Fic: A Fish Out Of Water - part 10
Apr. 25th, 2005 12:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lonelybritRight ho, well this is the penultimate chapter. *eyes it* Stuff happens. This is my indulgence fic, so anything goes really, so long as it pleases me, likelihood/reason be stuffed! :) ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eloise_bright, bless her, beta-ed this wonderfully despite being all with the flu. *huggles her* Thank you, sweetie. Previous parts can be found here.
Chapter Ten:
Looking back, I suppose it was my fault. I knew what the polite and therefore right thing to do was; it was just I didn’t particularly want to do it. I was curious. And yes, I know what that trait did to the cat. But a cat has nine lives so I’m sure it thought it worth it in the long run.
Anyway, I came into the hallway, leaving Will in the office to ‘bask’, to try and track down Pryce. The instant breeze that greeted me suggested that the front door had been left open, and sure enough when I looked, it stood ajar. Through it came the sounds of people preparing to leave. As I didn’t particularly want to see either MacDonald or Manners this soon after successfully pulling the carpet out from under them, I darted across the open space to the shadow of the parlour doorway. It was one of the deep doorways with a heavy lintel, a bit like an old church archway except it was square at the top and had a door in it.
Anyway, there I was. Pressed to door, trying not to be seen… And of course, voices came drifting through that portal as well. Two of them, coming from within the parlour itself.
“Look, like I said, don’t get the wrong idea. I probably wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t had the last minute escape route.”
“Am I supposed to be feeling grateful, Robert?”
There was a chuckle.
“You know you are. You’ve got that smile thing going, and your eyes are kind of squinty.”
“My eyes are not squinty.”
“Fine, they’re not squinty. Anyway, is that really what we’re discussing?”
I was frozen in the doorway. Rock and a hard place. That was me. Stuck where I really didn’t want to be. On the one side; a wounded and disappointed Wolfram and Hart league. On the other; Knox and Pryce in what sounded like a horribly chummy chat. From the start their voices had been unusually clear, and by the end of this first exchange I had found the cause: the door wasn’t closed properly, pushed to, but not actually shut. It seemed to me like everyone in this household was unfairly careless when it came to protecting the innocent passer-by from accidentally becoming an unwilling eavesdropper.
As I considered the choices before me, to enter or to go away, the conversation resumed.
“I meant what I said, Wes. I do like them. They’re utterly corrupt and a complete den of crooks and totally deserve what’s coming to them, but they’ve been good to me. I’m not sticking around after this.”
“Thank you.”
“Well, doesn’t that make me feel loved.”
“I meant, thank you for telling me anyway.”
I could feel Knox blush even several feet and one oak door away.
“Don’t read too much into it, Wes. Really.”
There was a nasty silence. Nasty for me, I mean. I couldn’t see what was happening, but it sounded profound.
“Anyway, you know what they say about treading gently round sleeping dogs. That it’s usually best not to prod them, just let it lie. Right?”
“I’ve heard it can work wonders,” and Pryce sounded a little quiet.
“I meant it about Miss Burkle too. I do love her, Wes.”
“So you’ve said at least twice.” The grin made the words warm. I really knew I was eavesdropping then. Listening to my normally marble-faced valet smile. It felt like the walking in and seeing a lady before she’s had the chance to apply her make-up. Something I knew I wasn’t meant to see. Or hear, in this case.
“Well, just so long as we both agree on that. Because I also believe in laying ghosts to rest sometimes, too.”
“I see nothing wrong with that strategy. I think.”
“Good. So don’t read too much into this.”
“Into what-”
At that moment came the unmistakable sound of footsteps climbing up the stone steps. A shadow fell across the hall.
I didn’t particularly want to be caught listening at the keyhole – Greylings gave the impression of wanting only one good reason to throw me out on my ear - so I made a snap decision and decided to brave breaking up the reunion. The door was already ajar, so it took just one silent push and slip, and I was out of harm’s way.
The parlour room stood as I remembered. Nice wallpaper. Slightly hard looking seats. Clean mantelpiece. And, in two new additions, one floppy haired American kissing one well-dressed valet. These exhibits taking prime place in the centre of the room.
I gaped.
To be clear, it was definitely the American who was kissing the valet. And when I say the valet, we are talking about my valet. An American kissing my valet. One of those gentle looking kisses that I imagine grace the inside of women’s handkerchief-inducing novels. The valet himself looked as if he’d been taken by surprise, although the lack of tension about the shoulders, a movement of his hand to cover the other’s and distinct absence of other signs – such as a hard left hook - suggested he was not utterly opposed to the idea.
“Ur.”
Pryce’s head snapped round and he stared at me with a face that went from utterly bloodless to having a swift blush flood the cheeks and neck. Probably would have been quite endearing in different circumstances.
“Sir!”
“Ah.” Knox drew back and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Liam, didn’t hear you come in.”
“Manners and that MacDonald have left, I think,” I offered, my voice a little faint and more than a tad cool. “Do you have plans to get back or do you need a lift?”
The two men exchanged a quick look.
“Sir-”
“Liam-”
“And for Gods sake stop looking at me like I’m the bogey man.” I swallowed and tried the normal speech thing again. “It’s fine, all right, let’s leave it at that.”
“Look, it’s going to sound horribly clichéd but it really wasn’t what you think,” Knox said with a quick hopeful flash of a smile. “It’s just… I’m moving to America. Pretty much right away, first boat and I’m out of here.”
“Oh.”
“Mr Knox has been offered a teaching position at a private school in California, sir. He received official confirmation of his application having been accepted just this morning.”
A small bulb went off in the brain.
“The telegram Greylings came in about?” I guessed.
Knox relaxed slightly, the way you do when you know you know the answer. His hands still in his pockets, he shrugged.
“It’s all been rather rushed. I only found out about the vacancy a few weeks ago, and since then… It’s been insane. I really need this job. Just one of those things you have to do, you know? And I’m definitely going, no way I’m turning them down, but I wanted to… Well, me and Wes just needed to talk a few things out. It’s been a while since we’ve had the chance to do that.” He flashed another tentative but more long-lived grin.
I stared back at him, cool and aloof. If it bugged me that I knew there were unsaid things floating about us that were going straight over my head, I wasn’t going to let on.
“I thought Wolfram and Hart were good to you,” I said cuttingly, using his own words. I was feeling oddly put out, that empty feeling you get when you’re happily trotting up some stairs, put one foot down, and there’s no step to greet you, only an unexpected empty space. I couldn’t exactly say what made me more tetchy; actually feeling wrong footed, or not quite knowing why I was feeling that way in the first place. But step or no step, I was quite certain that I would feel no guilt in blaming Knox completely for it. “Sir Holland’s a big name isn’t he? I’m sure he could wangle you a job somewhere if you needed it that badly.”
“Oh, I’ve already got that; I’m chief chemical researcher at SQUIRT London,” Knox replied, waving away what must surely be most scientists’ ultimate dream with another casual shrug. “No, I need the California one to get married.”
As I considered the logic of this, I felt Pryce’s eyes on me. It struck me that I had yet to actually look at him. And unless you really are pond scum, you can’t snub a man outright without a good concrete reason, and since I couldn’t think of one at the moment, I shot him a quick answering look. It didn’t help much. I looked at him. He looked at me. His face remained perfectly unreadable in a way that would surely have impressed even Greylings, and I, I hope, retained the cool detachment of Drake faced with the Armada. It lasted for one blink, and then we returned our attention to Knox, he of the unfathomable matrimonial reasoning.
“Right,” I said flatly.
“The headmistress of the school in question, sir, is a Miss Winifred Burkle,” Pryce said, with the prompting air of someone trying to hand you a lifeline. “She recently visited England for a conference on the future role of science for the younger generation.”
I still floundered, and then the line went taut.
“Oh. Miss Burkle.”
“Yes, sir.”
I looked more closely at Knox who blushed and hunched a little and examined his shoes.
Something loosened in the pit of the stomach. “Oh, so that’s the way it goes then.”
“Yes, sir.”
“He’s going to America.”
“Yes, sir.”
It still didn’t explain much when I looked at it, but at least it ruled out certain things that might have been happening in the near future otherwise. I felt oddly relieved and patted Knox on the shoulder in a bracing manner.
“Well, have at it,” I said heartily. “I’m sure she’s a lovely lass-”
“Oh, she’s a goddess amongst women, Liam,” Knox interrupted dreamily; his eyes glazed over with the usual Grade A look of Helpless Devotion. “Slender like a willow, eyes so soft that make you feel like you’re the only man in the world…”
“Yes,” I continued firmly, “well, I really do wish you the best of luck.”
“So kind, voice like a-”
“Right.” I hesitated. I knew I was going to regret this, and I knew it wasn’t really fair, but I can be a selfish bastard sometimes. “So, was there any particular reason you were kissing my valet just now?”
“What? That? Oh,” Knox’s eyes refocused on the present. His gaze went behind me and his lips quirked again in a smile that was aimed solely at Pryce. “Just laying a few ghosts to rest, so we know where we stand. Least now we can say we’ve been there, done that, and all that jazz.”
Pryce, when I turned to look at him, simply gave me that polite and utterly unreadable look.
“You have anything to say for yourself, Pryce?”
“Sir?”
“So that’s a no. Fine, fine, whatever.” I returned my attention to Knox. Who was picking up a discarded jacket from a nearby chair. He checked his watch just as I opened my mouth.
“Well, look at that. I’m going to have to dash if I want to catch the midday train.”
He strode forward and clasped Pryce’s hand between his two.
“Someday we’ll have to meet up and talk about this properly. But until then… it’s been nice. Keep in touch this time. Or else.”
“Yes, Mr Knox.”
“And don’t think you’re fooling anyone with that nice polite act. I can still read you like a book, you know.”
“As you say, sir.”
Knox gave a mock despairing sigh.
“Honestly, the staff these days.” He grinned at me again, but this close and I could see that the smile didn’t exactly go all the way. Stopped just short of the eyes. “Well, it’s been nice meeting you, maybe see you again sometime.”
With that, he left. Just like that. I was left with the sense that I’d missed the point somehow. The silence threatened to solidify, so I forced myself to make a move.
“I think,” I began slowly, “unless Will needs us, that now would be a good time to go home.”
“Very good, sir.” Pryce’s face suddenly had a strained quality to it, just the smallest hint of tension around the mouth and eyes. It was like he’d run out of energy to keep the mask up now the fat lady had sung.
I took a few steps towards the large window overlooking the driveway. Knox was just slamming the door of his car shut. He looked, from a distance anyway, so utterly harmless. His face soft, hair still with a slight shine to it, a more unthreatening human would be hard to imagine. Which only went to show how much you should never ever judge by appearances.
The gunning of the engine echoed off the front of the house. I returned to stand by Pryce. We both listened to the sound of wheels crunching over gravel, the uneven rumble of the vehicle fading away unseen down the long drive.
“When we get back,” I said, straightening my tie so I had an excuse to concentrate on something other than Pryce’s expression, “would there be any point in me asking you about your history with Knox?”
Pryce considered this for a moment.
“Would it save you having to go to the trouble of firing and then rehiring me, sir?”
“Well, I can just let the matter drop if you really want.” I dusted down my shoulders for no particular reason, keeping my tone nonchalant.
By then, I’d managed to put a name to the feeling that was wriggling itself under my skin. I was feeling a little hurt. Maybe some people would have taken it in their stride, but I wasn’t one of them. The fact was I’d trusted Pryce with a simple but volatile fact that could send me up before a judge, and he’d greeted it with apparent kind open-mindedness and a little sob tale of his own. We’d talked together. We’d shared memories and shared brandy by the fire. I thought we’d taken the first preliminary steps towards a decent friendship. And yet, even when I was apologising for maybe making him feel awkward, he’d never thought it might be nice to say, ‘Actually, you know what, I’m in the same boat.’ I guess he’d decided the trust between us still didn’t quite stretch that far.
“I’m sorry if I’ve hurt your feelings, sir.”
“What?” I blinked, snapping myself out of my reverie.
“You were looking rather put out, sir.”
“Really. Well, never mind. I want to get home. I feel in need of a drink.”
“Very good, sir. I shall go and bring the car round to the front.”
He vanished and I moodily stalked out to wait at the top of the broad stone staircase that swept down to the drive. It was depressing to think that the rest of the day still stretched before me, it wasn’t even lunchtime yet.
“Cheer up, it may never happen.”
Will appeared at my side, his face still aglow with the glow of the incredibly smug. He gazed at the horizon with a contented smirk, as if he could still see Manners and his spawn driving away with their tails between their legs.
“Just think, we have the whole day to bask in this,” he continued, half dislocating my shoulder with a friendly knock. “A whole day, Liam!”
“Wonderful.”
He frowned at me.
“What’s up? You look as sick as a parrot.”
“Nothing.”
“You do realise you’re pouting.”
“I am not!” I retorted indignantly, drawing myself up. I had in fact been brooding, a careful and pensive set to my jaw. It stung that Will couldn’t see that. “I do not pout.”
He cocked one eyebrow at me with measured scorn.
“Of course you don’t.”
I snarled half-heartedly at him.
“So, come on, spill the beans. You know you will in the end.”
“Go bury yourself in a pit.”
“I’m waiting; I can wait all day you know.”
I gave in.
“Pryce,” I muttered, aiming a kick at a tiny pebble that had somehow found itself estranged from its fellows.
Will seemed unimpressed. “And?”
“Knox.”
“Right.”
“Stuff happened.”
“You realise you’re being incredibly unhelpful here?”
“Knox kissed Pryce.”
“Really?” Will gave a chuckle of delighted surprise. “Well I never! Who would have thought-” He caught sight of my face and hastily wiped the smile. “Of course, it must be terrible for you. After all, you have known Pryce for all of, what, twenty-four hours?”
“Get stuffed.”
“No, really, Liam.” Will heaved a sigh and gave my shoulder a comforting pat. “I’m sorry if it makes you feel a little blue.” He perked up again. “Tell you what, why don’t we go for a ride?”
My mind was still mulling over the morning’s activities and untold histories, so it took a moment for me to understand just what Will was driving at.
“Is there a fair round here?”
“No, idiot. Horses. Uncle Eddy said I could use his if I want. Apparently they always like the extra exercise.” Will bounced encouragingly on his heels, doing a rather interesting impersonation of what he thought entailed riding a horse. “Come on, it’ll be fun! Stables aren’t far. Tearing over fields, leaping over hedges, stopping by The Smattered Trout for a bite to eat and drink.”
It did sound tempting when he put it like that. Though recently I’d spent most waking hours in the bustling the city, I was fond of a bit of country air and brisk frolic in the fields. Experience did point to there being nothing quite so effective at blowing away the cobwebs as a good hard hike or ride. Besides, wallowing was never a healthy thing to be doing
“You’re on,” I said decisively, and at once I felt a little better.
There was an approaching rumble and then the car appeared round the corner of the house, Pryce hidden behind the wheel.
“Just give me an hour to get home and change,” I said quickly, starting down the steps, “and I’ll meet you back here.”
“Of course you will,” Will sighed, looking at me for some reason with a slight smile and shake of the head. He sounded oddly dismissive. He really could be very strange sometimes.
*~*~*~*
“What about this one?”
“No, sir.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
Pryce eyed the shirt I was holding up with a critical eye.
“A fine shirt, sir, but a little too heavy and tight about the arms if you are planning an easy ride.”
“Well, what one should I wear then?”
Pryce put down the tray he had collected from the sitting room. The glasses tinkled and sloshed delicately as they hit the table. He still looked a little tired and I found I hadn’t the heart to bring up the subject of Knox. I told myself I was waiting for the right moment.
“Excuse me, sir.” Pryce gently edged past me and stood thoughtfully surveying the contents of the wardrobe. His hands went out and began carefully plucking a shirt from here, opening a drawer there, lifting a light blazer down from the shelf.
I decided to leave him to it, and moved my attentions from to the set-up on the tray. There were the usual tumblers and mixers, and I easily poured myself a healthy portion. The first gulp gave that pleasant burn along the throat and buzz to the mind that really wakes a soul up.
“I think this would suffice, sir,” Pryce began from somewhere behind me.
At around this point, the most almighty explosion of bird chatter came from outside my window. It sounded angry and heated, and without doubt the two birds in question were doing the feathered equivalent of demanding pistols at dawn. Ever the curious creature, I instinctively backed up a few paces, twisting at the waist to get a clear view of the leafy battlefield beyond the glass panes.
The problem was that at the same instant as I shifted backwards, Pryce had been coming forwards to show me his chosen outfit. In the resulting brief seconds of confusion the whiskey sloshed onto the carpet, and my elbow made a passing encounter with Pryce’s back. It was hardly a hard knock, but the results were rather alarming. Pryce instantly went white as a sheet, made that funny hissing short intake of breath that usually means something’s been stifled, and half dropped the shoes he’d been carrying.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Pryce.”
“Quite alright, sir, I should have looked where I was going.”
“You weren’t the one walking backwards,” I pointed out. I watched for a second longer. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Perfectly, sir.” Pryce’s lips looked a little thin. He seemed to be holding himself very carefully, and he hadn’t moved much. “As I was saying earlier, sir-”
“Is something wrong?”
“Sir?”
“Here, take this.” I held out the glass.
“It’s very kind-”
“Nonsense, take the glass.”
He did, and this time I caught the smallest wince as he engaged the upper body.
“Right,” I said briskly, taking the glass off him and refilling it. “Where’d he get you?”
“Sir?” But he sounded less convincing than the first time, the polite tone sounding decidedly thin. It had been a long day already for all of us, I suppose.
“I know I’m still sore in places,” I said cheerfully, handing back the glass. He took it and I watched the way he moved. “Hamilton packs a mean punch.”
Pryce caved, and a small muscle twitched in the left corner of his mouth.
“Indeed, sir.”
“Right, and remember how long it took me to get all my bruises sorted out. And you know it’s when you wake up the next morning that you really feel how bad they are. As far as I’m aware you’ve been working non-stop since yesterday. Still, better late than never. Let’s take a look.”
Pryce stared and blinked at me.
“Pryce,” I repeated firmly, trying to sound both stern and caring at the same time, “you’re my valet. I’d just like to check you aren’t about to fall to pieces or die from excessive bleeding.”
“Highly unlikely, sir.”
“Pryce.”
He appeared to be about to say something, and then think the better of it.
“I’m not going to jump you,” I added quietly. “It’s not about that. I’m just concerned, is that all right?”
He stared at me a moment longer, his eyes a little puzzled. I couldn’t tell whether it was the fact I was concerned or that he didn’t understand what I was blithering on about that earned the look, but there it was. Finally he took a sip of his drink, set the glass down, and obediently began slipping off his jacket. I set my own drink down and came over.
The bruises, when they finally came into view, were, to put it mildly, colourful. On the bright side, there weren’t that many of them. On the less sunny side, the ones that were there looked like they were determined to make themselves hard to forget. The main one, the one I must have hit with my elbow, was a vivid bloom on the lower back. A dark welling of battered skin that marked the general area of the kidneys. Hamilton may not have got many blows in, but the few he had done had been painfully well placed.
“Ouch,” I said sympathetically.
Pryce merely did that shrug thing he can do using just the tiniest lift of the eyebrows.
“Hold still,” I continued. I proceeded to do the usual quick check for any broken ribs and the like. To my relief everything seemed in working order, just very very delicate in places. Pryce did start a little at the first touch, but, to be fair, my fingers were rather cool, and I hadn’t given him much warning. I stuffed my hands in my pockets when I finally drew back, thoughtfully biting the lower lip.
“Well, you seem to be in one piece.”
“Yes, sir.”
“But those are going to be sore for a while.”
“It is to be expected, sir.”
“Still, I might be able to help a little.”
“Sir?”
I gave a shrug and sheepish grin.
“I was a bit of a wild child, Pryce, back in the day. Always getting some knocks or bruises.” My mind’s eye was sternly contemplating things other than the view currently on offer. It dredged up a passing memory of the garden out back, helpfully pointing out the corner of dark green leaves and purple flowers. “My grandmother used to make this poultice thing, knitbone or something like that. Give her a kettle and a few minutes, and she’d be ready to try and patch together even the leftovers of a brawl with the innkeeper’s boy. No idea how it worked, but it always did. I’ll go make one.”
I fled.
Next part here.
eloise_bright, bless her, beta-ed this wonderfully despite being all with the flu. *huggles her* Thank you, sweetie. Previous parts can be found here.Chapter Ten:
Looking back, I suppose it was my fault. I knew what the polite and therefore right thing to do was; it was just I didn’t particularly want to do it. I was curious. And yes, I know what that trait did to the cat. But a cat has nine lives so I’m sure it thought it worth it in the long run.
Anyway, I came into the hallway, leaving Will in the office to ‘bask’, to try and track down Pryce. The instant breeze that greeted me suggested that the front door had been left open, and sure enough when I looked, it stood ajar. Through it came the sounds of people preparing to leave. As I didn’t particularly want to see either MacDonald or Manners this soon after successfully pulling the carpet out from under them, I darted across the open space to the shadow of the parlour doorway. It was one of the deep doorways with a heavy lintel, a bit like an old church archway except it was square at the top and had a door in it.
Anyway, there I was. Pressed to door, trying not to be seen… And of course, voices came drifting through that portal as well. Two of them, coming from within the parlour itself.
“Look, like I said, don’t get the wrong idea. I probably wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t had the last minute escape route.”
“Am I supposed to be feeling grateful, Robert?”
There was a chuckle.
“You know you are. You’ve got that smile thing going, and your eyes are kind of squinty.”
“My eyes are not squinty.”
“Fine, they’re not squinty. Anyway, is that really what we’re discussing?”
I was frozen in the doorway. Rock and a hard place. That was me. Stuck where I really didn’t want to be. On the one side; a wounded and disappointed Wolfram and Hart league. On the other; Knox and Pryce in what sounded like a horribly chummy chat. From the start their voices had been unusually clear, and by the end of this first exchange I had found the cause: the door wasn’t closed properly, pushed to, but not actually shut. It seemed to me like everyone in this household was unfairly careless when it came to protecting the innocent passer-by from accidentally becoming an unwilling eavesdropper.
As I considered the choices before me, to enter or to go away, the conversation resumed.
“I meant what I said, Wes. I do like them. They’re utterly corrupt and a complete den of crooks and totally deserve what’s coming to them, but they’ve been good to me. I’m not sticking around after this.”
“Thank you.”
“Well, doesn’t that make me feel loved.”
“I meant, thank you for telling me anyway.”
I could feel Knox blush even several feet and one oak door away.
“Don’t read too much into it, Wes. Really.”
There was a nasty silence. Nasty for me, I mean. I couldn’t see what was happening, but it sounded profound.
“Anyway, you know what they say about treading gently round sleeping dogs. That it’s usually best not to prod them, just let it lie. Right?”
“I’ve heard it can work wonders,” and Pryce sounded a little quiet.
“I meant it about Miss Burkle too. I do love her, Wes.”
“So you’ve said at least twice.” The grin made the words warm. I really knew I was eavesdropping then. Listening to my normally marble-faced valet smile. It felt like the walking in and seeing a lady before she’s had the chance to apply her make-up. Something I knew I wasn’t meant to see. Or hear, in this case.
“Well, just so long as we both agree on that. Because I also believe in laying ghosts to rest sometimes, too.”
“I see nothing wrong with that strategy. I think.”
“Good. So don’t read too much into this.”
“Into what-”
At that moment came the unmistakable sound of footsteps climbing up the stone steps. A shadow fell across the hall.
I didn’t particularly want to be caught listening at the keyhole – Greylings gave the impression of wanting only one good reason to throw me out on my ear - so I made a snap decision and decided to brave breaking up the reunion. The door was already ajar, so it took just one silent push and slip, and I was out of harm’s way.
The parlour room stood as I remembered. Nice wallpaper. Slightly hard looking seats. Clean mantelpiece. And, in two new additions, one floppy haired American kissing one well-dressed valet. These exhibits taking prime place in the centre of the room.
I gaped.
To be clear, it was definitely the American who was kissing the valet. And when I say the valet, we are talking about my valet. An American kissing my valet. One of those gentle looking kisses that I imagine grace the inside of women’s handkerchief-inducing novels. The valet himself looked as if he’d been taken by surprise, although the lack of tension about the shoulders, a movement of his hand to cover the other’s and distinct absence of other signs – such as a hard left hook - suggested he was not utterly opposed to the idea.
“Ur.”
Pryce’s head snapped round and he stared at me with a face that went from utterly bloodless to having a swift blush flood the cheeks and neck. Probably would have been quite endearing in different circumstances.
“Sir!”
“Ah.” Knox drew back and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Liam, didn’t hear you come in.”
“Manners and that MacDonald have left, I think,” I offered, my voice a little faint and more than a tad cool. “Do you have plans to get back or do you need a lift?”
The two men exchanged a quick look.
“Sir-”
“Liam-”
“And for Gods sake stop looking at me like I’m the bogey man.” I swallowed and tried the normal speech thing again. “It’s fine, all right, let’s leave it at that.”
“Look, it’s going to sound horribly clichéd but it really wasn’t what you think,” Knox said with a quick hopeful flash of a smile. “It’s just… I’m moving to America. Pretty much right away, first boat and I’m out of here.”
“Oh.”
“Mr Knox has been offered a teaching position at a private school in California, sir. He received official confirmation of his application having been accepted just this morning.”
A small bulb went off in the brain.
“The telegram Greylings came in about?” I guessed.
Knox relaxed slightly, the way you do when you know you know the answer. His hands still in his pockets, he shrugged.
“It’s all been rather rushed. I only found out about the vacancy a few weeks ago, and since then… It’s been insane. I really need this job. Just one of those things you have to do, you know? And I’m definitely going, no way I’m turning them down, but I wanted to… Well, me and Wes just needed to talk a few things out. It’s been a while since we’ve had the chance to do that.” He flashed another tentative but more long-lived grin.
I stared back at him, cool and aloof. If it bugged me that I knew there were unsaid things floating about us that were going straight over my head, I wasn’t going to let on.
“I thought Wolfram and Hart were good to you,” I said cuttingly, using his own words. I was feeling oddly put out, that empty feeling you get when you’re happily trotting up some stairs, put one foot down, and there’s no step to greet you, only an unexpected empty space. I couldn’t exactly say what made me more tetchy; actually feeling wrong footed, or not quite knowing why I was feeling that way in the first place. But step or no step, I was quite certain that I would feel no guilt in blaming Knox completely for it. “Sir Holland’s a big name isn’t he? I’m sure he could wangle you a job somewhere if you needed it that badly.”
“Oh, I’ve already got that; I’m chief chemical researcher at SQUIRT London,” Knox replied, waving away what must surely be most scientists’ ultimate dream with another casual shrug. “No, I need the California one to get married.”
As I considered the logic of this, I felt Pryce’s eyes on me. It struck me that I had yet to actually look at him. And unless you really are pond scum, you can’t snub a man outright without a good concrete reason, and since I couldn’t think of one at the moment, I shot him a quick answering look. It didn’t help much. I looked at him. He looked at me. His face remained perfectly unreadable in a way that would surely have impressed even Greylings, and I, I hope, retained the cool detachment of Drake faced with the Armada. It lasted for one blink, and then we returned our attention to Knox, he of the unfathomable matrimonial reasoning.
“Right,” I said flatly.
“The headmistress of the school in question, sir, is a Miss Winifred Burkle,” Pryce said, with the prompting air of someone trying to hand you a lifeline. “She recently visited England for a conference on the future role of science for the younger generation.”
I still floundered, and then the line went taut.
“Oh. Miss Burkle.”
“Yes, sir.”
I looked more closely at Knox who blushed and hunched a little and examined his shoes.
Something loosened in the pit of the stomach. “Oh, so that’s the way it goes then.”
“Yes, sir.”
“He’s going to America.”
“Yes, sir.”
It still didn’t explain much when I looked at it, but at least it ruled out certain things that might have been happening in the near future otherwise. I felt oddly relieved and patted Knox on the shoulder in a bracing manner.
“Well, have at it,” I said heartily. “I’m sure she’s a lovely lass-”
“Oh, she’s a goddess amongst women, Liam,” Knox interrupted dreamily; his eyes glazed over with the usual Grade A look of Helpless Devotion. “Slender like a willow, eyes so soft that make you feel like you’re the only man in the world…”
“Yes,” I continued firmly, “well, I really do wish you the best of luck.”
“So kind, voice like a-”
“Right.” I hesitated. I knew I was going to regret this, and I knew it wasn’t really fair, but I can be a selfish bastard sometimes. “So, was there any particular reason you were kissing my valet just now?”
“What? That? Oh,” Knox’s eyes refocused on the present. His gaze went behind me and his lips quirked again in a smile that was aimed solely at Pryce. “Just laying a few ghosts to rest, so we know where we stand. Least now we can say we’ve been there, done that, and all that jazz.”
Pryce, when I turned to look at him, simply gave me that polite and utterly unreadable look.
“You have anything to say for yourself, Pryce?”
“Sir?”
“So that’s a no. Fine, fine, whatever.” I returned my attention to Knox. Who was picking up a discarded jacket from a nearby chair. He checked his watch just as I opened my mouth.
“Well, look at that. I’m going to have to dash if I want to catch the midday train.”
He strode forward and clasped Pryce’s hand between his two.
“Someday we’ll have to meet up and talk about this properly. But until then… it’s been nice. Keep in touch this time. Or else.”
“Yes, Mr Knox.”
“And don’t think you’re fooling anyone with that nice polite act. I can still read you like a book, you know.”
“As you say, sir.”
Knox gave a mock despairing sigh.
“Honestly, the staff these days.” He grinned at me again, but this close and I could see that the smile didn’t exactly go all the way. Stopped just short of the eyes. “Well, it’s been nice meeting you, maybe see you again sometime.”
With that, he left. Just like that. I was left with the sense that I’d missed the point somehow. The silence threatened to solidify, so I forced myself to make a move.
“I think,” I began slowly, “unless Will needs us, that now would be a good time to go home.”
“Very good, sir.” Pryce’s face suddenly had a strained quality to it, just the smallest hint of tension around the mouth and eyes. It was like he’d run out of energy to keep the mask up now the fat lady had sung.
I took a few steps towards the large window overlooking the driveway. Knox was just slamming the door of his car shut. He looked, from a distance anyway, so utterly harmless. His face soft, hair still with a slight shine to it, a more unthreatening human would be hard to imagine. Which only went to show how much you should never ever judge by appearances.
The gunning of the engine echoed off the front of the house. I returned to stand by Pryce. We both listened to the sound of wheels crunching over gravel, the uneven rumble of the vehicle fading away unseen down the long drive.
“When we get back,” I said, straightening my tie so I had an excuse to concentrate on something other than Pryce’s expression, “would there be any point in me asking you about your history with Knox?”
Pryce considered this for a moment.
“Would it save you having to go to the trouble of firing and then rehiring me, sir?”
“Well, I can just let the matter drop if you really want.” I dusted down my shoulders for no particular reason, keeping my tone nonchalant.
By then, I’d managed to put a name to the feeling that was wriggling itself under my skin. I was feeling a little hurt. Maybe some people would have taken it in their stride, but I wasn’t one of them. The fact was I’d trusted Pryce with a simple but volatile fact that could send me up before a judge, and he’d greeted it with apparent kind open-mindedness and a little sob tale of his own. We’d talked together. We’d shared memories and shared brandy by the fire. I thought we’d taken the first preliminary steps towards a decent friendship. And yet, even when I was apologising for maybe making him feel awkward, he’d never thought it might be nice to say, ‘Actually, you know what, I’m in the same boat.’ I guess he’d decided the trust between us still didn’t quite stretch that far.
“I’m sorry if I’ve hurt your feelings, sir.”
“What?” I blinked, snapping myself out of my reverie.
“You were looking rather put out, sir.”
“Really. Well, never mind. I want to get home. I feel in need of a drink.”
“Very good, sir. I shall go and bring the car round to the front.”
He vanished and I moodily stalked out to wait at the top of the broad stone staircase that swept down to the drive. It was depressing to think that the rest of the day still stretched before me, it wasn’t even lunchtime yet.
“Cheer up, it may never happen.”
Will appeared at my side, his face still aglow with the glow of the incredibly smug. He gazed at the horizon with a contented smirk, as if he could still see Manners and his spawn driving away with their tails between their legs.
“Just think, we have the whole day to bask in this,” he continued, half dislocating my shoulder with a friendly knock. “A whole day, Liam!”
“Wonderful.”
He frowned at me.
“What’s up? You look as sick as a parrot.”
“Nothing.”
“You do realise you’re pouting.”
“I am not!” I retorted indignantly, drawing myself up. I had in fact been brooding, a careful and pensive set to my jaw. It stung that Will couldn’t see that. “I do not pout.”
He cocked one eyebrow at me with measured scorn.
“Of course you don’t.”
I snarled half-heartedly at him.
“So, come on, spill the beans. You know you will in the end.”
“Go bury yourself in a pit.”
“I’m waiting; I can wait all day you know.”
I gave in.
“Pryce,” I muttered, aiming a kick at a tiny pebble that had somehow found itself estranged from its fellows.
Will seemed unimpressed. “And?”
“Knox.”
“Right.”
“Stuff happened.”
“You realise you’re being incredibly unhelpful here?”
“Knox kissed Pryce.”
“Really?” Will gave a chuckle of delighted surprise. “Well I never! Who would have thought-” He caught sight of my face and hastily wiped the smile. “Of course, it must be terrible for you. After all, you have known Pryce for all of, what, twenty-four hours?”
“Get stuffed.”
“No, really, Liam.” Will heaved a sigh and gave my shoulder a comforting pat. “I’m sorry if it makes you feel a little blue.” He perked up again. “Tell you what, why don’t we go for a ride?”
My mind was still mulling over the morning’s activities and untold histories, so it took a moment for me to understand just what Will was driving at.
“Is there a fair round here?”
“No, idiot. Horses. Uncle Eddy said I could use his if I want. Apparently they always like the extra exercise.” Will bounced encouragingly on his heels, doing a rather interesting impersonation of what he thought entailed riding a horse. “Come on, it’ll be fun! Stables aren’t far. Tearing over fields, leaping over hedges, stopping by The Smattered Trout for a bite to eat and drink.”
It did sound tempting when he put it like that. Though recently I’d spent most waking hours in the bustling the city, I was fond of a bit of country air and brisk frolic in the fields. Experience did point to there being nothing quite so effective at blowing away the cobwebs as a good hard hike or ride. Besides, wallowing was never a healthy thing to be doing
“You’re on,” I said decisively, and at once I felt a little better.
There was an approaching rumble and then the car appeared round the corner of the house, Pryce hidden behind the wheel.
“Just give me an hour to get home and change,” I said quickly, starting down the steps, “and I’ll meet you back here.”
“Of course you will,” Will sighed, looking at me for some reason with a slight smile and shake of the head. He sounded oddly dismissive. He really could be very strange sometimes.
*~*~*~*
“What about this one?”
“No, sir.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
Pryce eyed the shirt I was holding up with a critical eye.
“A fine shirt, sir, but a little too heavy and tight about the arms if you are planning an easy ride.”
“Well, what one should I wear then?”
Pryce put down the tray he had collected from the sitting room. The glasses tinkled and sloshed delicately as they hit the table. He still looked a little tired and I found I hadn’t the heart to bring up the subject of Knox. I told myself I was waiting for the right moment.
“Excuse me, sir.” Pryce gently edged past me and stood thoughtfully surveying the contents of the wardrobe. His hands went out and began carefully plucking a shirt from here, opening a drawer there, lifting a light blazer down from the shelf.
I decided to leave him to it, and moved my attentions from to the set-up on the tray. There were the usual tumblers and mixers, and I easily poured myself a healthy portion. The first gulp gave that pleasant burn along the throat and buzz to the mind that really wakes a soul up.
“I think this would suffice, sir,” Pryce began from somewhere behind me.
At around this point, the most almighty explosion of bird chatter came from outside my window. It sounded angry and heated, and without doubt the two birds in question were doing the feathered equivalent of demanding pistols at dawn. Ever the curious creature, I instinctively backed up a few paces, twisting at the waist to get a clear view of the leafy battlefield beyond the glass panes.
The problem was that at the same instant as I shifted backwards, Pryce had been coming forwards to show me his chosen outfit. In the resulting brief seconds of confusion the whiskey sloshed onto the carpet, and my elbow made a passing encounter with Pryce’s back. It was hardly a hard knock, but the results were rather alarming. Pryce instantly went white as a sheet, made that funny hissing short intake of breath that usually means something’s been stifled, and half dropped the shoes he’d been carrying.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Pryce.”
“Quite alright, sir, I should have looked where I was going.”
“You weren’t the one walking backwards,” I pointed out. I watched for a second longer. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Perfectly, sir.” Pryce’s lips looked a little thin. He seemed to be holding himself very carefully, and he hadn’t moved much. “As I was saying earlier, sir-”
“Is something wrong?”
“Sir?”
“Here, take this.” I held out the glass.
“It’s very kind-”
“Nonsense, take the glass.”
He did, and this time I caught the smallest wince as he engaged the upper body.
“Right,” I said briskly, taking the glass off him and refilling it. “Where’d he get you?”
“Sir?” But he sounded less convincing than the first time, the polite tone sounding decidedly thin. It had been a long day already for all of us, I suppose.
“I know I’m still sore in places,” I said cheerfully, handing back the glass. He took it and I watched the way he moved. “Hamilton packs a mean punch.”
Pryce caved, and a small muscle twitched in the left corner of his mouth.
“Indeed, sir.”
“Right, and remember how long it took me to get all my bruises sorted out. And you know it’s when you wake up the next morning that you really feel how bad they are. As far as I’m aware you’ve been working non-stop since yesterday. Still, better late than never. Let’s take a look.”
Pryce stared and blinked at me.
“Pryce,” I repeated firmly, trying to sound both stern and caring at the same time, “you’re my valet. I’d just like to check you aren’t about to fall to pieces or die from excessive bleeding.”
“Highly unlikely, sir.”
“Pryce.”
He appeared to be about to say something, and then think the better of it.
“I’m not going to jump you,” I added quietly. “It’s not about that. I’m just concerned, is that all right?”
He stared at me a moment longer, his eyes a little puzzled. I couldn’t tell whether it was the fact I was concerned or that he didn’t understand what I was blithering on about that earned the look, but there it was. Finally he took a sip of his drink, set the glass down, and obediently began slipping off his jacket. I set my own drink down and came over.
The bruises, when they finally came into view, were, to put it mildly, colourful. On the bright side, there weren’t that many of them. On the less sunny side, the ones that were there looked like they were determined to make themselves hard to forget. The main one, the one I must have hit with my elbow, was a vivid bloom on the lower back. A dark welling of battered skin that marked the general area of the kidneys. Hamilton may not have got many blows in, but the few he had done had been painfully well placed.
“Ouch,” I said sympathetically.
Pryce merely did that shrug thing he can do using just the tiniest lift of the eyebrows.
“Hold still,” I continued. I proceeded to do the usual quick check for any broken ribs and the like. To my relief everything seemed in working order, just very very delicate in places. Pryce did start a little at the first touch, but, to be fair, my fingers were rather cool, and I hadn’t given him much warning. I stuffed my hands in my pockets when I finally drew back, thoughtfully biting the lower lip.
“Well, you seem to be in one piece.”
“Yes, sir.”
“But those are going to be sore for a while.”
“It is to be expected, sir.”
“Still, I might be able to help a little.”
“Sir?”
I gave a shrug and sheepish grin.
“I was a bit of a wild child, Pryce, back in the day. Always getting some knocks or bruises.” My mind’s eye was sternly contemplating things other than the view currently on offer. It dredged up a passing memory of the garden out back, helpfully pointing out the corner of dark green leaves and purple flowers. “My grandmother used to make this poultice thing, knitbone or something like that. Give her a kettle and a few minutes, and she’d be ready to try and patch together even the leftovers of a brawl with the innkeeper’s boy. No idea how it worked, but it always did. I’ll go make one.”
I fled.
Next part here.
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Date: 2005-04-24 04:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-26 04:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-24 04:43 pm (UTC)Once in a while you write a line that is a thing of beauty. It is perfection. It sums up the style of the whole story. THIS is one of those lines.
Such a wonderful chapter - my favourite so far - hmm wonder why - has it something to do with the fact that Pryce has his shirt off and is being touched by Liam *g*. I love Knox wiffling on about Miss Burkle, she of the
willow slenderness, the eyes and voice... pure PG Wodehouse.
And the exchange between Will and Liam - re pouting/brooding - was hilarious.
You do indeed have serious flaws in your structural integrity!
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Date: 2005-04-26 04:18 pm (UTC)I do have vague memories of us both happily discussing the shirt doffing scene, you were quite taking with the idea, as I recall... ;)
Will and Liam do make a great pair, they are such fun to write. Constantly poking fun at each other and putting the other in his place, but still somehow making it seem like caring, LOL! Part of me wants to keep on writing, just so I can see more of Will's reaction to Pryce. Ah well, that bunny can pasture for the moment. *nods*
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Date: 2005-04-24 06:33 pm (UTC)I'm enjoying being indulged by this fic too!
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Date: 2005-04-26 04:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-24 07:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-26 04:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-26 04:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-24 10:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-26 04:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-26 04:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-25 01:06 am (UTC)See you soon!!!
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Date: 2005-04-26 04:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-27 04:22 am (UTC)