Masters And Lovers 1-4

Chapter 12

“Sir, I thought you would like to know. Since you've been, um, behaving yourself, there's talk of

extending your privileges.”

“In what way?” Content is © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

“Extra exercise time. A pleasanter job.”

“I fucking hate the laundries.”

“Don't blame you, sir.”

“Any chance of the library?”

“I'll see what could be done, sir, but I can't make any promises.”

“I understand…. Any news?”

“Little but wedding arrangements. The two men seem to have it worked out between themselves. One

is actually marrying her.…”

“Which one?

“Summerford, sir. The other one is his Best Man.”

“And she’s happy with all this?”

“So I’m being told, sir.”

“Anything else? Did you talk to Baxter?”

“Yes, sir. He says he can move any time you want with around twenty-four hours’ notice.”

“Excellent.”

*****

The day before the wedding… and I feel like a spare part. Limping into the dining room, I find a small

buzz of staff, moving efficiently and quietly, overseen by Beth, directing the laying out of the tables.

“Can I help?”

Her smile is brisk as she wipes hands on a cloth. “No, thank you, James. I think we have it under

control. If you make sure the kitchen staff have everything they need, I think Michael and I can handle

things in here.” She eyes me. “You're favouring that leg. Why don't you go get some sunshine on it?

Bake out the ache.”

She's right, and I should do it, but I'm enjoying myself, watching my plans finally come together.

Soon have the knot safely tied….

So, I hang around, getting under the feet of staff who already know their jobs and how to do them.

Beth carries in the first layer of the cake. It's a beauty. I’m no expert on these things, but the thing is a

minor work of art, almost plain white, but with a filigree of iced violets nestled at the base of each layer.

Charlotte appears carrying another layer.

Not looking happy….

Stressed I suppose….

Beth nods one way… “Where do you want it, Charlotte? Here, by the window with that lovely backdrop

over the view?” Then the other… “Or perhaps over there? Where it would be easier for the

photographer.”

Charlotte sets down her cake on the nearest table. Almost slams it down. “I really don't care….” Her

voice is sharp, almost shrill. “…We've proved haven't we that I'm no good at formal dinners and how to

do it properly. Ask Michael about the arrangements for his wedding.”

I’m about to speak, to reprimand her, but Beth flashes laser beams at me, holding up a hand, and I

subside.

“It's your wedding too,” she says. “Charlotte... Relax. Tell you what...” She puts down her own cake,

slides an arm around her cousin’s waist. “… You’re tired. Why not put your feet up for a bit? Have a

bath or a glass of wine. You’ll feel better for it.”

Charlotte nods, but glancing up, as she sees me, her face falls. “Sorry, Master,” she mumbles, looking

close to tears. Folding her arms, hunch-shouldered, she marches out.

“Young bride’s nerves,” says Beth. “I was just the same before my wedding. And think how hers turned

out the first time around. She’ll be fine.”

“Perhaps.”

This isn’t how I wanted it for her…

Surely Beth’s right?

Wedding nerves…

Just nerves…

She’ll be fine.

*****