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He awoke to the first beams of sunlight tickling his face. He blinked, furrowed his brows and narrowed his eyes. With a tired hum, he rolled onto his back and his head to the side. And huffed. Instead of the man that had occupied the right side of his bed for forty-five years, he found an empty mattress and a blanket thrown back and left a mess. That again. He felt warm with sleep and fondness.
He rose, dressed himself in a robe and slippers, and grabbed his cane to search for his companion and additionally, a good breakfast to share with him.
Stepping out into the hallway, he was met with the usual bustle of the house. A maid crossed his path and curtsied before disappearing into his chamber. He exchanged a greeting with the valet on his way to his office to deposit the mail for later.
The house was alive. It had been for several decades now but still, on some mornings that reality stopped him in his tracks and held him spellbound for a moment. The manor is alive and so am I.
He reached the great stairs leading down to the entrance hall, which tastefully defined the building’s symmetry. Down there, the work continued, maids hurrying through the halls, one of them trailing after the gardener who was in a conversation with the butler and leaving footprints from her dirty shoes.
And amidst all stood a rather confused footman, patiently waiting for orders while posing as the perfect stumbling block. He was the estate’s newest member, a young man of around twenty, inexperienced and somewhat big-mouthed for choosing the Van Zieks residence as his very first place of practice after his training. Fresh faces made the house live on.
Barok bowed his head, slowly, almost solemnly. Good morning, Mr Elper.
Henry whirled around and practically folded at the waist. His colleagues followed his example more gracefully. Good morning, my lord!
From the first day on, Henry was always in awe, and in a bit of envy as well, before the old lord. Despite his advanced age that brought wrinkles to his face and gray to his long hair, forced him to a cane and extended rest, his frame was still astonishingly broad, his head held high at his towering height, and no matter the dress or occasion – an evening suit to the Royal Opera House or a morning robe to breakfast downstairs – Lord van Zieks carried himself with flawless, dignified elegance.
Speaking of, Henry noticed the absence at the lord's side. Oh, where did you leave Doctor Harebrayne? Is he not feeling well?
As response, Lord van Zieks's face crinkled with a smile.
That was another surprising trait. As the tales were told to Henry, Lord van Zieks seemed to have been a man to fear. Something fantastic about a Death Bringer, a curse that haunted his career as a prosecutor, that steeled him for combat and hardened his heart. Henry didn't have the courage to doubt that the old lord was capable of carving him with his saber, but after the initial fright of the first meeting, quickly dissolved by his courtesy and welcoming manner, Henry would always choose to gather his guts to defend his employer from those dark allegations of the past. In that sense, Lord van Zieks was indeed hardened, battle-battered steel yet not in the shape of a weapon, rather of an old furnace, trusty, warm and unbreakable.
Since I could not find him next to me this morning, I assume he must have run off at night in pursuit of some idea and fallen asleep at his desk again,
Lord van Zieks said, amused. Henry caught his delight.
What he had believed to be caused by senility was exactly the opposite, caused by an immortal brightness of mind: Doctor Harebrayne had retired decades ago (Henry had learned the man had had two steady professorial seats at two universities in two different countries in his lifetime) but no force could snuff out his flame of curiosity and scientific passion. Near frantically, he kept on chasing after the next discovery or breakthrough, sometimes even across borders.
Doctor Harebrayne was doubtlessly a strange fellow. That however integrated perfectly into the household which he, according to his station as the lord’s equal, was meant to lead; exactly what he chose not to do. Right from the start, Henry had concluded that the doctor was neither rich nor noble. He appeared to have no need for servants (except whenever there were boxes full of equipment and chemicals to be hauled from cellar to attic or another pair of hands had to hold his telescope while he adjusted the screws) and therefore, he felt no need for hierarchy as well.
Quite a few times more than once, he had eagerly invited Henry and his workmates to bear witness to his newest theory, invention or experiment and not only to have someone near to save the carpets from smut. Though he had no idea where that knowledge might become useful, Henry was proud to be Britain’s only footman to understand the deeper mechanics of physics.
I'll have a grain pillow prepared then!
Henry burst out, prepared to run off to duty, but quickly added, Just in case! If that's your wish.
Eager as always I see.
Lord van Zieks had censured him for disrupting the work routine before, but had commended him for his dedication in the same breath.
Henry was set on staying. He had landed this position out of pure luck and it would take a great lot of forces to rip it out of his grasp again – he was here thanks to the lord and doctor's goodwill, Henry wouldn't disappoint them.
He waited for a signal and when Lord van Zieks said, Go on, then,
Henry gave a sharp nod and was gone.
Barok had been right. When his knocks yielded no answer, he had taken the liberty to enter Albert's study. Just as expected, he found him sleeping there, however, instead of his cluttered desk, Albert had chosen the wing chair in the far right reading corner of the room. Surrounded by enormous bookshelves, blackboards and scattered papers fallen from the side table, he sat sunken into the thick green cushions, cuddling with an open book against his chest, head snuggled into the wings.
Barok spared a moment to take in the familiar sight he had fallen so helplessly in love with so many years ago. He was certain it would never cease to make his heart swell.
He approached him noiselessly, aside from the tapping of his cane, reminiscing about past occurrences where he found himself in the same situation though then troubled by restlessness and still physically capable of carrying Albert to bed. The nights had gotten calmer now; at least Barok's, it seemed.
Albert looked peaceful, if not even cozy, were it not for his upright position. His mouth hung slightly open and his spectacles dangled askew from his nose, one of its legs stuck between the chair and Albert's temple. Faintly, Barok could hear him snoring, something he deemed to be comforting at times.
He turned off the floor lamp behind the armchair and closed the pen Albert had left with his notebook on the side table – from his scribbles, Barok could gather it concerned the novel computers Albert was so fond of – and carefully slipped the book out of his arms. Albert stirred and Barok froze but other than curling up deeper into the cushions, Albert didn't seem to mind. With the pen, Barok marked the page and set the book aside. At last, he plucked the twisted glasses off.
Albert.
Barok ran his hand down Albert's soft, slack cheek and cupped it. Many more freckles and spots had settled beside the previous ones over time. Albert, wake up.
A pair of bright blue eyes opened and blinked at him. Oh... Hello, Barok.
Albert's voice was hoarse with sleep. Is everything alright?
Barok returned the bifocals and Albert adjusted them languidly. Quite alright, my dear. I merely came to retrieve you.
Yes… You're right, I should–
Albert's words were interrupted by a yawn. I should get back to bed, hm?
He rose but faltered as he straightened. His expression contorted and a hissed muttering about adding a bed to his study escaped his lips. Barok offered the arm not holding his cane and Albert took it gratefully. Observing how his face and posture relaxed, Barok assured that he needed no further help.
It’s morning, Albert. Though if you still need rest, I won't force you,
he spoke. I meant to call you to breakfast. Mr Elper even prepared a heated pillow for you.
Ah, Henry, that thoughtful lad,
Albert sighed and leaned against Barok’s shoulder. Barok buried his chin in Albert’s hair.
Right, it’s morning!
Albert jumped, suddenly attentive, and pulled away, cautious as not to send Barok's head into a sudden drop. Can you walk like this?
Albert tentatively put weight on his grip around Barok's arm and looked up to him. I can. Can you?
Barok inverted the question. Perfectly fine!
Albert replied. They shared a smile. Good. Shall we then?
One last time, simply to be sure, Henry sifted through the newspaper in hopes to find a new edition of one of the scientific magazines Doctor Harebrayne received and imported; due to the large variety, Henry hadn’t figured out their respective publication schedules yet. Even though it required nothing more than placing the paper on the table, it was one of Henry’s favorite tasks. The fire of curiosity mixed with almost childlike glee that lit up the doctor’s expression and the thanks he showered Henry with as if he’d written the journal himself never failed to stir up a bubbly feeling of satisfaction inside him.
However, that joy would not be granted to him this morning. A bit disappointed, Henry set down the newspaper on the free space on the dining table in between the sumptuous breakfast an invisible whirlwind of cooks and maids had prepared. The grain pillow he had requested lay ready as well. His colleagues were truly matchless.
Just then, the door swung open and arm in arm, the lord and the doctor entered, latter sporting a nightly flat dent in his mass of whitening curls. Good morning, sir!
Henry greeted and moved to hold open the entrance for them. I've heard you came up with a new hypothesis tonight?
With determination, Doctor Harebrayne pointed to the skies. Almost! Just a few more hours of reading into the subject,
he lifted his fingers off the lord's forearm as he counted, proper thesis formulation,
he continued with murmuring, perhaps even a model run,
and finally, proudly proclaimed, and the empirical phase can commence!
Lord van Zieks pulled back a chair for him. Are you planning to acquire one of these computer machines?
The doctor accepted the invitation, not entirely smoothly but the lord came to his aid. Oh no, Barok, they're – ah, thank you – they're far too big for our basement! I'd use the ones they have in the States!
Lord van Zieks huffed, his hand brushing along the doctor's shoulders as he seated himself next to him. Then it seems we have a destination for our next vacation.
Oh!
Doctor Harebrayne had noticed the grain pillow on the table. He turned to Henry standing in the doorway. Thank you, very mindful of you!
Henry clicked his heels together. You're welcome!
The lord and the doctor attended to their affairs, unfolding the newspaper, pouring tea and coffee, positioning the heated pillow with a content sigh.
Seeing that his work was done for now, Henry excused himself and made to leave when Doctor Harebrayne called for him. Mr Elper?
Mouth curled in worry, the doctor gestured to the man at his side. Would you be so kind and fetch him his glasses?
Indeed, the lord looked rather strained in the way he held the paper unnaturally close to his face and scowled at it with an intensity that made Henry pity the poor pages. Of course, sir.
Lord van Zieks let the newspaper sink. No need, Mr Elper. Doctor Harebrayne is too accommodating sometimes.
Henry knew he was not in a place to take sides but the creases around his eyes and brows being caused by his constant squinting seemed awfully logical to him.
Don't confuse the poor man now, Barok, and take a little care of yourself,
the doctor scolded though as he put his hand on the lord's, who in return twisted his own to hold it in his palm, it could hardly be considered a reprimand.
Lord van Zieks sent him a smile. His thumb ran over the other’s knuckles. You're right, my dear. Though…
He leaned closer to whisper. As much as it shames me to admit, I believe I misplaced them. I wouldn't want to send him searching the entire building.
A hint of red crept up on his cheeks, glowing against his pale complexion.
Doctor Harebrayne tapped his chin. Hm… How about a chain? If they’re hanging around your neck, you'll know exactly where they are even when you've taken them off.
Lord van Zieks wrinkled his forehead. In hopes that I remember to put them on in the first place…
I'll make sure you wear them!
Doctor Harebrayne squeezed his hand. I'll put them on for you first thing in the morning!
Henry internally raised a brow. The doctor was known to be scatterbrained at times, another good reason to have people like Henry around, but that seemed to have slipped the lord's mind as he chuckled and said, You're too kind, Albert. Although it sounds like something I'd look forward to.
It's settled then!
the doctor exclaimed. We’ll take a trip to the city and get you a nice exemplar! And oh, we could stop by Iris’s while we’re at it!
The doctor’s other hand joined in to enclose the lord’s.
A shimmer flashed across Lord van Zieks’s expression. A grandiose idea, my love – Mr Elper!
Henry stood to attention as the lord’s gaze met his. Yes, my lord?
Through his narrowed lids twinkled undeniable excitement. Please notify our niece of our plan to visit.
It was a secret open to all inhabitants of the estate. It was not even a secret, not when Lord van Zieks titled the doctor with “dear” or took every opportunity he found to link their arms even when he didn’t need support to walk, not when Doctor Harebrayne in return so often intertwined their fingers and tenderly fixed shirt buttons and shoelaces when the lord’s body wouldn’t bent as he liked. Not when they shared a home and hearth, a bed and a family.
In his early days, Henry had addressed it once, obviously far from his employers’ ears, to his superiors. They had simply shook their heads and advised him to read the room, he was a footman in no position to stick his nose into his masters’ matters. And Henry had understood.
It was flowing through the manor, wherever the lord and the doctor went, it followed. It was like a breeze, too light for the taboo to grip, too warm to not notice its presence. It was not something that needed a name.
Henry bowed. Right away, my lord.