Thomas and the Society of Sentinels (14/15)
Chapter Fourteen
About two weeks after the family returned from Conclave, Thomas steeled himself to attend Tea in the Gallery. “You don’t have to do this, you know, if you aren’t ready,” his lordship said as they got ready to go down.
“I know, my lord,” Thomas said. Over the last couple of weeks, he had gradually moved his things back down to the dressing room and had come to spend most of his days with his lordship. He’d taken tea with both her ladyship and Lady Georgiana in their respective sitting rooms, and he’d accompanied his lordship and Lord Yernemuth on farm visits. Tea in the Gallery-Thomas was unable to think of it without capital letters-was the next step.
“And we can always leave early. Or you can leave early.”
“Yes, my lord,” Thomas said, straightening his blue-and-silver tie in the looking glass.
“Am I being overbearing?”
“Just a little, my lord.”
They went down. Most of the family-and their Guides-were already gathered. That day was a bit of a command performance, as her ladyship had indicated that she wanted to discuss preparations for Christmas; Thomas had decided to make the leap today in part because it would have been very obvious if he hadn’t.
Nearly everyone glanced over at them-particularly at him, Thomas thought-as they entered, and immediately tried to pretend they hadn’t been. He got his lordship settled in a chair, with an ottoman for his leg-and for Thomas to sit on-and went to the tea-trolley.
Margery happened to be there as well. “Good afternoon, Thomas.”
Apparently, someone had been spreading the word that he wasn’t “Mr. Barrow” anymore. “Margery,” he answered.
Shortly after he’d returned to his lordship’s side, her ladyship opened a very large appointment diary and introduced the subject of Christmas.
Thomas’s previous experience with preparing for Christmas in a great house had been largely confined to putting up decorations and serving somewhat more elaborate dinners as a footman. Now he learned how much more was involved. There was an extensive schedule of social and charitable events at which her ladyship felt the family had to be represented; these were apportioned out mercilessly and often over the vocal protests of his lordship and his father and siblings.
“The Warwicks’ ball,” her ladyship said.
“Not I,” his lordship and Simon both said immediately.
“I’m not going either!” said Lady Georgiana.
“Someone must,” her ladyship said.
In an aside to Thomas, his lordship said, “The local Insensate squire. It’s ghastly-they always invite more people than their ballroom can hold, and the music’s appalling. But Mama feels it would seem a snub if none of us went.” More loudly, he said, “We certainly can’t. Most of the people they ask will have never seen a Guide before. Thomas wouldn’t be comfortable.”
“I certainly can’t either,” Lady Georgiana said. “The last time we danced, the squire tried to put his hand on my backside.”
“I don’t like it any more than the rest of you,” Lord Simon said.
Thomas felt that his argument was the weakest, but the matter was put aside when Mr. Clement came into the room, followed by a very nervous-looking woman in a print dress and white apron.
“Agnes!” Margery said, getting up from her seat near Lady Georgiana. “What’s wrong?”
“Alice,” she said, and immediately burst into tears.
While all of the ladies and the women Guides went over to comfort the weeping woman, Mr. Clement gave the men a more concise account of the situation. “Her daughter is missing,” he explained. “It seems that many of the cottage children went out to the North Wood to gather Christmas greenery, and--”
“Bit early for that, isn’t it?” Lord Simon asked.
His lordship and Lord Yernemuth directed identical quelling glares at him, and Mr. Clement continued, “Be that as it may, the other children returned nearly two hours ago, but Alice Owens has not. Apparently the children split into several groups, and no one is entirely sure when Alice became separated from the others or where she might be.”
“How old is the child?” his lordship asked.
“Six,” Mr. Clement answered. “Mrs. Agnes is, understandably, quite concerned, particularly as it has started to snow.”
Thomas hadn’t noticed that, but none of the Sentinels seemed surprised. “We’ll have to mount a search,” Lord Yernemuth said. Thomas expected him to follow up with an order to arrange the male staff into search parties, but instead he said, “Clement, set up the largest map you can find in the library. We’ll assemble there once we’ve all changed into suitable clothing.”
Clement nodded. “I’ll have the kitchen prepare flasks of coffee as well.”
His lordship spoke up. “While you’re at it, send someone to the cottage for something with the girl’s scent on it. A nightdress or something. We’ll need it, if the whole North Wood was full of Guide children two hours ago.”
“You can’t mean to go,” Lord Simon said.
“Yes, I do mean to go,” his lordship answered. He glanced over at Thomas. “You don’t mind helping, do you?”
“Of course I don’t mind, my lord,” Thomas said, trying to think of how to point out that he wasn’t the problem here. His lordship was fairly nimble on his wooden leg on level ground, but a damp, icy forest full of rocks, undergrowth, and tree roots hardly qualified.
Before he could manage to find a tactful way of pointing that out, Lord Simon said, “With him or not, you can’t think it’s a good idea to go stumbling around in the woods in the dark.”
That was one way to say it, Thomas supposed.
“I don’t intend to stumble,” his lordship said, then stopped. Thomas could see the problem dawning on him.
“I had to fill in for you at the hunt,” Lord Simon pointed out. “And that was in daylight.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my eyes,” his lordship said.
“You could stay here and…coordinate the search,” Lord Yernemuth suggested. “Look over the map, and….”
“And then what, telephone you out in the wood? No. I’ll take a horse. Whoever you send to the cottage can stop at the stable and ask Clint to get Gypsy ready.”
Her ladyship and Lady Georgiana joined the group. “Gerald, are you sure that’s a good idea?” her ladyship asked.
“Yes. Thomas, do you want to ride as well? I expect we’ll be going rather slowly, so you can walk if you’d rather.”
Thomas thought he had better walk-if this went wrong in any of the myriad ways he could imagine, having two horses to deal with would not help matters. “I’ll walk, my lord,” he said.
“Right,” his lordship said. “Clement, take care of those things, please. We’ll meet in the library in-shall we say a quarter of an hour?”
Once they were up in his lordship’s room, away from Lord Simon, Thomas ventured, “Are you…sure this is a good idea, my lord?”
“Oh, don’t you start,” his lordship said irritably.
Thomas drew back in the act of helping him out of his jacket.
“I’m sorry,” his lordship said immediately. He sighed. “I’m not sure how much use we’ll be out there, but I’m going to be master here one day. I can’t be seen as a useless cripple.”
“Of course not, my lord,” Thomas said. He hadn’t thought of it that way. He remembered Lieutenant Courtenay, pushed aside by his younger brother because of his disability. That, surely, had been as much a motive in his suicide as the impending separation from Thomas and Lady Sybil. “Yes, of course,” he repeated, getting out his lordship’s warmest tweeds.
“Besides,” his lordship added as he changed, “My Army training should come in handy. Simon didn’t do the field course, since he was general staff. And this should be substantially easier than a night patrol, at least.”
Thomas couldn’t disagree with that-the squirrels were unlikely to be equipped with machine guns.
When they assembled in the library, Thomas was again surprised to see the ladies and their Guides, sensibly attired in heavy tweed walking skirts. He seemed to be the only one, however. After everyone had had a sniff at the little girl’s nightie-something Thomas tried not to think too hard about-Lord Yernemuth allotted a section of the wood to each Sentinel, making no distinction as to sex apart from assigning the ladies the sectors closest to the house. Mr. Clement handed out electric torches and the promised flasks of coffee, and they set out.
There was a light coating of snow on the ground, and his lordship’s crutches slipped more than once on the way to the stable. Still, he seemed undaunted, and Thomas resolved not to raise any more objections. Matters improved once his lordship was in the saddle. They had to cross a field to get to their assigned section of wood, and the ploughed ground gave decent footing for both Thomas and the horse. The nearly-full moon reflecting off the snow made it fairly easy to see.
When they got to the edge of the wood, his lordship shuffled the reins into one hand, held the other out toward Thomas, and said, “I’m going to need a link.”
For a second, Thomas thought he meant a cufflink. He’d nearly forgotten about the Sentinel kind of linking-despite the fact that his being able to form one with his lordship was such a big deal, he hadn’t actually done it since the day they’d met. He took his lordship’s hand.
His hand tingled and his ears clogged. From his lordship’s direction, he got an impression of worry and affection. They stood like that for a long moment, until the horse started stamping her hooves and switching her tail.
When his lordship let go of his hand, Thomas wasn’t entirely sure what he’d been doing, but his lordship seemed to have gotten something out of it.
“This way, I think,” his lordship said, picking up his reins and indicating a path with a nod of his head.
Once they entered the woods, matters were not nearly so easy. The path was narrow and-as Thomas had suspected-obstructed with rocks and roots. The overhanging trees blotted out most of the moonlight and dripped icy water onto them, along with the occasional clump of heavy, wet snow. Stumbling along in the wake of the horse, trying to stay close enough to see it without being kicked, Thomas reminded himself frequently that the fact that it was dark, cold, and generally unpleasant were also the reasons that a six-year-old girl had no business being out here.
After what seemed like an eternity, his lordship called a halt. The linked again. This time, Thomas noticed his lordship turning his head slowly from side to side-listening, or maybe smelling. Dropping Thomas’s hand, he said, “Hold the horse, would you?”
Thomas made his way around to the front of the horse-slipping once on an icy rock-and caught hold of the bridle.
His lordship unhooked the flask from his saddle, saying, “She’s definitely been through here-I can smell it-but I can’t tell when. If she’s nearby, she isn’t making a sound.” He poured some steaming coffee into the flask’s lid, adding, “God, I’m freezing.”
“Do you think she’s….” Thomas couldn’t finish that sentence.
His lordship shook his head. “There’s a stream about a quarter-mile that way.” He pointed. “Not frozen over; I can hear it running. If she fell into that…well.”
Thomas knew, from his medical training, that even if it wasn’t cold enough to kill on its own, being wet could make all the difference. He wondered if the girl had a sturdy coat and shoes-without them, she might be dead even if she hadn’t fallen into the stream.
Finishing the coffee, his lordship refilled the cup and handed it down to Thomas.
Once his lordship had taken the reins back up, Thomas wrapped both of his hands around the warmth of the cup. He could remember having been colder-the two winters he’d spent in France, for example-but that didn’t mean he was used to it. His own shoes weren’t really meant for dealing with wet snow, though his coat was all right.
All too soon, Thomas finished his share of the coffee and they moved out again. “The scent’s stronger here,” his lordship said after perhaps a quarter-hour of miserable slogging. “Call out, and I’ll listen.”
Thomas opened his mouth, then realized he’d forgotten the child’s name. “What’s the girl called?”
“Agnes-no, that’s the mother. Alice.”
“Alice!” Thomas called. “Alice!” It seemed like he ought to say something else-would a six-year-old lost in the woods answer some strange man bellowing her name? Depending on what sort of fairy stories her parents told her, perhaps not. “Alice! Your mum sent us to take you home!”
“Stop,” his lordship said, and held out his hand. Thomas took it. This time, the link lasted for only a few seconds before his lordship dropped his hand and said, “This way.”
#
They had to pause twice more for Gerald to link with Thomas, listen for the girl’s weak cries, and adjust course, but finally they found her, huddled next to the trunk of a tree, shivering. She looked up at them, her teeth chattering too hard for her to speak.
Gerald gathered his reins into one hand and slipped his foot from the stirrup. But before he could dismount, Thomas stopped him with a wordless sound.
“What?” Gerald asked, looking over at him.
“If you get off the horse, my lord, I’m not sure how we’ll get you back on.”
He was right, of course. Focused on the search for the girl, he’d quite forgotten about his leg. His remaining foot was so numb that he couldn’t feel it, either. He’d probably have remembered before he brought his stump over the saddle, but perhaps not. “Yes,” he said, “Yes, you’re right. Alice, we’re here to help you,” he said as he unbuckled the flask from the saddle-he’d reserved a bit of coffee for just that eventuality. “See if you can get that down her,” he told Thomas. “And wrap her in this,” he added, handing over an extra coat that Clint had thought to bundle behind the saddle.
Thomas crouched next to the girl and wrapped the coat around her shivering frame. She seemed to take that as an invitation to huddle into his embrace; Thomas soon ended up sitting with her in his lap, looking rather startled by this outcome. Still, he rallied and started opening the flask, chiding her as he did so. “-gave everyone quite a scare, getting lost like that, Miss Alice. Your mum was that upset, and now all them from the big house are out looking for you. Shouldn’t wonder if you get a right thrashing when you get home….”
Fortunately, the girl didn’t seem to take much notice of what he was saying. When Thomas finally got the cap off the flask-his hands were shaking with the cold, too-he held it to her lips. She drank briefly, then drew back. “It’s bitter,” she said.
“I know it is, but it’s hot. Sort of. Drink it anyway.”
Seeming not to mind his brusque manner, Alice drank. Once she had done so, Thomas started to stand up. Alice clung to his neck, but Thomas tried to put her down. “No, you have to walk-you’re too big a girl to be carried.”
Gerald was about to suggest that she ride with him, but the girl spoke first. “I can’t, my foot’s hurt. I was climbing up to get the mistletoe, and I fell. That’s why I couldn’t go home. My foot’s hurt,” she repeated, and started to cry.
Thomas shot Gerald a look of desperation; he shrugged, not entirely sure what to do about a crying child either.
“All right, let’s have a look, then,” he said, setting her back on the ground. “I was a medic in the war; I saw lots of people with their feet hurt.” Once he’d gotten Alice to bring her leg out from under her skirt, Gerald saw that she’d taken off her shoe-probably quite sensibly, as the foot was very swollen, but there was no chance of getting it back on now. “Oh, that’s nothing,” Thomas said, probing at it gently with his fingers. “If you were a soldier, we wouldn’t even send you home for a little thing like that; just give you an extra rum ration and back to your post.”
Alice giggled through her tears at that.
“Except I expect we can’t go giving little girls rum, so I suppose you’ll have to go home after all,” Thomas continued, taking off his muffler and wrapping it around her foot. “I think you’ll have to ride on the horse with his lordship,” he added, glancing up at Gerald, who nodded. “He hurt his foot, too. Bit worse than yours. Up you get.”
He boosted Alice up into Gerald’s arms. She huddled against him, a cold, shivering little bundle. Gerald got her safely arranged while Thomas hooked the flask back onto the saddle and they set out. “We’ll take this track back out into the field,” Gerald said, turning Gypsy’s head. “It’s a bit further, but the going’s easier.”
Thomas nodded. Now that Alice was safe, Gerald noticed how cold and tired his Guide looked. Well, naturally-he’d been slogging along in the wet while Gerald had a comparatively easy time of it up on his horse. Perhaps he should have insisted that Thomas ride after all, when he’d noticed that Papa had assigned them the farthest section of wood. “Are you all right, Thomas?”
Thomas nodded wearily. “Yes, my lord. Got a bit of a chill sitting on the ground, but we’ll be in the warm soon enough, won’t we?”
“Yes, we will.” If Thomas had been on a horse too, they could have urged them on faster and gotten both Thomas and Alice-not to mention Gerald himself-warmed up that much more quickly. He briefly considered having Thomas get up on Gypsy behind him, but even for a short ride, that would be too much weight for the small mare.
And when they got out to the field, Gerald found that the footing was worse than it had been-a crust of ice had formed over the powdery snow, and both man and horse stumbled often. They couldn’t have gone much faster in any case.
After one stumble in which Thomas nearly went down, Gerald suggested that he steady himself on the stirrup leather. Thomas looked for a second as though he wanted to spurn the offered assistance, but then nodded and took hold of the stirrup leather, his hand just behind Gerald’s knee.
As they went along the edge of the wood, Gerald occasionally called out, telling the other Sentinels that the girl had been found. “Will we have to go back out and round them all up?” Thomas asked after one of these instances.
“No,” Gerald said. “We’ll have someone ring the fire-bell when we get back; even if they haven’t heard me, they’ll hear that.”
Despite all the shouting, Alice had nearly fallen asleep in Gerald’s arms by the time they reached the cottage, but she woke as Gerald handed her down to Thomas. “Mummy?” she said, seeing her home.
She tried to get free of Thomas-thinking to run inside to her mother, Gerald supposed-but Thomas held on to her. “Remember your foot, Alice.”
“Mummy! ” Alice howled.
The cry pierced Gerald’s ears, and it must have been quite loud to Insensate ears as well; the cottage door opened and Agnes rushed out.
Transferring her from his own arms to those of her mother, Thomas explained about Alice’s foot. “It doesn’t look bad-either a sprain or a minor break-but I’d have a doctor look at it. We can telephone from the house, I expect,” he added, with an inquiring look at Gerald.
“Yes, we’ll do that,” Gerald said.
“Morning should be soon enough,” Thomas added. “In the meantime, just get her warm and dry.”
Agnes nodded. “Yes, thank you-thank you, your lordship,” she added. “Do you want to come in and warm yourselves? I’ve the kettle on.”
“We’d better not,” Thomas said. “His lordship doesn’t have his crutch with him.”
“And Clint would have my head if I kept this horse standing outside while we got warm,” Gerald added. “Look after your daughter, and we’ll look after ourselves.”
Agnes thanked them again. “And please thank all the ladies and gentlemen for me-I don’t know what we would have done,” she added, kissing her daughter.
“Mummy!” Alice said suddenly, her face crumpling into tears again. “All my greens! We left them!”
“Darling, don’t worry about that!” Agnes said.
“But now the house won’t be pretty for Christmas!”
“I’m sure it will be beautiful with Alice in it,” Gerald said, privately resolving that when the gardeners brought their Christmas greens, he’d have them take a few down to Agnes’s cottage.
#
Thomas was nearly too frozen to be amused by the way Clint fussed over the returning Gypsy. After hearing that Alice had been safely found, all his attention was for the horse; Thomas had scarcely gotten his lordship out of the saddle and supported on his crutches before Clint was leading her away, telling her that he’d prepared a warm bran mash and would give her a rub-down while she ate it in her nice, warm stable.
At the moment, Thomas wouldn’t have minded being a horse. Something hot to eat and a rub-down sounded just about perfect at the moment.
Still, he should be able to get at least one of the two when they got up to the house. And a bit of a rest next to the bedroom fire.
Suddenly, all of the things about Sentinels and Guides that he’d gotten used to, but never really understood, made sense. After a taxing experience like this one, no reasonable master would have expected him to continue with his duties-seeing his lordship dry, warmed, fed, and tucked up in bed-before doing any of those things for himself. But nor did he want to leave his lordship in someone else’s care while he went off to another part of the house and took care of himself.
The way that Sentinels did things meant he didn’t have to. He’d change his lordship into some dry clothes, and then himself, quite naturally since their clothes were all in the same dressing room. Then they’d both warm up by the fire, and likely someone would bring hot drinks and supper for them both. Right now, after they’d both been stumbling around in the woods on a rather important-nearly heroic-errand, the intimacy of it seemed entirely appropriate.
Because what they had been doing, just now, that was what Sentinels were for. They weren’t just toffs who happened to have heightened senses. On an ordinary day, that was all they were-but in an emergency, they were something else. A search party of village men with electric torches, led by the local police, might have found the girl eventually-but perhaps not soon enough. And in the days before electric torches and village bobbies, she’d have been done for.
And in the days even before that, when hunting was for food instead of sport, the same abilities that let them find Alice tonight would have meant that any community that supported a Sentinel or two would be much better-fed than its neighbors. And, he remembered his lordship saying, they had been war leaders. Thomas still wasn’t sure what use they’d been in a modern war, but in the days of swords and bows, the advantages would have been incalculable.
Provided, that is, that the Sentinels had Guides. Without them, at least going by his lordship’s example, Sentinels were essentially invalids. With them, they were able to do things ordinary people couldn’t.
And that was why Guides weren’t treated like servants-because they weren’t. They did the work of servants sometimes, because a man had to work, even if the Sentinels were largely idle these days. But that was just a way of keeping busy. Really, Guides were….
Thomas tried to think of some parallel from his old life, but couldn’t. That was rather the point, he supposed. They were Guides.
These thoughts took him to the front door and beyond, where he listened with half an ear to his lordship asking Clement if the others had returned, and giving orders about having the fire-bell rung and sending trays up to his room and so forth.
“Are you all right, Thomas?” his lordship asked as they started up the stairs.
“Yes, my lord,” he said automatically. “I’ve just been thinking. It’s quite a good thing that we found Alice when we did.”
“Yes, the weather’s getting worse by the minute. She’d not have lived until morning.”
“I suppose-it isn’t just because she’s a Guide that we went out after her.” Thomas had thought that before, but now he wasn’t so sure.
“No-it might have taken a village woman a bit longer to decide to trouble us. But the bobby would have called on us eventually. Sentinels are useful for that sort of thing. Searches and so on.”
“I’d noticed,” Thomas said.
“Not that such a thing comes up terribly often,” his lordship added as they neared the top of the stairs. “More often it’s lost livestock, and we wouldn’t put ourselves to quite so much discomfort over that. But we ought to do something, in return for the county putting up with our funny ways.”
They entered the bedroom, where a fire was burning cheerfully in the grate. His lordship lowered himself into one of the chairs before it, wet clothes and all. Someone had thoughtfully put several thick towels to warm on a towel-horse before the fire. After handing one to his lordship, Thomas stood and warmed his hands over the fire.
“You can sit down, if you like,” his lordship pointed out.
“If I do, I won’t want to get up again, my lord. Do you want a bath, or just dry clothes?”
“A bath, I think-oh, no, better save the hot water for the ladies. Just pyjamas and my dressing gown, I think. But no hurry; I’m thawing out quite nicely here.”
“Yes, my lord.” Noticing that his right hand was warming up considerably more quickly than his left, Thomas peeled off the sodden glove, and noticed an immediate improvement.
Once his fingers had thawed, he sat down on the hearth-stone and took off his shoes. They were soaked through, and his socks as well. Thomas knew he ought to do something about it-the shoes were likely to end up ruined no matter what-but he certainly didn’t want to. As he toweled off his feet, he contemplated taking his shoes down to the boot-cleaning room to stuff them with newspaper and apply leather conditioner and all the rest of it. It seemed like a ridiculous amount of effort for something as inconsequential as shoes.
“Shall I get yours, while I’m down here?” he asked, nodding towards his lordship’s foot. He was wearing a sturdy boot and hadn’t spent much time on the ground in any case, but it would have to come off sooner or later.
“You might as well,” his lordship said.
His lordship’s foot was pale and cold, though not quite as wet as Thomas’s own. He dried it with another of the towels.
Suddenly, sitting there almost as his lordship’s feet, Thomas became acutely aware of his lordship as a man. A man whose foot he had in his lap. Above that foot was a leg, and above that….
Thomas cut that thought off quickly. Some things did not mix well with damp trousers. “There, I think that’s better,” he said, putting his lordship’s foot back on the hearth-rug. Collecting his shoes and his lordship’s boot, he stood and took them into the dressing room, where he dumped them in the corridor for the boot-boy, who would either manage to properly care for them or he wouldn’t; at the moment, Thomas didn’t much care which.
He gathered his lordship’s pyjamas and dressing gown and took them back to the fireside-it would be easier and more comfortable to just dress him there than to get him back up on his crutches to come into the dressing room.
With his new awareness of his lordship’s body, undressing him was both a delight and a torment. Thomas found himself noticing the play of the firelight on his skin, the way the use of his crutches had defined the muscles of his shoulders and remaining leg. The stump, too, was not the pallid, atrophied thing it had been when Thomas first saw it in London. He must have used it a bit when he rode.
Beyond that, Thomas didn’t quite dare look, and averted his eyes as he helped his lordship into the pyjama bottoms. Helping him into the dressing gown seemed a bit safer, since it mainly involved the top half of the body. As he did that, Thomas took the opportunity to slip his hands over his lordship’s shoulders in something that was not quite a caress, but skirted the edge of that liberty.
His lordship turned his head to look at him, his expression soft and affectionate. He was very nearly close enough to kiss, and Thomas was wavering on the edge of leaning in to do just that when his lordship suddenly turned his head back to the front. “Clement’s coming with our supper,” he said.
“Yes, my lord,” Thomas said, stepping away from him and gathering the discarded clothes. There was no sign of Mr. Clement yet, but Thomas was sure that his lordship must have heard him, even if from some distance away. What he wasn’t sure of was whether his lordship found the interruption welcome, or…not. Did he hope-as Thomas did-that they could pick up where they’d left off once Mr. Clement had been and gone?
Thomas took the clothes into the dressing room and hung them. While he was in there, he took the opportunity to change into his own pyjamas and dressing gown, hanging up his clothes as well. There would be a great deal of brushing and ironing to do tomorrow, but he’d let tomorrow worry about that. As for tonight, he had other things on his mind.
By the time he returned, Mr. Clement was setting up a simple supper on a folding table between the two fireside chairs. “-yes, acquitted himself quite nicely,” his lordship was saying. He looked up at Thomas with a warm, fond smile.
“I’m sure Agnes must be relieved,” Mr. Clement said.
“Oh, yes, I’m sure. It could have ended rather badly, but all seems to be well now.”
“Will there be anything else?” Mr. Clement asked.
“No, I expect after we’ve eaten we’ll go to bed.”
It was a perfectly innocent remark-there was nothing in it to imply that they would necessarily be going to the same bed-but for a second, Thomas thought that Mr. Clement heard it the same way he did. “Very good, your lordship,” he said, and bowed himself out.
The supper consisted of tea, stew, and bread. It looked like something they’d have served in the servants’ hall, but Thomas supposed that whatever had been planned for the upstairs dinner wouldn’t have held over quite so well. Perhaps those of the staff who hadn’t been involved in the search had eaten it, whatever it was.
As they ate, Thomas’s…awareness…of his lordship didn’t fade, but his lordship carried on as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening, speaking only of things like how good the stew was and how glad he was that Alice was all right. Thomas began to wonder if he had misread, or entirely imagined, what had passed between them. Or even if he had read it rightly, if his lordship had thought better of it.
Thomas didn’t think so, but he’d been wrong about things like that before. He wasn’t sure how to find out more certainly. He tried putting his hand well within reach in case his lordship wanted to hold it, but he didn’t.
Didn’t hold Thomas’s hand, that is. Thomas still didn’t know whether he wanted to.
He still wasn’t sure by the time they finished eating. “I suppose I should take the supper things down,” Thomas said. Getting a bit of distance would be good, if his lordship wasn’t interested.
On the other hand, Thomas wasn’t too keen on going downstairs half-hard and in his pyjamas. It was not entirely discreet.
“Just put it on the sideboard,” his lordship suggested. “I’m sure Clement will come back for it.”
“Yes, my lord,” Thomas said, making sure his dressing gown was securely tied before standing up.
“On second thought, perhaps you’d better put it in the passage,” his lordship said. “So he doesn’t have to come in.”
Again, that remark could have been innocent. Thomas glanced at his lordship, examining his face for any signs that he was hoping they might soon be engaged in some activity requiring privacy.
Unfortunately, the portions of his body that would have given a better clue were still hidden by the table, and even once Thomas had removed that, by his own securely-tied dressing gown.
Thomas spent a little time arranging the supper things back on the tray, and arranging his thoughts at the same time. His lordship could hardly be shocked to discover that Thomas was interested in him, even if he didn’t feel the same way. He knew full well what Thomas had been arrested for, after all. And while he’d given no overt expression of interest in sex, he clearly liked touching Thomas, and had alluded more than once to the hope that they would become close. So he wasn’t likely to be horrified by the idea, either.
In fact, given that he could smell when Thomas was unhappy, it seemed rather unlikely that he didn’t have at least some idea of what was on Thomas’s mind. But he hadn’t said or done anything about it. Did that mean that he wasn’t interested?
Or, given their earlier misunderstandings, did he simply not want to act on his knowledge of Thomas’s feelings before Thomas had indicated that he wished him to?
Thomas hoped very much that it was the latter, but it would make things very awkward between them if he was wrong, and if his lordship had to tell him point-blank that he wasn’t interested in intimacies of that sort. So he had to do something that was clear, but would allow for some pretense of misunderstanding if his lordship wasn’t interested. Easier said than done. After putting the supper things out in the passage, he paused by the sideboard and asked, “Would you like a drink, my lord?”
“Please.”
Thomas fixed one, and another for himself. Returning to the fireside, he wished that the chair he’d been sitting in had somehow disappeared in his absence. He’d have rather liked to sit on the hearthrug, within touching distance of his lordship. If he didn’t touch him, then, Thomas would have his answer.
And if he asked him to suck his cock while he was down there, Thomas would still be in a position to take advantage of that pretense of misunderstanding.
The chair stubbornly refused to disappear. Still, Thomas realized, its continued existence didn’t precisely oblige him to sit in it-thought it did make the pretense of misunderstanding even thinner.
But it would have been bloody thin to begin with. Handing his lordship his drink, Thomas threw caution to the wind and sat on the hearthrug, leaning against his lordship’s chair near where his right leg would have been, if he’d had one. When his lordship didn’t object, he shifted just a little to the left, so that his shoulder brushed his lordship’s knee.
“Oh,” his lordship said. After a moment’s hesitation, his free hand settled on Thomas’s shoulder, saying inanely, “That’s rather nice, isn’t it?”
He might have been talking about the drink, or the fire, but Thomas suspected he wasn’t. “Yes, it’s nice.” As he grew more relaxed with drink, he leaned more and more into his lordship’s leg. Finally, once Thomas was practically sprawled across his lap, his lordship began stroking his hair.
That, he thought, was sufficiently unambiguous to satisfy anyone. Now that he knew where things were headed, he was in no particular hurry to get there. All of his other encounters had been, necessarily, rushed. Even with the Duke of Crowborough, though they’d had the advantage of a bedroom, he’d had to make sure they were finished before he was missed.
He lolled there, his eyes half-closed, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the feeling of his lordship’s hand in his hair. He thought for a bit about the contrasts between this moment and the cold and misery of a few hours before…and between his lordship and his grace…and between this, and even his fondest hopes of what might have happened with Jimmy. He also thought more than a bit about what they might do next. He certainly wasn’t averse to the idea of sucking his lordship’s cock, if he was asked nicely. Actual buggery seemed like a bit of a leap, even if it was legal. Perhaps they could just rub up against each other-he always liked that, even if it was a bit messy.
Besides, it didn’t matter if it was a bit messy, since no disaster would ensue if they were found out. Thomas wasn’t particularly keen on the entire house knowing what they’d been up to-or what he hoped they would soon be up to-but it didn’t really matter if anyone suspected.
He could even, he thought, fall asleep in his lordship’s bed. What a thrilling thought that was.
“This is very nice,” his lordship said again. “Thomas, I wonder if-I hope I’m not getting ahead of myself. But I wonder if I could kiss you?”
“Of course you can.”
The mechanics of it were a bit difficult to work out. His lordship couldn’t stand easily, and leaning over him was all right for a quick brush of the lips-more than all right; Thomas decided, it was fantastic-but it was going to hurt his back if he did it much longer. He didn’t much like the idea of sitting in his lordship’s lap, either; it seemed entirely too girlish. Finally he perched on the arm of the chair, where their nearly-equal heights put him a bit too high up, but it was good enough.
Next time, he thought, they’d do this on the sofa.
After some time, his lordship drew away, breathing hard. “Can we-what else can we do?”
“What do you want to do?” Thomas countered.
“I…don’t know. I don’t really have much experience with this sort of thing,” his lordship admitted.
“What about Euan?” Thomas asked-rather tactlessly, he realized after he’d said it.
“We didn’t-he was like my brother. We didn’t.”
Oh. Thomas absorbed that for a moment, realizing again how many of his assumptions had been wrong. “Well, then,” he said, with a smile of genuine pleasure, “I’ll have to show you.”
#
Some time later, Gerald propped himself up on his elbow, looking down fondly at Thomas, who was stretched out on the bed next to him. The recent part of the evening had been something of a delightful surprise. Thomas’s arousal had been obvious, but Gerald had thought it might take several months for him to feel ready to do anything about it. And if he’d wanted to be coaxed into it-well, that might have taken years, given Gerald’s reluctance to pressure him.
He hadn’t quite realized that in that area, Thomas was much more a man of the world than he was. It was rather difficult not to be jealous of his earlier lovers-whoever they were-but Thomas seemed to be every bit as skilled and confident in bed as he was in the dressing room.
Gerald didn’t know what they would have done, if he hadn’t been. He knew about buggery, of course, but it had always sounded a bit alarming. Thomas assured him that it could be quite enjoyable if you had the knack of it, but had found plenty of other enjoyable things for them to do, this first time. On the surface of it, what they’d done didn’t seem much different from things he had done by himself-and which, when he’d been about fifteen, his father had gruffly informed him wouldn’t cause him to go blind or feebleminded, no matter what Insensate physicians said. But sharing those pleasures made them so much better, somehow.
Feeling the weight of his gaze, Thomas stirred. “What’re you looking at?” he asked sleepily.
“You,” Gerald said, bending to kiss him.
Once they’d parted, Thomas said, “You’re all right, then?”
“Never better,” Gerald assured him, lying down again and putting his arm over Thomas.
“That was your first time with a bloke? Some fellows get a bit…panicky.”
It sounded like there might be a story behind that, but Gerald didn’t think this was the time to ask about it. “I’m not the least bit panicked,” he said instead. “And it’s perfectly all right, for Sentinels, you know.”
“Yes, I know.” Thomas shifted, settling more closely into his embrace.
“Will you sleep here? At least for a bit?” Gerald had missed the companionship of having someone in his bed with him-from the time they were very small, he and Euan had often slept tangled together like puppies.
“Yes,” Thomas said, “I will.”
Link to Epilogue
About two weeks after the family returned from Conclave, Thomas steeled himself to attend Tea in the Gallery. “You don’t have to do this, you know, if you aren’t ready,” his lordship said as they got ready to go down.
“I know, my lord,” Thomas said. Over the last couple of weeks, he had gradually moved his things back down to the dressing room and had come to spend most of his days with his lordship. He’d taken tea with both her ladyship and Lady Georgiana in their respective sitting rooms, and he’d accompanied his lordship and Lord Yernemuth on farm visits. Tea in the Gallery-Thomas was unable to think of it without capital letters-was the next step.
“And we can always leave early. Or you can leave early.”
“Yes, my lord,” Thomas said, straightening his blue-and-silver tie in the looking glass.
“Am I being overbearing?”
“Just a little, my lord.”
They went down. Most of the family-and their Guides-were already gathered. That day was a bit of a command performance, as her ladyship had indicated that she wanted to discuss preparations for Christmas; Thomas had decided to make the leap today in part because it would have been very obvious if he hadn’t.
Nearly everyone glanced over at them-particularly at him, Thomas thought-as they entered, and immediately tried to pretend they hadn’t been. He got his lordship settled in a chair, with an ottoman for his leg-and for Thomas to sit on-and went to the tea-trolley.
Margery happened to be there as well. “Good afternoon, Thomas.”
Apparently, someone had been spreading the word that he wasn’t “Mr. Barrow” anymore. “Margery,” he answered.
Shortly after he’d returned to his lordship’s side, her ladyship opened a very large appointment diary and introduced the subject of Christmas.
Thomas’s previous experience with preparing for Christmas in a great house had been largely confined to putting up decorations and serving somewhat more elaborate dinners as a footman. Now he learned how much more was involved. There was an extensive schedule of social and charitable events at which her ladyship felt the family had to be represented; these were apportioned out mercilessly and often over the vocal protests of his lordship and his father and siblings.
“The Warwicks’ ball,” her ladyship said.
“Not I,” his lordship and Simon both said immediately.
“I’m not going either!” said Lady Georgiana.
“Someone must,” her ladyship said.
In an aside to Thomas, his lordship said, “The local Insensate squire. It’s ghastly-they always invite more people than their ballroom can hold, and the music’s appalling. But Mama feels it would seem a snub if none of us went.” More loudly, he said, “We certainly can’t. Most of the people they ask will have never seen a Guide before. Thomas wouldn’t be comfortable.”
“I certainly can’t either,” Lady Georgiana said. “The last time we danced, the squire tried to put his hand on my backside.”
“I don’t like it any more than the rest of you,” Lord Simon said.
Thomas felt that his argument was the weakest, but the matter was put aside when Mr. Clement came into the room, followed by a very nervous-looking woman in a print dress and white apron.
“Agnes!” Margery said, getting up from her seat near Lady Georgiana. “What’s wrong?”
“Alice,” she said, and immediately burst into tears.
While all of the ladies and the women Guides went over to comfort the weeping woman, Mr. Clement gave the men a more concise account of the situation. “Her daughter is missing,” he explained. “It seems that many of the cottage children went out to the North Wood to gather Christmas greenery, and--”
“Bit early for that, isn’t it?” Lord Simon asked.
His lordship and Lord Yernemuth directed identical quelling glares at him, and Mr. Clement continued, “Be that as it may, the other children returned nearly two hours ago, but Alice Owens has not. Apparently the children split into several groups, and no one is entirely sure when Alice became separated from the others or where she might be.”
“How old is the child?” his lordship asked.
“Six,” Mr. Clement answered. “Mrs. Agnes is, understandably, quite concerned, particularly as it has started to snow.”
Thomas hadn’t noticed that, but none of the Sentinels seemed surprised. “We’ll have to mount a search,” Lord Yernemuth said. Thomas expected him to follow up with an order to arrange the male staff into search parties, but instead he said, “Clement, set up the largest map you can find in the library. We’ll assemble there once we’ve all changed into suitable clothing.”
Clement nodded. “I’ll have the kitchen prepare flasks of coffee as well.”
His lordship spoke up. “While you’re at it, send someone to the cottage for something with the girl’s scent on it. A nightdress or something. We’ll need it, if the whole North Wood was full of Guide children two hours ago.”
“You can’t mean to go,” Lord Simon said.
“Yes, I do mean to go,” his lordship answered. He glanced over at Thomas. “You don’t mind helping, do you?”
“Of course I don’t mind, my lord,” Thomas said, trying to think of how to point out that he wasn’t the problem here. His lordship was fairly nimble on his wooden leg on level ground, but a damp, icy forest full of rocks, undergrowth, and tree roots hardly qualified.
Before he could manage to find a tactful way of pointing that out, Lord Simon said, “With him or not, you can’t think it’s a good idea to go stumbling around in the woods in the dark.”
That was one way to say it, Thomas supposed.
“I don’t intend to stumble,” his lordship said, then stopped. Thomas could see the problem dawning on him.
“I had to fill in for you at the hunt,” Lord Simon pointed out. “And that was in daylight.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my eyes,” his lordship said.
“You could stay here and…coordinate the search,” Lord Yernemuth suggested. “Look over the map, and….”
“And then what, telephone you out in the wood? No. I’ll take a horse. Whoever you send to the cottage can stop at the stable and ask Clint to get Gypsy ready.”
Her ladyship and Lady Georgiana joined the group. “Gerald, are you sure that’s a good idea?” her ladyship asked.
“Yes. Thomas, do you want to ride as well? I expect we’ll be going rather slowly, so you can walk if you’d rather.”
Thomas thought he had better walk-if this went wrong in any of the myriad ways he could imagine, having two horses to deal with would not help matters. “I’ll walk, my lord,” he said.
“Right,” his lordship said. “Clement, take care of those things, please. We’ll meet in the library in-shall we say a quarter of an hour?”
Once they were up in his lordship’s room, away from Lord Simon, Thomas ventured, “Are you…sure this is a good idea, my lord?”
“Oh, don’t you start,” his lordship said irritably.
Thomas drew back in the act of helping him out of his jacket.
“I’m sorry,” his lordship said immediately. He sighed. “I’m not sure how much use we’ll be out there, but I’m going to be master here one day. I can’t be seen as a useless cripple.”
“Of course not, my lord,” Thomas said. He hadn’t thought of it that way. He remembered Lieutenant Courtenay, pushed aside by his younger brother because of his disability. That, surely, had been as much a motive in his suicide as the impending separation from Thomas and Lady Sybil. “Yes, of course,” he repeated, getting out his lordship’s warmest tweeds.
“Besides,” his lordship added as he changed, “My Army training should come in handy. Simon didn’t do the field course, since he was general staff. And this should be substantially easier than a night patrol, at least.”
Thomas couldn’t disagree with that-the squirrels were unlikely to be equipped with machine guns.
When they assembled in the library, Thomas was again surprised to see the ladies and their Guides, sensibly attired in heavy tweed walking skirts. He seemed to be the only one, however. After everyone had had a sniff at the little girl’s nightie-something Thomas tried not to think too hard about-Lord Yernemuth allotted a section of the wood to each Sentinel, making no distinction as to sex apart from assigning the ladies the sectors closest to the house. Mr. Clement handed out electric torches and the promised flasks of coffee, and they set out.
There was a light coating of snow on the ground, and his lordship’s crutches slipped more than once on the way to the stable. Still, he seemed undaunted, and Thomas resolved not to raise any more objections. Matters improved once his lordship was in the saddle. They had to cross a field to get to their assigned section of wood, and the ploughed ground gave decent footing for both Thomas and the horse. The nearly-full moon reflecting off the snow made it fairly easy to see.
When they got to the edge of the wood, his lordship shuffled the reins into one hand, held the other out toward Thomas, and said, “I’m going to need a link.”
For a second, Thomas thought he meant a cufflink. He’d nearly forgotten about the Sentinel kind of linking-despite the fact that his being able to form one with his lordship was such a big deal, he hadn’t actually done it since the day they’d met. He took his lordship’s hand.
His hand tingled and his ears clogged. From his lordship’s direction, he got an impression of worry and affection. They stood like that for a long moment, until the horse started stamping her hooves and switching her tail.
When his lordship let go of his hand, Thomas wasn’t entirely sure what he’d been doing, but his lordship seemed to have gotten something out of it.
“This way, I think,” his lordship said, picking up his reins and indicating a path with a nod of his head.
Once they entered the woods, matters were not nearly so easy. The path was narrow and-as Thomas had suspected-obstructed with rocks and roots. The overhanging trees blotted out most of the moonlight and dripped icy water onto them, along with the occasional clump of heavy, wet snow. Stumbling along in the wake of the horse, trying to stay close enough to see it without being kicked, Thomas reminded himself frequently that the fact that it was dark, cold, and generally unpleasant were also the reasons that a six-year-old girl had no business being out here.
After what seemed like an eternity, his lordship called a halt. The linked again. This time, Thomas noticed his lordship turning his head slowly from side to side-listening, or maybe smelling. Dropping Thomas’s hand, he said, “Hold the horse, would you?”
Thomas made his way around to the front of the horse-slipping once on an icy rock-and caught hold of the bridle.
His lordship unhooked the flask from his saddle, saying, “She’s definitely been through here-I can smell it-but I can’t tell when. If she’s nearby, she isn’t making a sound.” He poured some steaming coffee into the flask’s lid, adding, “God, I’m freezing.”
“Do you think she’s….” Thomas couldn’t finish that sentence.
His lordship shook his head. “There’s a stream about a quarter-mile that way.” He pointed. “Not frozen over; I can hear it running. If she fell into that…well.”
Thomas knew, from his medical training, that even if it wasn’t cold enough to kill on its own, being wet could make all the difference. He wondered if the girl had a sturdy coat and shoes-without them, she might be dead even if she hadn’t fallen into the stream.
Finishing the coffee, his lordship refilled the cup and handed it down to Thomas.
Once his lordship had taken the reins back up, Thomas wrapped both of his hands around the warmth of the cup. He could remember having been colder-the two winters he’d spent in France, for example-but that didn’t mean he was used to it. His own shoes weren’t really meant for dealing with wet snow, though his coat was all right.
All too soon, Thomas finished his share of the coffee and they moved out again. “The scent’s stronger here,” his lordship said after perhaps a quarter-hour of miserable slogging. “Call out, and I’ll listen.”
Thomas opened his mouth, then realized he’d forgotten the child’s name. “What’s the girl called?”
“Agnes-no, that’s the mother. Alice.”
“Alice!” Thomas called. “Alice!” It seemed like he ought to say something else-would a six-year-old lost in the woods answer some strange man bellowing her name? Depending on what sort of fairy stories her parents told her, perhaps not. “Alice! Your mum sent us to take you home!”
“Stop,” his lordship said, and held out his hand. Thomas took it. This time, the link lasted for only a few seconds before his lordship dropped his hand and said, “This way.”
#
They had to pause twice more for Gerald to link with Thomas, listen for the girl’s weak cries, and adjust course, but finally they found her, huddled next to the trunk of a tree, shivering. She looked up at them, her teeth chattering too hard for her to speak.
Gerald gathered his reins into one hand and slipped his foot from the stirrup. But before he could dismount, Thomas stopped him with a wordless sound.
“What?” Gerald asked, looking over at him.
“If you get off the horse, my lord, I’m not sure how we’ll get you back on.”
He was right, of course. Focused on the search for the girl, he’d quite forgotten about his leg. His remaining foot was so numb that he couldn’t feel it, either. He’d probably have remembered before he brought his stump over the saddle, but perhaps not. “Yes,” he said, “Yes, you’re right. Alice, we’re here to help you,” he said as he unbuckled the flask from the saddle-he’d reserved a bit of coffee for just that eventuality. “See if you can get that down her,” he told Thomas. “And wrap her in this,” he added, handing over an extra coat that Clint had thought to bundle behind the saddle.
Thomas crouched next to the girl and wrapped the coat around her shivering frame. She seemed to take that as an invitation to huddle into his embrace; Thomas soon ended up sitting with her in his lap, looking rather startled by this outcome. Still, he rallied and started opening the flask, chiding her as he did so. “-gave everyone quite a scare, getting lost like that, Miss Alice. Your mum was that upset, and now all them from the big house are out looking for you. Shouldn’t wonder if you get a right thrashing when you get home….”
Fortunately, the girl didn’t seem to take much notice of what he was saying. When Thomas finally got the cap off the flask-his hands were shaking with the cold, too-he held it to her lips. She drank briefly, then drew back. “It’s bitter,” she said.
“I know it is, but it’s hot. Sort of. Drink it anyway.”
Seeming not to mind his brusque manner, Alice drank. Once she had done so, Thomas started to stand up. Alice clung to his neck, but Thomas tried to put her down. “No, you have to walk-you’re too big a girl to be carried.”
Gerald was about to suggest that she ride with him, but the girl spoke first. “I can’t, my foot’s hurt. I was climbing up to get the mistletoe, and I fell. That’s why I couldn’t go home. My foot’s hurt,” she repeated, and started to cry.
Thomas shot Gerald a look of desperation; he shrugged, not entirely sure what to do about a crying child either.
“All right, let’s have a look, then,” he said, setting her back on the ground. “I was a medic in the war; I saw lots of people with their feet hurt.” Once he’d gotten Alice to bring her leg out from under her skirt, Gerald saw that she’d taken off her shoe-probably quite sensibly, as the foot was very swollen, but there was no chance of getting it back on now. “Oh, that’s nothing,” Thomas said, probing at it gently with his fingers. “If you were a soldier, we wouldn’t even send you home for a little thing like that; just give you an extra rum ration and back to your post.”
Alice giggled through her tears at that.
“Except I expect we can’t go giving little girls rum, so I suppose you’ll have to go home after all,” Thomas continued, taking off his muffler and wrapping it around her foot. “I think you’ll have to ride on the horse with his lordship,” he added, glancing up at Gerald, who nodded. “He hurt his foot, too. Bit worse than yours. Up you get.”
He boosted Alice up into Gerald’s arms. She huddled against him, a cold, shivering little bundle. Gerald got her safely arranged while Thomas hooked the flask back onto the saddle and they set out. “We’ll take this track back out into the field,” Gerald said, turning Gypsy’s head. “It’s a bit further, but the going’s easier.”
Thomas nodded. Now that Alice was safe, Gerald noticed how cold and tired his Guide looked. Well, naturally-he’d been slogging along in the wet while Gerald had a comparatively easy time of it up on his horse. Perhaps he should have insisted that Thomas ride after all, when he’d noticed that Papa had assigned them the farthest section of wood. “Are you all right, Thomas?”
Thomas nodded wearily. “Yes, my lord. Got a bit of a chill sitting on the ground, but we’ll be in the warm soon enough, won’t we?”
“Yes, we will.” If Thomas had been on a horse too, they could have urged them on faster and gotten both Thomas and Alice-not to mention Gerald himself-warmed up that much more quickly. He briefly considered having Thomas get up on Gypsy behind him, but even for a short ride, that would be too much weight for the small mare.
And when they got out to the field, Gerald found that the footing was worse than it had been-a crust of ice had formed over the powdery snow, and both man and horse stumbled often. They couldn’t have gone much faster in any case.
After one stumble in which Thomas nearly went down, Gerald suggested that he steady himself on the stirrup leather. Thomas looked for a second as though he wanted to spurn the offered assistance, but then nodded and took hold of the stirrup leather, his hand just behind Gerald’s knee.
As they went along the edge of the wood, Gerald occasionally called out, telling the other Sentinels that the girl had been found. “Will we have to go back out and round them all up?” Thomas asked after one of these instances.
“No,” Gerald said. “We’ll have someone ring the fire-bell when we get back; even if they haven’t heard me, they’ll hear that.”
Despite all the shouting, Alice had nearly fallen asleep in Gerald’s arms by the time they reached the cottage, but she woke as Gerald handed her down to Thomas. “Mummy?” she said, seeing her home.
She tried to get free of Thomas-thinking to run inside to her mother, Gerald supposed-but Thomas held on to her. “Remember your foot, Alice.”
“Mummy! ” Alice howled.
The cry pierced Gerald’s ears, and it must have been quite loud to Insensate ears as well; the cottage door opened and Agnes rushed out.
Transferring her from his own arms to those of her mother, Thomas explained about Alice’s foot. “It doesn’t look bad-either a sprain or a minor break-but I’d have a doctor look at it. We can telephone from the house, I expect,” he added, with an inquiring look at Gerald.
“Yes, we’ll do that,” Gerald said.
“Morning should be soon enough,” Thomas added. “In the meantime, just get her warm and dry.”
Agnes nodded. “Yes, thank you-thank you, your lordship,” she added. “Do you want to come in and warm yourselves? I’ve the kettle on.”
“We’d better not,” Thomas said. “His lordship doesn’t have his crutch with him.”
“And Clint would have my head if I kept this horse standing outside while we got warm,” Gerald added. “Look after your daughter, and we’ll look after ourselves.”
Agnes thanked them again. “And please thank all the ladies and gentlemen for me-I don’t know what we would have done,” she added, kissing her daughter.
“Mummy!” Alice said suddenly, her face crumpling into tears again. “All my greens! We left them!”
“Darling, don’t worry about that!” Agnes said.
“But now the house won’t be pretty for Christmas!”
“I’m sure it will be beautiful with Alice in it,” Gerald said, privately resolving that when the gardeners brought their Christmas greens, he’d have them take a few down to Agnes’s cottage.
#
Thomas was nearly too frozen to be amused by the way Clint fussed over the returning Gypsy. After hearing that Alice had been safely found, all his attention was for the horse; Thomas had scarcely gotten his lordship out of the saddle and supported on his crutches before Clint was leading her away, telling her that he’d prepared a warm bran mash and would give her a rub-down while she ate it in her nice, warm stable.
At the moment, Thomas wouldn’t have minded being a horse. Something hot to eat and a rub-down sounded just about perfect at the moment.
Still, he should be able to get at least one of the two when they got up to the house. And a bit of a rest next to the bedroom fire.
Suddenly, all of the things about Sentinels and Guides that he’d gotten used to, but never really understood, made sense. After a taxing experience like this one, no reasonable master would have expected him to continue with his duties-seeing his lordship dry, warmed, fed, and tucked up in bed-before doing any of those things for himself. But nor did he want to leave his lordship in someone else’s care while he went off to another part of the house and took care of himself.
The way that Sentinels did things meant he didn’t have to. He’d change his lordship into some dry clothes, and then himself, quite naturally since their clothes were all in the same dressing room. Then they’d both warm up by the fire, and likely someone would bring hot drinks and supper for them both. Right now, after they’d both been stumbling around in the woods on a rather important-nearly heroic-errand, the intimacy of it seemed entirely appropriate.
Because what they had been doing, just now, that was what Sentinels were for. They weren’t just toffs who happened to have heightened senses. On an ordinary day, that was all they were-but in an emergency, they were something else. A search party of village men with electric torches, led by the local police, might have found the girl eventually-but perhaps not soon enough. And in the days before electric torches and village bobbies, she’d have been done for.
And in the days even before that, when hunting was for food instead of sport, the same abilities that let them find Alice tonight would have meant that any community that supported a Sentinel or two would be much better-fed than its neighbors. And, he remembered his lordship saying, they had been war leaders. Thomas still wasn’t sure what use they’d been in a modern war, but in the days of swords and bows, the advantages would have been incalculable.
Provided, that is, that the Sentinels had Guides. Without them, at least going by his lordship’s example, Sentinels were essentially invalids. With them, they were able to do things ordinary people couldn’t.
And that was why Guides weren’t treated like servants-because they weren’t. They did the work of servants sometimes, because a man had to work, even if the Sentinels were largely idle these days. But that was just a way of keeping busy. Really, Guides were….
Thomas tried to think of some parallel from his old life, but couldn’t. That was rather the point, he supposed. They were Guides.
These thoughts took him to the front door and beyond, where he listened with half an ear to his lordship asking Clement if the others had returned, and giving orders about having the fire-bell rung and sending trays up to his room and so forth.
“Are you all right, Thomas?” his lordship asked as they started up the stairs.
“Yes, my lord,” he said automatically. “I’ve just been thinking. It’s quite a good thing that we found Alice when we did.”
“Yes, the weather’s getting worse by the minute. She’d not have lived until morning.”
“I suppose-it isn’t just because she’s a Guide that we went out after her.” Thomas had thought that before, but now he wasn’t so sure.
“No-it might have taken a village woman a bit longer to decide to trouble us. But the bobby would have called on us eventually. Sentinels are useful for that sort of thing. Searches and so on.”
“I’d noticed,” Thomas said.
“Not that such a thing comes up terribly often,” his lordship added as they neared the top of the stairs. “More often it’s lost livestock, and we wouldn’t put ourselves to quite so much discomfort over that. But we ought to do something, in return for the county putting up with our funny ways.”
They entered the bedroom, where a fire was burning cheerfully in the grate. His lordship lowered himself into one of the chairs before it, wet clothes and all. Someone had thoughtfully put several thick towels to warm on a towel-horse before the fire. After handing one to his lordship, Thomas stood and warmed his hands over the fire.
“You can sit down, if you like,” his lordship pointed out.
“If I do, I won’t want to get up again, my lord. Do you want a bath, or just dry clothes?”
“A bath, I think-oh, no, better save the hot water for the ladies. Just pyjamas and my dressing gown, I think. But no hurry; I’m thawing out quite nicely here.”
“Yes, my lord.” Noticing that his right hand was warming up considerably more quickly than his left, Thomas peeled off the sodden glove, and noticed an immediate improvement.
Once his fingers had thawed, he sat down on the hearth-stone and took off his shoes. They were soaked through, and his socks as well. Thomas knew he ought to do something about it-the shoes were likely to end up ruined no matter what-but he certainly didn’t want to. As he toweled off his feet, he contemplated taking his shoes down to the boot-cleaning room to stuff them with newspaper and apply leather conditioner and all the rest of it. It seemed like a ridiculous amount of effort for something as inconsequential as shoes.
“Shall I get yours, while I’m down here?” he asked, nodding towards his lordship’s foot. He was wearing a sturdy boot and hadn’t spent much time on the ground in any case, but it would have to come off sooner or later.
“You might as well,” his lordship said.
His lordship’s foot was pale and cold, though not quite as wet as Thomas’s own. He dried it with another of the towels.
Suddenly, sitting there almost as his lordship’s feet, Thomas became acutely aware of his lordship as a man. A man whose foot he had in his lap. Above that foot was a leg, and above that….
Thomas cut that thought off quickly. Some things did not mix well with damp trousers. “There, I think that’s better,” he said, putting his lordship’s foot back on the hearth-rug. Collecting his shoes and his lordship’s boot, he stood and took them into the dressing room, where he dumped them in the corridor for the boot-boy, who would either manage to properly care for them or he wouldn’t; at the moment, Thomas didn’t much care which.
He gathered his lordship’s pyjamas and dressing gown and took them back to the fireside-it would be easier and more comfortable to just dress him there than to get him back up on his crutches to come into the dressing room.
With his new awareness of his lordship’s body, undressing him was both a delight and a torment. Thomas found himself noticing the play of the firelight on his skin, the way the use of his crutches had defined the muscles of his shoulders and remaining leg. The stump, too, was not the pallid, atrophied thing it had been when Thomas first saw it in London. He must have used it a bit when he rode.
Beyond that, Thomas didn’t quite dare look, and averted his eyes as he helped his lordship into the pyjama bottoms. Helping him into the dressing gown seemed a bit safer, since it mainly involved the top half of the body. As he did that, Thomas took the opportunity to slip his hands over his lordship’s shoulders in something that was not quite a caress, but skirted the edge of that liberty.
His lordship turned his head to look at him, his expression soft and affectionate. He was very nearly close enough to kiss, and Thomas was wavering on the edge of leaning in to do just that when his lordship suddenly turned his head back to the front. “Clement’s coming with our supper,” he said.
“Yes, my lord,” Thomas said, stepping away from him and gathering the discarded clothes. There was no sign of Mr. Clement yet, but Thomas was sure that his lordship must have heard him, even if from some distance away. What he wasn’t sure of was whether his lordship found the interruption welcome, or…not. Did he hope-as Thomas did-that they could pick up where they’d left off once Mr. Clement had been and gone?
Thomas took the clothes into the dressing room and hung them. While he was in there, he took the opportunity to change into his own pyjamas and dressing gown, hanging up his clothes as well. There would be a great deal of brushing and ironing to do tomorrow, but he’d let tomorrow worry about that. As for tonight, he had other things on his mind.
By the time he returned, Mr. Clement was setting up a simple supper on a folding table between the two fireside chairs. “-yes, acquitted himself quite nicely,” his lordship was saying. He looked up at Thomas with a warm, fond smile.
“I’m sure Agnes must be relieved,” Mr. Clement said.
“Oh, yes, I’m sure. It could have ended rather badly, but all seems to be well now.”
“Will there be anything else?” Mr. Clement asked.
“No, I expect after we’ve eaten we’ll go to bed.”
It was a perfectly innocent remark-there was nothing in it to imply that they would necessarily be going to the same bed-but for a second, Thomas thought that Mr. Clement heard it the same way he did. “Very good, your lordship,” he said, and bowed himself out.
The supper consisted of tea, stew, and bread. It looked like something they’d have served in the servants’ hall, but Thomas supposed that whatever had been planned for the upstairs dinner wouldn’t have held over quite so well. Perhaps those of the staff who hadn’t been involved in the search had eaten it, whatever it was.
As they ate, Thomas’s…awareness…of his lordship didn’t fade, but his lordship carried on as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening, speaking only of things like how good the stew was and how glad he was that Alice was all right. Thomas began to wonder if he had misread, or entirely imagined, what had passed between them. Or even if he had read it rightly, if his lordship had thought better of it.
Thomas didn’t think so, but he’d been wrong about things like that before. He wasn’t sure how to find out more certainly. He tried putting his hand well within reach in case his lordship wanted to hold it, but he didn’t.
Didn’t hold Thomas’s hand, that is. Thomas still didn’t know whether he wanted to.
He still wasn’t sure by the time they finished eating. “I suppose I should take the supper things down,” Thomas said. Getting a bit of distance would be good, if his lordship wasn’t interested.
On the other hand, Thomas wasn’t too keen on going downstairs half-hard and in his pyjamas. It was not entirely discreet.
“Just put it on the sideboard,” his lordship suggested. “I’m sure Clement will come back for it.”
“Yes, my lord,” Thomas said, making sure his dressing gown was securely tied before standing up.
“On second thought, perhaps you’d better put it in the passage,” his lordship said. “So he doesn’t have to come in.”
Again, that remark could have been innocent. Thomas glanced at his lordship, examining his face for any signs that he was hoping they might soon be engaged in some activity requiring privacy.
Unfortunately, the portions of his body that would have given a better clue were still hidden by the table, and even once Thomas had removed that, by his own securely-tied dressing gown.
Thomas spent a little time arranging the supper things back on the tray, and arranging his thoughts at the same time. His lordship could hardly be shocked to discover that Thomas was interested in him, even if he didn’t feel the same way. He knew full well what Thomas had been arrested for, after all. And while he’d given no overt expression of interest in sex, he clearly liked touching Thomas, and had alluded more than once to the hope that they would become close. So he wasn’t likely to be horrified by the idea, either.
In fact, given that he could smell when Thomas was unhappy, it seemed rather unlikely that he didn’t have at least some idea of what was on Thomas’s mind. But he hadn’t said or done anything about it. Did that mean that he wasn’t interested?
Or, given their earlier misunderstandings, did he simply not want to act on his knowledge of Thomas’s feelings before Thomas had indicated that he wished him to?
Thomas hoped very much that it was the latter, but it would make things very awkward between them if he was wrong, and if his lordship had to tell him point-blank that he wasn’t interested in intimacies of that sort. So he had to do something that was clear, but would allow for some pretense of misunderstanding if his lordship wasn’t interested. Easier said than done. After putting the supper things out in the passage, he paused by the sideboard and asked, “Would you like a drink, my lord?”
“Please.”
Thomas fixed one, and another for himself. Returning to the fireside, he wished that the chair he’d been sitting in had somehow disappeared in his absence. He’d have rather liked to sit on the hearthrug, within touching distance of his lordship. If he didn’t touch him, then, Thomas would have his answer.
And if he asked him to suck his cock while he was down there, Thomas would still be in a position to take advantage of that pretense of misunderstanding.
The chair stubbornly refused to disappear. Still, Thomas realized, its continued existence didn’t precisely oblige him to sit in it-thought it did make the pretense of misunderstanding even thinner.
But it would have been bloody thin to begin with. Handing his lordship his drink, Thomas threw caution to the wind and sat on the hearthrug, leaning against his lordship’s chair near where his right leg would have been, if he’d had one. When his lordship didn’t object, he shifted just a little to the left, so that his shoulder brushed his lordship’s knee.
“Oh,” his lordship said. After a moment’s hesitation, his free hand settled on Thomas’s shoulder, saying inanely, “That’s rather nice, isn’t it?”
He might have been talking about the drink, or the fire, but Thomas suspected he wasn’t. “Yes, it’s nice.” As he grew more relaxed with drink, he leaned more and more into his lordship’s leg. Finally, once Thomas was practically sprawled across his lap, his lordship began stroking his hair.
That, he thought, was sufficiently unambiguous to satisfy anyone. Now that he knew where things were headed, he was in no particular hurry to get there. All of his other encounters had been, necessarily, rushed. Even with the Duke of Crowborough, though they’d had the advantage of a bedroom, he’d had to make sure they were finished before he was missed.
He lolled there, his eyes half-closed, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the feeling of his lordship’s hand in his hair. He thought for a bit about the contrasts between this moment and the cold and misery of a few hours before…and between his lordship and his grace…and between this, and even his fondest hopes of what might have happened with Jimmy. He also thought more than a bit about what they might do next. He certainly wasn’t averse to the idea of sucking his lordship’s cock, if he was asked nicely. Actual buggery seemed like a bit of a leap, even if it was legal. Perhaps they could just rub up against each other-he always liked that, even if it was a bit messy.
Besides, it didn’t matter if it was a bit messy, since no disaster would ensue if they were found out. Thomas wasn’t particularly keen on the entire house knowing what they’d been up to-or what he hoped they would soon be up to-but it didn’t really matter if anyone suspected.
He could even, he thought, fall asleep in his lordship’s bed. What a thrilling thought that was.
“This is very nice,” his lordship said again. “Thomas, I wonder if-I hope I’m not getting ahead of myself. But I wonder if I could kiss you?”
“Of course you can.”
The mechanics of it were a bit difficult to work out. His lordship couldn’t stand easily, and leaning over him was all right for a quick brush of the lips-more than all right; Thomas decided, it was fantastic-but it was going to hurt his back if he did it much longer. He didn’t much like the idea of sitting in his lordship’s lap, either; it seemed entirely too girlish. Finally he perched on the arm of the chair, where their nearly-equal heights put him a bit too high up, but it was good enough.
Next time, he thought, they’d do this on the sofa.
After some time, his lordship drew away, breathing hard. “Can we-what else can we do?”
“What do you want to do?” Thomas countered.
“I…don’t know. I don’t really have much experience with this sort of thing,” his lordship admitted.
“What about Euan?” Thomas asked-rather tactlessly, he realized after he’d said it.
“We didn’t-he was like my brother. We didn’t.”
Oh. Thomas absorbed that for a moment, realizing again how many of his assumptions had been wrong. “Well, then,” he said, with a smile of genuine pleasure, “I’ll have to show you.”
#
Some time later, Gerald propped himself up on his elbow, looking down fondly at Thomas, who was stretched out on the bed next to him. The recent part of the evening had been something of a delightful surprise. Thomas’s arousal had been obvious, but Gerald had thought it might take several months for him to feel ready to do anything about it. And if he’d wanted to be coaxed into it-well, that might have taken years, given Gerald’s reluctance to pressure him.
He hadn’t quite realized that in that area, Thomas was much more a man of the world than he was. It was rather difficult not to be jealous of his earlier lovers-whoever they were-but Thomas seemed to be every bit as skilled and confident in bed as he was in the dressing room.
Gerald didn’t know what they would have done, if he hadn’t been. He knew about buggery, of course, but it had always sounded a bit alarming. Thomas assured him that it could be quite enjoyable if you had the knack of it, but had found plenty of other enjoyable things for them to do, this first time. On the surface of it, what they’d done didn’t seem much different from things he had done by himself-and which, when he’d been about fifteen, his father had gruffly informed him wouldn’t cause him to go blind or feebleminded, no matter what Insensate physicians said. But sharing those pleasures made them so much better, somehow.
Feeling the weight of his gaze, Thomas stirred. “What’re you looking at?” he asked sleepily.
“You,” Gerald said, bending to kiss him.
Once they’d parted, Thomas said, “You’re all right, then?”
“Never better,” Gerald assured him, lying down again and putting his arm over Thomas.
“That was your first time with a bloke? Some fellows get a bit…panicky.”
It sounded like there might be a story behind that, but Gerald didn’t think this was the time to ask about it. “I’m not the least bit panicked,” he said instead. “And it’s perfectly all right, for Sentinels, you know.”
“Yes, I know.” Thomas shifted, settling more closely into his embrace.
“Will you sleep here? At least for a bit?” Gerald had missed the companionship of having someone in his bed with him-from the time they were very small, he and Euan had often slept tangled together like puppies.
“Yes,” Thomas said, “I will.”
Link to Epilogue