The Valet and the Stable Groom: M/M Regency Romance (11 page)

T
he day
of the garden party dawned bright and clear, and Clement was run off his feet from the moment he rose.

There were chairs to place, linens to spread, napkins to fold, Hildebert to dress, and dozens of minuscule tasks which all required his personal attention.

“That awful woman!” Letty exclaimed, as Clement walked into the garden to check that the table linens had been pressed to his satisfaction.

He glanced about, but saw Mrs. Ledford nowhere in sight.

Letty was gripping one of the delicate china plates in a high fury.

“Letty?” Clement asked. “Whatever is the trouble?”

“Jane specifically desired to use the pink china plates,” Letty said. “These are the gold. She has done this on purpose. She’s a…”

“Letty,” Clement said, taking the gold plate from her hands. “I’ll see to it. Go and dress Mrs. Devereux early, and put her in the front parlour so she may greet the guests. They may arrive earlier than is London custom, and it would be best if she were to greet them.”

Letty hesitated, eyes narrowed.

“I’ll see to it, Letty. Go.”

Not waiting to see if she obeyed, Clement took the gold plate and headed for the kitchens.

There were twice the usual amount of servants in the kitchen, several of whom Clement didn’t recognise. He supposed that Mrs. Ledford must have hired in some of the locals from the village to serve as staff for the event.

He wove his way through the kitchen, striving to stay out of the way of the cooks busy chopping and stirring as they prepared the delicate refreshments which would be served at the party.

Mrs. Ledford was near the back of the room, at the top of the steps which led to the cellar, as she ordered and conducted the army of servants bustling in and out.

“Mrs. Ledford,” Clement said, approaching her.

She looked at him, then down to the plate, and her eyes narrowed.

“Forgive my confusion,” Clement said, standing a little straighter under Mrs. Ledford’s irritated scrutiny. “I am certain I have misremembered, but I wished to consult with you, so as to ensure that everything is perfect. I had thought that Mrs. Devereux wished to use the pink plates, which would better complement the table linens.”

“She had,” Mrs. Ledford said. She took the plate from Clement, and marched swiftly over to a cupboard where she retrieved one of the pink plates in question. “But the original intent had been to use the gold, and Mrs. Devereux had already decided upon the menu before she was reminded of the pink plates. As I have explained to Mrs. Devereux…”

Striding over to a bubbling pot of pea-green soup, Mrs. Ledford held the pink plate over it. The juxtaposition of those particular colours was nauseating. Clement would never have let Hildebert out of the house in such a combination.

“Ah,” said Clement.

Mrs. Ledford handed the gold plate back to him. “The refreshments are themed pink and green, for the most part. They are designed to be displayed upon the gold plates. The pink ones would clash.”

“I understand completely,” Clement said, impressed by her competence and embarrassed to have questioned it. “Forgive me for my confusion, Mrs. Ledford. I see you have everything in hand.”

Nodding his head to her, he took the plate back to where it belonged.

“Who is it?” Letty called, when he knocked at the door to Mrs. Devereux’s chambers.

“Clement. About the plates.”

“Good! Come in.”

He pushed the door open without a thought, only to find that Mrs. Devereux was behind her dressing-screen while Letty bustled back and forth fetching articles of clothing.

“Heavens preserve me,” Clement muttered, averting his eyes.

“What did you find out about the plates?” Jane called, apparently unconcerned about his presence in her rooms.

Cheeks heated, Clement cleared his throat and tried to think of a polite way to extract himself from the situation. “It seems that you had designed the menu to be colours of pink and green which would go best with the gold plates. The pink ones would clash.”

“The pink ones are prettier,” Letty said.

“Oh, I do recall something about that,” Jane said. A naked arm extended from behind the screen, snatching up some article of clothing and retreating it.

Clement focused intently upon the pattern of the rug. “I confess that I agree with Mrs. Ledford. The gold plates are correct for the occasion.”

“Clement!” Letty exclaimed, in tones of betrayal.

“I’ve seen the colours. The meal would look unappetising upon the pink.”

“I understand," Jane said. "The gold will do. Thank you, Clement.”

Letty glared at him until he left.

When he went to get Hildebert dressed for the party, his employer was nowhere to be found. Clement checked the bedroom, the parlours, the sunroom, and even Hildebert’s study before it occurred to him that Hildebert would have gone—party or no—to the workshop.

Tightening his jaw in order to contain a groan of frustration, Clement trotted swiftly across the gardens to the workshop, where Hildebert was up to his elbows in some contraption. Clement’s irritation rose when he saw Hugo at his side, who had in no way managed to remind Hildebert that he had a party to attend.

“Sir,” said Clement, with a sharp glance of reprimand for Hugo. “You need to dress for the party.”

“The party?” Hildebert said. “Oh, there’s time yet. I want to get this finished, Clement.”

“Sir, your guests will begin arriving shortly,” Clement beseeched him.

“I know!” said Hildebert. “And I want to show them my invention!”

Clement bit his tongue on another groan. “Sir. It is a garden party, perhaps you shouldn’t…”

“Here, Clement, hold this.”

Hildebert placed a metal tube into Clement’s hand.

“Sir,” Clement repeated, itching to drag him bodily back to the house.

He was ignored.

“Might I suggest that showing the invention wait until some later time,” Clement said. “Perhaps once it is finished.”

“It is nearly finished,” Hildebert said.

“It would be an excellent reason to invite your guests back in the future,” Clement said. “You can tell them all about it. I am certain everyone will be very admiring of your prowess, and then you could arrange a formal exhibit of your creation, and give a proper demonstration. An exhibition, after all, is better suited to a gentleman inventor than the briskness of showing garden-party guests into a workshop.”

Hildebert paused to consider that. Clement prayed that the prospect of an appreciative audience at some future presentation would be enough to sway him into obedience.

“I suppose,” Hildebert conceded, “it would be nicer if it were neatly displayed. Velvet curtains, like a proper exhibition.”

“Nothing less,” Clement promised.

“The workshop is somewhat untidy,” Hildebert said. “Imagine if they might get the impression that I… that I worked! In a ‘work’-shop! Ha ha!”

“Terribly embarrassing,” Clement said, setting the metal tube down upon the table top and seizing Hildebert’s arm. “Quickly now, we must get you ready for your guests.”

“Yes, yes,” Hildebert said, setting his tools aside and going along with Clement, much more invested in the idea now. “They must think that I am a gentleman inventor, after all, so I must look the part. I am not some mere workaday engineer.”

“Quite so,” Clement said, hustling him along.

As they passed through the workshop door, Clement looked back.

Hugo’s expression was unreadable, perhaps perplexed.

Clement set his jaw and steered his employer through the door.

S
everal of the
guests had already arrived before Hildebert was ready, but the party was still in its early stages. Jane was at the front of the house, greeting guests and sending them through to the back garden. Clement ensconced Hildebert near the doors to the back garden, where he could likewise greet his guests and socialise with his new neighbours. Sharply-dressed servants with trays wove discreetly through the gardens, offering drinks and refreshments.

Gauzy clouds floated by above them, filtering the sunlight and ameliorating the soft blue of the sky, but the day remained warm and lovely. Clement made his way back and forth through the house and the gardens, making certain that all was in order and that each guest had anything they desired. Mrs. Ledford had done an impeccable job with the execution of the party designs, and all of the additional people she had brought on knew their business and responded swiftly to Clement’s commands.

It was nothing like a London party.

The dresses and suits of their guests were simple and plain country garb. A few of the more elegant guests, who could afford London houses in addition to their country residences, were dressed in attire which would at least not be turned away at the door of a fashionable London soiree.

Quite a few of the guests had come along with their entire family, including children as young as six. Clement strove not to grimace at the sight of a set of children racing along the border of the garden like wild young street urchins. They’d made no accommodation for the younger members of the party, who would typically be steered into a quiet parlour for entertainments where they wouldn’t bother the adults. Jane had preferred that they be allowed to explore and roam through the gardens at their leisure.

Once the guests had all arrived, they were seated at the long tables in the garden, and served on golden plates on white and pink linens. A breeze picked up, ruffling the hair styles of the women. This was, in Clement’s opinion, no great loss, as there were no awe-inspiring confections of hair dressing to be seen. The destruction of a proper London hair dressing would qualify as a significant tragedy. The group sentiment seemed to concur with this, as no one seemed especially distraught about the ruffling of artful curls and rustic crowns of braids.

It was only after supper, when the guests had been released to converse and explore through the gardens and a moderately skilled duo of musicians began to play, that Clement realised that Hildebert, once again, was missing.

“Letty,” Clement said, catching her elbow and giving her a smile to hide the urgency he felt. “Have you seen Hildebert?”

“What?” Letty had relieved one of the servers of his tray, and was sharing it with some of the other maidservants. “No, not since supper.”

Clement gave the tray a disapproving look, but decided against making a fuss about it.

He asked two other servants, neither of whom had seen anything, when he turned to find Mr. Busick near at hand.

“Mr. Adair,” said the old butler, nodding in greeting to Clement. “I do believe that Mr. Devereux and several of his guests went to his lordship’s workshop, to see some demonstration of his scientific prowess.”

“Oh, dear,” said Clement. “Do you know if Mr. Ogden is with him?”

“I’m afraid I’m not certain…”

“Mr. Adair!” A maidservant waved to him. “There you are, sir. Mrs. Ledford sent me to ask if you know where the doily-napkins for dessert have been placed.”

“I don’t,” Clement began, and then lifted his hand to his mouth. “Oh! Yes, they’re by the crystal wine goblets, I believe, in the side parlour, for the syllabubs.”

“But they can’t be used for the syllabubs, they’re needed for the—”

“Simply,” Clement interrupted, “tell Mrs. Ledford where they are.”

That was when the workshop exploded.

A wave of screams went through the guests in the gardens, followed by panicked chatter and cries of fire.

Clement ran.

Hildebert was in that workshop. His guests, likely including the nobility of the region, were in that workshop.
Hugo
was in that workshop.

Flames were licking up the front side of the building as Clement ran towards it. He vaulted an ornamental hedge and veered around an alarmed duck before he reached the front door. Flames licked up along the wall beside it. “Hildebert! Hugo!”

There was no reply, and the door would not give. It was locked or jammed. Another explosion rocked the interior. Clement ran around the side of the workshop to try the back door.

On the lawn behind the workshop, he found the coughing, soot-covered company of his employer and the guests. Hugo was helping one of them from the workshop. Setting the limping guest down upon the lawn, Hugo counted the rest. “That’s nine. We’re all safe. Clement?” He blinked and then smiled as Clement ran up to him.

“You’re unhurt,” Clement said, gazing at Hugo with worry and relief.

“I’m unhurt, though I think we might best betake ourselves farther from the burning building.” Hugo reached out, clasping Clement’s elbow, and then he quickly took his hand away. “Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. I’m only glad that you’re safe.”

Clement helped him as they attended the guests and Hildebert, moving them back toward the safety of the house. The party was largely unhurt, aside from one turned ankle and a wrenched knee, which was Hildebert’s. The workshop was burning in earnest, while the servants had begun to organise a system of carrying buckets of water from the pond to the burning building. Nearly half the assembled guests had engaged themselves in helping, which was something that Clement didn’t think he would ever have seen at a London party.

“Whatever happened?” Clement asked. He settled Hildebert in a chair where he could watch the ruckus and brought over a cup of wine from a nearby table.

“Oh, what a catastrophe!” Hildebert exclaimed. “I thought I’d had it all resolved, it was just the last few adjustments to make, you see. I had been telling Mr. Edswith—did you meet him?—about my progress, and the Perchilds, they were very interested, and then there was nothing to it but that I should show them, of course, so I did, and I had it all just as it is in the diagram, but when I engaged the motor, the whole thing began to shake alarmingly, and it would not disengage. That was when Hugo, you see, made the timely suggestion that we should all vacate the building, which we did, or nearly, and then! What a report! Oh, Clement, I do think I’m deaf.”

Clement thought that Hildebert did a very good job of answering spoken questions, for a deaf person. “A physician is being sent for, sir. He’ll see to you right away, not to worry.”