And I Am Happy

by Cooper, R.

“I am sorry that you were so cruelly treated.” Charlie exhaled, relief easing the scowl from his face. “But I confess I don’t like to imagine you with others,” he murmured, then blinked and met Will’s eyes, “At their whim, is what I meant to say,” he added. His gentleman was warm and flushed and shining with oil from Will’s hands. It was the powders, but his gaze was so light in that moment that Will couldn’t resist taking the last step required to caress his shoulder.

  “I do not want others, sir,” Will confessed in return, then went to turn off the bathwater before he could do anything else foolish, or convince himself that his words had brought the beginnings of a hopeful smile to his master’s face.

  ~~~

  Not long after his breakfast, his gentleman left on business that he did not share with Will. Sometimes he did not, though usually more out of forgetfulness than as a deliberate attempt to keep Will in the dark. Will was not sure which this was. There had been nothing in the appointment book aside from a luncheon at his club. His master left much earlier than necessary for that and was still gone as the clock approached four.

  Will straightened more than he had ever straightened in his life, startling and then annoying the maid who came in to polish the wood and shake out the rugs. He ignored her and continued putting back every book in the library in the place it was supposed to go instead of in a pile on an ottoman. He collected the laundry and sent it out, then went in to check the ink and paper in his master’s study. When everything was where it should be, he went to the kitchen to make himself some tea. He had not even touched the kettle when the doorbell rang.

  A chill went down his back, as he knew it could not be his master, who had a key. He imagined the ring had seemed more insistent than usual and walked slowly to the door to admit Miss Ann.

  “Mr. Howard is not at home,” he told her, taken off guard when she swept in.

  “Mr. Howard,” she echoed him and waved a hand dramatically, “we both know you don’t address him so formally when alone with him, William. If you did he would never call you Will, no matter the difference in your stations.”

  Will almost put his hands to his cheeks to hide his blush. He stared at her for a moment, torn between giving her the boot and losing his job, and ushering her in, and settled for repeating himself. “Charlie is not at home,” he told her. Only as he said the name did he remember that he used that name to his master that morning, and Charlie had not corrected him.

  Miss Ann harrumphed. “I’ll wait.” She continued in to the study on her own. “Bring tea.”

  Only the knowledge that Charlie would allow his sister to stay kept Will from showing her the door. As it was, he did not make sandwiches for her tea and gave her only two biscuits. She harrumphed again when she saw them on the plate, then made him jump when she directed him to bring a cup and saucer for himself.

  She did not ask. Will managed a weak protest just the same. Miss Ann only stared, as fierce as her brother could be. Will somehow found himself fetching a cup and pouring her tea as best he could, as though he knew anything about a lady’s tea aside from what he’d gleaned watching her with her sisters. He sat as well, a startling breach of protocol that left him too nervous and curious to have even a sip. She had never asked this of him before and he could not ascertain her intent.

  “As I said yesterday, William, my brother is doing well. His health is certainly better. I will even allow that he looks improved. You found him a better tailor.”

  “I don’t think Charlie would care for us discussing—” Will tried to interject.

  Miss Ann was faster than he was. “He should take a firmer hand with you. His cravat was showy today.”

  “It was not,” Will argued, as the hints of gold in Charlie’s cravat had been faint next to the white of his shirt and the clean black of his jacket. He blinked. “You saw him today?” He didn’t understand why Miss Ann would be here if she had already met with her brother. He clutched his saucer so hard it rattled. He did not think of his master’s “firmer hand” at all.

  “Yes, he was in the Park with a group of admirers.” Miss Ann was toying with him. Will couldn’t say how he knew it, except that he very much doubted his master had been in any group, much less a group of admirers, not if his master could have avoided it.

  He stilled his hand. “He is doing better,” he said, reasonably calm on the surface, “but that is not my doing, it’s his own hard work.”

  “He has worked very hard.” Miss Ann paused to take a shaky breath and then a long drink of tea. She rattled her cup in her saucer too but only for a moment. “Very hard, as he often works when he has a particular goal in mind.” Abruptly she raised her head and narrowed her eyes. “I will trust in your discretion now and tell you that Charles…. My brother was not well when he returned from Afghanistan. He suffered a series of setbacks. I do not wish him to suffer them again now.”

  “I don’t know what you mean, Miss Ann. I would never hurt him. You know I would not.” He lowered his voice for that last part, unable to help himself.

  “My brother might have a body forged of iron but it shields a soul too easily wounded. He requires a committed spirit. He requires strength and a selfish core, lest he give all of himself away.” Will would never have been able to tell from Miss Ann’s hard voice that she took three sugars and cream in her tea and lavishly spoiled her herd of fat dogs. He had a fleeting impression that whoever had broken her brother’s heart had paid dearly for it. A lady’s revenge could be vicious.

  Will bit his tongue so he did not say that or whisper any more of his buried desires. He was committed more than she knew but he was also aware of the impossibility of his situation. He could not even say what his master felt for him besides affection, and even if there were more, his beloved gentleman would never approach him. The difference in their stations was too great. A girl might on occasion marrying her dancing master or her tutor, an older man might marry his lifetime mistress, but that was rare and it had never yet occurred between two men, even with the sodomy laws repealed.

  But there was no arguing with Miss Ann, even had Will known what point he was supposed to argue. “Yes, Miss Ann,” he agreed at last, his tone subdued, and didn’t know what to make of her puzzled expression or how she reached out to push the cup of tea in his hands toward his mouth.

  “Have a sip, William, you look peaked,” she ordered, only to abandon him at the sound of the front door opening. She rose, presumably to meet her brother, and Will took that as his dismissal. He held his cup and saucer and darted past both brother and sister into the kitchen. His heart was racing and his thoughts were a mess that he could not seem to tidy. But he slowed his breathing and leaned with his ear against the kitchen door.

  Miss Ann was speaking. Her words were upset but she seemed oddly calm. “…Declined an invitation of hers this morning… I had thought you got along.”

  His master’s voice was level, which it almost always was around his sisters, even when he later confessed to Will that they could drive him to distraction. “She is a very nice woman. A pleasant companion. But….”

  “But you have no interest in women, or should I say, not this particular woman.” Miss Ann was so blunt that Will nearly dropped his cup and saucer. He missed Charlie’s reaction, though he imagined a startled breath or perhaps even a rare frown. Society begrudgingly accepted lavender-tinted marriages, as long affairs between two men or two women were known, but until the man or woman in question had made their tastes clear it was not usual to speak of them, and then never so directly.

  But his master did not seem surprised, as if Miss Ann had known about him for some time. He said something on a sigh. Will could not make out the words. He heard only Miss Ann’s name.

  She responded in a gentler voice than he had ever before heard from her. “This is you and your soft heart being foolish again.”

  “Little sister,” his master warned. But a mere whispered warning wasn’t going to slow down Miss Ann. She must have come here to ha
ve this talk.

  “I want you think of what could happen, Charles. I want you to think of me. You can deny it all you like but I am a spinster, and I will always be a spinster, so you must listen to me.”

  Will had never heard her speak that way. Neither had his master it seemed. “Of course I have thought of it, Ann. I think of the impossible everyday. Sometimes I even trick myself into thinking it’s possible.”

  “None would say no to you, Charles,” Miss Ann insisted.

  “Not with my fortune, you mean.” The heaviness in his gentleman’s voice made Will put down his cup and slide a hand along the door. “Or do you mean their image of me as the hero to be pitied?”

  “That is not at all what I mean, Charles Howard!” From her tone, Will would not have been shocked if Miss Ann struck her brother but he didn’t hear a slap. She was fierce but in that moment Will did not mind. He could have kissed her for it. “You have never seen yourself as you are when giving a speech,” she went on, rallying troops, “You draw people, brother, you always have. And now you look,” she faltered for the first time, “now you look as though you know a lover’s touch. Do not doubt yourself. Take faith in that. Others will want you. You have only to ask.”

  If his master had an answer to that, Will did not hear it, not even with his face pressed hard to the painted wood of the door. Will wondered if Miss Ann was holding him, or had her hand pressed to his gentleman’s cheek, and then thought numbly that it was over for him. His master would never disappoint his sisters and this sister was telling him to attach himself to Mrs. Douglass. Or if not her, then someone, and soon. Will knew he was not good enough to be that someone. It did not make the fact hurt any less.

  “Charles,” Miss Ann drew out the name then abruptly changed it to a new name, with a new emphasis, “Charlie, you know I am telling you this because I love you.”

  “I know,” his master agreed, almost reluctantly.

  “You must move forward.” Miss Ann sighed wearily at her own words. “You cannot stay this way.”

  “I would not force myself on someone so lovely,” Charlie insisted in return, and Will closed his eyes and put his back to the door so that the rest of his words were nothing more than a murmur. He did not need to hear anymore. Mrs. Douglass was lovely indeed.

  ~~~

  Will served his master tea without once meeting his master’s gaze and then went to work scrubbing the kitchen, a task he had never done before as it wasn’t in his duties. His hands were not pretty when he was done but it was a proper kitchen again. He gave the maid her pay and then asked his master politely if he was going out for dinner. When Charlie looked at him, distracted and unhappy, and shook his head, Will went out to fetch him supper.

  He helped his gentleman to bed around ten o’clock and swallowed every pleading word that rose up in his throat when Charlie stared at him. “Are you not feeling well, Will?” his master asked. “This morning I thought… I thought you seemed in better spirits.”

  Though Will could have been dreaming the sadness in Charlie’s voice he made himself sound cheerful. “I’m fine, sir,” he answered, as his master always answered when the ghost of his old limbs pained him and he did not wish to discuss it. Then he turned down the gaslights to give himself the cover of darkness and went into his room, shutting the door behind him.

  ~~~

  He could not sleep without the sound of Charlie’s breathing and got out of bed before light. He dressed and went out, ordering coal though they had plenty as well as lilies from lonely flower-sellers to decorate the front entranceway. Ladies liked flowers, from what Will understood of them. He stopped at the markets just as the merchants began to lay out their wares and purchased fresh bread and eggs. He had no idea how to prepare the eggs aside from boiling them but many gentlemen ate boiled eggs for breakfast.

  He dug out and polished a silver egg cup and served the egg and bread for his master’s breakfast with hands that barely trembled. His gentleman froze at the sight of the tray, frowning down at it and then up at Will.

  “We were out of biscuits?” Charlie asked. He had shadows under his eyes as though his night had been a bad one.

  “No, sir.” Will flashed him another small smile and went to the closet to decide on a suit for the day. His master had many appointments about town and possibly a lady to woo. He would need serious colours and a cravat that indicated his intentions. “I thought you could use a change.”

  “A change?” Charlie spoke in a heavy, disappointed tone but did not press the issue. “I’m sure it’s delicious.”

  Will glanced over as Charlie cracked the eggshell and exhaled in relief when the egg was revealed to be fully cooked after all, if somewhat soft. Perfectly edible. Will had done well for his first time.

  “You have several appointments today, sir, do not forget,” Will spoke up after another few moments, when he could not take his master’s dark eyes on him any longer.

  “I have not, thank you, Will.” The warmth in his master’s voice tested his resolve. Will made himself take a long, critical look at the shirt he had taken out for today and decided it needed a better ironing. He could not look up. His master seemed out of sorts and sad and that was Will’s doing but he could not make it better. He was not the one to make it better, no matter how hard he tried to be a true gentleman’s gentleman.

  “I… I can see you have your own errands to attend to,” Charlie spoke as Will prepared to take the shirt into the kitchen. Will briefly closed his eyes before turning around although he did not leave the doorway.

  His gentleman was sitting up in bed, his egg and tea mostly untouched before him. His bedding was the kind of mess that meant a night of turning, and he wore no shirt, as though he had removed it in the dark and flung it to the floor. He looked back at Will for a moment, his gaze traveling slowly over his face and then down to Will’s plain, small starched collar. He considered Will’s simple coat, then swept his eyes back to Will’s hair, held down for once, as was proper. He sighed before looking away.

  “I had thought… a shave,” Charlie cleared his throat, “but I shall shave myself. Thank you, Will.”

  Will curled his hands into fists, further wrinkling his master’s shirt, but he nodded. “Whatever you wish, sir,” he breathed and turned back.

  He returned with an ironed shirt to help his gentleman in and out of the tub. Charlie did not ask, but Will saw him moving to stand and came closer without being bidden. Charlie smelled clean and warm and pressed himself to Will with a strength that said he could have stood on his own. Despite that he didn’t let go and for a long moment Will turned his face into his master’s neck and breathed. His fingers curled into hot, slippery skin. His master’s heart beat furiously under his hand and his muscles were firm and tense.

  Will opened his eyes and saw himself in the mirror clinging to his gentleman. He made himself step back.

  “Will,” his master called after him then cleared his throat. “There is a draft of a speech on my desk, I hoped you might read it through if you had a moment,” he proposed, only to fall momentarily silent when Will swallowed noisily and nodded for answer. “You do not have to,” his gentleman recanted the offer, which made Will feel even worse. His master trusted in Will’s opinion as he trusted few others. Will would not break that trust now.

  “Of course I will, sir,” Will agreed in the most level voice he could manage. The answer did not have any visible effect on his frowning, silent master. Will brought him a towel but held it at a distance, keeping his eyes averted. He laid out the shaving things in the same fashion although he mixed the lather himself.

  “If you are feeling…” Charlie began tentatively once Will had wrapped a dry towel around him. Will still could not look at him. “If you do not wish…” There, Charlie paused and coughed. His voice became more forceful. “If you would like the day off, Will, you can have it. I will not need you.”

  “Day off?” The cup of lather slipped from Will’s fingers and hit the floor. He s
hould not be surprised, he told himself as he knelt down to pick up fragments of pottery. The smell of spilled shaving soap hit him strongly when he was close to the floor. It was his master’s scent, the one Will had chosen for him. It was everywhere, on the rugs, even on his master’s feet.

  Will felt his face go hot and wiped at it with his fingers though he knew that would do no good. “Do… do not move, sir,” he heard himself offering a warning in a voice thick and wet. Biting his lip to hide the sounds he wished to make did not stop his mind from reminding him what a failure he was. He could not serve correctly. He could not even be the one thing his gentleman wanted him to be. “I am sorry,” he mumbled, his lips sore from his teeth. His eyes were stinging so he kept his head down as he crawled over to grab a new towel. He scooped up shards of pottery as he went, not wishing Charlie to injure himself because of his mistake. “I’m so sorry, sir,” he whispered again, and shivered when he felt Charlie’s hand at the top of his head.

  “Are you all right, Will?” his master demanded, that essence of command in his tone that made Will want to curl against his chest. Charlie had one hand on the edge of the bathtub so he could lean down to see to Will and Will could not take it.

  “You do not need to help me, sir. I am bad enough at my job, you do not need to lower yourself!” Will flinched at his own words but pulled away from his master at the same time. He gathered most of the pottery into the towel and swept it up into his arms before bolting from the room.

  He heard Charlie calling after him but did not answer. For the first time in his service, he did not want to.

  ~~~

  Will returned late, his stomach growling with hunger and the stench of the public house in his clothes. He had seen a matinee performance that he could remember nothing of and then sat by himself, nursing the same pint for hours. He only returned because time was growing late. He did not know if Charlie would be home and need dinner.