Casting down his pen, Clement stood. “Then you may perfectly well find it yourself, Mr. Midgley!”
The two maids and one stable hand who were breaking their night’s fast in the kitchen went very quiet and still.
Mr. Midgley’s face had gone entirely red except for two white splotches just above his cheeks. “As though you have nothing to do with it! You devil!”
“For mercy’s sake, Mr. Midgley!” Clement’s face felt very hot, and he tensed his fists with determination to keep control of his temper. “I have no idea what has happened to your butler tray. Whatever your personal feelings toward me, it is unbelievably inappropriate of you to intimate that I would intentionally misplace your tray!”
“You—!” Mr. Midgley stamped his feet, shaking with impotent rage. “How dare you! You mock me!”
“I do not mock you, Mr. Midgley,” Clement said. He tightened his jaw, resisting the urge to vent his own pent-up frustration.
“All week, you have gone out of your way to sabotage my efforts! Nay, it is—since we arrived! Since I got my title! Everything you have done, it is to foil my duties and take them for yourself! You have done this, as you have done everything else, to make me seem incompetent.”
“Mr. Midgley,” Clement said, icy with rage and disdain. “All I have done has been in the interests of this household. I have taken—as I now hold—the title of under-butler in order to assist you in your duties, that you may not be overwhelmed. I tell you I have no idea what has befallen your tray, nor, may I say, do I care to know. I am seeing to the wine cellar inventories, which is your duty, a duty that you have left in shambles. I cannot be bothered to aid you in finding a misplaced tray.”
“This will not stand,” Mr. Midgley said. “I will not endure this. Your shameful disregard for authority. Your inexcusable behaviour. And now theft.”
Clement’s heart bubbled with rage. “Theft,” he repeated, fists tight with fury. “Mr. Midgley, I advise you to retract that statement.”
“I will not. In fact, I shall add to your list of crimes. You have misplaced my wine decanter—I found it among the fireplace ashes, filled with soot. You rearranged the dishes in the cupboard with a sort of haphazard madness. You set all the downstairs clocks to different times of the day. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing!”
Staring at him in befuddled shock, Clement’s jaw worked uselessly for several moments before he could find a response. “Mr. Midgley. Have you gone mad?”
“You would like to pretend that, wouldn’t you!” Mr. Midgley raged. “Is that your plan? Paint me as mad, send me to the madhouse, and then you shall have my title!”
Clement restrained himself from informing Mr. Midgley that he could perfectly well have Mr. Midgley’s title if he so much as asked for it, and had in fact declined the title of head butler for Mr. Midgley’s sake. “I tell you again, I have nothing to do with any of your concerns. If someone has taken upon themselves to tease you, then—to be entirely honest, Mr. Midgley—I cannot say I fault them for it, though I think it is certainly most likely that your troubles are entirely paranoid inventions.”
“You—” Mr. Midgley bellowed.
“In either case,” Clement said, speaking over him, “it is not my concern. You are the butler, Mr. Midgley. If you intend to come to me pleading that I fix the problems you yourself have created, then I advise you to make certain they are problems which are worth my trouble. Find your own tray, Mr. Midgley.”
“You think I will not report your villainy to our master?”
“Do so, I pray you. Do you sincerely believe that taking your paranoid rantings to either the master or mistress of the house would result in anything other than your dismissal?”
“So that is your plan!”
Seeing that reasonable argument was not going to aid the situation, Clement sat down and took up his pen. “Good day, Mr. Midgley.”
Mr. Midgley remained where he was, stunned with fury.
“You blue-skinned devil,” Mr. Midgley snapped, and stormed from the room.
The quill in Clement’s hand snapped.
With great force of effort, he set it down. “Miss Glenn,” he said aloud, addressing one of the maids. “Would you kindly fetch me a fresh quill?”
The maidservant scuttled off to obey. A minute later, the other maidservant and the stable hand slunk quietly from the room, leaving Clement alone in his frustrated anger.
Once he finished with the inventories, Clement scrubbed the ink from his hands as best he could, then put his white gloves on to hide the stains. He found Mrs. Ledford in the workroom, pressing the table linens. “Mrs. Ledford.”
She glanced up, recognising Clement and nodding once in acknowledgement.
“May I beg a favour of you? Midgley is obsessed with some manner of paranoid fits, and I cannot have him causing trouble tonight, not with… with Mrs. Devereux’s… occasion requiring my attention. Yours is the only authority he recognises.”
“What will you have me do?”
“Send him away on some task, I beg you. Or ensure that he will be occupied.”
“His prattling strains my patience.”
Clement sighed and nodded, leaning against the doorframe. “I know it.”
“Mrs. Devereux’s requests are being handled. The menu is selected and the repast is being prepared.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Ledford. I am grateful.”
“It’s a very odd request.” Mrs. Ledford set the pressing iron aside, eyes lingering upon Clement. “Mr. Devereux will be away this evening. The repast is for two, and yet I know not who will be partaking of it.”
“I…” Clement folded his arms, letting his posture become informal. “I have complete faith that I can trust your confidence, Mrs. Ledford, but I do not know that you would be pleased. If… if all goes well with tonight’s… occasion, I will reveal the details of it. Until then, I must impose upon your discretion.”
Her gaze was weighty and level. Clement did not allow himself to quail beneath it.
“As you please, Mr. Adair. I’ll ensure that Midgley knows nothing of it and that he keeps out of your way, even though it may mean that he will be in my way.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Ledford.”
Sighing, Clement lingered a moment longer. He intended to set the linens for the table himself, and the ones he would use were already upstairs awaiting him. As much as he longed to begin his planned evening, he likewise dreaded that Hugo would walk into the conservatory, see Clement, and walk straight back out. “I do not know what I shall do about Mr. Midgley. I had hoped that my change of title would aid him. We’ll have a new valet up from London within the month, and I can devote my energies to the stewardship of the house and supporting Mr. Midgley in his role of butler. But it seems that having me officially as his assistant has only made all matters worse.”
Mrs. Ledford made no reply, but she also made no effort to dismiss him or quiet his talking, which Clement had seen her do readily enough on dozens of occasions. Her hand swept the iron across the fabric with brisk, competent motions. It was a soothing process to watch.
“He has become so paranoid that he sounds mad,” Clement said. “I am worried for his nerves, Mrs. Ledford. But I do not know what I may do to ease them. Any effort I might put forth would only worsen the matter, I am certain of it.”
“Clement,” Mrs. Ledford said. She lifted the pressing iron from the cloth and set it back upon the coals of the fire. “You cannot solve all the world’s problems. I advise you not to try.”
“I had hoped, at least, to be able to solve all the household’s problems.”
Mrs. Ledford gave a brief sideways tilt of the head which Clement interpreted as a sort of shrug. “There are some problems that not the most competent butler in the world can solve.”
Clement nodded. When she said nothing further, he pushed away from the wall and set off upstairs to fetch the linens for the conservatory.
Once the table had been laid, Clement locked
the conservatory. The only copies of the key belonged to himself, the gardener, and Mrs. Ledford, so the set table would be safe until evening.
The herd could be seen across the stew pond, grazing on the sweet meadow grasses in their enclosure. One of the stable hands was amongst them, but Clement could not tell, at that distance, which one.
He found Letty in the upstairs parlour, at work by herself mending a skirt hem.
“Letty,” Clement greeted her, shutting the door behind himself and coming over to take a seat.
She offered a smile. “Are you excited?”
“I am too busy to be excited, and otherwise too fraught with nerves.”
“Then I shall be excited on your behalf.”
Clement laughed wearily. “I do appreciate that.”
He relaxed into the chair, glancing out the window. “You may scold me for it, but I have not yet asked Hugo to dinner this evening.”
Letty sat up a little straighter, tone playfully arch, though she did not take her eyes off her mending. “His attendance is a significantly important portion of the evening’s proceedings, as I understand it.”
Clement smiled. “You are teasing me.”
“I am. What, will you avoid telling him until the evening is over and the opportunity lost?”
“Mayhap. I am afraid that if I ask him, he will refuse.”
“If you do not ask him, he will not be able to accept.”
“I thought,” Clement said, “that I might ask you to fetch him for me.”
“Shall I woo him on your behalf, as well? You’ll have to arm me with one of Hildebert’s poems. That will have him swooning into your arms.”
“Letty!” Clement shook his head, overcome with a fit of laughter. “When it is time, I would have you go and tell him he is needed in the conservatory. Do not say why.”
“Ah, so it is to be an ambush. A romantic ambush. I rather like that.”
“It isn’t an ambush. It is a surprise.”
“I am of the understanding that most ambushes are, indeed, a surprise.”
“Letty!” Laughing again, Clement got to his feet in much better humour than he had come. “Say you will do it for me.”
“Aye, I will fetch your wayward beloved to dine with you in your garden bower, et cetera, et cetera.”
“Letty,” Clement said, grinning. “Be careful about speaking in such a manner around Hildebert. Before you know it, we’ll have you to be our poet.”
“Oh, begone with you!” Letty complained, laughing. She threw a pincushion at him.
Pausing in the doorway, Clement looked back over his shoulder. “Letty…”
Her head tilted in the same way that Titania’s did when presented with a query.
“Midgley said something about someone misplacing his wine decanter, and that all the clocks downstairs had been set to the wrong times. Do you know anything of it?”
“Mischief on Midgley? Hum.” Letty lifted her brows innocently and returned her attention to her stitches. “If I did know something of it, Clement, do you suppose I would confess?”
“I suppose not. But, Letty, if you do know something about it, see to it that it stops.”
“A bit of mischief! Clement, pray, are you his preserver now? How you fuss.”
“The man is on the verge of a conniption. I should hope that any such perpetrator of mischief would be prepared for the blot on their soul if their mirth were to harry a man to his death.”
Letty rolled her eyes toward heaven.
As evening fell, Clement went with Letty out to unlock the conservatory. He unlocked first the door nearest the house, and then gave the keys to Letty so that she might continue through and unlock the door nearest the stable, and then on to fetch Hugo.
The keys jingled in her hand, and she paused for just a moment, glancing over to smile at Clement.
Mrs. Ledford had completed her part of the arrangements admirably. The table was arrayed with a luxurious variety of little cakes and tarts, piled upon tiered trays. Red wine sparkled in a decanter, accompanied by two crystal goblets.
A single taper candle lit the centre of the table. Clement lifted it, going around the edges of the two crescent-shaped pools to light the waiting array of smaller candles.
The end result was a fairy-ring of lights, flickering flames reflected in the water of the pools. Clement’s heart quickened with anticipation.
He placed the taper back in the centre of the table, pacing in restless arcs along the tiled floor as he waited for Hugo.
“Clement.”
Startled by Hugo’s voice, Clement spun so quickly that he nearly tumbled into one of the decorative pools. “Hugo.”
The groomsman hesitated at the edge of the ring of fairy lights, limned in gold by their soft light. It gilded his brown hair and plain features, softening them into a princely charm.
“I wasn’t certain if you would come,” Clement admitted.
“Come to…” Hugo shook his head, looking around at the arrangement of food and candles in confusion. “What is all this?”
Clement opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat. He swallowed. “Dinner.”
“Dinner,” Hugo repeated, brow furled. “For… for whom?”
“For you. If it pleases you. I wanted to do this for you.”
Hugo’s expression shifted. Confusion, mirth, pleasure and doubt mingled on his face, but he did take a step forward into the tiled ring. “This is too grand for me.”
“Too grand for every day, perhaps,” Clement agreed, drawing out one of the chairs for him. “But perhaps on occasions, if it would please you. And, for ordinary days, if you will consider giving me another chance, I would like to finally take you up on your invitation to dinner. I pray you, sit.”
Hugo took another step forward. He regarded Clement warily. “Will you really come to dinner? Can I believe that it will be more than once every two months?”
“Have you heard I’m no longer to be Hildebert’s valet?”
Surprise washed over Hugo’s face. “No. I hadn’t.”
“Sit. Please.”
Hugo sat.
“I’ve been given the title of under-butler,” Clement explained, pouring them each a glass of wine before taking his seat across from Hugo. “There are still quite a few things that are uncertain and unsettled, but I am already devoted to the household, not to Hildebert. He’s better settled now that he’s started to take an interest in the animals of the estate, and I hope yet to draw his attention likewise to the grounds. I’ll still be busy, but I… I am resolved. If you still desire my friendship, it is yours.”
Hugo took his wine, clasping the delicate goblet carefully between his hands. “And more than friendship?”
“And… and more than friendship,” Clement confirmed, nervous but deeply hopeful. “If you’ll have me. Your good opinion is important to me, Hugo. I will do everything in my power to maintain it. I may not be able to make time for you every day, but I shall do so at least thrice a week. And perhaps, if you are not too busy likewise, we will synchronise at least once a week.”
“I could accept that.” Smiling, Hugo sipped at his wine, eyes widening at the taste of it. “This is … very good wine.”
“I hope that the food will be very good, likewise. Jane, Letty, and Mrs. Ledford all went to some lengths to help me arrange this.”
“They… know?”
Ducking his head, Clement took a sip of his own wine. “To varying extents. If nothing else, they know that we have a very warm friendship, which I had damaged through neglect, and which I desired to restore.”
Hugo’s smile warmed and widened back to the level of affection and good humour which Clement had remembered of him. “Tell me all about this change to under-butler and the new valet. I am searingly curious as to how all of this came about.”
Helping himself to some of the food, Clement told him everything that had come to pass, from his frustrations with Midgley to Jane’s newfound interest in the estat
e management, and even the offer of the stewardship of the estate. Hugo listened with attentive interest, and the conversation wandered from there to the cattle, and the gardens, and looped twice around to the progress of the hedges, which they judged to be slow.
Clement hardly noticed the passage of time until one of the candles guttered. The ring of candles was burning low and the evening had grown late.
“Shall we to bed?” Hugo asked, rising to his feet.
There was a basket set beneath the table, and the two of them stacked the dishes tidily away into the basket. They bundled the last few tarts and pies into a napkin, and left the basket beneath the table, as Letty had promised to come and fetch it early in the morning.
When that was done, Clement took Hugo’s hand, and the two of them walked together through the conservatory in the direction of the stables.
“I should have brought the taper instead of blowing it out,” Clement said, as the leafy darkness of the conservatory constricted around them.
“We shall manage,” Hugo said. “It is not so far, and this way…” Holding open the conservatory door, Hugo drew Clement through it and then lifted his chin toward the heavens. “We can admire the stars.”
Clement smiled wider than he had thought possible, tilting his head back to see the silvery swathe of the milky way across the dark sky. “The heavens have sent us a clear night.”
“That was thoughtful of them.”
Laughing, Clement tugged him close, winding his arms around Hugo’s waist. Hugo’s body was warm and solid against his own, and the sensation of simply embracing someone like this, sweet and unhurried, with a deep intimacy, was entirely new to him. Hugo’s breath came in soft, slightly quick puffs against his lips.
Clement tilted his head and secured Hugo’s mouth in a kiss.
He tasted sweet, of fruit tarts and mincemeat pies. His arms wrapped around Clement’s shoulders as they kissed.
In harmony, the two of them shifted, rejoined hands, and continued along their way. Hugo led him unerringly across the dark lawn and up the stairs to his rooms above the stables.
It was cosy in the little room, and dark. Clement could only see the outline of Hugo in the darkness, but he could feel Hugo’s warm hands on his waist, and Hugo’s hair tickling at his cheek as Hugo leaned in to trail kisses along his throat.
The Valet and the Stable Groom Page 20