by Cooper, R.
“Perhaps I should take you out then, Mr. Howard.” Mrs. Douglass, oddly, kept her eyes on Will as she made the suggestion. She had pretty eyes, with lashes almost as long and dark as Will’s. “What do you think, William? Shall we drag him out into the limelight?”
Will wondered if she saw the way Charlie’s flesh hand tightened on the arm of his chair.
“Surely not the limelight.” Will kept his voice down and focused back on her. “Not on the stage itself. Perhaps a balcony, quiet and secluded, where he may enjoy himself without worry, and keep the company of those he loves.”
“William.” Katherine made a noise that was close to unladylike. Her sisters’ eyes grew sharp.
“Will,” Charlie exhaled his name but Will could not look at him. He could not trust himself now.
“That sounds like reasonable advice, William. Thank you.” Mrs. Douglass was soft, but Will quickly took his leave, without any grace at all.
~~~
Will spent the next hour outside the study dusting a table. There was a maid who did most of the cleaning but no one would think it out of the ordinary to catch Will doing some dusting, no one but his master, but his master did not leave the study during Mrs. Douglass’ visit.
Mrs. Douglas, despite being American, seemed knowledgeable of politics and the issues that Master Charlie was interested in. She probably also read the same books. Will tried to read, he truly did, but other things seemed to always need his attention. He preferred to see and hear his stories acted out in front of him. It had never seemed silly before, but now he felt very silly indeed. He was not a man of quality. He was not a scholar or politician. He had done nothing to stand out in his gentleman’s eyes. He was an outspoken, aging bit of crumpet acting as a valet, only tolerated because of his master’s good nature.
He knew he was odd and that others thought so too when Mrs. Douglass asked about him. Will was most unique for a valet. Miss Ann tried to explain it away with a remark about her brother’s love for all mankind. It was not precisely a lie; his master did champion the rights of the common man. But the truth was more that Will was something closer to his master’s friend, as unusual as that might be.
His master had few that he called friend. Left on his own he might have none. Those he did have were as interesting as he was; smart men who seemed to prefer their loneliness, or who spent their evenings in quiet companionship. Will, upon starting the position, had felt for some time that he was intruding on his master’s solitude. It had been almost a month until he had realized that without a speech written beforehand, his master did not know how to talk to others well. More than that, he often found their presence taxing, even that of his sisters.
It had been at close to the same time that Will had become determined to put his new master at ease. He still was not sure why, only that it had become necessary for Will’s peace of mind for his gentleman to relax in his presence. Once he had, it had been his master who had taken the next step to deeper intimacy by calling him, “William,” and Will who had requested the shorter, “Will,” instead. It was familiar in front of company but most never commented. The kind of guests his master had in his home were generally not the sort to comment.
Mrs. Douglass was American, Will reminded himself. It was possible she thought his gentleman very democratic and could not help but admire him for it. Soon she would take him to the theatre and do things to him in a secluded balcony that Will had been dying to do. After that they would get married and the lady with her knowing eyes would want no part of Will in her house.
His master liked to jest about Will’s tendency to take his plays and operas to heart but Will knew he was right about how this melodrama would end. Mrs. Douglass had guessed Will’s feelings. She might feel sorry for him but if she was any kind of woman she’d want Will gone from her new home.
Where Will went after this wouldn’t matter. Another master, perhaps, until he truly was too old, and then he would find work for gentlemen of the merchant class who would not know Will’s skills as a valet were lacking. He would never see his master again unless he glimpsed him in the street or snuck in to watch him in the House.
Will was deep in the throes of his future heartache when he realized that the ladies were taking their leave. He dashed back to the kitchen and came back out as they emerged from the study. Charlie was following them out, moving much slower than he had that morning.
Will frowned after him in worry but would not sting his gentleman’s pride in front of his American widow by inquiring about his strength. Charlie’s sister Melisande had his attention in any event. She was asking about another autowagon, one not designed for breakneck speeds like the current one that Miss Ann had “borrowed” from her brother since he never drove it.
“My brother looked well today,” Miss Ann spoke entirely too close to Will’s ear, making him twitch and twist to glare at her before he remembered himself. Miss Ann was giving him the same look she had given him earlier, the significant one that confused him. It was most likely more concern for her brother. They had had those sorts of talks before.
“He was out late but slept well and took no pain powders this morning,” Will informed her, only to grow even more puzzled when she waved that information away.
“I know you try to serve him as best you can, William,” Miss Ann responded, her face trying to telegraph something significant. Miss Ann had never been subtle but Will felt the blush flare hot along his cheeks and down his neck. Her meaning was only too clear now. He bent his head.
“I have never had so good a gentleman,” he whispered honestly, and was forced to admit the truth, “He’s far too good for the likes of me.” They both knew it. Even if Miss Ann did not know Will’s exact reputation, she knew Will was not of her brother’s class and had none of his finer feelings. Will did not think of his fellow man when he had only one to protect. He was a selfish, greedy sort, who wanted his gentleman all to himself and would do things other men would consider debased and unmasculine if Charlie asked him to. Will was not fit for him but he would still take him any way that he could.
He glanced back at Mrs. Douglass, whose head was angled down to listen to Miss Katherine, but whose gaze sparkled mischievously up at his master. Then he looked at Miss Ann. “I will be happy when he is happy,” Will told her, abjectly miserable and aware that it was all over his face. “Excuse me, miss,” he added, and hurried into the kitchen where no one would follow.
~~~
The rest of the day was quieter, intensely so, even for an already quiet house. Will suspected his master had taken the telephone off the cradle once again but did not comment. He kept to the kitchens. His gentleman had decided against going out for his supper which left Will to provide for him. As he dashed out to the market before giving up and ordering trays delivered from Charlie’s favorite supper club, Will could not help but think that Miss Ann would expect him to see her brother fed and fed well.
His gentleman looked up from his correspondence when Will brought the tray to his desk but only to push the tray toward Will and stare pointedly until Will had no choice but to sit and share the meal with him. It was a gesture his master had made before. Will usually took it as a sign that he was not looking his best and his master was concerned for his health, but tonight it made him hide a smile as he devoured roast beef and potatoes. If he had ordered more food in expectation of this moment, and if that was evident in the portions on offer, that was between him and his clever master.
Will spent more time on the meal than Charlie did. He thought his master too absorbed in his work to eat until Charlie finally shoved away a stack of letters with a tired sigh and glanced at him.
“You had much to do in the kitchen today?” It was Will’s imagination that made his gentleman sound so wistful.
“I didn’t want to interrupt your work.” It was good work his gentleman did. Will often listened from the gallery and read the reports in the papers. But most of his master’s speeches he knew by heart from eveni
ngs like this one. His master often read to him, rehearsing speeches long before anyone else heard them and asking Will’s opinion.
“And earlier?” Charlie interrupted Will’s thoughts. “I have never seen you leave a room so fast.” He was no longer eating. Will had his full attention. Will tried to show him a blank face but smart man that his master was, he raised an eyebrow that said he did not believe the act for a moment. “I have found Mrs. Douglass friendly but,” there his master paused to give Will a careful frown, “but you did not think so?”
“I did not say that.” Will studied the desk, the floor, the remnants of dinner. “She is,” he had to firm his voice to seem convincing, “she is a charming lady, sir,” he paused again, then shrugged, “for an American.”
Charlie gave him a stern look that quickened Will’s heartbeat. It also did nothing to hide the crinkles of at the corners of his master’s eyes. “I see you couldn’t resist one little dig,” he remarked.
Will sat up. “I am spiteful creature who ought to be punished, sir,” he tossed back in a much warmer tone that he had intended to use. The hint of a smile froze on his master’s face before his master looked down again.
“You have a different view of people than I do, Will. Often better than anything I could find in any monograph on human nature.” His gentleman didn’t seem to notice the sound that slipped from Will’s throat, which was for the best, as Will thought it close to a desperate whimper. His master did not just say such things. He believed them. “More than that, I… I care deeply about your opinion, your impression of today. You did not seem happy and I wondered… I wondered….” The champion of the working class stuttered into silence. He was not looking up to see the expression on Will’s face. It was the only thing Will was grateful for.
Will could only think that he was being told that his opinion mattered more to his master than that of any other and that his master wanted his opinion on the woman who had finally caught his eye. “Your sisters are obviously fond of Mrs. Douglass.” It was a very diplomatic answer. Will had learned something of politics from all those speeches.
“My sisters,” Charlie repeated, with an unexpected roll of his eyes. But he tapped the table with his fingers, gears shifting quietly at the motion, then put his other hand flat on the desk. “My sisters are meddling,” he announced with a cough. “I believe they think I am unhappy.”
“Matchmaking?” Will’s lips parted on a hopeful breath. “But you seemed,” eager for her attention, pleased to see her, “you laughed with her.” He didn’t mean to make it a complaint.
For a moment his master’s gaze was too sharp on him then Charlie turned his attention to the work awaiting him, though he did not touch it. “My sisters think, correctly, that left on my own, I give my heart away foolishly.”
“Did you once?” Will knew he shouldn’t ask.
Charlie’s eyes came back to him for a moment. “Yes.” His smile was mocking yet the harsh feeling was directed at himself. “Before….” He trailed off and did not say before the war, or, before the torpedo.
“Is that why you bought your commission?” Will scowled at the unknown breaker of hearts and then at his master for being a young fool in love who had risked his life over an ended affair.
“You are reading too much into it.” His gentleman must have been able to see the anger in Will’s expression. When he spoke again he must have meant his words to be placating. “It’s more common than poetic. I convinced myself someone had feelings for me. He did not. He made that more than clear. It happens everyday.” He was a touch too clipped, his tone flat. The wound remained despite his next words. “I am not a character in an opera.”
“Don’t do it again.” Will was agitated enough to push himself to his feet but immediately fell back into his chair to rub at his arms. He softened his voice to a plea and forced away all thoughts of a heartless man destroying his master’s young hopes. “Even if you are hurt, sir, don’t do that or anything like that again.”
It gave him no joy to learn of his master’s taste for men in those circumstances. Will reached for him then quickly stretched toward the telephone instead, replacing the receiver.
His master was utterly still. “I did not mean to upset you.” He paused to take a deep breath then shook his head. “I was younger and stupid. In any event,” he took another long breath, “no matter, my sisters will ensure that I am never alone. They hired you, didn’t they?”
They had, though they couldn’t have known the feelings Will would develop. Will had been merely one in a series of valets to them. They had probably only hoped that he would cope better than the others, or at least be better suited to their brother’s temperament.
“A decision they probably regret,” Will started to jest but Charlie cut him off before he could attempt a laugh.
“If they have anything to say to you, tell me,” he ordered, scowling so sternly that Will felt a moment’s pity for Miss Ann. His gentleman would deny being so fearsome if asked but at times like that Will could see him as a soldier. His heart almost could not take it.
“Certainly, sir,” Will lied, then continued as smoothly as he could considering his racing heart. He stood up to clear the dishes before something else occurred to him and he stopped with the tray in his hands. “Are you, sir? Unhappy?” he clarified, then wondered at his master’s brief hesitation.
“I am perfectly happy, Will, thank you.” The smile was warm, but Will lingered, not entirely reassured.
“I can come back, sir, when this is taken care of. If you have need of me.” There was no hesitation in him though he might wish there were. But if he was quick, his master’s answering smile was quicker. Will could not restrain a delighted sigh or the saucy dip of his head. “Then I am yours tonight, sir.”
It was the swift parting of his master’s lips that brought his own words to his horrified attention. Will winked to make his last comment a jest then hurried from the room.
~~~
Only this gentleman could make Will feel like an eager boy again. He saw to the dishes and the rest of the house, dimming the gaslights and turning down his master’s bed in a rush but then stopped to stare at his reflection and sigh over his sweaty palms and flushed cheeks, the pink in his nose. Will had spent many an evening in his master’s study listening to speeches or passages from books. A book Will could not sit through when reading alone was far easier to listen to when read in his master’s voice.
He dashed from the bedroom and returned to the study just as the pen that had been in his master’s hand bounced off the wall and landed on the floor. For a moment there was only silence and his master’s harsh breathing and then Will swept in and knelt down to pick up the pen. He took his time looking for stray drops of ink that might stain and giving his gentleman time to compose himself. When he found no evidence of spilled ink he stood up.
Charlie’s mouth was a tight line. He was trembling but he put his hands on the desk and pushed himself to his feet. It took a clear effort and Will frowned. When Will had first started his position, Charlie had used different prosthetics and been in more pain. He had used his left hand for most things before the war and still had difficulties using his right. Small acts had been difficult to perform and filled him with frustration. His master was too controlled to allow anyone to see his temper but Will had seen the aftermath, books shoved from his desk, glasses that had slipped from his grip smashed on the floor. Afterward Charlie would be withdrawn, embarrassed, more for losing control of himself than for any failure to hold a pen or button a shirt. Will suspected there had been more of these moments that Charlie had hidden from him, moments where his frustration got the better of him. He had certainly hidden them from his sisters.
“Tired, sir?” Will asked and moved over to the desk to lay down the pen. The late night and the visit today had had more of an effect on his gentleman than Will had thought. It was not easy for a man to pretend all was well when all was not well. It was no wonder the pen slipped from his
master’s tired hand.
“Damn it,” Charlie swore quietly but took the pen in his hand again and held it firmly. His hand was still trembling. Will would have noticed that sooner if he hadn’t been so distracted by Mrs. Douglass and her possible place in his master’s heart. “I’m sorry. I don’t… I suppose I am tired.”
Charlie put the pen very carefully back down and closed his eyes. After a few moments his shoulders dropped. It was a heavy burden, and Will did not mean the weight of the steel arm and leg, though he had held them and knew their weight. There was so much that his master did not share, not with Will, not with anyone, so much that had to be pried from him, and even then he would pretend that he wasn’t in any pain unless it was undeniable.
“I am sorry,” his master repeated himself, likely misinterpreting Will’s silence as fear or disapproval, “I threw a tantrum like a child because I couldn’t hold a pen.”
“Was it just the pen?” Will deliberately did not say sir until he had come around behind the desk. “Is there something else bothering you?”
“They are… there’s a stiffness in my leg.” Charlie would not say pain, even if he was in agony. He would admit to aches and stiffness only. But he looked up at Will and grimaced before trying to rub a steel hand over a steel leg as though his leg were made of flesh. He checked himself a moment later. “I’m sure it’s nothing. My mind and not the equipment, though of course I will have my leg looked at as soon as possible.” His reasonable words were followed by a muttered complaint, almost too low for Will to hear. “However much a waste of time it will be, when the doctors and engineers will tell me it’s all a problem of an alienated psychology and imply politely that I am insane. That there are no sensations from a limb that is not there.”
