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alivehawk1701And . . . here is another part. I'm barreling toward an end, I love this fic so much (yes I wrote it, I'm biased). Yes, I've taken these beloved characters and through them into a salasous, ghastly premis . . .regardless, hope all (few) of you are enjoying it.
I first awoke still inside my dream. The fading, ruined backdrop of what must have been a nightmare began to fall away and I had the most disturbing sensation of crawling uphill through mud back into consciousness.
I didn’t immediately know where I was, any orientation to place and time were delayed, like a line being drawn back into a boat. About the first thing I was aware of was my head which was throbbing in pain. Secondly, according to my well honed internal clock, it was about 6:30 in the morning. My eyes adjusted enough to look out the eastern window and observed a pale blue and pink sky. The sun had just begun to rise. And thirdly, with much more difficulty, I remembered where I was. Not at home.
Details, regrettable details fell back into place like boulders in my mind. Mr. Wooster’s inexorable engagement, being drugged, intentionally or not, the fearful face of Muniz’s man that I could not explain, all a jumble of misarranged images and sensations. I frantically, and with sick bile in my throat, recalled my actions, which though outside my control, caused shame to seep darkly through the cracks and holes in my already unsteady memory. I desperately tried to remember all I’d said or done.
I rolled onto my back, pressing my fingertips into my temples with a groan. God, how embarrassing.Taking a deep breath I suddenly smelled--Mr. Wooster. Turning my head on the soft pillow I saw him next to me in bed. I’d never slept in such a large bed. He was curled on his side, facing me but not touching. My eyes remained on his still form for some time, transfixed by the steady rise and fall of his chest and the soft puffs of breath from his slightly open mouth. He’d crawled under the quilt on the bed but wasn’t under the sheets. He must have been trying not to wake me. Looking away from him for a moment I realized I was indeed just wearing my vest and pants. Memory of how I came to be undressed was not available. Had he done it? I looked to the side of the bed and saw my clothes on the floor. Yes he had.
Being constitutionally of an energetic nature, it was a rare sight for me to see Mr. Wooster in a true posture of repose, with no obligation to disturb, so often it was my duty to rouse him. I let him lie there for the time being, enjoying the morning sun slowly lighting his face. Traces of my memory of the night before, of polishing silver and an unexpected kindness, danced across my mind like light on water. He was truly and utterly beautiful.
I heard no sounds from other rooms or floors of the building which helped alleviate some of my worry at being caught. So used was I to being up before everyone else. But not today. Though I’m sure I’d slept deeply I felt poorly. My head continued to ache and my stomach was torn between being terribly nauseous and hungry.
Everything had changed. In a matter of days my predictable, small world, had been turned on its head. And though it would appear all I ever wanted, all I dreamed about, I wasn’t filled with solace and gratitude. How would my life, our life, look now? Was I up to taking this risk? Was he? I never considered myself a brave man. But I’ve tried to be a good man.
Glancing to the side of my bed I saw a large glass of water. I was suddenly devastatingly thirsty. Doing my very best not to move too quickly I sat up and, sitting against the headboard of the bed, I drank the whole glass in one delicious breath.
A small sigh next to me alerted me that my efforts to not wake him had been unsuccessful.
“Ugh,” he moaned, stretching out his legs, “Jeeves, what time is it?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,”
“Owls aren’t even to bed yet, why in God’s name are you awake?”
“Thirsty.”
“You need rest,” he groaned, eyes still closed as he kicked at the covers, “Stay,” once he’d kicked down the sheets, he slid closer to me and pulled them back over us both, settling deeply into the pillow next to me.
“What if someone comes looking for us?”
“The only person who would be looking for me at this hour is you. And you’re here,” he grumbled pointedly, throwing an arm over my waist and pulling me to him, resting his head on my chest, “Took me three years to loosen so much as your collar. Give it ten minutes Jeeves.”
“Perhaps you are right,” I answered, after a moment. Ten minutes, “I’m afraid it will be harder for me to relax. In general I have less trust in the universe being kind. Especially in a situation like this,” and in a gesture that still felt so new, so impossible, so inextricably exciting, I put my arm around him, letting him curl tighter into me. Despite all the trepidation, whether it was my compromised constitution or just being content in this moment, I wasn’t thinking about my current lack of personal grooming or appropriate attire, where normally I'd be self conscious I was unexpectedly unconcerned with him seeing me as I was. He seemed completely accepting, I’m not sure why I would have thought otherwise, but unavoidably I regard this all too human form, on most days, as bothersome and burdensome. I let a sigh leave my chest and closed my eyes again.
“I know,” he said with quiet understanding, “But we can pretend for ten minutes,” I felt him inhale deeply, “Good lord, you smell amazing. Your musk no doubt being one of the undignified-s, eh?”
“Musk?” I objected to the word but couldn't help but agree, “Yes, I am but an animal,” I let my hand stroke up and down his side, from the hardness of his hip bone, the rise and fall of his ribs, along the lean muscles of his back, “Of course, god forbid I let anyone see that inescapable fact. How unbecoming of a valet,” I held him closer, “Genetically I always imagined my whole family smelled the same. Of earth and wood and stone. No matter what I wear, or how I act, the generations of hard labor are written into my pores,”
“You wanted away from all that?” he asked softly, never having asked many personal questions before.
“Yes,” I answered, “More than anything,” I felt my heart beat faster, “And they wanted rid of me as well.”
“You should be proud of that. Setting your own path.”
“I am at times.”
One of his feet stretched to run down one of my own, curiously running his toes along the length of my foot, “I never felt I had the chance,” he paused, “Even if I did, not sure what I would have done with it.”
“You would have thrived, I know it.”
“Perhaps,” he had begun stroking my chest through my shirt until his fingers found a nipple which slowly started to encircle it, “Curious thing yesterday,” he said in a rapid change of subject, “This Aurelia woman, god, you couldn’t imagine, well, maybe you could, she’s the sort that raises the hairs on ones neck.”
“She was unkind?”
“Not at all. She was only kind. And only seemed partially interested in me, really.”
“What was she interested in?”
“Quite worldly actually. She spoke a lot of art and history and current affairs. Left me in the dust. Very unlike many of the potentials I’ve met.”
“Indeed. In combination with my experience yesterday it raises many questions,” my nipple had hardened under his fingers which seemed to delight him.
“She very well could be an ambitious, seize the day type person, nothing more, but I got the distinct impression she couldn’t care less about me,” he lean back so his eyes met mine and narrowed in a questioning expression, “She also hated me smoking, looked positively appalled by the action.”
“Her intentions are yet unknown. And I daresay you should indulge your tobacco habit at every opportunity.”
“Yes, you’re right. We will venture to figure it out today, Jeeves. She may have scouted me as an easy target but will rue the day she underestimated me. Particularly with our two heads together.” A small gasp escaped my lips as his teeth found my nipple through my shirt, “Curious reaction there,” he grinned up at me.
“I thought we only had ten minutes.”
“Five now, I reckon,” he suddenly, in one easy movement, rolled on top of me, stradling my hips.
“Five minutes,” I cleared my throat, “Should we really engage in, uh, physicality, when your relatives and your intended are within the same walls?” He raised his arms and took his shirt off, “My god,” I gasped, staring at his bare form on top of me, my heart beat screaming through my whole body. I’d of course seen him undressed before, in the bath or getting ready, but this was entirely different. I was able to actually look at him, noting every detail, naming him as I’d always wanted as absolute perfection to me. His chest was slightly flushed, light hair across his chest darkening as it moved downward to the sizable bulge under his pants. My own growing erection pressed into his thigh, “I am of course very eager to continue on from where we were so rudely interrupted, and far be it for me to deny that this exact scenario has not been the theme of many of my daydreams,” he began to tug at my own shirt, pulling it over my head somewhat roughly, leaving me naked and breathless before him, “Though that was without the considerable complications of your potential marriage to a woman with questionable motives and an aunt I feel is suspicious of me and my interference in your,” he lowered himself to kiss hard on the lips, slipping his legs between mine and lining up our hips so he could grind into me. The feel of skin on skin, our bare chest against one another, lighted every nerve in my body, causing my heart to leap with gratification and anticipation, “Your,” I groaned as he kissed my neck, rocking upwards so our erections met with enough pressure to put the tectonic plates to shame, “Your, oh god, Bertie,”
“You talk too much,” he said from my collar bone, hands mapping out every inch of the exposed flesh, fingers curling into the darker, thicker hairs on my chest, “One of the many things I would like to teach you, Jeeves, how to get out of that dashed head of yours.”
He began to kiss me and with every kiss he inched lower and lower and I began to shift and squirm under him. The soft skin to the inside of my hip bone elicited a sharp gasp and caused me to grip his shoulders, holding him still for a moment. My erection was clear and urgent under the thin fabric of my pants. He paused and looked up at me before releasing it. My hard cock sprung from its confines and I felt a spark of fear and insecurity. His eyes instead widened and his mouth hung open.
“Sir,” I said, lapsing into habits.
Looking up at me from between my legs, an image entirely too obscene and beautiful for my fragile mind to withstand, he asked in a throaty voice, “Can I make you cum? Please, let me do this for you.”
The question was enough to cause my balls to tighten. “Yes,”
He made no hesitation. His lips found the head of my cock, tongue circled and wet the tip with a hearty groan. One hand suddenly grasped me at the base and slid upwards over my whole length while his mouth met the head again, dripping with his saliva. The hot wetness of his mouth overwhelmed me, causing my hips to jerk upwards, knowing in every way possible that this was right and beautiful, it couldn’t be anything else, not when we were together. And suddenly he took all of me into his mouth and I cried out, immediately biting down on my own lip as he bobbed his head, the slick wetness and tightness running up and down my aching cock. Through hand and mouth and tongue, god his tongue, I felt the entire planet slip away. My hips rose into his mouth, unheeded, my breath became harsh, quickened.
“God god god, uh, uh,” as deep in his throat I felt myself tipping over the edge, “Nguh, Bertie,” I gasped, hand moving to his head, grasping his hair, god holding him to me. He hummed in affirmation and in two more bucks of my hips I spilled into his mouth, my vision turning white around the edges as I cried out, caught in the ebs, drowned in long lost ecstacy.
When I was finally ready to open my eyes I saw him licking his lips, crawling up to me, “Never underestimate a Wooster,” he said.
I guided the door closed behind me, softly settling it into its frame in order to make as little noise as possible in the dimly lit hallway of the mansion. I was forced, considering my state of outer and hygienic disarray, to look fervently up and down the rows of closed doors, ears stretched to catch the sound of an approaching footfall in case a rapid exit was necessitated. I’d put on the clothes I’d worn yesterday with great distress. They’d laid on the floor all night and were shocking to behold. I may have felt a more heightened level of self consciousness if it weren’t for the urgent need to right myself and return to my duties.
Satisfied by the vacancy of the hallways I ran my hands over my hair, trying to smooth it down with little success, and dashed down the hall to the servant’s stairway, down several floors to my own quarters. Safety in my room I was able to dress and clean myself to my professional and personal standards of togetherness.
I’d left Mr. Wooster to dress himself. He’d laid back on the pillows, watching me dress with satisfied glee, taunting me to return to the warm bed which part of me desperately wanted to, not for sleep, but to return the generosity he afforded me, to see his skin glisten and blush and for him to gasp out my name in rapture. I was desperate to find out what noises he made, what parts of his body were sensitive to my hands or tongue, how hard I could make him cum, how his skin would taste salty and his chest would heave and his blue, blue eyes would roll back into his head. We’d both known we had to return to our established roles though that undeniable fact didn’t stop me from stealing one last kiss from him.
Standing in front of the small mirror in my quarters, combing my hair, I couldn’t help but smile. In fact I felt completely incapable of not grinning idiotically. How could I not? When what had felt like the chains and boulders of a life never to be realized to its full potential were released, sinking to the depths as I raced to the surface and gulped fresh clean air again, and a heart near to the point of atrophy was gifted new life within my exhausted body. I have observed the effect romantic entanglement can have on the human male but never thought I would be so utterly susceptible. It was only with great effort that more discernible, prescriptive thoughts made it through the purely corporeal haze and into the present. I had to get down to the kitchen and check in with the rest of the staff.
When I was satisfied that I didn’t look as if I’d just come naked and breathless from my master’s bedroom I took a moment to look myself square in the eyes. The face that looked back at me, despite the years etched thereupon, suddenly appeared only as the young man leaving home so many years ago, unsure of himself, excited to work, to make something of himself, to leave the past where it was. The fearless are never brave, I’d told myself then, and I told myself the same now, letting that young unsure part of me be comforted by the older, hopefully wiser part of myself I’d grown into. Was being wise following your heart? I wasn’t sure.
I left the seclusion of that room and headed to the kitchen. When I got there I saw one woman and a younger man engaged in various breakfast related activities.
“Good morning,” I announced myself, reaching for an apron hanging next to the door. As I rolled up my sleeves I worried about not having taken a shower. Did I smell? God I want his smell all over me.
“Alright,” the younger man greeted from across the room. He was holding a stack of plates in his arms, “You’re with Mr. Wooster, are ya?” he was quickly moving out the door into the dining room so I wasn’t able to answer in the affirmative before he was gone.
“Don’t mind him,” the woman said from the stove as I finished tying the apron around me, “Always rushing about. He broke four plates yesterday--told him if he did that again I’d kick him dead,”
“Quite alright,” I assured, surveying the room. Porridge, fruit, coffee, tea and danish. A light breakfast. Everything cold was already plated and ready, the porridge remained. “Apologies for not being here sooner, Mr. Wooster was--”
“No need to explain, darling, they are all the same aren’t they, poor dears,” she sighed, stirring a large pot of porridge with one hand and running her sleeve over her brow with the other, “No disrespect of course.”
I raised my eyebrows, “Of course not,” I cleared my throat, “May I assist in setting up the table or may I help you here?”
“What a gentleman you are,” she smiled. She had a warm and hearty laugh. Her face was round and eyes bright. It pleased me to find someone friendly in the kitchen.
“Jeeves is it? I’m Mary, that bragard was my son Paul and my husband John has the table out there.”
“A pleasure meeting you all.”
“If you could lift this pot, love,” she stepped back, hand braced on her lower back, “My back’s gone out, I could use a break from the heavy lifting.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said stepping forward with several towels guarding my hands. “Where would you like it?”
“On the counter there,” she pointed, “Needs to be put in the tray there too, if you don’t mind. I need to rest for a tic,” she sat down on a nearby stool with a moan.
I lifted the large cast iron pot and put it down next to the fine silver tray, glancing to her still rubbing at her lower back and looking me over, “My, my, you’re a big one aren’t ya?”
“Taller than average,” I agreed, scooping the porridge into the silver.
“My John’s a small man,” she mused, “Course I’m a small woman,” she added, “Never bothered me, all four foot somethin of me, works out fine, really, he don’t steal all the covers at night, know what I mean?” she laughed again.
I smiled, unable not to think about Mr. Wooster and I sleeping curled up together, “Has your family been in the employ of the Muniz family for long?”
“Oh yes, for a stretch,” she thought a moment, “Paul was five years old when we started.”
Interesting, “How do you find it?”
“Not without its challenges,” she sighed, “Not easy getting old, pet, not that I want to complain, no, no, she’s been good to us, she has,”
“I’m glad to hear that,”
“Course it's different now with David and Benjamin gone, young lads they were, like yourself.”
“They moved on?”
“Not by choice,” she hung her head, “No, not by choice, poor boys were sacked not two weeks ago?”
“How unfortunate,”
“Hard workers too, not a bad thing to say about neither of them. Her ladyship has her strong opinions, as you rightly know. All she said was they reflected poorly on her, and sent them off. Think they ended up in France, last they wrote.”
“Certainly it means more work for your family,”
“Quite right it does. Paul don’t mind, he’s got all the energy on this green earth but my poorly body,” she shook her head.
“Does your lady know you are injured?”
“Oh she does,” she groaned, “Don’t you worry about it though, it’ll pass, I don’t want to complain.”
“But perhaps you need to see a doctor?”
“Maybe, maybe, “ she said in a distracted way, getting up after such a short rest, “M’lady doesn’t love doctors, prefers more natural remedies,”
“Natural?”
“Well, sort of, “ she limped forward, “Paul, get a move on with the tea!” she shouted, then at me, moving behind me back to the stove, her hands trailing along my back to steady herself, “Take that out there will yah, almost time,” she patted my lower back, “Strong lad, you are, how about that, John,” she said as if he could hear her, “We got a good one, here,” then back at me, “Welcome home,”
My eyes widened and I paused, tray in hand, struck by the small statement. Home? This wasn’t my home. I wouldn’t want to live here for another day let alone for the rest of my life. Nor would I want Mr. Wooster here. My home, my heart, I would hold close to me. And figure out a way out of this.
She wore a pale blue blazer, stiff white collared shirt and beige riding trousers. Her hair was clipped behind her ears and twin pearl earrings hung from her delicate ears. She sat tall and straight at the table, sipping a cup of coffee with an air of satisfaction and comfort.
Mr. Wooster had just sat down across from her. I remained in the corner of the room, near the window so he could settle, a coffee pot in hand. Though I’d left him to dress himself with the intention of tarnishing her ladyship’s approval of him, to a point, I had difficulty not showing my shock at his chosen ensemble for the day. He wore his dark blue jacket with his brown pants and an apricot coloured shirt. The tie I do not remember packing. It was covered in stars. We’d been in such a rush he must have slipped past me. His hair was also extremely disorderly, he may have brushed it but that only increased its volume. I reminded myself it was part of a plan, a rapidly conceived plan, but intentional nonetheless. I was surprised, however, to find a part of myself, perhaps the part that had just been running their hands through those silken curls at the momentous point of orgasm not thirty minutes ago, found his haphazard appearance very appealing. I glanced furtively at Miss Muniz and saw her raise her chin slightly at his appearance but she made no comment.
Striving to keep a straight, expressionless, face I moved behind Mr. Wooster to pour his coffee for him after he’d turned over his cup.
“Thank you, Jeeves,” he said, blue eyes flickering upward to mine for the briefest of moments. I didn’t miss the tug of a covert smile on his face and prayed I wouldn’t blush.
“Did you sleep well, Aurelia?” he asked through an unlit cigarette he’d pulled from his silver case. He lit it swiftly and exhaled sharply.
Her eyes narrowed so slightly you would never have noticed, “Beautifully, I do so love the country. And you, Mr. Wooster?”
“Like a kitten. Purred the whole night through,” he took a sip of coffee through a large exhale of smoke, “Jeeves practically had to leap upon my prone unclothed form to rouse me for the day.”
I cleared my throat loud enough for him to turn to me, frowning.
“I’m glad he did,” she said, taking a small bite of a strawberry, “I’m very excited to take you riding today. Does he have riding clothes Mr. Jeeves?”
“I’m afraid not, madam,” I answered, setting down a plate of danish and fruit in front of Mr. Wooster, “Mr. Wooster has never ridden a horse.”
“Not true Jeeves, I have. When I was a boy, one of my school mates had a small stable of beasts. Invited me for a ride. He rode this lovely orangey fellow, legendary looking stead. And the poor blighter he reserved for yours truly was nothing but a spindly old brown thing. Reminded me of an old dead tree on the grounds of my childhood home. Really ought to have cut the tree down but I begged my parents not to because there were several families of squirrels living in it; couldn’t bear to see them dislocated,” he seemed lost in thought and puffed on his cigarette, presumably in requiem for the squirrels.
“It was an unpleasant ride?” she asked, snapping him out of it.
“As one would imagine. Old horse laid down for a nap mid ride, with me on him,” he frowned again,
“Or I hope it was just a nap, can’t fully remember,”
“How dreadful.”
Mr. Wooster took a large bite of danish.
“We will have to create a new, better memory of riding perhaps,” she said, “I’m sure the clothes you have on will be . . . fine,” she took her last sip of coffee. I moved to refill her cup, “No thank you,” she said, pushing the saucer away, “Jeeves, have him ready in fifteen minutes please, at the stable.”
“Yes, madam,” I nodded.
“And refrain from smoking please around the horses, it sets them illatease,”
“But I don’t know how to ride horses,” Mr. Wooster protested.
“I will teach you.”
“Do I at least have boots, Jeeves?” he asked me.
“I’m afraid I didn’t pack them,” I said and Miss. Muniz’s eyes shot to me with a sudden ferocity, “Sir,” I added, heart leaping into my throat.
“Alright then,” Mr. Wooster stubbed out his cigarette, “Let me finish my cup of coffee and by all means, lets ride,” he hunched over his plate and sipped at his coffee.
Miss. Muniz left the table but not before looking at me again, smiling slightly.
Bertie and I were walking to the stables together. It was still early in the day but the sun was strong and the temperature was climbing exponentially. I could smell the horses from here. Unheeded, in the unique way that smells can trigger from the deepest reaches of one's mind forgotten recollections, a memory from long ago came to the surface. I was just a small boy, standing atop a stool so I could watch my father brush his tall black horse. The horse’s name had been Thunder, he’d replaced Lightning to pull the cab. My father was showing me how to move the brush in tight circles to most effectively remove dust and sweat, “If you treat them right, give them an ounce of respect now and again, they’ll always bring you home” he’d said. I remembered the feeling of absolut reverence I had for my father, thinking him the wisest of beings. It was a time of youthful innocence when he thought I was capable of so much and I thought he was capable of anything. Made the awful shattering of reality that much worse.
“I may die, Jeeves,”
“There have been a significant number of medical advances in the past few years so there would be a real chance of recovery regardless of the injury.”
“I’m sorry that doesn’t help me feel any better,” he was smoking now out of nervousness, walking slowly, in no obvious rush to arrive, “I’ll be trodden upon, stamped, trampled, kicked in the head--it’s not like there’s a hospital right around the corner”
“No, too true. In that case I’m very grateful to have had the chance to spend those precious five minutes with you this morning. If we’d only had ten,”
He stopped walking, head rolling back with a loud groan of exasperation, “She’s trying to kill me! Why? What good would that do? I don’t want to marry her, or anyone, is that reason enough to murder?”
“If I may,” I said as he threw his cigarette to the ground and stomped on it, “We’ve accumulated only speculation at this point. Though we were hoping for answers the mere ambiguity and mystery may be enough to sully her reputation in your aunt’s eyes.”
“Great point,” he said, grabbing my arms in enthusiasm, “After all she’s the one that called her perfect to begin with,”
“Some very well maneuvered questions, about Miss. Muniz, may unsettle her from her renitent position.”
“Well she did drug you!” he nearly shouted, “That should be reason enough for god’s sake.”
“For me, certainly.”
“And for me!” he met my eyes in the bright sun, “You feeling alright?”
“Weary, certainly,” I answered, taking a moment to check in with my body, “Whatever substance it was must have been fast acting, I don’t believe it’s in my system any longer,” he seemed relieved, “In all other respects, it may be incongruous, but I feel . . . marvelous,” I frowned in thought, then looked to him with raised eyebrows, “Thanks entirely to you of course,”
“It is peculiar,” he agreed, “I should be as nervous as a fox being run down by beagles,” he met my eyes and I felt those invisible ties pulled taunt between us, “Three years, Jeeves,” his eyes shone the brightest blue in the sun, “Fear determined all,” he rocked up on his heels, “And, well, a fair amount of interference from aged relatives convinced they know the auspicious path, and, of course a general increase in waywardness, inebriation, indigence, and over all blueness on my part, correlated with the former, I reckon,” he shook his head, “When, really, I should have taken the chance the moment you walked through my door.”
“Would have saved a fair amount of time and tribulations,”
“Yes,” he agreed, shaking his head, “All those poor girls. Had they only known.”
“I can say now I don’t believe any of them were worthy of you.”
“Your disapproval was not difficult to note, Jeeves.”
“Perhaps not,”
“Positively steaming at times, like a bulldog really.”
“Really?”
He was standing closer to me and I desperately wanted to kiss him.
“Oh yes, it's all quite clear to me now, in retrospect.”
I really should have been encouraging him onward, we didn’t have much, if any, time and we were out in the open, “Clear to you?”
“Yes, in that clever little mind of yours you prognosticated our togetherness and couldn’t bear to see me being courted and or courting those girls.”
“I am grateful none of them seemed to stick.”
“I have particular tastes,” his eyes flickered down to my lips and he bit the corner of his mouth, “And now I know how you taste.”
“I’m exceedingly anxious to return the favour.”
“Well,” his eyes had taken on a devilish glint, “I’m at your mercy Jeeves,”
“Yes, you will be,”
I inhaled deeply and felt the air crackle for another moment between us before, my better judgment won out and I stepped backward, placing my hands behind my back, “The horses, sir.”
He seemed to shake out of it, “Yes, the horses,” his eyes dropped up and down my body one more time, “Right you are, Jeeves,”
I cleared my throat, “Keep your ears and eyes open,” I advised, “And do be careful, Bertie,”
“I’ll say the same to you, Jeeves, avoid all chocolate, what.”
“After you return there will be lunch with Mrs.Gregson and Miss Muniz.”
“Good lord,” he sighed.
“I shudder to think what sharpened words would be hurled our way should your aunt ever find out the nature of our dual relationship.”
“Tish-tosh, Jeeves, she loves you!”
I raised my eyebrows in disbelief, “I daresay not as a suitor to her nephew.”
He had begun to step backward, forcing distance being the only way for us to part in a timely fashion, “She could surprise us, so desperate she is to have me extradited from her worries. And there is no other person, apart from you, with whom she has the most unshakable faith,” he raised his hands to push me away, “Now go, out of my sight Jeeves, move man, I can’t look at your handsome visage any longer,”
“I’ll be sure to run a bath for you upon you return,”
He smiled and turned, striding quickly to the stable.
I first awoke still inside my dream. The fading, ruined backdrop of what must have been a nightmare began to fall away and I had the most disturbing sensation of crawling uphill through mud back into consciousness.
I didn’t immediately know where I was, any orientation to place and time were delayed, like a line being drawn back into a boat. About the first thing I was aware of was my head which was throbbing in pain. Secondly, according to my well honed internal clock, it was about 6:30 in the morning. My eyes adjusted enough to look out the eastern window and observed a pale blue and pink sky. The sun had just begun to rise. And thirdly, with much more difficulty, I remembered where I was. Not at home.
Details, regrettable details fell back into place like boulders in my mind. Mr. Wooster’s inexorable engagement, being drugged, intentionally or not, the fearful face of Muniz’s man that I could not explain, all a jumble of misarranged images and sensations. I frantically, and with sick bile in my throat, recalled my actions, which though outside my control, caused shame to seep darkly through the cracks and holes in my already unsteady memory. I desperately tried to remember all I’d said or done.
I rolled onto my back, pressing my fingertips into my temples with a groan. God, how embarrassing.Taking a deep breath I suddenly smelled--Mr. Wooster. Turning my head on the soft pillow I saw him next to me in bed. I’d never slept in such a large bed. He was curled on his side, facing me but not touching. My eyes remained on his still form for some time, transfixed by the steady rise and fall of his chest and the soft puffs of breath from his slightly open mouth. He’d crawled under the quilt on the bed but wasn’t under the sheets. He must have been trying not to wake me. Looking away from him for a moment I realized I was indeed just wearing my vest and pants. Memory of how I came to be undressed was not available. Had he done it? I looked to the side of the bed and saw my clothes on the floor. Yes he had.
Being constitutionally of an energetic nature, it was a rare sight for me to see Mr. Wooster in a true posture of repose, with no obligation to disturb, so often it was my duty to rouse him. I let him lie there for the time being, enjoying the morning sun slowly lighting his face. Traces of my memory of the night before, of polishing silver and an unexpected kindness, danced across my mind like light on water. He was truly and utterly beautiful.
I heard no sounds from other rooms or floors of the building which helped alleviate some of my worry at being caught. So used was I to being up before everyone else. But not today. Though I’m sure I’d slept deeply I felt poorly. My head continued to ache and my stomach was torn between being terribly nauseous and hungry.
Everything had changed. In a matter of days my predictable, small world, had been turned on its head. And though it would appear all I ever wanted, all I dreamed about, I wasn’t filled with solace and gratitude. How would my life, our life, look now? Was I up to taking this risk? Was he? I never considered myself a brave man. But I’ve tried to be a good man.
Glancing to the side of my bed I saw a large glass of water. I was suddenly devastatingly thirsty. Doing my very best not to move too quickly I sat up and, sitting against the headboard of the bed, I drank the whole glass in one delicious breath.
A small sigh next to me alerted me that my efforts to not wake him had been unsuccessful.
“Ugh,” he moaned, stretching out his legs, “Jeeves, what time is it?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,”
“Owls aren’t even to bed yet, why in God’s name are you awake?”
“Thirsty.”
“You need rest,” he groaned, eyes still closed as he kicked at the covers, “Stay,” once he’d kicked down the sheets, he slid closer to me and pulled them back over us both, settling deeply into the pillow next to me.
“What if someone comes looking for us?”
“The only person who would be looking for me at this hour is you. And you’re here,” he grumbled pointedly, throwing an arm over my waist and pulling me to him, resting his head on my chest, “Took me three years to loosen so much as your collar. Give it ten minutes Jeeves.”
“Perhaps you are right,” I answered, after a moment. Ten minutes, “I’m afraid it will be harder for me to relax. In general I have less trust in the universe being kind. Especially in a situation like this,” and in a gesture that still felt so new, so impossible, so inextricably exciting, I put my arm around him, letting him curl tighter into me. Despite all the trepidation, whether it was my compromised constitution or just being content in this moment, I wasn’t thinking about my current lack of personal grooming or appropriate attire, where normally I'd be self conscious I was unexpectedly unconcerned with him seeing me as I was. He seemed completely accepting, I’m not sure why I would have thought otherwise, but unavoidably I regard this all too human form, on most days, as bothersome and burdensome. I let a sigh leave my chest and closed my eyes again.
“I know,” he said with quiet understanding, “But we can pretend for ten minutes,” I felt him inhale deeply, “Good lord, you smell amazing. Your musk no doubt being one of the undignified-s, eh?”
“Musk?” I objected to the word but couldn't help but agree, “Yes, I am but an animal,” I let my hand stroke up and down his side, from the hardness of his hip bone, the rise and fall of his ribs, along the lean muscles of his back, “Of course, god forbid I let anyone see that inescapable fact. How unbecoming of a valet,” I held him closer, “Genetically I always imagined my whole family smelled the same. Of earth and wood and stone. No matter what I wear, or how I act, the generations of hard labor are written into my pores,”
“You wanted away from all that?” he asked softly, never having asked many personal questions before.
“Yes,” I answered, “More than anything,” I felt my heart beat faster, “And they wanted rid of me as well.”
“You should be proud of that. Setting your own path.”
“I am at times.”
One of his feet stretched to run down one of my own, curiously running his toes along the length of my foot, “I never felt I had the chance,” he paused, “Even if I did, not sure what I would have done with it.”
“You would have thrived, I know it.”
“Perhaps,” he had begun stroking my chest through my shirt until his fingers found a nipple which slowly started to encircle it, “Curious thing yesterday,” he said in a rapid change of subject, “This Aurelia woman, god, you couldn’t imagine, well, maybe you could, she’s the sort that raises the hairs on ones neck.”
“She was unkind?”
“Not at all. She was only kind. And only seemed partially interested in me, really.”
“What was she interested in?”
“Quite worldly actually. She spoke a lot of art and history and current affairs. Left me in the dust. Very unlike many of the potentials I’ve met.”
“Indeed. In combination with my experience yesterday it raises many questions,” my nipple had hardened under his fingers which seemed to delight him.
“She very well could be an ambitious, seize the day type person, nothing more, but I got the distinct impression she couldn’t care less about me,” he lean back so his eyes met mine and narrowed in a questioning expression, “She also hated me smoking, looked positively appalled by the action.”
“Her intentions are yet unknown. And I daresay you should indulge your tobacco habit at every opportunity.”
“Yes, you’re right. We will venture to figure it out today, Jeeves. She may have scouted me as an easy target but will rue the day she underestimated me. Particularly with our two heads together.” A small gasp escaped my lips as his teeth found my nipple through my shirt, “Curious reaction there,” he grinned up at me.
“I thought we only had ten minutes.”
“Five now, I reckon,” he suddenly, in one easy movement, rolled on top of me, stradling my hips.
“Five minutes,” I cleared my throat, “Should we really engage in, uh, physicality, when your relatives and your intended are within the same walls?” He raised his arms and took his shirt off, “My god,” I gasped, staring at his bare form on top of me, my heart beat screaming through my whole body. I’d of course seen him undressed before, in the bath or getting ready, but this was entirely different. I was able to actually look at him, noting every detail, naming him as I’d always wanted as absolute perfection to me. His chest was slightly flushed, light hair across his chest darkening as it moved downward to the sizable bulge under his pants. My own growing erection pressed into his thigh, “I am of course very eager to continue on from where we were so rudely interrupted, and far be it for me to deny that this exact scenario has not been the theme of many of my daydreams,” he began to tug at my own shirt, pulling it over my head somewhat roughly, leaving me naked and breathless before him, “Though that was without the considerable complications of your potential marriage to a woman with questionable motives and an aunt I feel is suspicious of me and my interference in your,” he lowered himself to kiss hard on the lips, slipping his legs between mine and lining up our hips so he could grind into me. The feel of skin on skin, our bare chest against one another, lighted every nerve in my body, causing my heart to leap with gratification and anticipation, “Your,” I groaned as he kissed my neck, rocking upwards so our erections met with enough pressure to put the tectonic plates to shame, “Your, oh god, Bertie,”
“You talk too much,” he said from my collar bone, hands mapping out every inch of the exposed flesh, fingers curling into the darker, thicker hairs on my chest, “One of the many things I would like to teach you, Jeeves, how to get out of that dashed head of yours.”
He began to kiss me and with every kiss he inched lower and lower and I began to shift and squirm under him. The soft skin to the inside of my hip bone elicited a sharp gasp and caused me to grip his shoulders, holding him still for a moment. My erection was clear and urgent under the thin fabric of my pants. He paused and looked up at me before releasing it. My hard cock sprung from its confines and I felt a spark of fear and insecurity. His eyes instead widened and his mouth hung open.
“Sir,” I said, lapsing into habits.
Looking up at me from between my legs, an image entirely too obscene and beautiful for my fragile mind to withstand, he asked in a throaty voice, “Can I make you cum? Please, let me do this for you.”
The question was enough to cause my balls to tighten. “Yes,”
He made no hesitation. His lips found the head of my cock, tongue circled and wet the tip with a hearty groan. One hand suddenly grasped me at the base and slid upwards over my whole length while his mouth met the head again, dripping with his saliva. The hot wetness of his mouth overwhelmed me, causing my hips to jerk upwards, knowing in every way possible that this was right and beautiful, it couldn’t be anything else, not when we were together. And suddenly he took all of me into his mouth and I cried out, immediately biting down on my own lip as he bobbed his head, the slick wetness and tightness running up and down my aching cock. Through hand and mouth and tongue, god his tongue, I felt the entire planet slip away. My hips rose into his mouth, unheeded, my breath became harsh, quickened.
“God god god, uh, uh,” as deep in his throat I felt myself tipping over the edge, “Nguh, Bertie,” I gasped, hand moving to his head, grasping his hair, god holding him to me. He hummed in affirmation and in two more bucks of my hips I spilled into his mouth, my vision turning white around the edges as I cried out, caught in the ebs, drowned in long lost ecstacy.
When I was finally ready to open my eyes I saw him licking his lips, crawling up to me, “Never underestimate a Wooster,” he said.
I guided the door closed behind me, softly settling it into its frame in order to make as little noise as possible in the dimly lit hallway of the mansion. I was forced, considering my state of outer and hygienic disarray, to look fervently up and down the rows of closed doors, ears stretched to catch the sound of an approaching footfall in case a rapid exit was necessitated. I’d put on the clothes I’d worn yesterday with great distress. They’d laid on the floor all night and were shocking to behold. I may have felt a more heightened level of self consciousness if it weren’t for the urgent need to right myself and return to my duties.
Satisfied by the vacancy of the hallways I ran my hands over my hair, trying to smooth it down with little success, and dashed down the hall to the servant’s stairway, down several floors to my own quarters. Safety in my room I was able to dress and clean myself to my professional and personal standards of togetherness.
I’d left Mr. Wooster to dress himself. He’d laid back on the pillows, watching me dress with satisfied glee, taunting me to return to the warm bed which part of me desperately wanted to, not for sleep, but to return the generosity he afforded me, to see his skin glisten and blush and for him to gasp out my name in rapture. I was desperate to find out what noises he made, what parts of his body were sensitive to my hands or tongue, how hard I could make him cum, how his skin would taste salty and his chest would heave and his blue, blue eyes would roll back into his head. We’d both known we had to return to our established roles though that undeniable fact didn’t stop me from stealing one last kiss from him.
Standing in front of the small mirror in my quarters, combing my hair, I couldn’t help but smile. In fact I felt completely incapable of not grinning idiotically. How could I not? When what had felt like the chains and boulders of a life never to be realized to its full potential were released, sinking to the depths as I raced to the surface and gulped fresh clean air again, and a heart near to the point of atrophy was gifted new life within my exhausted body. I have observed the effect romantic entanglement can have on the human male but never thought I would be so utterly susceptible. It was only with great effort that more discernible, prescriptive thoughts made it through the purely corporeal haze and into the present. I had to get down to the kitchen and check in with the rest of the staff.
When I was satisfied that I didn’t look as if I’d just come naked and breathless from my master’s bedroom I took a moment to look myself square in the eyes. The face that looked back at me, despite the years etched thereupon, suddenly appeared only as the young man leaving home so many years ago, unsure of himself, excited to work, to make something of himself, to leave the past where it was. The fearless are never brave, I’d told myself then, and I told myself the same now, letting that young unsure part of me be comforted by the older, hopefully wiser part of myself I’d grown into. Was being wise following your heart? I wasn’t sure.
I left the seclusion of that room and headed to the kitchen. When I got there I saw one woman and a younger man engaged in various breakfast related activities.
“Good morning,” I announced myself, reaching for an apron hanging next to the door. As I rolled up my sleeves I worried about not having taken a shower. Did I smell? God I want his smell all over me.
“Alright,” the younger man greeted from across the room. He was holding a stack of plates in his arms, “You’re with Mr. Wooster, are ya?” he was quickly moving out the door into the dining room so I wasn’t able to answer in the affirmative before he was gone.
“Don’t mind him,” the woman said from the stove as I finished tying the apron around me, “Always rushing about. He broke four plates yesterday--told him if he did that again I’d kick him dead,”
“Quite alright,” I assured, surveying the room. Porridge, fruit, coffee, tea and danish. A light breakfast. Everything cold was already plated and ready, the porridge remained. “Apologies for not being here sooner, Mr. Wooster was--”
“No need to explain, darling, they are all the same aren’t they, poor dears,” she sighed, stirring a large pot of porridge with one hand and running her sleeve over her brow with the other, “No disrespect of course.”
I raised my eyebrows, “Of course not,” I cleared my throat, “May I assist in setting up the table or may I help you here?”
“What a gentleman you are,” she smiled. She had a warm and hearty laugh. Her face was round and eyes bright. It pleased me to find someone friendly in the kitchen.
“Jeeves is it? I’m Mary, that bragard was my son Paul and my husband John has the table out there.”
“A pleasure meeting you all.”
“If you could lift this pot, love,” she stepped back, hand braced on her lower back, “My back’s gone out, I could use a break from the heavy lifting.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said stepping forward with several towels guarding my hands. “Where would you like it?”
“On the counter there,” she pointed, “Needs to be put in the tray there too, if you don’t mind. I need to rest for a tic,” she sat down on a nearby stool with a moan.
I lifted the large cast iron pot and put it down next to the fine silver tray, glancing to her still rubbing at her lower back and looking me over, “My, my, you’re a big one aren’t ya?”
“Taller than average,” I agreed, scooping the porridge into the silver.
“My John’s a small man,” she mused, “Course I’m a small woman,” she added, “Never bothered me, all four foot somethin of me, works out fine, really, he don’t steal all the covers at night, know what I mean?” she laughed again.
I smiled, unable not to think about Mr. Wooster and I sleeping curled up together, “Has your family been in the employ of the Muniz family for long?”
“Oh yes, for a stretch,” she thought a moment, “Paul was five years old when we started.”
Interesting, “How do you find it?”
“Not without its challenges,” she sighed, “Not easy getting old, pet, not that I want to complain, no, no, she’s been good to us, she has,”
“I’m glad to hear that,”
“Course it's different now with David and Benjamin gone, young lads they were, like yourself.”
“They moved on?”
“Not by choice,” she hung her head, “No, not by choice, poor boys were sacked not two weeks ago?”
“How unfortunate,”
“Hard workers too, not a bad thing to say about neither of them. Her ladyship has her strong opinions, as you rightly know. All she said was they reflected poorly on her, and sent them off. Think they ended up in France, last they wrote.”
“Certainly it means more work for your family,”
“Quite right it does. Paul don’t mind, he’s got all the energy on this green earth but my poorly body,” she shook her head.
“Does your lady know you are injured?”
“Oh she does,” she groaned, “Don’t you worry about it though, it’ll pass, I don’t want to complain.”
“But perhaps you need to see a doctor?”
“Maybe, maybe, “ she said in a distracted way, getting up after such a short rest, “M’lady doesn’t love doctors, prefers more natural remedies,”
“Natural?”
“Well, sort of, “ she limped forward, “Paul, get a move on with the tea!” she shouted, then at me, moving behind me back to the stove, her hands trailing along my back to steady herself, “Take that out there will yah, almost time,” she patted my lower back, “Strong lad, you are, how about that, John,” she said as if he could hear her, “We got a good one, here,” then back at me, “Welcome home,”
My eyes widened and I paused, tray in hand, struck by the small statement. Home? This wasn’t my home. I wouldn’t want to live here for another day let alone for the rest of my life. Nor would I want Mr. Wooster here. My home, my heart, I would hold close to me. And figure out a way out of this.
She wore a pale blue blazer, stiff white collared shirt and beige riding trousers. Her hair was clipped behind her ears and twin pearl earrings hung from her delicate ears. She sat tall and straight at the table, sipping a cup of coffee with an air of satisfaction and comfort.
Mr. Wooster had just sat down across from her. I remained in the corner of the room, near the window so he could settle, a coffee pot in hand. Though I’d left him to dress himself with the intention of tarnishing her ladyship’s approval of him, to a point, I had difficulty not showing my shock at his chosen ensemble for the day. He wore his dark blue jacket with his brown pants and an apricot coloured shirt. The tie I do not remember packing. It was covered in stars. We’d been in such a rush he must have slipped past me. His hair was also extremely disorderly, he may have brushed it but that only increased its volume. I reminded myself it was part of a plan, a rapidly conceived plan, but intentional nonetheless. I was surprised, however, to find a part of myself, perhaps the part that had just been running their hands through those silken curls at the momentous point of orgasm not thirty minutes ago, found his haphazard appearance very appealing. I glanced furtively at Miss Muniz and saw her raise her chin slightly at his appearance but she made no comment.
Striving to keep a straight, expressionless, face I moved behind Mr. Wooster to pour his coffee for him after he’d turned over his cup.
“Thank you, Jeeves,” he said, blue eyes flickering upward to mine for the briefest of moments. I didn’t miss the tug of a covert smile on his face and prayed I wouldn’t blush.
“Did you sleep well, Aurelia?” he asked through an unlit cigarette he’d pulled from his silver case. He lit it swiftly and exhaled sharply.
Her eyes narrowed so slightly you would never have noticed, “Beautifully, I do so love the country. And you, Mr. Wooster?”
“Like a kitten. Purred the whole night through,” he took a sip of coffee through a large exhale of smoke, “Jeeves practically had to leap upon my prone unclothed form to rouse me for the day.”
I cleared my throat loud enough for him to turn to me, frowning.
“I’m glad he did,” she said, taking a small bite of a strawberry, “I’m very excited to take you riding today. Does he have riding clothes Mr. Jeeves?”
“I’m afraid not, madam,” I answered, setting down a plate of danish and fruit in front of Mr. Wooster, “Mr. Wooster has never ridden a horse.”
“Not true Jeeves, I have. When I was a boy, one of my school mates had a small stable of beasts. Invited me for a ride. He rode this lovely orangey fellow, legendary looking stead. And the poor blighter he reserved for yours truly was nothing but a spindly old brown thing. Reminded me of an old dead tree on the grounds of my childhood home. Really ought to have cut the tree down but I begged my parents not to because there were several families of squirrels living in it; couldn’t bear to see them dislocated,” he seemed lost in thought and puffed on his cigarette, presumably in requiem for the squirrels.
“It was an unpleasant ride?” she asked, snapping him out of it.
“As one would imagine. Old horse laid down for a nap mid ride, with me on him,” he frowned again,
“Or I hope it was just a nap, can’t fully remember,”
“How dreadful.”
Mr. Wooster took a large bite of danish.
“We will have to create a new, better memory of riding perhaps,” she said, “I’m sure the clothes you have on will be . . . fine,” she took her last sip of coffee. I moved to refill her cup, “No thank you,” she said, pushing the saucer away, “Jeeves, have him ready in fifteen minutes please, at the stable.”
“Yes, madam,” I nodded.
“And refrain from smoking please around the horses, it sets them illatease,”
“But I don’t know how to ride horses,” Mr. Wooster protested.
“I will teach you.”
“Do I at least have boots, Jeeves?” he asked me.
“I’m afraid I didn’t pack them,” I said and Miss. Muniz’s eyes shot to me with a sudden ferocity, “Sir,” I added, heart leaping into my throat.
“Alright then,” Mr. Wooster stubbed out his cigarette, “Let me finish my cup of coffee and by all means, lets ride,” he hunched over his plate and sipped at his coffee.
Miss. Muniz left the table but not before looking at me again, smiling slightly.
Bertie and I were walking to the stables together. It was still early in the day but the sun was strong and the temperature was climbing exponentially. I could smell the horses from here. Unheeded, in the unique way that smells can trigger from the deepest reaches of one's mind forgotten recollections, a memory from long ago came to the surface. I was just a small boy, standing atop a stool so I could watch my father brush his tall black horse. The horse’s name had been Thunder, he’d replaced Lightning to pull the cab. My father was showing me how to move the brush in tight circles to most effectively remove dust and sweat, “If you treat them right, give them an ounce of respect now and again, they’ll always bring you home” he’d said. I remembered the feeling of absolut reverence I had for my father, thinking him the wisest of beings. It was a time of youthful innocence when he thought I was capable of so much and I thought he was capable of anything. Made the awful shattering of reality that much worse.
“I may die, Jeeves,”
“There have been a significant number of medical advances in the past few years so there would be a real chance of recovery regardless of the injury.”
“I’m sorry that doesn’t help me feel any better,” he was smoking now out of nervousness, walking slowly, in no obvious rush to arrive, “I’ll be trodden upon, stamped, trampled, kicked in the head--it’s not like there’s a hospital right around the corner”
“No, too true. In that case I’m very grateful to have had the chance to spend those precious five minutes with you this morning. If we’d only had ten,”
He stopped walking, head rolling back with a loud groan of exasperation, “She’s trying to kill me! Why? What good would that do? I don’t want to marry her, or anyone, is that reason enough to murder?”
“If I may,” I said as he threw his cigarette to the ground and stomped on it, “We’ve accumulated only speculation at this point. Though we were hoping for answers the mere ambiguity and mystery may be enough to sully her reputation in your aunt’s eyes.”
“Great point,” he said, grabbing my arms in enthusiasm, “After all she’s the one that called her perfect to begin with,”
“Some very well maneuvered questions, about Miss. Muniz, may unsettle her from her renitent position.”
“Well she did drug you!” he nearly shouted, “That should be reason enough for god’s sake.”
“For me, certainly.”
“And for me!” he met my eyes in the bright sun, “You feeling alright?”
“Weary, certainly,” I answered, taking a moment to check in with my body, “Whatever substance it was must have been fast acting, I don’t believe it’s in my system any longer,” he seemed relieved, “In all other respects, it may be incongruous, but I feel . . . marvelous,” I frowned in thought, then looked to him with raised eyebrows, “Thanks entirely to you of course,”
“It is peculiar,” he agreed, “I should be as nervous as a fox being run down by beagles,” he met my eyes and I felt those invisible ties pulled taunt between us, “Three years, Jeeves,” his eyes shone the brightest blue in the sun, “Fear determined all,” he rocked up on his heels, “And, well, a fair amount of interference from aged relatives convinced they know the auspicious path, and, of course a general increase in waywardness, inebriation, indigence, and over all blueness on my part, correlated with the former, I reckon,” he shook his head, “When, really, I should have taken the chance the moment you walked through my door.”
“Would have saved a fair amount of time and tribulations,”
“Yes,” he agreed, shaking his head, “All those poor girls. Had they only known.”
“I can say now I don’t believe any of them were worthy of you.”
“Your disapproval was not difficult to note, Jeeves.”
“Perhaps not,”
“Positively steaming at times, like a bulldog really.”
“Really?”
He was standing closer to me and I desperately wanted to kiss him.
“Oh yes, it's all quite clear to me now, in retrospect.”
I really should have been encouraging him onward, we didn’t have much, if any, time and we were out in the open, “Clear to you?”
“Yes, in that clever little mind of yours you prognosticated our togetherness and couldn’t bear to see me being courted and or courting those girls.”
“I am grateful none of them seemed to stick.”
“I have particular tastes,” his eyes flickered down to my lips and he bit the corner of his mouth, “And now I know how you taste.”
“I’m exceedingly anxious to return the favour.”
“Well,” his eyes had taken on a devilish glint, “I’m at your mercy Jeeves,”
“Yes, you will be,”
I inhaled deeply and felt the air crackle for another moment between us before, my better judgment won out and I stepped backward, placing my hands behind my back, “The horses, sir.”
He seemed to shake out of it, “Yes, the horses,” his eyes dropped up and down my body one more time, “Right you are, Jeeves,”
I cleared my throat, “Keep your ears and eyes open,” I advised, “And do be careful, Bertie,”
“I’ll say the same to you, Jeeves, avoid all chocolate, what.”
“After you return there will be lunch with Mrs.Gregson and Miss Muniz.”
“Good lord,” he sighed.
“I shudder to think what sharpened words would be hurled our way should your aunt ever find out the nature of our dual relationship.”
“Tish-tosh, Jeeves, she loves you!”
I raised my eyebrows in disbelief, “I daresay not as a suitor to her nephew.”
He had begun to step backward, forcing distance being the only way for us to part in a timely fashion, “She could surprise us, so desperate she is to have me extradited from her worries. And there is no other person, apart from you, with whom she has the most unshakable faith,” he raised his hands to push me away, “Now go, out of my sight Jeeves, move man, I can’t look at your handsome visage any longer,”
“I’ll be sure to run a bath for you upon you return,”
He smiled and turned, striding quickly to the stable.
