Chapter Four

Author's Note: Sorry I took so long to update this. However, I did manage to get the final part written and decided to split it into two parts as it was getting pretty long. The last chapter should be up next week.

Evans gaped at him for a full minute before laughing. "You're having a laugh. You? A gentleman's gentleman?"

"And why not?" Lugg scowled at him. Evans noted the tone Lugg had used and abruptly stopped laughing.

"It weren't an insult, Maggers. You know I wouldn't do that to you. It's just that, well, I know you. You've never bowed your head to any man. Why would you…."

Evans paused and tilted his head to the side. Then he sidled closer to Lugg.

"It's him, innit it? The fellow who comes and visits you. Sort of an odd one, ain't he? I caught a glimpse of him when you was sick. Neely was with me. You know Neely. Knowing about the royals and peerage is his hobby. And he told me that that young man's got a real pedigree. Wouldn't give me a name, mind you, but from what he told me, your fellow is from one of those old families that mixes with the royals on and off."

Lugg did his best to look disinterested despite his curiosity in the information Evans was giving him. "So what if it is 'im?"

"Maggers, I'm only saying this to be kind. You gotta know that," Evans said, holding out his hands. "But men like that…they get their gents from agencies. Places with a tradition. And those gents are trained for years to be personal man-servants. They don't get them from our class."

"I could learn," Lugg replied. "'Ow 'ard can it be? Mind the 'ouse and seeing to meals and such."

"It's not just about cleaning up and making a few meals," Evans insisted. "It's a whole other way of living. It's being at the beck and call of your man at all times. It's taking care of him as tenderly as his own mother would. And with a young man like him, it'd be about considering his own good and his standing even when he's not aware of it himself."

Evans took a step back and eyed Lugg appraisingly. "I'm not saying you couldn't learn. You've always learned anything you really wanted to as quick as that. I just don't know if that's a life you'd be happy with, Maggers."

Lugg continued to scowl, but did consider what Evans was saying. He couldn't deny that Evans had touched on concerns he had had himself over this decision. Still, even with every doubt creeping into his thoughts, Lugg found that his resolve only grew stronger rather than waning.

"Are you goin' to teach me or aren't you?" he demanded.

Evans sighed, clearly still reluctant. "He might already have a man, you know. If he really is the sort that Neely seems to think he is. And even if he doesn't or if he's thinking about making a change, there's no promise that he'll take you on."

Lugg blinked hard. This was a possibility he hadn't considered. He suspected that Campion had no permanent domestic given how often Campion talked about dining out or with friends and a mention he had made of a woman who cleaned his place twice a week.

However, there was still plenty of truth to what Evans had told him. Typically, valets for upper class families tended to be almost as cultured as the people they served. Refined with impeccable manners and thoroughly trained in every aspect of their service. Lugg was confident in his ability to learn, but all the learning he could accomplish might not be able to surmount his criminal past or the lack of innate refinement he would inevitably have.

Nevertheless, based on what he knew about Campion, Lugg figured a typical, proper man-servant might not be the best fit for him anyway. Especially if Campion persisted in getting involved with crime and other dangerous activities the way he had been.

Evans could see the decision in Lugg's face and finally gave in. "All right, Maggers. I'll teach you. I just pray to God it works out for you."

Over the next few weeks, Lugg got an education unlike any he had ever undertaken before.

He was only able to talk to Evans sporadically, but whenever they did meet, the conversation was completely absorbed with things like clothes: how to care for them, how to help his master dress appropriately for any occasion and how to make suggestions for adjustments to the wardrobe.

"Mind you, some of this you'll have to learn on the outside," Evans had told him at one point. "Fashion's always changing. And then there's your young man's personality to consider. What kind of impression he likes to make and so on."

He nodded at Lugg thoughtfully. "That's the most important thing of all, Maggers. You'll need to get to know your master inside and out. His habits, his funny quirks, things he likes and things that put him in a good mood and things he won't abide at any time. He'll be looking to you to make his dwelling his home. That means making sure he always feeling unfussed. A gentleman doesn't want to feel he has to hide himself in his own home."

After Evans had taught him all he could about clothes and basic manners, Lugg took up his suggestion to volunteer for additional duties in the prison's kitchens, helping to prepare food for both the other prisoners and the guards. There, he was able to learn the basics of cooking from inmates who had had experience in clubs and restaurants.

Granted, he didn't have access to high quality food or exotic ingredients and was only able to learn simple recipes. However, what he did learn, he was confident he could build on the knowledge he had gained once he had an opportunity to widen his culinary instruction.

He also spent time working in the laundry room and added janitorial jobs into his routine. It was tedious, frustrating work, but Lugg soon built up the patience for it and developed a desire to make sure that spaces were tidy and that floors were spotless. He wasn't always able to act on his budding instincts for order. The guards had no tolerance for that sort of fuss and were far more interested in the work getting done rather than it being of the highest quality.

However, the result of all this work was that Lugg's standards for domestic spaces rose dramatically. It also made the days pass much more quickly, his mind far too occupied to dwell on the grind of prison life.

For now, he also made the decision to not inform Campion of his activities. When he did finally approach Campion with an offer for his services, Lugg wanted it to be from a position of knowledge so he could prove to Campion that he was not completely ignorant of what his role would be.

A couple of months of this went by with Lugg applying himself diligently toward improving his domestic skills. He had hoped for at least a couple more months of preparation before he said anything to Campion.

Unfortunately, Campion ended up disrupting those plans anyway.

"An opportunity has arisen," Campion said as the two of them shared their tea and cocoa. "Something you're sure to be interesting in."

Lugg raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Wot's that then?"

Campion sat his mug down. "A parole hearing. For you."

Lugg let out something between a snort and a chuckle. "Yer 'aving a laugh. With my record? I'm lucky I only got two more years left."

"No, I'm completely serious," Campion said. "Mind you, I'm sure it won't be easy to convince them of your ex-burglar status and why it makes you a good candidate for early release. But we can but try."

Lugg gaped at him. All along, he had been prepared to stay in Parkhurst for every last second of his sentence. The possibility that he could get out any sooner hadn't even occurred to him.

But now that the chance was there, Lugg couldn't deny the appeal that it held. To be free. To have a chance to start over….

"That leaf you said you were going to turn over," Campion said, interrupting his chain of thought. "Have you made in progress in that area yet? Because it certainly would help your case if you had honest work lined up so you might not be so easily tempted to fall back on…less than favorable endeavors."

Lugg finished his cocoa silently so he could have time to collect his thoughts. He didn't know why he was nervous. Then again, he also hadn't planned on getting a chance at early parole either.

"I 'ave. I figgered I'd work for you. As yer gent."

"For me?" Campion said, blinking hard. "Lugg, I…."

"Look 'ere," Lugg said, not wanting him to have a chance to object before speaking his piece. "Someone's got to look after you wit' all the trouble you get into. And those fancy agency gents, they're not goin' to know 'ow to 'andle wot you get yerself into. Me, I've known about trouble all me life and can 'andle that jus fine. And I bin learning about keeping up a 'ouse and I'll keep on learning when I get out."

Lugg paused and leaned closer to Campion. "Meanwhile, I'll be teaching you 'ow to 'andle yerself better so you won't keep gettin' in over yer 'ead. 'Cos if you don't, yer goin' to get yerself killed one of these days. Not that you might not anyway. But at least you'll 'ave a sporting chance of it."

Once he was done, Lugg leaned back in his chair, his coal-black eyes studying Campion to gauge his response.

For a minute, Campion gazed back at him silently, and Lugg wondered if this had been such a good idea after all.

Then another smile appeared on Campion's face. It was followed by a hearty laugh. Lugg glared at him, but Campion grinned and waved a hand.

"I'm sorry. I am. It's just…you've reminded me again of one of the reasons why I keep coming here. All this time and yet you still can surprise me, Lugg." He grinned even more and leaned forward.

"You know, I think this might very well be one of the most fascinating leaf turns of all time."

Life became a blur for Lugg after that visit.

Of course, there was still the usual labor he was expected to do and his continued study of all things domestic. But then, other moments came that foretold of the momentous occasion that was coming up.

First, a solicitor named Hargrove showed up to brief Lugg on what to expect at his parole hearing. Which Lugg found more than a little daft as he, a career criminal with a working brain, knew more than a little about the legal system and what he was up against.

"Mr. Lugg," Hargrove pleaded with him. "I really do think it's best that we plan carefully so we can endear ourselves as much as possible to the parole judge so he might perhaps overlook…."

"Lumme, wot are you on about?" Lugg sighed. "That lot won't overlook nothin'. They'll know me record and there's no use denying it. I jus''ave to convince 'em I've given that all up, see? I'm leaving that life behind me."

"I mean no offense," Hargrove said. "But you must understand how difficult it will be to get them to believe in your sudden reform after years of recidivism."

"You think I don' know that?" Lugg frowned at him. "And wot makes you think some fancy legal jiggery will get me anywhere wit' 'im either? There's nothin' to do but jus' let 'em know I've left that life. Plain as that."

Far more interesting to Lugg had been the visit he got from a tailor so he could be measured. He remembered that the clothes he had been wearing when he was arrested had become torn and dirty from the scuffles he had gotten involved in during his attempted escape. It made sense that he would be given new ones as it wouldn't do to leave Parkhurst in a prisoner's tunic.

Still, he didn't understand the need for a tailor. If Campion was going to arrange for him to get new clothes, couldn't the sizes just be figured out from his old duds? He was sure that similar ones could be found fairly easily. It wasn't as if they were anything special.

Lugg had never been measured for a fitting before and found the fuss involved vaguely off-putting. Still, he also was aware that this was something he would need to become familiar with if he was going to look after Campion's clothes. That is, if his plans worked out. So Lugg did his best to take the prodding and fussing with an air of quiet dignity befitting a man embarking on an educational experience.

At the very least, this stance worked well enough to prevent Lugg from acting on his natural instincts to cuff the man whenever he got a little too personal with the measuring tape for his comfort.

Two weeks after Campion had told him about the parole hearing, the fateful day arrived. Lugg was ushered into a room with a large table across from him. Sitting at it were three men, one of whom Lugg recognized as the warden. He assumed that the man at the center was the parole judge with the mousey little man next to him being an assistant of some sort.

Another table was placed at an angle a few feet away from the one the judge was sitting at. Sitting at that one were Hargrove, Campion and a constable who looked vaguely familiar to Lugg although he couldn't quite place where he had seen that rozzer before.

A chair was placed directly behind where Lugg was standing. Once he sat down, the shackles were removed and the judge began to speak.

"Magersfontein Lugg." The judge paused as if he couldn't quite believe what he had just said before continuing. "We're here to decide if an early release for good behavior would be in the best interests of justice."

The judge scanned some papers that his assistant shuffled over to him. Then they shared a few whispered words before the judge looked back up.

"To be quite honest, I am amazed that we are even discussing it in the first place. Your record…well, I hardly need to point out the less than suitable effect the law's punishment has had on your behavior thus far. From the look of it, only the generous recommendations of some honorable gentlemen, fine, upstanding members of society, prompted this review to begin with."

The judge leaned forward in his chair, languidly gesturing at Lugg with his index finger.

"Perhaps you can explain to us why we should give you this opportunity."