He lay in bed that night unable to sleep. Despite his exhaustion, his mind would not allow him to rest, and it tumbled from one concern to the next. How the post office would take his sudden departure, the little he knew of household service, and what to make of Viscount Clearwater were the most pressing matters. The viscount’s letter, which he would take to work in the morning, would see to the first, his brief introduction from Tripp reassured him about the second, but the third took more time to restlessly contemplate. The viscount seemed a generous man but one who acted on impulse. Surely there were better trained and more suitable applicants for the post, so why had he chosen James, a man with no experience?
As he thought about that, Tripp’s words came back to him. ‘Things happened at Clearwater House which would shock the most hardened, righteous man.’ He was alluding to homosexuality in coded words so obvious he may as well have written them in a telegram. James needed Tripp’s money and was, at first, happy to act as his spy. Now, having met the viscount and experienced his generosity, he was loath to act against him. On top of that was the knowledge that Thomas was keen to return James’ affection; unnatural affection which was what Tripp, for his own unexplained reasons, wanted to prove was rife at Clearwater House.
He was in a no-win situation and had to make a choice. Either spy for Tripp and make a lot of quick money, or lose the opportunity by believing in Thomas and giving his loyalty to the viscount. He could think of no safe way to do both and knew he wouldn’t sleep until he had decided.
The decision, when it came, was easier than he expected, and once James’ mind was made up, there was no shifting it. The candle died at two in the morning. The light was extinguished on his old life, and his future began in darkness.
His mother woke him at his usual time to give him breakfast and insisted he wore his best clothes. She had been awake since before dawn and had packed a suitcase with all the things Thomas had said to bring. There was no tearful goodbye, he would be living less than a mile away and promised to visit during his time off, but still, it was a wrench to leave the only home he had known. As a way of reassuring his mother that he was doing the right thing, he gave her what money he had, saying that he would no longer want for anything.
He realised that he wanted for a lot when he arrived at Clearwater later that morning and looked up at the massive building. In the yard, he counted the attic windows in from the right until he saw the room that would be his, but even the thought of his own bed did little to steady a sudden attack of nerves. The maid led him through to the servants’ hall where he was acutely aware of unfamiliar sounds and smells. Pans clattered, and the echo of footsteps that belonged to people he didn’t know greeted him as he entered the kitchen. A scrawny woman was bent over a sink, and it took him a moment to realise this was the cook and that she would be preparing his meals from now on.
A severe woman met him in the servants’ hall. Her grey hair was tied back as though shocked from her face by his appearance, revealing a fixed scowl and an air of distrust. She told him to stay where he was, and her authority reminded him of his first day at the post office. He had been scared out of his wits and nearly burst into tears when asked his name. Today, he had more confidence, mainly brought about by Tripp’s forewarning and the knowledge that somewhere in the house was Thomas.
‘Under normal circumstances,’ the woman said, ‘I would have appointed you.’ She looked him up and down. ‘Or not. But, these are not normal circumstances. I am away at any moment and must leave you in the hands of Mr Payne.’
‘I understand, madam,’ he said.
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s Mrs Baker. You call no-one madam. Wait there.’
She turned and swept from the room leaving him alone among the lingering smell of toast. He waited as patiently as he could, wondering if he was allowed to sit, and was about to take off his coat to alleviate his nervous sweating when the chestnut-haired maid reappeared. She gave him a brief, sympathetic smile as she passed through the room carrying bed sheets, but was gone in a second.
He waited a minute more, listening to laughter in the kitchen, and let his eyes wander over the dressers. This room was not so much different from his parlour at home, except it was larger and lavishly equipped. And this was only for the servants.
‘Who are you?’
He turned at the sound of a thickly accented, deep voice to find the huge, blond groom from the stables filling the doorway, and stepped back more in awe than shock.
The man wore a long, dark grey coat, double-breasted and buttoned, a straight high collar showing beneath, and below, he wore tight trousers tucked into high black boots. He carried a top hat in one huge hand, and James realised he was the coachman, not a lowly groom.
‘James Wright,’ he said, and stood to attention.
The coachman laughed for no reason and put his hat on the table.
‘Where you from?’ the man asked.
‘South Riverside.’
‘What you do?’
‘I’m the new footman.’
The man nodded, studied James for a moment and took a step towards him. He was several inches taller and intimidating. The riding crop he carried had something to do with that, but he placed it on the table before offering a hand.
‘Andrej Borysko Yakiv Kolisnychenko,’ he said, taking James’ hand and nearly crushing it as the words rolled exotically from his tongue. ‘Fecker. Ukraine.’
Before James had a chance to ask him to explain, Mrs Baker was back carrying a parcel wrapped in brown paper.
‘I will be five minutes, Mr Andrej,’ she said. ‘Sally is on her way. My bags are outside my rooms.’
The coachman said nothing as he headed deeper into the house leaving James alone with the woman in black.
She gave him the parcel and said, ‘Come,’ before turning on her heels.
He followed, passing another maid coming down the backstairs. Although busy with a suitcase she eyed him with interest.
‘Can I help you with those, Miss?’ he asked, thinking it a good way to break the ice.
‘No,’ the housekeeper ordered, and the maid, smiling apologetically, struggled past.
He was led to the same room where Thomas had interviewed him, and Mrs Baker knocked before entering.
‘Change in here,’ she said. ‘Mr Payne will be with you shortly. Touch nothing. Goodbye.’
With that, he was left alone.
Yesterday, he had been too intent on Thomas to notice the room in detail, and his nervousness increased as he took in the sight of silver and pewter, the arrays of glasses and a pile of ledgers on the desk. A stone sink was set in a wooden counter beneath a barred window which looked onto a brick wall, and two clocks ticked on the mantlepiece, both reading the same time to the second. The room was a mix of practicality and studiousness, with cleaning materials on one shelf and a dictionary and reading books on another.
He unwrapped the parcel carefully but quickly — as everything so far had suggested things happened swiftly but efficiently below stairs — and took out what could only be his uniform. It consisted of a double-breasted tailcoat, a waistcoat of dark green shot through and shimmering with crimson, black trousers and a small bow tie. At least, he assumed that was what it was; it was little more than a length of silk, also dark green and an odd shape. Hoping that no-one came in, he stripped to his underclothes and was wondering what to do about a shirt when the door flew open, and Thomas appeared.
‘Good Lord!’ he exclaimed when he saw James topless and wearing only long johns and socks.
‘Good morning, Sir,’ James said, standing to attention and saluting as was the way at the post office.
Thomas’ dazzling eyes widened, and he kicked the door shut with a foot.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Mr Payne.’
‘Sorry.’
‘What for?’
‘You should say, My apologies, not Sorry. And don’t salute. His Lordship hates it, and you don’t do it unless you are a military man, which I know you are not.’
‘Okay.’
‘Heavens no,’ Thomas said, horrified. ‘We are not Americans. As you wish, Very well, Of course. Anything but Okay.’
‘Very good, Mr Payne.’
‘Better.’
Thomas’ face, until then wrinkled in thought, relaxed and his eyes, which had been hovering at James’ groin as if unable to look anywhere else, found his face. Thrilling though it was to be semi-naked in front of the man he desired, James was embarrassed that Thomas had stared. He wished he had more for the man to admire.
‘Try on your uniform,’ Thomas said.
‘Do I wear my own shirt, Mr Payne?’
‘Damn, did they not send them? Do you have a white one?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then wear that for now if it can take a collar. Yours will arrive in due course.’
Thomas busied himself at a cupboard while James put on the trousers and found his best shirt from his suitcase. He was about to ask about a collar when Thomas handed him one and two mother of pearl studs.
‘Blimey!’ James exclaimed. He had never been given jewellery before. ‘My shoes?’ he asked, but Thomas held a pair in his hands.
‘Mrs Baker said these should fit you,’ he said. ‘If not, bear with me, and I will send for some to arrive with your other livery.’
‘There’s more?’
Thomas smiled and perched himself on the table, his arms folded, admiring James as he dressed.
‘You have much to learn, James,’ he said. ‘And I shall enjoy teaching you. It will take time, but for now, the important thing to remember is that you only do what I tell you. If in doubt, ask me, but not in front of His Lordship or his guests. Understood?’
‘Yes, Mr Payne.’
‘You will have this livery for the mornings, another for lunch and afternoons and a more formal one for evening dinners and other occasions. Lady Marshall has yet to design a royal livery for times when you might be required to travel with His Lordship to state occasions, but he has no plans in that respect, and it will come in time. All of them will be kept immaculate every minute of the day. By you, that is. Aprons and overalls are provided for when you are washing the plates, sweeping the hall and cleaning the silver, and there are gloves for the glass work and serving. You’ll get the rhythm of it.’
‘I hope so.’
‘Nervous?’
‘Like the first day at school.’
‘Here.’
James was struggling with the bow tie until Thomas, having pushed himself from the table, came to him and took it. He turned James to face a mirror and showed him how to tie the material, standing behind with his arms over James’ shoulders. The intimacy of the position was thrilling and, James hoped not lost on Thomas. Remembering their conversation and the dual role they had agreed to play, the new footman behaved and said nothing of what was in his heart. He wanted to thank the man as much as he wanted to take his hands and hold him, but he couldn’t, not here. Where he had to learn his duties and appropriate behaviour, he also had to learn to control his feelings. It wouldn’t be easy, and when Thomas turned him again, it was all he could do not to kiss the man.
With the waistcoat and jacket, both of which fitted perfectly, and the polished shoes, which did not, he was complete.
‘Now,’ Thomas said, returning to his desk and sitting. ‘His Lordship won’t expect you to be perfect in your duties, not today, but come tomorrow or the day after, you are expected to be adept, so watch and learn. Ask privately when necessary and try not to be nervous. I am here for you, James, as you know, and I mean that on… on both floors, shall we say.’
His words were reassuring.
‘The house runs slightly differently to Larkspur where there is a larger staff. I’m expected to valet His Lordship, as you may be. The late viscount’s man retired after the master died, and a new one has not yet been appointed as there’s no need. So, we have dual roles, but there’s no cause for panic. For now, I have seen to breakfast. ‘We have a small dinner party this evening, and you’ll be expected to serve. Meanwhile, His Lordship is at work in his study and will ring when he needs us. I’ll tell him you are here as he is anxious to ask how you got on yesterday. As am I.’
‘Oh, well, I…’
‘Not yet.’ Thomas interrupted. ‘One thing at a time. For now, I will answer the bells, and you will follow me everywhere, understood?’
James nodded.
‘Good. First, however, you should take your things to your room. I’ve made up the bed and aired it. From now on, you will see to that yourself and to your own laundry changes, though Lucy will do your washing. Any questions?’
‘Hundreds.’
‘Of course, and they will be answered.’ Thomas rubbed his hands together while examining James’ livery and, it seemed, liking what he saw. ‘For now, I have one to ask of you.’
Thomas locked the door, an action which increased James’ heart rate, and returned to stand facing him.
‘This is the last time such a thing will happen down here,’ the butler said. ‘Tell me, James, our discussion yesterday, upstairs, do you still feel the same?’
James knew what he meant. ‘If it’s possible,’ he said, unable to keep the grin from his lips. ‘More so today than I did then.’
‘In which case…’ Thomas took a step closer. ‘This is definitely the last time this will happen here, and if you tell anyone, you will be fired.’
He took James’ head in one hand and drew him to his lips. James lost himself in the kiss, wishing it didn’t have to end, and by the time they did break apart, breathless and happy, his nervousness had drained away.
‘Thank you,’ he whispered.
‘What for?’ Thomas was still holding him, and if he didn’t let go soon, James wouldn’t be able to hide the swelling in his trousers.
‘Everything’, he said, shrugging. ‘Just everything.’
‘I know you won’t let me down.’ Thomas released him. ‘But, more importantly, I know you won’t betray the trust His Lordship has placed in you. Come along.’
They left the butler’s pantry and made for the backstairs with the word ‘trust’ ringing loudly in James’ ears and guilt gnawing at his heart.
The next two hours passed in a blur as Thomas showed him how to lay the dining room table and set the sideboard for lunch.
‘Don’t be surprised if His Lordship changes his mind about eating,’ Thomas said, measuring the distance of the wine glasses from the table edge. ‘And don’t take it to heart if you spend an hour preparing the dining table only to be asked to deliver a tray to his rooms.’
Satisfied with the table, he led James into the hall to show him the correct way to answer the door, explaining how the bell system worked and how they would alternate the door answering. James had noticed the bells earlier and seen that each one had beneath it the title of the room to which it corresponded.
‘Arrive at the door,’ Thomas said, taking him to the drawing room. ‘Check your livery and your composure before entering. It’s only necessary to knock if the doors are closed, in which case you wait to be called. If they are open, like now…’ He walked into the room. ‘Stand here and wait to be addressed. You can knock if the matter is urgent. Got that?’
‘I hope so.’
At that moment, the double doors to the viscount’s study opened, and a man appeared. When James had seen him yesterday, the man, younger than him, smartly dressed and boyishly handsome, had been swaying in the saddle of a horse led by the blond coachman. He had appeared unconfident, but today, he strode with authority. T
homas straightened his back and James copied.
‘This must be Jimmy, right?’ the man said, his familiarity taking James by surprise. He had an Irish accent and, as he drew near, James was able to see his eyes were a deep blue. The eyebrows were jet black and slanted towards his temples giving him a look of severe concentration.
‘James,’ Thomas corrected.
The youth appraised James with his hands on his hips and his head to one side. The inspection over, he nodded.
‘Very smart,’ he said. He slapped James gently on his shoulder as he passed by. ‘I’ll be back in a minute, Payne. His Lordship wants you.’ He continued into the hall where James heard his shoes squeak on the tiles.
‘Mr Hawkins,’ Thomas whispered. ‘His Lordship’s secretary. You call him Mr Hawkins first time and Sir thereafter. We’ll go into the study now. Remember, Your Lordship, and then Sir. Come.’
Thomas walked ahead, and James tried to copy the way he glided across the carpet, but was unable. He’d spent most of his working life tramping pavements and dodging traffic, and here he was treading on rugs in the most extravagant room he could imagine. Keeping his hands by his sides and his head erect took all his concentration, and he wondered if he would ever be as calmly skilled and confident as Thomas. He admired his wide shoulders and broad back, his sculptured features and perfect hair, but mostly, he marvelled at his calm assurance.
There was no time to think on the matter. Arriving at the study, Thomas entered completely at ease while James waited nervously on the threshold.
The viscount stood at a large table between the two tall windows, his head down over an atlas. He was in his shirtsleeves, and his waistcoat hung open.
Twisted Tracks (The Clearwater Mysteries Book 2) Page 14