Work Text
15 March 1815
Pembroke Manor
Dining Hall
Outside of London, England
11 P.M.
“Is there any sign of him, Jennings?” Phoenix asked his valet as he stood there in his dinner outfit, his brow furrowed with concern as he peered over the older man's shoulder into the swirling white darkness beyond the window.
The salt-and-pepper haired man shook his head, his white gloved hand plucking a loose, stray thread from Phoenix's pocket.
“Not yet, Sir,” he replied, his eyes flickering toward the window and then back again, the thick beeswax candle he held in his hand casting soft light on the walls. “And, given the storm, I don't think it likely that he would be out on a night like this.”
At least I hope that Master Zacharias would have decided to stay home tonight though Master Phoenix may be disappointed. Jennings sighed, his eyes flickering once again to the swirling maelstrom outside the window. I hope he has more sense than that; he'd be putting his very life in jeopardy going out on a night like this.I know that he isn't happy about it but what can one do? Best to just wait until morning and see then; it's much safer.
Phoenix bit his lip, the expression on his face falling, keen disappointment written clearly on his face. Jennings laid his hand on his arm, squeezing it affectionately, his gaze sympathetic, Phoenix smiling wanly in return.
“Sir, I'm sure that he is safe and sound at home and waiting for morning until the storm blows itself out.” He looked again out of the window and back at Phoenix. “He wouldn't do something so foolish as to attempt to come here...”
I certainly hope for Master Phoenix's sake that this is true.
Phoenix nodded, sighing inwardly. He had been hoping that Zacharias, the seventh Earl of Surrey-a fellow lawyer and, for the past year, his lover-would have been able to join him for dinner. He had sent the invitation the week before and Zacharias had accepted it, and happily so, and both men had been eagerly looking forward to it.
To prepare for the dinner party, everything had been swept and cleaned, polished and dusted until it shone; the good china had been retrieved from the pantry; a bottle of the best Chardonnay had been brought up from the wine cellar; meats, tarts and jellies had been lovingly prepared by the cook, Mrs Graceson, each placed on either a silver platter, pewter dishes or china plates, waiting on the table for the arrival of their guest.
Phoenix popped into the kitchen to see how things were going and he couldn't repress the look of utter joy on his face. Mrs. Graceson, the cook, smiled at him as he looked over each of the dishes, her flour-dusted hands crossed over her apron primly, nodding in satisfaction as he praised her delectable dishes before taking his leave.
As the time for their dinner party came ever closer, Phoenix had been concerned as he looked up, frowning as he saw the thickening clouds in the slate-grey sky. It had been a long winter and he had the feeling that they weren't quite over it just yet; it appeared that there was a chance that there would be more coming in future and he only hoped that it would hold off until after dinner.
He looked down at the piece of paper he held in his hand, reading Zacharias' careful script over again. I may be late for our dinner engagement this evening; something has come up in a case and I need to go to London to confer with a witness. I'll be back as soon as I can. I look forward to dining with you this evening and I cannot wait until the time arrives. I love you, Phoenix, take care and be well. All my love, Zacharias.
He sighed as his eyes flickered back up toward the sky, his heart falling, his fingers tightening on the parchment paper.
Maybe Jennings is right, he thought sadly as the old man turned away, he'd be a fool to risk his life to come out on a night like tonight. A bitter taste rose in his throat. I must admit that it doesn't quell the longing I feel inside but... He turned away from the window, his eyes hooded. I wish that you could be here, Zacharias, but I don't want you to put yourself in danger for my sake. If anything ever happened to you, I'd... He forced himself to stop, his heart thudding in his chest.
It wouldn't do any good to be thinking such things; Zacharias wasn't an imprudent man, after all, and would use common sense when making up his mind as to what he wished to do. They'd been together a little over a year now and, if there was anything that he'd learned in that time, it was that Zacharias was NOT a fool.
He'd be careful on a night like this; he'd stay over in London and wouldn't risk coming out here. He took a deep breath, looking toward the window again. I'll just have to make peace with the fact that he won't be coming tonight and accept it. Still...
“Sir?” Jennings' voice broke into his thoughts and he half-turned to see his valet looking at him with a concerned expression on his face. “Are you all right, Sir?”
Phoenix nodded. “I'm quite all right, Jennings,” he replied quietly, his eyes flickering for what seemed to be the thirtieth time this evening to the window. He couldn't help it. “I just-” He broke off, swallowing hard.
Jennings nodded, his expression sympathetic. “I understand, Sir." He squeezed Phoenix's arm affectionately as he had since he was a child when he comforted him. "You're missing your young man and want him to be here.”
Phoenix nodded, the lump in his throat growing larger and it took every ounce of will he possessed not to cry out in mingled despair and frustration.
“Sir.” Jennings' voice was gentle as was the grip on his arm. “He won't be coming tonight and I think its time that you went to bed and had a good night's rest.” He looked at the window and then back at Phoenix. “He'll come by in the morning, I'm sure, once the storm has passed.”
Phoenix bit his lip and opened his mouth to say something but snapped it shut, nodding once. There was no point in arguing and, loathe though he was to admit it, his man was right.
“You're right, Jennings,” he said at last, the corners of his mouth turned down. “I certainly don't want him to put himself in harm's way just so he could be here with me.”
I wish it could be otherwise...
Jennings nodded, releasing Phoenix's arm.
“It is, in my opinion, the wisest course. Now, Sir, if you would please follow me?”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
16 March 1815
Pembroke Manor
Phoenix's Bedchamber
Outside of London, England
2 A.M.
He was in the middle of a wonderful dream when he was rudely jerked back into reality and he turned, a snarl on his lips ready to let loose upon the poor soul who'd been unlucky enough to wake him.
It abruptly faded, however, when he saw that it was Jennings who was shaking him by the shoulder, a grim expression on his face.
“Jennings? What-?” Phoenix was still not quite awake yet and had trouble trying to process what his valet was saying. In the end, after a third time of trying to decipher a garbled message, he slowly held up his hand, his mouth twisted into a pained grimace. “I can't understand a single word you're saying so please give me a few moments to compose myself.”
He could dimly make out Jennings' apprehensive nod; he yawned and rubbed his eyes, shaking his head, slowly coming into awareness of the world.
He yawned once again and lifted his arms above his head, stretching until his fingertips brushed the rich red velvet canopy and he sighed, turning his head to look at his valet who stood by the side of the bed, a lit candelabra in his hand.
“All right, Jennings, what is it?” He blinked his eyes a few times in order to clear them. “I assume that there's a reason why you came into my room and woke me at-” He paused, his eyes flickering blearily over to the china clock that lay on the night table beside his bed before going back to his valet “- at 2 A.M.”
“Begging your pardon, Sir, but there's a terrific pounding on the front door and, since it's roused half the household already, I thought it would be wise to awaken you and let you know.”
Phoenix's eyebrow rose. “Terrific... pounding?” His voice was incredulous. "And at the front door, you say?”
Jennings nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
Phoenix tilted his head slightly to the right, his eyes narrowing, straining his ears and hearing nothing than silence save for the harsh breath of his valet. “I don't hear anything,” he remarked after a few moments, linking his fingers together and giving the older man a baleful look. “If this is some kind of joke...”
“It's not, Sir.” Jennings' voice was cold and Phoenix winced at the biting tone. “As I said, half the household has been roused and are waiting on the upper floor above the foyer, armed with whatever they could grab on the way out.”
Phoenix's eyes widened as he finally realized that Jennings, himself, was holding a sword in his free hand. The seriousness of the situation imprinted itself firmly on his consciousness; although he couldn't hear a blessed thing, he now knew that, whatever else was going on, his staff was taking it most seriously.
Bloody hell. He sighed heavily, reluctantly throwing the thick black wool comforter back, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He held out a hand and Jennings quickly put a black silk dressing gown in it, shrugging it on before sliding his feet into slippers and wearily standing up.
“Very well then, Jennings,” he said quietly, “let's go find out what's going on.”
Jennings nodded grimly, leading the way while Phoenix waited and then followed close behind. The soft light threw dark shadows along the walls as they made their way down from his bedchamber, Phoenix's eyes narrowing as he walked along behind his valet.
I wonder what's going on. I can't imagine that he'd drag me out of bed in the middle of the blessed night for no reason. That's not like him... He knew Jennings to be solid and his loyalty to his employer was unquestionable. Why, the man had been his valet for many years and had served his father faithfully for twenty-seven years before that and he found it difficult-no, impossible-to believe that he would be pulling a silly prank at all. I wonder...
Phoenix felt a chill race down his spine at the thought when he heard, from out of the stillness of the early morning, the loud banging at the front door, an echoing boom throughout the entire house. He jumped, a startled oath escaping his lips before he could stop it, noting that all of the others assembled did the same save for Jennings. It was his valet who paused, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword, his face expressionless but Phoenix could read tension in every muscle in his body as the pounding continued.
It took a few moments for Phoenix to recover from his surprise and, as the pounding continued, Phoenix's eyes narrowed. There was something...familiar...in the cadence of the pounding that he couldn't help but wonder if he'd heard the sound before.
Why do I feel like I...know... that cadence? Could it...?
Wait a moment! Phoenix, his eyes widening and heart pounding, swerved around Jennings' taut form, running past his startled valet before he had a chance to move. He raced down the stairs, past the staff huddled on the landing, ignoring his valet's repeated calls to stop; he could dimly hear Jennings pivoting and sprinting after him, cursing under his breath.
Phoenix arrived at the front door as the last loud noise flowed into silence, hurriedly undoing the bolts and locks, unaware of the pounding feet coming up from behind him and throwing the door wide open. He could hear the startled “SIR!” coming from behind him but he paid them no mind for on the front porch, caked with mud and snow, stood Zacharias, a tired, lopsided grin on his face.
Despite the still swirling snow, and the bitter, freezing cold, Phoenix ran to him and took him in his arms as Zacharias collapsed into them, his eyes closing.
“Zacharias...” Phoenix couldn't help the sob that came into his voice and he swallowed hard as he set Zacharias back away from him, the rush of emotion flowing over him at that moment overwhelming. Tears ran down his face as he tenderly cupped the side of Zacharias' face, kissing him soundly over and over.
When they had parted to catch their breath, Zacharias looked at him, exhaustion apparent in his body but his eyes shining. His hair was dripping wet with patches of mud here and there but he was very happy to see him.
“I....made it, Phoenix,” he whispered, leaning forward and kissing his lover's lips tenderly once again, his hand clasping his arm, a crooked smile on his lips. “Thank God I...made it.”
Phoenix heard stone silence from behind him and he half-turned in surprise to see the staff assembled in a semi-circle around him; for a moment, he'd forgotten that they were there since all of his attention was on Zacharias who leaned heavily against him. Jennings stood to his left and he noted that his man sported a rather curious expression on his his craggy face; he wasn't at all certain if he was relieved, annoyed, surprised or some combination of all three.
His fingers tangled in Zacharias' muddy and wet hair, holding him close while Jennings, composure regained, walked past them both without a word out into the snowy night. He walked up to Zacharias' horse who stood outside on the path leading up to the manor house, in his hand and led the exhausted animal to the stables, a curious smirk on his lips as he walked away.
The rest of the assembled staff hurried off in different directions while Phoenix led Zacharias into the house and closed the door behind them to keep out the still swirling snow. Jennings returned some time later, reporting that Zacharias' horse had been dried, watered and fed and was now sleeping in a freshly made stall. Both Phoenix and Zacharias thanked him and he smiled as he first locked the door and walked past them, wishing them each a “Good evening” before disappearing up stairs.
He first hurriedly divested Zacharias of his soaking wet and muddy greatcoat, handing it to the head cook, Mrs. Graceson, who appeared on his left, a steaming mug of tea in her hand. Phoenix bid him to sit in the comfortable chair by the fire place and he did, sinking down into it with a grateful sigh while she leaned over, pressing the steaming mug into Zacharias' numb hands, who took it gratefully, thanking her courteously. She smiled back as she took the greatcoat and vanished into the coat room on the left hand side of the foyer.
Molly, the house servant, brought a woolen blanket and handed it to Phoenix, who took it with a smile and wrapped it around Zacharias' shaking shoulders, settling on the chair arm beside him. Phoenix thanked her with a look, also noting that she had the presence of mind, despite the early hour, to light some of the candelabras so that they would have some light.
“We'll have to get you out of that wet clothing soon or you'll catch your death of cold.” He instructed Molly to ask Leyton, the assistant valet, to fetch some dry clothing for Zacharias and she nodded as she curtsied and then turned, disappearing into the foyer beyond the candlelight.
Once she had gone, his attention returned to Zacharias, his arm snaking around his shoulders and pulling him close, ignoring the fact that his dressing gown was smeared with both mud and snow. What did it matter now that Zacharias was now safe here with him?
“I'm very happy to see you, Zacharias, and I'm so glad that you've come but I must say that I am rather surprised that you would come all this way, int his storm.” Phoenix looked down on him as he sipped the steaming hot liquid gingerly, closing his eyes gratefully as the hot liquid slid down his throat. “I would have expected you to stay in London and then come in the morning.”
“I'd already left London earlier yesterday afternoon and was on my way home when the maelstrom hit. I wasn't planning on coming out because of the storm but I-” He paused a moment, pink rising in his cheeks. “I... was closer here than I was to home and I didn't want to be away from you so I...decided to come.” He leaned back into him, sighing happily.
“You took one hell of a chance, Zacharias; I'm just glad that you made it here safely.” He couldn’t help the stern tone in his voice and Zacharias winced, hurriedly taking another sip of the steaming liquid. “If something had happened to you, I-” His voice trailed off.
“I know.” Zacharias' voice was quiet. “But nothing was going to keep me away from you, from where I wanted to be so...” He paused a moment and looked up at him; Phoenix was dazzled by the love that he saw so clearly on his face and he couldn't help but smile as he leaned down to kiss him. “I had to come; I couldn't stay away...”
I can understand that, Phoenix mused to himself as he slowly straightened up, and I honestly couldn't fault him for coming out here in the storm for, were I in the same position, I would have done exactly as he did.
“I'm glad that you're here.” Phoenix's voice was soft, his fingers tightening around Zacharias' shoulder.
Zacharias smiled as he cuddled closer to him.
“So am I.”
It's so good to be home. Zacharias smiled as he cuddled closer to Phoenix, murmuring happily. Right here where I belong...
They would have their private dinner, it was true, but for now all Phoenix wanted to do was to cuddle with him by the fire and, judging from the look of contentment on Zacharias' face, his lover felt the same. He smiled as he kissed the top of Zacharias' head softly and held him as the flurry of activity went on around them, staring into the dancing flames dreamily and basking in both its warmth and Zacharias'.
.:FIN:.