My Chauffeur
This is a story of Gay erotic fiction. If you are underage: or you or your jurisdiction aren't prepared for reading about two adult men in sexual situations than go away, otherwise read on and enjoy. Any similarity between persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Thanks for all the comments and words of encouragement.
You know, times have changed since the 1920's, don't make love without a glove. Dante-
My Chauffeur -Part IV-
Kingsley walked down the street toward the pub that he frequented on his one evening a week and half day free. He'd started going in there after Lord Beaufort got married. Their relationship had taken a drastic turn after the wedding, Cecil treated Kingsley as politely as ever but he no longer stayed at his club so their physical relationship was non existent. True, Cecil was preoccupied with things since the old Earl passed away. He also still had his practice in Mayfair and his chair at Royal Surgeons so by rights he had very little time. The rub for Bill was not only the lack of sexual relations which he missed sorely, but too the closeness that had spontaneously sprung up between them. Now Cecil was physically as near during the day as he always was but emotionally he was somewhere else, somewhere Bill couldn't follow. Kingsley had very little education past the basics but he had a dogged loyalty so as painful as it was to be shut out of Cecil's life, he quietly kept watching and waiting, hoping that time would allow him to once again feel emotionally close to Cecil again. He went into the warm bright pub and ordered a pint and got talking with the lads.
Cecil, went into Beatrice's darkened sitting room after dinner. She was very far along in her pregnancy, due at the end of the month, and her old fashioned propriety required her to stay at home these last few months. She had complained of feeling a little unwell when she excused herself from the table and had come back in here to rest. Cecil found her sleeping lightly and she awoke when he touched her cheek.
"Hello Darling, feeling better?" Cecil asked.
"Um much." She said and rubbed her cheek against his hand. "Are we still planning on leaving for Castleford tomorrow?"
"Yes if you're able to travel, we'll book a private compartment and the drive from the station isn't bad, the old Rolls is quite comfortable." He saw she was pale and there was marked edema around her eyes and hands, he wondered about just canceling the trip, tradition said the baby should be born there but maybe they should just stay here. "I tell you what, why don't we just stay put here, we're quite comfortable and the doctors are much closer if there were to be any problems. There's room for your Mother to stay after all and she might enjoy London better than buried in the country." Cecil said and smiled at her. "We'll have the baby christened at Castleford instead, that should appease the shades of my ancestors."
"Thanks, Darling, I would rather not travel at present. I'm afraid I would be ill all the way there. I have such a headache." She smiled weakly.
Cecil rang for her maid and wished her a good night. He went into his study and looked out the window onto the back garden, which wasn't much of a garden really mostly servants stairs and a courtyard that gave onto the muse. He was worried about Beatrice, and he was desperately tired from working too much and being concerned about his newly acquired estates.
His Grandfather had left things in perfect order but he was still trying to come to grips with the details. After the baby was born he was seriously considering giving up his chair at Royal Surgeons, he wanted to have time for his child, like his grandfather had had with him. As he stood there looking down into the courtyard he recognized, Kingsley walking toward the servants stairs. There was another worry, he missed Kingsley, missed their sharing a bed as desperately as anything else, but his sense of duty required him to be attentive to Beatrice. He could read the longing in Kingsley's eyes when he helped him dress, Cecil sensed Kingsley was hurt and he knew he needed to somehow talk with him and resolved to do so the next morning. He undressed and went to sleep almost immediately.
The knocking woke Cecil, use to being disturbed at night by patient's he quickly pulled on a robe and answered the door. Beatrice's maid stood in the hall, pale and shaking.
"Come quick, my lord, her ladyship's time has come." The girl said in a panic.
"Very well, Betty, please ring for Dr. Carlson." Cecil said and watched the flustered girl run down the hallway. He went straight away to Beatrice's rooms and found them darkened, Beatrice was propped up on pillows and looked drawn and grey. Cecil touched her hand and she jumped inexplicably.
"Sorry, Darling, I didn't mean to startle you. Are you doing alright, I've rang for the Doctor?" Cecil said.
"Cecil, I feel so strange I had Betty shut off the lights they were flashing so, very strange." Beatrice whispered.
Cecil felt Beatrice grip his hand and then it got tighter and she squeezed until he winced with pain, he looked more closely at her and realized she'd gotten a strange expression, that's when the first convulsion took her. They wracked her body causing her face to twist and her arms and legs to jerk and flail. Cecil nearly yanked the bell pull out of the wall he tugged it so hard and tried to open her jaw which was clamped tight shut. Kingsley entered the room having been alerted by the maid before she went downstairs to ring for the Doctor.
"Kingsley, Thank God! Hand me the brush off her table there and run get my medical bag, she's having seizures." Cecil said, and taking the brush he called after Kingsley as he ran for the bag, "Have that girl tell Carlson to hurry!"
Cecil tried and finally succeeded in placing the ivory handle of the brush across her open lower jaw, in hopes it would keep her airway open. He noted that she was turning from grey to a deepening blue.
Kingsley returned with the bag and Cecil motioned for him to protect Beatrice's head while he opened the bag and rummaged for the vial of Barbiturate and a Hypo. He carefully drew up the clear solution from the ampoule and Kingsley helped him stabilize Beatrice's arm and applied the tourniquet. He located the vein and injected the medication. Cecil seemed to detect a slight relaxation of the convulsion but Beatrice was horribly blue and as far as he could tell wasn't breathing.
Dr. Carlson ran into the bedchamber still in his overcoat. Cecil explained what had occurred and Carlson administered another injection of Barbiturate, without success. Beatrice died shortly afterward. Carlson explained to Cecil that the baby had likely died shortly after the ecclampsia began.*(see footnote) ______________
Cecil's mind was numb, he didn't remember making the funeral arrangements, nor putting the notice in the paper. He really didn't remember dressing in his mourning attire this morning, yet he could see that he was wearing mourning and that he was in St James the self same church that had seen his wedding only last spring. He focused on the black and silver pall that covered the mahogany box. The glaring reminder of why they were all present. The vicar went through the office for the dead and he made the required responses, he paid attention as the eulogy was read, he accepted the condolences offered by friends and family as the casket was taken to the hearse that would in turn take it to the station to be transferred to Castleford. He followed the pall bearers out the front of the church and stood bareheaded in the rain as the casket was put into the hearse.
He stood unsure of what to do next when a sturdy presence stepped up behind him and whispered over his shoulder, "This way, my lord, I've got the car running. I'll take you to the station."
"Kingsley, I... thanks...I"
"This way, Sir." Kingsley said and put his hand under Cecil's elbow and led him to the Grosser. He held the door for Cecil and for Lady Sutherland, swathed in black crepe.
Cecil sat in the leather seat and watched as the streets slowly went by, his Aunt Elisabeth, providing a nervous chatter all the way to the station about various relations present at the funeral. She made absolutely no pretense of needing any answers so he let her chatter away. He looked up once and saw the reflection of Kingsley's worried face watching him. Something in that expression penetrated his melancholy and he managed a rather grim smile.
At the station he transferred to a private compartment with his Aunt and a group of Beatrice's relatives. Unable to make an effort at conversation he simply sat and watched out the window. How could this be happening, Beatrice dead, the baby...his mind blanked again and he found himself standing again in the evening drizzle.
Once again the calm reassuring voice over his left shoulder said, "This way, sir, I've pulled the car round."
Cecil found himself in the back of the old Rolls that had been his Grandfather's car and again the scenery went by, this time though his Aunt chose silence.
Castleford looked in deepest mourning as the cortege pulled into the forecourt, the horse drawn hearse from the village had made the procession late getting in. It was nearly dark as the group of estate men carried the casket into the family chapel. Cecil followed it in and took his place in front in the pews carved with the families names, names inscribed at christenings and marriages. He looked and found that someone had carved Beatrice's name into the brass plaque under his own. The Vicar from the village started the internment prayers as the pallbearers sat the casket beside the open niche in the wall near the altar. Then Cecil was being led up to the casket by the Vicar and he knelt at the kneeler and stared dry eyed at his dim reflection in its polished side. He leaned down and kissed the top of the casket, then stood and placed a handful of dirt, collected from the churchyard and placed ready in a small bowl, on the top of the lid.
The next thing he knew he was standing in his rooms at Castleford full darkness had fallen outside the casement windows that were being pelted with the rain. He was staring at his own reflection again, marveling at how cool and reserved he appeared when inwardly he was vacant and empty. The soft knock brought him out of his trance and he turned to see Kingsley standing behind him.
"I've run a hot bath for you, my lord, this way." Kingsley said again taking Cecil under the elbow.
Cecil was content to be led and didn't say anything but flashes of the last two days were coming back to him as the warm hand cupped his elbow. Kingsley laying out his clothes, telling him the notice needed writing, helping with the funeral men, showing the Vicar in when he called. Cecil soon realized that Kingsley had led him through this whole nightmare and allowed him to dissociate himself until he could process the painful situation. He stood while the strong hands removed the stiff suit and shirt. He sat when told and felt his boots being removed then his stockings. Again he stood and felt the hands at the waist of his trousers and then they gently helped him into the deep hipbath of warm scented water.
He leaned forward when told and felt the hands scrub his back and then he leaned back and they washed his front. "I've poured you a glass of whiskey, my lord." Kingsley said and placed the glass in Cecil's hand. Cecil tasted the smokiness of the whiskey and the warmth spread from his stomach outward. He watched as Kingsley picked up his clothes and disappeared into the dressing room then return with bedclothes and his robe.
"Bill, I don't know what to say...thanks.." Cecil started then stopped at a loss.
"Why my lord, I have a duty to you, you saved my life in more than one way...it's the least I could do." He paused and then, "You know I'd do anything for you don't you?" he whispered.
Cecil could feel the hot tears running down his cheeks, "If I hadn't before, Bill, I do now." Cecil buried his face in his hands and felt the strong hands resting on his shoulders.
Kingsley watched from a distance as Cecil walked the lane into the village. He'd been following him since the funeral. Bill knew that Cecil was devastated by the twin deaths and could in some sense understand, especially about the child. Cecil had kept to his rooms for two days then had awoken on the third day, rang and asked to be dressed in tweeds. Kingsley had laid them out and helped attach the crepe armband to the sleeve of the jacket. Cecil had been walking around the estate, the fields and village for two days now. He walked from breakfast until tea time. He'd then go sit in the chapel for a time and then back in the house for dinner. Bill felt it was good for him to walk it out who knows he might have done the same if the circumstances were reversed. At least he wasn't drinking as some were known to do given the situation. He'd been following him at a distance just to keep an eye on him in case he needed him. Initially Kingsley had worried for Cecil's sanity he'd wandered around in a fog, barely speaking only eating when he was sat down in front of the plate and every forkful encouraged. At least now he seemed more normal, sad, but normal.
Kingsley followed Cecil through the village and right out the other side, the hedge rows that bordered the fields closed in on the sides of the road and Bill tried to keep at least on bend behind Cecil so as not to disturb him. He followed around the next curve and Cecil was gone. He stopped and looked around and noticed up ahead the remains of an old gate and could just make out the tumbledown walls of an old croft. He eased through the gate and was brought up short by Cecil who stepped in front of him and looked him dead in the eye.
"Bill, what's all the cloak and dagger?" Cecil asked
"Begging your pardon my lord, I was only making sure you were alright." Bill said, dropped his head and kicked the sod.
Cecil reached out and cupped Bill under the chin and brought the face up where he could see it. "Bill, you've shown me more care and compassion than I know how to ever return. What did I ever do to deserve you." Cecil said quietly and smiled. Cecil knew he loved Bill, passionately and in a deeper way, he was humbled by the love he saw returned in his blue eyes. He took Bill's hand in his and led him into the ruins of the small croft. Neither could envision how a family had lived there, the enclosed space was so small. Cecil sat on a fallen beam and pulled Bill close. He touched the milky complexion and let his fingers stray up into the auburn hair then closed round behind his neck and pulled him down to his lips.
The kiss ended naturally and Bill sighed, "Crikey, I've missed that."
To be continued.....
*Footnote in the UK in the 1920's, 19% of all deaths were as a result of pregnancy/childbirth, and 43% of infant mortality was due to premature birth. Today these numbers are far fewer.