Page 22 of Once a Gentleman
Chapter Ten
Samuel stood quite properly before the desk, hands clasped behind his upright back.
“I wish to discuss your future in this household, Samuel,” Kit said.
After Turner had departed on his mission to press some passing officer into service at his table, Kit had slipped out the back of the house and taken a turn in the garden, uninspiring as it was at this time of year. The fresh air and the sight of living greenery, albeit overgrown and weedy, gave him the peace of mind he needed to resolve upon what had to be done to ensure Turner’s dinner did not end in disaster, something that had become unexpectedly important to him.
Turner might be a mass of contradictions, one moment every inch the careless rake and the next fretting over inviting a junior officer to dinner in such a way that his wife would be comfortable in his company, but that only made the latter impulse more praiseworthy.
And he had asked Kit for his help. That traitorous warmth in his breast only grew at the thought. Turner wanted to do something that was kind, that was right, and Kit had been the one in whom he confided.
Perhaps it was simply because he paid Kit to assist him with just this sort of arrangement. But it felt like more than that, and Kit couldn’t squash the little fireflies of delight it set off within him.
Given Turner’s trust, Kit could not in good conscience allow the party to fail simply because the household was, put bluntly, a catastrophe of almost Biblical proportions.
Hence, he had returned to the study and rung for Samuel.
“Indeed, sir?” Samuel replied. Kit approved of Samuel’s tone of stoic indifference, and more than ever, felt confident in his decision to ignore propriety, his employer’s implied wishes, and his lack of any real authority over the household itself. This was for Turner’s own good.
“Yes. I should like to promote you, once the necessary adjustments to the staff can be arranged.” Kit paused, watching Samuel closely, but the man did not so much as flick an eyelash. He was certain the man disliked Mattson, and also knew Kit was not in charge of the household staffing, but one would never know it to look at him now. “You have several qualities I consider indispensable for a butler in a respectable household. Firstly, you wear both shoes and stockings during the discharge of your duties, with the shoes always on the outside. Secondly, you spend a reasonable portion of the daylight hours in a state of sobriety. And lastly, you have not to my knowledge attempted to pour soup into a gentleman’s hat.”
That latter incident had occurred perhaps a week after Kit and Turner’s falling-out, on a rare occasion when Turner had chosen to invite his party of friends to dine, rather than taking the meal elsewhere. Kit had been sneaking out of the study while the night’s revelers were occupied at table, and through the dining-parlor door had caught a glimpse of Mattson, a very expensive-looking beaver hat, and a soup tureen, and fled precipitously, followed by the riotous laughter and applause of Turner’s guests.
“To give Mr. Mattson his due,” Samuel replied with great gravity, “the attempt was a success.”
Kit blinked. “Quite so. But I am afraid that the endeavor would have left me with similar feelings whether a success or a failure. Such enterprise would be better displayed in a less demanding profession.”
“Perhaps it would be simplest to push him off the docks in his cups, sir.”
For a moment, Kit thought his hearing must have gone; but no, Samuel really had just suggested murdering the butler.
“I beg your pardon,” he said, flatly.
Samuel’s shoulders shifted in the tiniest of shrugs. “Since you dislike the idea, it was a jest, sir. A poor one. I apologize most humbly.”
Kit was not at all sure that it had been a jest of any kind. “It is forgotten. But Mattson must be removed from the household all the same.”
For the first time, Samuel displayed some little unease. “Sir,” he began, and then stopped.
“Well, go on. You have my permission to speak, so long as we do not speak of anything that the constables might not hear.”
Samuel hesitated for a moment. “That is precisely the problem, sir.”
Kit gave him an inquiring look, and waved his hand to say,Go on. He rather thought he knew where this was leading. It was, in fact, precisely where he had hoped Samuel would allow himself to be led.
“Mr. Mattson has seen a great deal of, shall we say, youthful high spirits in this household. If he is dismissed, and leaves with any ill feeling, I’m afraid that he might take it upon himself to break the confidence of his position.”
It was too much to hope, then, that Turner had confined his dalliances with other men to parts of the house out of sight of the servants. Samuel clearly knew perfectly well what went on, and Mattson too. Possibly they all did. What a mare’s-nest this was. Kit rubbed at his temples, a sign of weakness he regretted displaying in front of Samuel, but a necessary relief he couldn’t resist.
“Samuel,” he began, and then stopped. The footman merely regarded him levelly, his patience apparently infinite. “Samuel,” he said more firmly, “Mr. Turner means to give a dinner party in two days’ time. Mattson must not be left in charge of the arrangements, nor of the service. I wish you to take full control of it from start to finish, and if you have any doubts as to details, you will discuss them with me.”
Kit had his own very powerful doubts that Turner would think to supervise the staff on this occasion; if only Turner were the sort of man to take a wife, for Kit had never met a fellow more in need of one. Kit himself had always depended upon his father’s consummately professional housekeeper and butler to determine what was appropriate on any given occasion. Hopefully he could remember some of what he had observed of their arrangements, and put it to good use.
“You gave me permission to speak my mind, sir?” At Kit’s nod, Samuel continued with, “While I take the liberty of agreeing with you that Mr. Mattson should not be left in charge of any arrangements, be they for a dinner or for the emptying of a chamber pot, he has presided over many of Mr. Turner’s festivities. I doubt very much that his presence at this one will matter to anyone.”
Kit sighed. “This one is different. Mr. Turner intends to host two fellow officers and their wives, and there will be no—youthful high spirits. Nor can there be any of the usual improprieties on the part of the household.”
“Ah,” said Samuel. And then, “Ah, that is indeed a different matter, sir. I understand. May I say, I don’t think it will be possible to arrange for Mr. Mattson to be permanently absent from the house on such short notice, but if you will give me the freedom to act, I will see to it that he is not present in his capacity as butler on Thursday.”
