Master of the Manor, by _inbetween_
Harlequin Challenge: Master of the Manor
(spoilery alternative titles and glossary below)*
Author: _inbetween_
Length: ~ 6700 words
Rating: NC-17
Notes: The usual thanks to spela, who inserted me between The Hives and is to be blamed for ze gramer, for making me re-insert (sorry) something "small" and any mistakes in the smutty parts (as she found none).
This challenge was/is like walking a tightrope; I was not able to stick to did not want to write badfic or schmoop, so I tried tongue-in-cheek gothic with some true romance, only to discover: deadpan ≠ bedpan.
Includes a decrepit mansion, judicious amounts of fainting, frocks, mysterious servants, a gratuitous stable-boy, bad puns, off-stage swashbuckling, hidden passions, and a little nudity having more of an effect on innocent virgins than full-frontal would have in non-AUs.
ETA: now (a year later) with cover art.
***
It was a dark and stormy night as the coach that carried me and my few belongings to Fennyridge Manor made its way across the moor. Looking out of the window and shivering in the cold draught that rattled its panes, I saw nothing but barren fields and skeletal trees stretching their branches towards a sickly moon hanging low in the dark, troubled sky.
As the coach pulled into the courtyard, I could hear loud barking and howling, but no lights appeared in the windows, and the front door did not open. The gruff coachman had thrown down my luggage and made as if to leave.
“Pray, sir, is this the right address then?” I asked him with more of a tremble in my voice than I cared for.
“Aye,” was his only reply as he climbed onto his seat again, and suddenly I wished he had not been paid in advance, because there was no way I could prevent him from leaving me here.
“Could I trouble you to see if someone awaits me?” I outright pleaded then, but he shot me one glance that took in my dusty boots and shabby brown overcoat and said he’d have to charge me for the return fare in case I had changed my mind.
Resignedly I let him go and walked up the few steps to the impressive front door. I had to put down my valise again and use both hands to lift the heavy knocker, but finally managed to raise enough noise to be heard.
Hasty footsteps sounded across a stone floor, bolts and chains scraped against each other, and I was gratified both by the obvious haste in which the negligent people now wanted to welcome me, and by the admirable security measures this great house offered.
Raising a smiling face, I prepared to offer genteel greetings, but was abruptly cut off by a strangely accented voice.
“Finally. There you are. Took you long enough, didn’t it!”
A pair of eyes that looked as blue as they looked annoyed stared at me over a thin-lipped mouth set at a forbidding slant, and there was the soft sound of a foot tapping.
I must admit the rudeness of this uncouth individual left me gaping, which only led him to continue.
“What’s the matter? Oh no, no, no, they can’t have sent us another deaf one. Or is it a dumb one this time? Although dumb you certainly all are.” The man’s mouth pulled down even further on one side, and he started waving the candelabra he held in one hand in a rather dangerous manner.
“Hellooo? Can. You. Hear. Me? Do you speak English?”
Mustering all my dignity while trying not to be scalded by drops of hot wax, I closed my mouth, inclined my head gracefully and replied: “Yes, sir. I believe your master is expecting me,” for although the man seemed obviously delusional and behaved well above his station, it was clear from his clothing that I had just met the butler.
***
Stepping into the great hall, I caught my reflection in a huge grimy mirror which could not hide the startling green of my eyes, looking huge in my pale heart-shaped face. I was no beauty, and tiredness did nothing to enhance my narrow features nor hide my flat chest and unfashionably slim hips. My dark hair was horribly tousled, and I hoped to have some time to make myself more presentable before meeting any other members of this household, but was quickly disillusioned.
Another individual sauntered down the stairs like he owned the place, though having already met the butler I was less surprised by such unseemly behaviour. The new arrival was tall and dark, his hair untouched by powder or grease and not even covered by a wig, his narrow face sporting a vague expression.
His eyes, however, had a curiously penetrating gaze, which belied the lazy smile on his lips. I steeled myself under his scrutiny, feeling both outrage and a strange heat rising in me.
“McKay?” was all the strange man said with a quizzically raised brow in the butler’s direction, in an odd languid drawl that matched his movements. Looking at the butler and seeing his suddenly erect posture, I finally realised who the other man had to be.
Gathering my wits about me, I dropped a curtsey and very nearly managed to keep the reproof out of my voice.
“Your lordship, my name is Prudence Merryweather. I believe you were expecting me?”
***
Amidst many uncalled for remarks and complaints, Mr. McKay showed me to my room, expounding at great length about the lack of staff at the manor house, “… impossible to get any decent help in this part of the country … nincompoops wherever you look …”
This seemed to explain why an ill-mannered person such as himself was performing butler duties, but I soon learned that was not all he did. “… not imagine the work I have to do just to keep a semblance of respectability for Master J- … Lord Sheppard, I mean…”.
I had already learned to filter out most of what Mr. McKay was saying in the short time I knew him, but must have looked startled at his slip of the tongue, because he flushed and proceeded to explain to me - in even more clipped tones and at greater speed - how he had grown up with Lord Sheppard, what with McKay Senior having been the previous butler and the boys having been of an age and the only ones in the vicinity, not that they ever forgot their stations, and it was none of my concern anyway and I was to keep my nose out of his lordship’s affairs if I knew what was good for me. And he so happened to be Lord Sheppard’s valet as well.
Not looking me in the eye, he emphasised that despite the seemingly casual atmosphere in this household, everybody knew their place and transgressions were frowned upon.
***
As I was braiding my fine silky hair for bed and looking out at the clear night sky, a movement in the dark garden caught my attention. I leaned out of the window and had to stifle a cry of surprise at the sight of Lord Sheppard leading his mare along the grassy strip bordering the carriageway. If a stray moonbeam had not fallen on his face just as he tied some sort of scarf around it, I would not even have noticed anything as they were nothing more than shadows moving noiselessly away from the manor.
A shiver ran through me at the sight, but I attributed it to the chill night air, closed the window and retired to my bed, trying not to think about where his lordship might be going so late at night. As I fell asleep, a pair of inscrutable eyes under a mop of dark hair seemed to follow me into my dreams.
***
The next day was spent quite pleasantly as I settled into my role as the governess. I met the handmaids, two small slender girls that seemed oddly close-mouthed and self-assured, and was told there were only a handful of other servants in the house, mostly hired help and none that were living in or any of my concern. Obviously, the last statement was made by Mr. McKay, whom I seemed unable to avoid. I started to wonder if he was developing a liking for me, but quickly squashed that thought as unseemly.
Lord Sheppard called me into his study after breakfast to go over my duties. I was to teach the young master in French and Geography, History and the Classics in order to prepare him for college, with one afternoon per week at my own disposal. I might be required to assist in organisational matters in the household should needs arise, and while that went against my noble upbringing, I could not be choosy and simply nodded with quiet dignity.
Then I was introduced to my new pupil Aidan, who was Lord Sheppard’s young ward and a bright and friendly boy. Despite his second name being Fjord his mother surely had not come from Norway, because I had always been good at Geography and the peoples of the world, and the boy was even swarthier than Lord Sheppard, with very curly black hair and eyes like jet stones. With his easy-going yet polite manners, he should have had lots of little friends, but due to one of his eyes being oddly distorted he was actually shunned and feared by the villagers.
I felt a stab of pity at the thought of the lonely childhood Aidan must have had and vowed to do my best to make his youth more enjoyable. We started our first lessons in the afternoon, in a bright airy room that used to be the nursery. While Aidan’s head was bowed over his declinations, I looked at the old toys and tried to imagine “Master John” playing here, many years ago.
***
As he expected a guest that night, I was invited to take dinner with Lord Sheppard. His visitor, a Mr. Beckett, was a doctor and a gentleman, which he proved by rising from his chair and giving me a polite bow when I entered the drawing room. He had a delightful burr in his voice and blue eyes so similar to our butler’s that I briefly wondered about their respective parentage.
I felt rather uncomfortable when I realised that a housemaid and the butler would be waiting on us at this occasion, but Mr. Beckett had obviously been the physician of the Sheppard family for so many years that it did not seem strange to him. Trying to ignore the disapproving looks from a pair of bright blue eyes, I was content to listen to the two gentlemen’s conversation about subjects like the Woad, the shockingly high price of tobacco and tea, as well as current issues like the latest findings in medicine and the increase in highway robberies, at which point Mr. McKay dropped a dish. The fracas caused the good doctor to jump from his seat and burble something wonderfully Scottish, but strangely enough did not even make his lordship look up from his plate.
After a pleasant meal, I excused myself as was proper and retired to my room, despite being wildly curious as to what business Mr. Beckett had with Lord Sheppard. As it was unseemly for a lady to listen at doors, I waited in my darkened room to watch for the doctor’s departure, only to notice a light coming from two floors above me and shadows moving around in what I knew to be the attic. Only long after they had gone did the front door open and Mr. Beckett leave. I had nearly fallen asleep at the windowsill by then and crawled into bed, soon overcome by dreamless sleep.
***
As I prepared to leave the house next morning to take some gentle exercise and explore the grounds, an uncouth fellow, taller than any man I had ever seen, with greasy unwashed hair in tangles and a grim frown on his swarthy face, came walking across the courtyard, and I instinctively shrank back behind the door. His long legs took him to the house in no time, and before I could rethink the wisdom of hiding in plain view, he had crossed the doorstep and was now towering above me. Impervious dark eyes glowered at me, and my throat went dry. I felt close to fainting, unable to scream for help or run away, when lighter footsteps on the stairs signalled that help was coming.
“Ah, very good, you have already met,” said Lord Sheppard in his usual mild tone as he came closer, seemingly unaware of the state of turmoil I was in.
The stranger turned at these words and seemed to become more human, his face losing its wild, forbidding expression as he softly grunted.
“Oh, right,” Lord Sheppard turned to me. “Miss Merryweather, this is Rowan Dex. He looks after the stables and gardens and … other things for me. Rowan, you remember I told you about Miss Merryweather, she is Master Aidan’s new governess and to be treated accordingly.”
After another soft grunt, which Lord Sheppard actually seemed to be able to understand, the man called Dex turned to look at me again. Trying my best to smile politely, I wondered if I should offer him my hand since he was obviously in his lordship’s good graces, but decided against it as he still might be nothing more than a stable-lad (and, admittedly, smelled rather strongly).
With something like a smirk, Dex bowed and turned to go. Lord Sheppard watched him leave with an inscrutable face, then turned to me with the amiable smile I was sure he reserved for me alone, and inquired after my well-being and whether my quarters were satisfactory.
***
Over the next days I found out that Dex liked to work in the yard with not only his coat but also his shirt and under-shirt off, in nothing but his breeches and leather boots. I started to avert my eyes from all the south-facing windows because he seemed to be in this indecent state of undress at all times of the day, so I nearly overlooked Mr. McKay, hands behind his back and bouncing on the balls of his feet with suppressed anger or glee as he watched Dex from the safety of the drawing-room.
Strangely enough, this stable-boy seemed much more loyal to his master than the butler himself. Dex might come across as gruff and prone to violence like the hill folks he descended from, but I saw his face soften when he rubbed down his master’s mare and whenever he was in the vicinity of Lord Sheppard. At his arrival, Dex would already be waiting eagerly, ready to help his lordship off his horse - a service that was never required - and, if not cheerfully, Dex always fulfilled all the chores his master gave him with utmost precision.
He might growl at Mr. McKay, but I noticed he only tended to do that at certain times of the month. Their bickering could also turn to complicity at the drop of a hat, especially at mealtimes, and after once observing Mr. McKay and Rowan actually talking with each other in quiet voices, I started having an uneasy feeling about their intentions. Lord Sheppard seemed too laid-back to see what was happening right in front of his eyes, and the wily butler would have no difficulty in doing whatever wily butlers might be doing with the help of nefarious stable-boys.
I could not just look away and let that happen. I might not have a noble name or great wealth or beauty, but I would use whatever strength I had in my frail body to protect my employer from his evil servants. I resolved to follow Mr. McKay unobtrusively and keep my eyes and ears open at all times of the day - and of the night, if it was necessary.
***
My plan was both easier and more difficult to follow than I had thought. While my lessons with Aidan kept me occupied most of the day, I had free access to all the accessible parts of the house at other times. I made sure not to be seen, but Mr. McKay had an odd ability to sense me at times, and the difficulty was in finding new excuses for my presence in various parts of the manor, since “I am just admiring the glorious tapestry” did not work in shabby rooms devoid of any excess furniture or ornaments.
I had tried “These portraits are fascinating, are they all Lord Sheppard’s ancestors” once, only to have to listen to a tirade by Mr. McKay along the lines of “I will have you know, Miss Merryweather, that it would be foolish in the extreme of you to entertain any notions of ever being welcomed into the rows of these … ok, well, these rather ugly and pompous looking people, but that is beside the point.”
The last word was emphasised by an equally pointy finger directed at me, and before I could take flight, the pompous man had started twirling his offending digit and rocking on his feet, happy to be able to regal me on one of his favourite subjects.
“Where was I? Ah, yes, the point being that, no matter how pallid their visages and squinty their eyes, they are all of a noble lineage that people like you …” he paused and swallowed. “Or indeed I can only look up to. Their bodies might have been frail and their minds weak, but, but …”
I confess to having felt a little pleasure at our butler’s obvious discomfort, but I was also intrigued. This was no way to speak about ones’ masters, let alone to a governess, and Mr. McKay seemed to let his guard drop too often at the subject for me to overlook it. The advantage of this weakness of his was that he usually walked off in a huff when he got himself stuck like that and - so I hoped - completely forgot about having caught me in places I had no business to be in.
For that reason I felt safe in keeping up my unobtrusive observance of the other servants, and after a week I was rewarded by the sight of Mr. McKay coming out of Lord Sheppard’s chamber at an ungodly hour, shooting furtive glances up and down the corridor before hurrying towards his own chambers.
I was in my nightgown and lacy overthrow, but the thought of a gently mocking smile in a dark, narrow face stiffened my resolve and I followed the butler up the stairs. It was not necessary for me to pursue him further, because at that point I could clearly see the jewellery glittering in his hand.
***
Images of ghosts hiding behind curtains, masked villains laughing at me, and piles of glittering treasure haunted my dreams, so I got up and dressed early, and had just settled down to watch the sunrise from my window when once again the sight of Lord Sheppard’s mare coming up towards the house caught my attention. It was limping slightly, the reigns were dragging along in the dirt and there was no sign of its rider, which alarmed me greatly. Leaning out of the window to search the gardens for a sign of his lordship, I thought I saw someone or something between the bushes. I grabbed the poker from the fireplace and hurried outside.
Panting for air, I hastened through the untended rows of hedges. As I rounded a corner, I nearly stumbled over the prone form of Lord Sheppard. Stifling an unladylike shriek, I bent down and tried to feel for his pulse, but could not detect it in his wrists. With shaking hands I loosened his cravat and slipped my fingers into its folds, finding warm skin, bristly right under the jaw, then smooth as I kept searching for a pulse.
Before I could undo his jacket and further pursue my search for his lordship’s heartbeat, a small whimper and the swallowing movement in his throat alerted me to him definitely still being alive, and I reluctantly pulled back my hand.
At this moment Mr. McKay arrived; I had never seen him as distraught before - not even that day cook had prepared duck au citron for dinner - as when he recognised the still figure on the ground. He was still waving his arms around, but no words came out of his gasping mouth. Kneeling down next to Lord Sheppard, he seemed to make an effort to calm himself and run his hands over his lordship’s limbs to check for injuries.
Suddenly he went very still and stood up. There was blood on his hands, and I gasped out loud. With a groan, Mr. McKay’s eyes rolled back until I could see the whites, his knees wobbled and then he collapsed beside Lord Sheppard, leaving me with two prone bodies.
***
Thankfully my predicament was cut short by both of them coming to a moment later. Mr. McKay sat up as abruptly as he had fainted and immediately turned back to his lordship, who was slowly opening his eyes and aimlessly moving his lips. In the light of the rising sun I could see the blood spread into an irregular stain across his left side. My thoughts were in turmoil and I did not know what to do or say first.
“Your lordship, what happened, were you attacked?”
Lord Sheppard’s eyes rested only for a short moment on me, then moved to Mr. McKay and lingered on the other man, never straying back to my face. I could tell that he forced himself not to look at me too often or too obviously, all the more so in the company of his servants, and blushed at his consideration under even the direst circumstances.
“McKay. Get me to the house. Hurry.” Lord Sheppard’s eyes closed again.
The butler looked at me with a frantic yet determined expression, and I saw the great effort it took him to ask me to fetch Dex and any other help I could find and send someone for the doctor. Whether he stayed behind so I did not get into a potentially dangerous or compromising situation or just felt too shaken and out-of-breath to do any running, I could not tell.
As I hurried back to the house, Mr. McKay seemed to try out a resuscitation technique I had never seen, only ever heard of from when the kind Mr. Beckett had mentioned it. While I was therefore familiar with Mr. Tossach's report of the resuscitation of a coal miner through mouth-to-mouth breathing, I briefly wondered how this might help Lord Sheppard, who was neither drowning nor clinically dead. Forcing myself to not stop and stare at the unusual sight of a man, a servant to boot, pressing his lips rather shakily onto his lordship’s, I hastened up the steps and called for the maids.
***
Lord Sheppard’s condition improved rapidly. I learned from Mr. Beckett that he had only suffered a flesh wound and would be up and about in no time at all. My inquiries as to where and at whose hands my master had been so wounded were all cut short though, which served to raise my suspicion again.
There had been no mistaking the genuine shock in Mr. McKay’s face when he saw Lord Sheppard lying on the ground, but that still left Dex unaccounted for, and did not change the fact of what I had seen the butler do, nor explain the mysterious lights in the attic. I kept up my vigil.
When I did not see anybody prowl the grounds or corridors for a few days, I thought that maybe my imagination had been too heated after all. That was until the fateful night, about a week after his lordship had been wounded, when I heard eerie sounds drifting along the dark hallways and naturally decided to follow them, an act I came to regret after only a few steps.
An apparition came gliding around the corner, an impossibly tall woman with long blonde hair so light it looked almost white, but she seemed still youthful and close in age to Lord Sheppard. She raised her arm in an oddly elegant gesture at the sight of me, her luminous eyes widening in what might have been fear or … something rather different.
I was frozen to the spot, surprised by her sudden appearance as well as by her strange looks, when she tilted her head and I gasped in horror at what I could see clearly then: her face looked badly scarred, with gashes on both cheeks that seemed to also pull up her lips in a sneer, and I realised that her face looked just like little Aidan’s.
As I slowly collapsed in a dead faint, I felt a cold, burning pain in my chest, heard running footsteps and angry shouting. Drifting in a darkness that seemed filled with demonic winged beings lunging at me, their hungry mouths and clawed hands burning and freezing me at the same time, I idly wondered how to wake up from what had to be a nightmare.
***
“My dear Miss Merryweather, I deeply regret this unfortunate incident. Please let me explain … Lady Marilyn is my sister-in-law. My older brother got married when I was still at college, but he died soon after their wedding from mysterious symptoms that the doctor could only explain as old age.”
His lordship’s normally warm voice had taken on a decided edge at the mention of Mr. Beckett, but when he continued he seemed his placid self again.
“She has been very unwell and confined to her bed for a while now, and we try to give her the best care we can. More importantly, I have taken it upon myself to see to it that my nephew gets a proper education, which of course includes going to Eton as soon as possible.”
I nodded and stood up, but nearly fell over again. Lord Sheppard caught my elbow in time and helped me onto the chaise lounge, his eyes dark and his brows drawn together in a worried frown. I tried to give him a reassuring smile, but the frown did not disappear. A firm hand was placed against my forehead, and I admit I nearly swooned at the sensation of those cool long fingers against my burning skin. Before I could do anything unwise, they were withdrawn and Lord Sheppard rang for the butler.
Mr. McKay looked displeased at having been summoned and shot suspicious glances at my recumbent figure, but he listened to his master’s orders and left with an unnecessary click of his heels and a small bow to fetch the doctor as told.
***
The next few days passed in a haze. A maid, Lizzie or Katie perhaps, looked after me from time to time, and once I heard Lord Sheppard and Mr. McKay in my room, but as they seemed to be talking about fences, I wondered if his lordship suddenly concerned himself with the actual running of farms or - gods forbid - cattle after all. When I woke up next time, feeling much better and less fragile, I put it off as a fever dream, although one I admittedly cherished, for what governess had ever had a more thoughtful employer?
Lord Sheppard had sent Aidan off to his mother’s relatives, and I wondered if Lady Marilyn had left as well, which would leave me alone at Fennyridge Manor with his lordship - and his butler and stable-boy, of course.
***
As my strength grew and I was able to leave my bed for longer periods of time, the memories of what I thought I had overheard took on a sinister turn. I was no longer sure if it had not been Dex with Mr. McKay after all, because the stable-boy would be more likely to speak about fences. If that was the case, what had they been doing in my bedroom? At the thought of the two men in my bedroom a deep blush came over me, and I shivered.
I took up my self-appointed role as Lord Sheppard’s protector again and kept a watchful eye on the two servants, which was why I noticed the butler once again entering the master’s chambers at the dead of night. Following him to the door, I could only hear mumbling and a strange sort of guttural groaning at first, until suddenly Mr. McKay, never quiet even under the best of circumstances, shouted “Oh Lord! John!”, and then there was complete silence.
My stomach leaped at that agitated sound, and I wrung my hands in despair. Never in my life would I believe Lord Sheppard could harm Mr. McKay, but I could not explain to myself the strange sounds coming from his chambers. What if more of those strange, ethereal folk like Lady Marilyn had been in the house? What if … mon dieu, what if they really were vampires and had infected my dear master, who was no longer himself?
Trembling with fear and courage, I opened the door as quietly as I could. The spacious room was only lit by a single candle that threw everything but the large bed into shadow … everything but the large bed and its two occupants.
Only the darkness prevented me from being discovered, because at the sight that met my eyes I was frozen to the spot, unable to hide or even move stealthily, unable to utter a sound.
At first it seemed like my fanciful notion had been correct, as my horror-struck mind took in the image of Lord Sheppard bent over Mr. McKay’s prone form, his mouth at the butler’s pale throat, small gasps the only life-signs coming from that man as his master sucked forcefully while holding him down with his strong hands.
But then the dark head moved and their lips met and I saw no bite-marks on the flushed skin, and slowly it dawned on me that something even worse than I could ever have imagined was happening here.
I tried to move then but could not. Unable to close my eyes to the unspeakable things happening in front of me, unable to close my ears to the soft sounds the two men were making, I had to witness how Mr. McKay’s pale arms scooted up his master’s and wrapped themselves tightly around him, drawing his lordship even closer into a kiss of the likes I had never seen before, with mouths wide open and glimpses of tongue visible as they groaned and gasped and seemed to attempt to devour each other.
As if that were not enough, Mr. McKay started tearing at Lord Sheppard’s fine white shirt, trying to push it off his shoulders, and I was absurdly glad to see that his cravat had already been disposed of as the clumsy butler surely would have ruined it beyond repair. He sat up and in one movement managed to divest Lord Sheppard of his shirt and push the slimmer man back down onto the bed, where he resumed the kissing they had only broken off momentarily.
I could clearly see his lordship’s face now and was shocked at how flushed and open it looked, his eyes huge and dark and his lips parted and deep red and wet from the unseemly kissing he had engaged in. Mr. McKay ran his fingers over those lips and down his jaw, as if he could not believe his eyes either.
Leaning against the door-frame for support, I watched Mr. McKay lower his head to Lord Sheppard’s lips again, but linger only briefly before moving down his jaw, his neck, his chest! Then his nimble fingers divested his master of his breeches, tearing them down his lordship’s lean limbs so quickly that I was not sure if what I had seen was real or if perhaps I was just caught in a nightmare. Either they had gone insane or I had!
The mad butler trailed his hands up Lord Sheppard’s legs, fingers spread wide, thumbs curving inwards, and when he reached the top of those slim thighs he brought them together to encircle something I could not see. As he lowered his head to his hands, Lord Sheppard bucked off the bed underneath him, and it seemed like I had been right after all, Mr. McKay was out to hurt him. But why did he keep bobbing his head up and down like that, and why was there not more of a struggle?
Mr. McKay shifted as if to get a better grip, and then I saw it, saw that he was mouthing Lord Sheppard’s flesh, saw something small and wrinkly and reddish and hairy winking in and out of sight as he gently moved his lips around it. I had to grab the door-frame at this point to prevent myself from keeling over.
Lord Sheppard made a long low sound deep in his throat that sounded desperate beyond belief, curled upwards off the bed and pulled his butler’s face to his own. They fell back onto the pillows side by side, kissing no less hungrily than before, kissing each other so deeply I thought they must make their lips bleed, with mouths wide open and roaming but always returning, as if they could not breathe anymore without being connected. I could see their tongues slip into each others mouths, could hear their heavy laboured breathing louder than my own heartbeat, even imagined I could smell a heavy, earthy scent they exuded.
Their bodies had never stopped moving, one thrusting against the other in a motion that seemed decidedly awkward and embarrassing, though they did not seem to mind. Mr. McKay opened and pushed down his trousers as well, and I quickly lowered my eyes to prevent having to see what he uncovered. Their panting soon turned to deep guttural sounds, at which point my eyes flew open again.
Lord Sheppard had wrapped his long fingers around both their … protrusions and was stroking them, which seemed to alter their already changed appearance further. They looked like shafts of pink and purple flesh, no longer wrinkly but rising straight from dark curly hair, and then rising some more. Our butler had closed his eyes and I wondered if he had fainted, but then his lordship said something that sounded like “Rodney”, only it was hard to make out as his voice was rough and broken, but Mr. McKay opened his eyes and smiled and said something too quietly for me to hear, and then the men’s hips bucked and their stomach muscles twitched, just like they were possessed, and a white liquid shot from Lord Sheppard’s fist.
As if a ban had been broken, I could finally move again and I turned and ran and ran until I had reached my own room.
***
As I hastily dressed and threw my few belongings into my valise, my mind still reeling from what I had seen and unable to figure out its meaning, I heard a commotion above me. Sounds like splintering wood, followed by unearthly screaming nearly froze me in terror, but by then my only thought was to leave this unholy place as fast as my feet would carry me. With my valise in one hand and a candle in the other, I had slight difficulties opening the door to the corridor, but managed to get as far as the first landing when I heard another noise.
It sounded much closer this time, heavy breathing and haunting wailing and uneven footsteps of some great lumbering creature or two. When something pale and musty suddenly flapped in my face, I did not care to look if it was a curtain blowing in the wind or the sleeve of Lady Marilyn on the rampage. I dropped my candle and ran down the stairs in the dark, not caring whether I tripped or fell, just wanting to get away from whatever was coming after me.
***
Unfortunately it seemed that my hasty departure, combined with the unorganised and understaffed household, led to the tragic fall of Fennyridge Manor. It pains me to say that shortly after I had left the building, it burst into flames. As the first windows exploded, I stumbled and fell into a ditch. With my heart thumping wildly in my chest, I crawled behind a bush to catch my breath.
From the shelter of my hiding-place, I saw two men run towards the stables and had no trouble recognising the slender, if currently somewhat ruffled silhouette of Lord Sheppard. I could not make out if he had been changed or turned in any way, but as his companion was a slightly shorter man with his clothes in similar disarray I dared not call out either, fearing what Mr. McKay might be capable of.
A few minutes later, a window on the ground-floor burst open and the easily distinguishable figure of Dex jumped, nay flew outside, immediately went into a crouch and turned back as if expecting to be followed. For a moment I imagined I saw a spectre inside the house, but there was only silence and then a great roar, as the fire had burst into the living-room and set the curtains alight. That seemed to have been what Dex had been waiting for. He stood up, his large body radiating relief and defeat, looked around for another moment and - seeing nobody - disappeared with great loping strides into the woods.
I turned back to the burning mansion with its old walls crackling ominously, groaning and ultimately collapsing. As the flames roared higher, they seemed to reach for the moon which was hanging just as low in the sky now as on that fateful night I arrived at the manor.
Only then did I notice a strange spectre trapped amidst the flames. The pale, unearthly figure on the roof screeched like a banshee, but her horrible piercing death-cry was abruptly cut off, and I never saw whether she fell to her death or was consumed by the fire itself.
The last I ever saw of Lord Sheppard and his butler was Mr. McKay holding tightly onto his lordship as they rode bareback on the skittishly prancing mare until the darkness swallowed them.
***
* Alternative/Subtitles: „My Lord John“, „The Lord and the Governess“, Dear Prudence and finally: “Edmund A Butler’s Tale”. Gosh, I was so terribly tempted to use that last title, but it would have given away what I planned to be a slightly misleading first chapter. The same reason goes for the other rejects: snappier, but my taste runs towards red herrings.
Glossary: