Date: Tue, 2 Feb 2016 15:23:52 -0500
From: Pete Bruno <farmboy7456@gmail.com>
Subject: Noblesse Oblige II Chapter 5

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Noblesse Oblige
By Henry H. Hilliard
with Pete Bruno
Book 2
An Indian summer
Chapter 5

The stationmaster was chatting to Martin and Stephen as he watered his tubs
of red geraniums.  He asked his lordship if he would like the fire lit in
the waiting room, but Martin said that he was quite alright and thanked him
for his consideration.  They had come to meet some of the weekend guests
personally and two traps and the Daimler were waiting in the yard.

Presently the 1:46 came puffing round the bend and five travellers were
deposited on the platform and waited while the stationmaster and the
porter, assisted by Stephen, collected the luggage.  In one party were Aunt
Maude and her children, Sophia and Antony.  There was another young girl, a
slim and attractive debutante whom Sophia introduced as her friend, Miss
Webster.  The other party was singular in the person of a very
frightened-looking Donald Selby-Keam who looked relieved when he spotted
Stephen who was man-handling three suitcases with ease.  Introductions were
made and Antony Vane-Gillingham said, "Aren't you at my old school,
Selby-Keam?  I know your face and your name.  Your pa's a governor, isn't
he?"

Donald went very red and murmured something that wasn't a denial and then
almost withdrew his head into his collar like a tortoise when he was
presented to the girls.  Aunt Maude tried to make him feel relaxed by
saying, "Mr Selby-Keam, I know your father, Sir Maxwell, and your mother,"
but Donald only looked more miserable and stood by Stephen who glanced over
at Martin and shrugged.

Martin looked at Donald: he was slightly smaller than average for his age
and his shrinking demeanour seemed to have a physical effect on his
stature.  He wasn't bad looking, but was fairly pale and had some spots on
his chin.  His legs and arms were thin, but his shoulders were quite broad
when he straightened them and looked up, which was not often, as he seemed
to concentrate on the ground, except when he wanted to make sure that
Stephen was still in sight.

The ladies occupied the Daimler while the gentlemen and the luggage went in
the two traps. "We have a new tennis court which I'm hoping to christen
this weekend, said Martin, pleasantly.  "Do you play Antony, Selby-Keam?"
Antony said he did and Donald spoke up and said he played too.

"I didn't know that, Donald," said Stephen, "Tennant is teaching me and I
haven't seen you on the courts."

"I often come and watch you play, Stephen; you mightn't see me.  My father
has a court at home.  You need to work on your backhand.  I could help you
if you like."

Martin and Stephen exchanged glances; this was the most the boy had spoken.

When the great house came into view on the bend in the elm avenue they
paused to admire it.  Donald looked even more alarmed at its intimidating
grandeur.  "There's a very good library, Donald, we might look at it after
tea if you like," said Stephen.  The boy looked at him with frightened eyes
but did not reply.

The guests were on the court quite quickly and Miss Webster and Sophia were
patting the balls backwards and forwards with a good deal of laughter that
raised everybody's spirits.  Even Donald came out of his shell a little
when he played against Stephen and then Antony.  He was quite good and he
even managed a smile when Stephen praised him and asked again to be shown
how to hold his racquet.

Martin left the party to collect the Sachs and The Plunger who were on the
3.01.  Mrs Sachs was a warm and delightful young woman.  She was obviously
with child and it was lovely to see how solicitous Sachs was, explaining
that she required much persuasion to make the journey and how he had worked
out an elaborate scheme of connecting trains by using the Bradshaw which
saved nearly 20 minutes.  The Plunger was dressed in a sporting manner,
perhaps a little studied.  He had on flannels held up with a school tie
instead of the usual belt and on his head was a baggy cap.  He carried a
tennis racquet in a press.

"Did you have much of a game on the train down?" asked Martin
sarcastically.

The Plunger just said, "Hello, Poole.  Thanks awfully for inviting me."
And he was introduced to the Sachs.

Afternoon tea was quite jolly with the young ladies telling amusing stories
about their social life in London and The Plunger and Antony
Vane-Gillingham talking about sports and Oxford, respectively.  Donald,
however, spoke to nobody but Stephen so Martin let it go and asked instead
if The Plunger would like to stay on and go up to London with them.  The
Plunger's monocle dropped from his eye and he was clearly excited and asked
if he might telephone Dorking to inform his parents.

The guests assembled in the Red Drawing Room at seven o'clock.  This was
sometimes referred to as 'Mother's Drawing Room' as opposed to the five
other salons they might have chosen, most of which were rather cold and
gloomy, although the Red Drawing Room, with its gilding and tapestries, was
undoubtedly one of the finest in the county.  The original party was now
supplemented by the Plainsongs and daughter, the Destrombes, Miss Tadrew
and Mr Kells the librarian.

"Where does Mr Kells sleep and eat?"  Martin asked Chilvers.

"I don't rightly know, sir, Daisy's been taking him his meals for the last
four years."

Martin and Stephen moved through the room greeting their guests.  When they
reached their new financial advisor and his wife, Mrs Sachs said to Martin
and Stephen: "I could have my dinner on a tray in my room."

"Oh, I'm sorry; you don't feel up to eating downstairs?  I'll tell
Chilvers," said Martin.

"Oh no, it's not that your lordship.  Some people do not think it proper to
see a lady in my condition; they find it embarrassing."

"That's utter nonsense, Mrs Sachs.  Your 'condition' is perfectly natural
and not at all improper and what's more, we'd be deprived of your company.
Everyone at the table has been born of a pregnant woman.  This is the
twentieth century, not the nineteenth."

He turned to Stephen. "Now that we are masters in this house I want to move
with the times, Derby.  I don't want to be as formal as in my parents' day.
We won't have to dress for every meal.  Our guests can have breakfast in
bed if they want to or out by the tennis court in summer.  Our table won't
have to 'balance' and if we feel like having more men than women to dinner
we will.  We will invite wives without husbands and vice-versa, as long as
they don't talk nonsense with their mouths full, that's the important
thing.  We'll invite ladies that are expecting- and gentlemen too for that
matter!  We will mix things up and not stand on ceremony at the expense of
fun.  These occasions must be stimulating and pleasurable for our guests at
Croome; that's the important thing, don't you agree?"

"Have you been reading Mr Shaw, your lordship?" asked Mrs Sachs with some
humour.

"Well, yes, but only Major Barbara."

"Have you been reading Barrie, too, Martin?  He'd have Chilvers sit down
with the family like Crichton the butler," teased Stephen.

"Well, I wouldn't go that far, Stephen, not unless the revolution comes."

At eight they walked in procession across the Great Hall into the Gothic
Dining Room.  Chilvers and the three ambulant footmen were in attendance
and the guests circulated around the massive table and found their names.
Donald, at the last minute, had been placed between Stephen and Miss Tadrew
and across from Antony.  Miss Webster sat next to Stephen and was the
object of envy of the other two young ladies who had to settle for Martin
and The Plunger.

The first course was a cold one: eggs with caviar in aspic and quickly
followed by a soup served with sherry.  The well-bred guests turned to talk
to their neighbour on the other side after this.  Homard thermidor was
next, the small lobsters coming from the Dorset coast and it was served
with a dry Rhine wine.  The tournedos aux morilles was Stephen's favourite
as he was fond of steak, and was just about to say so when he heard Antony
Vane-Gillingham attempting to engage Donald: "I say, Mr Selby-Keam, what do
you make of our English master, old Mingis?"  Suddenly, Donald let out a
stifled sob and rushed from the table, covering his face with his napkin.

Stephen left discreetly from his place, murmuring some polite lie about
Donald being upset at news of a sick grandparent and went to find him.
Donald was in his room crying but wouldn't open the door.  Stephen said
that he must go back into dinner, but would return in half an hour and if
he didn't open the door he would break it down.

His tournedos were gone and the asperges printemps -suspicious for October-
even with the sauce hollandaise- was a disappointment.  Martin looked over
in his direction with an inquiring eye, while still engaging Prudence
Plainsong, but Stephen just shrugged.  There was a Macedoine of fruits
before the cheese and coffee.  Martin would not allow an English 'savoury'
to spoil this otherwise French menu.

Aunt Maude 'caught' the ladies' eyes and they retired to the drawing room.
Martin and Stephen deserted the men and went up to Donald.  "Please open
the door Donald. I don't want to break it.  Martin will be cross, won't
you, Martin?"  Martin replied that he would have to severely discipline
Stephen and make him pay for any repairs.

There was a click and the tear-stained Donald let them in.

"I'm sorry," he said with a sniff.  "I suppose I've ruined your dinner."

"No, you didn't; we just told them that you were upset about something at
home.  They didn't really notice," said Stephen.

Suddenly Donald threw his arms around Stephen and hugged him tightly.
Stephen looked at Martin helplessly and Martin just smiled.

"What is it, old sport?  What happened?" asked Stephen.  "Can you tell us?
We might be able to help; at least you might feel better if you tell your
friends."

"It's that swine, Mingis," said Donald at last, barely able to hold back
another flood.  "I'm glad I failed that essay, even though Father was
furious.  I hate him.  I hate him touching me.  He knows my father, you
see, and he was oh so terribly nice to me at first to suck up to Papa so he
can keep his job-I think there's something wrong with his degree and
something happened at his previous school.  He gave me good marks and
special help.  It was all right at first.  Then he started to?started
to?you know?"

"Feel you up?" suggested Stephen looking intently at him, now with his arm
around him as they sat on the edge of the bed.  Donald nodded.

"Did he do anything else?" asked Martin.  Donald couldn't look at him but
nodded again.

Presently he continued, "That swine forced me to suck him.  I have to do it
most nights after school because now he says he will tell my father.  He
hurts me too, Stephen."  He hugged Stephen again.  "You stood up to him.
He's scared of you.  I'm so glad you sit next to me in class.  I have no
friends in the whole school."

Donald managed a sorrowful glance at Martin who joined in the hug. "Well,
from now on you are to be with me or Tennant or Newell at all times and
you're not to be alone with Mingis," said Stephen.  "He won't tell your
father.  He'll be desperate for you not to talk because he'll be as
frightened as hell of going to gaol."

Soon Donald brightened up and, with the application of a cloth and some
cold water from the jug, Stephen and Martin had him cleaned up, and with
their excuses concocted they went down to join the party the Red Drawing
Room.

There were card tables set out and the older ones were playing auction
bridge while the younger ones were playing some silly card game that Mrs
Sachs knew that involved making animal noises and adopting unusual stances.
There was much laugher from that end of the room.  At ten, tea was brought
in and the magnificent silver kettle had the spirit lamp lit underneath it.
Miss Webster favoured them at the piano with a sentimental song as, when
pressed, she just happened to have her music with her.  Stephen stood close
to her and turned the pages when she nodded, Martin being momentarily left
in charge of Donald who was much brighter after the card game.

Mrs Sachs offered a comic piece and she played very well.  All of a sudden
Donald asked if he might play.  They all looked surprised and he blushed.
Nevertheless he manfully went to the piano and sat down and commenced to
play the most marvellous ragtime piece called The Cake Walk.  Everyone
applauded and he smiled.  Then he asked Mrs Sachs if she would play the
easy part, which he showed her, while he played the other two hands of
another rag called The Oceana Roll.  This was a wild success.  Martin was
much struck by the freshness and irreverence of the piece that seemed to
be, somehow, the very essence of that great and mysterious nation across
the Atlantic; a country that had produced The Plunger and the Bike jockey's
strap, he reflected.  Soon everyone was singing it and even the servants
could be observed moving in time to the infectious rhythm and mouthing the
catchy lyrics.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=p6ZR1Ywjs6I

The guests departed or retired to their rooms with the conviction that it
had been a fine evening and that they had enjoyed themselves.  The Plunger
was asked if he was comfortable and if Michael was attending to his
needs. "Attending and anticipating, Poole," said the Plunger, fitting his
monocle and giving a little grin.

Donald could not be detached from his hero and Stephen looked at Martin.
"Donald, don't you want to sleep by yourself tonight?" asked Stephen.
Donald didn't look at him but shook his head.  "Well you could sleep with
me, except that Martin doesn't want to sleep by himself either."  Donald
looked up at him in growing astonishment.  "It might be a bit crowded, but
Martin's bed is enormous and I think there might be room for one more-just
for tonight."

Donald's eyes lit up and he hugged Stephen, then Martin and then Stephen
again.  They took him into their room.  "There is one rule though," said
Stephen, "I'm afraid all your clothes will have to come off before you get
into bed with me."

Martin and Stephen undressed first and Donald's eyes were on stalks as
Stephen first removed his shirt and collar to reveal his naked chest and
then slid down his evening trousers letting his enormous cock spring free.
"I though you must be big, Stephen, I can see it in your school trousers
when you sit next to me.  I always wanted to feel it under the desk," he
said, blushing at the remembrance.

"I wish you had.  Feel it now if you like."  Donald didn't have to be
pressed and he had a good feel and made admiring noises.  Martin was
feeling left out and stood closer and Donald felt him too.

"You know, I now hate doing anything to myself because of you know who.  He
used to tie up my hands and feet sometimes and hit me here," he said,
indicating his privates.

"That's terrible," said Stephen.  "We'll not hurt you.  You can just cuddle
up to us and feel safe.  I promise you, Mingis will never hurt you again.
You have my word."

Martin thought his heart would break.  He had never loved Stephen more than
this moment when his true character was on display: strong and yet kind.
'He is everything a man should be,' he thought to himself.

Donald was allowed to undress himself and they did not touch him for fear
of reviving the evil memories of Mingis.  Nevertheless, Donald was seen to
have a very nice uncut cock and a dark bush, but no other body hair.  While
his arms and legs were still juvenile, his shoulders were broad and it was
possible to see where his ability at tennis came from.  He also seemed to
be taller now that he was not so cowered.

They climbed into the big bed, Donald between his two protectors.  At first
he clung to Stephen, but then turned to Martin and placed his arm over his
chest.  Stephen spooned close and almost crushed him under his left arm and
Donald made sure that Stephen's hardening cock was captured between his
hairless thighs before he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

It was sometime just after dawn that Martin awoke to find Donald sucking
his cock. "I thought you might like to wake up like this, you were very
hard," he said pausing for a minute. "I hope you don't mind."

"Thank you, that feels wonderful," he replied and indeed it did.  Martin
lay back with his hands clasped behind his head on the pillow.  The noise
stirred Stephen who felt for Donald in the bed and realised he had gone.
When he opened his eyes he sat up in astonishment.  "I thought you said you
hated it," he said.

"No, I hated being forced to do it by Mingis, and I didn't say I wasn't any
good at it.  Lots of practice," he said with a grin.  Martin warmed to
Donald, not just because he was sucking his cock so well, but because
Donald's personality was coming out.  He was funny-and a good cocksucker.

Stephen watched in fascination.  Donald could take Martin deep without
gagging and you could see his throat swell when Martin's cock went in.  He
also pressed Martin's cock into his cheek, which seemed to delight Martin
judging from the groans-perhaps too much.

Stephen had lust in eyes and he uncovered his cock.  "You were hard all
night," said Donald pausing again but now stroking Martin's sopping member.
"I want to suck you so much Stephen, but I don't think I could get my mouth
around it."

"Could you try?" pleaded Stephen then, looking at Martin, said slowly and
carefully, "but Donald, Martin is my sweetheart you must know and I
wouldn't do anything without asking Martin if it was alright first.'

Martin rolled his eyes at this bit of disingenuousness, quite certain that
this puppy had a crush on his lover, 'But who could blame him?' he thought.
"Yes, suck him Donald, but do me too, I'm very close."

Donald kept one hand going on Martin's cock while he crawled over on his
knees towards Stephen who was holding is leaking cock in expectation. "I'll
do my best Stephen, I really want to.  Hold it still."

Without using his hands he opened as wide as he could and took Stephen's
member into his mouth where he wet and stimulated just the head.  He
touched his teeth ever so slightly on the silky foreskin.  Donald still
kept stroking Martin but was now concentrating on this other task intently.
He twisted his head and swallowed Stephen down, down into his throat and
when he was in deep, Donald manipulated his throat muscles to stimulate
Stephen's cock.  He could not keep this up for more than half a minute and
then withdrew completely.

Stephen was almost speechless, his eyes were shining and his mouth was
agape. "Where did you learn to that? It was amazing!"

"I have a book on sword swallowing by Chevalier Cliquot.  It's just
practice," he relied simply.

"Huskison major's book!" cried Martin to Stephen.

"But my throat is sore; can I just use my hands now?"

Martin and Stephen moved together, their arms around each other's
shoulders, as Donald continued to pleasure them, occasionally using his
mouth to lubricate the boys when they were becoming dry.  Martin was close
and Donald held his grip as Martin thrashed about and then spilled on his
hand.  Both boys now turned their attention to Stephen.  Martin held
Stephen's hands down so he could not interfere with Donald's work and
kissed Stephen and teased his nipples. "I'm close," said Stephen breathily
and Donald worked his wrist harder.  "Use both hands now," cried Stephen,
My balls, Mala!"

Martin released Stephen's hands and pulled at Stephen's testicles,
stretching them painfully, but knowing he could take it.  With a shout he
spilled, a shot hitting Donald in the eye where it stung and another shot
landing on Martin who was still tugging. "Get it all out, Donald," said
Martin and he continued until Stephen cried to stop, as it was now too
sensitive.

They flopped back on the bed, breathing heavily.  "But what about you,
Donald?  You've not spent yet," said Stephen.

"Sorry, Martin," he said, "but I have?er...spent; it was so nice snuggled
up next to you last night that I?well I?" Martin felt behind him.  Yes, he
was crusty back there.  He smiled at Donald. "That feels good," he lied,
"as long as you enjoyed yourself."  He let Donald kiss Stephen, then pulled
Stephen over to himself and kissed him extravagantly, running his fingers
through his spilled seed.  "You can borrow him, but this big one's mine,
Donald, I'm afraid.  I saw him first.  You better get back to your room
before the servants are up."

Donald left only slightly disappointed and Martin and Stephen were sound
asleep in each other's arms when Chilvers came in with their tea and drew
the curtains.

Breakfast was laid in the small, yellow hexagonal room built a century
earlier.  It had plenty of windows facing east and the woodwork was painted
white so it was a cheerful space, although the morning was grey.  On the
sideboard were chafing dishes containing the usual English fare: bacon,
devilled kidneys, sausages, eggs and kedgeree; and the guests served
themselves.  Everyone had apparently slept well and none in the south
corridor had been disturbed by the ghost that some sensitive souls had
reported over the centuries.  The guests decided upon riding and tennis, if
the weather improved.  The ladies accompanied Martin and The Plunger to
church where The Plunger was allowed to poke the fire in the family pew.
Mrs Sachs preferred to rest in the morning room where she occupied herself
with knitting baby clothes while humming the Oceana Roll to herself.  Sachs
asked if he might come to church, for while not a Christian, he was not a
particularly observant Jew either but did love the sound of the church
organ.  Antony Vane-Gillingham went down to the stables to organise some
mounts for the party and Stephen and Donald explored the library.

Mr Kells was nowhere to be found and the boys roamed the galleries and
shelves unmolested, pulling out books that had interesting bindings or
strange titles.  Most of the works, while beautiful to look at, held very
little interest to the twentieth century mind, but Stephen and Donald
marvelled at all those Pooles down the centuries who had accumulated this
staggering collection.  "I say, Don, you won't mention my 'sweetheart' to
the other chaps, will you?" asked Stephen.

"Of course not," said Donald, a little hurt, "we're friends.  And you're
not going to mention my 'sword swallowing' are you?"

"No, of course not.  And I meant what I said about sticking with Chris and
Julian.  We won't let Mingis get near you; I'll tell them what a beast he's
been, if that's all right."

"Just don't tell them everything, will you?"

Stephen nodded.

Horses were found for all those who wished to ride and they set off through
the village.  When they were passing his cottage Stephen said quietly to
Donald that that's where he lived.  They headed in the direction of
Pendleton, taking a short cut across the downs where the horses could
gallop.  Then they were back on a path through a wood where Miss
Vane-Gillingham dropped back to trot alongside Stephen.

"You're not really from Western Australia at all, are you Mr Knight?" she
said, smiling.

"I'm sorry Miss Vane-Gillingham I lied to you-well-to everybody, I hope
you'll forgive me.  In fact this is where I'm from and when I met you that
was my first time in London and my first time in evening clothes.  I was
terrified.  I do apologise.  Please say you will forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive.  Evening clothes suit you very well and your
background only makes you more interesting.  My friend, Mrs Buckweet, still
mentions you from time to time.  You made quite an impression."

"How is she?"

"Oh, I think she finds it tiresome living in the Brompton Road on the
Piccadilly Line.  We both hope that we will see more of you when you come
up to London, Mr Knight."

"I hope so too.  I have already enrolled in dancing lessons in Blandford
Forum, you will be relieved to know, so I won't crush the ladies."

"Oh Mr Knight, but you crush them already," she said with a smile and then
she cantered up to Miss Webster who was calling her.

At Pendleton they stopped at the inn and the publican had drinks brought
outside so that the ladies would not have to enter the taproom.  They
returned in time to change for lunch, which Chilvers and Mrs Capstick had
arranged beautifully in the little-used Spanish Dining Room, which was
designed by Barry using Venetian tooled leather for the walls and enlivened
with gilding.  The ceiling was copied from the Ca' Pisani in Venice and on
the walls hung paintings by Velasquez and Zurbaran.  The Plunger was
particularly impressed and regretted his defection from Rome.

There was no soup, but the party, which had been supplemented by the
Destrombes and Miss Tadrew began with oysters ? la Russe followed by
chicken Lyonaisse.  The roast was lamb with mint sauce.  A foes gras was
followed by Waldorf pudding.  At one point Martin caught the attention of
the party and rose in his place.  "On behalf of my brother, I have an
announcement to make."  The guest looked expectantly at him.  "William has
expressed a wish to adopt my friend, Mr Knight, as his ward and Stephen has
done our family the great honour of accepting the offer.  Might I add that
he did so, if I might say, Stephen, only after much persuasion and
carefully considering those people such as his stepfather, Mr Knight, Miss
Tadrew and the late Miss Tapstowe who were very real parents to him.
Welcome to the Pooles, Stephen."  There was a general murmur of approval
and Antony Vane-Gillingham rose and shook Stephen's hand.  Miss Tadrew was
in tears and Stephen was comforting her while Aunt Maude came across and
kissed Stephen.  Then it became a race for the other ladies to kiss Stephen
as well.  When he arose his eyes were red-rimmed and he declined to say
anything at all.  Martin gave him a hug.

The tennis court was in use all the afternoon by those who were not
sleeping.  Donald was proving himself to be a good player and The Plunger
was his equal.  Tea was served on the terrace at 4 o'clock and Miss Webster
begged Stephen to walk her down to the lake so she could see the golden
carp, and the lawn being rather soft and steep, it necessitated her taking
Stephen's arm, which she did, saying that it was so strong that she now
felt perfectly steady.

There was another splendid dinner in the Gothic Dining Room and when the
ladies had withdrawn Sachs took Martin and Stephen aside and discussed
business matters.  He believed there was an American buyer for Scotland who
would take it furnished and the family's personal effects would be sent
south.  The sum asked was staggeringly large, thought Martin.  Sachs was
pleased that the largest portion of the money would be used for investment.
"I'd like a portion set aside for modernising the dairy farm," said
Stephen, "but not yet, I will have to see who will run it.  Tidpit is an
old man," he said to Martin, "but I am pinning my hope on his son."

"Are you ready for the first bathrooms, Stephen?" asked Sachs.

"Not quite.  I have to speak to Blake about getting builders- but soon."

"There would still be some thousands of pounds left," said Sachs, "what do
you propose to do with it?"

"I'd like to have the electric light at Croome," said Martin suddenly,
"Could we afford that?

Sachs and Stephen looked at each other in surprise.  "Possibly; we could do
part of the house at least.  We'd have to have a dynamo," said Stephen.
"That's very progressive of you, your lordship," he teased.  Martin
blushed.

"I also have another idea for the estate; it's to do with the horses."
Stephen continued.

"Oh don't tell me you want to replace them with tractors and motors?"
complained Martin.

"No, I want to have more horses.  O'Brien is an expert stud master.  Why
don't we breed horses, I don't mean racehorses, but working horses and
mules and sell them to the Army Remount, for example?"

"That might be a good idea, Martin," said Sachs.  "The Army is looking for
suppliers.  With all your projects, Mr Blake is going to need some
assistance.  Think about it."

They adjourned to the drawing room in an optimistic mood.  There were no
cards that night and Donald was begged to play something lively.  He
obliged with some more Turkey-trots and ragtime and there was dancing.  The
three girls vied with each other to teach Stephen the latest steps and
Stephen begged them not to squabble and made them draw lots.  The girls did
not seemed to mind his conceit and Martin, as usual, did much eye rolling.
Mrs Sachs took a turn and the girls danced with Donald as well as Martin,
Daniel and The Plunger.  It was one o'clock when they all went upstairs.

Stephen lay in bed with his arms behind his head. He didn't feel like
sleeping. "It was a good weekend, wasn't it, Mala?"

"Mmm" said Martin who was trying to sleep snuggled up to Stephen with his
nose in his armpits.

"We'll have a fine time up in town with The Plunger too, won't we?"

"Mmm"

"I'd like some of that ginger cock too"

"Mmm"

"It's nice here.  No Donald tonight."  Martin shifted a little and lazily
stroked Stephen's cock, half asleep.

"Mala, I am a bit worried.  I think I may have bitten off more than I can
chew.  Croome is a lot of responsibility.  I'm still at school.  I
sometimes wish your father were here or that William was?"

Martin sat up and opened his eyes. "What's the matter, Derbs?"

"Well there's the bathroom project, then there's the dairy.  I have this
idea for the stud farm and the golf links too.  Now you want the electric
light-which I think is marvellous.  I feel like my head will burst.  I'm
not even seventeen Mala.

"Stephen, I think you're wonderful.  You're more of a man than most adults
I know.  People follow you.  You're a born leader.  You know one of the
things about being from an old family-about being the lord of the manor-is
that you can't do everything yourself but you can get other people to do
things for you.  People will follow the lord if they have faith and respect
him.  You have to pick your lieutenants, of course.  Delegate, command,
Stephen, you will be able to get things done, you'll see.  I'll be beside
you and show you how we do it and there are others who love you too-but
none more than me."  Stephen had now put his arm around Martin.

"Command you say?  I should issue commands?"

"You don't even have to say it milord," said Martin. "I anticipate your
desires."



The guests departed on Monday morning and the three boys and Chilvers found
themselves on the train to London.  Martin, in a burst of democracy,
insisted that Chilvers travel with them in the first-class carriage and the
servant was trying to read The Duke in the Suburbs by Edgar Wallace but was
continually being interrupted by the excited boys.

"If we have Branksome House opened up more, Chilvers, we will have to have
more staff, won't we?"

"Yes, you lordship," he said, finally closing the volume.

"Do you think Michael could be trained as a butler and could be sent up?"

"I don't think that would be possible, your lordship.  He is engaged to be
married to one of the maids-to Daisy, milord."

"Michael?" chorused all three in surprise.

"Yes, sir, Michael; it happened shortly after Daisy's aunt died and left
her a boarding house in Whitby and I believe they will be wed and departed
for Yorkshire within the next few months."  The three boys exchanged
surprised looks.

"Will we manage without them?" Asked Martin.

"Oh yes, milord, quite easily, even with Rose and Lily leaving.  And if we
are to go over to the electric light," he said lifting an eyebrow, "I'm
afraid I heard your lordship discussing it this morning-then we will not
need Sarah and Enid whose main work is filling and trimming the lamps, your
lordship.  There is William however.  When he recovers fully I believe he
will make an excellent valet and maybe even an under butler."

"But I suppose he will go off and get married too," put in Stephen.

"Oh no sir, I don't think there will be any danger of William forming such
an attachment sir," he said, with his eyebrow cocked again."

To be continued?

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

Just send them to farmboy5674@yahoo.com and please put N O B in the subject
line.