Chapter Text
In the court room, Will Graham mentally escaped into a vision of fishing while standing in the middle of a flowing stream while the judge scolded him for wandering around in his underwear in the middle of the night in the streets, smelling of liquor. After a lengthy lecture regarding hooliganism and debauchery, the judge fined him a grand sum of five pounds for that most heinous crime. Will knew it would do no good to point out that he had spent the night drinking by himself in his own apartment and his being out of doors was only due to his unfortunate habit of sleepwalking.
Once he had returned home, he still had a rather vile hangover and was wondering whether he should sleep it off or attempt to curb the edges of it with a bit of hair of the dog when the doorbell rang. The insistence and the loudness of the bell only served to make him feel more surly than usual. He opened the door to see an older man, well groomed and smartly dressed with a severe expression. “I want sent by your uncle Jack Crawford. I was informed that you were in need of a valet. May I come in?”
“I have told my uncle a million times that I’m perfectly able to take care of myself.”
“I am sure that is true as long as you are awake.”
That remark only made Will scowl. “I’ll just tie myself to the bed next time.”
“It would seem that you have a hangover. I could make something that would help with that if you let me in.” Seeing Will’s hesitation, he added, “I will leave for good if it doesn’t.”
Will stepped back to make room for this man. The man strode confidently into the apartment that Will lived in and went to the kitchen where he quickly made a drink out of various ingredients before handing it to him.
Will looked at the concoction dubiously. After he drank it, however, the pain in his head miraculously disappeared. “What’s in this?”
“I prefer to keep my counsel regarding the recipe. If you are in the mood for breakfast, I can easily make you some scrambled eggs and toast.”
“Sure.”
***
“Wilberforce Graham,” said Uncle Jack as he sat across Will at his dining table in his mansion. “You must get married.”
“Who would take me?” said Will.
“You are not ugly and you have money. We can find someone.“ Jack waved away his concerns. “You need someone to be your bedrock, strong and reliable. Someone to make up for your . . .”
“Make up for my what?” snapped Will. He was well aware of his various faults and did not like to be reminded of them.
“Do not take that tone of voice with me. Besides, I have someone in mind.”
“You have already tried engaging me to a countless number of people, many of whom have turned out to be insane.” Will was not exaggerating much on this point. Jack had done him the grave disservice of introducing him to a long line of eccentrics as possible marriage candidates. They ranged from a man utterly obsessed with hunting deer, another man with an uncontrollable religious mania, and a lady who insisted on inflicting everybody around her the dubious results of her beekeeping and lessons in acupuncture. And if anything, he was sure to introduce him to an even longer line of even more perverse candidates.
Jack brushed off his criticism. “I assure you that the next one will match you perfectly.”
“Also what is the big idea of sending me a valet?”
“Oh, you mean Hannibal Lecter? You are very lucky to get him. He has the most impeccable references.”
“Then why didn’t his previous employer keep him?”
“It was a tragedy. His last employer died in an accident, thus causing his valet to be back on the market. There was quite a bidding war.”
Will raised an eyebrow.
***
“Is anything the matter, sir?” said Hannibal as he drew Will’s bath.
“My uncle wants me to marry someone, continue the family line. Unfortunately, his record as a matchmaker is horribly lacking.” Will stripped off his clothes and stepped into the warm water.
“I see.”
“Truth is that I wouldn’t mind settling down and having a family but not with any of the ones he had in mind.”
“Have you done your own search?”
“The ones I was interested in . . . the feelings were never mutual.” Will sniffed the bath water. “What did you put into my bath?”
“You don’t like the smell, sir?”
“It’s not a bad smell. It’s chamomile?”
“Yes, sir. It‘s aromatherapy, meant to help you relax. Your previous valet did not do this for you?”
“I’ve never really had a valet before,” said Will.
“I see. If you like, I could scrub your back.”
Will shook his head. “That won’t be necessary.”
“As you wish, sir. Though I highly recommend it.”