Manservant

by Harwood, Michael

  “I see. Well, let’s hope you perk up a bit later,” he said with a wink.

  Annoyingly, Drummond insisted on choosing everything we ate, but I have to admit that he chose exceptionally well. In fact dinner was quite remarkable. It seemed to be a never-ending stream of food, with little dishes of dim sum following hot on the heels of hot and sour soup and crispy Peking duck.

  “That was amazing,” I said, finally pushing my plate away in defeat.

  “Yes, I particularly enjoyed the lobster in black bean sauce. . . .” He let his sentence trail off, and his eyes suddenly focused over my left shoulder.

  I turned around in my seat to see what he was looking at, and when I saw who was approaching our table it felt like someone had just punched me in the stomach.

  “Mia caro!” Maria squealed as she clamped a hand on each of my shoulders and kissed me on both cheeks. “I cannot believe you didn’t call me to say you were coming to London.”

  She obviously clocked the look of horror on my face, because she immediately changed tack and turned to Drummond.

  “Lord Shanderson, how are you?” she gushed, extending her hand. “Aren’t you the perfect employer bringing young Anthony to such a wonderful restaurant!”

  I watched Drummond’s face carefully as he took her hand and kissed it.

  “He’s worked very hard, so I thought he deserved a little thank-you,” he said, before adding, “Won’t you join us for a drink?”

  Maria glanced at me for a fleeting second, but that was all it took for her to register the look in my eye that pleaded with her to say no.

  “Lord Shanderson, you are too, too kind, but I am here with friends. Perhaps another time.” She smiled politely and turned to me. “Call me,” she said simply before heading to a table on the far side of the room.

  Drummond waited until she was fully out of earshot before he spoke.

  “I thought you said you spent the afternoon with her,” he said in a low, calm voice. “It would appear as if that were not the case.”

  He waved the waiter over and asked for the bill. He didn’t speak to me again until the bill was paid and we were leaving the restaurant.

  “I was going to suggest we go for a drink, but I think we had better go upstairs and get to the bottom of where you were all afternoon,” he said as we entered the lift.

  “Look, Drummond . . .” I began, but he turned on me and pushed me hard against the wall of the lift.

  “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear,” he hissed into my ear, “but I will not be lied to.”

  “You’re hurting me. Let me go!” I said, pushing him away as hard as I could.

  Thankfully, just then the lift doors slid open, and an American couple stepped in.

  “Good evening,” Drummond said to the couple, all smiles. “Lovely evening.”

  If I was shocked at his outburst in the lift, I was more shocked at how he could switch back to being his charming self so effortlessly. The lift finally arrived at our floor, and we nodded our silent good-byes to the Americans before heading down the corridor to the suite.

  As soon as we were inside, Drummond put the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door and locked it behind him.

  “Get undressed,” he ordered.

  “Drummond, I’m sorry I told you I was with Maria. I don’t know why I lied, but it was nothing, honestly.” I began to try to explain myself, but he cut me off mid flow.

  “Did I or did I not just tell you to get undressed? Trust me, Anthony, you do not want to make me any more angry than I already am.”

  My first instinct was to stand up to him and tell him to calm down, but something about his tone and a menacing look in his eye had me doing exactly as he asked. I began to take off my clothes.

  He said nothing as I slowly removed each item of clothing and waited until I was completely naked before he spoke.

  “Get over here, you dirty little liar,” he said, moving over to the writing desk where he’d been making phone calls earlier.

  And then with one sweep of his arm he sent everything on it crashing onto the floor.

  “Jesus, Drum, what the fuck are you doing?”

  He didn’t bother to answer; he just grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and pulled me over to the desk, forcing me over it and holding me in place with one hand. I could hear him fumbling around for something with his free hand, and seconds later he landed the first agonizing blow to my naked arse.

  “Fuck! Drummond, no . . . Please, please stop. You know I’m not into this,” I screamed, but he just continued.

  Ignoring my pleas he began to rain blows down onto my bare flesh. It felt like he was never going to stop, and, whatever he was using, it sure as hell wasn’t his hand.

  I struggled at first, but he had such a firm grip it felt like a waste of energy, so I focused instead on breathing through the excruciating pain he was inflicting on me.

  Eventually, after what seemed like an age, he stopped and let whatever it was he had been using to beat me fall from his hand and land with a thud on the thick carpet. I opened my eyes and saw the black leather paddle he’d bought in Brighton lying on the floor next to me.

  “Get up,” he said calmly. “It’s time for that chat.”

  I straightened up and immediately felt the skin on my behind tighten and scream. Not wanting to meet his eye, I walked over to the bedroom and took a robe from behind the door. Whilst I was out of his line of vision, I wiped my face with the sleeve and took a deep breath before going back to face him.

  “So who was it?” he asked.

  He was sitting on the sofa now, inspecting his nails.

  “It was somebody I met just before I came to Castle Beadale. I met up with him to let him know that I didn’t want to see him again. Happy now?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far, Anthony, but I will admit to being a touch happier.” He let out a little laugh, which made the hairs on the back of my neck bristle. “And I take it you have severed all ties to this person now.”

  “Yes, I won’t be seeing him again. I promise,” I said.

  “Good. That’s what I like to hear. I think you should sleep in the valet’s room tonight. I need a good night’s sleep.”

  “If that’s what you want,” I said, secretly glad I wouldn’t have to sleep next to him. “What time would you like me to wake you?”

  “Let’s have a nice breakfast together around eight thirty?” he said as he headed for the bedroom. “And, Anthony, I’m glad we have sorted things out, aren’t you?”

  I was stunned at his jovial tone given what had just happened between us, so I found myself just nodding at him.

  “Tomorrow’s another day, as they say, so we’ll soon be back to our normal routine. Good night.” He blew me a kiss and closed the bedroom door behind him.

  I stood rooted to the spot, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Did he really think we could get back to normal after that? Feeling suddenly exhausted and more than a little confused, I took myself off to bed in the adjoining room, hoping to God that I’d be able to sleep.

  CHAPTER 18

  The next day we ate breakfast together in the suite as if nothing had happened. He read the papers, commenting on various news stories, whilst I poured his tea and buttered his toast.

  “I asked Tom to pick me up at 10 a.m.,” he said from over the top of his Financial Times.

  “I’ll make sure we are both packed and ready to go by nine thirty then.”

  “Actually, I’d like you to return to Beadale by train.”

  “I see. Any particular reason for that?”

  “Yes—I have some errands I need you to run for me in town. Shouldn’t take you more than a couple of hours. You’ll be back at Beadale in time for tea.”

  Tom was waiting outside the hotel at 10 a.m. sharp with the engine running and the boot open. Drummond climbed in the back and waited whilst the porters loaded in the bags.

  “Thank you, Anthony,” he said simply, before the electric window slid shut
and the car pulled away.

  I returned to the suite to grab my jacket and the list of errands Drummond had left me on the desk. There was a trip to Penhaligon’s to collect some more of his favorite cologne, a pair of handmade shoes to be collected from John Lobb on St. James’s, and interestingly a parcel to collect from Rigby and Peller in Knightsbridge.

  Now, I’m no expert on women’s underwear, but even I know that Rigby and Peller is London’s poshest bra shop. So posh in fact, that they even supply Her Majesty the Queen with her undergarments.

  Jesus, Drummond, don’t tell me you’re a cross dresser as well as a sadist, I thought as I walked out of the hotel.

  I left Rigby and Peller for last; I figured I could get a bus from right outside to Victoria Station.

  Next to the cash desk at Rigby and Peller were piles and piles of dark gray gift boxes tied with silver ribbon. Some were tiny, and some quite large, and they were balanced so precariously on top of one another that it looked as if one false move would bring them all crashing down.

  “I’m here to collect a parcel for Lord Shanderson,” I said to the middle-aged lady behind the desk.

  She peered at me over the top of her half-moon glasses and smiled warmly.

  “Ah! Yes, Lord Shanderson. Bit more than one parcel, dear,” she said, waving a hand at the leaning tower of lingerie.

  “What—all these?” I said.

  “Yes, lucky girl, isn’t she?”

  “Sorry? Who exactly is a lucky girl?”

  She looked at me like I was a complete idiot and reached over for one of the small boxes on top of the pile. She lifted up a label attached to the ribbon and held it out for me to see. It was printed with the words:

  LADY ELIZABETH SHANDERSON

  “All of this is for her?”

  “Indeed it is, and may I just say how refreshing it is to still have clients who want quality undergarments at a time like this,” the saleswoman said, patting her lacquered hair. “Most people are straight down to Marks and Spencer, but not the Shandersons. Of course, she’ll have to be measured again in a few months time, but this should see her through.”

  I didn’t have a clue what this woman was going on about, and to be honest I didn’t care. But what I did care about was who was going to pay for it all.

  “Erm, and the bill?” I asked.

  She looked at me as though I had just had an outburst of Tourette’s.

  “A bill? Good Lord, no. Lord Shanderson always puts his wife’s items on account and settles at the end of the month. All you need to do is get it in the car. I take it you are in a car.”

  “Erm, actually no. I’ll need to hail a cab, I think.”

  She rolled her eyes and waved over a uniformed doorman.

  “Norman, be a love and hail a cab for this young man, would you?” she said before silently mouthing the word Shanderson like a secret password.

  Against the odds I managed to get all the bags and boxes to the train station and onto a train that was leaving almost immediately without losing any of the packages.

  Thankfully, the train was not busy, as all the bags and parcels took up a ridiculous amount of room on the luggage rack. I made myself comfy and watched with a tinge of sadness as Battersea Power Station slid slowly past the train window picked out against the dark clouds that were gathering high above the Thames.

  I took out my phone and saw two missed calls from Maria and a text from Frank. I couldn’t face calling Maria to explain what had happened the previous night, even though I knew she’d be so desperate to know she was probably foaming at the mouth by now. I’d need time to figure it out in my own head before I let her in on it. But Frank was a different story. His text was, as ever, straight to the point:

  So, U thought about what I said?

  U gonna pack it in or what? I can help you. XX

  What do you mean, “I can help you”? I thought as I read the text over and over again.

  I considered calling and telling him what had happened, but quickly thought better of it. God only knows what he’d make of Drummond’s little outburst.

  I chose my words carefully and began to reply to his text.

  Hi, Frank—yes, I have thought about what you said, but

  I need to stick things out for a bit longer at Beadale.

  Everything will be fine. Thanks for being a mate. X

  I quickly pressed Send and slipped the phone into my pocket before I had a chance to add anything I’d regret later.

  It was gone four by the time the train pulled into Westcourt Station. When I struggled onto the platform with all my bags and parcels, I was pleased to see Tom waiting for me.

  “Done a bit of shopping, have we?” he said, scooping up an armful of bags and heading out to the waiting Land Rover.

  “Yes, I thought I’d treat myself to some new lacy underwear,” I replied.

  With the car all loaded up Tom put his foot down and had us back at the castle in next to no time.

  “Drop me at Rose View, will you? I need to change for dinner,” I said.

  “Oh! Sorry, Anthony, I forgot. Vera asked me to tell you that His Lordship is out for dinner tonight, so you’re not needed.”

  I felt a huge surge of relief at the thought of not having to serve him whilst I could still feel the heat of his hand on my backside.

  “No worries. I guess that means I can have an early night then,” I said, staring out of the window so he couldn’t see the look on my face.

  Tom and I unloaded the car and took all the shopping bags into the kitchen, where Vera and Gloria were sitting drinking tea.

  “He’s spoiling her this time. I wonder what she’s done to deserve all this,” Gloria said through gritted teeth as the bags began to pile up in front of her.

  “Rigby and Peller, eh? Can’t be bad,” Vera said, taking a sneaky look inside of one of the boxes.

  “Makes Her Majesty the Queen’s bras you know,” said Gloria.

  “Yes, so I’m told. Anyway, I’m going to unpack his bags and then head off for an early night,” I said, making for the door.

  “Good idea. We should probably all do the same. Tomorrow is going to be a hell of a day what with her arriving and everything,” replied Vera.

  Until then I’d almost forgotten about Lady Shanderson’s visit.

  “Oh! She’s arriving tomorrow, isn’t she?”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” said Gloria with a sniff. “So God only knows what we have in store for us.”

  The next morning Barb came over from the office to inform us that Lady Shanderson and her butler would be arriving by helicopter later that afternoon. The rest of her staff would need picking up from the local train station a little later.

  “Sweet lord!” exclaimed Vera. “How many is she bringing this time?”

  “Just four,” Barb said, shrugging her shoulders. “Lady’s maid, chef, and butler. There’s a doctor coming up from Harley Street tomorrow, but he’s not staying.”

  “Is someone ill?” I asked.

  “I doubt it; Lady S is a bit of a hypochondriac. She’s forever popping pills, that one,” Barb said, rolling her eyes. “And don’t forget that His Lordship will expect all of us to be lined up to greet her when they land.”

  “I suppose I should be practicing my bloody curtseying?” Vera grumbled.

  At three o’clock precisely, Vera frog-marched all the staff out of the side door and around to the front of the castle, where she organized us schoolma’am-style into a neat line just to one side of the front door.

  Gloria stood ramrod straight with eyes fixed on the spot on the lawn where the chopper was due to land, whereas Tom and Kylie could barely conceal their excitement, scanning the empty sky above their heads for signs of its arrival.

  “Does she always arrive this way?” I asked Vera as we waited.

  “No, this is her new toy. Bit gauche if you ask me.”

  And then in the distance, I could hear the sound of rotor blades slicing through the air before a red spo
t became visible in the distance. Everyone stopped chatting and stood to attention as the red dot grew larger and circled a few times before coming in to land in the middle of the lawn. As the helicopter lowered slowly toward the ground, the grass parted and the nearby trees bent under the force of the displaced air before the helicopter came to rest and the blades slowed to a stop.

  A uniformed pilot was the first to disembark, jumping down from his seat and quickly opening the rear passenger door. He extended a hand, and moments later Lady Shanderson slowly emerged, looking like a sixties film star sent to the future in a time machine.

  Stepping gingerly down onto the lawn, she shook her perfect hair free from a Hermès silk scarf and removed her enormous dark glasses. Her butler quickly appeared by her side, draping a cream trench coat around her shoulders.

  Her progress across the lawn was impeded ever so slightly by the sinking of her spike-heeled boots into the lawn, but nevertheless she looked thrilled to be at Castle Beadale.

  “Hello, everyone, I’m back!” she shrieked as she approached the welcoming party.

  First in the lineup was Vera, who stood impassively as Lady Shanderson placed a hand on each of her shoulders and kissed her on both cheeks. I stifled a laugh when Vera flinched.

  “How are you, Vera?” Lady Shanderson asked. “It’s been ages; you look well.

  “Tom, handsome as ever,” she said, moving down the line. “Kylie, still here, I see. Gloria, hello again. And YOU,” she said when she got to me, “must be Anthony. Mummy tells me you come highly recommended by the lovely Maria, and what’s more, my husband tells me you are most attentive.” She fixed me with a smile that sent a shiver down my spine.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Lady Shanderson,” I said, extending my hand.

  But suddenly her attention was drawn away from me by the arrival of Lord Shanderson. He came out of the house and stood by my side for a second before stepping forward to greet his wife.

  I expected no more than a polite kiss on each cheek or a brief embrace, but instead he moved straight in and kissed her full on the lips, locking his arms around her like they were love-struck teenagers. And then he placed one hand tenderly on her stomach.