The Madmen of Beldon Hall

by K. Sterling

  “Neither have I.”

  Chapter 5

  There was a loud crack of thunder and Alastair’s eyes snapped open. His chest heaved as light streaked across the ceiling and the hall lit up as thunder shook the ground. A long, sorrowful moan swelled from upstairs, in the east wing of the house. Alastair looked at Byron but he was snoring with the covers pulled tightly over his head.

  “I’m sure you’ve got some delightful anecdote about having slept through a monster truck rally or a cock fight,” he grumbled as he sat up and swung his feet over the side of the bed.

  The very last thing Alastair wanted to do was go upstairs, at night, during a storm. But there was no way the sound was the wind, it sobbed. His brain screamed that it was an echo from a dream but he worried that a homeless person might have taken residence in the manor or was hiding from the storm.

  He pulled on his coat and slipped on his shoes then looked back at Byron and considered waking him. He was still sleeping soundly. Alastair scolded himself for being a child and carefully climbed the staircase, several of the steps sagged and groaned as he stepped on them. The sound of his heartbeat and the rushing of his blood roared in his ears when he reached the gallery and looked down the long hallway. His blood turned to ice as another tortured cry filled the night. Alastair looked back and Byron was still snoring in his bed. He shook his head then reached for a candlestick and slowly made his way down the hall.

  Alastair crept down the hallway, pausing at each door to listen. The rain slowed and the night calmed as he approached the end of the hall and he jumped at the sound of scratching. His eyes swung around but the darkness was inky and thick around him. He swallowed hard as his hand reached for the door to the servants’ staircase. A child laughed and Alastair shook his head as he tried to take a step back but his feet wouldn’t move. The scratching got louder and Alastair pushed his fingers in his ears then screamed when the door flew open.

  Light and shrieking swallowed him and his clothes began to pull and rip and his face, neck and hands stung. He fell back and covered his face as he rolled. His hands were covered in scratches and blood dripped into his eyes as he crawled.

  “You bastard!”

  Alastair looked over his shoulder and another scream ripped from his throat as his father’s hands locked around his neck. He kicked and pushed as he bucked and twisted until he broke free then got to his feet and ran. He tripped and stumbled when he reached the gallery and when he looked at the bottom of the stairs the main hall was completely empty.

  “Byron!” He called then turned back to the window as lightning filled the sky.

  A young woman in an Edwardian maid’s uniform hung from the third landing’s banister and Alastair staggered back. Her black hair had come loose and shivered in the wind and her skin was a dull grey. Alastair reached for her then jumped when her eyes opened.

  “Bastard!” She cried before she wailed, long and mournfully.

  “Stop!” Alastair howled then gasped as he sat up. Sweat dripped down his temple and his hair and shirt stuck to his body as his eyes darted around the main hall. Embers glowed in the hearth and the windows rattled gently as the storm gave up its fury.

  “Isstill time tosleep,” Byron mumbled as he rolled onto his side, away from Alastair.

  “Why did I let you talk me into this?” Alastair grumbled as he shut his eyes and hugged his pillow against his ear so he couldn’t hear the house around him.

  Chapter 6

  Alastair wasn’t kidding. The amount of books on the first floor was mind boggling. Almost every room was lined with shelves and every drawer and cabinet he looked in was packed with ledgers and papers. While he wasn’t opening any closets or venturing upstairs, Byron wasn’t as freaked out about the house once the sun came up. His curiosity and excitement got to him and he quietly snuck out of the main hall and down a hallway that led to a traditional English gentlemen’s study and a cavernous library. Aside from the inches of dust, most of the books and documents seemed to be in decent shape. He’d had nightmares about mold and rain damage.

  There was no logical place to begin so Byron decided to make himself useful and inspect the kitchen until Alastair woke up. He immediately slammed the pantry door shut and propped a chair under the knob to be safe. It took him almost half an hour and a box of matches but he was able to get the ancient oil stove fired up. There was running water but it was way too cold to bathe in so he filled four giant pots with water and put them on the stove to heat.

  After their first night at Beldon, Byron was beginning to appreciate Alastair’s motives for shutting the manor. He wasn’t sure if he believed it was haunted, though he didn’t doubt that Alastair experienced something traumatic. Hell, he’d probably been traumatized so severely as a child, his brain may have created the incident in the closet to cope with some more terrible horror. As soon as his eyes opened, Byron was determined to make their time at Beldon as painless as possible. His mind kept drifting back to Alastair’s past at the estate and he felt honestly guilty for inflicting those memories on him. If he’d known before, he might have backed off. Might.

  As far as Byron could tell, the best thing he could do for Alastair was to make their time at Beldon less dreary in any way he could. And he’d work fast, once he found the journals. As long as he had decent enough pictures and copies to work with, he could always translate things once he was back at Gresham.

  Byron checked the water and cheered as he pulled the first pot off the burner and replaced it with another large pot. He had a feeling Alastair would be grateful and in a better mood after a hot bath and a shave. The bathroom in the housekeeper’s quarters was just off the kitchen and was spartan but large and predominately white tile, all it needed was a good sweeping and dusting. Byron bit his lip as he considered Alastair’s beard.

  “I really hope he doesn’t shave it off,” he mumbled to himself as he added the boiling water to the tub. After the third pot, steam rose from the surface and Byron moaned in delight as he lowered into the bath. A lazy smile curved his lips as he sat back and reclined. He knew one really good way to cheer a man up.

  Chapter 7

  Alastair felt pure terror when he opened his eyes. They swept around the ceiling of the hall and his heart slammed against his chest until he reminded himself he was thirty-six, not ten, and his father was dead. The terror returned when Alastair noticed Byron’s bed was empty. He threw the covers back and he sniffed as the alluring scent of coffee tickled his nose. His brows pulled together in confusion as he stumbled toward the smell.

  The kitchen was warm and bright as the early morning sun poured into the windows. Alastair shielded his eyes as he went to the stove and opened the lid of the ancient coffee pot. It smelled dark and rich and heavenly. He heard a soft splash and frowned as he turned and leaned toward the housekeeper’s rooms. There was another splash and his brow rose as he followed the sound.

  “I want you to want me! I need you to need me! I’d love you to love me!” Byron sang and Alastair pulled his lips in as he pushed open the door to the bathroom and had to hang onto the knob for support when he found Byron, naked in the bathtub and scrubbing his hair. His eyes were squeezed shut as water and bubbles dripped down his face. Alastair followed them down his chest and the hard ridges of his abs. He realized he was staring and jumped then turned away before he tapped loudly at the door. Byron paused then slid back until his head was beneath the water and gave it a quick shake. He gasped as he sat up then pushed his hair back, out of his face. “Did I wake you?” He asked and Alastair shook his head and kept his eyes on the wall in front of him.

  “No. I was a little worried when you weren’t in the hall but I followed the smell of coffee then heard you. Is that water actually suitable for bathing?” He asked hopefully and he heard Byron hum. And felt it. It made his sack vibrate and warmth trickled into his groin.

  “I had to run it for about twenty minutes but it’s clean. I’ll get out and drain the wate
r and we can fill it for you. There’s plenty of hot water on the stove,” he said and Alastair’s eyes widened as Byron stood.

  “Should I go get that while you’re getting out?” He asked. “I’m sure you’d like a little privacy,” he added and Byron made a dismissive sound.

  “I got over being modest a long time ago, it was rare for me to have any private time in a bathroom, growing up,” he explained as he pulled the plug and the tub began to drain. Alastair glanced discreetly and swore under his breath. Byron’s ass was breathtaking and he was very well endowed. “And it’s not like the two of us haven’t seen enough naked men to fill a train station,” he joked and Alastair cleared his throat softly.

  “I probably couldn’t fill a car, I’m afraid,” he murmured as he inspected the ceiling. There was a large crack in the plaster.

  “Really? A man like you?” Byron asked and Alastair snorted and pretended he wasn’t watching as he wrapped a dust sheet around his waist.

  “A man like me?” He asked as Byron turned on the water and splashed the sides of the tub to rinse it.

  “You’re not going to pretend you don’t know how hot you are, are you?” Byron said as he straightened. Alastair shook his head as he stared at the mirror.

  “I know I’m an attractive man, I’ve just had to be very cautious because of who I am,” he said loudly over the sound of water filling the tub. Sweat rolled down Alastair’s back as Byron passed him on the way to the door.

  “I get that. I wouldn’t say I’ve fucked enough men to fill a train station, though I’ve ridden a few,” he teased as his chest pressed briefly against Alastair’s back. “Hey, do you mind if I shave while you’re taking your bath? It’s totally cool, if you’d rather I didn’t. I can wait or find another bathroom somewhere,” he said and Alastair shook his head quickly. He didn’t like the idea of Byron wandering around the house again while he was bathing.

  “I don’t mind,” he rasped then coughed. “It’s fine,” he insisted. Even though it wasn’t.

  “Great. I’ll go get the hot water. I’ll be right back,” Byron said then stopped and reached for Alistair’s face. He stifled a shiver as Byron’s hand cradled his jaw. “You should think about keeping this. It works on you,” he said as his thumb swept along his beard then winked before he left.

  “It works,” Alastair whispered as he stared at the door. He was still confused as Byron added the first pot of hot water. He was completely devastated when Byron’s sheet slipped off as he was tipping the third large pot into the tub.

  “Whatever. I’ll remember to at least put on some underwear tomorrow,” he muttered then smiled brightly at Alastair as he waved at the bath. “It’s ready!” He declared proudly, as if he wasn’t completely naked and obviously semi aroused.

  Alastair kept his back turned to Byron as he undressed then quickly hopped into the tub while he was busy applying shaving gel. He didn’t move again until Byron finished shaving. Alastair was mesmerized as he watched him then bathed quickly as Byron dressed. It wasn’t until Alastair was grimacing and settling his own hard-on into his pants that he realized he’d gone almost a full hour without thinking about the house.

  Chapter 8

  “That should be enough to keep everything charged and the main hall well lit,” Alastair said as he used a handkerchief to clean his hands and Byron shook his head in disbelief at the large generator.

  “This is decadent compared to the conditions I’ve worked in,” he said and Alastair snorted as they walked back into the main hall.

  “You haven’t seen the rest of the house,” he murmured and Byron raised a shoulder then cocked his thumb toward the hall that led to the library.

  “I did take a look at the library and the study this morning. The sun should be perfect in there for the next few hours,” he said and Alastair shook his head as he grabbed his messenger bag off the stacked cases of bottled water.

  “The journals won’t be in any of those rooms. They’re somewhere beneath the house in the tunnels and chambers of the cellars,” he explained and Byron felt a rush of adrenaline and gasped.

  “I read that there were tunnels but I didn’t know if they truly existed or were still in use,” he said excitedly and Alastair nodded.

  “They were used for ale, wine and food storage, hiding smuggled goods and as radio bunkers during the war.” He produced a set of plans and rolled them out on the table and Byron felt a little daunted as he scanned. The cellars and tunnels were extensive.

  “What are these?” He asked as he pointed at what looked like small alcoves in the northwest corner and Alastair shook his head then tapped at a spot at the other end of the tunnels.

  “There are vaults and chambers here that weren’t converted after the first great war,” he said and Byron nodded but his eyes kept darting back to the strange alcoves.

  “So we should start there?” He asked and Alastair rubbed his jaw as he considered.

  “Two of the chambers flooded in the early 60’s and they moved whatever could be salvaged to some of the radio bunkers,” he murmured and Byron was a little dizzy and parts of him were tingling.

  “I am so aroused right now!” He whispered loudly and Alastair’s face twisted as he leaned back.

  “This is going to be a very long month, isn’t it?” He asked and Byron winked.

  “I’ll try to make it as painless as possible,” he said then nudged him with his elbow. “This is like Disney for a history nerd,” he added then reached for a lantern. “Let’s go!” He grabbed his cardigan and was shrugging into it as Alastair zipped his coat and grumbled under his breath. Alastair picked up the other lamp then led Byron past the dining room and into the kitchen. They hurried through the wash house and the laundry rooms and out onto a small, circular courtyard that was formerly used for servants and deliveries. He stopped at a large, warped wooden door and Byron held Alastair’s lantern as he pulled it open.

  “Mind your step,” he said and gave Byron a pointed look, warning him.

  They slowly descended a short set of worn and uneven stone steps and Alastair pulled an ancient set of keys out of his pocket when they reached a massive iron door. It took a lot of swearing to get the bolt to turn in the lock but Byron felt like he was home when they were finally able to push the door open. Stale, still, dusty air filled his nose and he felt giddy as they slowly followed a narrow, deteriorating staircase deep beneath the estate. He sniffed and he was met with the unmistakable smell of mold and canvas that always clings to military gear. Byron’s eyes were wide with fascination as he poked his head into rooms with giant maps, rows of desks and long banks of filing cabinets and shelves. Mid-century brick caverns with high, arched ceilings gave way to cruder, natural stones and smaller tunnels. Alastair turned into a large chamber and Byron gasped as he looked up at the vaulted ceiling above them.

  “We’re under the ballroom,” Alastair said and held the lantern in front of him as he slowly turned then chuckled at the rows of shelves lined with wine bottles along the back of the room. Byron’s eyes widened with awe. There were thousands of bottles.

  “All of this belongs to you?” He asked and Alastair nodded.

  “I see no reason why we can’t try to drink as much of this as we can while we’re here,” he said and Byron sighed happily as he put an arm around Alastair.

  “Can you believe I’m getting paid to do this?” He asked and Alastair shook his head.

  “No.” He pointed his chin at the aisles of crates and trunks filling the left half of the room. “This is the biggest collection. There are two smaller rooms beyond this and the rest are in the radio bunkers we passed,” he explained and Byron whistled as he rubbed the back of his neck.

  “This is going to be a big job,” he admitted and Alastair’s eyes narrowed as he considered.

  “Some of these crates, trunks and vessels haven’t been unsealed in hundreds of years. They obviously wouldn’t be in any of those,” he said and Byron’s bro
ws rose.

  “Smart. That might cut our work down significantly,” he mused then shrugged. “Do you want to get started?” He asked and Alastair sighed.

  “We might as well,” he said then pointed at the wine. “I need alcohol,” he declared and Byron wasn’t going to argue.

  “Want me to run up and grab some glasses and an opener?” He asked. They had a really delicious ale with lunch and he was already a little warm and loose despite the dark chill around them. Alastair was raised on it and didn’t appear to be feeling the effects at all.

  “I’ve got an army knife in my pocket. I don’t want us getting separated unless we have to,” Alastair said and Byron frowned as he looked around.

  “It’s not that bad. This feels like a lot of archives I’ve visited in churches and castles,” he said and Alastair shook his head as he pulled a bottle from a shelf and held it up with his lamp and inspected it. He nodded in approval then passed it to Byron and reached for another.

  “You could get hurt,” he muttered as he checked it then put it back. Byron hummed thoughtfully as he rested his shoulder against a shelf.

  “Nooooo… I don’t think that’s it. Your lawyer had me sign a binder of releases. You’re probably allowed to murder me,” he said and a wide smile spread across Alastair’s lips.

  “Now that you mention it,” he said as he pretended to test the weight of the bottle in his hand. “Would you mind looking that way?” He said as he gestured for Byron to turn around. Byron rolled his eyes as he grabbed the bottle.

  “Is this one good?” He asked and Alastair nodded. Byron cocked his head toward the crates. “You’re covered for anything, legally. What are you hiding? As far as I can tell this used to be a really grand estate before you abandoned it. I get why you did it, now, but everyone around here knows about the mad earls and the lost servants and suicides,” he said and Alastair laughed softly.