A Malevolent Manner (Patrick Pierce #1)

by William Scott

Each day there’s a new potential for self-discovery and Patrick Pierce had come to that realization in the last few weeks. He had discovered that he enjoyed firearms as much as swords, that he was a decent student of the German language, and that he could converse with attractive women without making a fool of himself. Well, some of the time. But he had not been prepared for the fact that he would enjoy wearing a kilt.

  Despite his father being born in Scotland, Pierce had never worn the national clothing. Indeed, he’d never even contemplated wearing it. But that all changed when he woke up the morning after the candlelit conference with MacDuff and Tiberius. A kilt, along with all the accoutrements was waiting in his dressing room when he entered. A quick interrogation of his valet revealed that the Brown Pack had sent it up with their compliments.

  “Am I supposed to wear it?” asked Pierce as he felt the fabric.

  “That’s generally the idea with clothing sir,” replied Melrose in his most professional servant’s voice.

  “I know MacDuff wears a kilt everyday, but I haven’t seen anyone else wearing one.”

  “Sean is also known to wear one periodically, but they’re the only Scots in the Manor.”

  Deciding to try something new, he had Melrose help him into it properly and was surprised by the ease of fit and the comfort. He looked in the mirror and was impressed by the fact he didn’t look like an idiot. In fact he almost looked distinguished.

  “It’s the Maple Leaf tartan,” explained Melrose as Pierce was observing himself. “It’s the national tartan of Canada. The brown, red, yellow, and green hues are meant to represent the changing colours of the maple leaf.”

  Pierce was speechless with appreciation from this pronouncement. He had assumed that the reddish brown coloured tartan had been picked due to his Packs colour. But he had not expected the real reason to be so personal. For the first time since his arrival he felt at home in the Manor.

  “I’m blown away,” he finally uttered emotionally. “I didn’t expect this. Thank you.” He could tell Melrose fought to keep his own composure as he passed a brown tweed jacket over for Pierce to complete his outfit.

  Looking in the mirror a final time, he was shocked by the transformation. He looked like a Scottish laird, equally ready to tramp around the highland heather or discuss immense matters over a snifter of scotch.

  This also seemed to be the consensus throughout the Manor as he made his way to the Brown Packs lair. The staff had always acknowledged his passing with a curt nod, an act that he had initially found unsettling, but had slowly gotten used to. However they had always seemed to do this out of form or duty, and did not really see him as one of the Lord’s of the Manor. But as he walked the halls in his new clothing, they stopped immediately and would offer a clearly audible m’Lord. After passing the first couple, who showed this respect, he started to walk taller, straighter and with more purpose.

  The feeling remained even when he entered the large stag engraved door that guarded the entrance to the Brown Pack’s rooms. He had expected to receive some sarcastic comments or some sly grins at best, when he met with his men. But that was not the case.

  “You look grand lad,” exclaimed MacDuff enthusiastically. He was wearing a matching kilt with his regular uniform. He strode over and gave him the now standard slap on the back.

  Pierce was staggered, not physically, but emotionally as he looked from MacDuff, to Sean, and then to Liam. They were all dressed in the Maple Leaf tartan. Sean wore a kilt like Pierce and MacDuff, while Liam wore a pair of plaid trews. Their brown leather uniforms complemented the rustic tartan perfectly, looking as though they had been designed in unison.

  It was at this moment that Pierce finally knew what it meant to be part of something larger than himself and to be accepted. He had been a shy child and had avoided large groups and intimate friendships, afraid to open himself up to rejection or humiliation. He was not necessarily a loner or a misanthrope, but he always stayed to the periphery in groups. Despite the welcome he had already received from the Brown Pack after his duel with Sean, it was not a wholehearted display. He imagined they would have made the same gestures to any other semi-qualified Hunt Member. But to make such a symbolic gesture in such a unified way was so foreign to him that he didn’t know how to react.

  “You all look great,” fumbled Pierce after finally finding his voice through all the myriad of feelings. He then decided he had better switch to humour before he was teased for his sentimentality. “Except for Liam. You look like a cheap golf pro at a public course.”

  “Apologies my lord,” bowed Liam theatrically. “But I suppose I’m just not man enough to wear a skirt…kilt…” He finished hurriedly, raising his hands in mock defence.

  “Aye, that’s about right,” MacDuff acknowledged with a smile, turning the tables on his witty subordinate. They all had a quick laugh and both Sean and Liam came over to shake Pierce’s hands, unofficially welcoming him into their tight knit club.

  “Well isn’t this a Gaelic scene,” pronounced a dry voice from the doorway.

  The four men turned quickly, not used to having unsolicited intruders in their space. There were few keys throughout the Manor that opened the main door to their chamber and the majority of those keys were on the four men currently within. However they all relaxed quickly, recognizing the owner’s voice.

  “I didn’t know you still had a key Tiberius,” observed MacDuff smiling. “We’ll have to look into changing the locks. Keep out the riff raff.”

  “Speaking of riff raff, how are you gentleman?” he asked Liam and Sean as he walked over and shook their hands. Both greeted him warmly, despite his good natured jab at them.

  Pierce had found that Tiberius garnered a respect around the Manor that bordered on reverence. He was able to joke, cajole, threaten, and order those around him with ease and without receiving any negative responses. It wasn’t just the fact that he was the longest serving staff member of the Manor, it went beyond that. He had a certain innate nobility, charm, and strength that surrounded him at all times, mesmerizing others.

  “Not that we don’t enjoy the visit,” began Pierce with curiosity, “but what are you doing here?”

  “I imagined you would be meeting this morning after our talk last night and decided to stop by.”

  “Talk?” asked Sean, somewhat hurt by being left out.

  “Tiberius, Patrick, and I,” replied MacDuff hurriedly. “We don’t know where Lord Lodge is, though the search has started. Plus we need to find out what Colonel Bufford is up to. There, you’re up to date, so stop feeling sore.”

  “Speaking of Lord Lodge, anything new?” Pierce asked as he sat at the large oak table, realizing that no one would sit down until he did.

  “Nothing new this morning,” replied Tiberius sitting across from him, followed by the others.

  “So why are you here?” repeated MacDuff.

  “Colonel Bufford.”

  “Did he finally shoot someone?” asked Liam lightly, but only received a dark look from Tiberius as a reply.

  “Before he was abducted, Lord Lodge was suspicious of Bufford’s activities,” answered Pierce solemnly. “But now that he’s gone Tiberius has followed Lodge’s wishes and passed the investigation onto me. That me in turn means us, and I assume there are no objections to this pluralisation?”

  Everyone around the table nodded their heads, accepting the challenge.

  “So what should we know about Colonel Bufford?” continued Pierce inquiringly.

  “After I left your room last night I was struck by something that you said. That Colonel Bufford is a crazed idiot. I think we can all agree that it’s an accurate description.” Tiberius waited a second for an objection, but none was forthcoming. “So the question is, why would Lord Lodge have us looking into his activities?”

  “There must be a good reason,” added MacDuff. “I’ve never known Lord Lodge to do anything impetuously.”

  “Agreed. So I decided to look into the Colo
nel’s file last night.”

  “He has a file?” Sean asked incredulously.

  “We all have a file,” Tiberius answered gravely. “Lord Lodge kept a file on all of the Hunt members. He researched their pasts with meticulous detail and kept notes on their activities after they joined.”

  “But does that also include those of us who are not members?” Sean pushed farther.

  “Of course. Though Lord Lodge was not nearly as concerned with the staff as members and kept the files succinct. But Drummond probably added to them, he is nothing if not a busy-body with a bureaucratic need for detailed records.”

  “Plus I assume that, in general, the history of anyone from the outside being brought here would be delved into in great detail. That would require numerous notes that would have to be kept. Members and staff alike.” Pierce’s summation was answered by a nod from Tiberius.

  “Very grand, we’re being spied on from dawn ‘til dusk,” Liam cut in impatiently. “But what did the file on the good Colonel have to say?”

  “If he’s a crazed lunatic now, he wasn’t always,” countered Tiberius looking at those gathered around the table. He leaned back and began reciting the information from memory. “He was born in the United States, in the state of Georgia to be precise. His family were wealthy plantation owners, though poor Nathan received the short end of the stick.”

  “Youngest son?” MacDuff hazarded a guess, quickly confirmed by Tiberius.

  “Third son out of three. So he was packed off to a boarding school in England to be taught like a gentleman. He was kicked out for brawling and sent packing, but did not return home, not immediately. He made his way to the Isle of Dogs in London, where he promptly gambled his savings away.”

  “Sounds like a real threat,” observed Liam with a whistle.

  “Remember our lesson on the deception of appearances?” MacDuff sighed like a long suffering school teacher.

  “I thought that was Sean’s lesson,” he grinned in response, while Sean himself felt the spot where Pierce’s blade had nicked him.

  “So what happened to him in London?” inquired Pierce refocusing the group.

  “His descent into darkness.”