Page 10 of The Demons of Wychwood

THE DEMON WITHIN

Lord Penhelligan set up the bottles of wines and spirits in the dining room without direction, and I supposed he didn’t need any cos he’d attended Wychwood for nigh-on a year and knew what was what.

I carried the platters of pastries, fruits, bread, meats, and cheeses into the room and laid them out on the long dining table. When I was done, I took a crate of bottles and hefted it upstairs. Then I began my routine of marking the doors. I paused when I got to room six and heard footsteps on the stairs. Mr. 45, who I now knew to be General Edward Napier, had reserved this room for use with 27. I turned and saw Kit standing in the hall. He appeared perplexed, his eyes stormy, and fingers rubbing at the wrist he’d slit in his desperation to be rid of his attraction to men, and his bully, General Napier.

“Anything I can do for you, milord?” I asked as I chalked the numbers 45 and 27 on the door. I knew he was going to be fucked raw by that brute tonight, and I could see by his expression and the stiff way he held himself, whether he said it out loud or not, that he didn’t want it.

“Could you…possibly put us in another room? I don’t want a reminder of what happened in room six,” Kit admitted meekly. A stone’s weight dropped into my gut, for I remembered exactly what had happened in there—how Kit was used and coerced into rough couplings to rid him of his ‘demon’. I remembered how Napier had left him, looking wretched and sobbing with self-disgust. The thought of that man touching Kit again made my blood rise and imaginings of slitting the scoundrel's throat were the only thing that would satisfy me. I bit on my lower lip to stop myself from saying what I was thinking.

Why do you keep putting yourself through this?

There are other men, good men who would worship the ground you walk on, so why do you let Napier master you?

For the life of me, I didn’t understand the pull this Edward had over Kit. But I kept those thoughts to myself and just smiled, nodded, and said,

“No trouble at all, milord.”

Our gents were men of routines and habits, and they liked the same rooms. I didn’t want to risk a liaison getting interrupted cos I’d changed the rooms around. I let my eyes run over the purple inked scrawl on my employer’s letter again and saw that no one had reserved room ten. I wiped the numbers off the door of room six with the palm of my hand and marched up the hall to room ten and marked the numbers on that door instead.

I was surprised by the meek request because as my better, Kit Havelock could have made a list of haughty demands. There are those who get a rise from throwing their weight around and making sure that a servant knows who their master is, but Kit didn’t use his power and status around me. Even allowing me to call him Kit was unusual. Kit opened the door of room ten.

“Thank you, Felix. This will suit,” he said flatly as if he was choosing his weapon for a duel. My name on his lips caused another one of those darts of pleasure to twist my innards. Kit stepped into the bed chamber. Room ten was a little bigger than room six and it had French doors that opened onto a balcony overlooking the gardens at Wychwood. There was nothing much to see in the garden at this time of year, especially with a bad winter refusing to release its grip. I remained outside as Kit strode across the room, opened the French doors, and then stepped onto the balcony. A stiff chilly breeze rushed into the room. The winter sun was trying to burn its way through the clouds of fog. As a blackbird began its lonely lilting song, I could almost believe for a moment that we were in the deep countryside.

Kit closed the French doors and moved back into the room. I lit the fire that had been prepared. Kit sat heavily in a hearth chair and sighed. I left milord to his thoughts again and returned to room one where I set a bottle of Cognac, fat cigars, a lady’s nightgown, silk stockings, and strips of red ribbon as per the instructions. Room two required handcuffs, a paddle, and a length of chain – all of which I retrieved from the toy box, a quite innocuous wooden travelling chest that sat in the hallway. I busied myself until all, but one room was prepared. My blood chilled as I read that 45 had requested the set of leather restraints for wrists and ankles. I wondered if Kit knew about this request and got my answer when I knocked on the door of room ten and entered at his call of “Come in.” The colour drained from his face when he saw what I was holding. I recalled that 45 had requested the restraints before, around six months ago, so they were not a regular fixture for their bed play, I expect they were more of a punishment. I stopped dead at seeing the expression of dread on Kit’s face.

“Are you alright, milord? This was on the list of requirements. None of my business, but I take it you didn’t request it?”

“Um… no, I most certainly did not.” The low pained timbre of his voice meant I had to strain to hear the reply. I left the leather restraints on the blanket chest at the bottom of the bed. When I turned back to Kit, he was curled into himself in the hearthside chair, his head in his hands. We had four hours before the house opened and the part of me that wanted to protect Kit was growing bigger and stronger. I hated seeing him like this and I knew there was a reason he’d remained at the house with me all afternoon. I just had to find out what it was.

“Forgive me, milord, Kit. But downstairs you said we was friends, and if that’s the case, friends help each other when they’re in trouble.” I paused to weigh up whether I should proceed, cos the fact he was a Duke, and I was just a servant was never far from my mind. Kit didn’t move.

“If you got something troubling you, I’m a good listener. I won’t tell no one. I’ll do what I can to help you.” I stepped closer to his chair and each step felt like I was walking on shards of glass. He could have roared at me for my impertinence, lashed out and reminded me of my place, but instead in that same soft pained voice he said,

“No one can help me. I’m cursed forever.”

“No, you bloody ain’t!” I burst out, unable to keep my frustration inside any longer.

Kit looked up with large watery eyes. “I am,” he said despairingly. “Edward has been trying to help me for years, but he’s concluded that I’m a lost cause. I’ve wanted to sever our…arrangement too, but Edward won’t allow it. The…restraints are to remind me who’s in charge. I disobeyed him…before….I fought him. He’ll tell me that this is for my own good…that he’s doing God’s work, driving the demon from my body, but…he gets pleasure from my pain.” Kit paused for a breath. “I knew a long time ago that he enjoyed hurting me, but I was too scared of myself…I thought I must deserve it.”

I was taken aback by that revelation. Kit didn’t deserve to be hurt for Napier’s pleasure. Napier was a brute and a damn liar. That cove enjoyed buggery as much as any molly I’d ever met. To pretend he wasn’t queer and say he was doing God’s work was horse shit.

“I take it you don’t want any of this?” I said gesturing toward the wicked restraints on the blanket chest at the end of the bed.

“No.”

My head spun and rage burned beneath my skin. I had to be sure that Kit truly hated Napier and it wasn’t a twisted game they played with each other. “So, I was right. This ain’t no love match.”

“Most certainly not!” he said outraged.

“But I still don’t understand. What does he have on you that would bind you to him and allow him to treat you so badly?

“Damn your eyes!” Kit roared in frustration. “Can you not see? I’m an abomination and my attraction to men is…an ungodly disease.”

“That ain’t true,” I insisted.

“Edward discovered my…demon when I was sixteen. He told me I was sick, wrong…I had to let him drive it from me. He said I could not ever share myself with anyone else. It was his duty to protect the family, and if I didn’t submit, he’d ruin me and tell mother that I’m a sodomite—I was sure such a revelation would kill her.”

Cor, blimey! This Napier was a tricky bastard and no mistake. He had Kit terrified of his nature and family disgrace.

“But Napier comes to Wychwood, and men of society know it? Wouldn’t he be shamed and punished too?”

“In these circles he’s untouchable. Edward said he’s doing this as a kindness, as a duty.”

I turned that information over in my head. I could imagine a powerful man like Napier believed he was untouchable, but all men answer to their maker, and for some men, the fear of that final judgment was all that would frighten them into submission.

“How can this arrangement between you have been going on for six years? You’re twenty-four, yes? ”

“Please sit-down Felix,” Kit gestured to the hearth chair opposite. But before I sat, I strode to the credenza and poured a glass of brandy for him. He accepted the tumbler appreciatively and took a swallow. I sat warming myself by the fire and waited for him to talk.

“My connection with Edward goes back a long way,” Kit began, “My father, Charles Havelock, Duke of Penhelligan was killed fourteen years ago during the Sikh war of 1846. I was ten, and my sister Georgia was just a year old, and so my mother, Eleanor was left widowed with two young children. Edward Napier was my father’s best friend, and we were familiar with him visiting. Mother was fond of him. We all missed Papa, and so having Edward around was a comfort of sorts. Over many months it appears he worked his way into my mother’s affections—and the vacancy my father left. Napier married my mother a year after father died. He was kind to me when I was younger, and I saw him as a father figure, but things changed when I grew into manhood.”

“How did things change?”

“The way he looked at me, the way he touched me.” Kit paused. “Whenever we were alone, he would sit too close, run his hand down my back, grip my thigh. He told me how he felt sorry that I would not know what a good strong man my father was. That it was his duty to be an influence, to ensure I became a fine man for when I was required to take up the duties of my title. I liked the contact and told myself it was paternal and showed that he cared. But my demon nature…my attraction to other boys had already shown itself. I didn’t understand back then how wrong it was. It felt natural to me, I even had a special friend at school—” Kit looked up at me as if to ensure I understood what he meant.

“Oh, that kind of friend.”

“Yes. Singeon was a terribly sweet boy, and at school we were stuck together like peas in a pod. We japed around in private and even though I was more reserved about our friendship, Singeon’s love of classical Greek poetry and his dreamy nature meant that he couldn’t keep his feelings for me private. In the holidays we wrote to one another. His letters were always of a more …salacious nature, quoting lines of homoerotic Greek poetry. I returned from riding one morning and discovered that Edward had opened one of my letters.”

“How old were you?”

“Sixteen, I think…I was changing clothes after my ride. Edward asked my valet to leave us alone. I was half-clothed and confused as to why my stepfather was so angry. He waved Singeon’s letter in my face and told me he knew what I was. I was an invert, an abomination, a sinner and he would not have my sin ruin everything he had worked for. I was mortified. Edward told me to end my friendship with Singeon at once and do everything he commanded, otherwise he would tell mother of my true nature, and she would abandon me. I didn’t receive my inheritance until I turned twenty and so I was completely dependent on my mother and her husband. At first, I refused to drop Singeon, he was my best friend and a dear, sweet boy, but Edward hit me—slapped me across the face. I was so shocked that he’d dared lay a hand on me. In the years he had been with my family he’d never physically punished me like that. I recall that it excited him, but I couldn’t move. I was just frozen with shock.”

“What a bastard!” Anger bubbled under my skin, and I knew that if Edward bloody Napier walked into this room, I’d have dragged him down the hill to London Zoo and fed him to the bloomin’ lions without a care.

“Then as the years passed, he began to tighten his grip on me. Edward told me that he’d spoken to our priest, seeking advice on how to help me. The priest told him Satan and his demons use temptation and desire to lead us away from God. With my ungodly inverted desires, I’d become a tool of Satan. Edward said it was his solemn duty to try and find a way to relieve me of my abhorrence and guide me back onto God’s path. He wasn’t intimate with me until I was nineteen, but by then I’d endured years of his jibes, whispers, and threats and control. He had me so browbeaten and riddled with self-loathing that I would do anything I could to please him.” Kit paused to fortify himself with a sip of brandy.

“I was horrified when he said that the only way to rid me of my sin was to feed the demon until we could find a way to remove it. I would have done anything he asked of me back then. I prayed so hard and thought that if I was submissive Edward would be pacified and my secret would remain between us. But Edward developed a taste for having power over me and giving me pain. He assured that whatever he did was God’s will. I’ve been trapped in the arrangement ever since.”

“How did you end up here, at Wychwood?”

Kit tossed the brandy back before replying. “When I took my hereditary seat in the House of Lords, Edward said it was imperative that I did not disgrace the family by falling for London’s vices, visiting gaming hells, or molly houses. He told me he’d found a place where men went to rid themselves of the sickness. I thought it was a monastery or hospital he was talking about…I hoped I could be rid of this for good.” Kit paused and met my eyes. “You must think me terribly na?ve.”

Hearing Kit’s story made all of my protective urges come to the surface again. “No milord. I think you’ve been lied to, manipulated, and wronged for so long you’re afraid of your own shadow and it ain’t right.”

I knew what it was like to be caged by a bully who was supposed to behave like a father. I got away from my bully, and so would Kit, cos I knew there and then, call it fate or destiny, but our paths had crossed for a reason. I was meant to help him.

In an almost dreamy voice he said, “For a time I didn’t think Edward was a bad man, cruel and brutal, yes, but not evil. His rough use of me made me fear my very nature, and I never dared go near another who held the same tastes, which I guess was exactly what he wanted to achieve,” Kit said. “But I cannot go on like this,” he sighed.

The telling seemed to have given him some comfort and a little of the coiled-up fear had left him.

“Can I speak freely milord?”

“Nothing’s stopped you so far!”

“Well, the way I sees it, you’ve had this Napier pouring poison in your ear for your whole life, telling you that fancying men’s a sickness. The clergy spout all that ‘fire and brimstone’ nonsense about giving in to desire feeding the devil. But most of those musty old buggers wouldn’t know love if it bit them on the arse. But I know better. ”

“Is that right?” Kit drawled, “And what do you know ?” There was a mocking tone to that statement.

“I know that I’ve seen temples in India where there are carvings of men entwined making love with other men. I’ve seen my brothers in arms turn to one another for comfort and feel no shame. I know that I’ll love who I damn well like. If there’s a God, this is how he made me. Did God make a mistake and make me wrong for wanting to lay with men?” I asked. Havelock stared at me, shocked by my outburst.

“I ain’t wrong and I ain’t sick and I can’t see a loving God punishing me for the way he made me. The only ones who punish men like us are other men who are scared of things that are different.”

Kit’s eyes grew wide with outrage. “But…but…you can’t say that, it’s blasphemous!”

“And Napier…a mortal man…telling you that you have a demon inside you isn’t? Who made him the judge? Does the cove have a magic cock or something? Cos he seems to think violent buggery is a cure-all!” I exclaimed fiercely. Havelock gasped and his hand flew to cover his mouth.

Money and station didn’t matter here, cos evil can work its way into the hearts of rich and poor alike. I was furious that General Edward Napier had gotten away with hurting his fine man for six years.

“Napier is a bloody hypocrite and a sodomite pretending that he ain’t. If you’re a sinner, so is he. If you’re sick, so is he! You’re not sick Kit, you just love differently, and the only judge of that is God, not Edward Napier!” I was shouting now, and I couldn’t help it.

Kit appeared struck dumb by my passionate outrage, and I wondered if anyone had ever spoken to him so frankly or if I’d gone too far.

“Have you ever told anyone else about how you want to be loved?” I asked directly.

He shook his head. “Only Singeon, but that was a long, long time ago,”

I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees. “You’re a clever man Kit. Think about it. You frequent a secret molly house with a group of powerful men all who get pleasure from laying with each other. Some of them like to dress in lady's garb, some of them like to get spanked, or tied down; others just want to be held and kissed. This is a safe place for them to love without fear. Are they all sick too? Do they all have demons inside them? Do they deserve to be punished?” I asked. “Is Napier going door-to-door and sticking it to all of them too with his magic prick?” I paused for a breath to bank my anger.

“All you’ve known is the pain of your desire for a male bed partner. But, Kit, it doesn’t have to be that way,” I implored. “I’ve seen how the men who come here love each other, and I know that men really can love as a man loves a woman. It’s beautiful and—“

Kit’s eyes widened, “What do you mean; you’ve seen how the men who come here love?”

Oh shit. Looks like I’d put my foot in it.

“Tell me!” Kit demanded and his eyes flashing stormily.

I ran a worried hand over my mouth, took a deep breath, and reluctantly explained,

“I, eh…found plans, architects plans for Wychwood and there’s…passageways behind the walls. I’ve explored them a few times while the house is in use…I’ve seen…”

“You watch men…fuck! Did you watch…me and—?”

Burning shame made me mute. I couldn’t look Kit in the eye, so my gaze fell to fix on his leather boots. I bit my lip and gave a shameful nod. Kit stood and agitatedly began to pace the room. I knew then that I’d blown it. What would he do? I expected he’d probably tell my employer that I was a filthy peeper and get me fired. Gods, I’d end up as one of them ghastly floating bloaters dragged from the Thames cos I knew too much about all these powerful gentlemen and their habits!

Kit turned to me, but his eyes were not the stormy seas I expected, they were wide and fevered, not with anger, but with excitement.

“Will you show me?”

“What?”

“The plans, and the passages, show me the passages. I want to see how men love one another,” he admitted. “I…I thought it was possible, I’d read of it in classical poetry, but Edward kept telling me I was wrong, and my mind was sick.” Kit was raving now. “I need to see the proof. Will you prove it to me, please?”

“Oh,” I brightened, bemused and pleased that he didn’t seem to care that I’d witnessed him getting fucked; he just wanted to know that it was possible to find love with another fellow.

“Yes, of course, I can show you.”

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