by Jerry Cole
"Looking for anyone, dear?" Mrs. Elridge asked, seeing Theodore walking swiftly from room to room and peering in.
"I was wondering where our esteemed guest, Lord Thanet, may be," Theodore said, trying not to sound too desperate.
"He has left," Mrs. Elridge said with a smile and a slight shrug. "He is a very busy man."
Theodore's shoulders fell before he could stop them. "Of course, he is."
Chapter Eighteen
Edmond had not planned on leaving without saying farewell to Theodore. He had been stressed, confused, and a little angry, of course, but not so much as to leave on bad terms. He had looked for Theodore, but the tutor was nowhere to be found. Edmond had contemplated asking to see Theodore, even if he were working, but thought better of it. They were on thin ice already.
The walk went a long way toward clearing his mind. He gave himself time to think of an appropriate apology to Theodore. To think of a way of departing on good terms with everyone. He could not.
His own mind was a whirlwind of guilt and pain and anger and fear and melancholy. There was nothing positive he could dredge up. At least, nothing which had not already been dedicated to Theodore that morning. And, as he paced the length of the garden, he realized this.
It was a strange sensation, but he did not see why let his own pain and fears hurt a man who was above them. He did not want to take someone who was complete and strong and drag them down. Theodore still deserved an apology for Edmond's erratic and hostile attitude, but there was no way Edmond could phrase it without unleashing the chaos of his heart and soul onto Theodore.
Even a quiet farewell did not seem possible.
It hurt. It hurt to see that Theodore was so busy and happy with his life that a goodbye was not needed. It hurt to not be the center of attention. But it felt better than imposing himself on someone who was better off without him. It was bittersweet to realize that he could actually do so much to help and support someone, even if it meant removing himself from their life.
He had been a fool to assume that he could step into his role and become a leader of men, a true nobleman. His title did not mean all he had thought it would. Edmond had thought he would at least have that going for him. At least he would be liked and admired. He could not even manage that. He was trapped in an in-between that left him drained and frustrated.
Just important enough to be scrutinized, nowhere near important enough to be loved. His every action could be punished but never rewarded. So, he would leave and accept that all he had was some money and a title.
It was better than being some disgraced man, fallen from nobility, like Theodore was. At least that is what Edmond told himself. It was better to have wealth and no respect than none of either. It was better that he could step aside and hide in his home and not need fear for where his next meal may come from. Edmond didn’t have to humiliate himself if he did not let himself be seen.
But, in a way, he was jealous. Jealous of the fact that some people who were otherwise very much like himself did not share his shame and pains. Jealous of the ways in which they were different on so many levels. For all the comforts he could afford to purchase, he wished he could simply have a little human attention without it turning sour.
What use was it to be moral and noble and respected when one could never be loved? He'd rather just be human. Right now, he felt as though his only choice was between being a caged animal, alone in his house, comfortable but isolated; or a feral beast, hunted and tormented and perpetually scared. It was part of why he left that day, even without an apology and a farewell to Theodore. He could not stand a minute longer of being hunted down by the police of social norms.
The coach was slow and its old wood groaned as he made his way back to his quiet little coastal house, where he could continue pretending to be a decent nobleman. One could not make social faux pas if one were not social at all.
What is more, he needed someone to confide in. Someone to talk to about his emotions, albeit not his actions. He could not do that with anyone who he could not implicitly trust. He could not open his heart to anyone who has the power to judge him. Some men may turn to their parents in such situations, but that was obviously not an option to Edmond.
Mrs. Hubble was as close as he had ever known to a mother. She cared. She would not gossip about him to anyone. She was a perfect confidante.
He would say that he was losing his heart and his mind to someone he could not have, a woman of low birth or something of the likes. He would say that he felt that he could not be with her without hurting himself, that he felt as though he did not fit into high society in the first place, and this would further ruin it.
His worries eased as the carriage rushed through the countryside. His mind settled as he realized how easy it would be to live without these pressures, with someone who he could talk to.
Arriving home, he felt at peace. Not happy, not relieved. But secure, safe, at ease with himself. Isolation was not pleasant, but it was easy.
Chapter Nineteen
Theodore was hurt and confused by Edmond's sudden departure. Of course, they owed one another nothing. They were lovers, not equals. Theodore was a lowly man, and Edmond was noble. They were men, unable to wed. All they had done was just… what it was. It meant nothing, no more than exchanging some tobacco, no more than any other social interaction. It had happened, they had enjoyed it, and it was over.
It sapped the life out of him for a few days, though. He felt nearly hollow as he went through his daily tasks, always wondering what Edmond was thinking, doing, planning. Theodore had grown attached; he could not deny it. Were he a woman, he would be chasing Edmond, begging for a proposal, pleading for his lost innocence and his rights. He wanted to spend every waking moment with the Earl.
Staring out over the garden, for a moment Theodore believed that a swaying hedge meant Edmond was about to turn its corner. But of course not. A rabbit ran out from beneath it. Theodore sighed.
"You seem preoccupied," Mrs. Elridge said gently, sitting down on a chair nearby, taking out a book from her apron and leafing through it, clearly not intending to read at all.
“A touch,” Theodore replied. “Can I help you, madam?”
“Yes, you may tell me what it is that you are so concerned about. Is it to do with Lord Thanet?” she pressed.
Theodore slightly resented the fact that she used her authority over him to demand an answer, but he also knew that he had to respect her position. “Yes, it is.”
She smiled knowingly, causing Theodore to look away in shame. “You miss him?” she asks.
“Somewhat. Above all, I resent that he did not bid me farewell,” Theodore explained.
“I see,” Mrs. Elridge replied.
"I suppose I felt as though we were becoming friends," Theodore said with a nervous laugh. "A foolish thought, I know."
She laughed back, more earnestly than Theodore had. “Not at all. We are friends, are we not? One can become friends with someone who is not of their own class. And you were once one of higher standing. It makes perfect sense that you would desire his friendship.”
“Do you believe he saw us as more than acquaintances?” Theodore asked.
Mrs. Elridge paused. “He might have done. Given enough time. Perhaps not yet.”
Theodore nodded and leaned his elbow on the chair’s arm, his hand in his palm. “I thought as much. I am far too eager for my own good.”
“Some of us move a little faster than others,” Mrs. Elridge said. “Give Lord Thanet time, and he will catch up to you. But you must wait for him to arrive there.”
“No, no,” Theodore replied. “I think at least in this case I need to step back and accept my station.”
Mrs. Elridge was silent a moment. She sighed. “If that is what you want.”
“Not what I want, madam, but what I need,” Theodore said.
"You and the Earl looked to become such great friends, too," Mrs. Elridge bemoaned. "He was even asking after you when he l
eft, do you know?"
Theodore felt his entire body tense. He turned around in the chair to fully face Mrs. Elridge. “He was?”
“Indeed, but you were occupied and I did not want you to feel guilty for not being present at the time he departed. I suppose I ought to have mentioned it,” she explained.
Theodore laughed a little. “Not at all, not at all. You are too kind already. But thank you for letting me know.”
Mrs. Elridge closed her book and stood up, smiling. “I am glad I could help. I must return to my duties.”
Theodore stood and bowed. “I also ought to resume my duties.”
As he walked away from her, down the hallway, Theodore felt a spring in his step. It felt pretty good to know that Edmond cared. They were still on good terms, whatever they disagreed on. As always, Theodore had jumped to conclusions far too quickly. Edmond cared. Edmond loved him on some level. Edmond just had things he needed to attend to. Theodore could scarcely wait until they met again.
***
When the letter arrived the next morning, it was even more reassuring. It was like a warm hug from the man he had grown to love, against his proper judgment. The paper even smelled of Edmond. Theodore couldn’t eat his breakfast, he just made his way to his room, locking the door and collapsing on the bed to read the letter in private.
My good friend Mr. Smithe,
I hope this letter finds you well.
I am sorry about what I have said that might have hurt you. I am sorry that I could not see you before I departed. I had some matters to attend to at home, and, to be perfectly honest, I was not certain that I should be in the presence of other nobles just yet. I assure you that I mean nothing personal by my absence. If anything, you are the only person I do not seek to evade.
We may not be equals in the eyes of the world, but you are as close to me as any man has ever been, in my mind. I have never felt such a connection before. If I am not mistaken, you feel the same way. I want you to know that every compliment I have paid you was in earnest, and every criticism was in error. I love you.
I hope we shall meet again soon, and I hope that you continue to be my dear friend when that happens.
Yours truly,
Edmond Tufton, Earl of Thanet.
Theodore slightly chuckled at how carefully Edmond had phrased the letter. Just enough to let Theodore know the romantic implications, just subdued enough that anyone who read it would assume some sort of fraternal love. He pressed his lips to Edmond’s signature. The paper smelled beautiful. Theodore sighed and re-read the letter, taking in every word, trying to commit them to memory. It was so little, and yet it meant so very, very much.
Theodore wished he could have heard that apology in person. He wished he could explain to Edmond that he himself had never felt anything quite as compelling as the need to kiss Edmond's lips. That he too was confused and scared. That if he knew the date of the Earl’s next visit he would be counting down the very seconds. That would be difficult to send in a letter without arousing suspicion, though. Were he to write back, Theodore would need to be more subtle.
The confusion was different between them, though. Edmond hated himself because he could not let go of his education, of the culture he had ate, drank, and breathed every day of his life. Edmond was trying to reject himself to fit into society, removing parts of who he was like the stepsisters in Cinderella chopping off parts of their feet to wear a shoe which was not made for them.
Theodore was not like that. He did not reject himself, but his culture. He would gladly tell the rest of society to leave, and to destroy the culture around him which wanted to call him an abomination. And yet where would the culture come from to replace it? Man needed to be more than an animal, after all.
Theodore was not scared of any supernatural wrath, or evil contamination, but of being alone. He knew he relied on the existence of farmers and builders, police officers and the army, to keep him safe from an animalistic existence. And yet, when he read of former societies, populated by godless heathens, he saw a utopia where mankind shared the fruits of their labor without harming those who were harmlessly different.
Edmond represented that potential heathen society, that world which could exist behind closed doors, letting Theodore finally grow as a man without risking arrest, unemployment, or worse.
For the first time in a long time, for the first time since his adoptive father had died, Theodore had stopped feeling alone in the world.
Heading to bed, Theodore knew he would be restless that night. He knew he would only have one thing on his mind. But he would be happy in his restlessness.
Chapter Twenty
Edmond sat at his dining table, vast and nearly empty, looking at a breakfast he was not sure he would be able to stomach. He was hungry, but he felt so tense that he knew he would expel it all if a single bite were to enter his body. He sipped coffee, wondering why this energizing beverage was not as popular at home as it was in America.
As Mrs. Hubble, returning from her morning chores, saw Edmond’s tray of bacon and toast growing cold, she frowned. “You have not touched a crumb, Sir,” she said in her usual almost maternal tone.
“I have no appetite,” Edmond said. His stomach grumbled, as though intent on siding with Mrs. Hubble.
“Do you not?” she asked.
“I may, but I do not feel well enough to eat,” he replied.
"Something appears to be troubling you, Sir," Mrs. Hubble said with a warm and friendly smile. "Would you like me to listen, perhaps to advise?"
He smiled back. “Please, do take a seat. There is something I wished to discuss with you.”
Mrs. Hubble pulled out a chair and sat down, back straight and feet together, the very image of respectability. Edmond felt awkward at how lazily slumped he was sitting, but he didn’t want to sit up just to mirror her, so he further committed to his position, sliding back a little in the chair.
“Whenever you are ready, Sir,” she said.
Edmond nodded. “You see, during my stay at the Elridges’ house I met someone. Someone who I have no business being attracted to. She is beautiful. And interesting. Well-spoken. And I believe she is interested in me also.”
“And you wish to know how to propose to her?” Mrs. Hubble asked.
Edmond sighed. “I wish. But alas, no.”
“Why not?” she pressed.
"It is a futile endeavor," Edmond said, stirring even more sugar into his cup of tea. "He—I mean she is beyond my station. Too much to overcome. There is no possibility of our union being acceptable in the eyes of society, not here or back in England.”
"Anything can be overcome if we believe in ourselves, if we believe in the Lord, and in what is good and true."
"Perhaps this is not good or true, then," Edmond replied, forcing a smile. “Is there any way you know of to rid oneself of unacceptable emotions?”
“Time is the only cure, I am afraid,” Mrs. Hubble answered immediately. “That and finding something else with which to occupy oneself in the interim.”
“I see,” Edmond said.
"A nice warm bath should do some good," Mrs. Hubble said.
"I had one yesterday," Edmond replied. "As soon as I arrived. I am clean.”
"They are not simply for cleanliness, but for peace of mind, for joy," she replied.
Edmond nodded. She had no authority over him, and yet he felt compelled to obey her as though she were the queen, or his own mother. He stood up and she immediately followed suit. “Would you ask for a bath to be prepared as I finish my coffee?” he asked.
“Immediately, Sir,” she replied with a soft smile.
Mrs. Hubble curtsied and left the room. Edmond rang the service bell, to make sure someone would come and clear the table, then made his way to his quarters to prepare for a bath.
He had always felt something was wrong with himself. He had from time to time imagined the naked and strong bodies of other men when he felt himself aroused. He had felt compelled to look as
ide, face hot and uncomfortable, when he saw a man servant shirtless during his duties, or when he saw other men swimming naked in the rivers back in England. It was easy, back then, to dismiss those thoughts and act as though they had never existed.
But it was no longer just about his own emotions and fantasies. It was about that man. The man he would not be able to have. Now his desires had something concrete on which to focus, real memories of real inappropriate acts, he could not send them away. A little voice in the back of his brain kept whispering of all the vile things he had wanted to do his whole life. It kept reminding him that they were now possible.
Edmond found himself staring at his naked body in the mirror as he undressed for the bath. Had Theodore... liked it? He touched his stomach, which, a far cry from the taut muscles of the working men Edmond sometimes saw shirtless, was hairy and somewhat soft. He looked at his chest and shoulders, far broader than those of the men he lusted for. He observed how white his skin was, completely untanned below the neck.
Edmond had never felt very attractive. It was a bit of an ego boost to be honest, to have someone treat his body as though it were some delectable treat, rather than a fairly average, unhealthy man. If Theodore desired him, then he had to be desirable enough, at least.
It was almost a relief to sink into the bath, hiding his body from his own judgmental gaze.
Laying in the bath, enjoying the warm water, the floating petals, he wondered if Theodore would have liked to join him. Edmond would have liked to see Theodore’s naked body sliding into the large tub, the petals and soapy foam gently rippling around Theodore’s perfectly formed muscles. But Theodore was not there.
For the first time in a long time, he actually felt alone. For the first time since losing his father, it felt as though there were an empty space in his home. Such a large house, such a large room, such a large tub, and nobody to share it with.
