by Ruby Moone
“What happened?”
“Refused to see us or acknowledge me in any way. Had my mother beaten and thrown out. That’s when I saw his son. His other son. Dressed in silks and lace.” David shook himself. Enough.
“Where did you go?”
“Poor house.”
“Oh, God.”
David shook himself again and rattled through the remainder of his life story. He couldn’t dwell on what happened next. Ever. “I escaped the poor house and went back to the family home. I stole from them, sold the goods to live on.”
Jeremy’s hand on his chest went still. “And your mother?”
David swallowed. And swallowed again. When he spoke, his voice was barely audible. “She died in the poor house.”
The awful words hung in the air.
Jeremy laid his head on David’s chest and held him. His arms wrapped around him and just held him. The strength in those arms was oddly reassuring. Safe.
David allowed it for a moment, then pushed him off. He cleared his throat. Couldn’t dwell on that. Couldn’t dwell on what happened when he got to London either.
“So, I’m good at what I do, I’ve been doing it a long time. I travel the country, select carefully, and never steal from anyone who cannot afford to lose it.” He cleared his throat again. “I’ve had good advice on investing on the new Stock Exchange in London. I’ve invested in India Bonds and Consols. Excellent returns.” Jeremy was still looking at him with sadness in his eyes. “I’m comfortably off now,” he offered in reassurance.
Jeremy propped his head on a hand. “If you are comfortably off, why are you still stealing things?”
David was grateful that he took his lead and steered clear of his disastrous past. “I have people who rely on me, and I like to keep my hand in. You never know when you might need the skills I accumulated over nearly twenty years. In fact, there are people who would actually pay me for them.”
“No, really?”
“Really,” David said, thinking of Charnley.
“You really are a man of many talents.”
“Many, many talents.” David reached out and stroked Jeremy’s arm.
Jeremy’s gaze followed his movement. He hesitated a moment, then spoke. “Have you ever met anyone like me?” There was a stark vulnerability to the words.
David continued his soft stroking. “I have.”
Jeremy eyes were wide and wary. “Really? People like me? People who like to dress in silks?”
David nodded. “There is all manner of people in London.”
“Even people who like to wear ladies clothes?” His tone was self-deprecating. It was almost as if he needed to keep saying it to be sure David understood what he was saying.
“Some like to wear them all the time.”
Jeremy seemed to think about this carefully.
David looked at those beautiful eyes. “Would you…do you wish you were a woman? That you could wear them all the time?”
Jeremy appeared to give the question careful thought before he shook his head. “No. I don’t think I want to be a woman, I just envy them their clothes, the colours and the softness…” He looked up at David. “I would love to make women’s clothes. Design them, sew them. Have all the women of the Ton come to me for their ball gowns, day dresses…” He stopped. “I wish I had long hair.” His eyes were wistful. Thoughtful.
“Go on,” David whispered.
Jeremy sagged a little. “I’m mad. I know that. You don’t have to say it.”
“No, you’re not.” David wanted to…God, he didn’t know what he wanted to do but Jeremy was so…so…
“So, you have met people like me?” The smile dimmed a little. “Have you bedded them?”
David gave him a long look. “I have never bedded anyone like you.”
Jeremy flushed.
“There is a whole world of people out there, Jeremy. A whole world of people who fail to fit, fail to conform to society’s standards and expectations.” He pulled Jeremy into his arms. It was true.
“You have people who rely on you?”
David nodded and kissed his head.
“Who are they?”
“You will meet them when we get to London.”
Jeremy burrowed into his arms. When he spoke, his words were muffled against David’s chest. “Do you miss your mother? I miss mine.”
David’s chest seized. He pressed his face into Jeremy’s hair for a moment until he regained his composure.
“Yes. Now, come on. We need to get up and get on.”
* * * *
Jeremy watched David dress. There was something intimate about sitting fully dressed watching his naked lover wash, shave, and pull on his clothes. Since their conversation about his past, he had definitely withdrawn into himself. Cocooned in the warmth of the bed, he had talked, and Jeremy had felt the depth of emotion pent up inside him, but now it was firmly shut away.
David paused in the act of tying his cravat. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Why are you staring at me? Do I have a smudge?” He carried on winding the long length of linen about his throat, pressing gently on it with his jaw to set the creases. He stood back and inspected himself in the glass.
“You dress like a dandy.”
David laughed. “Says the man who likes to wear dresses.”
Jeremy’s heart jumped for a moment but he saw only humour in David’s eyes and he laughed with him. It had never been a laughing matter, never been anything he could talk about, let alone share a joke with anyone about.
David gave his coat a last brush and dropped his belongings into his bag and closed it.
“Have you been to London before?”
Jeremy nodded. “I was there until recently with Sir Granville’s household.”
“Then we can have some fun. I’ll take you to the theatre.”
“The theatre…I…I would love to but…”
“But what?”
“I have no job or any money.”
“Well, I have enough for both of us.”
“You can’t support me.”
“Why not?”
Jeremy stood and went to stand in front of David. “It wouldn’t be right.”
David studied his bag. “It is entirely my fault that you are in this mess. You were blamed for something I did, and it lost you your livelihood, your good name…” He glanced up at him. “You must allow me to make amends.”
Jeremy wanted to say yes, wanted to fling himself in David’s arms, but he nodded and cleared his throat. “I don’t think I want to say goodbye to you just yet.”
David gave an odd, lopsided smile. “Then let’s not.”
Jeremy held his breath, but David’s next words took the shine off. “After all, it’s not forever, just until we find you another position and you can resume your life.”
* * * *
They ate breakfast in a private parlour and drank coffee with some toast.
“So, does anyone actually call you Albert or do you generally go by David?” He’d been wondering if David had a double life. One in the stews and one in society. If he did, did they never collide?
David gave him a long look with those curious grey green eyes, and then took a sip of his coffee. He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin and laid it carefully on the table before he spoke. He tilted his head to one side. “Last person to call me Albert was shitting teeth for a week.”
Jeremy let out a bark of laughter. David’s tone, his voice, and his manner hadn’t altered a bit, so the coarse remark sounded all the more absurd.
He relaxed his formal pose and smiled. “I kid you not. Don’t ever call me Albert. Fair warning.”
Jeremy laughed again and shook his head. “Cross my heart.” He made a crossing gesture on his jacket.
David drained the last of his coffee. “We should be able to make London before too long. How are your bruises?”
“A little sore, but I’m sure I will be fine.” He had taken more of
the vile draught. He didn’t want to apply more of the salve in case it ruined his new clothes. “Where do you live?”
David appeared to hesitate a moment. “I have a set in Albany. Piccadilly.”
“Albany?” Isn’t that the new place, where Marlborough had a house? I remember Sir Granville talking about it. That’s a bit high in the instep, isn’t it?”
“Exceedingly. I’ll have you know, my consequence is enormous.”
“I can’t go there,” Jeremy said with a disbelieving laugh.
“Why not?”
“Because, I’m a footman.” His voice rose an octave at the notion.
David arched an eyebrow in the most arrogant fashion. “And I am a bastard jewel thief.”
Jeremy held out his hands and shrugged helplessly. How in God’s name could he pretend to belong somewhere like that?
David gave him another look. “Believe in yourself. Believe that you have every right to be there and you will be believed.”
Jeremy couldn’t help but smile. “Is that what you do?”
“Did you have any inkling I was anything other than a fancy gentleman at the Fallows party?”
Jeremy shook his head.
“There you go.”
* * * *
By the time they reached London, Jeremy was fit for nothing. Every part of him ached, including his head, and if he never saw a horse and carriage again it would be far too soon. David had been wonderful, arranging for stops, refreshment, even administering the evil draught for the bruises, but there was only so much jolting and bouncing a body could stand. As they travelled through the streets, David seemed to arrive at a decision.
“We won’t go to Albany.”
Jeremy raised his eyebrows. “Why not?”
“I only really go there when…Well, my house might be better. More comfortable.” He nodded as though confirming something to himself. They drove on, and Jeremy watched the fashionable people going about their lives as they drove past Grosvenor Square. The carried on until they arrived at Wimpole Street. Jeremy looked around as David got out of the carriage and handed the reins to a young boy along with a coin. It was not as fashionable as Sir Granville’s Grosvenor Street address, but very smart.
David reached up to offer Jeremy a hand down. “Before we go in, you need to know something.”
Jeremy’s heart sank. Was this where he introduced his wife?
“Don’t look so suspicious, it’s just that, if you are to stay here for a while, you need to understand.” He cleared his throat. “The people who share a house with me are important to me. Most of us grew up together, and in some way or other looked out for each other. I am determined they will be treated well. I value everything they do, and they are my equal in every way. They take care of me, and in return I take care of them.”
Well, that was puzzling. “As you wish.”
With the horses and carriage safe in the hands of two youthful grooms who grinned and welcomed him, David led Jeremy to a quiet, elegant row of houses, and unlocked the door of one and pushed it open so Jeremy could go ahead of him.
Jeremy stared in amazement. “You open your own door?”
“Largely,” David said with a laugh.
“Lord. Do you have any idea how many hours I have stood by closed doors just waiting to open them for someone to pass through?” Jeremy stepped cautiously over the threshold. It was a beautiful entrance and hallway. Not too big, but elegantly furnished and with dark wood panelling and tastefully subdued fabrics everywhere. Jeremy turned around, taking in the restrained elegance of it all and breathing in the clean scent of beeswax and leather.
“Beautiful colours,” he whispered to David, who was closing the door and cutting down the light.
“Thank you. I can’t claim credit, I had a better man than me on job.” He strode down the corridor and pushed open a door to a bright, airy room was flooded with light and overlooked the small garden to the rear of the house. It looked like a comfortable, informal room decked in shades of palest green. One where a family might gather. After the cold formality of Sir Granville’s house, it was both charming and welcoming.
A tap on the door made him jump, and he turned to find a tall, slender woman wearing an apron over a high-necked cream dress with a small floral print standing in the doorway. Her fair hair was tucked into a lace cap, which was tied neatly under her chin, and she was frowning at David. She looked like a housekeeper.
“You’re later than we expected.”
Jeremy held his breath at the sheer impertinence, his gaze flashing between the newcomer and David.
“Change of plan,” David said with a smile. “Good to see you.” To Jeremy’s amazement, he went and kissed the woman on the cheek. “Mrs. Crawford, may I introduce you to Mr. Jeremy Naylor. Mr. Naylor will be staying with me for a little while. Could you arrange for him to have the blue chamber?”
He turned to Jeremy. “Mr. Naylor, I’d like you to meet Mrs. Josephine Crawford. She looks after us all, keeps us in order, and feeds us.”
Jeremy bowed. “Delighted to meet you.”
Mrs. Crawford bobbed a small curtsey, but the curiosity in her eyes was obvious.
“I will arrange the room. Will you be dining tonight?” She was quietly spoken, with a soft mellowness to her voice.
David glanced at Jeremy with his eyebrows raised in question.
“That would be lovely,” Jeremy offered, not quite sure how to respond. He was usually the one doing the running, not the one giving orders.
Mrs. Crawford nodded. “Spencer and Henson are back.”
“Good. I will speak with him later.”
Mrs. Crawford curtseyed and left them.
“Your house is lovely,” Jeremy said. He couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Jo Crawford may have every appearance of a housekeeper, but she is a very dear friend.” David appeared to be watching him carefully. “I think you will get along famously with her.”
Jeremy smiled, completely bemused. “I hope so.”
David led him about the house, bumping into staff as they went. It seemed to be filled with people. They were all pleased to see David, and he greeted them with charming informality. Parlour maids, footmen, and a host of staff in the kitchen. Whilst they all greeted him politely, it was clear they were surprised to see him there, and more than a little curious. Jeremy made a mental note to ask David about that when he got the chance.
They called into a warm study where a young gentleman with fair hair laboured over a large ledger.
“Mr. Bentley. May I introduce my good friend, Mr. Naylor?”
Mr. Bentley stood and laid his pen carefully on the blotter. He held out a hand which was faintly smudged with ink. Jeremy shook it. “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Bentley said as a lock of hair flopped over his brow. He pushed it back.
Jeremy smiled and nodded and listened politely as David discussed apprentices with him, of all things.
As they pulled the door closed behind them Jeremy glanced at David. “Apprentices?”
David nodded with a frown. “Apprenticeships have long been used to provide cheap labour.”
Jeremy nodded. Some of his childhood friends had become indentured apprentices.
“I thought it might be a better option for some than service, but the reality of it is they are often treated as badly as slaves.”
Jeremy waited for him to make his point.
“I want better than that. I can’t support the Anti-Slavery bill and then force people into positions that simply enslave them another way, can I?”
Jeremy thought about that for a moment. “Sir Granville had a lot to say about the Anti-Slavery bill. He doesn’t talk about it much, but a good deal of his fortune comes from sugar plantations. He has a lot of slaves.”
David looked at him, but his eyes were unreadable. “I’ll wager he’s not a supporter then.”
Jeremy laughed as he recalled the ranting that took place in Sir Granville’s home about the
abolitionists who wanted to stop slavery. “Most definitely not.”
David didn’t laugh with him.
Jeremy sighed. “David, we all have to make a living somehow. The rich either have money in the family that they live off, or they have sugar plantations or the new mills that make them vast sums of money. Either way, they want staff. Call them slaves, call them servants, or call them indentured apprentices. They want people to do the hard work, so they don’t have to. It’s simple, and it’s never going to change.”
“Well, if we don’t start somewhere, it won’t ever change.” David was looking directly at him now, and it made him uncomfortable, as though he’d said too much.
“Being in service is a respectable occupation.” He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to defend himself.
“And being a slave?”
Jeremy sighed. He’d listened to the discussions in Sir Granville’s house. He barely saw them as people. It was easy to push it to the back of one’s mind. But now, standing here with David…
“Horrible. So, you support the abolitionists?”
“I most certainly do.”
A thought struck Jeremy. “With money?”
David shrugged. Jeremy shook his head. This was all getting complicated. It was easier when everyone knew their position.
“All I wanted was to be respectable and make my brother proud. I know it’s only the surface, because underneath it all I know I’m far from respectable. I’m…” He shrugged.
“Being in service is respectable.” David pursed his lips. “I don’t mean to disparage you, but in my view, people should have choices about what they do, and be paid a fair wage. Wouldn’t you rather do something other than be trussed up in a footman’s uniform opening doors for bored aristocrats?”
“My brother is a butler. I could rise to the position of butler if I tried hard enough. I’m just…not very good at trying hard, I suspect.” That was what Elliot had hoped for him. That he was setting him off on the right path to a successful career. In reality, he couldn’t ever imagine being a butler.
“And if that is what you choose to do I applaud your decision. However, I’d like it if people had a choice, and if they were fairly paid for their labours.”
“You seem to have an awful lot of servants,” Jeremy said.