Manservant

by Harwood, Michael

  There were so many direct questions I wanted to ask, but unless I wanted to answer some pretty probing questions myself, I would be forced to keep it vague.

  “She’s coming to stay next week—I just wanted to make sure I knew what I was in for.”

  “I have heard whispers that she’s not been herself lately. She’s hardly left the apartment in New York for weeks. Not even to go shopping, which is totally unlike her.”

  “Any idea what’s up with her?”

  “Anthony, of course I know what’s wrong with her, but you know I hate to gossip, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do, Maria—we all know wild horses couldn’t drag a secret from between those luscious red lips of yours.” I laughed. I knew perfectly well that she’d spill the beans eventually, but not before she made me work for it.

  “I mean if anyone were to find out that I was being indiscreet, well, I shudder to think what would happen.”

  “Come on, Maria, just tell me what you know.”

  “Have you ever heard of Lloyd Maxwell?”

  “The artist?”

  “The very same. Well, let’s just say that Lady Elizabeth Shanderson has been a most generous patron of the arts where young Lloyd is concerned.”

  “Are you saying she’s having an affair with him?” I said, trying to keep the note of delight out of my voice.

  “Past tense, darling. She dropped him like a hot brick last month—the poor lamb is devastated. He’s canceled a huge show at the Gagosian Gallery in LA. He says he might never be able to paint again.”

  I knew exactly who Lloyd Maxwell was. He was the sexiest thing to come out of the art world for years, and he knew it. He’d even modeled for GQ magazine a few months earlier, smoldering in front of some of the huge abstract canvases that made him famous, wearing nothing but his designer underpants.

  “Well, say what you want about Lady Shanderson, she’s got excellent taste in men,” I said with a genuine note of admiration.

  “Are you talking about her ex-lover or her husband?” Maria asked.

  “Maria!” I protested. “Her toyboy lover, obviously.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Lord Shanderson is quite handsome if you like that kind of thing. You can’t seriously expect me to believe that you haven’t noticed.”

  “Oh, Maria, I’ve just seen the time—I’ve got to get back to the cottage to change for dinner, otherwise I’ll be late. Love you! Call me next week.”

  For the rest of the week I managed to not allow myself to be drawn into the mounting hysteria generated by Lady Shanderson’s visit. Vera and Gloria whipped themselves up into such a frenzy about every tiny detail that I avoided the kitchen whenever possible, thinking it best to let them argue it out between them as to whether pink roses or white lilies were a more suitable replacement for orchids.

  But whilst chaos reigned below stairs, things continued as usual between His Lordship and me. In fact, at no point was the subject of his wife’s visit raised by either of us, and that suited me fine. I could understand that she had to show her face from time to time if only to keep up the pretense.

  “I’d like you to come to London with me tomorrow,” he said to me as I was pouring his wine at dinner.

  “I see. And will this be business or pleasure?” I asked.

  “Let’s agree that it could well turn out to be a bit of both,” he said with a smile.

  “So what is the occasion?” I asked, feeling a thrill at the thought of being in London and away from Beadale with him.

  “Well, I have to see my solicitor, and you have an appointment too.”

  “Why would I need to see your solicitor?” I asked.

  “No, I’m seeing the solicitor. You have an appointment to be fitted for a suit at Gieves and Hawkes on Savile Row—it’s a little gift in recognition of all your hard work.”

  I was standing rooted to the spot with the wine bottle hovering in midair when he reached up and hooked his arm around my neck, pulling me in for a deep, lingering kiss.

  His breath was hot and tasted of red wine. I could barely bring myself to pull away, but I needed to know more.

  “Oh, wow! Thank you,” I said. “I’ve always dreamed about having a bespoke suit.”

  “I had a feeling you might,” he said, draining his claret. “Now, Anthony, we will need to set off quite early tomorrow, so why don’t we both have an early night? We can save all the real fun and games for The Dorchester.”

  “So we’re staying the night in London?” I said.

  “Yes, just one. I have my usual suite at The Dorchester. One never knows when one might need to get away from all the prying eyes at Dugdale House. The suite has an adjoining room for a manservant, so no eyebrows will be raised. Just make sure you ruffle up the sheets before housekeeping comes in!” He stood up from the table and kissed me again before heading for the door. “Get some rest. I want you in top form tomorrow.”

  I was so excited about our trip to London that I wasn’t the least bit tired when I got back to the cottage. I packed a case, selecting only smart clothes. I would, after all, have to play the part of Lord Shanderson’s valet to the full, and although we would be sharing a bed for the first time, I would still have to look like staff to any prying eyes.

  I picked up my phone and brought up Chris’s number. It was a bit too late to call, so I decided to text him instead.

  Batten down the hatches, bitch! I’m coming to

  London tomorrow—R U in town? I have an

  appointment in the West End. Could meet for

  drink in Soho around 5ish? Let me know.—X

  Now I was doubly excited about my trip at the thought of being able to catch up with Chris—I had so much to tell him I’d be hard-pressed to fit it all into a quick drink. Then my phone vibrated.

  Baby Girrrl ! You are shit out of luck—I’m in LA

  until Friday. When you next in town? Does Frank

  know you are coming?—He’s been asking about

  you. Are you staying at the flat? If so, I have

  drunk all your decent wine soz.

  My first thought when I read Chris’s text was Frank’s been asking about me? I had a split-second flashback and felt a flutter of butterflies at the thought of a naked Frank standing in my kitchen with his arms around my neck. I had had no idea Chris and he had kept in touch.

  Maybe I would call Frank and see if he wanted to meet me for a drink instead.

  I was up, dressed, and over at the castle by 7 a.m. the following morning.

  By the time I was ready to wake His Lordship, I’d steamed both suits he’d left out, polished the shoes, and had everything packed and ready to put in the car. I prepared a tea tray and went up to his room to wake him.

  “Good morning!” I said cheerily as I flung open the curtains.

  As usual he was lying naked in a tangle of sheets, and I deliberately averted my eyes in case I found myself diving on the bed and ravaging him right there and then. He stretched and yawned for a few seconds before eventually opening his eyes.

  “That’s a fine sight to wake up to,” he said with a grin.

  “I take it you are talking about the tea, Drummond,” I replied, placing the tray over his lap.

  “I’m talking about you.” He took my hand and pulled me toward him. “And the tea of course. You make a lovely cup of tea.” He kissed me briefly before letting me go.

  “Tom has the car ready, and I have all your bags packed. Your navy double-breasted suit is hanging in the dressing room, and I’ve taken out the Dunhill cufflinks and your regimental tie. We are ready to go whenever you are.”

  I scooped up his discarded trousers from the floor and had begun to fold them neatly over the back of the chair when he began to speak.

  “You think of everything, Anthony. Absolutely everything. And that’s why I love you.”

  Thank God I had my back to him, otherwise he might have seen my eyes grow to the size of dinner plates. I was certain he meant it in the very broadest
sense, but even so, those last few words hit me like a cricket bat around the head.

  “Come on,” I said, still not looking at him. “The sooner you are up and dressed, the sooner we can go.”

  I left him to bathe and dress whilst I took the cases down to the car. I convinced myself that what he had just said was a slip of the tongue or a figure of speech. But whatever it was, it was proving difficult to convince myself he hadn’t said it at all.

  “That it?” Tom said when I placed His Lordship’s bags by the car.

  He was suited and booted and looked pleased to have a driving assignment that would require him to drive farther than Westcourt Village.

  “No, I have a bag too; I just need to go and grab it.”

  “Are you going with him?” Tom asked.

  “Yes, I have an appointment in London too,” I said, before heading off to fetch my bag from the hallway.

  If Tom was suspicious of my reasons for accompanying His Lordship, he didn’t show it. For all I knew Drummond always took his butler with him when he traveled, but to be honest until now I hadn’t really given it any thought. Another thing I hadn’t stopped to think about was whether or not I should sit in the front of the car with Tom or in the back with Drummond. There’d be no time to ask him before he came down, so I just hovered around with Tom as we waited.

  Ten minutes later Drummond came out of the front door of the castle and crunched his way over the gravel toward the car. Tom immediately stood to attention and held open the rear door whilst I stood by his side.

  Before he climbed in Drummond slipped off the thick cashmere overcoat he was wearing and handed it to me.

  Once he was in his seat Tom went to close the door, but Drummond held his hand out to stop him.

  “What are you waiting for?” he said, looking at me. “Get in; we haven’t got all day.”

  I climbed in beside him and stared out of the window so that he couldn’t see the stupid grin creeping across my face. Seconds later I felt his hand slowly move under the overcoat I had placed over my lap and slide up my thigh. He hadn’t looked at me since we got in the car and was still looking out of the window as we drove through the estate gates and onto the main road. He tightened his grip on me before he spoke in a voice just low enough that I would be able to hear but not Tom.

  “I can’t wait to get you all to myself tonight.”

  The drive to London seemed quicker than usual somehow. Drummond and I barely spoke, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, just normal really. I couldn’t exactly strike up a conversation with him about where he was going to take me for dinner with Tom in the driver’s seat, so as Drummond buried his head in the day’s papers I discreetly took out my phone and checked my messages.

  The first one was from Maria, and I instantly felt bad for not calling her. She didn’t take kindly to being ignored and said as much in her text:

  ARE U DEAD OR SOMETHING?

  I had so much to tell her that I decided to call her when I got to the hotel rather than text. With any luck she’d be able to swing by for a drink and I’d be able to fill her in on the madness of Castle Beadale. I stifled a laugh when I imagined what her reaction would be when I finally told her what I’d been up to with her boss’s son-in-law.

  The second message wasn’t so easy to deal with.

  Where U stayin in London? Can I come and say hello? I really want to see you.—Frank X

  Fuck! Chris must have spoken to him, I thought as I stared at the tiny screen. I’ll kill him when I see him.

  Of course I could have just ignored the text. I could even have told Frank I was busy. I could have lied about where I was staying. But I didn’t.

  IM staying at the Dorchester, but with boss. Could meet for coffee at 4?

  I pressed Send before I had a chance to change my mind. Anyway, it was only a coffee with a mate. No harm in that.

  Tom steered the Bentley off Park Lane and onto the small forecourt of The Dorchester Hotel. The second he killed the engine not one but two uniformed doormen simultaneously opened the rear doors of the car. I instinctively went to the rear of the car to retrieve the bags, but yet another Dorchester employee was already on it.

  “Pick us up at 4 p.m. tomorrow,” Drummond said to Tom, before marching into the hotel lobby.

  I waved and smiled at Tom before following His Lordship inside.

  The lobby of The Dorchester is as rich and opulent as its well-heeled clientele. Everything about it screams money, from the oversized chandeliers to the enormous bronze urn in the center of the room overflowing with exotic flowers. It’s one of those places where you have to squint to take it all in.

  I must have been too busy checking out the room, because when I looked around I couldn’t see Drummond anywhere.

  I expected to see him at the front desk checking in, but caught a glimpse of the back of him as he marched round the corner toward the lifts. I quickly followed him, managing to jump through the lift doors just as they were sliding shut. Drummond pushed the button for the fifth floor and tapped his fingers impatiently on the wooden paneling as we slowly moved up through the building.

  When the doors opened we were greeted by one of the hotel butlers, standing to full attention.

  “Good morning, Your Lordship. I trust you had a pleasant journey.”

  “Yes, fine, thank you, Philip. Not too bad at all.”

  Realizing Philip knew Lord Shanderson from previous visits, I smiled and nodded at him, but he just blatantly turned his back and marched down the corridor.

  When we arrived at suite 501 Philip swiped a card and held open the door for Drummond. But, when I went to follow him, Philip pushed past me and was hot on Drummond’s heels, leaving the door to slowly close in my face.

  You cheeky bastard! I thought as I pushed my way into the room.

  Once inside Drummond slipped his coat off and slung it over the back of a chair before heading through to the adjoining bedroom. Philip quickly moved over to scoop it up, but I positioned myself between him and the coat and looked him straight in the eye.

  “Touch that fucking coat and I’ll break every one of those scrawny fingers,” I said, not blinking.

  His face was a picture, and I nearly cracked up when he pursed his lips and his nostrils flared like a racehorse’s.

  But before he had a chance to think of a bitchy reply, Drummond shouted through from the other room. “That will be all, Philip; we’ll call if we need anything.”

  “Very well, sir,” Philip said, looking like someone had just snatched his favorite teddy bear from him.

  “And Anthony, if you could sort out Philip and then put the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door, I have things I need you to attend to.”

  I knew exactly what this guy was up to. I hadn’t worked all those years at the Landseer without learning how to maximize my earning potential, and this guy was no different. When he had seen Lord Shanderson turn up with his own hired help, he probably knew his chances of making any tips were greatly reduced. I couldn’t really blame Philip, but it’s not the way I would have dealt with it.

  “Here, Philip,” I said in a voice just loud enough for Drummond to hear. “Let me give you something for all your kind help.”

  I rummaged around in my pocket, eventually taking out a ten-pence piece and holding it up in front of his face before placing it carefully in his hand, closing his fingers around it, and squeezing tightly.

  Philip left the suite as quickly as he had arrived, and I was sure we wouldn’t be seeing him again before we left.

  When I went through to the bedroom Drummond was lying on the bed. He’d loosened his tie and kicked his shoes off and was grinning like an idiot.

  “We have an hour to kill—any ideas?” he said, patting the bed next to him.

  But before I could say anything there was a loud knock at the door.

  “Deal with that, will you,” he said, rolling his eyes.

  When I opened the door it was a porter with the luggage.

  I ush
ered him in and pointed to where I wanted the cases.

  I opened my wallet and took out a tenner. But then I had a better idea.

  “Listen, mate, you know Philip the butler, right?”

  “Yes, sir, I know Philip,” he said, his lip curling slightly when he said the name.

  “Well, in that case I need you to do me a favor,” I said, taking out another note, twenty pounds this time. “When you see him, be sure to let slip how generous the guests in 501 were.”

  “Very kind of you, sir, and I can’t think of anything I would enjoy more,” he said with a wink.

  When I returned to the bedroom Drummond had fallen asleep. I perched on the bed next to him, and when I began to stroke his hair he opened his eyes and smiled up at me.

  “I might just have forty winks,” he said. “Wake me in an hour so I can get ready for my meeting.”

  I pulled a blanket over him and went to unpack.

  As instructed, around an hour later I gently woke Drummond and ushered him into the shower to get ready for his meeting.

  “So what are your plans this afternoon?” I said as I sat on the edge of the bath whilst he showered.

  “I’m having lunch at the Wolseley with Nigel, my solicitor. Knowing him it will probably take all afternoon,” he said, stepping from the shower.

  I grabbed a towel and began to dry him off. I tried not to let my eyes wander over his naked body for too long as neither of us could afford to get waylaid.

  “And you?” he said.

  “Gieves and Hawkes at 2:30 p.m., and then I might meet a friend for coffee.”

  He lowered the towel he was using to dry his hair and looked at me.

  “Anyone interesting?” he asked.

  He was smiling, but something about his tone told me to lie.

  “Maria,” I said.

  “How nice.” He slipped into a robe. “Do give her my regards.”