Realistic or Modern The Lazarus Heart

[Alleluia]

"I need you to start taking this seriously!"

Anthony lifted his head in surprise. His father, the much esteemed Sir Walcott Aldridge, 6th Duke of Wiltshire, rarely raised his voice. He had a commanding baritone and the sort of perfect pronunciation befitting his class. Those two elements combined made listening to him a compelling experience, something not easily avoidable. He rarely needed to resort to something quite so common as a shout. And yet here we were, Anthony thought.

"I am taking this seriously, father" He stopped referring to his father as papa years ago. It seemed obscene somehow, childish. His brothers soon followed, though his sister did not. None of them dared called their mother anything but maman though. It was not a fight worth having. "That is why I haven't been quick to choose a wife. Whoever I decide to marry will have to assume the responsibility of a Duchess one day. I dare say many of the young women of our circle are woefully ill equipped for that".

His father grunted in reply. A favorite fall back of his when he wanted to convey a sentiment of both agreement and displeasure with the situation.

Anthony saw an opportunity and pressed on. "That is why I'd like to stay in the London house this season" he said. "I know maman and you like having us all around this time of year. I love this house far more than I do our London abode. But if I need to be where the best matches are made, then London is where that is happening." Not true. However, London was where art and music were in abundance. Also, London was out of sight. Anthony wasn't lying when he said he loved this house. He did, wholeheartedly. But Wychwood Court, lovely and vast, ran like a tight ship. Staying there, especially with his brother's up coming announcement of betrothal, would put him under the watchful eye of his dutiful mother. Lady Margret's greatest failing, in her own eyes at least, was the fact her eldest son was not yet married.

"If you're staying in London, I'll want you to make yourself useful" his father said. "Go to the house, make sure out family is well represented".

"As is my duty" Anthony said, hiding his joy. It felt like a 'yes'. One down, one to go, he thought. But his father was always the easier one to get around. "Haven't I done a good enough job of that so far?"

A grunt.

Anthony decided to push his luck. "Haven't I?" He insisted. A grunt was open to interpretation. An admittance of his worth in the House of Lords was something he could later quote to his mother.

"You have" Walcott Aldridge was never one to give compliments easily. Anthony acknowledged the answer with a nod and decided that was as far as he was going to get today. He still had a week to go before heading back to London, assuming that request is granted. A week to go before the big betrothal announcement. He knew he couldn't possibly be away for that, or it will be perceived as an opinion on hsi brother's choice for a wife. He, for one, could care less about the origin of Matthew's betrothed. Matthew was the youngest of the duke's children. If that didn't grant a man some leeway in choosing a wife, then what on earth did? "But..."

Wait, what?

"The biggest service you can be to this family now is by assuring the line of succession is a strong one. You need to marry. You need to have children." His father moved closer, placing a heavy hand on Anthony's shoulder and giving him what he probably thought was a whimsical smile "I understand your... shall we say... reluctance to say goodbye to the life of a bachelor, my boy. I was young once." The almost smile turned into the much more familiar scowl. "The good book tells us that For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven. You remember?"

Anthony nodded obediently. "Ecclesiastes 3:1-8" he said dutifully. His father wasn't the world most religious man, but he could whip out the quotes like he was the Bishop of Canterbury when it suited him.

Sir Walcott nodded, patting his son's shoulder "A time to search and a time to quit searching" he said.

"Yes, father" The same verse also said A time to be quiet and a time to speak. Now was definitely a time to keep quiet.

********

It took another half an hour or so before he was able to excuse himself from his father's presence without being rude. He needed air, and so despite the light rain, he ducked out of the manor house and went roaming around the estate.

One of his favorite places was the small carriage house that now served as his father's garage. Sir Walcott had not much use for a car except that he wanted to own one. Anthony, however, found them fascinating. The freedom one offered seemed miraculous to him. He had little mind of mechanics and engineering, and didn't really understand how they worked. It didn't matter though. The fact of their modernism was enough, more than enough, to put him firmly on the side of alerting Britain infrastructure to accommodate more of them. He could defend that position quite well whenever needed, since he understood the economics of their use, the jobs they would create. But now he just wanted to see his father's new car. Maybe go for a drive.

"Hello?" he called out when he reached the place where the gravel road ended, and the car would be housed. "Anyone here? I'd like to see the car"

 

[HouseplantSimon]

It had been maybe less then a month since the Italian immigrant was hired at the estate. He knew he was hired because he had the most references out of those who applied, and was the most qualified to do his job. Those were the only reasons why, and it shortly became known to him that another man far less qualified was nearly hired because he was from London. And the butler would rather hire a less qualified chauffeur than an immigrant. That was the case with most estate.

But when the butler explained it to him. He told the young boy to not have a quarrel with him because of it. That for the house to represented by a proud Italian chauffeur would damage the houses reputation. And he highly advised that Svaan go by a more common name, and insist he was from London.

Which though Svaan liked the job, it paid well, kept him on his toes, and was in a nice area. He would also die before letting someone strip him of his identity. So he said nothing to the butler after that conversation. Then proceeded to go outside the residences, and spit on the gravel path.

Though the butler was the least of his worries. As much drama there was between the family, there was downstairs. Between everyone probing him for information on who he was.

There was the cook and her helper that seemed like complete duplicates. They both demanded everything to be perfect, and on time. And would take nothin less, or they heave guilt unto your shoulders. The manipulation seemed to be a weekly occurrence. He had heard this from the trembling footman that was afraid of getting sacked a week into his job. Svaan didn’t blame the guy, he was surprised he had lasted this long.

Though it was probably because he spent a good portion of his time hiding in the garage, or exploring a good field to sleep in. He avoided the downstairs as much as possible, and stayed away from the staff members unless it was to smoke. Even then, the maid was very insistent upon visiting him. And probing about what Italy was like. And cooing over how she would love to have a Mediterranean wedding, and a huge family.

The redhead was still struggling with how to tell her that she wasn’t going to get it from him. Not this Italian. And he knew very well that no women was going to get it from him. It disappointed his mother to the extent where she spoke to him through his sister and her letters. And they haven’t made contact for five years. Five years she hasn’t talked to her own and only son.

The younger man found himself lost in thought of how to prepare his next letter to his sister. The hood of the new car open, as he looked at the shiny metal. Knowing what things worked what. Knowing the car was a symbol of status and prestige. Nothing less, nothing more. Maybe something more, he wasn’t a posh lad so he didn’t understand.

Then he heard steps approaching the garage, thinking it was the maid he sighed and sent of a low string of curses. Before hearing it was a man. By the tone of his voice it sounded like one of the family members. He had yet to meet one of the privileged brats. Nor was he looking forward to it.

Turning on the Edison bulb, the golden glow cascaded over the room. Making the car look black, though it was a navy blue.
Quickly the younger male checked himself out in a mirror, slicking back his hair. And straightening out the annoying suit he was provided to wear. It was tight, and made revealed his figure. Which made him increasingly uncomfortable. After a quick inspection he went out and greeted the man.

“Hello, sir. Yes, of course you can see the car. My apologies for the wait.” Svaan said curtly. Ignoring any sort of eye contact. He was told posh folk like this, are like bears. You never make eye contact of they will strike. So he lifted the garage door with a pulley system. And there revealed the shiny car.

From back he was proud of his work. He had just polished it today, and tightened some bolts that needed to be tightened. He made sure to keep a strong gaze on the car. He would only speak when spoken to. If not spoken to, he would be considered invisible.

 

[Alleluia]

Anthony looked at the car with appreciation. It's sleek curves and glimmering shine made it seem a thing of magic. He whistled to show his appreciation as he circled it. "Gorgeous thing" he said. "Must be a delight to take out". The second time he walked around it though, was to get a covert look at the new chauffeur. Anthony hadn't been to the estate in several months, and vaguely remembered hearing that the first man they hired didn't work out. He couldn't quite recall why. He knew that his father had insisted that the next hire be thoroughly vetted for experience and references. It probably meant the first one was hired without enough diligence. A mistake that Wilkinson, their butler, was probably still chastising himself for, months after. Wilkinson did not make many mistakes.

The new chauffeur seemed rather young, then again most chauffeurs were. It was a young man's profession. He was slim and fit, which the uniform emphasized, but that wasn't what drew Anthony's eyes. His flaming red hair did. Despite being coupled with green eyes, he did not have the pale skin of an Irishman. Wherever can he be from? Anthony wondered. Living in London made him much more open minded and tolerant than most British aristocracy, though that wasn't setting the bar very high. There was something about the other man's sharp features he found interesting as well, compelling even. The house maids must be having a fit over this one. The housekeeper, Mrs Logan, was probably losing quite a lot of sleep trying to make sure everyone kept to their own bed at night. The thought made him smile.

He finished his round and stood in front of the bonnet, crossing his arms on his chest. "Say, would it be possible to go for a drive?" he asked. "I know it's not ideal weather, but if we waited for that, we might be waiting a long time indeed". This would be the perfect get away from the house for a but longer, one he could easily excuse. He could sue the drive to learn a bout more about this curious new guy. His accent when he spoke might provide some clue as to his origin.

 

[HouseplantSimon]

Svaan kept his glance low, but couldn’t help himself from watching as the man circled the car like a bear hunting prey. He wanted to agree with the man, and boast about the specifications of the car. And how he took special attention to polish not only the interior, but the mechanics inside. But with a mixture he’s created over the years. But he refrained himself. Instead watched the man.

But then when it came to them looking at him, he stood up straight and looked ahead. He could feel the man’s eyes on him, traveling from his hair to his eyes. His Adam’s Apple bobbed under the intense gaze of the other. And was more then relieved when he was addressed.

“Yes, sir. Did you have anywhere in particular you wanted to go..?” It was very clear that he was forcing a dialect a bit. He was trying to sound British. Though living so many places over the year his normal accent is heavily mixed with Italian and hints of Irish and British. He kept up his Italian accent by singing in his native language, and talking to other Italians in the area. If there was any.

After asking the man if he desired to go anywhere specifically. He closed the hood of the car that was left open, because he was working on it before the man came in. He secured the latched before walking over to retrieve the keys. He held back twirling them on his finger, shortly making eye contact with the man. Then opened the car door for the man to step in.

The older man seemed like he an air of confidence to him. Like he knew his place in society, and was well above Svaan. But he didn’t understand why the man was having trouble picking up a lass. By the looks of him, and his family title he would pick one up quite easily. Though his information on the man’s struggles to wed was second hand information from the staff. He listened to while pretending to read the paper.

 

[Alleluia]

"How about a drive around the town?", Anthony suggested with excitement. "You can tell me about yourself when we go. I'm Anthony, the Duke's eldest" He assumed the chauffeur knew, as he assumed more people who met him knew who he was. It still showed good manners to introduce oneself. "I don't think you were here last time I came around. I mostly stay in our London house. You're clearly taking excellent care of this beauty."

He slid into the seat next to the chauffeur, thrilled about the small adventure they'll be having. He hadn't been to the town on his last visit, which his mother reprimanded him for. The people need to see us, she told him. We have a duty to inspire them. He wasn't sure why seeing him walk around the streets of Wychwood was particularly inspiring, but maybe seeing him in a car would accomplish a similar goal.

"How have you found Wychwood Court so far?" He asked. While he assumed he won't be getting the full truth form the man. They only met and the man was new into the family's service, it took a while to grow comfortable with them. Some never did. So he'll probably just get a bit of polite small talk. But that would at least accomplish the sating of his curiosity. Anthony was eager to hear the other man speak again. That accent was impossible to pin down, and so intriguing. It had a foreign lilt that he couldn't place, Spanish perhaps? he though. It would explain the lack of pallor. And god, those eyes.

 

[HouseplantSimon]

“Yes, sir.” Svaan replied as he started up the car with a satisfied purr. Pulling out a bit he looked both ways to see if anyone was coming. Then turned onto the road and drove in the direction of Wynchwood court. He pondered how he should introduce himself to the man. Mr. Wilkinson’s words echoing in his head. For a moment he thought about white washing himself, but his pride outweighed it.

“My name is Svaan Gounouf, sir....” When he spoke out his name the Italian accent came out, his last name held a more Scandinavian twang to it. Though he did not speak language. That was just how he was taught to pronounce it. “I’m a foreigner here, have been for years...” Svaan explained as he watched the road and articulated debated giving out where he was from. “I grew up on the coast of Italy, came here when I was eighteen.... The hair cones from my dad, I’m half Scandinavian...” He explained noticing how the man looked at his hair and eyes with curiosity.

“I was hired less then a month ago by Mr.Wilkson, so no I don’t think you at the estate when I was hired.” Svaan spoke mulling over if he had to address anything else the man has asked him. The car went into a forest tunnel of sorts. The tree’s so tall they shaded the ground provided a light break. Surrounding them were a mass grove of tree’s, wildlife, and hidden treasures yet to be discovered. Svaan took the time to appreciate the small tunnel, before coming out the other end. Wychwood Court in view and no less then a five minute drive away.

“It’s very...” Svaan sighed and tried to find the words to put it politely. Underwhelming? Slow? “Small... very small sir...” He nodded figuring those words worked. “Everyone knows each other, and ... knows of each other...” He talked with his hands a bit, gesturing as they were on the steering wheel. “Which I don’t mind sir, just different...” He shrugged.

The rest of the way he made sure to watch out for people crossing the road, before arriving into town. Where he went much slower, and was a lot more patient. Casually he glanced at the man to see if he was looking at anywhere in particular to go. Still couldn’t figure out why the man couldn’t find a wife. Then looked to the local shops, wondering if he had anything he needed. His eyes on a particular flower shop, attracted to the beauty of the roses and a bouquet of wildflowers. Reminding him he had to pick some flowers to send home. “Just a drive around town, sir..?”

 

[Alleluia]

Svaan Gounouf, Anthony thought with amusement, was not the name I would have guessed for this man. Scandinavian and Italian, not only was that combination rare, it was quite exotic as well. Well, that explains his good looks. Poor Mrs Logan. Anthony was sure now that he was in very good hands indeed with this man. As conservative as he was, Mr. Wilkinson would only hire a man named Svaan Gounouf if he was the absolute best there was. Given any other option, he would have opted to hire an Englishman. "I cannot possibly pronounce your last name without butchering it" he said. "So I shall be forced to call you Svaan." It had an odd, personal feeling to it. He'd only ever referred to the male servants of the house by their last name.

"You're right about the pace of things in Wychwood Court," Anthony nodded in confirmation when Svaan made his observation. "though the next few weeks might change your mind temporarily. There's to be a family announcement, so my parents will be holding a few events. The house will be filled with guests and their staff. My father will be wanting to show off the car, so I imagine he'll have you working quite hard next week. Picking up guests from the train station. Taking them around the area for a drive. Should make for a nice change of pace." Of course, after that, the place will slide back to its monotonous pace.

He kept quiet for a while after that, enjoying the sights of the English countryside as they neared the village closest to Wychwood Court, conveniently named Wychwood. There were four other villages nearby who were part of the land owned by the Aldridge family. Wychwood was neither the biggest not the prettiest. Yet it held a special place in Anthony's heart. He had played there often as a child. Or as often as he was allowed to play in any rate, which wasn't that much. There was a certain sense of freedom when you got there, as if some of the expectations and restriction of life in the manor house were temporarily lifted. As a child, people seem to delight in him. Adulthood brought more... expectations.

They drove the streets of Wychwood, at least where they were wide enough to allow the passage of a car. Nothing ever changed in the village. Store after store sold the same thing they always did, owned and managed by the same family for generations. There was a lot of charm in that. Still, it made him miss London, an ever changing city. "Yes, just a drive" he answered distractedly. "Have you ever been to London? You'll like it". A few residents recognized the car and its occupant, and took their hats off in polite greeting when he passed. Anthony gave them a nod of acknowledgment. Were they also concerned about the heir's failure to marry? Did they give one whit about it?

He knew he was running out of time. He may be able to defer it a bit longer, but not for long, not forever. How was he to find a wife if he found women so utterly uninspiring? Yes, some were interesting and clever, though precious few of those belonged to his class. But as a partner for his life, he had yet to meet one he could see himself living with, sharing his bed with.

His mood was souring. He needed a distraction. "Say, Svaan, if you're new around here, you might not have gotten to Asherby grove, have you? Lets go there" he gave the younger man directions to the location of the scenic place. It was one of his favorite spots, not just in these parts, but ever. Happy memories came to him when he thought of Asherby grove. He sure could use some right about now.

 

[HouseplantSimon]

As they were in town Svaan smiled a typical learned smiled, learned from politics and the job. Though to everyone else it seemed at least half genuine if not all. His smile lines at full use, and his dimples showing as he nodded to people. Some he even mouthed a hello too. While the people of Wychwood included gossip as a main activity, which trouble the young Italian native. He still favored them above the house staff. So he was expectantly nicer.

“I lived in London for a couple years before coming here, sir. It’s a busy place.” Svaan said a little distracted as he made sure he was on a street wide enough, and that he didn’t run anyone over. As they drove out of town by the man’s direction, and to where ever the man was taking them he began to question if this is more than a drive. Perhaps he trying to get away from something, loose himself. To the though Svaan felt a little sympathetic.

“Do you enjoy the beauty of busy London over the English country side, sir... if ya’ don’t mind me askin’...” Svaan engaged, as he figured he might as well help the man loose himself. If that was indeed the purpose of this car ride. Plus the sooner he looses himself and relaxes, the sooner he can get him home. Lord knows Mr.Wilkinson was probably calling upon him right now.

Taking the directions they arrived at what he assumed to be Asherby grove. He pulled over and stopped the car, assuming the man would want to explore this place. To which Svaan allowed himself to explore with his eyes. It was... peaceful. To say the least. It reminded him of the open fields back home, where when he was not working he was lay in. He would take long naps with the sun dancing over his skin. And when he got hungry he could simply walk a bit, and pick from the fruit of the land. There were no worries back in those days. Svaan smiled fondly at the memories, trapped in dreamy haze as he rekindled the memories of his past.

 

[Alleluia]

If he lived in London for a long period of time, he might know his way around the city. I wonder if father will let me borrow Svaan and the car for a while. It will be great having an automobile to taking him around the city. He wondered how long it would take to drive there, and would it be better than taking the train. If so, he can perhaps have it both ways for a while. Keep his parents happy by living here, and keep his own sanity intact by popping in and out of London.

"I love them both, if I'm honest" he answered Svaan's question gladly. "The country side is where I grew up. But London is where... is where I can be myself." Best not dwell too much on what that meant. London was a haven of mischief and loose morals. There was a lot he could explain away to himself if it was done there. The rolling hills of the countryside didn't leave a lot of room for hide and seek with the truth.

And then there was the grove. It started out as a pleasing swathe of rolling green grass, dotted with daisies. Then, an enclosure of beautiful birch trees. Beyond it, a small lake currently completely hidden from sight. You had to know it was there. Mostly it was too cold to dip more than your feet in. But sometimes, in summer... Cuddy...

Anthony was startled by the intrusion of the name creeping into his thoughts. He hadn't thought of his friend for ages. It took some doing, in fact, it took a lot of doing, but Cuddy was banished to the furthermost recesses of Anthony's mind. A childhood friend, no more. One he hadn't seen for years and years. One whose image came frighteningly easy to him now. Youthful. lithe and smiling.

He needed to shake off the feeling that grabbed him and what better way that to actually be moving. Since Svaan had stopped the car earlier, Anthony now jumped out of it, not bothering with the door. "Come on, man" he said. "Let me show you the jewel of the area."

 

[HouseplantSimon]

He watched the man get out, and followed suit. More to make sure the man was safe from harm than anything else. The younger man followed closely behind looking at the grasses. Occasionally stopping to pick a flower. Once getting enough to the point he was satisfied, he put a few in his pocket for his sister. Then worked on making a crown.

As his fingers softly broke the stems and intertwined them. Softly humming an Italian song to himself, occasionally words or verses would slip out from his mouth. But he would go back to humming.

Once he was done, he walked went to walk up the man. From a distance he finally got to get a good look at him. Startling brunette locks against the patches of sunlight that came in through the tree’s and the lush green. Not bad of a figure, and he could tell the man had soft skin. He still didn’t understand why the man wasn’t married.

Walking up beside the man he offered him the flower crown. “I know it’s juvenile.. but it compliments your soft features... “ Svaan spoke matter of factly, having a change in tone after coming to terms of relaxation in nature. His speech less mocked a British accent, and now held the quality of the language he grew up knowing. With hints of all the places he’s lived so far. Cautiously he shrugged and said. “As well as,, would doesn’t want a crown...” Svaan finally laughed, as soft and momentary as it was. It was the first time he did it since meeting the man. As well as a genuine cheery smile seemed to making its way on his lips. As his emerald eyes searched the forest with curiosity.... and napping places.

 

[Alleluia]

Anthony walked ahead, not waiting for Svaan who was taking his time. He was eager to make it to the line of trees. From there, it was only a few steps until the little lake was visible. That was where he stopped, leaning against on of the birches.

It was colder in the shade, and wetter, and still it felt good to be here. Svaan had caught up with him, offering a crown of flowers, and a flowery speech to match. Anthony accepted the gesture wordlessly, placing the crown on his head. His eyes studied the other man's carefully, searching for hints. The grove was silent but for their easy breathing and the occasional sound of rain water splattering when the wind shifted a leaf.

There was a way to know, he had learned. Subtle hints they dropped. Careful at first, more daring when the first attempts went without rebuke. He had done it too, learning the fine art of deniability. Say something too obvious, and it will be hard to retract. Say something that can be interrupted in more than one way, then ridicule the man rebuffing you for having completely missed the point. But subtlety required mastery. Of language, of culture. Foreigners were often just that...foreign. And such was the case with Svaan, no doubt. That gesture, that line, they probably translated into something quite harmless in Italian.

He turned his head, snapping out of his loaded stare at the other man's fascinating features. "Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown" he said to break the too long silence. Let his father quote from the bible. He'd escape to the words of the bard any day of the week. "It's beautiful here, isn't it?" His hands gestured to their surroundings. "Private too. I come here when I need to be by myself." That was true now, it hand't always been that. But those days were long gone, their memory buried. "By horse usually. I haven't been to the stables since I've been back, come to think of it. I really should. I should take out Marquis for a run. Do you ride, Svaan? Or are engines more your style and speed?"

 

[HouseplantSimon]

Svaan knew the line the man spoke of as it echoed nostalgia from his childhood. The days before work going to church, his mother reciting the Bible... forcing him to read the Bible. He grew up in a strongly rooted catholic household, like most if not all in his abode. It has haunted him more, than has given him comfort over the years. To think of it, he hasn’t picked up the Bible or attended a service in a year or so. Nor did he feel guilt for it. Only his mothers voice to scold him.

Svaan nodded as he looked around. “Very beautiful, sir... I can only imagine would it be like to spend ones youth here...” He said softly and looked to the grove floor. Where he picked up some more flowers, this time putting them in his own hair. Then going back down to pick up an isopod like insect. It crawling all over his hand. He grinned as he watched it, just overjoyed by the little fella enjoying his company.

“I ride sir, not often though.. haven’t gotten the time to ride sir... I can talk to the stable men when we’re back...” He spoke up looking to the man to see if that is what he wanted. “Engines and speed comes with the job. I prefer slow walks... and picnics...” Svaan thought on his answer pleasantly. He liked taking this slow, to enjoy what you have in front of you. To truly savor the beauty that nature has gifted you. Looking back down at the insect he noticed it was starting to go up his sleeve. So quickly he put it back down. Settling it on a near by rock. Hoping it would be okay.

“You don’t seem much like slow walker sir...” Svaan spoke as he thought of what the man truly seemed like. “More of a ... “ He thought on the words. He knew them well in Italian, but was struggling to translate them. “High life... you like energy... shiny things...” Svaan wasn’t satisfied with how the words came out. But it would have to do.

 

[Alleluia]

Antony laughed, delighted at the observation. "You're right" he nodded. "I guess you can say I'm a bit of a restless spirit". There was something about the way Svaan reacted to this surrounding that made him like the other man. He seemed at ease here, in his element. Anthony didn't often take people to Asherby grove. While it wasn't quite a secret, there were plenty of other places to visit around the estate that drew more crowds. In fact, he had never come across any person, male or female, he did not personally tell about this spot. It was his.

"We should get back" he said with some regret. The air was getting chillier, the threat of more serious rain imminent. There was something enchanting about this place, something dangerous. He should avoid it. He was no longer a boy. He slid the crown of daisies off his head and hung it on a low branch. "For the fairies" he offered, in a way of explanation. He started making his way back to the car then, turning his back on Svaan.

****

Anthony was quiet on the drive back to the manor house. His head was elsewhere. He barely looked around at the scenery they passed, acknowledging nodes and doffing of hats only barely, more instinctively than with any intent. In two days guests will start arriving. Family and friends. In a week, the formal celebration of the announcement. Many more people will be arriving for that. Friends of Matthew. He wondered if Barnaby Merriweather will be among them. He was Cuddy's cousin. He'll know what his old friend was up to these days, if Anthony only dared ask.

I won't, he told himself sternly. There's no reason. We haven't seen each other in years.

You should, another voice argued back. There's no harm in that. There's nothing wrong about asking about a childhood companion. Nothing odd.

His out tightened to a thin line. He had learned to mask pain as displeasure, an expression he had seen all too often on his father's face. Nothing odd at all.

 

[HouseplantSimon]

Svaan perked up at the sudden change of mood. The man wanted to leave. He wondered if he had said anything to offend the man, or if he acted to casual around him. Ether way Svaan followed after him. Momentarily looking at the flower crown, frowning a bit. Then climbing into the drivers seat once he arrived at the car, and driving them home.

The wind started to pick up knocking the flowers out of his hair. For the best, if Mr.Wilkinson saw him in a such a state he would probably get sacked. He’s probably going to get sacked eventually, he knew the butler was waiting for him to slip. So he could fire Svaan for another reason other than being an immigrant, and hire a British man. It made his blood boil. But he softened as he noticed that his companion was silent. As opposed to earlier.

In fact he seemed to be troubled by something, even displeased. It made Svaan worry he had in fact done something. He wanted to ask what’s wrong, but if the man was truly displeased with him he would know soon. He would know in the form of gossip and the butler firing him for displeasing the son of the duke. This is why he disliked privileged posh kids. There societal role gave them way to much power.

Pulling into the estates, he pulled into the garage. And turned off the car. Then proceeded to get out, and go around the car and open the door for the other. He didn’t look at the man, maybe he nodded. He would wait to be addressed.

Seeing as it was stormy outside, as well as windy. There was no time for a nap, rather he would probably hide out in the garage smoking. Or wander over to the downstairs and read the paper. Depends on how he felt.

 

[Alleluia]

Anthony got out of the car and shook the chauffeur's hand warmly. He had long, sender fingers and the rougher touch of a man who actually worked for a living. "Thank you, my good man" he said. "For indulging my whim. I suppose I'll have to defer the horse ride I was hoping for until the rain eases." He turned and began walking away, then turned again. "Mum's the word about the Asherby grove" he said, putting his finger to his lips. "I'd hate to see it overrun by curious visitors. Lets keep it between us". Turning again, he shoved his hands in his pockets and headed back to the manor house. Back home.

Lunch was a dreary affair. The rain hadn't let up, and they took it in one of the smaller rooms. His mother seemed in a bad mood, but Anthony had no idea why. He needed her much more cheerful if he was to gain the concessions he hoped for. "Your sister will be arriving tomorrow," she said, putting aside the spoon and indicating she was done with the pea soup. The slowest eater in the family, she was often the last one the servants were waiting for before they could clear the table and bring in the next dish. "You should send your driver to pick her up from the station" she directed that to her husband.

Sir Aldridge muttered something that was probably a yes. Wilkinson, ever at attention at the edge of the room said "I'll see to it that he does, my lord."

"Which reminds me," Anthony said. "I asked the new chauffeur to drive me around this morning. Good man, Wilkinson. You did well finding him. I know he's not usually what I'd call your cup of tea, but it seems to me he does the staff credit".

Wilkinson seemed flushed with pride. "One does one's best, sir" he said, standing a little taller. "His references were impeccable."

"Is Ursula coming alone, maman?" Anthony asked his mother. She had made no reference to her husband. "Won't Edmund be joining her?"

"He'll come in a day or two" His mother said. "He went hunting in Somerset with the young prince. Why she won't wait for him instead of traveling on her own like a maiden is beyond me".

Ah, so that's why. His mother had plenty of reason to feel frustration with her four grown children, and his bachelorhood was not helping. He should stay low until George arrives with his daughter. Named after her paternal grandmother, Marguerite was one of the few things that made the duchess smile nowadays. Though perhaps the thought of her moving away to the United States will put a damper on that source of joy as well. Oh, boy.

"I'd like to go riding this afternoon, if the weather permits it" he said as the main course was being put in front of them. "Will either of you care to join me?"

 

[HouseplantSimon]

The handshake was something normal, or he assumed so. As predicted the man’s hands were smooth, and soft as the texture of silk. Typical of a nobleman. Then watched the man put a finger to his own lips, looking maybe a little to long at his lips for a man raised in a catholic house. But long enough for a man that stares at pretty men.
Then watched as he walked away, back to his life. His posh life, that he would never know, and never would get to see into that secret life. Just as Anthony would never live his life, or experience the labor he has. Two split lives, as it should be. He supposed.

For a good portion of the afternoon he listened to the rain fall, and drafted a letter to his sister.

” Dear Sarah,

Life is the same as every other manor here, maybe just a little different. The townsmen people are much like the staff in the downstairs. Everyone knows each other here, for one reason or another. Or for many. Rumors and gossip spread faster then fire, something you’re akin to in your novels. While upon discussion of your novels, I hope you’re hitting the studies hard. Read, learn, absorb. Ignore love, do not act upon what those romance novels advise you to do. Romance will not get you money. It will only give you..”

The redhead man stopped there. What did romance give you?


A couple days have passed since Svaan has drafted said letter. Still hadn’t gotten to finishing the last bit, and now wondered if he would ever get the time to do. To say the house was busy, is an understatement to the highest degree.

Every morning the butler Mr.Wilkinson held meetings to inform everyone of there roles for today. Making sure to keep them on task with what is to be prepared, before the arrival of Ursula and Edmund. Svaan had been informed that he set to pick up Ursula from the station. And that he was expected to no less be a gentleman but have the car in prestige shape.

It had gotten to the point where everyday he was taking a paint brush to the car to polish and clear the crevices he could not reach, and the eye could not see. But wanted to make sure he preformed the job well.

 

[Alleluia]

The next two days flew by in a whirlwind of arrivals and preparations. Other than his sister and her daughter, followed by her husband the next day, a close friend of his father arrived. After that, two old aunts on his mother's side and a cousin on his father side. That man was twice removed and rude as a bear, but he was rich and well connected so everyone tolerated his early presence. And of course, all of those arrived with their staffs in tow. Downstairs, Anthony thought, must be a nightmare. Svaan would be the only lucky one, with the garage giving him a space of his own to get away to. After two days like this, Anthony had to get away too. London wasn't an option but the weather has improved enough so that riding was once again a possibility.

He rang for the butler. "Wilkinson," he said, seated in his chair though he was itching to get out of it. "I'd like to take Marquis out. Can you have the stables ready him for me?" From the opposite armchair, his father lowered the edge of the newspaper he was reading and glared at him, then resumed his reading. That wasn't a no, Anthony decided.

"Of course, sir. When would you like them to be ready with him?"

Now, please, for the sake of my sanity! But he couldn't very well say that. "Lets say twenty minutes?" He made his voice as casual as he could. Lord Aldridge mumbled something.

"Very well, sir" Wilkinson turned to leave, then remembered something and tuned back, his face ashen. "My word, sir! I've completely forgotten. I've sent all the footmen away with Mrs. Rockwell. There's some much that needs bringing up from the village she asked for all the able hands I could spare. If I had known you'll want to go riding...".

"I can go by mys..." Anthony stopped when he saw the older servant begin to turn red. The thought of sending his master's son riding alone seemed beyond him. "Is there anyone about?"

"Of the men, only the chauffeur and myself. I supposed I could..."

"You most certainly will not!" Lord Aldridge interfered.

Anthony laughed. "I wouldn't dream of it, father" Nor would he want to. Especially when the alternative was a perfectly pleasant, handsome young man. "The chauffeur would do nicely. I happen to know he can ride too. He mentioned it to me when he drove me around." For some reason the thought of Svaan's company sent a muted trill of anticipation through him. The foreigner's ways were, if nothing else, a welcome distraction from the humdrum of British mannerism that's been suffocating this house for days with more to come. Yes, that's what I need. Fresh air, the wind in my hair and Svaan's company. It sounded positively restorative.

 

[HouseplantSimon]

The house was busy, to say the least. Svaan was very busy. To the point the man thought he was nearly being called to do something every thirty minutes, and it echoed in his dreams. Currently he was surviving off of four hour nights, and no naps.

This habit making it expectedly hard to deal with the act he played for the posh folk of being near constantly happy. And then continuing to play that in the downstairs which he was required to be in more often due to his sudden rise in usage.

This sudden rise in usage was requested of him today, for secular reasons as opposed to driving. The infamous butler arrived downstairs and promptly made his way into the dining area where he found the red head reading the paper.

“Svaan.” Mr. Wilkinson said curtly to attract the man’s attention. When he did, he continued. “You are to ready two horses for Sir Anthony. As he wants to ride today, and you will be his companion.” He informed the young with nether displeasure, not happiness. He stood for a moment longer before turning on his heels and leaving.

To which Svaan sighed. Wondering if he was up for an activity such as that, though he knew he had no choice. Setting his paper down he did as told. Made his way to the stables, talked the stable boy for a bit. And made sure two horses were prepared for a ride.

One was a chocolate brown color that shined with a silver gleam in the sunlight. A strong proud horse with an aura of greatness. The one he was riding was a black horse that seemed like a gentler spirit. Waiting upon Anthony the man pet the horse. Whispering sweet little nothings to it.

 

[Alleluia]

"There you are, Marquis!" Anthony said to the regal horse with genuine joy as he neared the stables. "I missed you, boy! Did you miss me?" Approaching the steed from the side, he patted the long, graceful neck and added a long scratching motion. "Good day, Svaan" He greeted the put upon chauffeur as he was reestablishing his bond with the horse. "I hope you don't mind being dragged away from your car to ride with me. It seems all the other men are gone in service of the kitchen and my father just about had a fit at the thought of poor Mr. Wilkinson trying to keep up with me and Marquis here. Yes, we'll go for a good old run, won't we, Marquis?"

The stable boy, having heard Anthony's voice, hurried out with the mounting block, placing it to the horse right. "Ready, sir?" he asked anxiously. He was a slim boy from the village that Anthony thought might be also named Anthony.

"That I am," he confirmed. He mounted the block, as the boy moved to hold Marquis in place. Anthony grabbed the reigns tightly with his left hand, then put his left foot in the stirrup and hoisted himself up gracefully, sinking slowly into the saddle as so not to hurt Marquis' back. Once seated, he adjusted his position and posture slightly and let out a small whoop. It was good to be in the saddle again.

The stable boy moved quickly to check the girth. "Stirrup alright, sir?" he asked as he fussed with the straps, ensuring they weren't too loose or too tight.

"It's fine, fine. Anthony is it?"

"Willie, sir. Anthony's my older brother".

"Right them, thank you, Willie. I'm good. If you'll be so kind as to help my man here, we can be on our way."

He trotted Marquis around a little to warm him up, as Svann mounted. The other horse wasn't just a simple beast, but it had saddle bags Anthony imagined had been packed with food and water in case he got hungry. Wilkinson was nothing if not thorough, he knew. Though that might actually be Mrs. Logan's doing. "What's he called?" he tossed the question over his shoulder as he circled the the two men. "The animal?"

"Hopper, sir. Though he's as docile as they come. You needn't worry".

"Oh, I'm not." He hoped Hopper wasn't a slow horse. Poor Svaan might lag behind considerably if he was. Unlike himself, dressed in his riding gear, the chauffeur work plain clothes. His formal cap had been left for the sake of something more serviceable. He'd look quite handsome in riding clothes, Anthony thought randomly, then shook his head, giving the reigns a bit more freedom so the trot increased in speed. You're not in London, he reminded himself sternly. Wychwood Court is no place for your games.

"Are you ready, Svaan?" he asked eagerly. The other man had mentioned he wasn't much for fast rides, but the last few days have been so stale and stifling, Anthony felt the need to get away erupt from him. He needed the rush of wind in his hair and his clothes, he needed the fresh air feeling his lungs. He needed to outrun his own mind. "Try to keep up!" he called out, as he began riding. "Don't worry if you lose me. I'll find you again once I get this out of my system!" and with that, he moved the horse from a trot to a canter by pressing his heels to his side.

 

[HouseplantSimon]

His ears perked up upon hearing the other approach the stables. Noted the tone, and accent of acquired nobility. Something that he lacked. Looking over he saw the man, acting much like a boy as he interacted with his horse. Throughout his years of working with nobles, the ones with most stress, seemed to be the ones that acted the youngest. He wondered if the man held a great burden over his shoulders. Looking away, he mentally scorned himself for such thoughts. Anthony wasn’t his to think about, nor to care for.

His hands glided over the top of the horses nose, petting him, whispering sweet little things in Italian now. He spoke to much of the animals in Italian. Knowing that it was the tone they reacted to, not the language. “Good day sir...I don’t mind going for a ride, sir..” He said in response. Even if he did protest the activity, he wasn’t going to risk loosing his job.

Svaan had to stop himself from fighting against Willie’s help for mounting the horse. Though he did do much of the work. Remarking to himself that back home there was times where he would ride without a saddle. And try to catch wild horses. But said nothing, except thanking Willie for his kindness.

Once he was all saddled up, and had watched Anthony ride off. Running, whether it was to just ride or rather run from something else was not his concern. Svaan trotted the horse around for a warm up. Getting used to Hopper, and trying to learn what Hopper was like. Before loosening up and allowing Hopper to go at his own pace.

Hopper wasn’t a wild mustang, or a bronco with the power of the earth in its huffs and the wind calling its name. Rather he was a gentle horse, and sensitive to the calls of the wind. He felt sympathy for the horse, and only moved at the pace he wanted to. Which was nether a trot, nor a run. A light sprint maybe. Keeping Anthony in watching range.

One couldn’t help but to see the grace and elegance Anthony held on a horse. As if the wind and him were lovers. Lovers with history, anguish, and passion. He rode the horse as if he was running away with the wind. It nearly made his throat dry, as he hasn’t witness such beauty. Not in a man, a woman, or quite anything else.

 

[Alleluia]

It felt good to ride. The wind in his hair, the raw power between his legs. Anthony raced down the green path without giving much thought to anything else in the world. For several minutes he rode like that, letting his cares slip away, the weight lift from his shoulders. No demanding father, no impending marriage, no searing pain for the life he cannot live. The muscles of his thighs protested, having gone so long without practice, but he didn't care. I should go riding every day, he thought. If I am forced to be here, then at least I should be allowed to feel free for an hour every day. Surely that's not too much to ask.

Slowly, he unwound. As the tension left his body, he relaxed his hold on Marquis' reins, allowing the horse to slow down a little. a little after that he recalled his escort and turned to look for him. He had gotten so far ahead Svaan was a mere dot in the background. He was sprinting Hopper in the right direction, seemingly not in any hurry to catch up with his reckless master. Anthony smiled, thinking it was kind of him. Many servants would take it upon themselves to mollycoddle him, worried that if he fell and hurt himself they would be blamed. The chauffeur, it seemed, was not quite so worried. He trusted Anthony to have the wisdom and experience not to break his neck.

That trust probably came from observation. Anthony recalled the way Svaan had handled the animal earlier, speaking to it softly in his fluid, supple language. He knew a smattering of Italian and Spanish, though he spoke French much better, but hadn't been close enough to hear what the red head was telling his mount. He suspected it was nothing of much importance, that he was applying his tone much more than his words. He had experience with horses and probably recognized Edward knew what he was doing.

Leaning forward on the pommel of his saddle, Anthony thought the other man cut quite an impressive figure. Perhaps impressive is not the right word, though, he thought. Stirring seemed more apt. Pleasing. Beautiful. That was it. He is beautiful. This image belonged in a frame, though no museum would hang it.

To cut off that line of thinking, he galloped Marquis toward the approaching man. "You were being modest, weren't you?" he said as he came nearer "the other day when you said you ride but not often. You might not have had recent practice, but you're handling that animal like a natural rider". He was panting a little, from his earlier exertion. "What other hidden talents do you have, Svaan?"

 

[HouseplantSimon]

The red head moved his attention back to the horses movements. Occasionally petting the others neck to give it praise for going at a nice comfortable pace. He often admired the temperament of a good horse. It reflected the temperament of a good owner. Keeping this in mind he would have to try to make friends with the stable boys eventually.

He was awoken from his moment with the horse as he heard the pummeling of hooves coming in his direction. His head shot up only to see Anthony coming his way, to which he made sure to go a little slower. So it was easier for Anthony to catch up.

Upon his arrival he gathered the change in mood. He seemed happier, like a bird being released from its cage. A youthful glow coming off from the other. “Sir, I was only going at the pace of the horse... I would like to make friends with the horse...” He explained patting its neck. “Hopper has a soft heart, and wants to enjoy the beauty thats here.. though I don’t blame Marquis for wanting to claim the land...” He laughed to himself, briefly making eye contact with the other. “I think you’ll find I have lots of hidden talents sir. But you’ll only know the ones I have as your chauffeur...” It was a bold statement. It left room for mystery upon what other talents he had. Though brought abruptly to point out the limitations of there relationship. Was he testing the waters? Perhaps. Before he could give the other time to think he followed up with.


“Though I think there is a time and a place to trot comfortability... Now isn’t the time... “ Svaan leaned forward, a devilish grin finding it’s way to his lips. “Do try to keep up...” He teased the man, even mocking his accent a bit. Before hitting the sides of the horse with his feet. Causing Hopper to hurry forward into a quickened run. To which Svaan lifted himself into a stance more suitable for fast riding. Steadying himself as he looked far into the horizon. He rode until he could hear the wind call his name, until the ground beckoned beneath him. Until he could taste spring on his tongue, and youth on his lips. Yes, he was being reckless. But there was a time to be professional, and there was a time to let go.

For a moment he let the fear of letting go wash over him. As he listened for the other to follow behind him.

 

[Alleluia]

Anthony laughed at Svaan's teasing remark. The man is clever, he thought with amusement. Finally, someone around here he makes for good company. He supposed it was his Italian blood that made him speak more openly, not feeling as constrained by the British class system as most of his peers. Lord Aldridge might not approve, and Mr Wilkinson surely did not, but Anthony didn't mind it one bit. London was by far less formal than Wychwood Court. He was used to quite a bit more informality, and it rarely bothered him. When it came accompanied with wit, he rather enjoyed it too.

He was about to return a remark, when Svaan issued his challenge and with a sudden burst of speed from the accommodating Hopper, launched ahead. Anthony stared at him for another minute, surprised. Then he hollered his approval and spurred Marquis to give chase. The thrill of the chase was even better than the free ride he had given himself over to earlier. He leaned forward in the saddle, noticing the way Svaan handled his mount. He was used to horses, but perhaps a diffrent breed, or a diffrent riding style. His form lacked polish, but the other man didn't seem like he cared much. The joy on his face was clear.

He was a good rider, but Anthony enjoyed the advantage of a superior horse. He overtook the chauffeur, calling out to him, egging him on. "Is that the best you've got, Svaan?" he shouted. "Perhaps you should stick to cars then!". Another burst of speed coaxed out of Hopper and they were riding abreast of each other, both tossing sideways glances at their rival to see who is getting the upper hand. Not wiling to push his advantage further, Anthony tapped his heels to his horse's side gently, indicating to Marquis that he can slow, then threw his hands up in the air in mock defeat. "I yield, you beast" he called out. "Poor Hopper hasn't been ridden like that since he was brought into our stables, I'll wager. I pity the poor soul who mounts him next. Now that he's had a taste of running with the wind, he might not be such a docile animal any longer".

He looked around, noticing they had gotten quite a bit to the east of the manor house. A clump of trees nearby seemed like a good place for a rest. "Lets take a break," he said, pointing toward the trees with the reins in his right hand, and clicking his tongue for Marquis to head that way. "I'm feeling a bit peckish, lets see what good old Bertha packed for us."

 

[HouseplantSimon]

Upon the other mentioning that it had been awhile since Hopper had been taken out like this. He felt a pang of sympathy for the horse, and promised he would apologize to him later. He would steal some apples and what not. He petted his horse and lightly pulled back a bit on the reins. Telling the horse to slow down until he matched the speed of Anthony.

Svaan followed the other in the direction of the clump of tree’s. Then looked for a clearing for them to take a break. His horse trotting besides the other, as he scanned the area. The trees took up a large portion of the forest, amongst the occasional flowers, brush, and mushrooms. So naturally it blocked out most of the light, and allowed for a bit of shade. Almost eerily he spotted a patch of clearing encircled by tree’s. The superstitious part of him told him not to go into that clearing. But it also looked so pleasant. With little flowers, nature encircling the area, and a nice place to rest. “I think there sir would be a suitable place...” Svaan commented pointing out the clearing before moving ahead. It was a three minute trot to the little oasis.

The Italian native carefully dismounted, and tied up his horse to a sturdy tree. Then waited for Anthony to help him dismount. Though the other parts of his mind getting the best of him as he picked up on the chirps of the birds. Some singing songs of rejoice. The occasional flutter of the leaves within the tree’s due to a gust of wind. He would have to remember this place as a napping spot.

Perhaps maybe when he had a day off he could spend all day here, napping, reading, writing letters. It seemed like a suitable place to grant some peace, but be struck in the awe of the beauty that surrounds it. His eyes lingered from the grove of the forest to Anthony. He found the beauty of his surroundings suited him, but didn’t outmatch him. Five years ago he would’ve found such thoughts strange, but not uncommon. Now he was used to finding beauty in a man, then quickly reminding himself of his faith. In this position he looked away, reminding himself of his faith, his societal role, and what power Anthony held. This was strictly professional.

 

[Alleluia]

Strong man, Anthony couldn't help but notice as Svaan helped him off his horse. He could have told the other man he was able to dismount on his own, but for a reason he;d rather not swell on, he didn't. Now he knew that despite his thin appearance, muscles rippled under Svaan's clothes. "Decent spot for a picnic, wouldn't you say?" he said, once he was on the ground. "A good place to get away too." He thought with some amusment Svaan can use this place for any romantic tryst he wanted to peruse and decided to say that, to encourage the less formal tone they started on. " If you ever needed privacy with one of the maids. I promise your secret would be safe with me."

He stepped back, taking Marquis' reins and looping them on one of the branches, a few steps from Hopper. He patted the horse's neck again, as it lowered its head and began grazing. "Good job, Marquis" he said. "Rest up, we'll give the other two another run soon, won't we?". He moved away from the animal then, and plopped himself down on the grass, pulling one leg to himself and stretching the other. It felt good to be out in the open air and without eyes on him. As much as he loved London for the freedom it allowed him, its air left a lot to be decided. Here he could fill his long with clean, crisp air. "Bring that satchel, won't you, Svaan?" he called out. "I'll wager we'll find some sandwiches and something to drink as well." Knowing the staff, Anthony was sure they would have packed enough for two men, at least.

While he waited for Svaan, he laid down, not caring about any grass stains to his shirt. The sky peaked through the leaves of the tree, blue and tantalizing. He used to love looking up at the clouds, finding shapes and day dreaming. How long has it been since he last did that? Too long.