Chapter 20
GEORGE
It was late when they arrived at Blackfriars, turning their mounts off the road and on to the narrow track that led to the main house.
In the distance, the sun was setting undramatically, slowly sinking through a faint watercolour wash of rose and lemon, and the air was quiet and still.
It was a few days off the longest day of the year.
George’s thighs were stiff and sore from the day’s ride, his eyes gritty with tiredness.
They had pushed hard again, rising early and only taking the shortest of rests when they changed horses.
Theo had set a punishing pace this whole last week—the one day’s break they’d had from riding had been devoted to climbing a mountain for God’s sake—but George hadn’t minded.
Despite the ache in his thigh muscles and buttocks and the bone-deep weariness that had him almost swaying in the saddle as they finally approached their destination, he felt oddly elated.
Theo had pushed him to his limits, true, but he had done so with patience and endless encouragement.
This week had been the first time in a long time that George had needed to push himself beyond what he could comfortably do, and it had been oddly exhilarating.
“Here we are,” Theo said, bringing his mare to a halt beside a stout wooden gate.
He dismounted with his usual quick elegance, opening the gate while George gazed at the two-storey house on the other side of it.
It was built of reddish sandstone with an irregular collection of windows and a shingle roof that looked a little dilapidated at first sight—George made a mental note to have a proper look at the roof in the morning.
Only one of the windows looked to be occupied, a faint light trembling weakly inside.
George dismounted then too, leading his own horse through the open gate.
“I’ll let Mrs. Ford know we’ve arrived,” Theo said, passing George his gelding’s reins to hold while he strode up to the front door.
A face briefly blurred at the single lit window when Theo rapped at the door.
Moments later, the door opened to reveal a stout, middle-aged woman in servant’s garb, a cap on her head that looked to have been hastily pulled on and tied haphazardly below her chin.
“Mr. Caldwell, sir,” she said, a little breathlessly. “I didn’t expect you so late. I was about to turn in, and the boy’s gone home—who will see to your horses?”
“Good evening, Mrs. Ford,” Theo said. “Don’t concern yourself about the horses—we'll deal with them. Though if you could arrange something for us to eat while we stable them, that would be much appreciated.”
She nodded. “I’ll manage something, sir, though I’ll have to build the fire back up first.”
“No need to go to any trouble, Mrs. Ford. Whatever you have cold in the larder will do perfectly well. Are there two bedchambers made up?”
“Yes, sir. The rooms are ready. I got your letter saying you’d be bringing a guest, and his luggage arrived yesterday. ”
“Oh, good!” Theo glanced over at where George still stood with the horses. “You’ll be pleased to hear your trunks are here.”
George grinned. “Thank God. I can’t wait to put on something clean and laundered.”
Theo laughed. "Mrs. Ford, this is Mr. Asquith. He’s a friend of mine.”
Mrs. Ford bobbed a curtsey in George’s direction. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Ford,” George said, gallantly, executing a friendly bow.
While Mrs. Ford returned to the kitchen to make them something to eat, Theo led George around the back of the house to a sizeable farmyard.
There was a well in the far left corner, a set of stables, a barn, and a small granary set off the ground with steps leading up to a little door at the top. Everything looked a bit… unkempt.
“There’s no grain in there,” Theo said, seeing the direction of George’s gaze.
“And the stable’s empty too. As is the house itself, mostly.
It’s only Mrs. Ford living in these days—she was my uncle’s housekeeper when he was alive.
Back then, there were a couple of maids, a boot boy and a stable lad too, but the other servants weren’t needed after my uncle passed away.
There's a boy who comes most days to do any heavy work and errands, but that’s all. ”
Theo wasn’t looking at George as he said this. George thought he seemed embarrassed.
“I’ll fetch water for the horses,” Theo said. “Could you make a start on unsaddling them?”
"Of course.” George led both animals into the stables, looking around curiously.
It wasn’t the best-kept stable he’d ever been in, but there was, at least, a decent pile of straw waiting to be used.
George began unbuckling the horses’ tack while Theo went back and forth to the well, sloshing bucket after bucket of water into the trough so the animals could slake their thirst. While they drank, George lifted the heavy saddle first from his own horse’s back and then from Theo’s, setting them to one side.
Theo was done fetching water by then, so they worked together, getting the horses settled, washing the mud from their legs and brushing them down as they ate their oats.
By the time the horses were fed and watered and settled into their stalls, it was fully dark.
“You must be starving,” Theo said as they tidied away the tack for cleaning in the morning.
“I could eat a horse,” George admitted, slinging his saddlebags over one shoulder to take inside.
“Shh,” Theo said with a wink. "Don’t let them hear you.” George snorted at the silly joke.
"It might be best not to get your hopes up about supper,” Theo added. “It’s clear Mrs. Ford wasn’t expecting us to arrive so soon.”
“She did seem rather surprised.”
“I suppose we are a full day earlier than I said we’d be. Shall we go and see what she’s managed to rustle up for us?”
Instead of going back around to the front of the house, he led George towards the back door. This opened directly onto the kitchen, where Mrs. Ford stood at the hearth. She turned to look at them, a little pink-faced. “Oh, there are you, sir!”
“Sorry to intrude,” Theo said, setting his saddlebags down. "I thought it might be easier for you if we ate here in the kitchen. Save you carrying dishes back and forth.”
“Thank you, sir,” Mrs. Ford said. She seemed genuinely pleased. “The fire was banked right down, but I managed to get it going again. I thought you’d want something quick so I’ve made you and Mr. Asquith some baked eggs and toast. There’s seed cake too if you’re still hungry after.”
“Baked eggs sounds like heaven,” George said happily. He’d been expecting day old bread and cheese at best, given the late hour, so the prospect of something cooked was very welcome.
“Mr. Asquith loves to eat,” Theo said as they each took a seat at the heavy oak kitchen table. “He’ll be first to breakfast every morning.”
“Well,” Mrs. Ford said, “if you enjoy your food, Mr. Asquith, I’ll be very pleased to cook for you. I’ve not had anyone to cater for since Mr. Caldwell’s last visit.”
The baked eggs and toast she set down on the table a few minutes later boded well for those future meals. The eggs were delicious, fluffy and creamy, and the toast was warm and dripping with butter.
By the time he was halfway through his eggs, George had concluded that Theo’s uncle and Mrs. Ford had had a rather informal relationship.
After her initial shock at their early arrival, the housekeeper had quickly rallied and seemed unruffled by having her master and his friend in her kitchen.
Indeed, she chatted easily to them about this and that and seemed used to such company.
“Which bedchambers have been made up, Mrs. Ford?” Theo asked when they'd finished eating.
“The master bedchamber for you, sir, and the chamber next door to it for Mr. Asquith, since it has the next-best bed in the house. Mr Asquith’s luggage is already in there.”
“Thank you. If you could give us each a candle to take upstairs, we’ll get to bed.” Turning to George, he said in an overly hearty tone that had George biting back a smile, “I daresay you’re as exhausted as I am, Asquith.”
“That I am,” George said, rising from the table. “It’s been a long day.”
While they retrieved their saddlebags, Mrs. Ford lit two chamber sticks. “Good night, sir,” she said, as she handed one of the chamber sticks to Theo. "And to you, Mr. Asquith.”
“Good night, ma’am,” George echoed, taking the second chamber stick from her with a polite nod.
He followed Theo through the low-ceilinged hallway of the old farmhouse and up a narrow winding staircase to the upper floor.
“Mrs. Ford’s rooms are off the kitchen downstairs,” Theo said as they climbed. When they reached the upper floor, he added, “There are four bedchambers up here, two on this side and two further down.” He pointed down the dark, narrow corridor.
“These are ours?” George asked, gesturing at the two worn wooden doors in front of them.
“Yes,” Theo said, opening one. “This one’s yours.
” He stepped inside, holding the door open to allow George to pass.
Theo’s candle sent a gentle circle of light out to tremblingly illuminate the room.
As George moved past him, his own candle penetrated further into the shadows, revealing the bed—a good-sized four-poster with heavy curtains held back with twisted silk cords—and a substantial sideboard which took up much of one wall.
A china ewer and basin sat atop it, a folded linen inside the bowl.
On the opposite side of the room, on the shared wall, there was another door.
Unlike the other doors in the house, which were made of sturdy, unpainted oak with large metal hasps, this door looked newer.
It stood within a modern-looking doorframe with tidy, sharp-edged architrave.
“Does that door connect to your bedchamber?” George asked.
“Yes,” Theo said, “It’s locked. I meant to ask Mrs. Ford about the key last time I was here but forgot all about it.” He yawned, then laughed. “Sorry—I’m exhausted. I’ll say good night. Tomorrow, I’ll show you round the estate. Sleep well, George.”
And with that, he slipped out, closing the bedchamber door softly behind him.
George’s gaze moved back to the unusual door. Curious, he strolled over, turning the knob experimentally. It was locked, of course. Theo had already said so.
Would Mrs. Ford have a key?
A little shiver went through George as he imagined himself unlocking that door, entering Theo’s bedchamber and sliding into his bed in the quiet darkness.
Theo’s big, warm body waiting for him under the blankets.
God damn it, he thought desperately. Pull yourself together, man. Shaking his head, he turned from the locked door and made a beeline for the pile of luggage in the corner of the room.