Mr. Busick paused as he saw Clement, then continued down the hall to stand beside him. “You’ve stopped.”
Up close, Clement found that Mr. Busick was quite tall, even despite his age. He had to tilt his head up to query the former butler. “Stopped?”
“You typically move so quickly. It is unusual to see you still.”
“Even I grow tired from time to time, Mr. Busick.”
“I find,” Mr. Busick said, his words slow and methodical as they stood together in the darkened hallway, “that it is best to pace oneself, even when you are at your busiest. You’ll get more done when you’re well-rested than if you push through and try to function despite your exhaustion. Naps, you see. Naps are the keystone of a decent butler.”
Clement smiled at the advice, which was very different from the normal guidance for butlers. “I will try to keep that in mind, Mr. Busick, but I am not a butler.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Not in title.”
“My mistake, then,” said Mr. Busick, continuing along his way down the hall. “I took you for a man of ambition.”
Clement stared after him. “Mr. Busick!”
The old footman stopped and looked back at him.
“What the deuce can you mean?” Clement demanded.
The flicker of the candle flame made Mr. Busick’s mouth seem to curve in a smile. “The things that one wants, Mr. Adair, are never easy or convenient. If you want them, you must make the time to seize your desires. And your ambitions. As the case may be.”
Clement bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself silent.
“Good evening, Mr. Adair,” said Mr. Busick, and went on his way.
Staring after him even long after Mr. Busick’s light had receded and vanished down the corridor, Clement’s head spun with half-formed thoughts and uncertain desires.
Part III
Chapter 17
“Clement!” Letty called, the swift steps of her running feet audible in the hall before she burst through the doorway to the servants’ kitchen. “Clement, come and see.”
Startled in the midst of his meal, Clement blinked, holding his fork with one hand and a pen with the other as he reviewed Hildebert’s social calendar and invitations, deciding which of them—without consultation to his master—Hildebert would attend.
“Come and see what?”
“The cows, Clement!” Letty stamped her foot with impatience. “They have come!”
Clement scrambled to his feet, tucking the waiting invitations into the calendar and the calendar under his arm. “Where?”
Letty didn’t answer, she just darted away.
Despite his impatience and curiosity, Clement was unwilling to run, which meant that Letty was forced now and then to stop and wait in a doorway or at the end of a hall as she led the way out to the front steps.
The cattle herd was close now. It trailed back as far as the north road that ran alongside the lands of Hildebert’s estate, and had straggled from there halfway up the long drive. Hugo rode at the head, looking as fine as any lord on a shining chestnut horse. Two strangers—footmen, cattle drivers, or stable hands—followed the herd, one along and one behind, while the energetic cattle dogs from the stables patrolled the back and sides of the herd, nipping at the heels of the cows to drive them along.
At the fork in the drive, Hugo turned the procession aside, leading the cows and their herders around the side of the house by the long drive that passed the stables and the stew pond and around to the waiting meadows where a cursory fence and a shelter had been built.
It was difficult to count the cattle with so much movement in the herd, but Clement estimated that he could see twenty-five, just as Hugo had said.
“So, we are cattle herders now,” Letty said. Her arms were folded over her chest, but she was grinning.
“We are not,” Clement said. “Or at least I most sincerely hope not. Hugo and his men will see to the herding.”
“And the milking,” said Letty. “And the butchery. All that delicious beef.”
Startled into a laugh, Clement shook his head. “Letty!”
“What, you don’t see those cows and find your mouth watering thinking of the meat pies and roasts that are to come?”
“It was not my first thought, no.”
Smiling fondly, Clement turned back toward the house. A small crowd of curious servants had gathered. “Letty, go and tell Jane. She will want to know, and may care to inspect the herd. I shall certainly insist that Hildebert do so.”
“Yes, sir,” Letty said, with a cheeky smile.
Clement drew a breath to correct her, then thought the better of it and kept his mouth shut.
Hildebert was easily found among the general fascinated murmur of servants in the sunroom at the back of the house.
“Sir,” Clement said, striding up and touching a hand to Hildebert’s elbow in order to guide and encourage him forward. “You’ll be wanting to oversee the arrival of your new property. Everything is prepared and waiting.”
“Oh, yes. Yes, certainly. Cattle, Clement!” Hildebert trotted obediently in the direction indicated, eyes wide. “Do you suppose they bite?”
Clement had no idea whatsoever regarding the biting habits of cattle. “I am certain we will have no need to handle the creatures personally, sir. Mr. Ogden has everything well in hand.”
“Oh, yes,” Hildebert said. “Mr. Ogden would, I suppose. I am glad he is so very clever. I do not know what we should ever do without him! We would have no cattle, I suppose. Or dogs. Or horses.”
Hugo was still mounted as Clement and Hildebert reached the cattle enclosure. The new-planted hedges were small yet, and needed months or perhaps a year before they’d be enough on their own to keep back the cattle, but their present herd was small enough to be kept in the makeshift enclosure that had been built. Clement could see the space drawn by the hedges, which was four times the size of the enclosure, and supposed that perhaps, as the years passed and the herd grew, the hedges could be expanded.
At the sight of his employer, Hugo lifted a hand to wave, then rode over to the gate where they stood. He dismounted with perfect form, as best as Clement could tell. Sunlight crested over his brown hair and warmed his skin to a handsome golden colour as he strode the remaining two steps to stand in front of Hildebert.
“Your cattle, my lord,” said Hugo, with a smile and a sweep of his arm.
“They are impeccable, Mr. Ogden,” said Hildebert. “Very handsome, as cows go. Wouldn’t you agree, Clement?”
Clement had no standards by which to judge the relative handsomeness of cows, and did not believe that Hildebert did, either. “Er, certainly. As cows go.”
“There are several calves in the herd, sir. Would you like to make their acquaintance?”
“Oh, very much so!” Hildebert said, clapping his hands together with glee like a boy. “I have never before made the acquaintance of a calf.”
Clement was reminded, fleetingly, of Letty’s comment about butchery, and decided not to remind Hildebert that he’d eaten veal for dinner just the day before.
“Mr. Ogden,” Clement said, as the two of them were turning away. “If I may have a word?”
“To be sure.” Hugo nodded once to him, then summoned one of the stable hands to take on the task of introducing Hildebert to his new cattle. Opening the gate, Hugo let Hildebert in and himself out, watching their master make his way across the field for a moment before turning his full attention to Clement. “Mr. Adair.”
The formality of his surname stung. Clement had used Hugo’s surname a moment before only because they were in Hildebert’s presence, but now there were no other ears in their immediate vicinity and no need to stand on ceremony. “All is as you expected with the cattle herd, I trust?”
“It is.” Hugo’s voice was calm, with the familiar warm rumble to it, but the warmth of his tone was no different than the friendly professionalism he had offered a moment before to Hildebert.
&nb
sp; “And the numbers you gave me?”
“Some slight modifications. We were able to secure less calves than I had wanted, but an additional cow in good health.”
“Hugo,” Clement said. He was unsure what to say.
Expression guarded, Hugo met his eyes with a waiting silence.
“I meant to visit last night,” Clement said. “But you had dined late with Hildebert.”
“You have meant to visit, Mr. Adair, for some weeks now,” said Hugo. “I confess I’ve grown tired of waiting.”
Without even a smile to soften his words, Hugo turned away, and returned to his herd.
Clement returned to the house in a daze.
It was a sunny day, and increasingly hot as the sun rose higher in the sky. The doors and windows of the sunroom were thrown open to let in the breeze. Curtains snapped and billowed on either side of him as he walked through.
His feet took him upstairs, feeling both lost and certain as he made his way along the hall. Hildebert would be kept safely out of trouble for at least an hour under Hugo’s supervision, and perhaps for the entire day. Hugo knew his work, and the cattle would be in good hands.
Clement rapped at the door to Jane’s parlour.
“Come in!” she called.
Jane and Letty stood by the open window, peeking out at the cattle proceedings with great interest. At Clement’s entrance, Letty smiled, came over to the table, and sat. “How are the cows, Clement?”
“In excellent health, as I understand it,” Clement said. He had hoped to find Letty alone, but there was no help to be had for that now. Shutting the door behind himself, Clement hesitated by it. “I suppose there’s no need to ask whether I can trust you both with my secrets.”
“Clement!” Jane exclaimed. “Why, whatever is the matter?”
The expression upon her face was of such earnest concern that it made Clement smile with fondness. He was surprised to find, after all of Letty’s teasing on the subject, that he thought of them both as his friends, and he was most warmly glad to have them.
“I have an idea,” Clement said, coming to join the two of them at the table. “But I am going to need your help enacting it.”
Letty grinned, placing both of her elbows upon the table and leaning forward. “Tell!”
“You may know that I had begun to forge a most sincere friendship with Mr. Ogden, the stable groom, and I do greatly value his friendship. It devastates me to realise that in the course of my duties, I have neglected this friendship, and I have sorely wronged him.”
“Oh, Clement,” Jane said. “I am sorry for that.”
“I think that I ought, just once, make him a priority above all else. An evening. Something special, such as will serve as apology and surety for my earnest intentions.”
Letty and Jane exchanged a glance. Letty’s mouth tilted with a grin.
“I’m going to need your assistance, if you’re willing.”
“Of course, Clement,” Jane said. “What shall we?”
“It will have to be this Sunday, I think. We shall be on half staff, as it is Sunday, and Hildebert is going to Lord Evesham’s for supper and cards. Oh, I must remember to tell him as much. I have put it on his social calendar, but he is not yet aware of his engagement for the evening.”
Jane endeavoured to hide a smile behind her hand. “Sunday, then.”
“I’d like… there is a pretty table in the conservatory. A circular space at the centre. It would be a very winning place to set a supper. Perhaps with an array of candles all about the ring. I shall need Miss Grant’s permission and complicity, but I am certain I can secure it.”
“The conservatory,” Jane repeated, nodding to show that she had committed the details to memory.
“What I need are the candles and the supper. Mrs. Ledford can be trusted, but we cannot reveal a thing to Mr. Midgley. Letty, if you might secure the candles, and—Mrs. Devereux, if you will secure me some manner of repast. It does not need to be anything remarkable, just a bit of something worthy of… a sincere apology, and a gesture of… of friendship. You may send Mrs. Ledford to me for the details, I need only for you to authorise some small repast, perhaps a picnic, to be enacted quietly and delivered Sunday to the conservatory.”
“You’ve changed, Clement,” Letty said, watching him with a tiny furrow between her brows. “Even just since yesterday.”
Surprised, Clement blinked at her.
“You are more assertive,” Jane confirmed, smiling. “It suits you.”
Letty propped her chin in her hands as she watched Clement. “You seem like a proper butler now. You have the confidence, such as Midgley never did. Oh, and there’s our trouble! Midgley!”
Despite himself, Clement felt the corners of his lips tug to either side. “I thought it was Ledford who was the target of your especial dislike.”
“Oh, it is,” Letty huffed. “But even I must admit that the old witch knows what she is about. Midgley, I think, is made up entirely of feathers and molasses.”
Jane whooped, then tried to smother it into a cough.
“Don’t be cruel, Letty,” Clement scolded.
“It is true, though, Clement,” Jane said. “He isn’t suited to his position. You’re doing the job of butler.”
“I’m doing some small tasks. Nothing of significance.”
“Clement,” Jane said. “You must see that the situation is untenable.”
Clement set his jaw. “Madam, he is the butler. My duty is to ensure the smooth function and continued prosperity of this household, but I will not overstep my place.”
Jane arched one smooth brown brow at him. Clement held her gaze.
“I am resolved to have him turned off, Clement.”
“Madam,” Clement said, voice brittle with stubbornness. “I beg that you will not. It would ruin him.”
Jane startled, her determination fading into uncertainty.
“He is past the age of ambition. At this point in his career, he ought to have a permanent place in a respectable household. He had one and we took him from it. To be turned off from a hardly-known rural household as a failed butler… He’d have to take a position as an under-butler again, in some household less respectable than ours, and—to be entirely candid, madam—there simply aren’t many households less respectable than ours which employ under-butlers. Even we do not. Either he would need to demean himself with some position well beneath his value and unsuited for his age, or he would find himself destitute.”
“He may be retired,” Jane suggested. “Turned off gently, with a pension and a place in Gennerly village.”
“And yet he is too young to be retired,” Clement insisted. “He is more than fit to work. To dismiss him permanently would isolate him and break his spirit. I beg you, madam. Let him stay. I will aid him in his work.”
“On one condition, Clement,” Jane said. “No, two.”
“Madam.”
“Hire a valet for Hildebert. Promptly. That role has become beneath you, Clement, and your effort is more needed elsewhere.”
Clement’s lips parted in surprise. He swallowed thickly, feeling like a failure to be turned off as a valet, even though it was clear that Jane was offering a promotion. “And the second?”
“Take the title of steward.”
Skin prickling, Clement stared at her, thinking through the offer and what it entailed. “I cannot.”
“Clement.”
“Madam,” Clement said, lifting his chin with determination. “It does not solve the trouble of Midgley. I would still be doing the tasks of both butler and steward. It would be an unbearable insult to him, as I would constantly be going both above and behind his authority in order to keep the household functioning.”
“I still insist upon the new valet.”
Clement nodded. “I shall see to it.”
“And what title shall you have, then, Clement?”
Dropping his eyes, Clement thought for only a moment before he knew. “Under-butler,” he decide
d, getting to his feet even though he had not yet been dismissed. “I will be your under-butler, madam.”
Jane and Letty were both silent, and Clement felt a sick dissatisfaction lingering in the room. None of them were pleased with the resolution, but it was clear that there could be no other option. To depose Midgley would be to ruin him, and Clement would not do that to anyone.
Chapter 18
“What have you done with it, you usurping devil?”
Clement looked up in surprise from his lists of the wine cellar inventory as Mr. Midgley stormed into the servants’ kitchen. “Whatever can you mean, Mr. Midgley?”
“As though you didn’t know! You serpent! You villain! My butler tray.”
Clement was grateful for his complexion and the way it helped to hide the heat and drain of his cheeks following the muddle of confusion, mirth, irritation, and exasperation that he felt in the wake of that comment. Mr. Midgley’s butler tray was his greatest object of pride, a finely-etched silver platter which had been bestowed upon him by Lord Devereux himself. Mr. Midgley used it for all manner of tasks, foremost of which was the carrying of wine bottles up from the cellar to be decanted, a duty in which he took the utmost pride. When it was not otherwise employed in Mr. Midgley’s service, the tray sat upon the entry-hall table, where it served to collect calling-cards from any visitors who might drop by unexpected. Mr. Midgley received these with great dignity, combed over them and kept a detailed log—the only detailed log, in Clement’s observation, that Mr. Midgley bothered to keep—of the visitors and their requests, after which he delivered the cards to Clement to inform Hildebert and reply appropriately.
“Mr. Midgley,” Clement said, filling his tone with authority. “I have no idea where you may have misplaced your tray, but I am certain it cannot have wandered far. Enquire with the maids. Perhaps one of them took it to be polished.”
Drawing himself up to his full portly height, Mr. Midgley spluttered with offended indignation. “I… you… I polish it myself!”
The Valet and the Stable Groom Page 19