And I Am Happy (7 page)

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 have 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 should 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.

The lights were on as he came in the
servant’s entrance, even the lights in the kitchen, though there
was no sign of a disturbance. He could hear no laughter, or any
other indicator of a guest, but the flowers must have arrived
sometime during the day, and someone had put them out in the
entranceway. The house smelled of lilies.

Will went to the bedroom first, but it was
early yet, so seeing it empty did not surprise him. Seeing the bed
neatly made did. The bathroom floor had been cleaned as well,
though Will could see dried specks of shaving lather and felt his
shame anew.

With the rest of the house, save the
upstairs, unoccupied, he had one more room to check. He found his
master behind his desk in his study, staring down at an opened
book. He did not seem to be reading at all. He was not even wearing
his glasses.

“Was there anything you needed, sir?” Will
broke into his gentleman’s thoughts as meekly as he could but
Charlie lifted his head and stared at him so intently that Will
could not help shifting from foot to foot. An icy, anxious feeling
settled in Will’s stomach, along with a flutter. He should have
straightened his collar, smoothed down his hair, but it seemed one
morning of being a proper valet was all he could manage.

Not even that. Not even one morning. Will
would have lowered his eyes but something in his master’s gaze
would not allow him to.

“You came back,” his gentleman murmured, too
warmly considering Will’s mistakes. Will tried not to shiver.

“I am here as long as you need me, sir.” Will
could deny it no longer though it emerged on a sigh. “I am of
little help to you but I am here.”

“I could ask for no better help. You are
everything to me.” The words were low and heartfelt and created
another chill in Will’s stomach. Charlie straightened the moment he
spoke them, and tightened his mouth into a firm line. Will looked
away and then back to him. His eyes were stinging as they had that
morning. The chill would not leave him.

“Sir, you do not need to protect my
feelings.” Will could not stop trembling. “I cannot even prepare
your toast. I know nothing of politics. And I cannot stop thinking
of you, sir.” He swallowed a gasp to hear himself then gave a quiet
wail of despair. “I cannot control my tongue. Your sisters do not
care for me and rightfully so.”

“My sisters think the world of you.” Even
knowing him, knowing his gentle nature, his master’s scowl was
intimidating. His master pushed himself from his chair, sending it
rolling back from the desk. He put his hands out. “Where did you
hear otherwise?”

“Sir?” Will could not fully believe was he
was hearing. “Miss Ann said—”

“Ann credits you with my recovery, as do I.”
Charlie raised his voice. He stopped to clear his throat, then
directed his eyes at the wall. “You are not perfect but neither am
I. Your efforts are genuine and I could ask for no better help. To
know that you will be here every morning, even with just biscuits,
makes me want to get out of bed. That you admire my work so much
makes me work harder so I can be what you think I am. Will, I—”
Charlie ended his own words with a strangled cough and pushed one
hand flat against the surface of the desk. A few seconds later he
turned away. “I’m embarrassing myself. I apologise. If you wish to
leave your position, Will, I would not blame you.”