‘Now then,’ Thomas said, after he had inspected James’ tails and brushed a blond hair from his lapel. ‘Come with me to the dining room, and I’ll run through the order with you.’
James hadn’t seen the viscount all afternoon, and the study doors had remained closed. They still were when Thomas took him into the drawing room and showed him how to make up and light the fire, trim the lamps and brush the furniture.
‘His Lordship works hard,’ James said, as he helped Thomas lay the dining table. ‘His secretary must be invaluable.’
‘Mr Hawkins is as new in his post as I am in mine,’ Thomas admitted. ‘But what goes on in the study, as elsewhere, is no concern of ours.’
‘Like that business with the telegram?’
‘Exactly.’
‘But it’s been on your mind, hasn’t it?’
Thomas looked up from the cutlery he was polishing for the second time. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because you’re not as relaxed as you were when we met in the pub.’
‘You can hardly compare the two locations.’ He swept his hand from the chandelier to the oil paintings.
‘Yeah, I get that,’ James said. ‘But I can’t help noticing these things, and if you want me to obey the first rule of Clearwater, I’ve got to say I’m concerned about you.’
Thomas looked from the doors to the drawing room. There was no-one in sight. ‘James,’ he said. ‘I know this is new to you and I know our… relationship is unusual in all respects, but I must insist you keep personal talk to our rooms.’
‘Sorry,’ James said, frowning. They weren’t being overheard, but he lowered his voice just in case. ‘You know what the hardest part of today has been? Being so close to you and not being able to touch you.’
Thomas stiffened. ‘Not down here, James, please.’
‘Just being honest, Mr Payne.’
‘And thank you for that. If it helps focus your attention, I feel the same way, but as I said earlier, we have our above-stairs roles.’
‘I just want to tell someone my news, how I feel, how excited I…’
‘You can’t,’ Thomas emphasised. ‘None of us can. Tonight, we must be butler and footman.’
‘All night?’ James asked, insinuating.
‘Maybe not all night,’ Thomas replied with the faintest hint of a smile. ‘We shall see. But definitely not while on duty.’
‘Just after reassurance,’ James said.
‘And you have it. Later. But now…’ Thomas checked his pocket watch. ‘Now I must attend to the wine. You should wait downstairs for the bell and if I am in the cellar, answer the door.’
‘On my own?’
‘I can ask Lucy if you’re nervous.’
‘No, I’ll be fine.’
‘We’re expecting the Viscountess Delamere,’ Thomas said as they left the dining room. ‘You open the door, bow your head, take her coat, stole, wrap or whatever she offers you, and hang or place them on the stand. With Lady Marshall, it’s best to be prepared for anything, as it often is with His Lordship. She is his godmother, by the way. We are also expecting a doctor who works in the East End, Doctor Markland. He and Mr Hawkins will be your responsibility at dinner. I will serve His Lordship and Lady Marshall. I suggest you watch and copy me, but only after I have served. It’s a question of status.’
‘I see. And what do I do with them when they get here?’
‘Well, you don’t leave them standing in the hall, that’s for sure.’ Thomas walked him through the procedure of announcing callers before they headed downstairs to continue the preparations.
As seven-thirty approached, James stood watching the bells, part of him hoping Thomas would reappear and half of him hoping he didn’t. He was keen to show his ability and, nervous though he was, he was sure he could manage. The front-door bell tinkled at exactly half-past and, alone, he left to answer it.
The hall echoed with the sound of the clock which had just announced the time. It would chime many more times before his duties ended.
Praying he could stay awake and alert, he checked his uniform and opened the front door.
He knew of, but had never met the Viscountess Delamere. She was one of the few women who had been given a title in her own right, and the person he found on the step was not what he was expecting. She wore a fashionable, hooded coat that fitted tightly at the waist but flared to the hem in the Gothic fashion, its buttons a darker red than the velvet material. The hood was up, and at first, James thought it was jewelled, but then he realised it was sparkling with droplets of rain.
‘Good lord,’ Her Ladyship said, sweeping the hood from her head to reveal real jewels in a narrow headpiece. ‘You’re a handsome one. What’s your name?’
‘James,’ he said, quickly adding, ‘Your Ladyship.’ He stood back to allow her to enter.
‘Where’s Tripp?’ She was in the hall and had taken off her cloak before James had a chance to assist.
‘Mr Tripp has been replaced by Thomas, er, Mr Payne Your…’ Was it Ma’am or Your Ladyship?
‘Ma’am,’ she said as if reading his mind. ‘New?’
‘Yes, Ma’am. Shall I take your coat, stole, wrap or whatever?’
She looked at him in amused shock, before saying, ‘It’s a whatever. I’ll do it.’ She marched to the stand to hang it, leaving James redundant. ‘What happened to the tortoise?’
Was it, I beg your pardon, or I’m sorry? ‘I haven’t yet seen one,’ he said.
The woman laughed and spun to face him. Her dress was startling. Also crimson, it reached the floor, pinched above her narrow hips and blossomed at her shoulders in silk ruffles. It was cut low enough to show off several rows of diamonds at her neck, but not so low as to reveal cleavage, and was trimmed in a material that caught the chandelier’s light, making every thread sparkle.
‘I meant Tripp, James,’ she said.
The use of his Christian name by a titled lady came as a pleasant shock, but the talk of Tripp reminded him of his dishonesty. ‘I’m not sure, Ma’am,’ he said, swallowing.
‘Ah, Dolly!’ The viscount appeared in the drawing-room doorway. ‘Put James down and come in. Payne is bringing absinthe.’
‘Oh no,’ Her Ladyship complained, sweeping across the hall like an elegant statue on unseen, well-oiled wheels. ‘I’ve done with that filth. Tripp is no more, I understand?’
‘Still living, but not with us,’ the viscount said. ‘I shall explain all. How are you? Thank you, James.’
They disappeared into the drawing room leaving James wondering what he should do next. He didn’t have long to decide as he heard a carriage pulling away and footsteps approaching the front door. He opened it to a dark-haired man in a three-quarter length coat and a top hat. The guest was watching the street as he reached for the bell-pull, but turned to reveal a serious face, the centrepiece of which was a bushy moustache in the fashion of the young well-to-do. James put him in his thirties.
‘Doctor Markland,’ the man said, lowering his hand. ‘I am expected.’
‘Good evening, Sir,’ James bowed his head, something which he’d forgotten to do to Lady Marshall.
He stood back, and this time was allowed to take the offered hat and coat which he hung before inviting the man to follow him to the drawing room. There, he knocked once and announced, ‘Doctor Markland.’
‘Thank you, James,’ the viscount beamed, as he approached. ‘Ask Payne to join us would you?’
There was no sign of the viscount’s earlier black mood, and his cheerfulness was reassuring.
‘Of course, My Lord,’ James said, congratulating himself on his correctness as he left.
‘And there’s no need to knock if the doors are open,’ the viscount called after him, slightly deflating his ego.
He found Thomas on the backstairs carrying several bottles of wine. ‘How did you get on?’ he asked.
‘I think I did alright. They’re in the drawing room, and His Lordship wants you.’
‘Thanks, and well done. Go and wait downstairs.’
James waited nervously in the kitchen with the cook. She, like Fecker, was someone who said little, but she did explain each dish and told him how to serve it. Accepting he was new to service, she asked no questions and spoke clearly though rather sharply. She was protective of her creations and, he sensed, protective of him. That might have been because she wanted him to do justice to her cooking, but it left him with the sense that he had another ally.
At five to eight, Lucy left to ring the first dinner gong, and Mrs Flintwich said, ‘That’s your time to go up. Good luck.’
As it turned out, James didn’t need luck. He followed Thomas’ every instruction and movement, remembering to clear plates with both hands and from the left. He didn’t drop anything and when not attending to the table, kept his eyes on the wall or, more enjoyably, on the butler.
‘Your new man seems to know what he’s doing,’ Lady Marshall said, as she examined the soup Thomas had carefully ladled into her bowl. ‘Both of them.’
‘Thank you,’ the viscount said. ‘This is James’ first day, so we must be gentle with him.’
‘May I ask, James, how you came to be in service?’
The question came from the doctor. James hadn’t realised he was allowed to speak to the guests, but a quick nod from Thomas told him he could reply.
‘By the good grace of His Lordship,’ he said. He wasn’t sure if that was correct, but it sounded like the right thing to say.
‘On Payne’s recommendation,’ the viscount clarified. ‘And you know how much I value his opinion.’
‘But I believe you were a messenger?’ This came from Lady Marshall.
‘That is correct, Ma’am. Until only yesterday.’
‘They have something of a reputation,’ the doctor said. ‘I mean no disrespect to the footman, but we hear stories.’
James said nothing.
‘I have always found them flighty,’ her ladyship commented. ‘And I have never met one as handsome as James.’
‘Behave, Dolly,’ the viscount chided. ‘Thank you, James.’
That was James’ cue to return to his place, the soup having been served, and he stood with his hands behind his back, his chin raised.
The conversation turned to the meal, but after the first course, shifted to a discussion of Lord Clearwater’s charity. James couldn’t help but listen and made sure he didn’t react when they spoke about renters and men who prostituted themselves to other men for money. He knew the score. Several of his ex-colleagues made money from doing just that, but privately in gentlemen’s homes. He was glad he had refused Lovemount’s offer to become involved. The subject didn’t upset Lady Marshall. In fact, she approached it with gusto, apparently as keen as the others to do something for those in the East End who had no other option but prostitution. Thomas didn’t react to the discussion either, keeping his gaze on the wall and occasionally checking the table, ready to attend when His Lordship called him.
‘And what’s your take on it, Mr Hawkins?’ the doctor asked. ‘I believe you have a working knowledge of the matter.’
‘Perhaps that’s a discussion for later,’ the viscount suggested, tipping his head to indicate James.
‘My apologies.’
‘I don’t mind, Doctor,’ Mr Hawkins put in. ‘A man can’t help his past, and I reckon we can trust James.’
‘Can we trust you?’ Her ladyship looked up from her fish, her grey eyes narrowing.
With what? Was what James wanted to ask, but instead, he said, ‘Certainly, Ma’am,’ and received a nod of approval from Thomas.
‘Yes,’ Mr Hawkins continued. ‘I used to do that, Doctor, up until a while ago. But His Lordship rescued me.’
‘Oh, please, Silas,’ the viscount laughed. ‘You flatter me.’
‘Much as your butler rescued you from the clutches of Saint Mary’s,’ the doctor said.
‘Yes. How did you end up in that place?’ That was Lady Marshall. ‘You never did give me the details.’
‘And it’s best that I don’t,’ His Lordship replied. ‘But you are correct, Markland. Thomas, and Silas both had my back when the crunch came, as did you. On which note, remind me after dinner to discuss the hospital’s needs. I know you’re moving over to the Cheap Street hostel — we must find a better name — but I promised to write to Lady Clearwater with my first-hand experiences of St Mary’s, and I fear I’ve quite forgotten.’
‘One should never forget one’s mother,’ Her Ladyship said. ‘The poor creatures are the ones who bore us into this life and continue to do so until we bear them to their graves.’
‘I shall, Your Lordship,’ the doctor said, having smiled thinly but politely at Her Ladyship’s observation. ‘And please, call me Philip, if you will.’
‘I would be honoured,’ the viscount said.
‘The honour is all mine.’
‘Now you are flattering me, Philip.’
‘It is no less than your philanthropy demands.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Lady Marshall threw back her head and laughed so loudly, James thought he saw the drops of the chandelier tremble. ‘You boys,’ she said, recovering. ‘It’s like some kind of cockfight preening ritual. Can we just accept that you two should clearly be friends, that we all have the good of the renters in common, and that James has undoubtedly heard worse than four people talking about what men are forced to do with their penises.’
The viscount choked on a potato, and James fought to suppress a nervous laugh. It didn’t help that Mr Hawkins winked at him.
‘Dolly!’
‘Oh, come on, Archie. We’re all men here,’ she continued. ‘Not physiologically perhaps, Markland, but underneath I have equal mettle. Silas, what exactly did you have to do to earn your shillings?’
‘Really, Dolly. Must you?’ The viscount’s eyes were wide.
‘Yes. How else will the doctor know what we may confront in our mission?’
‘I have been researching, and am happy to tell your ladyship without the need to embarrass Mr Hawkins,’ the doctor said.
‘You can’t embarrass him,’ Lady Marshall scoffed. ‘Tell me I am wrong, Silas.’
‘No, Your Ladyship,’ Silas smiled. ‘You’re right there.’
‘Except she isn’t.’ The viscount addressed his godmother. ‘Dolly, I am metaphorically kicking you under the table.’
‘Ineffectually.’ She poked out her tongue at him.
‘I must attend to those stitches, Mr Hawkins,’ the doctor said, in an attempt to change the subject. ‘It looks like you have healed quickly.’
‘All coming along nicely, Doctor,’ Silas said. ‘Thank you.’
‘Maybe we could find somewhere private after dinner,’ Markland said to him, with a brief nod towards the viscountess. ‘It’s a simple procedure, but not to everyone’s taste.’
‘I have seen far worse.’ Her Ladyship said. ‘But tell me, Markland, are you also homosexual?’
The question, which came out of the blue, shocked the doctor, caused the viscount to draw in a sharp breath, and turned James’ blood cold with fear.
‘I beg your pardon?’ the doctor spluttered.
‘Well, everyone else around this table is, with the exception, perhaps, of the footman.’
Lady Marshall raised her eyes to him. James could feel them, but his own fixed on Thomas who remained static.
All other eyes were on the doctor. He flushed a shade of red to match the wine, knowing the conversation was not going to continue until he answered.
‘You
may speak freely and safely in Clearwater,’ the viscount assured him. ‘But there is no need to answer such an impertinent question.’
The doctor put down his knife and fork and cleared his throat. ‘Your Lordship,’ he said. ‘We are aware of the consequences that may befall a man making such an admission, hence my reticence. I have treated you professionally and been invited to dine as an acquaintance. I mean no disrespect when I say that I am not yet honoured enough to be considered a friend of such an intimate nature that, despite your generous outlook…’
‘Here we go again,’ Lady Marshall tutted. ‘If it helps you break through the barrier of conventionality, Doctor, you are in one of the few houses in this metropolis where walls have no ears. Silas has decreed that we can trust the new footman, and I know we can trust Payne. Out with it.’
‘I would rather not, Your Ladyship, for fear of shocking you.’
‘Unlikely,’ she said. ‘But maybe the lower orders can guide you.’ Turning to James, she asked, ‘What are your thoughts on the subject young man?’
Thomas paled but gave him no guidance.
James thought quickly. If he understood the situation correctly, the viscount and his secretary were a couple, just as Tripp suspected. He knew Thomas shared the same inclinations, and he knew that Tripp was after as much incriminating evidence on the subject as he could supply. If he admitted that he, too, was homosexual, he might learn more — from Hawkins perhaps, if not from Lord Clearwater himself. On the other hand, the titled guests might be trying to trap him, or it could be a test of his honesty set up by Lord Clearwater, a man whose trust he needed.
The dinner party was waiting.
Twisted Tracks (The Clearwater Mysteries Book 2) Page 16