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blood_wingedTitle: My Lord and Master, Chapter 1 of 7
Genre: AU/General/Romance
Word Count: 1524
Rating/Warnings: U, none.
Summary: Alfred Jones is the new manservant to the son of the late Lord Kirkland, a mysterious and secretive young man who seems out of place in his opulent surroundings. The previous manservant, Alfred's own father, said nothing of a youngest son and no one else appears to know of him, and Alfred wonders... what did the man do to warrant such secrecy? If he keeps his job for long enough, he may be able to find out.
( A/N: Late because of circumstances outside my control, i.e. my internet failing, followed by falling asleep a lot, but being posted anyway as the rest of the week is following on from it. )
Alfred Jones looked at himself in his slightly cracked mirror. The young man staring back at him looked pale and worried, his colour only made worse by the dark blue shade of his coat. It wouldn’t do at all. His first day on the job and he looked as if he was about to fall over or throw up, or something equally ridiculous and embarrassing that would no doubt get him sent home quicker than a shot from a musket. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes, leaning down over the sink to splash some cold water on his face. His cheeks stung for a moment and he flashed his best smile, something that made him look a little less peaky, before turning smartly on his heel and leaving the servants’ quarters.
The previous manservant, Alfred’s father, had been in Lord Kirkland’s service for longer than Alfred had been alive. It had only seemed a natural progression of things that when he died, Alfred would step up into his place. He would have been proud, Alfred’s mother said, that he was taking such a lucrative job but Alfred wasn’t so sure, he didn’t know if this was really what he wanted and he certainly didn’t know if he was cut out for this kind of thing. The rolling anxiety in his gut certainly told him otherwise as he moved up the narrow stone steps to the ground floor of the house, leaving the faint chill behind and heading straight to the drawing room, where he had been told the master would be waiting for him. At the door, he paused, unsure of whether to knock or simply walk in and deciding on the latter, the handle turning smoothly under his hand and the door sliding open without a sound.
Inside, the curtains had been opened and tea had been laid out, likely by one of the other servants. Over the back of a chair in front of the fireplace Alfred could see the top of a head of blonde hair. He felt that nervous twitch in his stomach again, straightening his coat and drawing in a deep, quiet breath. This was never going to be easy but he had the feeling he was making it more difficult than it had to be.
“Come along, I’m not paying you to stand idle.”
The voice made him jump. It was far younger than he’d expected and he crossed the room quickly, the occupant of the chair coming into view.
“… Lord Kirkland?”
The male in the chair could certainly not be the man that his father had worked for his entire life. He looked barely older than Alfred’s own age, not a single speck of grey in his hair and the only wrinkle on his face a tiny line between his thick eyebrows. His eyes were the deepest green that Alfred had ever seen, his skin pale and unblemished, an expression half way between imperiousness and disinterest settled on his features. They shared a long look, and then the young man sighed, getting to his feet. It didn’t take Alfred more than a moment to notice that he was leaning rather heavily on a polished wooden cane as he moved over to the fire and held his free hand out towards the flames.
“No doubt you have some questions,” he said. “Yes, I am Lord Kirkland. No, I am not the Lord Kirkland that your father worked for. Yes, I know who you are.” He looked over his shoulder, and Alfred looked back at him, his eyes a little wide. “Your father’s master was my father, and if you intend to keep your post you will make yourself useful to me. Stoke the fire, I can feel a chill.”
“… Yes, my lord.” Alfred lowered his eyes and made his way to the fire to do as he was told, feeling the other’s eyes on him as he crouched down to toss a couple more logs onto the blaze. He watched the flames licking over the dry wood, and straightened, clearing his throat softly. His master was pouring himself a cup of tea, though he didn’t seem to mind doing so, and Alfred held his tongue. Through all of his time working here, Alfred’s father had never mentioned that his master had a son of Alfred’s age, or indeed anyone of a similar age in the house. He had spoken of three older children, all grown and long since gone from the house on their own respective paths, but never of one still living there. Alfred stole a quick glance at his new master, watching the firelight reflecting off his eyes and the way he so delicately held the china teacup with his pinkie finger extended. It was going to be odd indeed, working for someone who was barely his senior, but perhaps it would be easier, too.
“Will there be anything else, Lord Kirkland?” he asked, drawing the other’s attention up to him. The other man set his teacup down and stood, adjusting his cravat and twitching his sleeves down. He looked uncomfortable, almost awkward in those clothes and Alfred couldn’t quite put his finger on precisely what it was.
“There are enough servants here to attend to the running of the house, you do not need to see to anything but making sure that the fires are stoked in the rooms that I intend to use.” He was speaking briskly, but flat, as if he was reading from a script. “I will expect you to wake me in the mornings at six thirty sharp, you do not need to make my breakfast but see that it is brought to me at seven fifteen. I take a bath every Saturday and you will be expected to have it ready for me by eight o’ clock in the evening. You will be in charge of organising the household finances and any travel arrangements that I care to make, though I do not intend to make many of them. The rest of the staff will report to you and I expect you to bring any grievances to me. I do not, however, require you to help me dress. I can manage that quite well.”
It had been something that Alfred had been prepared to do but hadn’t been particularly looking forward to. Everything else, though, that long list of things that he was expected to do sent his head in a spin and he could do little else but nod dumbly each time the other man paused for breath. He was going to have to write down all the times he was expected to be in certain places and from the sounds of it he was going to have to get used to answering to his master’s every beck and call also. Alfred nodded again and clasped his hands behind his back, giving a short bow and just for a fleeting moment he was sure that his master looked pleased. When he straightened, however, the expression was gone and the blonde simply appeared bored.
“I will allow you today to settle in to your new duties,” he said then. “Any mistakes that you make today will not be remembered against your future performance, but after that, I expect you to be performing to the best of your abilities, do I make myself clear?”
“Completely, my lord,” Alfred replied, lowering his head a little. It was a lot to take in at once and he knew he was going to have his work cut out, but thankfully years of listening to his father had taught him most of what he thought he would need to know. The rest, he could bluff through and pick up along the way. If there was one thing he was good at, it was pretending that he knew what he was doing.
“Good. Go down to the kitchen and have Mary show you around the house. Do not keep her from her work for too long.”
“Of course.” He bowed again, taking three steps back and then turning on his heel, walking briskly from the room. As soon as the door was closed behind him he leaned against it, letting out a slow breath and closing his eyes. He could feel his glasses sliding down his nose and hoped to God that the other hadn’t noticed how anxious he was. A manservant was supposed to be calm and composed, ready to take anything that their master could throw at them. His father had always seemed that way, and he’d always seemed so proud of it, too. Pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, Alfred looked up and ran his eyes over the decorative coving and the intricate panels in the ceiling, able to see even at this distance that there wasn’t a speck of dust or a single cobweb on them.
“I hope I don’t disappoint you, pop,” Alfred murmured, running a hand through his hair and then smoothing it down, setting his shoulders back and doing as he had been ordered, making his way to the kitchen.
----------
| Chapter Two |>
Genre: AU/General/Romance
Word Count: 1524
Rating/Warnings: U, none.
Summary: Alfred Jones is the new manservant to the son of the late Lord Kirkland, a mysterious and secretive young man who seems out of place in his opulent surroundings. The previous manservant, Alfred's own father, said nothing of a youngest son and no one else appears to know of him, and Alfred wonders... what did the man do to warrant such secrecy? If he keeps his job for long enough, he may be able to find out.
( A/N: Late because of circumstances outside my control, i.e. my internet failing, followed by falling asleep a lot, but being posted anyway as the rest of the week is following on from it. )
*****
Alfred Jones looked at himself in his slightly cracked mirror. The young man staring back at him looked pale and worried, his colour only made worse by the dark blue shade of his coat. It wouldn’t do at all. His first day on the job and he looked as if he was about to fall over or throw up, or something equally ridiculous and embarrassing that would no doubt get him sent home quicker than a shot from a musket. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes, leaning down over the sink to splash some cold water on his face. His cheeks stung for a moment and he flashed his best smile, something that made him look a little less peaky, before turning smartly on his heel and leaving the servants’ quarters.
The previous manservant, Alfred’s father, had been in Lord Kirkland’s service for longer than Alfred had been alive. It had only seemed a natural progression of things that when he died, Alfred would step up into his place. He would have been proud, Alfred’s mother said, that he was taking such a lucrative job but Alfred wasn’t so sure, he didn’t know if this was really what he wanted and he certainly didn’t know if he was cut out for this kind of thing. The rolling anxiety in his gut certainly told him otherwise as he moved up the narrow stone steps to the ground floor of the house, leaving the faint chill behind and heading straight to the drawing room, where he had been told the master would be waiting for him. At the door, he paused, unsure of whether to knock or simply walk in and deciding on the latter, the handle turning smoothly under his hand and the door sliding open without a sound.
Inside, the curtains had been opened and tea had been laid out, likely by one of the other servants. Over the back of a chair in front of the fireplace Alfred could see the top of a head of blonde hair. He felt that nervous twitch in his stomach again, straightening his coat and drawing in a deep, quiet breath. This was never going to be easy but he had the feeling he was making it more difficult than it had to be.
“Come along, I’m not paying you to stand idle.”
The voice made him jump. It was far younger than he’d expected and he crossed the room quickly, the occupant of the chair coming into view.
“… Lord Kirkland?”
The male in the chair could certainly not be the man that his father had worked for his entire life. He looked barely older than Alfred’s own age, not a single speck of grey in his hair and the only wrinkle on his face a tiny line between his thick eyebrows. His eyes were the deepest green that Alfred had ever seen, his skin pale and unblemished, an expression half way between imperiousness and disinterest settled on his features. They shared a long look, and then the young man sighed, getting to his feet. It didn’t take Alfred more than a moment to notice that he was leaning rather heavily on a polished wooden cane as he moved over to the fire and held his free hand out towards the flames.
“No doubt you have some questions,” he said. “Yes, I am Lord Kirkland. No, I am not the Lord Kirkland that your father worked for. Yes, I know who you are.” He looked over his shoulder, and Alfred looked back at him, his eyes a little wide. “Your father’s master was my father, and if you intend to keep your post you will make yourself useful to me. Stoke the fire, I can feel a chill.”
“… Yes, my lord.” Alfred lowered his eyes and made his way to the fire to do as he was told, feeling the other’s eyes on him as he crouched down to toss a couple more logs onto the blaze. He watched the flames licking over the dry wood, and straightened, clearing his throat softly. His master was pouring himself a cup of tea, though he didn’t seem to mind doing so, and Alfred held his tongue. Through all of his time working here, Alfred’s father had never mentioned that his master had a son of Alfred’s age, or indeed anyone of a similar age in the house. He had spoken of three older children, all grown and long since gone from the house on their own respective paths, but never of one still living there. Alfred stole a quick glance at his new master, watching the firelight reflecting off his eyes and the way he so delicately held the china teacup with his pinkie finger extended. It was going to be odd indeed, working for someone who was barely his senior, but perhaps it would be easier, too.
“Will there be anything else, Lord Kirkland?” he asked, drawing the other’s attention up to him. The other man set his teacup down and stood, adjusting his cravat and twitching his sleeves down. He looked uncomfortable, almost awkward in those clothes and Alfred couldn’t quite put his finger on precisely what it was.
“There are enough servants here to attend to the running of the house, you do not need to see to anything but making sure that the fires are stoked in the rooms that I intend to use.” He was speaking briskly, but flat, as if he was reading from a script. “I will expect you to wake me in the mornings at six thirty sharp, you do not need to make my breakfast but see that it is brought to me at seven fifteen. I take a bath every Saturday and you will be expected to have it ready for me by eight o’ clock in the evening. You will be in charge of organising the household finances and any travel arrangements that I care to make, though I do not intend to make many of them. The rest of the staff will report to you and I expect you to bring any grievances to me. I do not, however, require you to help me dress. I can manage that quite well.”
It had been something that Alfred had been prepared to do but hadn’t been particularly looking forward to. Everything else, though, that long list of things that he was expected to do sent his head in a spin and he could do little else but nod dumbly each time the other man paused for breath. He was going to have to write down all the times he was expected to be in certain places and from the sounds of it he was going to have to get used to answering to his master’s every beck and call also. Alfred nodded again and clasped his hands behind his back, giving a short bow and just for a fleeting moment he was sure that his master looked pleased. When he straightened, however, the expression was gone and the blonde simply appeared bored.
“I will allow you today to settle in to your new duties,” he said then. “Any mistakes that you make today will not be remembered against your future performance, but after that, I expect you to be performing to the best of your abilities, do I make myself clear?”
“Completely, my lord,” Alfred replied, lowering his head a little. It was a lot to take in at once and he knew he was going to have his work cut out, but thankfully years of listening to his father had taught him most of what he thought he would need to know. The rest, he could bluff through and pick up along the way. If there was one thing he was good at, it was pretending that he knew what he was doing.
“Good. Go down to the kitchen and have Mary show you around the house. Do not keep her from her work for too long.”
“Of course.” He bowed again, taking three steps back and then turning on his heel, walking briskly from the room. As soon as the door was closed behind him he leaned against it, letting out a slow breath and closing his eyes. He could feel his glasses sliding down his nose and hoped to God that the other hadn’t noticed how anxious he was. A manservant was supposed to be calm and composed, ready to take anything that their master could throw at them. His father had always seemed that way, and he’d always seemed so proud of it, too. Pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, Alfred looked up and ran his eyes over the decorative coving and the intricate panels in the ceiling, able to see even at this distance that there wasn’t a speck of dust or a single cobweb on them.
“I hope I don’t disappoint you, pop,” Alfred murmured, running a hand through his hair and then smoothing it down, setting his shoulders back and doing as he had been ordered, making his way to the kitchen.
----------
| Chapter Two |>
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-11 07:56 pm (UTC)I love how Alfred is so insecure and confused. He tries so hard ;w;
(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-11 08:40 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-11 08:27 pm (UTC)/ahem.
Love how this has been set up! Can't wait to read the rest! ♥ ♥ ♥
(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-11 08:40 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-11 08:57 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-11 08:36 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-11 08:40 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-11 09:56 pm (UTC)I love the premise, I love Arthur as a grumpy young lord and I will wait for more.^^
(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-11 10:00 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-11 10:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-11 10:17 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-12 04:39 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-12 09:34 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-12 06:45 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-12 09:34 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-08-16 08:06 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-08-17 12:53 am (UTC)