The following is a work of fiction:
My position as a junior member of Radcliffe Jones and Carpenter is exactly that. I had qualified as a solicitor and had worked in a small country practice until in just under a year the senior and only other member of the firm fell off his yacht and drowned. I decided that I would make the best of a bad thing and seek another position in London, where my prospects should be better. It was only after a series of unsuccessful interviews that I finally ended up where I am now. I get the lowly tasks such as conveyencing work for house buyers and vendors. That is to say I do such work for anything other than the really well off clients as Mr Radcliffe likes to take care of the folk who have real money as they can be the source of income through wills, trusts and business litigation. I get the clients who can barely afford our fees. That was why it came as a surprise to me when one morning I was called into the swish office of Mr Radcliffe and given a highly responsible task to carry out. Half expecting a reprimand or at worse the sack, I was delighted to learn that I was to travel to the home of Sir Mortimer Carleton of Carleton Manor with a series of documents for him to sign.
Sir Mortimer was one of our richest clients and normally no one but Mr Radcliffe himself would attend to Carleton affairs. Mr. Radcliffe did not explain why on this occasion it was to fall to my lot to be despatched with some haste, I might add to Carleton Manor. My instructions were to remain at the manor house until such time as Sir Mortimer had perused and signed all the documents I was to take there. I could be away for a week or just a day or so but I should take with me all such things as I would need if I was to be a house guest for a full seven days. When I was given the heavy document case, I could understand that judging by its weight that there were enough papers inside to take all of two weeks to read thoroughly but it was not my place to question, merely to obey.
Carleton manor was a pseudo-Gothic monstrosity built by the first Baronet on the proceeds of trade. This set him aside from the local aristocracy, all of which considered themselves above anyone in trade regardless of any title that had been conferred upon them by the Queen who had given her name to an era that spawned such upstarts along with their grandiose ideas of what a country gentleman’s house should look like. It was bad enough that the man had been able to purchase an old historic manor but to have demolished it and built a mock castle of such great proportion and ugliness was beyond the pale.
The present day baronet was, however, accepted into society. His father had become a Member of Parliament and Sir Mortimer had followed in his father’s footsteps having represented the constituency these past twenty years. Over the years the family fortune had increased and now encompassed shipping, a large share in a vast ironworks as well as retail and manufacturing. It was no small wonder that Mr Radcliffe valued Sir Mortimer as a client. I came from humble beginnings. My father was a coal merchant’s clerk and earned barely enough to keep the wolf from the door. He had made great sacrifices to send me, his only son, to a good school and then on to university. He had high hopes that one day I should become a wealthy lawyer but progress in that profession came as much from who you knew as much as what you knew. Although I say it myself, I am well qualified but lacking in the right connections to aspire to any real success in my calling. To tell you a little of myself; I am twenty five years of age, of average height and what might be described as a swimmer’s body, having participated in that sport when I was an undergraduate. I keep up with my swimming purely as a measure to keep in trim. I no longer indulge in competitive swimming. I have brown hair, greenish eyes and I am told a pleasant face with a winning smile when I choose to share it. I am unmarried, the reason for which may well become apparent as my story proceeds. That is not to say that I have not had one or two affairs, none of which came to anything either because my companions were tempted away from me by some other beau or I merely tired of the connection and walked away from it. Each affair was quite definitely a failure, some of greater magnitude than others. My lack of funds was often an underlying cause in these matters of the heart. However, I digress. My journey to Carleton Manor was uneventful. The train was far from crowded and I was able to get a taxi cab at the station to take me and my small amount of luggage to the manor house that lay some mile and a half away up a long drive through rolling parkland. A herd of red deer that roamed in the park hardly bade attention as I was driven up to the house.
The huge oaken front door was opened to me by a footman dressed in a smart uniform while another was given the task of collecting my bag although I clung to the document case as though my life depended upon it. I was fearful of the consequences should any of its precious contents be damaged or removed if I were to let it out of my sight. Once inside the entrance hall that bore a strong resemblance to a small church rather than anything I had ever seen as posing as part of a house I was met by an austere man in a black suit who introduced himself as Graham, butler to Sir Mortimer. I was soon to learn that Graham was his family name as the other staff referred to him as Mr Graham. It was if this man who was held in awe by the other staff had no given name, for who could contemplate that he had ever been a child let alone an infant with a mother.
Graham politely informed me that Sir Mortimer was not at home at present but that he had left instructions that I was to be given a room on the second floor overlooking the lake at the rear of the house and that once I was installed therein I was to be shown into the library. James, the footman who had taken my bag led the way up the grand sweeping stone staircase along an arched hallway to a second flight of stairs, less grand than the first that led up to the floor upon which my room was located. The room came as a huge surprise to me as it was large enough to contain virtually all the house in which I was raised. The high ceiling was panelled and decorated with a variety of pastoral scenes while the walls were covered in what seemed to be expensive hand printed wallpaper. The bed was a large as any I could have imagined and a door led through to a well appointed private bathroom. This again was a luxury I had not encountered before. Looking at my surroundings with an appreciative eye, I was pleased that I could be enjoying such luxury for several days and nights.
I was embarrassed to find that James, the rather good looking young footman had unpacked my bag and placed my clothes in the large closet that was fitted with drawers for shirts and underwear as well as having hanging space for more suits and coats I ever hope of owning. My clothes were clean and respectable even if a little old and I wondered what a footman would make of them if he was used to looking after affluent guests and members of the family. I consoled myself with the thought that maybe his own clothes were not dissimilar once he had shed the smart uniform that came with his employment. This in turn led me to wonder what such a smart young man would look like as and when he shed that uniform. It was with some feeling of guilt that I tried hard to free my thoughts of such things as surely they were unhealthy. It was not for me to dwell upon fantasies about the male body any more than I should have lustful thoughts about women. My religious upbringing had taught me that thoughts of that kind were unclean and sinful although contrary to the instructions of my parish priest I never, ever confessed to having them. I was far too ashamed to have to utter descriptions of such things and in any event I made a point of missing confession except when my sins were those of omission rather than commission. It was far less embarrassing to admit to having missed mass or having forgotten to keep a promise to do something for someone. Again, I digress. I put aside all thoughts of the footman and found my way down to the library having received instructions from Graham as to its whereabouts.
I had been sitting in the library for some half an hour or so when Graham appeared to tell me that the master had sent a telegraph message to say that he was delayed in town and would not return until the next day. He sent his apologies to me and said that he trusted that I could find amusement among his book collection and weather permitting walking around the estate. Graham then told me that cook was preparing a meal for me and that it would be served in the library as there was little point in my using the dining room if I was to dine alone. I confirmed that the arrangement suited me and before long I was sat at a table under the large window overlooking the lake partaking of a meal fit for a king. The early evening glow over the lake was quite spectacular and I wondered why it was that a privileged few lived in such surrounding while so many others lived in squalor. Life could be so good for some yet so awful for others.
It was as I sat enjoying the excellent food and a glass of equally excellent wine that I saw a young man running along the lakeshore. At a guess, he was probably a year or so younger than myself. Wearing a white singlet and blue running shorts, his legs bare and running shoes on his feet he was at very least six feet tall of an athletic build and crowned by a god-like head of golden blond hair. All too soon he had passed from my immediate view as I observed his form vanish behind a clump of rhododendrons that stood between the corner of the wide lawn and the water’s edge. When James appeared with a tray of coffee and set about removing the remnants of my repast I asked him who it was I had seen running past the house.
‘That would be Henry, sir. Henry is the son of Mr Yates the Estate Manager. They live in the cottage on the other side of the stables. Henry runs around the lake most evenings and again in the morning on those days when he is home from his teaching post at Fotherham.’
‘You mean Fotherham, the public school?’
‘Yes sir, one of the most expensive places to send a boy for his education I believe. Not for the likes of me I’m afraid.’ James was well spoken and I could only suppose that he had received a reasonable education. I was to learn later that he had gone to a school run by a charity that prepared boys for positions in service to the gentry. His four sisters had been to a similar institution that prepared girls for a life of drudgery as laundry maids if they did not possess the acumen to train for more genteel posts such as ladies’ maids or cook/housekeepers for middleclass families. I blessed the day that my father, although only a coal merchant’s clerk, had earned enough to spare me the horror of having to take up a life of servitude even though as a member of eh legal profession I was still at the beck and call of those who did engage the services of servants in their grand houses.
Once darkness fell and I could no longer look out over the lake, I selected a book from the many hundreds Sir Mortimer’s library contained and went up to my appointed room. The bed had been turned down and my pyjamas laid out ready for me. T put me in mind of my early childhood when my mother would bathe me and put me to bed, it was then I realized that she, poor thing had been the nearest thing to a servant I had ever had. It is sad to think that she had died in childbirth when I was only nine years old. My brother died within hours making her loss doubly painful. My father struggled to cope with his work and my upbringing aided from time to time by his older sister who would live in with us until she decided it was time for her to go on one of her jaunts to the Continent. For her life in France or Italy was so superior to anything in England, the food the climate, the men. The latter were so handsome, so polite or at least that was until her funds ran out and she had to scuttle back to our humble home until she had received a further payment from her annuity set up by my late uncle. She would then depart again upon her next European escapade.
I read my book for some time before falling asleep to be briefly awakened as it fell from my hands, off the bed and onto the floor with a crash. I turned off the light and soon fell asleep once more to dream that I was chasing James along the lakeside. He was running away with my bag in which he had placed all my clothes once more. Why is it in dreams that you so often find you are stark naked and when you try to run you can make no headway. That was the silly nightmare I endured. In my dream the youthful blond haired Henry came out from the rhododendrons and grabbed my bag from James and he emptied the contents into the lake. It was then that I saw James was actually wearing my clothes and was pointing at me and laughing at my nakedness. I awoke from my dream and for a moment to two was confused by my strange surroundings. Then I remembered where I was and why I was here. It was light and a shaft of sunlight fell across eh bed from a chink in the curtains. I got up and opened then fully so that I could admire the morning view. Who should be running alongside the lake just as he had done the evening before but that gorgeous Henry? I stood and watched his progress and was sure that he looked up in my direction. He did not, however, acknowledge me and once again as he moved from right to left across my line of vision, he vanished behind that clump of dense foliage. I consulted the clock on the bedside table it was only 5.30, surely too soon for breakfast and so I decided I would go for a short stroll before taking a bath and shaving in preparation for whatever the day had in store for me. I went down to the library and out through the garden door onto the lawn. Crossing the vast expanse of closely shorn grass I reached the lakeside. From there I could see beyond those rhododendrons and saw a small round building, a folly in the form of a temple and on the steps sat the figure of Henry. He saw me and stood up to wave. I walked over to meet him.
By the time I reached the small temple building he had sat down again upon the steps. As I approached him I could not help but notice the early morning sunlight glinting on the fine golden hairs that grew in profusion on his legs and arms, it was as though he was anointed by some ethereal golden light giving him a supernatural appearance s though he were an angel or other heavenly being come down to earth.
‘Hello, you must be the legal eagle that is currently ensconced in the manor house,’ he said, his voice light with a hint of laughter in it. My first thought was that he was mocking me but then he stood and reached out a hand to shake mine. ‘I’m Henry Rudge,’ he said. ‘My father is the estate manager I’m staying with him just now.’
‘How do you do,’ I replied rather formally feeling in awe of this handsome figure. ‘Yes, I am Luke Paterson, the solicitor sent to wait upon Sir Mortimer.’
‘Wait could be the operative word. They have told you why he is not here?’ Henry asked.
‘No. Just that he was away and that he had left certain instruction with his staff as to my accommodation pending his return,’ I replied, curious to know what Henry Rudge might know about the Baronet’s absence.
‘You know old Morty has the ear of the king?’ I shook my head at this. ‘He has and was summoned to Sandringham. I understand that His Imperial Majesty, our true and rightful Monarch is in a bit of bother and Sir Mortimer is the one who gets the job of extricating Edward from his – erm – what shall I call them – little affairs of the royal bedchamber.’ It was fairly general knowledge that our king was something of a roué and it was understandable that should a lady of his choice have to be ‘paid off’ it was hardly a thing he could do himself. A trusted friend and confident would be called upon and Sir Mortimer would appear to be in that privileged position. I should add that these facts were only to be made known to me at some later date, meanwhile I was naive and thought that maybe Henry was merely ‘pulling my leg’ as the popular saying goes. However, I was prepared to accept that Sir Mortimer was in fact attending upon his Majesty as was at a loss to know what to say to this golden young man who had a strange attraction. I had an overwhelming urge to touch him. I am not a tactile kind of person and yet this desire was burning me up.
‘Do you swim,’ Henry said breaking the silence that had fallen between us.
‘Yes. Yes I do,’ I replied unsure where his line of questioning was leading.
‘I swim in the lake, usually after my evening run. Maybe you would care to join me?’
‘I rather think that I would,’ I responded, pleased to think that I would have a further opportunity to make this Adonis’ better acquaintance and how better but to join him swimming in the lake, even though the water did look as though it could prove to be on the chilly side, particularly late in the day despite the fact that it was summer. In typical English fashion the weather had not been too warm and the water may not have held too much of the warmth it had acquired when in weeks past the weather had been more clement.
‘Meet me by the stable block at say, six thirty. Now I must finish my run and get home in time for breakfast or my father will be complaining of my tardiness,’ Henry said as he clambered down the steps and ran off as though the hounds of hell were on his tail.
‘Late again, you know how I hate to be kept waiting for my breakfast. It puts me all at odds for the rest of the day!’ John Rudge complained as his son arrived back from his morning run.
‘Sorry, Pa. I met the solicitor who has come down to see the Gov’nor. We got chatting,’ Henry replied as he grabbed a towel and mopped the perspiration from his brow and then his blond-haired armpits.
‘You leave that young man alone, I don’t want any trouble with Sir Mortimer. He’s here on private business not for your entertainment.’
‘Now then Pa, don’t get all up tight. Just because I am what some fold call ‘queer’ it does not mean that I am going to jump upon every young man that comes my way in order to violate him.’ Henry’s father had accepted the fact that his son was homosexual. It mattered not to him but he was concerned that his son should not expose himself to the law and suffer the consequences. Prison and hard labour was the fate of men who were caught by the police who seemed to have a special delight in arresting ‘poofters and queers or Mary Anns’ as such men were more commonly known. John Rudge had warned his son, quoting the infamous case of the late Oscar Wilde. ‘You don’t’ want to go down that road,’ he warned his handsome son. ‘What folk don’t know, don’t cause no harm.’
John Rudge had been proud of the fact that Sir Mortimer had paid for his son to attend a good public school as a boarder. He was less than happy when he learned that such schools had a tendency to ‘turn’ some lads to buggery and worse but he bowed to the inevitable and when Henry qualified as a teacher and went on to gain a post at such a school he saw that Henry was happy and in his book that was all that mattered. The boy’s mother had gone off with a sailor when he was only seven and Rudge reckoned that that event had in some way affected his son.
‘I’m meeting him this evening. We are going swimming together. He seems quite a sporty type,’ Henry explained.
‘Like I said, you keep your hands off him my boy. He’s a lawyer and he may well be one to turn you in to the Peelers if you so much as look at him in a certain way. Mark my words, he could spell trouble.’
‘You worry too much. Anyway, I think he may prove otherwise. He was looking at me in a very approving way both last evening as I ran past the manor and again this morning when I saw him down by the folly. Don’t be concerned for me, I shall not do anything to court trouble of any kind.’ That being said, Henry went off to dress ready for breakfast, anxious not to keep his father waiting any longer than was necessary.
After his breakfast, John Rudge made his way over to the estate office to begin his day. There was always something to be done when running as many acres as Carleton Manor held in its thrall. For Henry it was just another day with little to do. The week was his to do what he fancied. Next week he was due back at the school to take his turn looking after boys who were unable for some reason to go home for the holidays. Often these were those whose parents lived abroad as the father was a diplomat or worked for some great trading company in some distant land. It meant organising rambles and camping trips and other entertainments to keep the little brats out of mischief. Henry enjoyed that aspect of his calling but this week he was going to catch up on his reading and the relaxed atmosphere surrounding Carleton Manor suited his purpose perfectly.
He was reading again Wilde’s ‘Dorian Grey’. He felt some affinity with the hero of the story as he too was notorious for his good looks. Henry wondered what his portrait in the attic would be like as he mused over some of his assignations, a number too erotic to be described in any detail. He also pondered over the thought of that young lawyer up at the big house. Could it be possible that he too was of the same persuasion? Pushing these thoughts away, he set to reading his book.
I wandered back into the house after my encounter with the handsome Henry and returned to my room. As I reached the door, James the footman came from my room.
‘I’ve run your bath for you, sir and laid out you day clothes. Breakfast is ready when you are and is to be found in the dining room.’
‘Thank you James,’ I replied, amused to think that I had someone to do such trivial things for me, things that I had been accustomed to doing every day for myself. I was beginning to think that I should enjoy a life of being waited upon hand and foot. I reminded myself that that required wealth, and wealth was not what I possessed. ‘Make the most of it while you can,’ I told myself as I stripped off and stepped into the bath that James had made available for me.
Bathed and dressed, I wandered down to the dining room where I found the table laid for just me and a selection of food in silver salvers on the huge sideboard. I helped myself to a selection and sat down to enjoy my second meal in these splendid surroundings. As I was eating my eggs and bacon, Graham the butler appeared.
‘Good morning, sir.’ He said in a rather patronising tone. ‘I trust everything is too your satisfaction?’
‘Yes thank you. Everything is splendid,’ I replied.
‘Word is that Sir Mortimer will not be back today, sir. May I suggest that you may like to explore the surrounding countryside. It is quite beautiful at this time of year. A bicycle can be made available to you, unless you ride. In that case a horse can be made ready for you.’
‘I do ride a little,’ I replied and Graham said that he would arrange for a horse to be saddled up and that I should go over to the stables at my convenience. About forty-five minutes later I walked to the stables and was greeted by a stable lad who led a horse out into the yard.
‘Here you are, sir,’ he said as he handed me the bridle. ‘You’ll find this gelding is a gentle good tempered creature. His name is Jack treat him kindly and you will have a great time with him.’
I had no difficulty mounting up and with some recommendations as to the route I should follow we trotted out from the yard and down the drive. A well defined track led off into the open country and as I had been promised I had a good morning. I stopped off at the village inn for a glass of ale before returning to the manor stables. A light lunch was provided for me on the terrace overlooking the lake and I sat contemplating the meeting I was to have with Henry that evening. Maybe it was due to the ale I had consumed and the good food that followed on top of the fresh air during my ride that I was drowsy, for after having eaten, I fell asleep in my chair. It was as James cleared the table that I awoke with a start.
‘Sorry if I disturbed you, sir,’ James said. He gave me a friendly smile, the first as he had hitherto maintained a serious expression appropriate to his position. I thanked him and said that he had no cause for concern. He smiled again and bowed his head slightly before walking away with the loaded tray. As I watched his departure I felt myself casting an appreciative eye over his well set liveried frame and his well-turned white stockinged calves below the black knee britches that he wore. The tails of his long royal blue, gold thread bordered coat hid his retreating rear from view but I had every impression that he filled those britches to perfection. Uniform of any kind can make a man look quite handsome, especially when that uniform is has a well tailored fit. I allowed myself to fantasize slightly over the footman before shaking my head to drive away any lustful thoughts I may have held for the young serving man.
Bowing to my lethargic feelings I wandered into the library and sat reading throughout the afternoon, every so often looking up at the ancient grandfather clock that stood sombrely ticking the hours away in the corner of the room. I was wishing the time to speed in anticipation of my meeting with Henry. At last the appointed hour arrived and armed with a towel from my private bathroom I made my way over to the stable block. Of course, I had no bathing drawers, not having packed any but I considered that it would be acceptable for me to swim in my underwear, the lake being on private property and away from public gaze.
Henry was waiting for me as I walked around the corner of the stable yard. He was dressed in a cotton shirt and what appeared to be linen trousers. He too was carrying a towel over his shoulder but did not appear to have any bathing drawers, so I assumed he must be wearing them under his trousers.
‘Hello, had a good day?’ he said in greeting.
‘Yes, fine thank you. I went riding this morning and spent much of the afternoon reading when I could stay awake. This country air is very soporific,’ I replied. Henry linked his arm in mine as though we had been good friends for ever and led me off in a direction away from the house toward a stand of oak trees near the lake shore.
‘The bathing pace is just beyond the oaks,’ Henry explained, chatting to me as we walked along, pointing out various landmarks, some natural others man made to enhance the spectacular parkland. As I looked back the gothic grandeur of the manor house stood starkly against the cloudless blue of the sky as the sun began its decent toward the horizon.
‘Best part of the day in my view,’ Henry remarked. ‘Still warm and peaceful. All work on the estate has been completed and there is no longer any sound of machinery. The breeze has dropped and the lake is like a mill pond, calm and inviting.’ We passed through the group of oaks and there before us was an inlet that had a short diving board and a couple of benches at the water’s edge. A small shed that obviously served as a changing room was under the shelter of the trees.
‘We no need to use the hut, there will be nobody about,’ Henry said as he placed his towel on one of the benches. He sat down and began to unlace his shoes.
‘I do not have my bathing drawers with me,’ I said. ‘I presume it will be acceptable for me to swim in my underwear?’ Henry laughed at this and pulled his half unbuttoned shirt over his head. He tossed his tousled hair from his eyes before replying to me.
‘Bathing drawers be blowed! As I said there is no one about. I swim as nature intended. You can swim in your pants if you want but I find clothing of any kind quite uncomfortable in water and quite unnecessary when I swim here.’ As Henry said this he removed the rest of his clothes and stood naked before me. I had become accustomed to undressing front of boys and masters at school and so quickly followed Henry’s example. There was a slight chill in the air and I shivered briefly before the pair of us dived into the water. It was surprisingly warm and soon we were swimming side by side, matching stroke with stroke until we reached a diving raft anchored some fifty yard s form the shore. Henry clambered up the wooden ladder and flopped down on the cocoanut matting that covered the upper side of the wooden construction. I followed and lay beside him. We propped ourselves up on our elbows and surveyed the peaceful scene around us.
Droplets of water clung to the blond hairs on Henry’s legs and arms, diamond like in the fading sunlight. I saw also how his cock lay across the top of his left thigh like a thick snake, the bulk of its body and tail buried in the patch of golden hairs that covered his pubes and low hanging ball sac. I felt an involuntary stirring in my own groin and again experienced that overwhelming desire to touch him.
‘Race you to the further shore,’ Henry suddenly exclaimed. I came to my senses and taking the challenge dived into the water. We both struck out for the shore and gasping for breath dragged ourselves out onto the damp grass on the bank, neither one knowing who had made it first as our dash was so well matched. We lay panting, neither speaking quite at ease in one another’s company. I saw a small insect alight on Henry’s chest and without thinking reached over to flick it away. He grabbed my arm and pulled me toward him. Our eyes locked into a gaze and I could see a hunger in his eyes, a hunger that matched my own and my desire to touch him was fulfilled when he brushed my lips with his and then flicked them with his tongue. I knew that from that moment I was lost.
I tried to return that kiss, the kiss that had set my whole body aflame with such a strong desire that I felt I might explode. My sex was rampant, never had I ever had such an erection and I was not ashamed that he should see it, my only wish was that he would grasp it in his hands and bring me off, for what else could satisfy my lust apart from the unspeakable, the penetration that was the fulfilment of the love that dare not speak its name. Yet I was a virgin, I had experienced nothing of these things and knew not how to respond to Henry’s kisses except with another. Yet to my utter surprise, he leapt to his feet and promptly dived back into the water and without looking back he swam at top speed back to where we had left our clothes. I followed but he had a head start on me and by the time I pulled myself dripping and gasping for air up onto the bank I found that he was gone. His clothes, his towel gone – a trail of wet footprints over the flagstones that lined that section of the lakeside were the only indication that he had been there and they told me that he had run off in the direction of his home.
I took up my towel and dried myself, shivering now as I began to feel a chill in the air that was far more noticeable than that when we had undressed to go for our swim. I found it difficult to pull on my underwear and shirt over my goose pimpled damp body. My hair dripped water so I dried it best I could on my already wet towel and feeling that I must look as though I had been dragged through a hedge, I walked slowly back to the big house. My heart near to bursting, my mind in turmoil. ‘What,’ I asked myself, ‘what had I done to make him leave in such a way? Was it me or was it something in him that brought our time together to such an abrupt and unexpected end?’
To be continued.
Part One – In which I Receive an Assignment
My position as a junior member of Radcliffe Jones and Carpenter is exactly that. I had qualified as a solicitor and had worked in a small country practice until in just under a year the senior and only other member of the firm fell off his yacht and drowned. I decided that I would make the best of a bad thing and seek another position in London, where my prospects should be better. It was only after a series of unsuccessful interviews that I finally ended up where I am now. I get the lowly tasks such as conveyencing work for house buyers and vendors. That is to say I do such work for anything other than the really well off clients as Mr Radcliffe likes to take care of the folk who have real money as they can be the source of income through wills, trusts and business litigation. I get the clients who can barely afford our fees. That was why it came as a surprise to me when one morning I was called into the swish office of Mr Radcliffe and given a highly responsible task to carry out. Half expecting a reprimand or at worse the sack, I was delighted to learn that I was to travel to the home of Sir Mortimer Carleton of Carleton Manor with a series of documents for him to sign.
Sir Mortimer was one of our richest clients and normally no one but Mr Radcliffe himself would attend to Carleton affairs. Mr. Radcliffe did not explain why on this occasion it was to fall to my lot to be despatched with some haste, I might add to Carleton Manor. My instructions were to remain at the manor house until such time as Sir Mortimer had perused and signed all the documents I was to take there. I could be away for a week or just a day or so but I should take with me all such things as I would need if I was to be a house guest for a full seven days. When I was given the heavy document case, I could understand that judging by its weight that there were enough papers inside to take all of two weeks to read thoroughly but it was not my place to question, merely to obey.
Carleton manor was a pseudo-Gothic monstrosity built by the first Baronet on the proceeds of trade. This set him aside from the local aristocracy, all of which considered themselves above anyone in trade regardless of any title that had been conferred upon them by the Queen who had given her name to an era that spawned such upstarts along with their grandiose ideas of what a country gentleman’s house should look like. It was bad enough that the man had been able to purchase an old historic manor but to have demolished it and built a mock castle of such great proportion and ugliness was beyond the pale.
The present day baronet was, however, accepted into society. His father had become a Member of Parliament and Sir Mortimer had followed in his father’s footsteps having represented the constituency these past twenty years. Over the years the family fortune had increased and now encompassed shipping, a large share in a vast ironworks as well as retail and manufacturing. It was no small wonder that Mr Radcliffe valued Sir Mortimer as a client. I came from humble beginnings. My father was a coal merchant’s clerk and earned barely enough to keep the wolf from the door. He had made great sacrifices to send me, his only son, to a good school and then on to university. He had high hopes that one day I should become a wealthy lawyer but progress in that profession came as much from who you knew as much as what you knew. Although I say it myself, I am well qualified but lacking in the right connections to aspire to any real success in my calling. To tell you a little of myself; I am twenty five years of age, of average height and what might be described as a swimmer’s body, having participated in that sport when I was an undergraduate. I keep up with my swimming purely as a measure to keep in trim. I no longer indulge in competitive swimming. I have brown hair, greenish eyes and I am told a pleasant face with a winning smile when I choose to share it. I am unmarried, the reason for which may well become apparent as my story proceeds. That is not to say that I have not had one or two affairs, none of which came to anything either because my companions were tempted away from me by some other beau or I merely tired of the connection and walked away from it. Each affair was quite definitely a failure, some of greater magnitude than others. My lack of funds was often an underlying cause in these matters of the heart. However, I digress. My journey to Carleton Manor was uneventful. The train was far from crowded and I was able to get a taxi cab at the station to take me and my small amount of luggage to the manor house that lay some mile and a half away up a long drive through rolling parkland. A herd of red deer that roamed in the park hardly bade attention as I was driven up to the house.
The huge oaken front door was opened to me by a footman dressed in a smart uniform while another was given the task of collecting my bag although I clung to the document case as though my life depended upon it. I was fearful of the consequences should any of its precious contents be damaged or removed if I were to let it out of my sight. Once inside the entrance hall that bore a strong resemblance to a small church rather than anything I had ever seen as posing as part of a house I was met by an austere man in a black suit who introduced himself as Graham, butler to Sir Mortimer. I was soon to learn that Graham was his family name as the other staff referred to him as Mr Graham. It was if this man who was held in awe by the other staff had no given name, for who could contemplate that he had ever been a child let alone an infant with a mother.
Graham politely informed me that Sir Mortimer was not at home at present but that he had left instructions that I was to be given a room on the second floor overlooking the lake at the rear of the house and that once I was installed therein I was to be shown into the library. James, the footman who had taken my bag led the way up the grand sweeping stone staircase along an arched hallway to a second flight of stairs, less grand than the first that led up to the floor upon which my room was located. The room came as a huge surprise to me as it was large enough to contain virtually all the house in which I was raised. The high ceiling was panelled and decorated with a variety of pastoral scenes while the walls were covered in what seemed to be expensive hand printed wallpaper. The bed was a large as any I could have imagined and a door led through to a well appointed private bathroom. This again was a luxury I had not encountered before. Looking at my surroundings with an appreciative eye, I was pleased that I could be enjoying such luxury for several days and nights.
I was embarrassed to find that James, the rather good looking young footman had unpacked my bag and placed my clothes in the large closet that was fitted with drawers for shirts and underwear as well as having hanging space for more suits and coats I ever hope of owning. My clothes were clean and respectable even if a little old and I wondered what a footman would make of them if he was used to looking after affluent guests and members of the family. I consoled myself with the thought that maybe his own clothes were not dissimilar once he had shed the smart uniform that came with his employment. This in turn led me to wonder what such a smart young man would look like as and when he shed that uniform. It was with some feeling of guilt that I tried hard to free my thoughts of such things as surely they were unhealthy. It was not for me to dwell upon fantasies about the male body any more than I should have lustful thoughts about women. My religious upbringing had taught me that thoughts of that kind were unclean and sinful although contrary to the instructions of my parish priest I never, ever confessed to having them. I was far too ashamed to have to utter descriptions of such things and in any event I made a point of missing confession except when my sins were those of omission rather than commission. It was far less embarrassing to admit to having missed mass or having forgotten to keep a promise to do something for someone. Again, I digress. I put aside all thoughts of the footman and found my way down to the library having received instructions from Graham as to its whereabouts.
I had been sitting in the library for some half an hour or so when Graham appeared to tell me that the master had sent a telegraph message to say that he was delayed in town and would not return until the next day. He sent his apologies to me and said that he trusted that I could find amusement among his book collection and weather permitting walking around the estate. Graham then told me that cook was preparing a meal for me and that it would be served in the library as there was little point in my using the dining room if I was to dine alone. I confirmed that the arrangement suited me and before long I was sat at a table under the large window overlooking the lake partaking of a meal fit for a king. The early evening glow over the lake was quite spectacular and I wondered why it was that a privileged few lived in such surrounding while so many others lived in squalor. Life could be so good for some yet so awful for others.
It was as I sat enjoying the excellent food and a glass of equally excellent wine that I saw a young man running along the lakeshore. At a guess, he was probably a year or so younger than myself. Wearing a white singlet and blue running shorts, his legs bare and running shoes on his feet he was at very least six feet tall of an athletic build and crowned by a god-like head of golden blond hair. All too soon he had passed from my immediate view as I observed his form vanish behind a clump of rhododendrons that stood between the corner of the wide lawn and the water’s edge. When James appeared with a tray of coffee and set about removing the remnants of my repast I asked him who it was I had seen running past the house.
‘That would be Henry, sir. Henry is the son of Mr Yates the Estate Manager. They live in the cottage on the other side of the stables. Henry runs around the lake most evenings and again in the morning on those days when he is home from his teaching post at Fotherham.’
‘You mean Fotherham, the public school?’
‘Yes sir, one of the most expensive places to send a boy for his education I believe. Not for the likes of me I’m afraid.’ James was well spoken and I could only suppose that he had received a reasonable education. I was to learn later that he had gone to a school run by a charity that prepared boys for positions in service to the gentry. His four sisters had been to a similar institution that prepared girls for a life of drudgery as laundry maids if they did not possess the acumen to train for more genteel posts such as ladies’ maids or cook/housekeepers for middleclass families. I blessed the day that my father, although only a coal merchant’s clerk, had earned enough to spare me the horror of having to take up a life of servitude even though as a member of eh legal profession I was still at the beck and call of those who did engage the services of servants in their grand houses.
Once darkness fell and I could no longer look out over the lake, I selected a book from the many hundreds Sir Mortimer’s library contained and went up to my appointed room. The bed had been turned down and my pyjamas laid out ready for me. T put me in mind of my early childhood when my mother would bathe me and put me to bed, it was then I realized that she, poor thing had been the nearest thing to a servant I had ever had. It is sad to think that she had died in childbirth when I was only nine years old. My brother died within hours making her loss doubly painful. My father struggled to cope with his work and my upbringing aided from time to time by his older sister who would live in with us until she decided it was time for her to go on one of her jaunts to the Continent. For her life in France or Italy was so superior to anything in England, the food the climate, the men. The latter were so handsome, so polite or at least that was until her funds ran out and she had to scuttle back to our humble home until she had received a further payment from her annuity set up by my late uncle. She would then depart again upon her next European escapade.
I read my book for some time before falling asleep to be briefly awakened as it fell from my hands, off the bed and onto the floor with a crash. I turned off the light and soon fell asleep once more to dream that I was chasing James along the lakeside. He was running away with my bag in which he had placed all my clothes once more. Why is it in dreams that you so often find you are stark naked and when you try to run you can make no headway. That was the silly nightmare I endured. In my dream the youthful blond haired Henry came out from the rhododendrons and grabbed my bag from James and he emptied the contents into the lake. It was then that I saw James was actually wearing my clothes and was pointing at me and laughing at my nakedness. I awoke from my dream and for a moment to two was confused by my strange surroundings. Then I remembered where I was and why I was here. It was light and a shaft of sunlight fell across eh bed from a chink in the curtains. I got up and opened then fully so that I could admire the morning view. Who should be running alongside the lake just as he had done the evening before but that gorgeous Henry? I stood and watched his progress and was sure that he looked up in my direction. He did not, however, acknowledge me and once again as he moved from right to left across my line of vision, he vanished behind that clump of dense foliage. I consulted the clock on the bedside table it was only 5.30, surely too soon for breakfast and so I decided I would go for a short stroll before taking a bath and shaving in preparation for whatever the day had in store for me. I went down to the library and out through the garden door onto the lawn. Crossing the vast expanse of closely shorn grass I reached the lakeside. From there I could see beyond those rhododendrons and saw a small round building, a folly in the form of a temple and on the steps sat the figure of Henry. He saw me and stood up to wave. I walked over to meet him.
By the time I reached the small temple building he had sat down again upon the steps. As I approached him I could not help but notice the early morning sunlight glinting on the fine golden hairs that grew in profusion on his legs and arms, it was as though he was anointed by some ethereal golden light giving him a supernatural appearance s though he were an angel or other heavenly being come down to earth.
‘Hello, you must be the legal eagle that is currently ensconced in the manor house,’ he said, his voice light with a hint of laughter in it. My first thought was that he was mocking me but then he stood and reached out a hand to shake mine. ‘I’m Henry Rudge,’ he said. ‘My father is the estate manager I’m staying with him just now.’
‘How do you do,’ I replied rather formally feeling in awe of this handsome figure. ‘Yes, I am Luke Paterson, the solicitor sent to wait upon Sir Mortimer.’
‘Wait could be the operative word. They have told you why he is not here?’ Henry asked.
‘No. Just that he was away and that he had left certain instruction with his staff as to my accommodation pending his return,’ I replied, curious to know what Henry Rudge might know about the Baronet’s absence.
‘You know old Morty has the ear of the king?’ I shook my head at this. ‘He has and was summoned to Sandringham. I understand that His Imperial Majesty, our true and rightful Monarch is in a bit of bother and Sir Mortimer is the one who gets the job of extricating Edward from his – erm – what shall I call them – little affairs of the royal bedchamber.’ It was fairly general knowledge that our king was something of a roué and it was understandable that should a lady of his choice have to be ‘paid off’ it was hardly a thing he could do himself. A trusted friend and confident would be called upon and Sir Mortimer would appear to be in that privileged position. I should add that these facts were only to be made known to me at some later date, meanwhile I was naive and thought that maybe Henry was merely ‘pulling my leg’ as the popular saying goes. However, I was prepared to accept that Sir Mortimer was in fact attending upon his Majesty as was at a loss to know what to say to this golden young man who had a strange attraction. I had an overwhelming urge to touch him. I am not a tactile kind of person and yet this desire was burning me up.
‘Do you swim,’ Henry said breaking the silence that had fallen between us.
‘Yes. Yes I do,’ I replied unsure where his line of questioning was leading.
‘I swim in the lake, usually after my evening run. Maybe you would care to join me?’
‘I rather think that I would,’ I responded, pleased to think that I would have a further opportunity to make this Adonis’ better acquaintance and how better but to join him swimming in the lake, even though the water did look as though it could prove to be on the chilly side, particularly late in the day despite the fact that it was summer. In typical English fashion the weather had not been too warm and the water may not have held too much of the warmth it had acquired when in weeks past the weather had been more clement.
‘Meet me by the stable block at say, six thirty. Now I must finish my run and get home in time for breakfast or my father will be complaining of my tardiness,’ Henry said as he clambered down the steps and ran off as though the hounds of hell were on his tail.
Part Two – Henry
‘Late again, you know how I hate to be kept waiting for my breakfast. It puts me all at odds for the rest of the day!’ John Rudge complained as his son arrived back from his morning run.
‘Sorry, Pa. I met the solicitor who has come down to see the Gov’nor. We got chatting,’ Henry replied as he grabbed a towel and mopped the perspiration from his brow and then his blond-haired armpits.
‘You leave that young man alone, I don’t want any trouble with Sir Mortimer. He’s here on private business not for your entertainment.’
‘Now then Pa, don’t get all up tight. Just because I am what some fold call ‘queer’ it does not mean that I am going to jump upon every young man that comes my way in order to violate him.’ Henry’s father had accepted the fact that his son was homosexual. It mattered not to him but he was concerned that his son should not expose himself to the law and suffer the consequences. Prison and hard labour was the fate of men who were caught by the police who seemed to have a special delight in arresting ‘poofters and queers or Mary Anns’ as such men were more commonly known. John Rudge had warned his son, quoting the infamous case of the late Oscar Wilde. ‘You don’t’ want to go down that road,’ he warned his handsome son. ‘What folk don’t know, don’t cause no harm.’
John Rudge had been proud of the fact that Sir Mortimer had paid for his son to attend a good public school as a boarder. He was less than happy when he learned that such schools had a tendency to ‘turn’ some lads to buggery and worse but he bowed to the inevitable and when Henry qualified as a teacher and went on to gain a post at such a school he saw that Henry was happy and in his book that was all that mattered. The boy’s mother had gone off with a sailor when he was only seven and Rudge reckoned that that event had in some way affected his son.
‘I’m meeting him this evening. We are going swimming together. He seems quite a sporty type,’ Henry explained.
‘Like I said, you keep your hands off him my boy. He’s a lawyer and he may well be one to turn you in to the Peelers if you so much as look at him in a certain way. Mark my words, he could spell trouble.’
‘You worry too much. Anyway, I think he may prove otherwise. He was looking at me in a very approving way both last evening as I ran past the manor and again this morning when I saw him down by the folly. Don’t be concerned for me, I shall not do anything to court trouble of any kind.’ That being said, Henry went off to dress ready for breakfast, anxious not to keep his father waiting any longer than was necessary.
After his breakfast, John Rudge made his way over to the estate office to begin his day. There was always something to be done when running as many acres as Carleton Manor held in its thrall. For Henry it was just another day with little to do. The week was his to do what he fancied. Next week he was due back at the school to take his turn looking after boys who were unable for some reason to go home for the holidays. Often these were those whose parents lived abroad as the father was a diplomat or worked for some great trading company in some distant land. It meant organising rambles and camping trips and other entertainments to keep the little brats out of mischief. Henry enjoyed that aspect of his calling but this week he was going to catch up on his reading and the relaxed atmosphere surrounding Carleton Manor suited his purpose perfectly.
He was reading again Wilde’s ‘Dorian Grey’. He felt some affinity with the hero of the story as he too was notorious for his good looks. Henry wondered what his portrait in the attic would be like as he mused over some of his assignations, a number too erotic to be described in any detail. He also pondered over the thought of that young lawyer up at the big house. Could it be possible that he too was of the same persuasion? Pushing these thoughts away, he set to reading his book.
**********
I wandered back into the house after my encounter with the handsome Henry and returned to my room. As I reached the door, James the footman came from my room.
‘I’ve run your bath for you, sir and laid out you day clothes. Breakfast is ready when you are and is to be found in the dining room.’
‘Thank you James,’ I replied, amused to think that I had someone to do such trivial things for me, things that I had been accustomed to doing every day for myself. I was beginning to think that I should enjoy a life of being waited upon hand and foot. I reminded myself that that required wealth, and wealth was not what I possessed. ‘Make the most of it while you can,’ I told myself as I stripped off and stepped into the bath that James had made available for me.
Bathed and dressed, I wandered down to the dining room where I found the table laid for just me and a selection of food in silver salvers on the huge sideboard. I helped myself to a selection and sat down to enjoy my second meal in these splendid surroundings. As I was eating my eggs and bacon, Graham the butler appeared.
‘Good morning, sir.’ He said in a rather patronising tone. ‘I trust everything is too your satisfaction?’
‘Yes thank you. Everything is splendid,’ I replied.
‘Word is that Sir Mortimer will not be back today, sir. May I suggest that you may like to explore the surrounding countryside. It is quite beautiful at this time of year. A bicycle can be made available to you, unless you ride. In that case a horse can be made ready for you.’
‘I do ride a little,’ I replied and Graham said that he would arrange for a horse to be saddled up and that I should go over to the stables at my convenience. About forty-five minutes later I walked to the stables and was greeted by a stable lad who led a horse out into the yard.
‘Here you are, sir,’ he said as he handed me the bridle. ‘You’ll find this gelding is a gentle good tempered creature. His name is Jack treat him kindly and you will have a great time with him.’
I had no difficulty mounting up and with some recommendations as to the route I should follow we trotted out from the yard and down the drive. A well defined track led off into the open country and as I had been promised I had a good morning. I stopped off at the village inn for a glass of ale before returning to the manor stables. A light lunch was provided for me on the terrace overlooking the lake and I sat contemplating the meeting I was to have with Henry that evening. Maybe it was due to the ale I had consumed and the good food that followed on top of the fresh air during my ride that I was drowsy, for after having eaten, I fell asleep in my chair. It was as James cleared the table that I awoke with a start.
‘Sorry if I disturbed you, sir,’ James said. He gave me a friendly smile, the first as he had hitherto maintained a serious expression appropriate to his position. I thanked him and said that he had no cause for concern. He smiled again and bowed his head slightly before walking away with the loaded tray. As I watched his departure I felt myself casting an appreciative eye over his well set liveried frame and his well-turned white stockinged calves below the black knee britches that he wore. The tails of his long royal blue, gold thread bordered coat hid his retreating rear from view but I had every impression that he filled those britches to perfection. Uniform of any kind can make a man look quite handsome, especially when that uniform is has a well tailored fit. I allowed myself to fantasize slightly over the footman before shaking my head to drive away any lustful thoughts I may have held for the young serving man.
Bowing to my lethargic feelings I wandered into the library and sat reading throughout the afternoon, every so often looking up at the ancient grandfather clock that stood sombrely ticking the hours away in the corner of the room. I was wishing the time to speed in anticipation of my meeting with Henry. At last the appointed hour arrived and armed with a towel from my private bathroom I made my way over to the stable block. Of course, I had no bathing drawers, not having packed any but I considered that it would be acceptable for me to swim in my underwear, the lake being on private property and away from public gaze.
Henry was waiting for me as I walked around the corner of the stable yard. He was dressed in a cotton shirt and what appeared to be linen trousers. He too was carrying a towel over his shoulder but did not appear to have any bathing drawers, so I assumed he must be wearing them under his trousers.
‘Hello, had a good day?’ he said in greeting.
‘Yes, fine thank you. I went riding this morning and spent much of the afternoon reading when I could stay awake. This country air is very soporific,’ I replied. Henry linked his arm in mine as though we had been good friends for ever and led me off in a direction away from the house toward a stand of oak trees near the lake shore.
‘The bathing pace is just beyond the oaks,’ Henry explained, chatting to me as we walked along, pointing out various landmarks, some natural others man made to enhance the spectacular parkland. As I looked back the gothic grandeur of the manor house stood starkly against the cloudless blue of the sky as the sun began its decent toward the horizon.
‘Best part of the day in my view,’ Henry remarked. ‘Still warm and peaceful. All work on the estate has been completed and there is no longer any sound of machinery. The breeze has dropped and the lake is like a mill pond, calm and inviting.’ We passed through the group of oaks and there before us was an inlet that had a short diving board and a couple of benches at the water’s edge. A small shed that obviously served as a changing room was under the shelter of the trees.
‘We no need to use the hut, there will be nobody about,’ Henry said as he placed his towel on one of the benches. He sat down and began to unlace his shoes.
‘I do not have my bathing drawers with me,’ I said. ‘I presume it will be acceptable for me to swim in my underwear?’ Henry laughed at this and pulled his half unbuttoned shirt over his head. He tossed his tousled hair from his eyes before replying to me.
‘Bathing drawers be blowed! As I said there is no one about. I swim as nature intended. You can swim in your pants if you want but I find clothing of any kind quite uncomfortable in water and quite unnecessary when I swim here.’ As Henry said this he removed the rest of his clothes and stood naked before me. I had become accustomed to undressing front of boys and masters at school and so quickly followed Henry’s example. There was a slight chill in the air and I shivered briefly before the pair of us dived into the water. It was surprisingly warm and soon we were swimming side by side, matching stroke with stroke until we reached a diving raft anchored some fifty yard s form the shore. Henry clambered up the wooden ladder and flopped down on the cocoanut matting that covered the upper side of the wooden construction. I followed and lay beside him. We propped ourselves up on our elbows and surveyed the peaceful scene around us.
Droplets of water clung to the blond hairs on Henry’s legs and arms, diamond like in the fading sunlight. I saw also how his cock lay across the top of his left thigh like a thick snake, the bulk of its body and tail buried in the patch of golden hairs that covered his pubes and low hanging ball sac. I felt an involuntary stirring in my own groin and again experienced that overwhelming desire to touch him.
‘Race you to the further shore,’ Henry suddenly exclaimed. I came to my senses and taking the challenge dived into the water. We both struck out for the shore and gasping for breath dragged ourselves out onto the damp grass on the bank, neither one knowing who had made it first as our dash was so well matched. We lay panting, neither speaking quite at ease in one another’s company. I saw a small insect alight on Henry’s chest and without thinking reached over to flick it away. He grabbed my arm and pulled me toward him. Our eyes locked into a gaze and I could see a hunger in his eyes, a hunger that matched my own and my desire to touch him was fulfilled when he brushed my lips with his and then flicked them with his tongue. I knew that from that moment I was lost.
I tried to return that kiss, the kiss that had set my whole body aflame with such a strong desire that I felt I might explode. My sex was rampant, never had I ever had such an erection and I was not ashamed that he should see it, my only wish was that he would grasp it in his hands and bring me off, for what else could satisfy my lust apart from the unspeakable, the penetration that was the fulfilment of the love that dare not speak its name. Yet I was a virgin, I had experienced nothing of these things and knew not how to respond to Henry’s kisses except with another. Yet to my utter surprise, he leapt to his feet and promptly dived back into the water and without looking back he swam at top speed back to where we had left our clothes. I followed but he had a head start on me and by the time I pulled myself dripping and gasping for air up onto the bank I found that he was gone. His clothes, his towel gone – a trail of wet footprints over the flagstones that lined that section of the lakeside were the only indication that he had been there and they told me that he had run off in the direction of his home.
I took up my towel and dried myself, shivering now as I began to feel a chill in the air that was far more noticeable than that when we had undressed to go for our swim. I found it difficult to pull on my underwear and shirt over my goose pimpled damp body. My hair dripped water so I dried it best I could on my already wet towel and feeling that I must look as though I had been dragged through a hedge, I walked slowly back to the big house. My heart near to bursting, my mind in turmoil. ‘What,’ I asked myself, ‘what had I done to make him leave in such a way? Was it me or was it something in him that brought our time together to such an abrupt and unexpected end?’
To be continued.
He never did anything though ...
We are not sure what ... At least he had that but after more than 70 years, that's not very much. Such a waste!! ](/images/smilies/bang.gif "Brick wall ](*,)")