James was taken aback. More, he was confused that Archer should ask him such a thing.
‘I know we are in the gentlemen’s corridor, Sir, but may I be myself and speak honestly.’
‘As long as you call me Archer.’
James arranged his words before speaking. ‘Barrister Creswell is an inspiration, Archer. Witty, willing to listen to the likes of me, has a sense of fun I admire and is what my mother would call as bonkers as a brush. But with all due respect to the man, if he thinks he can poach me from my life here, he can go fuck himself.’
Thomas spluttered, but Archer laughed all the way to his bedroom.
Strangely, James didn’t feel uncomfortable drinking His Lordship’s sherry from a minute glass while he stood discussing the weather with Thomas, and the Norwoods arranged serving dishes on the sideboard. Thomas fidgeted, unaccustomed to the informality, but the retainers said nothing.
‘Ring if we are needed,’ Mrs Norwood said. ‘And enjoy your special occasion.’
Thomas thanked her, and she turned to James.
‘May I just say, Mr Wright, that it gives me such pleasure to see a pupil of mine reach these heights. Dining with aristocracy as a guest. Who’d have thought it?’
They were left alone, and James was about to ask if they were allowed to sit when Silas entered. He too, had dressed informally.
‘How are you feeling?’ James asked, pouring him a glass of sherry. ‘If that’s not a daft question.’
‘Ah, I’ll get my feet back on the ground soon enough, Jimmy. Where’s Fecker?’
There had been no time to find out, and the truth was, James didn’t know. He glanced at Thomas, hoping Silas wouldn’t see his concern.
‘As far as I know,’ Thomas said, ‘he has gone on to Larkspur, but His… Archer will no doubt let us know when he comes down. The table looks splendid,’ he added as a distraction.
‘That was Mrs Norwood,’ James admitted. ‘She’s put us all at one end. Can we sit?’
‘I don’t see why not.’ Thomas ran his fingers through his hair, thinking. ‘Etiquette is the last thing on His Lordship’s mind.’
They were sipping wine at the table when Archer approached from the study and appeared in the doorway with Mr Norwood behind. Wandering in reading the telegram with a parcel tucked under his arm, he was unaware the others had stood. He didn’t even notice when Norwood closed the doors and left them alone. Lost in thought and concerned, his boyish excitement of earlier had left him, and he was drained. If James was not mistaken, he had been crying.
Archer looked up, realised where he was and said, ‘Sit down,’ as if he was annoyed they had stood.
‘Something wrong?’ Silas asked, filling a glass with wine.
‘Hm? Oh, no, no. Just found out I was wrong about something, that’s all.’
Obviously, it was more than that, but it was not James’ place to ask. Archer crumpled the message and threw it in the fire.
‘Larkspur business,’ was all the viscount said as the envelope followed the telegram to the flames.
James and Thomas shared uneasy glances as they sat, only to rise again when Archer told them to help themselves from the spread. It was an impressive one, and they served themselves in silence until Thomas said, ‘Mrs Flintwich better watch out.’ It went some way to breaking the ice Archer had brought to the room.
‘What’s wrong?’ Silas voiced everyone’s thoughts. ‘Is it about Fecker?’
‘What? No, of course not. Why do you ask?’
Silas shrugged. ‘Just got this feeling that something bad’s happened to him. Came over me in the early hours.’
‘You weren’t exactly in the right place to have good feelings,’ James said, regarding Archer dubiously.
‘I’m sorry, gentlemen.’ The viscount sat, pulling himself together. ‘Nothing for you to worry about, but Tom, we’ll have a word after dinner. Staffing matters.’ He shook his head, clapped his hands and said, Right!’ Whatever had been on his mind was there no more. ‘To business, men.’
Thomas poured his wine while the others waited for the viscount to speak.
‘First things first,’ Archer said, reaching into his pocket. ‘Silas, your ring.’ He handed it over, and Silas put it on his little finger where it belonged. ‘Jimmy, good thinking on that one. This, however, was too easy.’
He produced the I.O.U. James had written in Morse code, and tore it up.
‘You owe me nothing,’ he said. ‘Though I fear you owe Lady Marshall, and she now has you in her clutches.’ Handing James the parcel he said, ‘Beware the Jubjub bird, my son,’ and winked playfully. ‘Will you open it? I’m dying to know what’s inside.’
James untied the string and folded back the brown paper to reveal the autographed Wilkie Collins novel Her Ladyship had promised.
‘What is it?’ Archer asked. The sullen mood he had entered with was lifted and replaced with comic intrigue. It seemed forced.
‘It’s a long story,’ James replied. ‘In more ways than one.’
‘And that reminds me,’ Archer said, tucking into his dinner. ‘Tom, I think you and James should go on ahead to Larkspur tomorrow if that’s not too soon. Mrs Baker is managing, but the servants’ Christmas ball needs your organisational skills, as does the whole situation with staff. I have some ideas which I will run past you later. Silas and I will come down on Christmas Eve. There’s a day train that will deliver us to Bodmin in time for the party if you could have Williams meet us at the station.’
‘Certainly.’
‘I’d like everyone to be there,’ Archer continued. ‘Estate staff and families included. It will be the first time everyone is together since Father died, and I want to make it clear that my house is to be run on my rails, as it were. Robert will hate it, of course, but that’s fine. I don’t much care for the man, and anyone else who is against the changes is free to seek employment elsewhere. You’ll give good references if needed.’
The viscount spoke as if he was at a committee meeting, with an authority that left no room for debate.
‘Very good, My Lord.’
‘No, Tom!’
Archer shocked then all with his raised voice and the way he threw down his knife and fork. Pushing his chair back, he stood, and Thomas instinctively did the same.
‘Don’t you dare get up for me,’ Archer roared, showing Thomas the palm of his hand and catching him half-standing. ‘Don’t you dare treat me as above you. Any of you.’ He turned away, leaving Thomas hovering and the others exchanging worried glances. ‘Please, just don’t,’ the viscount repeated, more quietly this time and with his voice cracking. Sniffing, he walked to the fireplace where he rested his hands against the mantelpiece with his head hanging. He kicked the surround and growled.
‘Archie?’
If anyone in the room should have gone to him and asked what was wrong, it was Silas, but he was too dumbfounded, his usually smooth brow crumpled like an unmade bed, and his mouth was open.
Thomas approached cautiously. ‘Archie?’
Without looking, Archer pulled Thomas to his side, clinging to him and holding his head. His shoulders heaved as he unsuccessfully fought tears. Thomas waited, saying nothing.
James guessed what had happened, and his blood ran cold. He feigned ignorance to Silas and shook his head when Silas began to stand.
‘Leave him,’ he whispered. ‘It’s been a difficult time.’
Nothing was said until Archer finally let go of Thomas. ‘What can we do?’ the butler asked.
It took Archer another minute and some deep breaths before he wiped his face with his handkerchief and stood straight. Tidying his waistcoat, he turned, his eyes red, his cheeks wet.
‘Sorry about that, boys,’ he said. ‘A release of tension. I’m not very good at admitt
ing I was wrong, but I have been. That’s all. Tom, for heaven’s sake, sit and stop fussing.’
‘I am not fussing,’ Thomas said, his voice clipped. ‘I am caring.’
‘I know,’ Archer agreed. ‘And you’re bloody good at it. All of you, and I don’t just mean of me. Tom sit, Silas, have another glass, Jimmy… Just be there hiding your intelligence behind that public schoolboy visage. All of you, my men, my team, my friends… Oh, hell, what am I trying to say?’
Thomas held his chair as Archer sat and took Silas’ hand.
‘Well, you certainly don’t have to say thank you,’ Thomas muttered. ‘If that’s what you’re having trouble with.’
‘I couldn’t,’ Archer said. ‘There are not enough words in the dictionary for that, and I know you don’t want thanks.’
‘Jimmy is owed a few,’ Silas said, gripping James’ arm.
‘And so are you, Silas,’ Archer countered. ‘For saving Roxton and the Foundation. You too, Jimmy. And, for not telling me that he was a regular at that damned Cleaver Street hellhole.’
‘Ah.’ Silas said. ‘About that…’
‘Not a word.’
‘Okay, boss.’
Archer laughed; a brief moment of recognition.
‘That’s the thing, isn’t it?’ he asked rhetorically. ‘I’m no more your boss than you are my secretary. Tom isn’t my butler, he’s my best friend. James isn’t a footman, he’s a wonder, and today, I am not worthy of the company of such men.’
‘You asked me once why a man can’t have it all,’ Thomas said. ‘And the answer is because that is not how the world works. We three were born on the other side of the baize door, across the great divide, and noble though your sentiments are, Archer, I fear they are too far ahead of their time. They are, of course, appreciated. We are the ones not worthy of your generosity, your compassion, your understanding.’
‘Please, Tom,’ Archer said. ‘You’re not helping. I know you mean to, and I am grateful, but there’s nothing anyone can say that would make me feel better about myself and the mistakes I have made.’
‘Maybe if you told us what’s wrong,’ James suggested.
‘Everything!’ Archer exclaimed, and James feared his anger might return. He controlled it, however. ‘The way we cannot be together as we should be, as friends. I’ve got a title that separates me from you because that’s the world I was born into. It came with the responsibility to uphold the tradition and for all my modern ways, Tom, I do have to keep the traditions upheld, for the sake of my family. My other family,’ he added, regarding them each in turn. ‘You’re right Tom, I can’t have it all because of the accident of my birth, but I hate the way we must hide who we are because of the alleged morals of this damn country. Look at it. That bloody judge thinking his authority gives him the right to bend the law and mistreat people.’ He again took Silas’ hand. ‘Those men who sit in judgment treating our nature as a flaw while they wallow in their own. Seeing us as an abomination against God. Ha! God!’ He reached for James’ arm. ‘I’m sorry, Jimmy,’ he said. ‘I know you were brought up by your Christian mother, and I mean no disrespect to her or you.’
‘Oh, no,’ James said. ‘I’m on your side there. She only goes to church for a sip of wine and a bun.’
Archer smirked.
‘But she does do what you do.’ Seeing that Archer didn’t understand, James expanded his comment. ‘She takes the right bits from her Bible and ignores the parts that judge, but she understands. She doesn’t thunder about morals based on some ancient texts from who knows where, but she filters out what we should do naturally, as caring beings. It’s common sense,’ he said. ‘You know, she once said to me, “Jim…” Oh, she calls me Jim. “Jim,” she said. “We are taught to love thy neighbour, and if that means physical love, then so be it.” I was a bit shocked, to be honest, until I realised she had no idea I fancied the neighbour’s son. I didn’t take her literally. But what I’m trying to say, Archer, is, you may not believe in God and all that, but the way you behave it’s like you’ve taken the right meaning from the Book. Compassion and understanding. There’s nothing in you but good, and that’s how we should all be.’
‘A fine speech,’ Archer said. ‘For which I thank you. It was because I don’t believe in God that I was able to play with the truth on the witness stand. “Do you swear before God, blah-blah,” the clerk asks, and one says yes because one must, but what they don’t realise is that it means nothing to some.’
‘That would be an interesting case for Creswell,’ James mused. ‘Someone commits perjury, and their defence is that they were forced to swear on something they don’t believe in. Whose fault would that be?’
‘Are you sure you don’t want to go and work for Sir Easterby?’
‘He’d drive me mad,’ James laughed. ‘I like him, but anyone prepared to take the word of a footman over his legal instincts, well, it’s a bit dodgy, isn’t it?’
‘Which brings me back to the point I was hopelessly trying to make,’ Archer said. ‘I am your boss, Silas, and your employer, Tom, Jimmy. But I want to be your friend, and not just here behind closed doors. I want us to be equal.’
‘I’d never be equal to Tommy,’ Silas said. ‘Have you seen the size of his bolshoydick?’
‘Do you mind!’
‘Alright then,’ Silas smirked. ‘I’d never be equal to Jimmy, ’cos he’s clever. I’ll never be as swavey as Archie, ’cos he knows how to behave.’
‘The word is suave, and I don’t think I am.’
‘You know what I mean. We’re all different, Archie, but we’re all the same. We like to fuck each other. What business is that of anyone else?’
‘My point in a vulgar nutshell.’
‘It’s more to do with love than carnality,’ Thomas said.
‘You see? Fecking long words or what?’
‘Boys… Friends…’ Archer fought for the correct word. ‘Comrades,’ he decided. ‘We came together to eat and relax after what has been a trying time for each of us, and I fear I have rather ruined the mood. My head will be uncluttered by morning, that is a promise. And here’s another. I swear to you that I will find a way where we can be equal, in station at least if not in the size of our genitalia.’ He flicked his napkin at Silas and turned to Thomas. ‘Tom. Are you happy as my butler?’
‘It’s all I ever wanted to be,’ Thomas admitted. ‘As you know.’
‘You don’t long to have your own farm like your father? Or to be a soldier like your brother?’
‘Hell no. I love the countryside, but mucking out cowsheds and pulling calves from a cow’s you-know-what, is not my greatest ambition.’
‘Then what is it?’
‘Simply to serve a man I respect and care for.’ Thomas replied with a smile. ‘If that’s alright with you.’
It was. Archer addressed James. ‘And you, Jimmy? A seaman like your father? A Pinkerton’s detective in America? Solicitor?’
James thought before replying. ‘I’d get seasick, and I wouldn’t look good in a wig. Starting a detective agency would be a laugh, but for now, I’m like Thomas. Happy to serve dinner and carry cases, clean your silver and polish shoes. It’s more than I ever thought I’d do.’
‘A gentleman’s valet, perhaps?’
Thomas’ eyes flashed to the viscount. ‘To Mr Hawkins?’
‘Why not?’ Archer replied. ‘I also have other ideas.’ Looking at Silas, he said, ‘And you? Mr Hawkins?’
‘Me? Oh, I’m happy where I am. Happier when you’re on top and banging…’
‘Yes, thank you.’ Archer blushed. ‘I should have known better than to ask.’
‘What about you?’ James asked, scraping the last of his meal from his plate. ‘What do you want?’
Archer knew the question was coming, he had engineered its ine
vitability. ‘Me?’ he said. ‘My ideal would be to live at Larkspur with Silas as my legitimate and accepted partner and with you two as my friends. But, as that’s not what Tom wants, then with him as my butler, managing the house because he wants to, but living in Abbey Cottage.’
‘Butlers don’t live out,’ Thomas reminded him. ‘And certainly not in the largest cottage on the estate.’
‘Not yet,’ Archer said cryptically, and Thomas frowned.
‘And what about Jimmy?’ Silas returned to the sideboard to refill his plate.
‘Jimmy,’ Archer mused. ‘Well, Mr Harrow is coming up to retirement age.’
‘The estate manager?’
‘Sorry, James, but you asked me what I wanted, and I may be fantasising, but… Yes, James Wright, estate manager, also living in Abbey Cottage with Tom. Legitimately.’
James laughed. ‘I wouldn’t know where to start, mate.’
‘Mate, is perhaps a little too far, James,’ Thomas chided.
‘Not at all,’ Archer said. ‘As long as it’s in the sense of friend and nothing to do with procreation.’
‘There you go again,’ Silas tutted. ‘You mean sex.’
‘I mean as friends,’ Archer replied, smiling. ‘Which is what we are, whether Tom approves or not. Jimmy, you’ll have no trouble picking it up if it’s what you want to do. If you can guide Creswell through a spurious trial and assist in taking down the Cleaver Street bastards, you can cope with four crop rotation, building repairs and rent collection. We’ll talk about it after Christmas. Right!’ He clapped his hands together, his humour much improved, and cracked his knuckles. ‘Meanwhile, we carry on as normal. Tom and James to Larkspur tomorrow, on a regular, inexpensive night train.’ He gave James a look of reproach mixed with good humour. ‘Silas and I will remain here another two days because I want to do some shopping and I need to make a few visits. The Norwoods can’t wait to have the run of the house, but they have no choice. Silas, you also need to decide if you want to take civil action against the arresting officers, Creswell can’t wait to have a go at that, but it’s up to you, and there’s the compensation for your ill-treatment to sort out, but we’ll leave that to Sir Easterby. Unless James wants to take the case?’
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