A/N: I love history and this story is inspired by the Victorian era. It was a fascinating and awful time. In a 100 years people will probably look back on 2022 with the same horror, wondering: how could they live like that?
Chapter 1.
A knock sounded on the glass and Tommy jumped, nearly dropping the book in his hands.
"Tea, young master?" The train attendant asked him.
Tommy shook his head. "No, thank you."
The trolley moved past him and he turned back to his book, eyes moving sightlessly over the letters.
His mind kept going back to the previous week. His grandmother's passing. The funeral. The guests, most of whom he didn't know. The people who came to inform him that he was being transferred to a boarding school ten hours away. Though at fourteen, it wouldn't be long before he would be left to his own devices.
At six he had lost his parents in a boating accident and now his widowed grandmother. The only other relative he knew of was an estranged uncle living in Scotland. But he didn't expect anything from a man who probably didn't know, or care, that he existed.
Tommy gulped, trying to hold back the tears. They came anyway, dripping onto the pages. He shut the book and gazed out the window, hunching down in his seat and hugging his stomach.
When the train arrived, a dour faced messenger waited for him with a sign at the station. And then he travelled another four hours by horse carriage.
The cobbled stone soon turned to dirt roads and grassy fields and Carton school finally appeared, a large white manor shrouded in heavy October fog.
"Here we are." The coachman opened the door and Tommy stepped down, gazing up at the manor in awe. A footman rang the bell at the entry and took Tommy's trunk from the carriage.
"Thomas Berkeley?" A stout man in a black suit walked out to meet him.
"Yes sir." Tommy bowed.
"I'm the housemaster, John Ramsden."
"Nice to meet you, sir." Tommy said, wide eyes flicking over the man's shoulder.
"Impressive isn't it?" The man followed Tommy's stare up the imperious walls, covered in red and orange vines. "It was established in fifteen-fifty-nine and most recently renovated four years ago."
"Yes, most impressive." Tommy agreed and the man nodded, puffing up his chest proudly.
"We're known to produce some of Britain's finest gentlemen. Boys need a firm hand to guide them and to prepare them for the harsh world ahead." He considered Tommy a moment, frowning.
"It's a pity you're only here for a year, but at least our reputation will elevate your orphan status. It was generous of your grandmother to secure you a spot or you might have ended up at the workhouse, eh? God rest her soul. Come along."
A little stunned at the bluntness of the man's speech, Tommy followed him inside.
They stepped into a grand hall and Mr. Ramsden spoke about the checkered marble floors, the staircase and the french windows. Four banners hung from the walls with words emblazoned on them: Tradition, Discipline, Strength and Endurance.
A few boys in uniform whispered as they passed, giggling when Tommy tripped on the stairs.
Mr. Ramsden never broke his long stride and Tommy had to nearly run to keep up.
"Third floor is the senior lads. Breakfast is at seven, followed by mass." He opened a door. "This is your room. Your uniform is laid out for you and your schedule is on the table. Put it on and be down for supper at six."
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Endurance (boyxboyxboy)
Historical FictionTommy is orphaned and finds himself carted off to boarding school. Warning: This story contains explicit sexual content and is for mature audiences only.