Fic: A Fish Out Of Water - parts 7 and 8
Apr. 15th, 2005 01:23 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lonelybritErm... stuff happens. That pretty much sums it up. I loves ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eloise_bright muchly for her wonderful beta-ing and enabling skills. This fic should be 11 parts in total, so alarmingly we're over halfway there... **eyes fic warily**
Previous parts can be found here.
Chapter Seven:
“Christ almighty, can’t you manage anything without causing a bloody row!”
“I’m sorry, Will.”
“Walking out of the house, just walking out of the blasted house. That’s all you had to do and you even manage to mess that one up.”
“I’m sorry.”
“As if things weren’t bad enough already… Oh god, I’ll never be able to set foot in that house again. You’re a magnet for ill fortune, you know that.”
I sat in silence, feeling about as high as my shoelaces. Will continued steering with angry jerks of the wheel that made the car shudder and clip the passing hedgerow.
“Next time, why not just take a shotgun to my skull, it’d be quicker, less messy and still have the required effect.”
“Will-”
“And aren’t you going to say a single word in all this?”
Pryce, technically the cause of Will’s wrath, merely said: “I am sorry to have caused you distress, Mr Davis.”
Will glowered at him in the car mirror. “Demon spawn.”
“Hey,” I said, firmly, “you would have done the same thing.”
“I wouldn’t have been idiotic enough to have been caught,” Will spat back.
I peeked back at Pryce and something about the set of the lips, a certain spark in the eye, made me wonder whether Will was right in supposing that last part had been accidental.
We had left that small room with the best of intentions. I had gone to wait at the front steps while Pryce vanished to collect my coat and keys for the car. Since I had no wish to bump into any of the guests, I wound up hiding in the recess of the umbrella stand. I waited, and waited, and waited. Until I finally lost my patience and stalked off in search of my valet.
Did I mention the part about that house being huge? We’re talking east and west wings, underground servants’ quarters, a general labyrinth disguised as someone’s home. I half-expected a hungry minotaur to come sidling out of a side door. It was with the desperation of the drowning man throwing himself at passing driftwood that, when I rounded the corner, I threw myself on the mercy of Greylings.
“Greylings, I’m lost!”
“How unfortunate, sir, if you would like-”
“Have you seen Pryce?”
Greylings sniffed. “In passing, sir.”
I didn’t have the time for Greylings being all uppity, so I was rather short with him.
“Just tell me where he is, Greylings.”
Greylings eyed me coldly.
“I could not say, sir. He was headed for the staff level with apparent urgency and did not stop to confide in me his precise destination.”
I stifled a groan. I had no wish to go diving into the bowels of the earth in search of Pryce, but this house was becoming more and more hostile by the minute. With a wave I dismissed Greylings and stomped off to the stone archway that led to the bare stairwell. As I descended, all the colour and plushness of the main rooms vanished. Here were simple white walls, a hardy but plain carpet underfoot. And when I reached the main corridor, there was no carpet at all, instead there were large, well-cleaned and well-trodden flagstones stretching away in both directions. At one end, door to the garden threw a small window of natural light into the artificially lit surroundings.
“Sir? Are you lost?”
A young maid materialised through a doorway, carrying a large pile of what appeared to be freshly laundered linen. I straightened and tried to look nonchalant.
“Just looking for my man… servant, my manservant, I mean valet, that is…”
“Ah, Mr Pryce, sir?” She let out a sigh and shook her head. I’ve seen women give that motion, usually when they’re going ‘such a shame, such a shame’. “He’s in the china room, sir. Down that way, the third door on the right.”
She gave me a pitying look and went on her way.
I tried to both stride and cautiously inch towards the indicated portal. The door was a little ajar, and the first sneaked glance revealed a familiar looking back.
“Pryce!” I demanded, shooting hastily into the room and clicking the door to behind me. “Where the blast were- Oh, sorry, I didn’t realise you were talking to someone.”
For the room turned out to have one more person than I was expecting.
The pageboy who MacDonald had nearly brained in the kitchen garden during our earlier physical altercation, was perched on a stool. His face was rather blotchy, dark smudges of what looked like soot coating in equal measure his person and the handkerchief he was swiping across his neck. The handkerchief was fighting a losing battle, serving to distribute the grime more evenly rather than actually remove anything.
Pryce, who had been standing with his back to the doorway, looked over his shoulder, his expression utterly unmoved and lacking contrition.
“I found this boy in a rather unprofessional state, sir, and was assisting him in the restoration of his appearance to that befitting his duties.”
The boy gave a choked hiccoughing noise that sounded suspiciously like a stifled sob.
Pryce instantly turned back. I couldn’t see his face, but his stance radiated all the concern and sympathy of an icicle.
“Pull yourself together, Edwin. That kind of behaviour won’t help anyone now, least of all yourself.”
I flinched, and the boy bit his lip and sat a little straighter.
“When you say ‘unprofessional state’, Pryce?”
“I found him in the coal shed, sir. The small one just outside in the garden, the one with the red brick, just on the right, not the larger-”
“The coal shed?” I examined Edwin a little more closely. His eyes shone with suspicious dampness, although when I met his gaze he blinked and practically glared back at me. “Well, that’s what happens when you start playing around the workplace. Locked yourself in, did you?”
“I’m not that stupid,” Edwin scoffed, anger now crumpling his features. “That fish-faced Hamilton nobbled me!”
“Sir Holland’s driver, sir,” Pryce explained, with what was unmistakably a note of warning.
“Oh.” I took another look at the bedraggled state of Edwin, the slight red tinge to the eyes. “Did he give a reason?”
“Said I shouldn’t have told on Mr MacDonald,” Edwin chipped in, his face set with grim satisfaction. “I don’t care! I don’t like Manners, he hit me just cos I trod on his hat. I’m glad everyone laughed at him.” He snorted defiantly.
“It seems Sir Holland was not too pleased with his nephew’s display earlier having a large audience, sir. Apparently he judged young Edwin here responsible for the unwanted publicity.”
“He nearly got me with his elbow!” Edwin protested angrily. “Of course I told on him. It’s not my fault the guests overheard. They shouldn’t eavesdrop.”
“He shouted the news to Greylings in the hallway, sir,” Pryce continued placidly.
Not surprisingly, I was thinking some rather unkind descriptions of Manners.
“So he told his driver to take it out on a mere child,” I said frostily.
“It was a foreseeable risk, sir,” Pryce said. He once more addressed Edwin. “It was most unwise to act so rashly. Especially when the matter concerned the Manners family. However, what’s done is done; I trust you have learnt from this experience. That coal dust has not been completely removed, I suggest you take yourself to the wash basin and try to perform a more thorough job in cleaning yourself. You cannot appear in public in that state.”
“Yes, Mr Pryce.”
Edwin deflated a little, hopped off his perch and scurried past me.
There was a faint buzzing in my ears as I gazed with mild disbelief at Pryce.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re more angry at the kid than at the bully who did that to him?”
Pryce hadn’t turned round, he still stood with his hands by his side, the back of his head refusing to help me understand what was actually going on inside that brain of his.
“That Hamilton had no right to treat someone like that,” I continued, hoping that maybe Pryce would chime in with some show of feeling. “I mean, locking kids in coal sheds? And what for? Just because MacDonald got a public roasting? Edwin was coated in the stuff, are we talking really small sheds here?”
“Yes, sir. Although the child was encased for nearly an hour and it is unlikely he was immobile during that time. A certain amount of wear and tear is to be expected.”
“An hour!”
Pryce turned round, and my heart sank at the blank, unruffled look on his face. Even his eyes were emotionless, not even a spark of excitement or moral outrage.
“That boy had been crying, Pryce,” I pointed out, definitely a little angry now. “To be locked in the dark like that…”
“The child is claustrophobic, sir,” Pryce interrupted coolly. “Doubtless the experience was magnified beyond reality for him by that affliction.”
I was beyond gaping, I just gave him the coldest look possible.
“I don’t understand you, Pryce.”
“I wasn’t asking you to, sir. If you will excuse me.”
And just like that, he walked out on me. Stalked right past me, opened the door and strolled off as casual as can be. After a stunned pause, I hurried after him. He didn’t look at me, continuing with measured step towards the door at the end of the corridor.
“Pryce,” I said, trailing after him as he exited the building, “look, I’m aware it’s probably part of this whole English thing you have going for you, but sometimes-”
He took a sharp right turn and I was vaguely aware of the garages coming into view as I dodged a prickly rosebush.
“Sometimes,” I continued levelly, “a little show of emotion wouldn’t do you any harm, you know that? There’s a difference between stiff upper lip and being an unfeeling cold-hearted brick.”
Pryce stopped briefly and looked into the shadows of the garage. Then he moved off again, this time towards the front of the house.
“Pryce, will you stop a minute!”
And he did. He stopped, swiftly removed his jacket and handed it to me.
“If you could hold this a moment, sir.”
“What?” I looked at the item in my hands, trying to remember what I had been saying. “Pryce, have you been listening to a word I was saying?”
He was already gone, gravel crunching beneath his feet. He had a slight start on me, so I gave a quick trot to draw level. Except that, halfway there, I suddenly realised the scene we were about to enter, and faltered.
“Er, Pryce…”
It was too late. Pryce had already spotted who he had been looking for. Manner’s car stood shining in the pink afternoon sunshine. One door had just opened and a tall man built like a tank was straightening himself and his driver’s cap. His shoulders and chest were like barrels, and he so towered over the car that it seemed impossible to imagine him folding himself small enough to fit in the front seat. In short, as Pryce made a beeline for him, I felt like I was watching a tiny dingy attempting to ram an oil barge.
“Pryce!” I broke into a run, hoping to get there before he broke any major bones like, say, his spine.
Hamilton turned at the sound of our approach, and his face curved into a sneer as he spied Pryce.
“Why, Mr Pryce, how nice to see you again.”
I didn’t hear what Pryce said in response because I half-tripped over the edge of the lawn. After a quick flurry, I regained my footing just in time to see Hamilton slam the car door shut. There was Hamilton, sneer still in place. Before him was the slight form of my undoubtedly ill-fated and doomed valet.
Except, even as Hamilton tossed his head dismissively and made a casual swipe with his paw that would have disembowelled an ox, Pryce was suddenly to one side, his fist connecting with surgical precision to the giant’s Adam’s apple.
It was like watching a mountain collapse. Hamilton doubled over, gagging, and through a daze of utter shock I saw Pryce deliver a sharp blow to the back of the suddenly-in-range head. At the same time one knee came up so that as Hamilton continued his downward path…
And there we all were. I, standing like a fool, holding Pryce’s ridiculously respectable black jacket. Hamilton choking on the floor but already recovering and half-raising himself, eyes aflame with fury. Pryce standing over his fallen foe, his face hard and his own eyes roused and glittering.
And of course, there was Manners, MacDonald, Morgan, Greylings, Will and Lord Cusplip all standing on the front steps. MacDonald and Morgan looked rather amused by the spectacle of their driver getting floored. An emotion sadly not felt by the rest of the party judging by the venomous stares being levelled my way.
“I can explain this,” I began.
Hamilton swung around, still on his knees. Pryce went stumbling into the car, and was promptly lost to view as Hamilton rose like a titan from the frothing ocean.
For the next few, mortifying, half-seconds, it was hard to tell which bits belonged to my valet, and which parts belonged to the man trying to scoop out his insides. A prospect I found I disliked intensely. My planned apology to Lord Cusplip went by the wayside as I plunged into the maelstrom, making instinctive grabs for scruffs of necks. A sharp tug and spin with each wrist brought Pryce and Hamilton back into focus. Hamilton, however, was one of those men who takes severe affront to being held by said scruff. He let out a wordless bellow of fury, and the next thing I knew I was hitting the stone steps with a bump.
“Hamilton!”
Manner’s voice cut through the melee like a rifle-shot.
Instant silence fell, and I cautiously raised my eyes to the level of my host.
Lord Cusplip quivered, then turned to Greylings.
“Greylings, will you please fetch Master Davis’ hat and coat. He and his companions will be leaving at once.”
*~*~*~*
You know, somehow, although I had never imagined actually having my own personal gentleman’s gentleman, if I had ever imagined such a thing, the picture would probably have included the man teaching me how to use the right fork, or wear the appropriate hat for the occasion.
It would not, ever, have included me staggering back into the house, mere hours after being introduced to said new valet, feeling emotionally and physically as if I’d just been dropped from the top of a cliff and then washed up over coral reefs. Any illusions that this man would be the one taking tender care of me, were completely shattered.
I opened my mouth to ask for a stiff one, only to find Pryce had already shed his hat and overcoat and was standing peacefully holding forth a silver tray with the needed ingredients.
“Right,” I managed, after quaffing a few strong ones. “Sit. Explain.”
“Sir?”
“Don’t you ‘sir’ me,” I said, more calmly than I felt. “I asked you to come up to the hall because – for some reason – I thought you might want to help me.”
“Sir-”
“What the hell was that between you and Manners?”
“Sir-”
“Why do I get the feeling there’s a backstory here you’re not telling me, hmm?” I paused and took a moment to breathe. “Look, I appreciated you trying to get Manners to back down. But I don’t appreciate you using my friend’s problems as an excuse to get one over on the Manners clan for your own arguments. Will’s not part of whatever’s going on; you have no right to use him like that.”
“If I could explain-”
“Start right now,” I snapped. And yes, maybe I was being a little curt with him, but at that moment it was his feelings versus Will’s, and Will quite easily won hands down. “Tomorrow I’m going back there to try and fix up this mess we’ve dumped Mr Davis in, and I don’t want any unpleasant surprises. Understand? I want to know exactly what Manners could say. You will tell me. Because I’m not going to risk being blindsided by Manners pulling out some unsavoury past story like you having had a roll in the hay with his daughter or something.”
There was the most horrible, terrible, lengthy silence.
Pryce didn’t meet my gaze.
“Right. Fine, well, yes, I can understand why he might be a little hostile towards you,” I reached for the sofa and guided myself into a sitting position.
It would be me who’d get the valet with skeletons in his cupboard capable of bringing a knighted law demon breathing fire down my neck.
“As there’s only one female of that clan I’ve met so far, I’m guessing we’re talking about Miss Lilah Morgan?”
“Yes, sir.” His voice was only just above a whisper, and he still wouldn’t look at me.
“Were you working for them at the time?”
“No, sir. It happened many years ago, before I took up this profession. I was their guest, sir.”
I lowered my head into my hands. This had to happen to me.
“So what happened, Pryce?”
He didn’t say anything, and for a moment I considered letting him keep his silence, but then I remembered Will’s face on the steps, and that insufferable smirk on MacDonald’s. So I’ll admit, I wasn’t the most sensitive guy in the room right then.
“Pryce,” I said calmly, “you realise that you are what is commonly called ‘a liability’. When I walk into a room full of people I’ve never met, I want to create a good impression. I don’t want to be burdened with someone else’s history and bad reputation. And I really don’t’ want to get drawn into their own personal fights. Particularly when someone like Will is needing all the help I can give him. Do you follow me? I can’t keep that kind of person in my employ.”
There was a slight pause before Pryce realised I was waiting for a response. He blinked that single, careful blink, then merely offered:
“Indeed, sir.”
“You’ve got to give me more to go on, Pryce.”
“You have the basic facts regarding the causes of the hostility between myself and Sir Holland, sir. I assure you there is no further relevant information that could-”
“Fine. You’re fired.”
“Very good, sir.”
He tried to do that vanishing thing again, but I’d already twigged from his reply that he’d missed the point.
“Pryce, wait.”
He faded into view beside the sideboard, looking unfairly calm and detached. This time he met my eyes, but his own were completely unreadable.
“That was your way out,” I said.
“Yes, sir, the door is often used for exiting a room.”
“I meant, me firing you. That was your way out.”
“Sir?”
I took a deep breath and half-reached for the glass before remembering that it would still be empty.
“An Englishman will never kiss and tell. I know that, Pryce. Especially when he’s a servant, everyone knows that butlers-”
“Valet, sir.”
“- valets are loyal to the last to their masters. I don’t know if it’s professional discretion or rules or what. But they’d provide an alibi for murder itself if they were asked to, and go to prison saying they’re telling the truth.”
“These gentlemen have clearly passed me by.”
“What I mean is,” I said, and I was feeling dog tired by then, “you’re not in my service anymore, Pryce.”
“I was aware of this state of affairs, sir.”
“So now you can stop with the sir’s and just talk to me. Man to man, as it were.”
He blinked, the puzzled blink this time rather than the slow contemplative kind.
By that stage, I finally had the bare bones of my plan mapped out. I was beginning to figure out what to do. Some of my panic subsided, and I settled more comfortably in my chair. Or as comfortably as I could considering the twinges and aches that were starting to blossom to full fruitfulness. Hamilton packed a mean punch.
“Look, imagine we’re at a pub, Pryce,” I said with forced cheerfulness. “We’ve had a few drinks; we’re sharing our tales of life.”
“It would still be unseemly to mention a lady’s name, sir.”
“Lady my foot. Anyway it doesn’t matter. I don’t need names, just a nice helpful, time-passing, background filling, tale. I mean, me, I spent years in New York and can now say that I’ve been in love a grand total of once, messed it up big time, and accidentally caused the incineration of a block of offices when there was a mix-up with a filming crew. See, no names at all. But you still get the picture, right?”
He wavered; I could see it, a tiny narrowing of the eyes and thinning of the lips. I tried to think of something to give him that extra shove over the brink. Probably his tale was quite tame, I mean, who hasn’t gotten frisky with a girl that they probably shouldn’t have at one time or another? Still, I suppose if you’re English then it’s equivalent to letting the marauders in on your watch. Muddies the name, and they do love to keep their reputations nice and shiny clean. The English, that is, not the marauders.
I thought for a second, then made the decision. It was a slight risk, but I’d landed Will right in it, so I put it down as a risk worth taking.
“Anyway,” I said, continuing as casually as I could, “so, yes, and then there was that time in Paris, and continuing with this no names thing, you understand. Now, that was a good time. The walks down moon-lit boulevards, smell of smoke in the theatres, some lovely lad offering to walk you home-”
Pryce went rigid, although actually there wasn’t that much obvious change from his previous stance. But I knew he’d got the point.
I dropped the smile and spoke with what I hoped was a level, reasonable tone.
“Now, if you wanted to, you could cause me some serious trouble over that. I hope you don’t, though. I’m hoping that maybe you’ll take it as a sign of trust. Or at the very least, tit for tat, as they say.”
“I do not wish you ill, Mr Connor.”
“Good.”
He went silent, then let out a short sigh.
“Very well,” he said briskly. “In this purely passing tale, you wanted the full history?”
“Yes.”
“It really doesn’t bear much on what Holland had to say to me today.”
“Just background on you, Pryce, would be a good thing.”
Pryce nodded, frowned a little as the eyes went distant with flashing memory. Then, he drew himself up a little, and began.
Chapter Eight:
“As a child, sir, I attended a quite selective academy down in southern Hampshire. The training given was thorough to say the least, and the range of taught subjects impressive. The expectation of the pupils who studied there was correspondingly very high. In some ways, the environment there could be said to be liberating. Your name was of no consequence; no resting on the laurels of your family’s past achievements. It was your own personal ability to meet the task set before you that determined your calibre and worth. In such circumstances, whether you chose to work with a former apprenticed blacksmith or a lord of a manor was really a moot point. And so, through a mutual friend, I came to know a somewhat illustrious family that lived on an estate not too far distant.
One summer, my father having important matters to attend to and being desirous of a quiet household, I accepted an invitation to stay at this family’s residence. Upon my arrival, I was introduced to the household, including my host’s stepdaughter. She was a most remarkable young lady in many respects, but from the outset, it was clear we did not see eye to eye. Unsurprisingly, as a result of our being kept in such unavoidable close proximity; we had many long, heated and increasingly sharp altercations. I cannot say that we remained altogether civil, sir.”
Pryce hesitated and seemed to be trying to choose his next words with great care. I could guess what had happened next, and sure enough when he resumed, his next few words confirmed my suspicions.
“There is often a certain… spark in such situations. Loathing is a very powerful emotion, and that can cause people to act in ways not in keeping with their normal character.”
“Oh, I know all about that,” I sighed. “Nothing spells trouble more quickly than two birds who hate each other on sight. If you’re lucky the worst that happens is wedding bells.”
“I doubt if that possibility was ever even a remote one, sir, not in our case. But for a while there was uncertainty, until events finally clarified themselves for both of us. It left a great bitterness, even greater than before, between myself and this young lady. Once she realised the most I could offer was straightforward detestation, I no longer amused her. She went to her stepfather and informed him I had made unwanted and inappropriate advances towards her. My host was, naturally, not best pleased.”
Again, Pryce’s lips tightened; clearly we approached the crux of the whole thing.
“He informed my father and the academy’s headmaster of the accusation levelled against me. Under normal circumstances of course, his first port of call should have been the police station. However, he said he felt reluctant to sully the good name of both my family and that of the academy, simply for the crime of one rogue adolescent male. He very kindly promised to let the matter remain quiet, on condition that certain reparations were immediately made towards his own family.
My father was looking for an appointment within the House of Lords that year; a well-known Law Lord retired later that month. Naturally, the opinion of his peers on the bench was of great importance to him. And, for his part, the headmaster had the reputation of his academy to consider. The academy plays a unique role, sir, in the… protection of this land’s inhabitants. It cannot and could not be jeopardised for so trivial a cause.
I was expelled without question. My father brought me home and effectively hid me until he judged the immediate danger had passed. In the meantime, the girl’s stepfather was elected to the chair of the board of academy governors. He also proposed amendments to a bill my father had championed. It was passed unchallenged.”
I frowned. Not for any single reason, there being quite a few I took issue with, but one obvious point bugged me.
“Going back a little bit,” I said, “you did tell them that you didn’t do it? I mean, you didn’t, did you?”
“No, sir.”
“I wasn’t doubting you,” I added quickly, flinching at the glance flickered my way. “It’s just… I don’t know, it’s just I can’t see you as a kid who had a blot on his record up until that point. Wouldn’t they have… Didn’t your Dad at least ask you-?”
“I told them the allegations were wholly unfounded.”
The previous bite had gone. Pryce settled again, looking completely untroubled by the way the tale ended. Or maybe it was just resigned.
“Didn’t your father, well, say something to Manners?”
“No, sir. The stakes were considered too high to risk enflaming the situation.”
He didn’t shrug as such, but still he managed to shrug it off using just his voice and another quick glance.
“Oh.”
“And that’s really all there is to tell, sir. I was destined for administrative work at the local magistrate’s office, but I confess I allowed myself a rather childish outburst of temper and I left. A friend from the academy – the valet of the headmaster in fact - helped me find my way into this profession. I disowned my father, he disowned me. So in fact we are, at last, in perfect agreement.”
“Right.” I contemplated this for a nonce. I couldn’t say that the English were striking me as a particularly nice bunch. And, frankly, it wasn’t my place to criticise Pryce’s father. Not back then. “Right, well, yes, wow. Thanks for sharing, although it doesn’t really help us with the Will and the reading tomorrow.”
“No, sir, but you did say you wanted-”
“Yes, the full story, I know. Right. Pryce, you’re engaged again.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Where is your father, by the way?”
But at once I realised I should have asked that question before putting the leash back on him. He gave me a kind look and said politely:
“I believe he is currently in Scotland, sir.”
And perhaps it was my imagination, but he sounded a little too smug about that geographical situation than possibly a proper valet should.
I resigned myself to knowing that I would never really know what was going on inside my valet’s head. At least his story explained the nasty vibes earlier between him and the Manners clan, as well as going some way to explain the way he’d clammed up when talk turned to parents. Although, I remembered, fathers hadn’t been the only topic to put Pryce on edge. Then again, possibly his rather bittersweet take on friendship was simply a reflection on the way it was a valet who’d stuck by him rather than his own kin and blood. A view I could fully understand given my own history with Will.
“Well, warn me if it looks like he’s heading our way, will you?”
“The contingency is a remote one, sir.”
“Better safe than sorry, Pryce.”
“Very true, sir.”
And just like that, the meeting was over. I knew it from the way he said ‘sir’; all light and proper, with no hint of anything other than good-tempered patience.
I heaved a sigh and my sides promptly snagged and burst into flames. The wear and tear of the day was really making itself known.
Pryce stirred, his features stirring with what might have been concern.
“Are you very sore, sir?”
I heaved myself to my feet, trying to ignore the pins and needles and pick-axes that applied themselves to various bits of me as I did so.
“I think, maybe, a bath, and an early night would be good,” I said.
He nodded, and went before me to the door, which had been left ajar from his previous attempted exit. I carefully trudged after him, glumly aware from past experience of the pain my new bruises would be the following morning, and allowing myself a brief moment of self-pity. So I didn’t realise he had stopped dead in his tracks until I almost collided with him.
The door stood fully open, beyond was the hallway and the curve of the staircase to bath-time heaven. A soft breeze was making some unseen papers rustle, the sound of a distant thrush giving it some oomph was unusually clear. I quickly realised the cause: I’d left the front door open when I’d stormed in.
The results included not only the aforementioned incoming breeze and birdsong, but also one Robert Knox, who stood framed by the doorway, his eyes glued to Pryce and his face not at all happy.
“Well, hey there,” he said coldly.
“Good evening, Mr Knox.”
“Hi,” I said, as cheerfully as possible considering that only an idiot could have missed the storm clouds rapidly gathering over the three of us.
Knox didn’t show any sign he heard me.
“You know, Pryce, I never could understand why you just vanished like that.”
“I’ll go, erm, take a stroll in the garden,” I muttered to no-one in particular, retreating into the interior of the room.
“It was not my intention for you to learn about things in this manner-”
“Oh, cut the crap,” snapped Knox, his tone slicing through the air like a knife. “You had no intention of telling me at all. You were hardly overjoyed to see me earlier, were you?”
“Knox-”
“They’ve been good to me,” Knox went on, and even though I couldn’t see him, I could tell he was getting worked up. “Lilah sent me a postcard when she went to Italy. I sent you God knows how many letters and how many did you answer? You don’t get to say things like that about them.”
“It did not concern you.”
“Like hell it didn’t! We were supposed to be friends, you lying worm. You were the one who just upped and left without a word of explanation. I worried about you, though God knows why. And then when you do show up again, I’m the one who’s treated like I did the walking out.”
“At the time I didn’t have much choice in the matter.” Pryce’s voice was very flat, quiet and controlled. Possibly the closest he could get to a growl while still in uniform. “Afterwards there was nothing to gain from-”
“From what?” Knox too had gone nastily calm. “Letting me know you hadn’t fallen off the face of the planet? Did you think I wouldn’t have believed you? I would have, if you’d said something. But now… Well, you know, innocent men usually protest their innocence, Pryce. And I remember you preaching on about how we should always be honest and truthful.”
“I still hold that belief.”
Knox snorted.
“You run off, and then turn up as a servant and start spreading nasty tales about my friends. What is this? Some kind of pay back, trying to make me feel bad?”
“Sir?”
“I came down here for something but now I’ve completely forgotten,” Knox seemed to be talking to himself rather than to Pryce. “Never mind, I’m sure it wasn’t important.” He cleared his throat. “See you later, Liam!”
The front door slammed shut and after a few safe minutes, I risked looking at Pryce.
“When you said you knew that family through a mutual friend, I’m guessing-”
“Yes, sir.”
“Damn, it really is a small world.” I pondered the chances of all these people being on the same spot at the same time as I made my first public appearance. “Are you alright?”
“Of course, sir.” Pryce turned to face me. One of his hands was playing with the seam of his jacket, rather than in its usual position of rigidity by his side. He caught me looking and instantly stilled the movement. “I will go and run your bath for you, sir.”
“So Knox didn’t know- Okay, okay, fine, I won’t say another word.”
“Come up in your own time, sir.”
He flitted out and I helped myself to another drink before following.
The sun had sunk low enough that the curtains had been drawn and the lamps lit. My bed hadn’t yet been turned down for the night, but it was certainly more tidy than I remembered leaving it. A clean glass and jug of water stood on the side. The door to the bathroom swung open to let Pryce in, a small waft of moist and pleasantly warm smelling air swirling in with him. He came over and helped me out of my jacket before I even realised what he was doing.
“Dinner will be served at seven thirty, sir, unless you desire otherwise?”
“What? Oh, yes, yes, that’s fine.”
“Very good, sir.”
I had more important things to be thinking about than dinnertime. It seemed I had been dropped into the middle of the kind of reunion that normally featured in penny thrillers. And most of it seemed to be down to Pryce. Which, I decided, whilst very confusing and a little upsetting, still didn’t help me on the Will front. And it was Will who needed an immediate solution. The unresolved histories and broken friendships had survived this long; they could survive until tomorrow morning. Will’s dilemma wouldn’t.
I was pulling off a thoughtful sock when I noticed Pryce hadn’t yet left the room. My jacket was being held with regretful distaste. I could see why a valet might turn his nose up at such an item, rumpled didn’t even come close to describing it. Possibly the kindest word would was; tired.
“You can just throw it out, if you want,” I said. The right sleeve looked like all it would take was one hard sneeze to send it fluttering away with the wind.
“Thank you, sir.”
I continued with careful peeling away of the outer layers, and I really was dead on my feet. So it was only when the shirt was half hanging off me that I realised Pryce was still in the room, deftly collecting discarded items. And half a second later, I also remembered that amongst the pearls of wisdom exchanged earlier, I’d effectively told Pryce that I ‘swung both ways’. Along with realisation came a blush I could feel spreading over my neck and shoulders and that I prayed Pryce wouldn’t notice. True, he hadn’t taken the news badly, nor had he been hostile. He had seemed a merely little cautious, though considering I’d just fired him, that was hardly surprising. Still, I didn’t want him to think I was some kind of exhibitionist who took joy in airily stripping off in front of every pretty lad that crossed my path.
“You don’t have to stay, Pryce,” I said a little awkwardly.
Pryce was folding my waistcoat over his arm along with the socks and tie and sad looking jacket.
“Sir?”
“I don’t want you to feel obliged, that’s all, not if it makes you uncomfortable. I saw you looked a little shocked when I said what I did.”
“I’m not sure I-” He stopped and the proverbial light went on behind the eyes. “Ah, I see, sir. No, sir, that really is not an issue.” He looked a gnat’s hair away from letting one corner of his mouth quirk upwards. “If I may speak frankly, sir?”
Fat chance, I thought. “Always.”
“I must admit that it was not the confirmations of my suspicions that shocked me, sir. More that you had voluntarily told me when you had no guarantee that I would not simply walk out and report you to the local constabulary.”
“Oh, I never thought that you- Wait, what do you mean ‘suspicions’?”
“Merely wondered, sir. You clearly have a very close friendship with Master Davis, but at times there were signs of what might have been part of a greater attachment.”
“Me and Will!” I sat bolt upright. “Oh no, no, no! Well, I mean, yes, but that was just once and very long ago and we were incredibly drunk and-”
“Yes, sir,” Pryce interrupted smoothly. “If I might mention it, sir, the waters will be starting to cool.”
The thought of sinking into a lukewarm bath sent me hurriedly relocating into the bathroom. The air was warm and wonderfully thick with fragrant clouds of steam. The duck was gone from his perch on the sink. He sat proudly next to the soap and a wooden handled back bath brush and a fluffy white flannel. They in turn were all ringed around the frankly heavenly looking pool of slightly misted water whence issued both steam and scent of bath salts. My right toe, that being the first part of me to go in, sent the message that the temperature was just right; a sharp sting of heat that quickly gave way to a snug glow.
I stretched out, almost utterly content, the water lapping nicely around the shoulders.
A slight draught and then the sound of activity around the towel area suggested Pryce had re-entered the room.
I opened one eye and sure enough, there was that black upright figure rearranging the towels. He seemed utterly at ease with being in the room while I was in the bath so it seemed rude to make a fuss about it. Still, I swiftly rearranged my position so that a little privacy was maintained.
“Where did you come by these trousers, sir?” Pryce had picked them up from the floor.
“Will got them from some tailor-guy down in some street-or-other.”
Pryce shot me a look.
“Most illuminating, sir.”
“Why, is there something wrong with them?”
“No, sir. In fact I ask because they are of exceptionally high quality. I would have liked to have been able to take a note of the gentleman responsible.”
“Oh,” I felt unusually pleased with this speck of praise. Deciding that I might as well follow Pryce’s example and go about business as usual, I reached for the wooden handle of the back brush. But as soon as I tried to go through the motions of hauling the thing over my shoulder, my ribs sharply reminded me that they were taking the evening off.
As soon as the stars had cleared, I realised that Pryce had silently put himself once more right by my side.
He held out his hand.
“If you would permit, sir? It would prevent causing any further discomfort and possible damage.”
I clutched the brush to me.
“You don’t have to,” I said, trying to keep my voice as even as possible given the circumstances. “Honestly, I don’t want you to think that-”
Pryce again gave me that hint of a smile.
“Sir, I trust in your integrity, I would not offer if I seriously thought you entertained notions of exploiting the relationship between employer and valet. However if my actions are making you uncomfortable then-”
“No,” I said instantly, lying through my teeth in order to not hurt his feelings. “I mean, I’m new to this whole having a valet thing and, well, it takes some getting used to.”
He took the brush from my hand and vanished from sight.
“I can understand that, sir.”
I pulled my knees a little tighter towards me and used them as a prop for my arms and chin. This day was rapidly soaring to that prized position as one of the most memorable days of my life. Whether it would be as the worst or best remained to be decided, though at that time the former seemed in pole position. I sat, no, huddled there, knowing what was coming. And sure enough, the first firm glide of the brush over the back, hesitated for a fraction.
“It’s an old one,” I said quietly.
I knew what he was seeing, I’d been careful to keep the sight from him beforehand when removing the clothes.
It was an old scar, but quite dramatic I suppose when you’re seeing it for the first time. Because it’s on the back, I’ve never seen it myself. The odd glimpse in the mirror perhaps, but nothing more. A delicate gash, thin and clear. Pale skin all puckered upwards like a tiny mountain range. It started low down, then rose and peaked in the small of my back, before sinking and smoothing out into the dip of the spine.
Just the one. But still enough to cause remark. Had caused remarks many times.
Pryce resumed his task with a simple ‘Very good, sir’. He wasn’t overly gentle; the battered patches twinging a small protest as he efficiently rubbed the soap over them. Still, in some ways, it was almost relaxing. The bristles sweeping in tingling circles and curves.
“Courtesy of my father,” I continued, answering the question most people would have asked. “Just the once. He was drunk; used the wrong end of the belt.”
“You don’t have to tell me this, sir.”
“I know.” I reached out and balanced the duck on my knees. It wobbled slightly, then settled. “But it saves wondering later on. Besides, it really was just the once. Gave him a shock. He never touched the bottle again and afterwards began on with this ‘you must live a virtuous life’ lifestyle. Right regular at the local church, he was.”
“A complicated situation for you, sir.”
“Yes, at the time it was.”
The pressure lifted off my back and Pryce appeared once more in my line of vision. He held out the brush, wooden handle first. I was a little rattled so I took the thing off of him rather quickly. His fingers were icy cold in comparison with the warmth of the bathtub, so I couldn’t help it if a slight snap went through the veins when I accidentally caught the tips of them under my palm.
“Dinner at seven thirty, sir,” he reminded me, cool as you like. Then he gathered up the clothing in one graceful sweep of the arm, and vanished through the door.
“Don’t say anything,” I muttered to the duck. It obediently shut up.
Next part here.
eloise_bright muchly for her wonderful beta-ing and enabling skills. This fic should be 11 parts in total, so alarmingly we're over halfway there... **eyes fic warily**Previous parts can be found here.
Chapter Seven:
“Christ almighty, can’t you manage anything without causing a bloody row!”
“I’m sorry, Will.”
“Walking out of the house, just walking out of the blasted house. That’s all you had to do and you even manage to mess that one up.”
“I’m sorry.”
“As if things weren’t bad enough already… Oh god, I’ll never be able to set foot in that house again. You’re a magnet for ill fortune, you know that.”
I sat in silence, feeling about as high as my shoelaces. Will continued steering with angry jerks of the wheel that made the car shudder and clip the passing hedgerow.
“Next time, why not just take a shotgun to my skull, it’d be quicker, less messy and still have the required effect.”
“Will-”
“And aren’t you going to say a single word in all this?”
Pryce, technically the cause of Will’s wrath, merely said: “I am sorry to have caused you distress, Mr Davis.”
Will glowered at him in the car mirror. “Demon spawn.”
“Hey,” I said, firmly, “you would have done the same thing.”
“I wouldn’t have been idiotic enough to have been caught,” Will spat back.
I peeked back at Pryce and something about the set of the lips, a certain spark in the eye, made me wonder whether Will was right in supposing that last part had been accidental.
We had left that small room with the best of intentions. I had gone to wait at the front steps while Pryce vanished to collect my coat and keys for the car. Since I had no wish to bump into any of the guests, I wound up hiding in the recess of the umbrella stand. I waited, and waited, and waited. Until I finally lost my patience and stalked off in search of my valet.
Did I mention the part about that house being huge? We’re talking east and west wings, underground servants’ quarters, a general labyrinth disguised as someone’s home. I half-expected a hungry minotaur to come sidling out of a side door. It was with the desperation of the drowning man throwing himself at passing driftwood that, when I rounded the corner, I threw myself on the mercy of Greylings.
“Greylings, I’m lost!”
“How unfortunate, sir, if you would like-”
“Have you seen Pryce?”
Greylings sniffed. “In passing, sir.”
I didn’t have the time for Greylings being all uppity, so I was rather short with him.
“Just tell me where he is, Greylings.”
Greylings eyed me coldly.
“I could not say, sir. He was headed for the staff level with apparent urgency and did not stop to confide in me his precise destination.”
I stifled a groan. I had no wish to go diving into the bowels of the earth in search of Pryce, but this house was becoming more and more hostile by the minute. With a wave I dismissed Greylings and stomped off to the stone archway that led to the bare stairwell. As I descended, all the colour and plushness of the main rooms vanished. Here were simple white walls, a hardy but plain carpet underfoot. And when I reached the main corridor, there was no carpet at all, instead there were large, well-cleaned and well-trodden flagstones stretching away in both directions. At one end, door to the garden threw a small window of natural light into the artificially lit surroundings.
“Sir? Are you lost?”
A young maid materialised through a doorway, carrying a large pile of what appeared to be freshly laundered linen. I straightened and tried to look nonchalant.
“Just looking for my man… servant, my manservant, I mean valet, that is…”
“Ah, Mr Pryce, sir?” She let out a sigh and shook her head. I’ve seen women give that motion, usually when they’re going ‘such a shame, such a shame’. “He’s in the china room, sir. Down that way, the third door on the right.”
She gave me a pitying look and went on her way.
I tried to both stride and cautiously inch towards the indicated portal. The door was a little ajar, and the first sneaked glance revealed a familiar looking back.
“Pryce!” I demanded, shooting hastily into the room and clicking the door to behind me. “Where the blast were- Oh, sorry, I didn’t realise you were talking to someone.”
For the room turned out to have one more person than I was expecting.
The pageboy who MacDonald had nearly brained in the kitchen garden during our earlier physical altercation, was perched on a stool. His face was rather blotchy, dark smudges of what looked like soot coating in equal measure his person and the handkerchief he was swiping across his neck. The handkerchief was fighting a losing battle, serving to distribute the grime more evenly rather than actually remove anything.
Pryce, who had been standing with his back to the doorway, looked over his shoulder, his expression utterly unmoved and lacking contrition.
“I found this boy in a rather unprofessional state, sir, and was assisting him in the restoration of his appearance to that befitting his duties.”
The boy gave a choked hiccoughing noise that sounded suspiciously like a stifled sob.
Pryce instantly turned back. I couldn’t see his face, but his stance radiated all the concern and sympathy of an icicle.
“Pull yourself together, Edwin. That kind of behaviour won’t help anyone now, least of all yourself.”
I flinched, and the boy bit his lip and sat a little straighter.
“When you say ‘unprofessional state’, Pryce?”
“I found him in the coal shed, sir. The small one just outside in the garden, the one with the red brick, just on the right, not the larger-”
“The coal shed?” I examined Edwin a little more closely. His eyes shone with suspicious dampness, although when I met his gaze he blinked and practically glared back at me. “Well, that’s what happens when you start playing around the workplace. Locked yourself in, did you?”
“I’m not that stupid,” Edwin scoffed, anger now crumpling his features. “That fish-faced Hamilton nobbled me!”
“Sir Holland’s driver, sir,” Pryce explained, with what was unmistakably a note of warning.
“Oh.” I took another look at the bedraggled state of Edwin, the slight red tinge to the eyes. “Did he give a reason?”
“Said I shouldn’t have told on Mr MacDonald,” Edwin chipped in, his face set with grim satisfaction. “I don’t care! I don’t like Manners, he hit me just cos I trod on his hat. I’m glad everyone laughed at him.” He snorted defiantly.
“It seems Sir Holland was not too pleased with his nephew’s display earlier having a large audience, sir. Apparently he judged young Edwin here responsible for the unwanted publicity.”
“He nearly got me with his elbow!” Edwin protested angrily. “Of course I told on him. It’s not my fault the guests overheard. They shouldn’t eavesdrop.”
“He shouted the news to Greylings in the hallway, sir,” Pryce continued placidly.
Not surprisingly, I was thinking some rather unkind descriptions of Manners.
“So he told his driver to take it out on a mere child,” I said frostily.
“It was a foreseeable risk, sir,” Pryce said. He once more addressed Edwin. “It was most unwise to act so rashly. Especially when the matter concerned the Manners family. However, what’s done is done; I trust you have learnt from this experience. That coal dust has not been completely removed, I suggest you take yourself to the wash basin and try to perform a more thorough job in cleaning yourself. You cannot appear in public in that state.”
“Yes, Mr Pryce.”
Edwin deflated a little, hopped off his perch and scurried past me.
There was a faint buzzing in my ears as I gazed with mild disbelief at Pryce.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re more angry at the kid than at the bully who did that to him?”
Pryce hadn’t turned round, he still stood with his hands by his side, the back of his head refusing to help me understand what was actually going on inside that brain of his.
“That Hamilton had no right to treat someone like that,” I continued, hoping that maybe Pryce would chime in with some show of feeling. “I mean, locking kids in coal sheds? And what for? Just because MacDonald got a public roasting? Edwin was coated in the stuff, are we talking really small sheds here?”
“Yes, sir. Although the child was encased for nearly an hour and it is unlikely he was immobile during that time. A certain amount of wear and tear is to be expected.”
“An hour!”
Pryce turned round, and my heart sank at the blank, unruffled look on his face. Even his eyes were emotionless, not even a spark of excitement or moral outrage.
“That boy had been crying, Pryce,” I pointed out, definitely a little angry now. “To be locked in the dark like that…”
“The child is claustrophobic, sir,” Pryce interrupted coolly. “Doubtless the experience was magnified beyond reality for him by that affliction.”
I was beyond gaping, I just gave him the coldest look possible.
“I don’t understand you, Pryce.”
“I wasn’t asking you to, sir. If you will excuse me.”
And just like that, he walked out on me. Stalked right past me, opened the door and strolled off as casual as can be. After a stunned pause, I hurried after him. He didn’t look at me, continuing with measured step towards the door at the end of the corridor.
“Pryce,” I said, trailing after him as he exited the building, “look, I’m aware it’s probably part of this whole English thing you have going for you, but sometimes-”
He took a sharp right turn and I was vaguely aware of the garages coming into view as I dodged a prickly rosebush.
“Sometimes,” I continued levelly, “a little show of emotion wouldn’t do you any harm, you know that? There’s a difference between stiff upper lip and being an unfeeling cold-hearted brick.”
Pryce stopped briefly and looked into the shadows of the garage. Then he moved off again, this time towards the front of the house.
“Pryce, will you stop a minute!”
And he did. He stopped, swiftly removed his jacket and handed it to me.
“If you could hold this a moment, sir.”
“What?” I looked at the item in my hands, trying to remember what I had been saying. “Pryce, have you been listening to a word I was saying?”
He was already gone, gravel crunching beneath his feet. He had a slight start on me, so I gave a quick trot to draw level. Except that, halfway there, I suddenly realised the scene we were about to enter, and faltered.
“Er, Pryce…”
It was too late. Pryce had already spotted who he had been looking for. Manner’s car stood shining in the pink afternoon sunshine. One door had just opened and a tall man built like a tank was straightening himself and his driver’s cap. His shoulders and chest were like barrels, and he so towered over the car that it seemed impossible to imagine him folding himself small enough to fit in the front seat. In short, as Pryce made a beeline for him, I felt like I was watching a tiny dingy attempting to ram an oil barge.
“Pryce!” I broke into a run, hoping to get there before he broke any major bones like, say, his spine.
Hamilton turned at the sound of our approach, and his face curved into a sneer as he spied Pryce.
“Why, Mr Pryce, how nice to see you again.”
I didn’t hear what Pryce said in response because I half-tripped over the edge of the lawn. After a quick flurry, I regained my footing just in time to see Hamilton slam the car door shut. There was Hamilton, sneer still in place. Before him was the slight form of my undoubtedly ill-fated and doomed valet.
Except, even as Hamilton tossed his head dismissively and made a casual swipe with his paw that would have disembowelled an ox, Pryce was suddenly to one side, his fist connecting with surgical precision to the giant’s Adam’s apple.
It was like watching a mountain collapse. Hamilton doubled over, gagging, and through a daze of utter shock I saw Pryce deliver a sharp blow to the back of the suddenly-in-range head. At the same time one knee came up so that as Hamilton continued his downward path…
And there we all were. I, standing like a fool, holding Pryce’s ridiculously respectable black jacket. Hamilton choking on the floor but already recovering and half-raising himself, eyes aflame with fury. Pryce standing over his fallen foe, his face hard and his own eyes roused and glittering.
And of course, there was Manners, MacDonald, Morgan, Greylings, Will and Lord Cusplip all standing on the front steps. MacDonald and Morgan looked rather amused by the spectacle of their driver getting floored. An emotion sadly not felt by the rest of the party judging by the venomous stares being levelled my way.
“I can explain this,” I began.
Hamilton swung around, still on his knees. Pryce went stumbling into the car, and was promptly lost to view as Hamilton rose like a titan from the frothing ocean.
For the next few, mortifying, half-seconds, it was hard to tell which bits belonged to my valet, and which parts belonged to the man trying to scoop out his insides. A prospect I found I disliked intensely. My planned apology to Lord Cusplip went by the wayside as I plunged into the maelstrom, making instinctive grabs for scruffs of necks. A sharp tug and spin with each wrist brought Pryce and Hamilton back into focus. Hamilton, however, was one of those men who takes severe affront to being held by said scruff. He let out a wordless bellow of fury, and the next thing I knew I was hitting the stone steps with a bump.
“Hamilton!”
Manner’s voice cut through the melee like a rifle-shot.
Instant silence fell, and I cautiously raised my eyes to the level of my host.
Lord Cusplip quivered, then turned to Greylings.
“Greylings, will you please fetch Master Davis’ hat and coat. He and his companions will be leaving at once.”
*~*~*~*
You know, somehow, although I had never imagined actually having my own personal gentleman’s gentleman, if I had ever imagined such a thing, the picture would probably have included the man teaching me how to use the right fork, or wear the appropriate hat for the occasion.
It would not, ever, have included me staggering back into the house, mere hours after being introduced to said new valet, feeling emotionally and physically as if I’d just been dropped from the top of a cliff and then washed up over coral reefs. Any illusions that this man would be the one taking tender care of me, were completely shattered.
I opened my mouth to ask for a stiff one, only to find Pryce had already shed his hat and overcoat and was standing peacefully holding forth a silver tray with the needed ingredients.
“Right,” I managed, after quaffing a few strong ones. “Sit. Explain.”
“Sir?”
“Don’t you ‘sir’ me,” I said, more calmly than I felt. “I asked you to come up to the hall because – for some reason – I thought you might want to help me.”
“Sir-”
“What the hell was that between you and Manners?”
“Sir-”
“Why do I get the feeling there’s a backstory here you’re not telling me, hmm?” I paused and took a moment to breathe. “Look, I appreciated you trying to get Manners to back down. But I don’t appreciate you using my friend’s problems as an excuse to get one over on the Manners clan for your own arguments. Will’s not part of whatever’s going on; you have no right to use him like that.”
“If I could explain-”
“Start right now,” I snapped. And yes, maybe I was being a little curt with him, but at that moment it was his feelings versus Will’s, and Will quite easily won hands down. “Tomorrow I’m going back there to try and fix up this mess we’ve dumped Mr Davis in, and I don’t want any unpleasant surprises. Understand? I want to know exactly what Manners could say. You will tell me. Because I’m not going to risk being blindsided by Manners pulling out some unsavoury past story like you having had a roll in the hay with his daughter or something.”
There was the most horrible, terrible, lengthy silence.
Pryce didn’t meet my gaze.
“Right. Fine, well, yes, I can understand why he might be a little hostile towards you,” I reached for the sofa and guided myself into a sitting position.
It would be me who’d get the valet with skeletons in his cupboard capable of bringing a knighted law demon breathing fire down my neck.
“As there’s only one female of that clan I’ve met so far, I’m guessing we’re talking about Miss Lilah Morgan?”
“Yes, sir.” His voice was only just above a whisper, and he still wouldn’t look at me.
“Were you working for them at the time?”
“No, sir. It happened many years ago, before I took up this profession. I was their guest, sir.”
I lowered my head into my hands. This had to happen to me.
“So what happened, Pryce?”
He didn’t say anything, and for a moment I considered letting him keep his silence, but then I remembered Will’s face on the steps, and that insufferable smirk on MacDonald’s. So I’ll admit, I wasn’t the most sensitive guy in the room right then.
“Pryce,” I said calmly, “you realise that you are what is commonly called ‘a liability’. When I walk into a room full of people I’ve never met, I want to create a good impression. I don’t want to be burdened with someone else’s history and bad reputation. And I really don’t’ want to get drawn into their own personal fights. Particularly when someone like Will is needing all the help I can give him. Do you follow me? I can’t keep that kind of person in my employ.”
There was a slight pause before Pryce realised I was waiting for a response. He blinked that single, careful blink, then merely offered:
“Indeed, sir.”
“You’ve got to give me more to go on, Pryce.”
“You have the basic facts regarding the causes of the hostility between myself and Sir Holland, sir. I assure you there is no further relevant information that could-”
“Fine. You’re fired.”
“Very good, sir.”
He tried to do that vanishing thing again, but I’d already twigged from his reply that he’d missed the point.
“Pryce, wait.”
He faded into view beside the sideboard, looking unfairly calm and detached. This time he met my eyes, but his own were completely unreadable.
“That was your way out,” I said.
“Yes, sir, the door is often used for exiting a room.”
“I meant, me firing you. That was your way out.”
“Sir?”
I took a deep breath and half-reached for the glass before remembering that it would still be empty.
“An Englishman will never kiss and tell. I know that, Pryce. Especially when he’s a servant, everyone knows that butlers-”
“Valet, sir.”
“- valets are loyal to the last to their masters. I don’t know if it’s professional discretion or rules or what. But they’d provide an alibi for murder itself if they were asked to, and go to prison saying they’re telling the truth.”
“These gentlemen have clearly passed me by.”
“What I mean is,” I said, and I was feeling dog tired by then, “you’re not in my service anymore, Pryce.”
“I was aware of this state of affairs, sir.”
“So now you can stop with the sir’s and just talk to me. Man to man, as it were.”
He blinked, the puzzled blink this time rather than the slow contemplative kind.
By that stage, I finally had the bare bones of my plan mapped out. I was beginning to figure out what to do. Some of my panic subsided, and I settled more comfortably in my chair. Or as comfortably as I could considering the twinges and aches that were starting to blossom to full fruitfulness. Hamilton packed a mean punch.
“Look, imagine we’re at a pub, Pryce,” I said with forced cheerfulness. “We’ve had a few drinks; we’re sharing our tales of life.”
“It would still be unseemly to mention a lady’s name, sir.”
“Lady my foot. Anyway it doesn’t matter. I don’t need names, just a nice helpful, time-passing, background filling, tale. I mean, me, I spent years in New York and can now say that I’ve been in love a grand total of once, messed it up big time, and accidentally caused the incineration of a block of offices when there was a mix-up with a filming crew. See, no names at all. But you still get the picture, right?”
He wavered; I could see it, a tiny narrowing of the eyes and thinning of the lips. I tried to think of something to give him that extra shove over the brink. Probably his tale was quite tame, I mean, who hasn’t gotten frisky with a girl that they probably shouldn’t have at one time or another? Still, I suppose if you’re English then it’s equivalent to letting the marauders in on your watch. Muddies the name, and they do love to keep their reputations nice and shiny clean. The English, that is, not the marauders.
I thought for a second, then made the decision. It was a slight risk, but I’d landed Will right in it, so I put it down as a risk worth taking.
“Anyway,” I said, continuing as casually as I could, “so, yes, and then there was that time in Paris, and continuing with this no names thing, you understand. Now, that was a good time. The walks down moon-lit boulevards, smell of smoke in the theatres, some lovely lad offering to walk you home-”
Pryce went rigid, although actually there wasn’t that much obvious change from his previous stance. But I knew he’d got the point.
I dropped the smile and spoke with what I hoped was a level, reasonable tone.
“Now, if you wanted to, you could cause me some serious trouble over that. I hope you don’t, though. I’m hoping that maybe you’ll take it as a sign of trust. Or at the very least, tit for tat, as they say.”
“I do not wish you ill, Mr Connor.”
“Good.”
He went silent, then let out a short sigh.
“Very well,” he said briskly. “In this purely passing tale, you wanted the full history?”
“Yes.”
“It really doesn’t bear much on what Holland had to say to me today.”
“Just background on you, Pryce, would be a good thing.”
Pryce nodded, frowned a little as the eyes went distant with flashing memory. Then, he drew himself up a little, and began.
Chapter Eight:
“As a child, sir, I attended a quite selective academy down in southern Hampshire. The training given was thorough to say the least, and the range of taught subjects impressive. The expectation of the pupils who studied there was correspondingly very high. In some ways, the environment there could be said to be liberating. Your name was of no consequence; no resting on the laurels of your family’s past achievements. It was your own personal ability to meet the task set before you that determined your calibre and worth. In such circumstances, whether you chose to work with a former apprenticed blacksmith or a lord of a manor was really a moot point. And so, through a mutual friend, I came to know a somewhat illustrious family that lived on an estate not too far distant.
One summer, my father having important matters to attend to and being desirous of a quiet household, I accepted an invitation to stay at this family’s residence. Upon my arrival, I was introduced to the household, including my host’s stepdaughter. She was a most remarkable young lady in many respects, but from the outset, it was clear we did not see eye to eye. Unsurprisingly, as a result of our being kept in such unavoidable close proximity; we had many long, heated and increasingly sharp altercations. I cannot say that we remained altogether civil, sir.”
Pryce hesitated and seemed to be trying to choose his next words with great care. I could guess what had happened next, and sure enough when he resumed, his next few words confirmed my suspicions.
“There is often a certain… spark in such situations. Loathing is a very powerful emotion, and that can cause people to act in ways not in keeping with their normal character.”
“Oh, I know all about that,” I sighed. “Nothing spells trouble more quickly than two birds who hate each other on sight. If you’re lucky the worst that happens is wedding bells.”
“I doubt if that possibility was ever even a remote one, sir, not in our case. But for a while there was uncertainty, until events finally clarified themselves for both of us. It left a great bitterness, even greater than before, between myself and this young lady. Once she realised the most I could offer was straightforward detestation, I no longer amused her. She went to her stepfather and informed him I had made unwanted and inappropriate advances towards her. My host was, naturally, not best pleased.”
Again, Pryce’s lips tightened; clearly we approached the crux of the whole thing.
“He informed my father and the academy’s headmaster of the accusation levelled against me. Under normal circumstances of course, his first port of call should have been the police station. However, he said he felt reluctant to sully the good name of both my family and that of the academy, simply for the crime of one rogue adolescent male. He very kindly promised to let the matter remain quiet, on condition that certain reparations were immediately made towards his own family.
My father was looking for an appointment within the House of Lords that year; a well-known Law Lord retired later that month. Naturally, the opinion of his peers on the bench was of great importance to him. And, for his part, the headmaster had the reputation of his academy to consider. The academy plays a unique role, sir, in the… protection of this land’s inhabitants. It cannot and could not be jeopardised for so trivial a cause.
I was expelled without question. My father brought me home and effectively hid me until he judged the immediate danger had passed. In the meantime, the girl’s stepfather was elected to the chair of the board of academy governors. He also proposed amendments to a bill my father had championed. It was passed unchallenged.”
I frowned. Not for any single reason, there being quite a few I took issue with, but one obvious point bugged me.
“Going back a little bit,” I said, “you did tell them that you didn’t do it? I mean, you didn’t, did you?”
“No, sir.”
“I wasn’t doubting you,” I added quickly, flinching at the glance flickered my way. “It’s just… I don’t know, it’s just I can’t see you as a kid who had a blot on his record up until that point. Wouldn’t they have… Didn’t your Dad at least ask you-?”
“I told them the allegations were wholly unfounded.”
The previous bite had gone. Pryce settled again, looking completely untroubled by the way the tale ended. Or maybe it was just resigned.
“Didn’t your father, well, say something to Manners?”
“No, sir. The stakes were considered too high to risk enflaming the situation.”
He didn’t shrug as such, but still he managed to shrug it off using just his voice and another quick glance.
“Oh.”
“And that’s really all there is to tell, sir. I was destined for administrative work at the local magistrate’s office, but I confess I allowed myself a rather childish outburst of temper and I left. A friend from the academy – the valet of the headmaster in fact - helped me find my way into this profession. I disowned my father, he disowned me. So in fact we are, at last, in perfect agreement.”
“Right.” I contemplated this for a nonce. I couldn’t say that the English were striking me as a particularly nice bunch. And, frankly, it wasn’t my place to criticise Pryce’s father. Not back then. “Right, well, yes, wow. Thanks for sharing, although it doesn’t really help us with the Will and the reading tomorrow.”
“No, sir, but you did say you wanted-”
“Yes, the full story, I know. Right. Pryce, you’re engaged again.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Where is your father, by the way?”
But at once I realised I should have asked that question before putting the leash back on him. He gave me a kind look and said politely:
“I believe he is currently in Scotland, sir.”
And perhaps it was my imagination, but he sounded a little too smug about that geographical situation than possibly a proper valet should.
I resigned myself to knowing that I would never really know what was going on inside my valet’s head. At least his story explained the nasty vibes earlier between him and the Manners clan, as well as going some way to explain the way he’d clammed up when talk turned to parents. Although, I remembered, fathers hadn’t been the only topic to put Pryce on edge. Then again, possibly his rather bittersweet take on friendship was simply a reflection on the way it was a valet who’d stuck by him rather than his own kin and blood. A view I could fully understand given my own history with Will.
“Well, warn me if it looks like he’s heading our way, will you?”
“The contingency is a remote one, sir.”
“Better safe than sorry, Pryce.”
“Very true, sir.”
And just like that, the meeting was over. I knew it from the way he said ‘sir’; all light and proper, with no hint of anything other than good-tempered patience.
I heaved a sigh and my sides promptly snagged and burst into flames. The wear and tear of the day was really making itself known.
Pryce stirred, his features stirring with what might have been concern.
“Are you very sore, sir?”
I heaved myself to my feet, trying to ignore the pins and needles and pick-axes that applied themselves to various bits of me as I did so.
“I think, maybe, a bath, and an early night would be good,” I said.
He nodded, and went before me to the door, which had been left ajar from his previous attempted exit. I carefully trudged after him, glumly aware from past experience of the pain my new bruises would be the following morning, and allowing myself a brief moment of self-pity. So I didn’t realise he had stopped dead in his tracks until I almost collided with him.
The door stood fully open, beyond was the hallway and the curve of the staircase to bath-time heaven. A soft breeze was making some unseen papers rustle, the sound of a distant thrush giving it some oomph was unusually clear. I quickly realised the cause: I’d left the front door open when I’d stormed in.
The results included not only the aforementioned incoming breeze and birdsong, but also one Robert Knox, who stood framed by the doorway, his eyes glued to Pryce and his face not at all happy.
“Well, hey there,” he said coldly.
“Good evening, Mr Knox.”
“Hi,” I said, as cheerfully as possible considering that only an idiot could have missed the storm clouds rapidly gathering over the three of us.
Knox didn’t show any sign he heard me.
“You know, Pryce, I never could understand why you just vanished like that.”
“I’ll go, erm, take a stroll in the garden,” I muttered to no-one in particular, retreating into the interior of the room.
“It was not my intention for you to learn about things in this manner-”
“Oh, cut the crap,” snapped Knox, his tone slicing through the air like a knife. “You had no intention of telling me at all. You were hardly overjoyed to see me earlier, were you?”
“Knox-”
“They’ve been good to me,” Knox went on, and even though I couldn’t see him, I could tell he was getting worked up. “Lilah sent me a postcard when she went to Italy. I sent you God knows how many letters and how many did you answer? You don’t get to say things like that about them.”
“It did not concern you.”
“Like hell it didn’t! We were supposed to be friends, you lying worm. You were the one who just upped and left without a word of explanation. I worried about you, though God knows why. And then when you do show up again, I’m the one who’s treated like I did the walking out.”
“At the time I didn’t have much choice in the matter.” Pryce’s voice was very flat, quiet and controlled. Possibly the closest he could get to a growl while still in uniform. “Afterwards there was nothing to gain from-”
“From what?” Knox too had gone nastily calm. “Letting me know you hadn’t fallen off the face of the planet? Did you think I wouldn’t have believed you? I would have, if you’d said something. But now… Well, you know, innocent men usually protest their innocence, Pryce. And I remember you preaching on about how we should always be honest and truthful.”
“I still hold that belief.”
Knox snorted.
“You run off, and then turn up as a servant and start spreading nasty tales about my friends. What is this? Some kind of pay back, trying to make me feel bad?”
“Sir?”
“I came down here for something but now I’ve completely forgotten,” Knox seemed to be talking to himself rather than to Pryce. “Never mind, I’m sure it wasn’t important.” He cleared his throat. “See you later, Liam!”
The front door slammed shut and after a few safe minutes, I risked looking at Pryce.
“When you said you knew that family through a mutual friend, I’m guessing-”
“Yes, sir.”
“Damn, it really is a small world.” I pondered the chances of all these people being on the same spot at the same time as I made my first public appearance. “Are you alright?”
“Of course, sir.” Pryce turned to face me. One of his hands was playing with the seam of his jacket, rather than in its usual position of rigidity by his side. He caught me looking and instantly stilled the movement. “I will go and run your bath for you, sir.”
“So Knox didn’t know- Okay, okay, fine, I won’t say another word.”
“Come up in your own time, sir.”
He flitted out and I helped myself to another drink before following.
The sun had sunk low enough that the curtains had been drawn and the lamps lit. My bed hadn’t yet been turned down for the night, but it was certainly more tidy than I remembered leaving it. A clean glass and jug of water stood on the side. The door to the bathroom swung open to let Pryce in, a small waft of moist and pleasantly warm smelling air swirling in with him. He came over and helped me out of my jacket before I even realised what he was doing.
“Dinner will be served at seven thirty, sir, unless you desire otherwise?”
“What? Oh, yes, yes, that’s fine.”
“Very good, sir.”
I had more important things to be thinking about than dinnertime. It seemed I had been dropped into the middle of the kind of reunion that normally featured in penny thrillers. And most of it seemed to be down to Pryce. Which, I decided, whilst very confusing and a little upsetting, still didn’t help me on the Will front. And it was Will who needed an immediate solution. The unresolved histories and broken friendships had survived this long; they could survive until tomorrow morning. Will’s dilemma wouldn’t.
I was pulling off a thoughtful sock when I noticed Pryce hadn’t yet left the room. My jacket was being held with regretful distaste. I could see why a valet might turn his nose up at such an item, rumpled didn’t even come close to describing it. Possibly the kindest word would was; tired.
“You can just throw it out, if you want,” I said. The right sleeve looked like all it would take was one hard sneeze to send it fluttering away with the wind.
“Thank you, sir.”
I continued with careful peeling away of the outer layers, and I really was dead on my feet. So it was only when the shirt was half hanging off me that I realised Pryce was still in the room, deftly collecting discarded items. And half a second later, I also remembered that amongst the pearls of wisdom exchanged earlier, I’d effectively told Pryce that I ‘swung both ways’. Along with realisation came a blush I could feel spreading over my neck and shoulders and that I prayed Pryce wouldn’t notice. True, he hadn’t taken the news badly, nor had he been hostile. He had seemed a merely little cautious, though considering I’d just fired him, that was hardly surprising. Still, I didn’t want him to think I was some kind of exhibitionist who took joy in airily stripping off in front of every pretty lad that crossed my path.
“You don’t have to stay, Pryce,” I said a little awkwardly.
Pryce was folding my waistcoat over his arm along with the socks and tie and sad looking jacket.
“Sir?”
“I don’t want you to feel obliged, that’s all, not if it makes you uncomfortable. I saw you looked a little shocked when I said what I did.”
“I’m not sure I-” He stopped and the proverbial light went on behind the eyes. “Ah, I see, sir. No, sir, that really is not an issue.” He looked a gnat’s hair away from letting one corner of his mouth quirk upwards. “If I may speak frankly, sir?”
Fat chance, I thought. “Always.”
“I must admit that it was not the confirmations of my suspicions that shocked me, sir. More that you had voluntarily told me when you had no guarantee that I would not simply walk out and report you to the local constabulary.”
“Oh, I never thought that you- Wait, what do you mean ‘suspicions’?”
“Merely wondered, sir. You clearly have a very close friendship with Master Davis, but at times there were signs of what might have been part of a greater attachment.”
“Me and Will!” I sat bolt upright. “Oh no, no, no! Well, I mean, yes, but that was just once and very long ago and we were incredibly drunk and-”
“Yes, sir,” Pryce interrupted smoothly. “If I might mention it, sir, the waters will be starting to cool.”
The thought of sinking into a lukewarm bath sent me hurriedly relocating into the bathroom. The air was warm and wonderfully thick with fragrant clouds of steam. The duck was gone from his perch on the sink. He sat proudly next to the soap and a wooden handled back bath brush and a fluffy white flannel. They in turn were all ringed around the frankly heavenly looking pool of slightly misted water whence issued both steam and scent of bath salts. My right toe, that being the first part of me to go in, sent the message that the temperature was just right; a sharp sting of heat that quickly gave way to a snug glow.
I stretched out, almost utterly content, the water lapping nicely around the shoulders.
A slight draught and then the sound of activity around the towel area suggested Pryce had re-entered the room.
I opened one eye and sure enough, there was that black upright figure rearranging the towels. He seemed utterly at ease with being in the room while I was in the bath so it seemed rude to make a fuss about it. Still, I swiftly rearranged my position so that a little privacy was maintained.
“Where did you come by these trousers, sir?” Pryce had picked them up from the floor.
“Will got them from some tailor-guy down in some street-or-other.”
Pryce shot me a look.
“Most illuminating, sir.”
“Why, is there something wrong with them?”
“No, sir. In fact I ask because they are of exceptionally high quality. I would have liked to have been able to take a note of the gentleman responsible.”
“Oh,” I felt unusually pleased with this speck of praise. Deciding that I might as well follow Pryce’s example and go about business as usual, I reached for the wooden handle of the back brush. But as soon as I tried to go through the motions of hauling the thing over my shoulder, my ribs sharply reminded me that they were taking the evening off.
As soon as the stars had cleared, I realised that Pryce had silently put himself once more right by my side.
He held out his hand.
“If you would permit, sir? It would prevent causing any further discomfort and possible damage.”
I clutched the brush to me.
“You don’t have to,” I said, trying to keep my voice as even as possible given the circumstances. “Honestly, I don’t want you to think that-”
Pryce again gave me that hint of a smile.
“Sir, I trust in your integrity, I would not offer if I seriously thought you entertained notions of exploiting the relationship between employer and valet. However if my actions are making you uncomfortable then-”
“No,” I said instantly, lying through my teeth in order to not hurt his feelings. “I mean, I’m new to this whole having a valet thing and, well, it takes some getting used to.”
He took the brush from my hand and vanished from sight.
“I can understand that, sir.”
I pulled my knees a little tighter towards me and used them as a prop for my arms and chin. This day was rapidly soaring to that prized position as one of the most memorable days of my life. Whether it would be as the worst or best remained to be decided, though at that time the former seemed in pole position. I sat, no, huddled there, knowing what was coming. And sure enough, the first firm glide of the brush over the back, hesitated for a fraction.
“It’s an old one,” I said quietly.
I knew what he was seeing, I’d been careful to keep the sight from him beforehand when removing the clothes.
It was an old scar, but quite dramatic I suppose when you’re seeing it for the first time. Because it’s on the back, I’ve never seen it myself. The odd glimpse in the mirror perhaps, but nothing more. A delicate gash, thin and clear. Pale skin all puckered upwards like a tiny mountain range. It started low down, then rose and peaked in the small of my back, before sinking and smoothing out into the dip of the spine.
Just the one. But still enough to cause remark. Had caused remarks many times.
Pryce resumed his task with a simple ‘Very good, sir’. He wasn’t overly gentle; the battered patches twinging a small protest as he efficiently rubbed the soap over them. Still, in some ways, it was almost relaxing. The bristles sweeping in tingling circles and curves.
“Courtesy of my father,” I continued, answering the question most people would have asked. “Just the once. He was drunk; used the wrong end of the belt.”
“You don’t have to tell me this, sir.”
“I know.” I reached out and balanced the duck on my knees. It wobbled slightly, then settled. “But it saves wondering later on. Besides, it really was just the once. Gave him a shock. He never touched the bottle again and afterwards began on with this ‘you must live a virtuous life’ lifestyle. Right regular at the local church, he was.”
“A complicated situation for you, sir.”
“Yes, at the time it was.”
The pressure lifted off my back and Pryce appeared once more in my line of vision. He held out the brush, wooden handle first. I was a little rattled so I took the thing off of him rather quickly. His fingers were icy cold in comparison with the warmth of the bathtub, so I couldn’t help it if a slight snap went through the veins when I accidentally caught the tips of them under my palm.
“Dinner at seven thirty, sir,” he reminded me, cool as you like. Then he gathered up the clothing in one graceful sweep of the arm, and vanished through the door.
“Don’t say anything,” I muttered to the duck. It obediently shut up.
Next part here.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-04-17 04:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-14 06:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-17 04:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-14 06:53 pm (UTC)Loving this!
no subject
Date: 2005-04-17 04:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-14 07:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-17 04:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-17 04:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-15 12:49 am (UTC)This slow crawl towards intimacy is terribly sweet and that bath scene is hilarious/sad and just a whisper of very hot. And it's nice to see the duck knows when to be quiet...
*sigh* What a treat.....
no subject
Date: 2005-04-17 04:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-15 06:44 am (UTC)Trust Liam and Will to have been intimate once whilst drunk a long time ago ;) Are you sure Liam doesn't have a preoccupation with the duck?
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Date: 2005-04-17 04:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-16 11:48 am (UTC)And go Wes for hitting Hamilton!
::Showers fic with lurve::
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Date: 2005-04-17 04:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-16 05:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-17 04:50 pm (UTC)