Gothic Romance - (LGBT)

Chapter Two

Jonathan gathered his bags together as a footman opened the carriage door, struggling to hold it against the wind.  

"Mr Winter?" the man spoke with a heavy accent.  

"Yes," answered Jonathan with a brief smile. 

"Can I take your bags, sir?" 

"No, I've got them. But there's a trunk on the back," he told him. 

"Leave it with me, sir. The master's waiting for you inside." 

Jonathan hurried up the steps, blinking in the rain, to where the door stood, held open by an elderly butler. He went inside with a nod of acknowledgement, looked in vain for a mat to wipe his boots on, then gazed around in search of Lord D'Anvers. 

At first he saw no-one, and then he glanced upwards at the staircase in front of him. A tall man, dressed all in black, except for the white lace frothing at his neck and wrists, stood halfway down the stairs, staring back under hooded eyes. His thick black hair was unpowdered, swept back from his forehead, harsh lines bracketed his mouth which was thin lipped and unsmiling. He must have been forty, older than Jonathan had been expecting for some reason. 

"Welcome to Blackstone." His voice was a crisp baritone, cool despite the words of welcome. "Dinner will be served in half an hour, please don't be late. Oh, James, show Mr Winter to his room will you?" 

"Yes, m'lord," murmured the footman, who had entered silently behind Jonathan. 

"Thank you, milord," said Jonathan, a bit uncertainly. He had felt he should say something but he didn't want to parrot the footman. 

He followed the footman up the stairs to the second floor and along the corridor to the left. James opened a door and went in. "This ere's your room, sir. The schoolroom is next door and Master Evelyn is in the one after that." The room was larger than he had expected and well, if plainly furnished, containing a bed, a chest of drawers and a cupboard. A chair sat before a small desk. Jonathan was surprised to find his trunk already there, at the foot of the bed.  

A black jacket and a shirt of dark blue were laid out on the bed. His uniform he supposed, though rather grand surely for such a purpose? He fingered the shirt, the material slipped through his fingers like silk. He supposed it was natural enough for his employer to provide a uniform but he couldn't help feeling a little uncomfortable. It was far more luxurious than anything he could afford himself. He turned to the waiting manservant. 

"Thank you, James. Can I trouble you for some water to wash in?" 

He caught the brief flash of concern over the man's face. "It's alright, I won't take long, but I'd like to clean up before I sit down with his Lordship.' 

"Of course, sir." 

Half an hour later, feeling more refreshed, and wearing the jacket, Jonathan followed James downstairs to the dining room. Lord D'Anvers was already there and he gestured to a seat at the end of the long table. When Jonathan was seated, he took his place at the other end. 

Another manservant served the meal, and as Jonathan was waiting for his Lordship to speak first, the entire meal was spent in silence. At the end, D'Anvers blotted his lips with a white napkin, and rose. Jonathan scrambled hastily to his feet. 

"I'll bid you good night, I have business to attend to this evening. James will show you over the house before retiring, but I'll introduce you to Evelyn, myself, in the morning." He turned as if to walk away. "Oh just one thing. The top floor of the west wing is out of bounds. No-one goes there without my express permission. Is that clear?" 

"Yes, my lord," answered Jonathan, suddenly and intensely curious. What a queer set up and no mistake!