Noblesse Oblige
Book Two
Indian Summer

By: Pete Bruno & Henry Hilliard
(© 2013 by the authors)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 9
Christmas Comes 

The sound of ringing metal drew Martin through the crooked main street in the village of Branksome-le-Bourne.  He set his bicycle down and followed the chimes into the forge. There, in the gloom, illuminated by the unearthly glow of the coals, stood the Norse figure of Stephen wielding a hammer on the glowing and malleable iron.  He was shirtless, wearing a leather apron and was dripping with sweat.  His face and arms were streaked with soot and his muscles flexed with each stroke, as the metal, held in pincers, yielded under his mighty sledge.

He looked up. “Mala!” he cried as he wiped his brow with the back of his hand.  He plunged the glowing metal into a bucket of water with a terrible hiss.

“Stephen, hullo. What are you doing?” asked Martin. Stephen came over to him excitedly.

“I’m making the weather vanes for the bathrooms.  Here look!” He showed Martin a stack of black shapes against the wall. “Farley has been giving me lesson; he made the main parts and I’m just doing the decorations.” There were silhouettes of dogs and foxes, cockerels, initials, haystacks and a G V.R. to honour the new king. “Miss Tadrew had me do one of Coker,” said Stephen picking out the one shaped like a puppy.”

“They’re wonderful, Stephen, real works of art,” said Martin in genuine admiration.

“Thank you, Mala,” said Stephen, giving the boy a hug as no one was watching. You know Miss Tadrew’s is practically finished, except for the lime wash and the foundations are poured for another six. We’re having the grand opening on Boxing Day.  You’ve got to give a speech if William doesn’t.”

Martin wasn’t really concerned about the speech, but he was overjoyed that his brother was allowed to come home for a few days, under strict doctor’s orders.

“It will be a wonderful Christmas,” said Martin as Stephen pulled his shirt on.  They cycled home with Stephen telling him what a success Herman Moss had been and how he and Blake had found a local builder who had mustered a team of dedicated workmen for the project.

They quickly repaired to their room, eager to catch up.  Chilvers was there unpacking Martin’s box and hanging up his clothes, looking disapprovingly at garments that Martin had brought home from school in a filthy condition.  They made conversation, impatiently waiting for the servant to depart.  

“Christopher Tennant will be here for Christmas and I told him we’d go up to London.  He’s very keen on the bright lights. I hope you’ll like him.”

“I’m sure I will,” said Martin, with generosity, but looking at Chilvers who was still folding clothes.

“Mr Chilvers, could Mr Tennant have a room near us?”

“Yes sir, I’ll put him next to Mr Craigth and have Carlo attend to them both.”

“Carlo?” said Martin.

“Yes,” said Stephen answering for Chilvers. “He’s the new footman.  He’s William’s brother.”

“Cousin, I believe, sir,” put in Chilvers as he was straightening ties.

“And we’ll have quite a crowd at Christmas, Stephen,” said Martin. “Aunt Maud and Antony and Sophia and you’ll be pleased to see your old friends Senator and Mrs Buckweet.” Stephen went red. “And Mr and Mrs Sachs and their new baby.  Look Chilvers, I have to take Mr Knight’s trousers off right away, I’m sorry if you haven’t finished your work.”

“Just pass them to me, sir I think they will need to be attended to in view Mr Knight spending so much time at the forge, sir.”

Martin feverously undid Stephen’s belt and his dirty old trousers dropped to the floor. He was naked beneath them and his big cock lazily arose in a salute.  Chilvers took the trousers in a dignified silence and withdrew.

Martin dropped to his knees and sucked the dripping cock then, remembering that he hadn’t kissed Stephen yet, let it go and stood for a passionate kiss, tears in his eyes.  Stephen pushed his head gently down and he sucked and sucked. Stephen let himself spend quickly as Martin seemed starving.  Martin whimpered with gratitude and then buried his face in Stephen’s foetid armpits.

“I want to bathe you Stephen; you’re filthy and although I like you this way, we have to go and meet Mr Moss. I haven’t been introduced yet.” Before Stephen could say anything Martin had run the bell.

“But you haven’t spent yet, Mala, and I can’t let Mr Chilvers see me like this.”

“I want you to pleasure me in the bath and don’t worry about Chilvers; I’m sure he’d like to bathe you himself if you asked him.”

Chilvers appeared and was asked to draw them a bath.  Stephen looked around for some clothes to hide his nakedness, and particularly to veil his still-dripping erection, but Chilvers had removed them all.

“I have taken the liberty of putting out the verbena bath salts, your lordship.  I think lemon verbena would suit Mr Knight very well, sir,” said the servant before he glided away.

In the warm water Martin rested comfortably because, as he said, he was master of the house and Stephen had to endure the tap end.  Nevertheless Martin pleasured Stephen again and Stephen used the soap to cause Martin to spill, their seed floating like ectoplasm in the sudsy brew.

Martin took particular delight in shampooing Stephen’s beautiful black hair, including the hair on his chest, armpits and in his private areas.  Stephen was made to turn around and Martin soaped and scrubbed his broad shoulders and strong back.  Stephen was not allowed to dry himself with the warm fluffy towels; that was his task Martin said.  Stephen said that he wanted Martin to stay wet as he loved the way his golden hair was plastered flat over his face and over his plump cock.  However Martin complained that he was freezing and Stephen reluctantly put fear of pneumonia over his own pleasure and allowed him to dry and dress.

*****

Martin was impressed with Herman Moss as Stephen had predicted.  He shook hands, trying to imagine the tall, youthful figure without his clothes.  He seemed to fill out his trousers nicely, but Martin couldn’t linger in his observation for Moss had important news.

“Your lordship, Mr Knight, I have received two letters just today.  The first is from a Mr Weaver who is the publisher of ‘Country Life.’ Mr Weaver would like to write an article on our bathrooms for his magazine.  Apparently he heard about what we are doing from Lord Delvees.  He wants to come with a photographer in the spring. Would that be acceptable to your lordship?  I hope it will be, sir, because it has a bearing on the second letter.  This one is from the firm of manufacturers who is making all our windows—which, as you know, are metal and of one type and of a stock size.  If he can use photographs of Croome and your lordship’s name he will sell us the windows only slightly above cost price, sir.  It will affect a tremendous saving.”

Martin felt he could hardly refuse, although he knew his father would never have countenanced such vulgar publicity or sought a tradesman’s discount—at least not before he went to France.  He also saw Stephen’s eager face. “That’s marvellous Mr Moss, we’ll see if we can get other suppliers to do the same.  What stage are we at?”

Moss explained that these ones were by way of an experiment and would come in more expensive than the ones following. “We have not got our building program properly organised yet and we will have to call a halt until the warmer weather. The men will have to be let go and then we’ll have to see if they can be brought back together in the New Year.  I suggest that we build more than we originally planned during the warm months and let the men go elsewhere when it’s too cold to work. We should buy the windows in quantity and store them as we can’t finish the building without them. The stoves however we should order just precisely as we need them. It would be cheaper that way.”

Stephen then reminded Martin about Mr and Mrs Tidput and the dairy scheme. “We can discuss it with William too,” he said.

“We can continue this discussion over dinner, Mr Moss, as we won’t get the chance when the house is full.  I hope you will dine with us when we’re here?”

That night in bed Martin and Stephen both vied in expressing how much each missed the other. “Have you had any adventures that you haven’t put in your letters, Mala?” asked Stephen.

“Well I hope you wont mind, but…” and he launched into the story of Mr Daventry.

Stephen was very impressed with their courage and cheek and The Plunger now stood high in his estimation. He hefted his balls out and asked Martin to demonstrate Mr Daventry’s surprising purchase that delighted Mrs Daventry so unexpectedly.  Martin put his hand around Stephen’s sack above his balls and pulled gently. “It went here like this.  It must have weighed half a pound.  I don’t want you to get one, Derby, your balls look good already and hang nicely.”

“But it must feel good, said Stephen excitedly. They hang low do they?”

“Yes, lower than yours, but yours are bigger.”

“Bigger you say?”

“Yes, you heard me,” said Martin in exasperation. He bent down and kissed Stephen’s balls, taking each one into his mouth.

After a pause, Martin asked: “Did you have any adventures, Derbs?”

“Well, Christopher has been pleasuring himself in my room quite often.  He guessed about us, but he’s all right with it now.  Mala, I think we may have to let him sleep with us, like Douglas did.”

“And like Archie—it may get crowded.  I thought you said he likes girls?”

“He does, but he likes to—you know—in my bed.”

Martin smiled. “I’m sure he does.  I do.”

“And there was another little adventure,” continued Stephen and he embarked on the tale of Mrs Leybourne.

“No!” exclaimed Martin.

“Yes!” replied Stephen and drew the story to its finale. “You do understand my position, Mala? It was an emergency.”

Martin understood all too well and was chuckling as he snuggled down onto Stephen’s chest. His teeth found Stephen’s big tan nipple and he bit down.

“Ow!” cried Stephen. “What was that for.”

“It was an emergency.  I was practicing for when I dance with Mrs Leybourne.”

*****

The next morning the boys rugged up and rode their bicycles down into the village where they called on Knight and then Miss Tadrew.  Hughes let them in.  “How are you Hughes?” said Martin.

“Very well your lordship.  I’ve settled down well here and Miss Tadrew has been very kind to me and to young Tom, sir.  Thank you for the bicycle; I can now get over to Pendleton quite easily. I have been making a vegetable garden for Miss Tadrew, your lordship, but it’s taken a bit of a hit.”

He led them to the kitchen window and they surveyed the yard now full of builders’ rubble and the demolished sheds and privy.  All was lightly dusted with snow.  To the left stood the neat little building that contained Miss Tadrew’s new bathroom and also the one for Miss Flint, the schoolteacher who lived in the adjoining cottage. The walls still awaited their lime plaster, but the miniature-thatched roof was a very neat job and only required Stephen’s weather vane in the shape of Coker for completion.  Beyond could be glimpsed the framing for the pair belonging to Hinton the waggoner and wheelwright and his married son.

At that moment Miss Tadrew came into the room carrying the puppy. “Merry Christmas your lordship, Stephen.  I’ve just been drying Coker for he has been a very naughty boy and got himself all wet and muddy.”

Miss Tadrew was very excited and led them on a tour.  Her old stove had its boiler now connected to one of a pair of brass taps above the wooden sink, the old pump having been removed.  They followed her out of the kitchen door, down a step into the red tiled little room with no less than eight small windows and a glass door to the yard.

A door led to a tiny bathroom with a white tub and a small basin that hung in the corner.  The visitors turned the taps on and off.  Next the porcelain lavatory was admired as if it were a marble statue.  Its operating chain was not yet complete.  A further door went to the washhouse where another pair of taps and a stout length of rubber hose served the trough and the copper boiler for the clothes.  

Miss Tadrew opened a cupboard to reveal a wood box. “If Mary fills the copper from the hot water, we won’t need such a lot of wood to heat the wash,” she explained.

Martin was invited to operate the pump handle that filled the cistern in the ceiling.  A few strokes and some splashing outside from an overflow revealed that the tank was brimming. Martin looked up at the tented ceiling and there, bathed in the warmth, was an airier upon which dangled a pair of Miss Tadrew’s sensible bloomers. She hurried the visitors out.

Stephen said: “I’m investigating if linoleum would be cheaper and easier to keep clean than the tiles.”  Martin looked down at the floor and saw a pair of muddy boots—obviously belonging to Hughes—and a potted fern.  The china pot, with its attractive design of rosebuds on the handle revealed itself to be one of those necessary but unmentionable objects, which the march of progress had just now rendered redundant.

*****

“I’m knackered!” said Carlo. “I thought you said this place was quiet with just his young lordship and Mr Knight.  It’s been worse than the first night out of Southampton on an Atlantic crossing.  Did you see how much luggage that Mr Craigth brought with him?  Taken me hours to unpack everything.  Why didn’t he bring his own valet? The other one’s got hardly anything at all—Mr Tennant—but he’s a nice looking lad and has a smile for you, not like the other fish-faced one.”

“Mr Craigth ain’t as stuck up as he appears—he’s not proper aristocracy—don’t let that eye glass fool you,” replied William from the adjacent bed. “The Jewish couple with the baby brought their own nursemaid and Lord and Lady Dalvees brought a lady’s maid and a valet. Which one do you prefer, Carlo?

“Not the lady’s maid—‘Grosvenor’—if you please, but the valet, young Percy, looks like he might be up for some fun.  If not, then there’s the pretty nursey, Robbins.”

“There’s more arriving tomorrow— the Aunt and her two grown-up children.  And the Marquess will be coming up from Bournemouth with his own nurse.  Jackman is fetching him in the motor.  It will be like old times when the mistress was still alive,” reflected William as he shifted in his narrow bed. “We had some Christmases then, Carlo, I tell you.  You know we go with the boys to London after Christmas?”

“Yes,” replied Carlo. Then he said:  “Bill? What are you going to do with your money and I hear there might be some more coming from the French?”

“I don’t rightly know.”

“Ever thought of opening a little hotel or boarding house, maybe in Paddington or at the seaside—or on Jersey perhaps?”

“Well, I don’t know. You mean you and me, right? Jersey or Guernsey would be nice; I was on the Riviera, you know, so I know a bit of the lingo.”

“We’re a good team, Bill,” said Carlo, propping himself up on one elbow, the hair on his chest attractively exposed in his open vest.

“But I might like to train as an under butler and then one day be a butler.  Mr Chilvers says I’ve got the makings and I like to organise things and have them all ship-shape—and I’m not the one who’s the sailor!”

“Your side of the room is pretty tight compared to mine,” admitted Carlo.

“Carlo, would you like me to suck you?” said William suddenly.

“Would you? I could really do with it.”

Carlo swung out of bed and, despite the cold, shed his underwear and straddled Williams face.  He had a big uncut cock that curved down over his ball sack.  Like his chest, his groin and thighs were covered in wiry black hair set against his olive skin.  William licked him to hardness and then took the big cock between his lips and gently sucked.

“We’re a good team, but an odd one Bill.  I love your soft lips and your fine skin and you like my hairy body, don’t you?” Carlo put his palm on the cheek of the sucking footman and directed his gaze upwards. “Don’t you?” he repeated. William nodded. “Keep looking at me, I like it.”

Carlo reached behind him and undid some buttons to free William’s cock.  He gently stroked it. “Do you want to taste my seed again Bill? Remember the taste?”  William didn’t reply. Carlo then began thrusting in William’s mouth causing him to gag. “Want me to stop, Bill?” William shook his head  “Didn’t think so,” said Carlo and he increased his pace.  He held William’s head steady between his hands and William found that he had to place his own hands on Carlo’s cock to regain some control.  The bed was groaning and shaking as it bumped against the wall. “Nearly there Bill!” cried Carlo as he felt his seed rise. The thrusting became frantic and, just as he spent, there was an almighty crash as the bed collapsed, bringing down with it a framed view of the Blackpool Illuminations with a splintering of glass.

The door flew open and there stood Chilvers, “What in heaven name…” Before him in the ruins was the naked form of Carlo, his hairy buttocks beaming a greeting to the unexpected visitor.  His cock was still oozing, a long strand poised in mid-air above William’s chest and all three were momentarily transfixed by this until at last, overcome by gravity, it fell to join the pool already waiting. William still had his mouth agape and was coated in seed with his own cock hard and protruding through his long underwear.

Chilvers closed the door and told William to close his mouth. “When I assigned you both to this room,” he began, “I’m not sure this is what I expected to be going on behind closed doors.  What about all the noise, waking the whole house, not to mention the damage to the furniture? William, what about your legs?

“He wasn’t using his legs, Mr Chilvers, sir,” said Carlo. Chilvers just gave him a look.

“I could report you to his lordship or to the police.” Both miscreants thought this unlikely. “Mr Sifridi, are you happy with us here?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Carlo.

“That is good because only this morning there was a person asking for someone of a similar name in the kitchen yard and I told him I’d never heard of anyone by that name.  I didn’t like the look of him.  Do you think I should try to find him again, he left an address in Liverpool?”

“It would be convenient if you didn’t Mr Chilvers.”  Chilvers just raised an eyebrow.

“William, have you told Mr Sifridi he will be joining you in London to look after his lordship and Mr Knight?

“Yes sir,” replied William.

“I hope you will explain to him how his lordship and Mr Knight, to whom you owe a great deal, are to be treated with respect, discretion and privacy; and as I believe you did in France.  Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir, we have sort of discussed it, sir.”

“Good, then I will leave you. You will both have to sleep in the other bed tonight and Carlo, I think if you are to continue in service, you might like to start with your cousin,” he said with the slightest of glances to William’s cock which was still half hard and totally unsatisfied.

“Yes, Mr Chilvers,” said Carlo, smiling for the first time as he stroked the needy member. Chilvers quietly closed the door on his way out.

*****

On Christmas Eve there was a very fine gathering in the Great Hall where the German Christmas tree stood.  The Hall had two fireplaces in which blazes burned brightly.  Vying with the decorated tree for attention was the welcome figure of Lord Branksome himself who sat in a wheelchair decorated with some holly with a rug over his knees and a woollen hat over his misshapen head.  His brother and Stephen stood by his side.

Carol singers arrived from the village and the servants were brought in to partake of the festivities.  Carlo nudged William, who was supporting himself on a stick, and indicated the fresh-faced Percy, with a wink.  William also directed his attention to the good-looking Jackman who filled out his uniform very handsomely.  Paul, the third footman was already talking to the Sachs’ nursemaid while James was concentrating on the hymns with his usual religious fervour.  Mulled wine was served and three or four of the maids became giggly and Mrs Capstick, who looked worn out from her labours, told them to leave the room and go up to their beds.  She and the cook would be up until the small hours preparing for the following day.

Martin and Stephen were in bed.  A fire burned low in the fireplace, illuminating the room comfortingly. “Derby,” said Martin, “I have another present for you that I didn’t want the others to know about.” He climbed out of bed naked and sprinted on his toes to a drawer and returned with and envelope.  He took delight in putting his cold feet on Stephen’s warm legs.

“It’s a key, Mala!” said Stephen as he opened the envelope. “But what does it open?”

“Oh it opens your house; I brought you one.”

“But I want to live with you, Mala,” said Stephen in alarm.

“Oh, I will come and live in it with you.  It’s not in England; it’s in France—in Antibes.  Do you remember that little bistro with the funny old patronne?”

“Yes of course, it was a wonderfully happy day.  I don’t care that much for Cannes.”

“Well I noticed a little old building opposite it—an empty shop actually. Quite tumbled down but with lovely shutters, and I kept thinking of it and I finally got Sir Danvers to put in an offer for it— just a couple of hundred pounds because it’s not large and it’s a wreck, and, well, it’s now yours.”

“Oh Mala, thank you.  That’s wonderful.  We can go there and fix it up,” said Stephen barely able to contain his excitement.

“That’s what I was thinking. Let me tell you what I know about it…” Martin described the old shop: it was three or four steps up from the narrow street and consisted of a principle room on the ground floor and two rooms above, the front one which had the charming shutters, opened onto a tiny bracketed balcony. There was also a large cellar built into the slope of the land. “Sir Danvers’ man thinks the place must have been a wine shops for the cellar has a door at street level around the corner.  There’s also a large garden at the back which the patron has been using to grow his vegetables because it was his brother-in-law’s property.”

Stephen was terribly excited. “We can fix it up and live there by ourselves. We won’t need servants—well maybe just a charwoman—and we can eat all our meals in the bistro. I suppose I could put in a stove. Can you cook Mala?” Martin shook his head. “Well I can a bit and we’ll have to put in a bath and a lavatory.  Should we have other people to stay or just keep it for ourselves?”

“Both could be nice.  Why don’t we just go there ourselves in the summer and camp there and see what’s to be done before we invite other people. I’d love to be in the warmth with you, Derbs, wouldn’t it be lovely? Although it’s always warm in bed with you; you must have central heating,” he said as he ran his hands over Stephen’s naked body under the blankets.  Excited as they both were they eventually drifted off in each other’s embrace.

On Christmas day there was a large party from Croome who attended church.  Christopher Tennant was allowed to poke the fire.  Christmas dinner was served in great splendour, with William at the head of the table and all the footmen in attendance.  For an hour or two William was shut up with the boys, Sachs and Herman Moss and the running of the estate and the various projects were discussed. “Cousin John is back in Australia and he is still very interested in our progress and wants me to write a paper on it,” said Herman. Stephen beamed.

In the evening there was dancing and Stephen even asked Mrs Buckweet to partner him. Nothing untoward happened save for the Senator’s wife sliding her hand over Stephen’s groin and giving his free hanging cock a squeeze that made him wince slightly. She kindly reminded Stephen that her ‘at home’ days were Tuesdays and Sundays when the Senator was at his club and that either South Kensington or Gloucester Road stations would be found convenient on either line.

The party became considerably more lively as the evening drew on and Stephen and Christopher organised sports to be held in the Long Gallery, a seventeenth century room on the upper floor which, at 130 feet in length and lit by triple height windows, seemed specifically designed for games. William and Carlo held the tape and James was the starter.  There were egg and spoon races, mixed three legged races (Stephen quickly partnering Olivia while Mrs Buckweet had to make do with her husband) and ones where the gentlemen had to be ‘wheelbarrows.’ Finally there were chariot races where the ladies sat on rugs towed by one or two gentlemen up and down the polished floor, circling the statue of Samson Slaying the Philistines by Giambologna at one end and a large oriental vase at the other, reaching terrifying speeds.

The honours were given by Lord Branksome himself who had been helped up the stairs to a place of honour that Caesar may have envied.  The winner was Miss Tadrew who was driving Stephen and second prize went to Sophia who was towed by Senator Buckweet.  There was a special award (an orange) for Mrs Buckweet and Mrs Sachs who, as a pair, were driven by The Plunger.

Apart from the ruination of three Aubusson carpets, there was very little damage and much merriment when the guests at last departed for their rooms.

On Boxing Day William and Martin gave gifts to the servants and then Stephen and Martin set off for the village; they had a surprise for Titus Knight.  When the old man opened his large parcel he found a very smart new suit of clothes.  He was quite overcome and said, “But they’re too fine even for t’Sunday best, your lordship.  These are Lundon clothes.”

“Yes,” exclaimed Stephen with excitement, “That’s the point; you’re coming up to London with me to watch the coronation!”

“To London! “T’never bin there.  Oh that would be t’grand sight, t’his Majesty’s coronation!”

Martin revealed that he would be invited to the Abbey in place of his brother, but would not be wearing William’s ermine robes, merely this own ordinary clothes.  Stephen explained that he and Titus would be staying at Branksome House in Piccadilly and from its windows they could watch the procession, which would pass beneath.  He also said that Miss Tadrew would be invited. The coronation was months away, but the old man was excited and just a little nervous.

The great event of that day was the official opening ceremony for the bathrooms scheme.  At one o’clock the whole village and some from the other parts of the estate had gathered in the snow.  The party from the house came down and admired Miss Tadrew’s cottage, which was decked out in bunting.  Presently the Daimler rolled to a halt and William, swaddled in rugs and scarves, was cheered.  Jackman lowered the window and William leaned out.

He made a short speech about Croome and the advances in science and technology that will be no doubt made in the forthcoming century, heralding a better world for all.  He then went on to recall how his late father always had the interests of progress and the welfare of those on the estate close to his heart and was in fact on his way to examine the latest Imhoff waste treatment plants on the Continent when his life was so cruelly cut short. “This scheme is a fitting memorial to my late father,” he concluded before handing an engraved brass chain pull to Miss Tadrew.

The vicar then gave a blessing, adding that much worn dictum about sanitation being so closely aligned to the ways of God and then led the assembly in the Lord’s Prayer.  Following the ‘Amen’, Miss Tadrew disappeared into her cottage, only to emerge a few minutes later without the chain pull and all… well…flushed with pleasure. The crowd sang God save the King and dispersed to the warmth of their own homes.

To be continued... 

Thanks for reading.  If you have any comments or questions, Henry and I would love to hear from you.

Posted: 10/11/13