Servant and Master III
Title: Servant and Master ((II)
Authors: dalehead
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Orlibean
Summary: The plot thickens…
A/N: For dienw
“I have no idea what you’re talking about sir,” Orlando had long since perfected the blank stare and used it to his advantage. “May I fetch you anything else?” he desperately wanted to get away. The aristocracy were all the same, more than anything else right now, Orlando wished he had been born French; they had the right ideas.
“Sit down,” my lord was looking at Orlando curiously. “I’d like to talk to you; it’s been a long time since I talked to anyone.”
“I have my duties to attend to sir,” if there was one thing Orlando hated, it was this faux friendliness. He didn’t want to be friends, they could never be friends, but he was a servant and at the whim of this man.
“Sit down Orlando,” it was an order.
“Yes sir,” Orlando’s voice was toneless. He perched at the end of the bed and my lord was assailed by tiredness, the weight of his responsibilities and emotions he couldn’t put a name to.
“Send my valet to me, I’d like a shave,” he sounded so despairing, so broken that Orlando faltered.
“Are you feeling ill again sir?” he moved a little nearer, looking down at my lord with pity in his eyes. The valet had gone, taken one or two small but valuable trinkets with him, but it wasn’t for him to divulge this particular piece of information.
“I’m tired Orlando…” my lord sighed. “I’m tired of living like this, tired of knowing what everyone is saying about me and tired of seeing even my servants’ knowing looks. I fell in love with a man, I prefer the company of men and I would have done my duty by my wife but she fell in love with someone else and wanted to punish me for not being him.”
A fresh wave of guilt washed over Orlando. No one cared who he had sexual relations with, why would they? He was no one. My lord came from a long line of respected gentlemen landowners, he had money and influence, even a certain amount of power; in this case it did him no favours at all.
“I’m sorry…” he didn’t know what else to say. “It must have been … difficult,” what a stupid thing to say.
“Yes, it was, it was excruciating, my mother died you know, she fled to Italy to stay with my sister and died. I never said good bye to her,” my lord sounded bitter. “I don’t care what they say about me but Mama, she was a good woman, a good mother, she didn’t deserve … well she didn’t deserve a son like me.”
“I see,” Orlando had left home and gone out to work the moment he could, had been a tiger for a while then had worked his way into gentleman’s service. He hated his father and was indifferent to his mother, she was the shadow of the woman she was before she’d nearly died giving birth to his younger sister.
“Go on,” my lord hadn’t spoken as much as this for many months.
“Your mama knew you loved her and at least she was with your sister when she died, she wasn’t alone,” not like you the words popped unbidden into his head. It was beginning to strike him how very good looking his employer was but how very sad, there was a look at the back of his eyes, it reminded him of his sister whose husband had been with the army, . He had died in battle leaving her alone to bring up a small son. Life was tough for so many people, his heart hardened once more, this was all very confusing but on balance? Maybe my lord didn’t have it so bad after all.
“What did you mean?” his voice was quiet. “When you said all those things, when you said I should be bending over for you? Do you prefer the company of men?” he knew the answer but he wanted to hear what Orlando had to say.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Orlando’s voice was equally quiet. “Sir…” he added then stood up. “I’ll send your valet to you,” he didn’t want to talk any more, what was the point? And he didn’t want to antagonise the rest of the servants. Orlando had made it his life’s work to lend how to blend in. Never to stand out from the crowd; it was his own special gift.
“Thank you,” my lord’s voice sounded so bleak Orlando almost relented but he couldn’t risk he position. If he was dismissed he stood little or no chance of getting another job and he wasn’t ready for the streets yet.
My lord watched Orlando leaving the room and sunk further into the bed. He shouldn’t have pushed the lad; he should’ve taken his time and tried to show him that he was trustworthy. The thought of a life without companionship made him sadder than he imagined he could feel.
His thoughts were interrupted, there was a light tap on the door and Mrs Kington, the housekeeper who had known my lord since he was a boy, came in.
“My lord,” she came nearer to the bed and shook her head, her lips pursed. “You’re not looking well at all,” she sighed. “And I’m afraid there’s more bad news. The valet left last night, well as far as we can tell,” she paused as my lord seemed not to hear her.
“But I was thinking, why not let young Orlando take over his duties? He shaved Mr Ilford when he sprained his wrist,” Mr Ilford was my lord’s steward, he took the greatest care of the many acres that belonged to the estate. “I know it will be a big step for him, but I think he is more than capable.”
What Mrs Kington wasn’t saying was that it would be better for all concerned if the news of the valet’s leaving didn’t go beyond the house.
“Yes,” my lord’s voice was cold, weary, Mrs Kington patted his hand. “There, there,” she remembered bandaging his knee when he was at the falling off his pony stage. “It’ll all come right in the end,” even to her the words sounded hollow.
She quietly excused herself and went in search of Orlando.
His face was a picture.
“You want me to be valet … but … I’m too young, I …”
“You’re just what my lord needs, lad, now are you going to do it or am I going to see if the under gardener’s nephew is interested?”
“When do you want me to start Mrs Kington?”
tbc
Authors: dalehead
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Orlibean
Summary: The plot thickens…
A/N: For dienw
“I have no idea what you’re talking about sir,” Orlando had long since perfected the blank stare and used it to his advantage. “May I fetch you anything else?” he desperately wanted to get away. The aristocracy were all the same, more than anything else right now, Orlando wished he had been born French; they had the right ideas.
“Sit down,” my lord was looking at Orlando curiously. “I’d like to talk to you; it’s been a long time since I talked to anyone.”
“I have my duties to attend to sir,” if there was one thing Orlando hated, it was this faux friendliness. He didn’t want to be friends, they could never be friends, but he was a servant and at the whim of this man.
“Sit down Orlando,” it was an order.
“Yes sir,” Orlando’s voice was toneless. He perched at the end of the bed and my lord was assailed by tiredness, the weight of his responsibilities and emotions he couldn’t put a name to.
“Send my valet to me, I’d like a shave,” he sounded so despairing, so broken that Orlando faltered.
“Are you feeling ill again sir?” he moved a little nearer, looking down at my lord with pity in his eyes. The valet had gone, taken one or two small but valuable trinkets with him, but it wasn’t for him to divulge this particular piece of information.
“I’m tired Orlando…” my lord sighed. “I’m tired of living like this, tired of knowing what everyone is saying about me and tired of seeing even my servants’ knowing looks. I fell in love with a man, I prefer the company of men and I would have done my duty by my wife but she fell in love with someone else and wanted to punish me for not being him.”
A fresh wave of guilt washed over Orlando. No one cared who he had sexual relations with, why would they? He was no one. My lord came from a long line of respected gentlemen landowners, he had money and influence, even a certain amount of power; in this case it did him no favours at all.
“I’m sorry…” he didn’t know what else to say. “It must have been … difficult,” what a stupid thing to say.
“Yes, it was, it was excruciating, my mother died you know, she fled to Italy to stay with my sister and died. I never said good bye to her,” my lord sounded bitter. “I don’t care what they say about me but Mama, she was a good woman, a good mother, she didn’t deserve … well she didn’t deserve a son like me.”
“I see,” Orlando had left home and gone out to work the moment he could, had been a tiger for a while then had worked his way into gentleman’s service. He hated his father and was indifferent to his mother, she was the shadow of the woman she was before she’d nearly died giving birth to his younger sister.
“Go on,” my lord hadn’t spoken as much as this for many months.
“Your mama knew you loved her and at least she was with your sister when she died, she wasn’t alone,” not like you the words popped unbidden into his head. It was beginning to strike him how very good looking his employer was but how very sad, there was a look at the back of his eyes, it reminded him of his sister whose husband had been with the army, . He had died in battle leaving her alone to bring up a small son. Life was tough for so many people, his heart hardened once more, this was all very confusing but on balance? Maybe my lord didn’t have it so bad after all.
“What did you mean?” his voice was quiet. “When you said all those things, when you said I should be bending over for you? Do you prefer the company of men?” he knew the answer but he wanted to hear what Orlando had to say.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Orlando’s voice was equally quiet. “Sir…” he added then stood up. “I’ll send your valet to you,” he didn’t want to talk any more, what was the point? And he didn’t want to antagonise the rest of the servants. Orlando had made it his life’s work to lend how to blend in. Never to stand out from the crowd; it was his own special gift.
“Thank you,” my lord’s voice sounded so bleak Orlando almost relented but he couldn’t risk he position. If he was dismissed he stood little or no chance of getting another job and he wasn’t ready for the streets yet.
My lord watched Orlando leaving the room and sunk further into the bed. He shouldn’t have pushed the lad; he should’ve taken his time and tried to show him that he was trustworthy. The thought of a life without companionship made him sadder than he imagined he could feel.
His thoughts were interrupted, there was a light tap on the door and Mrs Kington, the housekeeper who had known my lord since he was a boy, came in.
“My lord,” she came nearer to the bed and shook her head, her lips pursed. “You’re not looking well at all,” she sighed. “And I’m afraid there’s more bad news. The valet left last night, well as far as we can tell,” she paused as my lord seemed not to hear her.
“But I was thinking, why not let young Orlando take over his duties? He shaved Mr Ilford when he sprained his wrist,” Mr Ilford was my lord’s steward, he took the greatest care of the many acres that belonged to the estate. “I know it will be a big step for him, but I think he is more than capable.”
What Mrs Kington wasn’t saying was that it would be better for all concerned if the news of the valet’s leaving didn’t go beyond the house.
“Yes,” my lord’s voice was cold, weary, Mrs Kington patted his hand. “There, there,” she remembered bandaging his knee when he was at the falling off his pony stage. “It’ll all come right in the end,” even to her the words sounded hollow.
She quietly excused herself and went in search of Orlando.
His face was a picture.
“You want me to be valet … but … I’m too young, I …”
“You’re just what my lord needs, lad, now are you going to do it or am I going to see if the under gardener’s nephew is interested?”
“When do you want me to start Mrs Kington?”
tbc