Jasper Flynn had never really intended to become a butler. His sickly mother was less than enthusiastic when he read letter to her. It was the fancy kind, classically sealed in a thick cream envelope with a red wax. It had come from a rather prestigious family in France, in response to the one he'd written as a job application of sorts. His mother was ailing and he needed the work. As it came to be, his credentials checked out, and the family insisted he come to France immediately.
His mother had been lower-class most of her life, and as a result was poorly educated. She married off to Addison Flynn, an upper-middle class factory owner, ensuring their son had a much more opportunistic lifestyle. His excitement blurring his rationality, he handed her the letter eagerly. "And you said my letters were all for nothing, that I ought to be looking for a job in the shops! Have a look at that, would you?" gloated Jasper. His mother merely glanced over the letter and handed it back to him. "Boy, you think I can read that?" She hissed between coughs.
It occurred to Jasper that his mother couldn't read French. He took the letter back and translated it aloud, pleased when he saw her eyes light up with interest. They were cerulean, like his. "Off to France, then?" She crowed, "Off to be some spoiled brat's lapdog?" No longer pleased, Jasper nodded. It was exactly what he was going to do, and he was going to earn a damn good living doing it. It wouldn't be so bad, would it? Living in a grand mansion, doing a few chores here and there? Besides, it was only a kid.
That's what Jasper told himself as he boarded a plane to France. The mantra was a broken record as he arrived at the mansion, was guided through the doors. Only a kid, only a kid. Of course, Jasper was nervous. He had never done this sort of work before, really. Sure, he had served apprenticeships before, but nothing this grand. Everything he saw seemed to be gilded with gold or silk. The place was immaculately clean and lit. His own home was an outhouse compared to it. Jasper was torn from his fascination with the tapestries when the maid gestured to a heavy wooden door and said, "Right through here, Mr. Flynn." Jasper ran his fingers through his wavy blond hair and realigned his tie for the umpteenth time. The last thing he wanted to do was appear uncivilized in the midst of such elegance.
With one last gathering of courage, Jasper pushed open the door -- which truly was as heavy as it looked -- and stepped into the room. Right away he noticed the bundle on the bed, nesting among an avalanche of pillows and toys. The bundle, he assumed, was the boy, Charles. His eyes strayed from Charles to drink in the almost preposterously large room. Like the rest of the estate, it was elegant and surreal to Jasper's humble eyes, yet still illustrated the charming flair of childhood. Remembering his manners, Jasper began to politely introduce himself. "I am Jasper Flynn, of England," he fluently announced to those assembled, "I would be your new butler."
