Author's Note: Something funny I've discovered while writing this story is that it's possible for a writer to have a pretty good idea of what's going to happen next, sit down to write it, and discover that it's just not time for that to happen yet. I'm not intentionally stalling – I wasn't able to write for weeks due to being busy at work, but I was thinking a lot about what I would write once I had time – it's just that a bit that I intended to be maybe just a couple of paragraphs before I got in to the material that I had planned turned out to be an entire chapter. It's definitely not an action-packed episode, but I hope you enjoy it.
I learned a new period costume term while working on this chapter, and so of course had to find a way to include it. A banyan was an Asian-inspired type of men's robe popular in the 18th and early 19th century. It was also called a morning gown or night gown, but was not worn to bed like a modern nightgown. Regency gentlemen just slept in the same shirt they'd been wearing that day. Early banyans were loose and kimono-like, but later they became more fitted and fastened up the front, similar to a South Asian Sherwani. (This fitted style is what I have in mind.) Banyans were trendy in the 1700s, particularly among intellectuals or men who fancied themselves intellectuals, and were worn over a shirt and breeches as a casual alternative to the dress coat. By the early 1800s banyans were transitioning from a garment that could be worn in public to something only worn in private. By the time of this story they were considered appropriate for lounging around the house in the morning but not when going out. A decade or so later the banyan had evolved into the dressing gown and was mostly limited to the bedroom or bathroom.
Though the dining room at Dalton Abbey was spacious and richly decorated, the attendants numerous, and the food plentiful and well-prepared, Kurt found that these pleasures paled in comparison to the stolen minutes with Blaine just before dinner. He felt that he might gladly have accepted a less elegant meal served at a more elegant hour. Yet much as Kurt would have liked to devote his thoughts to the ways he and Blaine might have passed the time together, he was aware of his obligations to his host. He endeavored to focus on the dishes before him, the elegance of the room, and the expression of his appreciation for both to Lord Dalton.
The chief topic of their after dinner conversation was Lord Dalton's upcoming trip to London. The Queen's funeral would be held in one week, on the first of December. Lord Dalton would depart in two days and return two or three weeks hence. "I hope you will not find it lonely here, Mr. Hummel," said Lord Dalton. "Lady Dalton will join us tomorrow; perhaps she will be able to introduce you to some of the young ladies of the neighborhood."
"She will not want them to catch scent of him," said Blaine. "Not until she's decided which one to breed me to."
"Blaine, I have spoken to you about making such jests," said Lord Dalton sternly. "Your aunt is trying to do what is best for you. You may think her foolish, but she has shown more concern for your future than you have yourself. You are a man now. It is time to behave like one. If you have no regard for serious matters, you might at least show some consideration for our guest."
"I do apologize, Mr. Hummel," Blaine said. "I hope I have not offended you."
"No, please, it is quite all right," said Kurt. He felt embarrassed to have been witness to Lord Dalton's lecture, and still more embarrassed to have been the cause of it. "I look forward to meeting Lady Dalton, though I hope she will not put herself to trouble on my account. After all the excitement of Bath I have been looking forward to a few days of quiet relaxation."
"We have quiet enough here, to be sure," Lord Dalton said. "Too much, I sometimes think. My oldest son was fond of dances and parties."
Neither Kurt nor Blaine had a reply for this last remark, which was spoken in a soft and almost wistful tone. Kurt could not guess at what Blaine was thinking, but found himself pitying the old gentleman. While he had often thought of Blaine's grief, he had given little consideration to that of his father. He must mourn the loss of his wife and son, just as Kurt's own father mourned Kurt's mother. Yet Kurt and his father had managed to take comfort in one another while it seemed that Lord Dalton and Blaine had not.
After they retired to their rooms for the night, Kurt thought again of his father. While their relationship was warmer than that of Lord Dalton and Blaine, this must be in large part because Mr. Hummel suspected less of the truth. Far from guessing where Kurt's affections lay, Mr. Hummel had thought him enamored of Miss Cohen-Chang. Although he had expressed himself willing to see his son joined with a bride of another race, this could not be taken as a sign that he would tolerate a far less conventional romance. Lord Dalton was proof enough of this. He had traveled the world and brought home a foreign bride, yet he could not accept that his son's heart was not made to love women. Kurt could expect no better from his own father.
Indeed he might expect to face consequences far more severe, were his father ever to learn that he felt more than friendship towards Blaine. Regardless of the present Lord Dalton's wishes, Blaine could count upon inheriting both the title and the estate. Hartfield House was not entailed. Mr. Hummel would be free to cast Kurt out, leaving him with neither home nor family. Even that was not the worst that might happen if Kurt's secret were discovered. Mr. Hummel's heart was weak. The shock, the shame, might be more than it could withstand. Kurt felt he might endure much for Blaine, but not that. He could not allow his greatest joy to lead to his greatest loss. His father must never know. Kurt would protect him the only way he could, by guarding this secret forever.
He turned over in bed, though the change in position did little to ease his mind. Blaine's fanciful tale of the Bleeding Nun was to prove correct on two points. Kurt's sleep was troubled, and some time after midnight it began to rain.
The rain continued throughout the following day. Though Kurt might have wished for fairer weather, he was grateful to have something to talk about with Lord Dalton over breakfast. After they had each remarked upon their good fortune in having made the journey from Bath the previous day, Lord Dalton had expressed sympathy for Kurt's family having to continue their own journey home in such poor weather, and Kurt had offered his hopes that it would be fine tomorrow when Lord Dalton set out for London, they had almost finished eating. Blaine entered the breakfast parlor just in time to spare Kurt from having to inquire after Lady Dalton's health or compliment the tea service.
"How good of you to join us," Lord Dalton said to his son. "I was beginning to wonder what was keeping you. I see it was not that you wasted any time in dressing yourself."
Kurt's eyes widened, taking in the blue damask morning gown, the unbuttoned shirt collar. He had never seen Blaine en déshabillé before. He had never seen Blaine's neck before either, not bared à la Byron. He remembered how Miss Berry had once called Blaine the very image of the famous poet. Though the open collar heightened the resemblance to portraits of Lord Byron, Kurt thought that Blaine had the handsomer neck. It was slim but strong, with a prominent Adam's apple. The long muscles on either side looked as finely sculpted as those of a Greek statue. The neckline of Blaine's morning gown was low enough to reveal their terminus, the hollow at the base of his throat. There, never before seen or even imagined by Kurt, was a hint of dark hair. He bit his lip and stared down at his empty plate, so as not to stare elsewhere.
He heard rather than saw Blaine go to the sideboard and prepare a plate for himself. "I always wear my banyan to breakfast."
"Not when we have a guest," Lord Dalton said.
"Not when we have a lady as a guest. I hope I am not expected to treat Mr. Hummel as if he were a lady."
"I was referring to your aunt," said Lord Dalton hastily. "When she arrives I do expect that you will follow your friend's example and dress properly for breakfast." Kurt had dressed carefully in a grey jacket and a matching neckcloth before descending from his room. He had not dared to wear anything too outré while Lord Dalton was still at home.
"I will endeavor to follow his example in all things," Blaine replied. He set his plate on the table and took his seat. "Good morning, by the way, Mr. Hummel. I hope the rain did not keep you awake last night."
"It did a bit," Kurt admitted. He risked another look at Blaine, and found it easier to maintain his composure this time. The trick was to focus on his face, the features both dear and familiar. "But I am well enough this morning." The loneliness of Kurt's first night at Dalton Abbey was fading like a bad dream. He told himself that it had been nothing more than homesickness. He would be separated from his family for some time, but he could hardly regret it if each of these days were to be spent with Blaine. Nor were a few troubled nights and awkward meals too high a price to pay for his company.
"I am glad to hear it," said Blaine, buttering a roll. "Still, I am sorry about the weather. I had hoped to show you the grounds today."
Lord Dalton suggested that their guest might enjoy a tour of the house instead. "I dare say there is enough to see indoors to fill a morning," he said. "Though my tastes are simple enough, some of my late brother's ornaments are worthy of notice. Nothing compared to what you must have seen in Lady Susan's home, Mr. Hummel, but some fine pieces nonetheless."
"To be sure," Kurt murmured politely. He saw no point in explaining that he had never been invited into Lady Susan's house in Lima. While she always appeared at such local events as she felt might benefit from her criticism, she rarely entertained at home.
"We have also a few curiosities that I collected while in the Navy, if you have an interest in such things," Lord Dalton continued. "Blaine, you might show him my model ships as well. You must forgive me, Mr. Hummel, for not serving as your guide myself. I have several matters to attend to this morning." With that, he excused himself from the table.
It required no great generosity on Kurt's part to forgive his host for leaving. Curious as he was to see the rest of the Abbey, the prospect of a tour led by Blaine seemed far more appealing than one with Lord Dalton as its conductor. They still could not be completely unguarded in their behavior – such a large household must have a large staff of servants who might see or hear them – but freed from the suspicious gaze of Lord Dalton they might relax a bit.
"You did not tell me that your father constructed model ships," Kurt said. "A fascinating hobby, for those who are not bored to tears by it. What must I do to prevent you from making me look at them?"
"If you sit there and smile at me while I have my breakfast, I will not even ask you to admire the ones that I was forced to assist him with," said Blaine, tearing apart another roll. "I apologize for making you wait, but it will not take me long to eat and I'll finish dressing as quickly as I can."
"I suppose you will dress before breakfast tomorrow."
"Yes, never fear. I would have done so today, only I did not want my father to think that I had taken special care with my appearance for your sake," Blaine said. "I should have known that he would manage to find fault with me either way."
"Did you wish to take special care for my sake?" Kurt had stood before the glass for some time that morning wondering if Blaine would think that he looked well in the outfit he had chosen. How odd to think that Blaine, blessed with greater beauty of face and figure, might consider it necessary to take similar pains with his dress.
"Well, I would not have worn court dress to breakfast," said Blaine. "But I know how much you care about appearances. Do not shake your head; I saw how shocked you were when I came in wearing a banyan! I know it is terribly old-fashioned."
"My tastes are not as formal as you think," Kurt replied. "I have no objection to a morning gown worn in the morning. The banyan style is rather dated, but the fabric of yours is beautiful and the color suits you."
"It is kind of you to say so."
"I am never kind when it comes to matters of dress. I offer only my honest opinions. It is one of the few topics about which I can speak my mind freely, in any company."
"Then perhaps I should ask you what I ought to wear today," said Blaine, rising from the table. "Lest I bear the brunt of your criticism later."
"I am sure you will look well enough in whatever you choose. But if you mean to please me, wear your navy blue jacket."
Blaine paused beside Kurt's chair on his way to the door. "Because the color suits me?" he asked with a smile.
Kurt smiled up at him in return. "Yes, though not only that. The cut is also very flattering. I have always admired the way it looked on you." On the day they had met he had thought how dapper his new acquaintance looked. Kurt did not say this aloud for fear of sounding too sentimental. He knew that thinking of their first meeting would not slow the coming of the day when they must part.
Something of these thoughts must have shown in his expression, for Blaine placed his hand on Kurt's shoulder and said in a soft voice "Is there anything else I should do, if I wish to please you?"
Kurt shook his head. "Only hurry back. I am eager for you to show me everything there is to see at Dalton Abbey."