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Trigger Warning: The following story contains scenes of marital infidelity if that's not your cup of tea, don't read any further. Cheers***
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Bradley was, in the opinion of Lady Carrington, the perfect butler. Proper, polite, and he ruled the staff with the iron fist that kept Lady Stirling's household in perfect order ever since the tragic death of her husband. Invisible until needed, the man could predict your every whim and satisfy it instantly. He appeared at her shoulder with the glass of ice water before even she had realized her throat was dry. The heat was oppressive in the drawing room on this August afternoon with its enormous South facing bay window. She took the glass from him gratefully.
"M'Lady."
His eyes never met hers, as was proper. What she would do for a man such as Bradley to run her house. Her own butler, Spalding, though a dear man, was approaching his 80s, was stone deaf, half blind and was becoming forgetful. She had the rest of the staff care for him, just as he had cared for three generations of Carringtons but the fact remained, he would need to be replaced. Rebecca remained silent as to where she had found Mr. Bradley as she remained silent on most of her staff. Lord Carrington was far too occupied with some uprising in Spain and it's effects on commerce and Parliament to worry about disciplining the staff or finding someone to do it for him. There he sat, tormenting her beloved Rebecca and the other ladies of her literary circle who had all arrived at Lady Stirling's summer estate for a pleasant week in the country. It was only the first day and they had arrived too late for him to join the hunt with the other husbands and so he sat with them. talking endlessly of the latest bills before his committee. The man was a bore. Alas, it had not always been so.
Lady Stirling suggested tea should be served in the garden as a way to escape the heat, though Lady Carrington suspected it had more to do with escaping tedious conversation. Though, as usual, her husband could not resist prattling on even when surrounded by Lady Stirling's beautiful gardens. She looked at her husband. He was still a handsome man, though perhaps too many good meals and his retirement from military service had left him a little more corpulent than in his youth. Theirs had been a courtship for the ages. They were ever so young and perhaps as terribly foolish as many had said, but love had conquered every impediment in their path. Now, more than two decades and five children later, was it not expected that this passion should wane? Lord Carrington was still so very kind to her, but that part of her, the girl within her that had never aged since the blossom of her youth, would never be satisfied with mere kindness. She stood to banish these thoughts and decided that a walk through the gardens with Rebecca would both soothe her mind and rescue her dear friend from tedium.
"My dearest Rebecca, wherever did you find a man like Bradley."
Rebecca stopped by a rosebush and lifted a bloom to her nose, then turned to face her friend.
"Amelia, you are perhaps my closest and dearest friend, however, there are things a woman must keep to herself. Suffice it to say, my Bradley came into my service through an intermediary and I doubt very much there is another like him."
Lady Carrington smiled, though she was a little put off by Rebecca's constant refusals. Was it perhaps that Bradley had a past such as poor Angelica? Rebecca's heart always went out to those who were the most downtrodden, charitable to a fault. She was certain the scar across Bradley's cheek held a story of sadness, one she could guess at sometimes when she caught his eyes soften when he thought no one was looking. He was very good at hiding it, of course, but men were not so good at hiding as women were at finding. Rebecca's refusals only added fervor to Amelia's desire to know from whence Bradley had come. She changed the subject of their discourse and continued their walk through the gardens. Returning to the guests as Bradley strode into the garden and announced that the gentlemen had returned successfully from the hunt and that dinner was served.
The food was, as always, sumptuous. Lady Carrington was certain she should truly hate Rebecca if she did not love her so much. Gifted with possibly the most outstanding cook in the county, though her own Mrs. Donnely was a very close second. She smiled, the competition between their cooks was legendary. Mrs. Porter had outdone herself this evening and each course outshone the previous. And as usual, the wines chosen by Bradley were a flawless match to every course. Lord Carrington and the other men excused themselves after the meal ended to avail themselves of the late Lord Stirling's collection of fine cigars which Lady Stirling always offered generously to her male guests. As the men strode to the smoking room, Lady Carrington watched her husband go, finally he had ears that wold respond positively to his interests, she was still so very fond of him. The ladies retired to the drawing room to discuss their latest literary adventures. Invariably, as with men and women throughout the ages, both groups would turn to gossiping like fish wives.
Bradley continued to show his colours throughout the evening. Lady Carrington could not easily dispel the pangs of jealousy she felt. She felt the sting of shame as she followed his movements through the room. Envy was not an emotion that pleased her at all. He seemed to notice her watching him and he walked towards her.
"Does M'Lady require anything of me?"
