Date: Fri, 15 Jan 2016 20:06:44 -0500
From: Pete Bruno <farmboy7456@gmail.com>
Subject: Noblesse Oblige Book Two Chapter 1

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Noblesse Oblige
by Henry H. Hilliard

with Pete Bruno
Book Two
An Indian Summer
Chapter 1
The Old Order Changeth


Martin looked out at the obscene clothes pegs that lined the achingly
familiar road beneath the elm leaves that led through the park and down to
the little grey church with its square tower that anchored the village of
Branksome-le-Bourne as a pin anchors a butterfly in a collection.  They
were mostly black clothes pegs, with just a flash here and there of a white
shirt or petticoat, and they seemed shockingly out of place on this
summer's day.  The pegs were of different sizes; some were upright
household servants, others were broad farmers and others gnarled labourers;
some were stout women; the little ones were children.  The whole population
of the estate had come to silently line the route from the house to the
church down which would pass the hearse bearing the remains of Martin's
father, just as they had only four years before lined up for Martin's
mother.

In the Daimler, crawling in its wake, would sit the new Marquess of
Branksome, William Charles Alfred Friedrich Poole and his younger brother
and heir presumptive, Lord Martin Poole.  Opposite would be Lord Alfred
Poole, Martin's bachelor uncle, late of Rajpipla in India who happened to
be on his way to England at the time of the accident.  In one of the six
carriages in the cortege would sit Martin's lover, Stephen Knight, who had
been so helpful over the past ten days as well as Archibald Craigth
(otherwise known as The Plunger), Martin's school chum, and Dr Alexander,
who had personally come up from the Bournemouth nursing home with the ill
and doomed new Lord Branksome.

It was a dreadful day and one that had to be got through.  Beyond this
loomed a memorial service at the Abbey where the new King and Queen would
be joined by peers of the realm and important national figures.

In the church, Stephen, at Martin's insistence, sat in the family pew.
There was no cheerful fire to poke on this occasion.

Ten days before they had been stunned by the news of the accident on the
Chemin de Fer du Sud.  It was apparently caused by a local train not having
cleared the points for the express to pass and five people had been killed:
the driver of the express, a passenger in the stationary local and three
others, including Lord Branksome, who had died instantly.  His valet,
William, had two broken legs but was alive and recuperating at Croome,
having come home with his master's body.

It was Stephen who proved his worth in the crisis.  He comforted the
stunned and distraught Martin and did his best with William.  He enlisted
the help of Dr Alexander and telegraphed the news to Croome where Mr
Destrombe, the vicar, Blake, the estate manager, and Chilvers, the butler,
broke the news to their respective constituencies.  He next asked Viscount
Delvees, Martin's godfather, for help and the Viscount came directly to
Bournemouth accompanied by Sir Danvers Smith K.C., the principal of a
well-known firm of solicitors in Kings Bench Walk who had acted for the
Poole family over the years.

Sir Danvers immediately dispatched people to France to bring back the
remains of Lord Branksome and the broken body of his valet.  Stephen
quietly explained about the ring and suggested that William might be able
to help in its recovery and got them to organise the removal of all the
late Marquess' possessions from the Villa Elonore-Louise and to recover all
the documents and letters they could.  The venerable solicitor listened
intently and was impressed by the young man's clear headedness and agreed
with this course of action.  It was the Viscount who took charge of the
funeral arrangements.

On the fourth day of their return to England, Stephen, with his lordship's
permission, organised another meeting of the five of them in William's
room.  It was Martin who explained the compromising situation that his late
father had entangled himself in with La Belle Otero, including his
investment in the Carlton Hotel Company, the gifts of jewellery -and
possibly of money- to that lady and the position resulting from any
promises of marriage that might have been undertaken.  The situation was
delicate, but Martin told it as plainly as he could.  Sir Danvers promised
to investigate and then Lord Delvees suggested that there needed to be a
proper review of the finances of Croome at some date following the reading
of the will.

These practical matters were played out against the background of Martin
and William's grief.  Martin was worried about how William's health would
stand up to the strain.  His liver was affected by the disease and Martin
and Stephen were not sure whether it was simply weakness or from some other
cause that saw William occasionally break off in mid-sentence and stare
into space and more than once utter words that were gibberish, until he
recovered himself.

At night in their bedroom at Stewart's Hotel (now grandly renamed the
Norfolk Royale) Stephen spent hours just holding Martin and quietly talking
or listening as Martin recalled some amusing incident or peccadillo of his
father's and then would weep at the pain that the remembrance engendered.

It was while sitting with William that they received another shock.  They
had been talking about who would succeed after William was gone if Martin
died without issue.  The next in line would be a distant second or third
cousin from one of his grandfather's younger brothers and William and
Stephen were just recalling this Philip Rous-Pool when suddenly William
said, "Our father was very desperate for me to marry and have an heir, as
you know."  Martin nodded in the sad knowledge that he was in the same
position; being an invert like his brother and that it would have only been
a matter of time before his father thought the same way about him too.
"Papa tried to make me love women-thought that he could change me-but it
was useless.  I didn't like women or girls in that way.  It was Papa who
made me go to a certain brothel in Cleveland Street in the West End where
he introduced me to the daughter of the madam.  Pretty girl.  But it was no
good-I still didn't want to fuck women even after being with her once a
week for two months.  All I got was confirmation that God made me this way
and the syphilis of course."

"You contracted syphilis from a woman?  From a woman that our father made
you sleep with?" cried Martin.  William nodded and Martin threw himself on
his brother and wept.

"He was terribly guilty when he found out, of course.  Blamed himself, but
also still blamed me for being this way too," continued William, "I don't
think he would have tried that with you, but you know, Martin, with Father
gone now you'll never have to go through what I did.  You'll never
disappoint him like I did."  Martin raised his tear stained face and,
sniffing, tried to digest all that he had said.  William wiped the boy's
eyes with the corner of his dressing gown.

"However," said William with a half-smile, "it would be very convenient if
you could produce a baby, Martin.  Do you think that Stephen might try very
hard to see if he can get you with child?  Stephen, are you ready for
fatherhood and do you think you could move the screen across the doors in
case we are disturbed?"

And with that Martin's tears of sadness were replaced with tears from
another cause as Stephen was stripped off and set to work ploughing Martin
deep and hard, spending his seed deep inside his lover to the delight of
William.

"You might have to try that a number of times, Stephen" said Martin with a
watery smile.  "It doesn't always work the first time."  And Stephen
promised to try later that night and in the morning too.



*****



The boys' father was laid to rest in the churchyard next to his wife.  The
guests had all departed and Chilvers was bringing the boys their early tea,
as was the custom.  He said: "Excuse me your lordship, but the memorial
service is on Friday."  Martin put down his post and looked at Chilvers and
nodded.  "I think it would be advisable to open up Branksome House as there
will be a great many guests, such as your uncle and Mr Craigth, the
Plainsongs and others, sir.  As your brother, the new Lord Branksome, will
not be attending, you will be chief mourner, sir.  Lord Delvees informs me
that Their Majesties will be attending."  Martin nodded again.  "I could
send instructions for the house to be made ready this morning and send up
staff from here on the afternoon train.  Then might I suggest that Mr
Stephen and I go up tomorrow afternoon to make the final arrangements?
Your lordship could follow on Thursday evening after you have met with Sir
Danvers and his lordship in Bournemouth."

"Will I get to meet the King and Queen?" asked Stephen.

"I don't know," replied Martin. "Could Mr Stephen sit next to me in the
Abbey, Chilvers?"

"I don't really know the protocol, your lordship; you'd best ask Sir
Danvers about your 'secretary', sir," said Chilvers.  "It would be very
nice for him to be able to say he'd had the honour."

"What shall I wear to meet the King?" cried Stephen as he leapt naked from
the bed in his excitement and rushed to the wardrobe, his cock at its usual
morning hardness.

"Mr Stephen!" cried Chilvers.  "You will wear your mourning clothes of
course and I might suggest the dark blue silk drawers.  You will look very
presentable to Their Majesties in the dark blue silk drawers, I believe,
sir," opined the butler mysteriously.



Stephen and Chilvers shared an empty second-class carriage to Waterloo.
Stephen got Chilvers to talk about the London house and the old days when
it was in its glory-a comfortable topic it seemed.  Suddenly Stephen said,
"Mr Chilvers, you're awfully good about his lordship and me.  I very much
appreciate your tact and may I say your friendship?"

Chilvers gave a little bow.  "I hope I am able to be of service to his
lordship and his friend," and here he paused, "and?ahem? sir, there was a
young footman when I was at Matching in 1890?" he said with an air of
wistfulness.

Branksome House stood in busy Piccadilly and was a larger version of
Lowndes Square, but with a central entrance and an additional floor.  The
dining room was on the ground floor and the double drawing room was on the
first floor.  A very large landing off the double-height hall served as a
ballroom and there were two floors of bedrooms and an attic housing
servants' cribs; the kitchen was, as in most London houses, in the
basement, which was reached from the street by stairs down to an 'area'.
The panelling in the principle rooms was pleasant, far nicer than the
dining room at Croome, but the furnishings were very old fashioned.

After Chilvers had introduced Stephen to the housekeeper, Mrs Smith, who,
with her husband, a cook and four maids maintained the house in its
hibernation, he took Stephen upstairs and discussed the allocation of
bedrooms for the guests.  Stephen selected two bedrooms on the second floor
above the ground floor for himself and Martin.  They were not the grandest
rooms, but had connecting doors and a pleasant view over Green Park where
the flagpole on Buckingham Palace indicated that their majesties were in
residence.  Archie was placed next door and Uncle Alfred in a fine room on
the floor below, with the visitors from Croome disposed over the remaining
rooms.

A conference was held and the number of meals, their menus and transport to
the Abbey were organised.  Stephen and Chilvers went on a tour of the old
house with a book and pencil and made a note of things that should be put
to rights.  Stephen ate that night in the servants' hall, now crowded with
the staff from Croome, and went out by himself to the Hippodrome where he
enjoyed looking at the boys but missed Martin terribly.

Martin arrived with Uncle Alfred and some of the Croome party and was
impressed by the presentation of Branksome House.  Being in mourning, he
did not feel right about seeing a show, so after a very fine dinner where
Chilvers' skills were on display, Martin was soon in bed with Stephen.  He
was aching for Stephen but felt guilty for thinking of his own pleasure
when he should be in mourning.  Stephen would have none of this false
sentiment so got out of bed and returned with two black armbands, which he
placed on their naked left arms.  Martin was shocked, but laughed when he
realised how ridiculous he was being.  Stephen wrapped his arms around
Martin and kissed him, his tongue entering Martin's mouth with urgency.
"Fuck me, Martin; I want to feel your thickness in me."

Stephen laid spread eagle and parted his buttocks revealing the soft, clean
hair that glistened in the lamplight.  Martin knelt between his strong legs
and licked and kissed the back of his hairy thighs, gradually moving up to
Stephen's waiting crack.  Eventually he lathed the cleavage and probed
Stephen's tight hole.  "Get the oil and put your fingers inside me,"
breathed Stephen.

When Martin returned with the bottle, Stephen had raised himself onto his
knees and was leaning on his elbows.  Martin could see his hard and arching
cock leaking clear fluid and used his finger to touch just the tip to
gather some for him to taste.  "Let me taste," said Stephen.  Martin ran
his finger across Stephen's lips.

"I don't want you to touch yourself," said Martin. "I want to be the one to
make you spend."

"I don't know if I can, Mala," said Stephen.

"Try for me, Derby, I need to know if I can do it to you."

Martin started off with his oiled fingers and soon had Stephen opened up.
"Stretch me," groaned Stephen and reached back and attempted to make Martin
put three fingers together.  Then he reached for his aching cock and Martin
knocked his hand away.  Stephen groaned again.  Martin then entered
Stephen's hungry hole with his blond cock with its thick helmet-shaped
head.  It slid in.  When he felt Stephen relax he began to slide in and
out, increasing the pace.  Then he changed to pushing right in with his
hips, with his arms at first grasping Stephen's shoulders, then clasping
him in a bear hug and flexing only his hips and grinding his crotch in a
circular motion when at full penetration.  By pulling back on Stephen's
torso, with each powerful thrust Stephen's aching cock was slapped
repeatedly against his belly and all this stimulation brought him to a
climax.  With a grunt he spent in a long stream onto the pillow and sheets.

Martin was not done yet and continued to pound Stephen's aching hole, with
his hands now clasped together under Stephen's chin until he too spilled
deep inside the lad, the excitement of which causing Stephen to bite down
hard on Martin's right hand.

"Ow!" cried Martin and he suddenly and painfully withdrew from Stephen's
tender hole and sucked the blood on his own hand.

"Ow!" cried Stephen as he felt his ravaged hole.  "I say, I'm most awfully
sorry, Mala, let me look."  His hand had a large cut that was bleeding.

Stephen got a clean handkerchief and told Martin to press on the wound.  He
pulled on some trousers and went to the bathroom where he found some iodine
and some gauze.  Martin's hand was bandaged and Stephen kept apologising,
but Martin said it was all right and kissed Stephen.

"I needed you tonight.  Thank you, Derby



*****

There was a large crowd at the Abbey, but it was nowhere near full.
Stephen, who was very nervous, sat with Martin in the same pew as Uncle
Alfred, Lord Delvees and the Viscountess, Aunt Maude and her children,
Anthony and Sophia Vane-Gillingham.  "We're a small family," observed
Martin to his godfather.

There were many important personages in the congregation and lords
spiritual and temporal were ten a penny.  Presently there was a stir and he
crowd stood as the King and Queen walked down the aisle and sat on the
opposite side, no one daring to look sideways.

The service began and the hymns were those selected by the Dean, the
Organist and Viscount Delvees.  The archbishop himself conducted part of
the service, which was very impressive.

At the conclusion, Martin realised that he hadn't thought of his father at
all over the last hour and was surprised and pained at this filial
betrayal.  They all stood and the King and Queen moved over to Martin who
bowed and shook the King's hand.

"Your father was a fine man, young fellah and his death is a terrible
tragedy," said the King.  "I'm very sorry that your brother could not come.
May and I came twice to Croome to shoot when you were but a pup, my boy."

He moved on to Stephen who shook hands and bowed correctly.  The King,
looking up, said simply, "I'm so sorry for your loss young man."

Stephen found voice and managed, "Thank you, your Majesty."

Queen Mary saw Martin's bandaged hand and said, "Lord Martin, were you
injured when you were coming home with your poor father?  I had no idea."

"No, your Majesty, this injury was caused after I had come," replied Martin
who had to bite the inside of his lip to control himself.



Sir Danvers Smith and Viscount Delvees and their wives dined at Branksome
House that evening.  It was a fairly subdued meal.  Uncle Alfred talked
about his late brother and of their parents.  Martin told him of meeting
his cousin Friedrich in Cannes and the talk drifted to the German side of
the family and then, by way of Thomas Cook & Son, went on to India where
Uncle Alfred was in his element telling tales of the Raj.

After the ladies withdrew the stories grew a little more racy, which bored
the boys, but caused the older men to chortle.

Presently Sir Danvers asked Martin if he was free to call on him in his
chambers in Kings Bench Walk on the next afternoon and that Mr Knight would
also be welcome, if it were convenient.  The boys agreed.  There was no
auction bridge when they joined the ladies in the drawing room because they
were in mourning, but Uncle Alfred felt no such restraint when it came to
telling more stories about India, but they were far from racy ones and
mainly concerned the preparation for the great Durbar to be held the
following year for the King-Emperor's Coronation.

Stephen was fascinated by the quaint location called The Inns of Court in
which the legal profession dwelt.  Sir Danvers was pleased to see the young
lord and his friend but Martin felt uneasy, crossing and recrossing his
legs and fidgeting with his hat and stick, fearing Sir Danvers held bad
news.  The workings of the law were a mystery to him, although he knew he
would one day have to sit on the bench at Croome as a J.P. Sir Danvers
sensed the young man's unease and smiled kindly.

"There will be a reading of your late father's will next week after probate
has been obtained.  I do not be believe you should be concerned, Lord
Martin, as your father's will is the same one he made after your mother
died four years ago and I wouldn't expect anything untoward."  Martin
relaxed a little.  "I have heard nothing from France about any difficulties
that might have arisen in that quarter.  We have recovered your
grandmother's ring and are still engaged in going through your late
father's papers.  The lady in question, I believe, has transferred herself
and her- ahem-affections to their Royal Highnesses Grand Dukes Peter and
Paul in the Principality of Monaco."

"The Oteros did send a wreath and a card to the funeral, Stephen,"
volunteered Martin.

"There will also be the matters of your father's life insurance and any
actions we might take against the French railway company," continued the
K.C.  "I was hoping we could discuss these at Bournemouth next week.  More
importantly, your lordship, after talking with your godfather, I do think
you and your brother should think seriously about looking at your financial
situation and the future of Croome and, if I may be so bold, I would like
to suggest a financial advisor that I hold in high regard."

Martin and Stephen looked intently at Sir Danvers.  "He is only a young
man, milord- the same age as your brother- and that might be an asset in
itself.  However he has had a great deal of experience already: he began at
nineteen at Couttes Bank and then worked for Sir Ernest Cassel.  He has set
up on his own account and continues to work for Sir Ernest and also others
such as Sir Thomas Lipton and possibly even those in the highest circles,
although he has never said so himself.  He is intelligent and discreet.  He
is also a very personable young man."

"I will take your advice very seriously, Sir Danvers, and discuss it with
my brother as well as with Mr Knight and my godfather.  I would like to
meet him," said Martin.

"I was hoping you would say that, sir, because he is outside at this very
moment.  I will have him brought in," said Sir Danvers.

Daniel Sachs was a strikingly handsome young man of middle height and
couldn't look less like a City type; he was almost a 'swell'.  He carried a
soft hat and stick and there wasn't an umbrella, watch chain or attach?
case in sight.  He had a beautiful face with sad brown eyes in repose, but
they smiled when he was animated.  He had a fine head of wavy black hair
that was as immaculate as the orchid in his buttonhole.  Stephen saw the
look of approval on Martin's face and wondered what sort of bulge Mr Sachs
had in his trousers, which were, unfortunately, at this juncture concealed,
beneath his frockcoat.

Daniel Sachs explained that his services were not inexpensive, but said
that he felt certain that if the estate had funds to invest he would do his
best to secure a good return.  He also went on to assure Martin that it was
his policy to recommend a diverse range of investments and that he steered
his clients clear of speculative stocks, such as mining companies, unless
his clients particularly liked the thrill of gambling.

There and then Martin felt like he could trust him, but for the sake of
good form he thought he would speak to William first and discuss it with
Stephen, lest he be misled by Mr Sachs' beguiling appearance.

"If my brother agrees to consult you, Mr Sachs, would you be free to come
down to Bournemouth next week?  My brother, as you know, is an invalid and
we will be meeting at his nursing home."

"I am to sail on Sir Thomas Lipton's yacht at Cowes later in the week, so
it will be quite convenient anytime from Monday to Thursday, if you let me
know at your earliest convenience" replied Sachs with efficiency, combining
it with a smile and a bow.

"Excuse me for saying so, Mr Sachs, but you are quite young for someone who
is moving in circles of high finance," said Stephen as they rose to depart.

"I began my career at an early age, Mr Knight.  I wasn't even ten years old
when I had my own barrow down the Mile End Road.  An outcast in England and
a life of poverty in the East End is a hard school, but it can be a very
effective one, sir."



That evening Martin let it be known that they were going to call on Aunt
Maude but the boys actually went to a music hall.  "I know I'm supposed to
be in mourning," Martin said to Stephen, "but I need cheering up after the
seriousness of the past few days.  I'm not sure how I feel about father,
either.  I mean, after what he did to William and what he would have done
to me, I really don't know what to think, Derby."

"I know what you mean," replied Stephen, "and it would be only too easy for
me to say that your father really loved you-which I'm sure he did, Mala-and
that he just found it difficult to show his affection, but I know you're
going to have work that out for yourself and it's likely to take a long
time, maybe years, maybe the rest of your life.  How do we ever know?  All
we ever have is instinct I suppose."

Martin was silent for a time and swung his stick in thought. "And this
financial biz, Derbs, what do I know about investments?  Do you trust
Sachs?"

"I think I do, Mala, I mean he doesn't look like a proper financier and if
he was a crook he'd try and look like Lord Baring or someone," laughed
Stephen.  "You will have to rely on William and your godfather as you have
no one else except, you know you can rely on me, Mala; I will be there
beside you, if you want me to be."

"More than I can ever tell you, Derby.  I love you and I need you.  I won't
worry if you're beside me-or I'll try not to.  Can we be together for a
long, long time-I mean, what if you meet someone else, a nice girl?"

"What if you do?"

"I don't want a nice girl, I want you."

"I bain't no nice lass I tole you tha'," said Stephen in his West Country
accent, grinning.

"Aye, you bin t'very bad lad wurt nowt but trubble," said Martin returning
the smile.

They enjoyed the show and found themselves walking down Piccadilly laughing
and singing the song they had heard at The Pavilion:

"Re-mem-ber when I first came to town

Take a look at me now!"

And Stephen thought Miss Beth Tate's boast was also his own story.
Slightly drunk, they shushed each other somewhat ineffectively as they came
to the doors of Branksome House, two lads now propelled into an adult world
but fortified by their youth and by their love for each other.

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.