Chapter 13 Francis, called Frank
When Ned thought back to this day in the years to come, he would always consider the irony that it had started so spectacularly sunny.
He had convinced Charlie to take advantage of it being Sunday—thus with no shop to open—to go for a drive in the countryside.
Forgoing Ned’s normal driver, Charlie took the car’s wheel while Ned navigated them to a discreet corner of the Thames, where they spread out on picnic blankets under the sun.
They had the perfect late English summer day to themselves.
The skies were brilliant blue, and there was still a hint of warmth in the breeze.
Ned closed his eyes to the sun, the taste of sharp cheddar and onion chutney from his sandwich lingering in his mouth, with a glass of champagne cool against his hand.
Charlie, in all his intense glory, was spread out on the blanket, hair in his eyes, jacket tossed aside, sleeves rolled up, lost in the book Ned had lent him. What more could a man desire in life?
The past month had been perfect. He and Charlie sought every excuse to see each other. Last week Ned had treated Charlie to dinner in a cosy French bistro in Covent Garden, and the memory of Charlie’s look of bliss after tasting the boeuf bourguignon could have inspired whole books of poetry.
Ned treasured this prosaic intimacy. Watching Charlie shave in the morning.
Squeezing together on the omnibus after a night at the theatre.
Walking through Hyde Park. Theirs had always been a relationship of life and death, fear and ecstasy, and these everyday moments had a modest magic all to themselves.
Smiling to himself, Ned reached out to take Charlie’s hand, feeling his rough, strong fingers against Ned’s own slim hand. Charlie’s eyes darted up, a mixture of surprise and pleasure with a hint of caution.
“Reading by the Thames is not grounds for a gross indecency charge, you know.” Ned took his hand away as he leaned over and popped a fresh strawberry in his mouth.
He wished they’d brought cream. “As stunningly attractive as you are in the sunlight, I am unlikely to start pawing at you as the result of a touch of hands.”
Charlie blushed. “I might not be able to resist you, though.”
Knowing Charlie was watching him, Ned took his time with the next strawberry, savouring the juicy bites, licking his lips. Charlie’s eyes had gone from very focused to very blurry as Ned swiped his tongue one last time. “Fucking bastard,” he muttered and shifted on the blanket.
“Perhaps if we return late to London, you’ll be obliged to stay over in the flat?” Ned let himself bat his eyelashes just a bit. It had been over a week and he was beginning to feel Charlie’s absence acutely.
Apparently he wasn’t the only one. “We need to stop talking about this now.” Charlie’s breath was coming in harsh, and his hands had clenched as if it was taking all his focus not to pounce on Ned.
He grabbed wildly at the strawberries. “I didn’t think you needed to buy books second-hand.
That one looks like it is about to fall apart. ”
Ned glanced at his copy of Cyrano de Bergerac, which did in fact resemble a scrap heap. “I did buy it new. It was a few years ago now.”
“I can’t tell if its state reflects the anger or the love you’ve inflicted on it.”
“I find it difficult to get interested in new stories. For those books I love, I read them again and again. I can open to any chapter and settle into the story.”
Charlie shifted so he was lying on his stomach. “You don’t give your heart easily, but when you do, it’s for life?” The eyebrow quirk let Ned know that Charlie was teasing him, at least partially.
“Certainly that’s the case for this book.”
“Read to me, Ned.” Charlie’s fingers touched Ned’s and lingered. Ned lay down next to him on the blanket, so close that he could sense the rise and fall of Charlie’s chest, and he began to read. Not from the beginning of the book, but right in the middle of the page. Charlie always kept up.
???
Clouds moved in and the sun disappeared.
The rain began to fall not long after, and the perfect English sun turned into the perfect English rainstorm.
Charlie insisted that Ned look after the books while he rushed to gather the blankets and food.
By the time Charlie scrambled into the motor, he was drenched.
“What’s the plan, Lieutenant? Do you think this will pass?” Charlie used Ned’s handkerchief to wipe down his face.
Ned was no expert at reading the skies, but any idiot could see the dark grey was going to be with them for a while. “Perhaps hot toddies at my flat?”
Charlie grinned. “A man after my own heart.”
Ned’s response of ‘always’ stuck in his throat.
The drive had none of the lazy relaxation of the morning, as the sudden shock of rain had flooded a fair few roads, and their detours became increasingly extensive.
But they made a good team, Charlie responsible for the immediacy of driving and Ned planning the possible alternative routes.
It was that synchronicity between them that made Ned note Charlie’s hands tensing on the steering wheel.
“What’s worrying you? We’ll find a route back to London eventually. ”
“It’s the front left tire. We hit a rock a few miles back and I can feel the pressure going. I can’t tell how bad it is, but we might only have a few miles left before it goes entirely.”
“Could you fix it?”
“With the right tools, yes. By the side of the road in a rainstorm? No.”
As much as Ned could see the romantic potential of being trapped in a motor with Charlie, this was clearly not ideal.
The motor wasn’t going to make it back to London.
Charlie needed somewhere warm to dry off.
Ned found himself sliding into his old officer pattern: situation, mission, action.
The solution was obvious, and before he could think better of it, Ned asked, “What would you say to meeting my parents?”
Charlie’s head whipped over as if to check that Ned hadn’t gone spontaneously mad. “Seems like we have other things to focus on at the moment.”
“My family’s country home is just a few miles from here. That’s how I knew about the picnic spot. I’ve no idea who is in at the moment, but there will be staff there, and we could get warm and dry and fix the wheel.”
Charlie flicked his thumb and little finger as he gripped the wheel, thinking more deeply about this than Ned had expected.
As he gripped the wheel harder to fight against whatever was going on with the tire, he finally said, “Tell me where to turn. And I’ll need to use a telephone to tell my father to open the shop without me tomorrow. ”
???
The rain had already started to clear as they drove up the long drive to the entrance to Heyworth House. Peering out of the rain-splattered windows of the car, Charlie muttered, “This isn’t a country house, it’s a bloody palace.”
Ned didn’t completely agree with Charlie’s assessment, but he would concede that his ancestors had a sense of the dramatic when they constructed the stark grey stone classical facade against the vast green lawn.
“It was built with bounty acquired by my great-great-grandfather, who was particularly successful during the Napoleonic Wars.”
Charlie’s eyes went even more bug-eyed. “With Wellington?”
“Apparently they liked to drink port together.”
“Perhaps I should park and go find the servants’ entrance?”
Ned didn’t like the nervousness that underlaid Charlie’s tone.
“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s just a house.
It creaks in the night, has drafty windows, and a problem with mice that have foiled the past four generations of owners.
” Ned took Charlie’s hand. “If nothing else, this is my family home. I welcome you here as someone I’m proud to call my friend. ”
That seemed to put Charlie slightly more at ease, even if he was still rigid as the staff came out to welcome them.
The benefit of arriving unexpectedly and soaked to the bone is that it causes so much upheaval that all other awkwardness just gets swept up in the wider commotion.
Ned found himself explaining to the footman, the head butler, and then his parents respectively the situation with the motor.
Before full introductions could even be made, he and Charlie were whisked off to warm baths with invitations to dinner.
Which is how Ned found himself soaking in a bathtub while his father’s valet brought in a freshly pressed suit.
Staring up at the ceiling, Ned reflected that this had escalated a tad more quickly than he had anticipated.
It was a pleasure to see his parents, of course, and there was nothing shameful about going for a drive with a friend, but he wasn’t used to the aspects of his life intersecting.
Ned couldn’t help but feel exposed, and he didn’t know if he was more worried about an awkward dinner or one where everyone got along.
“Jackson, is Mr Villiers settling in well?”
“I believe so, sir. Her Ladyship asked for him to be put in the Blue Room and suggested that a suit of Master Francis’ might do him for this evening.”
Ned splashed water on his face to hide a wave of emotion on hearing Francis’ name. “Mother thinks of everything. We did arrive a little underprepared.”
“But an unexpected delight.” The valet turned away from the suit and looked directly at Ned. “If I may, sir, I haven’t seen the viscount this excited for dinner in a long while.”
Ned knew his parents put on a brave face for him, for society. Of course the servants saw the truth and mourning behind it all.
With Charlie’s location secured and Jackson dismissed, Ned quickly got himself ready, enjoying the smell of his father’s cologne as he slid on the borrowed suit jacket. In temperament Ned was a lot more like his mother than his reflective father, but his size was all Pinsent blood.