Page 30 of The Songbird of Wychwood
PERCY
The carriage pulled up at Hamilton Place and I exited first, holding the door open.
“Blow me! Percy! This place is a palace,” George exclaimed.
“Just you wait until I open the front door,” I added, pleased to have brought such a sparkle back into his eyes. The afternoon and evening had been quite the trial for both George and Eloise as they covertly packed George’s trunks and brought them down the back stairs at the theater to be ready to be moved onto my carriage while the show was on.
Alfred Grayson was arrested back stage while the French Can-Can dancers were entertaining the drunken crowd. It was perfect timing as the noise of cheering covered up Grayson’s mewling complaints of injustice. Alfred Grayson would be up before the magistrate at midday on Friday, and he would either be sent to Pentonville Prison to await his court date, or his bail would be set and he’d walk free…for the time being. If that happened, I was sure Grayson, and his accomplices would come looking for George. I could not let that happen. Simmons told me that the police had proof of long-term fraud and so this matter was out of George’s hands now.
We stood outside a building on Hyde Park Corner that I was intimately familiar with. It was seventeenth century in design, with wonderfully detailed stone carved cartouches and grotesques adorning the guttering to direct rainwater. The front door was painted vermilion, and the key I drew from my pocket fit snuggly into the keyhole. Entering the marble foyer, I tasted the musty air and I doubted anyone had been here and opened a window since Theodore was last at his city bolt hole. Gods, how long had it been? I missed him dreadfully. The apartment took up the whole lower floor of the huge building. The décor was lavish with high ceilings and intricate plasterwork. There were murals of cherubs and gold leaf detailing.
“I haven’t been here in months. The rooms all need airing,” I confessed as I opened the first set of double doors that led into a huge lounge. Grandfather had a vast collection of books, and they filled every space on the lines of shelves. I turned to see George standing in the doorway looking mesmerized. The room was not only crammed with books, there were sculptures of muscled Greek wrestlers, warriors in heroic poses, and paintings of nude men in all kinds of allegorical compositions…so many glorious examples of heroic masculinity.
“I can’t live here!” George gasped as he strode into the lounge.
“Why the devil not?” I asked, confused.
“You have eyes, Percy, look at the place. LOOK!” He spread his arms wide and turned in a circle with a wondrous beaming smile on his face. George sang the first line of the chorus of Captain Rimmer’s song. “Always look after your privates and your privates will look after you!” I laughed.
“The acoustics…they’re marvelous, bloody marvelous,” he cried excitedly before doing scales. He was right, his voice sounded clear as a bell.
“I don’t think I’ll ever sleep in this place, what with the high ceilings and all of the looking, and reading and exploring I’ll have to do.”
“Well, it seems you’d have gotten on very well with my late grandfather,” I grinned, “I’m sure he would have adored you as much as I do.” I met George’s beautiful gaze and the butterflies in my belly took to the wing, my deep affection for George mirrored back to me.
“This all belongs to me now. I haven’t a notion of what to do with all of Theo’s personal effects. The thought of sorting through his belongings is…well, I’ll avoid it for as long as I can.” I confessed.
“I can help…if you want. It’s not as if I’ll have much to do while this gruesome business with Grayson is sorting itself out,” George suggested. It was a kind gesture, but unnecessary. George didn’t have to work to earn his place with me. I wanted him here, I wanted him safe, and finally we could be alone and love freely when we pleased.
“Forgive me if this is an impertinent question, but…was your grandfather…like us?”
“What makes you say that?” I asked innocently.
“Eh, hello?” George said throwing my arms out again and directing to all of the artistic depictions of masculine perfection surrounding us.
“Oh! Gods,” I ran my fingers through my blond curls. “I really should have put two and two together long before he died,” I said full of regretful. “It was Theo who brought us together, you know. I would never have discovered Wychwood if he hadn’t left the token for me in his will.”
“God bless him! We shall have to drink to Theo then tonight!”
A clattering sound drew our attention and we both turned to see Eloise stagger into the room overburdened.
“Bloomin’ hell, this place is a palace!” she gasped as she dropped three carpet bags of George’s belongings inside the doorway. The lounge was a huge room with lots of floor space. I saw the moment a wicked twinkle lit in Eloise’s eyes and I knew she could not resist it. She ran and then did a back flip, landing with perfect poise in front of me.
“Good lord that was remarkable!” I exclaimed with delight.
“Oh, my word, so much space, and you have doors that go out onto a garden…a garden George, you’ve got a bloomin’ garden!” Eloise said excitedly scurrying to the French doors and unlocking them to let the not so fresh city air into the room. “Oh, it’s lovely, in need of tending, but lovely anyways,” she called as she ran down a path in the overgrown lawn.
“Um, before we get too distracted, let’s at least move my belongings into the hall so we can go back and get the rest,” George suggested.
“Indeed.” I checked my pocket watch. It was after ten in the morning and Alfred Grayson was up before the magistrate at midday. George’s costumes were still at the theater, and we needed to clear out the dressing room. He would not be going back afterwards.
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An hour and a half later everything George Dancie owned had been removed from the Middlesex Music hall. It was as if he’d never lived there at all. George was quiet and lost in his thoughts in the carriage on the way back to Hyde Park Corner. I supposed that leaving the place you’d called home for so many years must be upsetting, especially as the move had been thrust upon him by fear and necessity, and not of his choosing. A thought came to me then, that maybe I could share this new chapter with my paramour. Mother was away in the country, and so this was the perfect time for me to also fly the nest. Father would take no issue with my move, as he was aware Theodore had bequeathed me the city apartment, but I wondered what George would think about us living together. We’d not known one another for long, but he had swiftly become my best friend. My heart was committed to him for as long as he would allow it.
I reached out and squeezed George’s thigh to gain his attention. “Are you alright?” I asked softly, drawing him from his thoughts.
“No, I’m not, not yet anyways, but I will be,” he said distractedly. “I’ve so many fond memories of the place and some of the people. I’m sad to turn my back on the Middlesex. You’re a good friend, Percy. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t offered me a place to stay. And, as you said, there’s a big world out there.”
“There is,” I paused for a beat. “Would you mind awfully if I…shared it with you?”
“The world or the apartment? George grinned. “There’s plenty of space in both!” He halted for a moment before tentatively asking, “Do you really want to live with me?”
“I do. I think a change all round is good for us, don’t you? Imagine sleeping in the same bed each night. Imagine being free to gamahuche me whenever you please. It will be quite the adventure.”
“I want to kiss the face off you Percy Harcourt!” George admitted with a foxy grin, “But I guess as we’re living together now, I can save it for later and take my sweet time!”
Goodness, I ran a finger around my collar to loosen it. It was…rather warm in the carriage. But I must admit I was already pleased with my decision.
“I hope you can cook something edible, cos a boiled egg and toast is just about all that I can manage,” George laughed.
“No matter, I’ll be placing a regular order with Fortnum and Mason to ensure we received a weekly delivery of groceries, and I’ll employ a daily cook, and a char lady to clean the place once a week and do the laundry.” George snuggled into me and laid his head on my shoulder and snuck his hand into mine.
“We’re going to be just fine, you and I, you’ll see!” he said, sounding brighter than he had done a few minutes ago.
When the carriage pulled up on Hamilton Place, Eloise was waiting at the door. I’d given her a pound note and asked her if she could buy victuals enough to see us well fed tonight. And from the baskets of foodstuffs she held, she’d done just that.
George and I were assisted by my driver to carry the remaining costume trunks and cases into the hallway. There was quite a pile now, as George kept a lot of the costumes and dresses that his mother had created to showcase her talents. He did not want to part with them or leave them for Grayson to pick over. But luckily the apartment had a great deal of space, four sizable bedrooms, a lounge, a study, a bathroom, and a kitchen. There was even a grand piano in the foyer that had been hidden under a white Holland cover. We would make space, find a room that George could call his own and use as his music room.
Eloise prepared a meal of fresh bread, warm mutton, meat pies, cheese, apples, and wine that she’d purchased from a local market. However, she was performing again tonight, and so after eating with us she had to take her leave.
“I hope you’re both very happy here. You deserve to be happy,” she said raising her glass for a final toast. We drank and then said our goodbyes. Eloise hugged us both and then headed for the door.
“Send a note when you get word about what’s happened to Grayson,” George called.
“Will do!” Eloise replied before the front door slammed shut.
Silence settled in the kitchen and I sank into it. George was now away from the clutches Alfred Grayson and safely ensconced in my apartment. I sat looking at him across the kitchen table and listened to the soft ticking of the clock on the mantle. Yes, I liked this. This felt right.
“I shall send a note to Blackwood Hall and instruct my manservant to pack up my room. I must say, it will be rather strange to not have a man-of-all-work at my beck and call. I suppose I shall have to learn to do things myself…will you teach me how to darn my socks?” I said wistfully.
“Oh, beloved. You stick to writing love poetry and I shall happily care for your wardrobe, and your holy socks!” We laughed and then George stood. “Come, before the daylight goes, let’s have a look around. We have to set the fires, and work out which room we’re sleeping in.”
I was so glad that my George was a practical sort of fellow because setting the fires hadn’t even crossed my mind!
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