corrected, knowing the damage was already done. "I received your letter." To come. And . . . here she was. And there he was. Yes . . . there he was indeed.

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF WW + ADOX 2.0

[googlefont=Dancing Script][newclass=.cbg]width:400px;background:#000000;padding:30px;[/newclass][newclass=.cbgtop]width:400px;height:120px;text-align:left;[/newclass][newclass=.cimg]float:left;width:100px;height:100px;padding:10px;border:1px #aaa solid;[/newclass][newclass=.clbox]float:right;height:100px;margin:15px 5px auto auto;text-align:justify;width:257px;[/newclass][newclass=.ctopline]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:2px;text-transform:uppercase;font-family:verdana;color:#aaa;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript]font-size:23px;margin-top:-3px;font-family:Dancing Script;color:#e5b2ad;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript span]color:#ccc;[/newclass][newclass=.cline]height:1px;background-color:#888;margin:3px auto;[/newclass][newclass=.clyrics]font-size:8px;letter-spacing:1px;text-transform:uppercase;text-align:justify;font-family:verdana;color:#999;[/newclass][newclass=.cbody]font-family:verdana;color:#999;font-size:10px;text-align:justify;line-height:14px;letter-spacing:0.5px;[/newclass][newclass=.cnotes]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:1px;text-align:center;opacity:0.8;[/newclass][newclass=.cred]text-align:center;font-size:6pt;color:rgb(132, 132, 132);letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass][newclass=.cred a]color:rgb(132, 132, 132);font-size:6pt;letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass]

[Tobias Knightly]

Looking up from his spread he glared at the door. What the bloody hell was that tapping? He was trying to think and he damn well couldn't do that if there was someone banging on something. When he demanded to know what that was, he was told it was the new writer he reached out too. "What is she typing out there?" He demanded, but was told she was typing her foot. Rolling his eyes he folded his spread and told them to send her in her.

Once the others left, he stood up and rolled his neck. Finally the woman came in. He paused for a half second in surprise that she was younger then he though. He had assumed the wit came from an older woman, but this girl was . . . not old.

And not witty. His brows folded as he watched her try to remember his name--one that was printed on the damn door. "You are Mirela Camden?" he asked slowly, trying to reconcile the letter he'd read with the chit in front of him. Picking up the letter he had received he glanced at it and then her. Showing it to her by holding it up, he asked again slowly "You wrote this?"

^{Mirela Camden}

[Mirela Camden]

[attr="class","cbg"]

[attr="class","cbgtop"]

[attr="class","cimg"]

[attr="class","clbox"]

[attr="class","ctopline"]if you dream a thing once or more

[attr="class","cscript"]

❀ it is sure to come true ❀

[attr="class","cline"]

[attr="class","clyrics"]

tag ● Tobias Knightly
notes ● excited!!

[attr="class","cbody"]Mirela nodded as she asked if she was she and then he held up the paper. Mirela slightly leaned forward to look at what was written and her surprise grew even more! It had been a simple letter offering advice to a friend who had reached out. Why did he have that?! How did he obtain it?! Why was he showing interest in it?! Or in her?! Mirela was racking her mind trying to understand what was happening here. "Yes Sir," she answered simply, unable to mask the confusion from her tone. "How did you acquire it?" She almost instantly regretted the question, curiosity having prompted her to speak rather than accusation.

She tried to play over the words to ensure there was nothing offensive in them. Granted, they were filled with more bravado than her own verbal words could ever offer. Was the advice somehow linked to him? "I apologize," she added to amend her first question though, she did not entirely retract the inquiry. "But I do not understand how this is in your possession." Why and who gave it and . . . WHY?! She suddenly felt the need to sit so without being formally invited, she seated herself in the chair across from him, with only a desk between the two. It brought her to a closer position than standing near the door and . . . she had to distract herself from looking at him even more intently.

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF WW + ADOX 2.0

[googlefont=Dancing Script][newclass=.cbg]width:400px;background:#000000;padding:30px;[/newclass][newclass=.cbgtop]width:400px;height:120px;text-align:left;[/newclass][newclass=.cimg]float:left;width:100px;height:100px;padding:10px;border:1px #aaa solid;[/newclass][newclass=.clbox]float:right;height:100px;margin:15px 5px auto auto;text-align:justify;width:257px;[/newclass][newclass=.ctopline]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:2px;text-transform:uppercase;font-family:verdana;color:#aaa;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript]font-size:23px;margin-top:-3px;font-family:Dancing Script;color:#e5b2ad;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript span]color:#ccc;[/newclass][newclass=.cline]height:1px;background-color:#888;margin:3px auto;[/newclass][newclass=.clyrics]font-size:8px;letter-spacing:1px;text-transform:uppercase;text-align:justify;font-family:verdana;color:#999;[/newclass][newclass=.cbody]font-family:verdana;color:#999;font-size:10px;text-align:justify;line-height:14px;letter-spacing:0.5px;[/newclass][newclass=.cnotes]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:1px;text-align:center;opacity:0.8;[/newclass][newclass=.cred]text-align:center;font-size:6pt;color:rgb(132, 132, 132);letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass][newclass=.cred a]color:rgb(132, 132, 132);font-size:6pt;letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass]

[Tobias Knightly]

If she yes sired him one more time he was going to ball up the paper and throw it at her. "Mr. Knightly," he told her his name in case she was still looking for it. Though it could be used for respect, he did not enjoy being called sir so often. His past tainted the term and it always felt bitter in his mouth. Knightly did his best to avoid using that term, even to specially toward the nobility.

After finally showing she could produce whole sentences and confirming that she wrote the letter, and asking the logical question of how he came to have it, she walked closer and sat down. As if she owned the place. Knightly paused as she made herself at home, and he felt himself caught off guard. No one just made themselves at home here. The chair was not even meant for guest, it was used for his writers to give reports. After staring at her for a handful of seconds with a lightly confused, annoyed, baffled, look he finally continued.

"The letter has been handed around the city for a few weeks now, and finally made it's way to my mother who shared with with me." He explained, and paused again while deciding if he should show his hand or just seek more information. Letting the silence sit for a moment he made his choice and continued. "The writer of this is witty, and invites the read to think of her as a friend. It encourages the reader to think of her as a friend."

He paused again staring at her. Trying to force his mind to make the connection of the witty woman on the page who he had enjoyed reading, to the young girl making herself at home in his office. "I do not intentionally mean to offend, Miss Camdon, but did someone help you write it?" While his words said he wasn't trying to offend, he did not soften his tone. He made it clear he valued the writing, but wanted to be sure it was her doing the writing.

^{Mirela Camden}

[Mirela Camden]

[attr="class","cbg"]

[attr="class","cbgtop"]

[attr="class","cimg"]

[attr="class","clbox"]

[attr="class","ctopline"]if you dream a thing once or more

[attr="class","cscript"]

❀ it is sure to come true ❀

[attr="class","cline"]

[attr="class","clyrics"]

tag ● Tobias Knightly
notes ● she is so flattered!

[attr="class","cbody"]

Yes! That was it! Mister Knightly! Though she doubted she would have remembered with all else he was saying. To hear that the letter had been handed around made her suddenly feel rather . . . self conscious. While she wrote it with confidence and sureness, to know that so many eyes had fallen upon it was, nerve wracking. Was she in trouble for something written in it? Should she be apologizing for it? His mother found it?! . . . She did not know his mother. But the thought of it was, worrisome. She parted her lips to start bringing to voice all these questions but he continued with compliments that just made her freeze with surprise. Belatedly realizing that her lips were still parted and awkwardly closed them as his words processed in her mind. He thought she was witty? He thought her words were inviting? He thought it made her relatable as a friend? She had never heard such praise from a stranger and she was rather . . . surprised! And honored! Flattered! Touched! So many different emotions raced through her and she had to wonder if he was truly speaking in earnest.

"Yes!" She almost immediately answered when he asked her if it was truly her who had written these words. She hardly realized the potential offense in the question for she was too struck by the compliments he offered her. "They were solely written by me and . . . I did not intend for anyone else to read it." She was not sure why she was saying that; perhaps because there was an apology in her words for what she wrote, even though he complimented them. Mirela was just, overwhelmed with this feeling of . . . flattery. Hubris was most unattractive but there was a sense of pride within her that she could not deny. "But I swear to you that they are my own. And I, presume this was written by you?" She both stated and asked as she held up the letter that she had written to him. "I fear I still do not understand the significance of this letter." She paused for a moment. "My letter that is, not yours. I understand the purpose of yours but what importance does mine hold?" She still was not connecting things together and well, she was still basking in his compliments and was trying to focus on the present rather than letting her mind simply soar with elation.

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF WW + ADOX 2.0

[googlefont=Dancing Script][newclass=.cbg]width:400px;background:#000000;padding:30px;[/newclass][newclass=.cbgtop]width:400px;height:120px;text-align:left;[/newclass][newclass=.cimg]float:left;width:100px;height:100px;padding:10px;border:1px #aaa solid;[/newclass][newclass=.clbox]float:right;height:100px;margin:15px 5px auto auto;text-align:justify;width:257px;[/newclass][newclass=.ctopline]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:2px;text-transform:uppercase;font-family:verdana;color:#aaa;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript]font-size:23px;margin-top:-3px;font-family:Dancing Script;color:#e5b2ad;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript span]color:#ccc;[/newclass][newclass=.cline]height:1px;background-color:#888;margin:3px auto;[/newclass][newclass=.clyrics]font-size:8px;letter-spacing:1px;text-transform:uppercase;text-align:justify;font-family:verdana;color:#999;[/newclass][newclass=.cbody]font-family:verdana;color:#999;font-size:10px;text-align:justify;line-height:14px;letter-spacing:0.5px;[/newclass][newclass=.cnotes]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:1px;text-align:center;opacity:0.8;[/newclass][newclass=.cred]text-align:center;font-size:6pt;color:rgb(132, 132, 132);letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass][newclass=.cred a]color:rgb(132, 132, 132);font-size:6pt;letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass]

[Tobias Knightly]

Her lips parted while he spoke, and remained so. As charming as a picture that she made--he did worry she was not the same witty woman who had captivated him on the paper. Then she spoke (and finally began to sound like she could string more words together) and explained her confusion. Fair enough, he was beating the dead horse by asking her the same question in repeat. Time would tell if she was really the women who had written the letter. He'd know her writing the first time she wrote anything.

"Miss Camden, I am the publisher of one of the best news papers in London." There was pride in his tone, but it was spoken more as one would state a fact. Mud was brown. Grass is green. The king is mad. His paper was the best. "In order to keep it that way, I am always on the look out for talent to add to my pages, and this letter is going to be published in the paper this week. If popular, it will be become a weekly column." If she was indeed the woman.

He also did not ask. He was not going to ask and bribe and talk her into joining his paper. He was going to tell her she was hired, and see if she could write more to please the masses. He had more to say, but he wanted to gage her reaction toward his 'offer' by giving her a moment to process.

^{Mirela Camden}

[Mirela Camden]

[attr="class","cbg"]

[attr="class","cbgtop"]

[attr="class","cimg"]

[attr="class","clbox"]

[attr="class","ctopline"]if you dream a thing once or more

[attr="class","cscript"]

❀ it is sure to come true ❀

[attr="class","cline"]

[attr="class","clyrics"]

tag ● Tobias Knightly
notes ● she is so flattered!

[attr="class","cbody"]

Mirela was trying to follow along with everything he said . . . but the more he spoke -- the more he revealed, the more of a blur it all became. Talent . . . published . . . weekly . . . Mirela was doing all she could to keep calm and composed. But as he finished his last sentence, she could not help the small squeal of excitement that involuntarily left her lips. Immediate realization followed with her raised hand covering her mouth as if to stifle the unattractive sound. The excitement over this was evident within her gaze though as her eyes widened and her other hand casually rested upon her lap, gripping the fabric of her dress to help channel the energy into something . . . other than squealing. When she was finally able to muster enough composure, she dropped her hand from her lips and spoke.

"OH thank you Sir! Thank you so very much!" This was without a doubt, the most exciting thing that had happened to her in her entire life! "This is such a great honor!" That someone would think anything she wrote -- or did -- was worthwhile. Worth reading. Worth bringing attention to. Her life was spent as a wallflower, a now spinster . . . her advising words based on observation and instinct rather than any real experience. So it hear that it was worth something, anything . . . was beyond honoring. "Does . . . does this mean you will expect me to write every week, should it do well?" She just had to clarify because somehow, it seemed too good to be true! "I would not know how to gain more writers so that I may offer such response." Advice. Who knew! That her given advice would be intriguing to a man such as himself! This was truly, one of the best days of her life.

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF WW + ADOX 2.0

[googlefont=Dancing Script][newclass=.cbg]width:400px;background:#000000;padding:30px;[/newclass][newclass=.cbgtop]width:400px;height:120px;text-align:left;[/newclass][newclass=.cimg]float:left;width:100px;height:100px;padding:10px;border:1px #aaa solid;[/newclass][newclass=.clbox]float:right;height:100px;margin:15px 5px auto auto;text-align:justify;width:257px;[/newclass][newclass=.ctopline]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:2px;text-transform:uppercase;font-family:verdana;color:#aaa;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript]font-size:23px;margin-top:-3px;font-family:Dancing Script;color:#e5b2ad;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript span]color:#ccc;[/newclass][newclass=.cline]height:1px;background-color:#888;margin:3px auto;[/newclass][newclass=.clyrics]font-size:8px;letter-spacing:1px;text-transform:uppercase;text-align:justify;font-family:verdana;color:#999;[/newclass][newclass=.cbody]font-family:verdana;color:#999;font-size:10px;text-align:justify;line-height:14px;letter-spacing:0.5px;[/newclass][newclass=.cnotes]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:1px;text-align:center;opacity:0.8;[/newclass][newclass=.cred]text-align:center;font-size:6pt;color:rgb(132, 132, 132);letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass][newclass=.cred a]color:rgb(132, 132, 132);font-size:6pt;letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass]

[Tobias Knightly]

Knightly watched as she squeaked. His brown furrowed again as he had not heard a adult woman squeak before However he continued and then she began thanking him. He stayed silent to let her finished. He did not need thanks, he needed results. He needed readers reading his paper. That would be thanks enough. Reward enough.

"Weekly." He controlled, "Readers will write in to you here, and the letters can be deliver to you or picked up by you. Each week you you pick a few of them to answer, and the letters and replies will be published." This was truing out to be easy. Most writers first asked about payment before they asked about other things.

"Your article will be due a few days before publishing, and I will edit. You will then be paid. Payment can be discussed once we see it does well. For now it is a trail run to see how the readers engage with you." Knightly did not often doubt in his choices for things to put in, but he was still trying to work out if she was a risk or reward.

^{Mirela Camden}

[Mirela Camden]

[attr="class","cbg"]

[attr="class","cbgtop"]

[attr="class","cimg"]

[attr="class","clbox"]

[attr="class","ctopline"]if you dream a thing once or more

[attr="class","cscript"]

❀ it is sure to come true ❀

[attr="class","cline"]

[attr="class","clyrics"]

tag ● Tobias Knightly
notes ● she is so flattered!

[attr="class","cbody"]

Weekly! She knew he had said it before but hearing it again just made it all feel more . . . real. As if this was actually happening! That this was happening to her! For so long her life had felt like a mundane endless string of tedium. Nothing to look forward to, no hope of escape -- not even through marriage. And now . . . now, he was giving her a reason to get up in the morning! A reason to be excited! Something to look forward to! Something to work towards! It was all so incredible and she wondered if he realized just how much this meant to her. Perhaps not, but she would reveal it through her diligence and dedication to the role he was offering her -- should all go well. Mirela knew it was dangerous to get her hopes set too high. She was even still wondering if this was all some cruel joke. "Payment?" She repeated curiously, as if she did not understand the word when in actuality, she had not expected it.

She had been so overjoyed over the prospect of simply contributing that she had not even considered payment! She would get paid? Her words were worth coin? Foolish that she had not thought of it but her motivations had clearly not been monetary. "Yes . . . of course . . . payment," she quickly attempted to rectify though she knew a subtle woman she was not. "I will not let you down Sir!" She said excitedly. "I can retrieve the letters from here." Not just as a convenience but also, to conceal this from her own family. They could not know of it for they would not approve and disallow her to participate in any way. "Is there . . . anything I need redo for the next issue?" She asked, referring to the paper he had possession of, and curious to know if she need make any amendments to it.

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF WW + ADOX 2.0

[googlefont=Dancing Script][newclass=.cbg]width:400px;background:#000000;padding:30px;[/newclass][newclass=.cbgtop]width:400px;height:120px;text-align:left;[/newclass][newclass=.cimg]float:left;width:100px;height:100px;padding:10px;border:1px #aaa solid;[/newclass][newclass=.clbox]float:right;height:100px;margin:15px 5px auto auto;text-align:justify;width:257px;[/newclass][newclass=.ctopline]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:2px;text-transform:uppercase;font-family:verdana;color:#aaa;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript]font-size:23px;margin-top:-3px;font-family:Dancing Script;color:#e5b2ad;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript span]color:#ccc;[/newclass][newclass=.cline]height:1px;background-color:#888;margin:3px auto;[/newclass][newclass=.clyrics]font-size:8px;letter-spacing:1px;text-transform:uppercase;text-align:justify;font-family:verdana;color:#999;[/newclass][newclass=.cbody]font-family:verdana;color:#999;font-size:10px;text-align:justify;line-height:14px;letter-spacing:0.5px;[/newclass][newclass=.cnotes]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:1px;text-align:center;opacity:0.8;[/newclass][newclass=.cred]text-align:center;font-size:6pt;color:rgb(132, 132, 132);letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass][newclass=.cred a]color:rgb(132, 132, 132);font-size:6pt;letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass]

[Tobias Knightly]

She seemed surprised about payment, and that made his brows raise slightly. Did she not expected to be paid? Or had she thought she'd have to argue about it since she was a woman? Knightly knew that he was slightly more progressive then some men when it came to women's ability to earn and manage coin. Mostly because he was raised by only his mother after his father had died. He cared not how Miss Camden saved or spent her coin as long as she kept writing, and she did nothing to mess with his paper.

When she promised not to let him down, he literally waved her off with his hand in the air. Thought also because she again called him sir. "Miss Camden, my name is Knightly. I know formalities dictate formality, but as I spent most of my time yelling at my employees I don't care about polite. I care about the job. Knightly, or Mr. Knightly if you rather. As long as your letters do well, it will be thanks enough."

They needed to discuss payment, and due dates. "No edits on this one. I made them before you arrived." Because he was not planning on her saying no. "It will be in this week's paper. Page 6 for now. If it grows in popularity then I might moved it from the back to page 4. Papers are published on Sundays to go out with the return of the weekday workers on Mondays. Anything you plan to submit to me will be due before I lock this building up on Thursday night. You will be paid that day in coin too." He paused to let her take in it before they spoke of how much coin and his rules for his writers.

^{Mirela Camden}

[Mirela Camden]

[attr="class","cbg"]

[attr="class","cbgtop"]

[attr="class","cimg"]

[attr="class","clbox"]

[attr="class","ctopline"]if you dream a thing once or more

[attr="class","cscript"]

❀ it is sure to come true ❀

[attr="class","cline"]

[attr="class","clyrics"]

tag ● Tobias Knightly
notes ● she is so flattered!

[attr="class","cbody"]

Mirela let out a small laugh when he spoke of yelling at his employees . . . though she abruptly silenced herself, raising her hand to her lips. She belatedly realized that he may not be kidding. That he may actually yell at his employees for . . . he did not seem like the overly joking type. But nor should he be for she knew that this was a professional meeting! She should not expect him to act as if they were friends -- though the thought was a very enticing one. A very, desired one. "Yes Sir," she quickly stated . . . only after realizing that her statement of confirmation was in fact, contradicting what she was saying yes to! "I mean, yes Mister Knightly," she said knowing that she may have very well made a fool of herself now. What if he threw her out on her account to be so daft?! "I understand," she added with what she hoped was a more, coherent respond. As if to prove that she was not unintelligent or possessing some form of mental affliction that caused her to act so stupidly. Though she had to admit, her attraction to him and infatuation may very well be playing a part in her struggle to communicate.

He then told her that he had made the edits and . . . a question entered her mind that she hoped would not be too bold of her to ask. "May I see the edits you made?" She asked. It was not arrogance or any disbelief that there were required edits. She was fairly certain there were many! She was quite, inexperienced in this. Though to avoid misunderstanding, she elaborated. "I ask only so that I may know in which areas I can improve my writing in. So to hopefully save you too much trouble in the future, if all goes well," she added with a light smile only half joking at her latter words. She wanted to learn. She had learned to read and write later in life and was naturally self conscious of it. For this was the best newspaper in London! There were high standards to maintain! She was not being judged on solely content, but the ability to writer with proper grammar as well. "I wish to learn," she added, summing up her thoughts and earlier statements.

He told her of how she would be on page 6. Page 6! And to hear that she could be bumped to an earlier page?! Did he hold that much faith in her? Or was this standard talk he gave any new employee? Her desire to believe the former had her believing it. That he had faith in her! An unfamiliar feeling yet most certainly not an unwelcome one. She nodded along in understanding, taking in all his words and trying to focus on them while she felt herself bursting with so much excitement. "Yes Mister Knightly," she stated obediently to acknowledge his words. "And, you said earlier it would be fine to retrieve the letters from here . . . should this article be a success, which day would I be able to come to collect them?" She had to plan out her day. She had no intentions of telling her brother or sister in law about this. She would need to sneak out to pick things up and drop things off. He seemed to be fairly, meticulous in his dealings so she wished to ensure that she followed with his schedule in adjusting her own.

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF WW + ADOX 2.0

[googlefont=Dancing Script][newclass=.cbg]width:400px;background:#000000;padding:30px;[/newclass][newclass=.cbgtop]width:400px;height:120px;text-align:left;[/newclass][newclass=.cimg]float:left;width:100px;height:100px;padding:10px;border:1px #aaa solid;[/newclass][newclass=.clbox]float:right;height:100px;margin:15px 5px auto auto;text-align:justify;width:257px;[/newclass][newclass=.ctopline]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:2px;text-transform:uppercase;font-family:verdana;color:#aaa;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript]font-size:23px;margin-top:-3px;font-family:Dancing Script;color:#e5b2ad;[/newclass][newclass=.cscript span]color:#ccc;[/newclass][newclass=.cline]height:1px;background-color:#888;margin:3px auto;[/newclass][newclass=.clyrics]font-size:8px;letter-spacing:1px;text-transform:uppercase;text-align:justify;font-family:verdana;color:#999;[/newclass][newclass=.cbody]font-family:verdana;color:#999;font-size:10px;text-align:justify;line-height:14px;letter-spacing:0.5px;[/newclass][newclass=.cnotes]font-size:9px;letter-spacing:1px;text-align:center;opacity:0.8;[/newclass][newclass=.cred]text-align:center;font-size:6pt;color:rgb(132, 132, 132);letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass][newclass=.cred a]color:rgb(132, 132, 132);font-size:6pt;letter-spacing:1px;font-family:verdana;[/newclass]

[Tobias Knightly]

Knightly looked at her surprised for a moment, though his face did not show it. She'd just laughed at him when he told her that he yelled at his workers. He knew that is wasn't something one would normally brag about, however he also knew that lieing about it only made him more of an ass. He did yell when they were off schedule and the schedule was what made everything work. Ink needed to be finished on time, papers pressed on time, letters put in the machine on time--because when one wheel in this unit broke the rest of the jobs were pointless! So yes, he yelled. This was his life, and he controlled it. Nothing would change that. AND she's just laughed at him.

She did have the grace to look a little taken back by her own action, and Knightly let it go. No use scaring her off. Had she been less talented, already employed, or a man he might not have. However as he wanted her talent in his paper, and was trying to get her to work for him and she was in fact (very much) a woman . . . there would be no yelling today.

It was then that she again surprised him. She wished to learn. Unlike the aforementioned surprise, this one was pleasant and encouraging. He hated writers who just turned int heir work and assumed he'd handle the nitty gritty details of it. Some had horrid spelling, or some had too many capitals everywhere in the writing. One even refused to use capitals. It was madding but talent was talent, and as long as he was not editing the work then he was find with editing the details. Which was why her question was a pleasant surprise.

"Most of the editing from the first letter was in removing the details that made it personal to the lady in which you wrote too--such as her name." Reaching for the amended article, he walked around the desk so he could lean on the edge while handing it to her. "A few other corrections are there as well." Though thankfully not as many as he did for his other writers. In truth, he had even assumed the minor ones were from the informalness of the letter rather then author's skill. That was had been evident in her writing.

"The only thing missing from that--" he pointed to the article that he had handed to her "--is your by line, and the title for the article. Some writers use pen names, however I rather you did not. We need them to feel as if they know you in order to write to you." He knew he had ignored her question about picking up the letters, but he would come back to that very shortly. Right now he wanted to focus on this article.

^{Mirela Camden}