Servants Series 3

by ss9

Will Lizzie's secret become public knowledge? What is so dark about William Forest's past that he tries to hide it's very existance? And what could possibly happen to Flora and Walter now to upset the careful balance attained at the end of series 2?

2. Episode 2

The morning of the fate had arrived, though earlier than most for the footmen, who had been up since dawn after Fred had noticed in the early hours that the Marquee had collapsed on one side - he'd told Joe that it didn't look secure. All four remaining footmen dragged themselves out of bed and trudged, in an almost zombified fashion out onto the lawn at just gone half five. As if this wasn't enough to frustrate them, their patience was tested to the limit, as Johnny yet again finding a new lease of life vocally, persisted to complain about his (still) throbbing foot.

The maids were also getting an early, if not quite so early start, as they had the task of chopping up (even more) fruit as, on a taste test of the lemon curd tarts by Mrs Diggins (albeit in direct contradiction to her Weight Watchers plan), they were found to be not sweet enough, though they suspected that this wasn't quite true, as Mrs D informed them that she herself would dispose of them.

The only people getting a lie in around the Servants dwellings were for once, the senior staff, and of course Adams, who was still too intoxicated to have come round yet. On the other hand, in a repeat performance of yesterday morning, Jarvis had been awake for quite sometime, racking his brains as to the whole Flora and Felix fiasco, gently caressing the un-dented pillow next to his that Flora's sleepy-head should rightly have been resting upon. Oh how he missed the radiant vision of her asleep, to him, her beauty grew ten-fold, even though she had always protested that she wasn't at her best in the mornings. With a sigh, he decided that even though she wasn't there, there was no way he was missing her at the breakfast table, so dragged himself up, put on his best waistcoat, in the hope that this was going to be a better day.

However, when he reached the Upper Servants dining room, this better day wasn't quite true, indeed, it was more like de jar vu as Flora, Felix and Mrs Diggins were already there to greet him. For a second, as he stood in the doorway, only the first took his attention. Flora looked up and smiled at him, relieved that he had made it to breakfast, acknowledging so in saying "Good Morning Mr Jarvis, Id hoped your books would not keep you away too long"

He raised a little smile, but this was cut short as Mrs Diggins chipped in "Yes, how good of you to grace us with your presence Mr Jarvis" with a huff. At this, the smile vanished and from that point on, things were once again on a downhill slant, as Jarvis slumped down in his chair, and began chewing on a piece of crisp toast.

Cut to outside, more accurately to the lawn where the marquee has now been properly secured. With all staff present, an open-air staff meeting was being conducted by Mr Jarvis, who was desperately trying to ensure that the days events were going to go smoothly. However, this was going to be easier said than done, as there had been a number of unfortunate cases of last-minute unavailability, which meant that a few members of staff were about to get more than they had bargained for.

"Well, now that we are all clear on the schedule of events, there are a number of vacancies which I have been given orders to fill." he announced

At this, people looked around at each other, wondering what he could possibly have meant by that. Jarvis was for one of the first times a little apprehensive about issuing the tasks, as he knew that two in particular were not going to be well received.

"Mr Smith, the chief Morris dancer has informed the household that he is one show-man short, and, like all good artists, is refusing to take part, as at present, his team is not symmetrical, which by all accounts, is vital to the performance. Therefore, I have a favour to ask of you Mr Forest, as you are normally quick on your feet, that you take his place. From your resume I distinctly remember you mentioning dancing in your childhood, so would you do the honours?"

Will knew full well that he wasn't asking, so just remained silent, turning a rather distinct shade of beetroot red, even though he knew the dance history in his character was totally fictitious. Will shot a look at Adams, expecting him to be in stitches, but the Scotsman strangely remained expressionless (as Will would soon find out why). Fred couldn't believe his luck, and was as silently as Will was fuming, bursting at the seems. However, the smile was well and truly wiped of his face, as Jarvis continued ...

"Also, as we have gone a little over budget, I'm afraid that we couldn't afford to hire staff to do the Punch and Judy show. As this is always a firm favourite with the children in the village and we have our own set of equipment for such a production here, given to Lord Harry ... (he paused for a second, looking at Grace as if to say sorry) a few Christmases ago, we will put on our own version. Frederick and Joseph, I thought you'd like to try out your thespian skills for us. Of course you can choose between yourselves who will portray who".

Consoling themselves with the fact that at least their faces would be concealed, Fred and Joe launched into a 3-leg round of scissors, paper, stone. After some furious competing, Joe emerged the victor, and unsurprisingly elected to take the role of Punch, leaving Fred to put on his best high pitched voice to play Judy

If this was not humiliation enough for the male staff members, Jarvis, although he had already issued this task, couldn't resist, making it (to some extent) public knowledge. "And finally, I have a rather special task for one particular gentleman" he teased, slowly turning around to give Adams, who knew what was coming, a smug look.

"There is just one more vacancy that desperately needs filling, and I took some time in picking out a person, whom I thought most suited to the roll, who, could truly connect with the character, as it is another children's highlight. I won't give the game away Mr Adams, but I think its high time you went and prepared, as the guests will soon be arriving."

He reminded the maids to ensure that the flow of drinks would be kept constant, as today was a most gloriously sunny day, one not seen since the height of summer, and quite out of the ordinary for this early Autumn day. Finally, he turned to Mrs Ryan, who, had simply expected to be overseeing events. "Oh, I did forget one thing, I'm sorry I haven't had time to consult you on this Mrs Ryan, but would you be so kind as to read to the very youngest children? It's at Lady Caroline's request that they too be occupied, as she doesn't want them running amuck."

This was quite unexpected to say the least, and for a moment Flora, just looked at him (which he quite enjoyed, as that had not been a regular occurrence of late), but swiftly replied that she would. Secretly she was enraged - she was a housekeeper not a blasted nanny!

The meeting was dismissed with Will and Fred arguing over who would suffer the most shame, each trying to convince the other that their task was not that bad, but as adjudicator, Joe had to agree with Fred, that Will's Morris dancing would be a sight for saw eyes, adding that he wished George could be there to see it.

As the villagers began trickling into the grounds, the miniature fanfare was struck up, and all the stalls came to life. Will, was on duck shooting duty, after only half an hour, wishing that he had heeded Jarvis' advice, and stayed well back, as a stray pellet had just scuffed his cheek. Fred and Joe were meant to be looking after their stall, but had got distracted, showing of their juggling skills to two of the ladies from village. The maids were lined up inside the marquee, handing out the much improved lemon crush and various flavours of pastries and sponges.

Mrs Ryan had begun to rather enjoy her storytelling role, as her initial inhibitions melted away, as she found that the children were rather sweet. Mr Jarvis could not resist listening in on a few, in wonderment at how well she told the stories, in a very animated manner, he gazed at her fondly. However, one eye was firmly settled on Kraus who was at present helping Flora out, acting as the Big Bad Wolf, to compliment her narration. However, the Butler's attention was suddenly taken by the most satisfactory of sights, one that he could hardly contain his glee over - the sight of Andrew Adams, emerging sheepishly from the courtyard, in full clown attire!

Will trots over to Adams, a huge grin spread ear to ear as he points, throwing his head back in over-exaggerated laughter. Adams, scowling through his white and red face paint and dragging a bag full of juggling balls in one hand and a unicycle in the other, gives Will an almost murderous glare

Adams: Come near me, boy, and I'll flatten you!

Will clutching his stomach: What with! A fake kipper or smother me to death with a pie!

Adams, before even attempting to put on his baggy brightly coloured costume with oversized buttons, had downed half a bottle of whiskey without pausing for breath, waiting until the alcohol had begun to numb his senses. Instead, however, all it had done was make him unstable on his feet, as most clowns are meant to be, but also very, very, VERY depressed, which clowns are generally NOT meant to be. Still, he had thought, the children won't notice! Stupid little vermin. Flora looked up from her book about dragons, the children around her completely immersed in her storytelling. She smiled to herself, closing the book and leaning forward to talk to the children

Flora: Look over there! Who can you see?

The children all turn round in unison, their little faces lighting up as they begin jumping up and down and yelling in excitement

All: Yippee, it's a clown!

Boy 1: Oooh, he looks so silly, Mrs Ryan!

Flora chuckling: Yes, Robbie, he certainly does! Shall we go over and see what he's got in his big bag?

All the children leap up off the grass, skipping and jumping over to Adams who is standing, arms folded and looking in a foul mood, near to where Fred and Joseph are setting up the Punch and Judy. Seeing that the little brats are heading his way, he adjusts his fake flower so that he can give any of them who get on his nerves a good squirt of water right in the eye.

Jarvis walking up behind Adams and bending in to whisper: Be nice, now, and smile, don't want you frightening the poor little souls.

Adams forcing a grimace and muttering: Them frightened of me? I think you've got it the wrong way round, Mr Jarvis.

Boy 2 running energetically up to Adams and wrapping his small arms around Adams' waist, nearly pulling him over: Oooh I love clowns, they're my favourite! Can I see your flower, Mr Clown, can I, can I!

Mrs Ryan her gaze fixed on Adams who is growing redder through his make-up, she gently directs the boy away to sit on the grass with the others: Come on now, Timmy, sit down, I'm sure you'll get to see the flower later.

Timmy releases Adams, who is inches away from bopping the child on the head with his oversized glove, and waves frantically at him, beaming his little head off as he sits cross-legged on the grass. Adams, growling, catches Jarvis' eye who then shakes his head at Adams mouthing 'play nice'

Adams swaying slightly as his giant boots flop around, stretches his arms out and reluctantly smiles brightly at the eager faces: Ho, ho, children, my name is…. McClown!

Grace nudging Susan and standing on her tip-toes to get a good look at the under-butler making a fool of himself: Colin? What sort of name is that for a clown!

Adams: Can I have a volunteer please!

Twelve eager hands shot up, pleading and hopeful looks on their faces

Adams winking: I only choose the very, very good boys and girls.

The children stop shouting 'me, me me!' and sit very neatly and silently, their arms still firmly in the air. In a moment of kindness, (which Adams completely derided himself for later, disgusted with himself) he points to Timmy to come and join him at the front. Yelping with delight, little Timmy the cobbler's son springs to his little feet and trots over to Adams, sheer delight radiating from him.

Adams bends down to talk to Timmy but tries not to get too close for fear of little Timmy suddenly bursting out 'you smell like daddy does when he's been to the pub' or something to that effect

Adams loud enough so everyone can hear: So, Timothy, how old are you?

Timmy grinning and pointing at a little wooden badge pinned proudly to his jacket: I'm five today, Mr McClown sir!

Adams patting him GENTLY on the head: Five! Well, well, you ARE becoming a big fellow, aren't you, son?

Timmy blushes, hugging himself and swinging from side to side

Adams: Do you like flowers, Timmy?

Timmy nodding frantically: Yes, they're pretty!

Kraus To Flora: Oh, he's not going to drench the poor boy is he?

Mrs Ryan, unable to answer, just looks worriedly over at Adams. There wasn't a lot they could do but watch

Adams: I want you to check up my sleeves – can you see anything?

Timmy Peering up Adams' sleeves with extreme curiosity as the other children all lean forward equally interested: I can only see your arms, Mr McClown, sir!

Adams: Tap my right arm.

Confused, but not about to disobey the instructions of a professional, Timmy does as asked then stands back. Adams, grinning at the sheer simplicity of their enjoyment, reaches up his right sleeve then quick as lightening whips out a bunch of fake brightly coloured flowers. Timmy and the other children smile and clap, giggling away as Flora and Kraus breathe a sigh of relief. So far, so good.

Timmy in wonderment: How did you do that!

Adams winking again, tapping his nose: Ah, a clown never reveals his secret, m'laddie!

For his next trick, Adams pulls a long string of handkerchiefs from his left sleeve – so long that Timmy has to keep pulling and pulling until a small glimpse of boredom creeps over the five-year-old's face. Noticing this, and that the other children have started to chatter amongst themselves, Adams realises its probably time for the unicycle, though not before he can sneak another gulp or two of alcohol.

At first he doesn't know how to tackle it. The unicycle seems most unstable and George and Will has to hold onto it just so he can attempt to step up and try to seat himself on top of it. His vision has already begun to blur after downing more whiskey than he anticipated behind the Punch and Judy tent while the children were distracted by Mrs Stanwick (of the peacock variety) bounding across the lawn, but as it squawked off into the distance again the children had begun chanting for 'McClown' to come back to entertain them further. Building up his resolve, and firmly ignoring the jibes from Will and hysterical laughter from George, he leans0 on them and hurls himself upwards, precariously balancing on the seat. Why oh why hadn't Jarvis given him time to practice? One glance at Jarvis, standing at the edge of the spectacle and looking highly amused, gave him his answer. What Jarvis doesn't know, of course, is that Adams is absolutely intoxicated and can hardly stand on his own to (currently ginormous) feet let alone pedal on a one-wheeled contraption with no handlebars let alone breaks. Will and George suddenly let go, without warning, and dash out of the way before Adams can come crashing down on either of them

Adams alarmed, his legs peddling fast: Come back here, you litte…….!

he then remembers he's supposed to be entertaining, not vulgar, and tries his best to smile at the applauding children and their parents through his anxiety and spinning vision. He pedals backwards and forwards a couple of times, attempting to get the hang of it, but he is momentarily interrupted by George running up to him, juggling balls in his grasp

George: Here, Mr Adams, catch! They'll love it if you can keep these up too!

He tosses the balls one by one at Adams, who scrambles to catch them but fails apart from three. Sweat dripping down his face and smudging his make-up, Adams instability appears to be increasing as he tries to divide his concentration between maintaining his balance and clumsily throwing and catching the balls. The children, thinking this is all part of the act, are giggling and pointing, Timmy still at the front

Timmy: You're a silly clown! He's all sweaty, mummy!

But Adams is barely able to hear the children's cries, his heart is beating so loudly in his ears. The balls begin to get smaller and smaller as his vision begins to fail completely, his legs are completely numb and his brain is slowing as the alcohol begins to take effect. He can just make out Will laughing and slapping his thigh in the distance, but he is sweating so hard water was dripping into his eyes. His hands are drenched in the gloves, which are sticking to him and preventing him from getting a good grip on the balls, and his head is so hot in his wig he thought it was about to explode. Now that WOULD be a trick.

Adams trying to call out, but his voice faint and broken: I can't keep this up….can't…..must stop…..going to….fall……right…..now……

Suddenly it all went black as he tumbles from the unicycle, crashing to the ground as the balls scatter and the children leap back, confused and upset. Timmy, at the front, bursts into tears and begins to sob as his mother comforts him, but this only triggers off the other children and soon they are blubbing and wailing. Jarvis, sighing and completely bored with having to help Adams out of his self-created situations, hurries over to him and turns him over on the grass as Kraus and Flora come up behind him. Adams is a sorry sight – his wig is crushed and askew, his make-up smudged right up his face so his bright red mouth is merged with his blackened eyes, there is a tear in his outfit and one of the buttons is hanging off. Jarvis slaps Adams on the face hard, trying to avoid being covered in paint, but it takes a couple of attempts and a bucket of cold water gladly provided by Will to bring the drunken clown round. He opens his eyes a crack, sunlight streaming in and blinding him, but he is able to recognise Jarvis' form leaning over him. Oh, how he wishes it had all been a terrible, tortured nightmare, instead of a brutal, depressing reality.

Jarvis shaking him hard: Mr Adams! Then on seeing the small children sniffling and looking on in disbelief I mean, Mr McClown! Wakey-wakey!

Adams waving his arm in the air towards Timmy and the others: Urggh! Get them away from me! Horrible little sods!

The children begin to wail even louder, Timmy burying his face into his mother's stomach

Timmy: He's horrible, mummy, I don't like him any more! He's a rubbish clown!

Adams half sitting up, his head thumping and his body aching: Oh, shut up, yer whingey wee beggar! Go get some balls, and I don't mean the juggling kind!

Timmy, through his tears, pulls his tongue at Adams as his mother mutters something about 'not coming here to be insulted' as Flora attempts to apologise to her and the other parents on Adams' behalf, although she knows it's useless

Jarvis smacking Adams back down and whispering harshly: Andrew, stop being a nasty idiot! I can't believe you've been drinking while talking to children, that's just completely unacceptable and irresponsible behaviour!

Adams baulking and coughing: Oh, you can sod off too. Didn't see you volunteering to do this stupid job!

Jarvis, disgusted, stands up and gives him a hard kick, ordering him to his feet, but before Adams can drag himself up he hurls and vomits all over Jarvis' nicely polished shoes. Jarvis, in an absolute rage, grabs Adams by the scruff of the neck and heaves him up, waving at the parents to get their children out of the area so they're not scarred for life

Jarvis pushing an unstable, swaying Adams in front of him along the lawn and back up towards the house: Come with me, you revolting excuse for a man! You can clean yourself up in cold water!

Adams, feeling too sick to respond, merely groans as Jarvis drags him through the courtyard and inside. Once in the servants quarters, he shoves him down into a chair, where Adams just slumps and rolls his head back. Neither of them notice Flora hovering silently in the doorway, a look of concern on her face as she gazes at her estranged lover

Jarvis slapping Adams' face again to keep him awake: I would teach you a lesson if you weren't so pathetic and defenceless, now I'll give you one minute then you can make sure you're presentable by this evening! I will talk to you when you're at least half sober – I should damn well sack you on the spot!

Jarvis knows it's useless. Adams is now snoring gently, vomit and face paint covering his face and outfit. Jarvis' only consolation is that Lizzie isn't in the room to see her father in such a revolting state. Giving Adams one last sharp shove with his foot and tutting in disgust, he turns to leave but is taken aback to see Flora in his way.

Jarvis avoiding eye contact: Mrs Ryan

Flora desperate for eye contact: Mr Jarvis

Jarvis: Have you seen Mr Forest? I want him to help clean up Mr Adams.

Flora shaking her head: He's gone into town, something to do with picking up socks for the Earl before he returns. I'll ask Mr Matkin to do the honours, poor man.

Jarvis attempting a polite smile: You were very good with those children when you read to them, I was…impressed.

Flora attempting humour to alleviate some tension: Thank you, but I think anyone would look good compared to Mr Adams' exploits today.

They continue to stand in silence for a long, awkward moment, neither wanting to leave, but neither wanting to stay. All Flora wants to do is tell Walter what a stupid, arrogant fool he has been, pull him close and kiss him until they are too exhausted to continue, but her pride prevented her from doing so this time. No tears, she vows, no tantrums, no telling him just how much she loves and misses him. Jarvis meanwhile is still boiling over with rage at her and Kraus, but is managing to suppress it quite well considering Adams' behaviour. How could she be so insensitive to his feelings? Maybe it WAS true, he had been a bit of physical interest for her and that's it. He knows, deep down, that she's not that sort of woman, but her closeness to Felix is disturbing him far more than he thought possible. He longs for her touch, her tenderness, and her fingers through his hair, the softness of her lips on his, but his stubbornness keeps this thought firmly in his mind only. With a nod of the head, he slips past her, leaving her with the unsightly view of Adams dribbling into his collar
End Scene

Cut to Will walking down the main approach road to the house, cursing the fact it was he who was chosen to go into town on such short notice, and on such an enjoyable occasion. However, he comforted himself with the fact he'd have walked to Land's End and back in order to see the dastardly Mr Adams making a complete (drunken) idiot out of himself - but he knew that to ask for him to be in fancy dress next time was too just much - that had been a once in a life time experience! Although, having said that, he'd have to relive the whole joyous event when George returned - he wasn't going to believe what he just missed thought Will, grinning like a Cheshire cat at that prospect of putting his own spin on the already hilarious situation.

He continued down the lane towards Tappelton, the near-by town, thinking of everything and then, periodically nothing at all, as he enjoyed escaping Taplows. Suddenly, he realised that this was not all he would be escaping, as following the havoc caused by Mr Adams, Mr Kraus had been temporally flustered and cleanly forgot the favour Mr Jarvis had asked (or rather told) Will to do. Indeed, the footman was positively skipping with delight (gaining him a strange look from a passer-by, riding a horse and cart), when the thought occurred to him that he had been spared the humiliation of a Morris dancing spectacle.

This grin could only grow as he returned to the image of Adams' face smeared with white, red and black face paint, just after Will had had the honour of soaking him with a bucket of water - that was a sight he would not forget in a hurry! He chuckled to himself almost all the remaining distance until, when his feet began to hurt, and he once again criticised the trivial nature of his errand. 'Socks, bloody socks!' he grimaced to himself, surely this wasn't an urgent matter! Anyway, it was widely known that his lordship had worn the same three grubby pairs of socks for years on end (albeit in a set rota), so why the sudden rush to get new ones? 'To make my life just that little bit better', he concluded, in a sarcastic tone of course.

However, this could not dampen his mood today, it had been a fine occasion, apart from the stray 'shoot the duck' pellet which had scuffed his cheek, which, on remembering, he rubbed gently, checking there'd be no permanent blemish on his face, surrendering once again to vanity.

He called in to J.Harvey's, the small fabric shop, to pick up the socks which the Earl had ordered. Now this, as many supposedly simple things, was easier said than done, as one of the pairs, Will was about to discover, was odd, and odd in the best sense of the word, as one sock was actually a red and green polka-dot design. Will tried to point out that they were hardly dignified for a man of the Earl's stature, and after much deliberation with the elderly shop clerk, it was agreed that that particular pair would be refashioned at no extra cost.

Following that rather absurd confrontation, Will decided that if Adams could drink himself silly whilst on duty and still manage (miraculously) to keep his job, then surely no-one would notice if he slipped into the 'Cock and Bull' for a quick pint. Resisting temptation of a second, he began to continue down the road, but on seeing Peter, one of the summer gardeners at Taplows, Will was persuaded (with not much arm twisting from his former colleague) to reconsider.

On entering the den of iniquity, they discovered half of Tappleton's male population had had the same idea, assuming them to be husbands who were dis-interested in attending the fate with their wives and children, which many of them were. Will, spying a table over in the corner quickly went and occupied it, whilst Peter got the first round in. Will perched himself on the stool and slumped against the wall behind him. 'I know, I know' he said to himself, 'I only said the one, but if the man wants to buy me a drink, so be it, and it would be most rude of me not to return the favour!', trying to justify his actions. Will closed his eyes and tilted his head back to rest on the wall, it had been a long day, especially with the whole Marquee fiasco.

He was brought back to the present by Peter placing a cold pint of apple cider in front of him - heaven thought Will. Peter sat down on the stool next to him, and mimicked his leaning against the wall, he had had a long day too. For the next ten minutes, the men sat there, sipping their pints and talking about recent events at Taplows. Peter had much to be filled in on, as last time he was at the old house, Mrs Stanwick, the REAL Mrs Stanwick was still there. Her shenanigans kept them both amused for a good while, with Peter nearly choking on his pint when Will told him about Adams and the notoriously feisty housekeeper.

After thoroughly recalling the woman's lustful antics with the male staff, they soon found they were in need on another glass, and this time it was Will who had to put his hand in his pocket. Leaving his companion still shaking his head over such revelations, Will ventured to the bar. After standing in line for a few moments, Will was tapped on the shoulder and asked "So this is where you've been hiding is it?" by a voice that chilled him to his very core.

He didn't need to turn around, neither did he want to, as he'd vowed never seen that man's face again, instead, he lowered his elbows with a thud onto the bar and held his head in his hands absolutely devastated by this most unexpected turn of events. Any hope Will had of him being mistaken or that it had simply been his own imagination, were shattered as the body to whom the voice belong, had, in a paralytic drunken state (one that would rival even Mr Adams as his most horrid), dragged itself onto one of the tables (much to the annoyance of those trying to play cards on it) and announced to the entire ensemble:

"I wu-wu-would like to introduce to you, my friends (as which there as a chorus of sneers, as no one even knew who he was) ... my son" he slurred, indicating to Will, but holding his arm out such a distance that he lost his balance and fell head first off of the table, gaining him a round of applause. This was too much for a mortified Will to bear, and without paying for the two ciders that had just been placed in front of him, he fled, running for his life, literally he feared.

Meanwhile, back at Taplows, as it was Mr Kraus who issued the order to release Will (as both Mr J and Mrs R were occupied with Adams), Mr J decided (giving himself some satisfaction in the process) that Mr Kraus should be the one to make up the Morris dancing octet. At first, Felix refused to take any part in it, huffing and stamping his feet, as he was reminded by Jarvis that had he not dismissed Will, he would not be in this situation. His hesitations were eased as Flora used her powers of persuasion, telling him to take it one step at a time, and to at least try the costume on.

The latter proved to be quite a hit with the Chef, as he emerged form the changing tent with a smile on his face, fussing with the ribbons trailing off his right sleeve. He walked over to Jarvis and Flora, who was holding his hat, which she carefully placed on his head, much to the annoyance of Walter. This exasperation soon lifted, as Mr Smith beckoned Felix over to go through a few moves. Before leaving, Felix turned to Flora, giving her a rather scared 'here we go' look. Sensing he was more than slightly nervous, the housekeeper took his hands (a move that startled an already on edge Jarvis), shaking them firmly, and ensuring him "It'll be fine Felix. Go, show them what you're made of!"

He gave a last nervous look at Jarvis, who had no such words of comfort for his friend, as he was thoroughly enjoying this, once Flora had let go of his hands obviously. Jarvis stood, arms folded, tilting back slightly, waiting for the show of shame to begin. As Felix turned and walked towards Mr Smith, he caught sight of Will storming across the lawn, straight passed him. "Uh, Mr Forrest, where on earth are the socks?"

Will, only partly emerged from his enraged trance replied angrily "Socks, what bloody socks?"

Quite taken-aback at the way he was being spoken to, but in the knowledge that he hadn't the time to kick up a tantrum, Felix continued "Yes, the socks I sent you into Tappleton for, the reason why I and not you, am about to make a spectacle of myself!"

"Oh just sod the bloody socks, will you!" Will barked, setting off towards the house, his Lordships socks weren't even on his agenda at the moment, there were for more pressing issues.

Momentarily, Kraus stood in shock, dumbstruck at the disrespect shown by the supposedly 'First' Footman. However, any animosity he may have felt towards Will was soon forgotten, as when Felix Kraus got into the swing of things, he did it in the best sense of the word. The Prussian picked up the steps as quickly as one who had undergone years of practise. Indeed, as Mr Smith later commented, he was a natural.

At present, his gallant efforts were being rapturously applauded by Flora, who was standing on the sidelines, nudging Jarvis with her elbow, gesturing excitedly towards Kraus who was well and truly in the thick of things. A small part of Walter was quite impressed with his former confidant's performance, but he was more concerned with the impression he was having on his beloved Flora, as she continued to be swept away (further he feared from him) with festivities.

Cut to the courtyard, where Will is steaming across it, faster than a locomotive. He threw open the side door, the entrance to the scullery, the same one from which Lizzie was at the same moment, attempting to leave the Kitchen via, her hands full with trays of tarts, which were soon to be out of her hands, though much earlier than she expected.

Will crashed into her with a thud, sending the trays flying, clattering to the ground. 'Okay, its just an accident, no big problem' Lizzie tried to convince herself. But before she could open her mouth to voice this aloud, she noticed that Will had not even stopped to help her pick the things up. Unable to tolerate this rudeness from one she thought so much of, she though 'stuff the tarts', picking up her dress and petticoat, and storming off after Will, she was going to get an apology at least.

"William Forrest, you get right back here, you can't just leave me like this, they're ruined!" she hollered after him. At first Will just kept on going, but then Lizzie grabbed hold of his arm, using her whole weight as an anchor, with which to slow him down. However, to her horror, in his attempt to shake her off, she half tripped, half was knocked to the floor. It was only at this that Will ground to a halt. He looked down at her as she struggled to her feet, and his face fell, what had he just done?

Lizzie looked up at him, not in fear, but in complete and utter surprise, finally managing to gasp with a hint of venom "I don't know what the hell has gotten into you, but don't you EVER do that again!" Shaking her head as she turned to leave.

"He's only bloody here Lizzie!" Will exclaimed, letting slip.

At this, Lizzie swung round to face him, her jaw dropped. She was used to the way in which he referred to his father, so knew exactly who he was on about. "What do you mean he's here! Is he at the fate?" she questioned him abruptly as she was not prepared to forget what had just happened in an instant.

"He's in the pub, in the village, I just saw him!"

Lizzie was about to rant at him for drinking on duty, as that was her father's downfall, but instead she enquired "Are you quite sure?"

"Never more so, I didn't even have to look at him, I could smell his stench at 10 paces, and when he spoke, there was no shadow of a doubt!"

Now things had fallen into place, Lizzie noticed that Will was twitching rather nervously and uncontrollably.

"Well, what did he say?" she asked timidly, not sure she would like the answer, as Will himself was clearly rattled.

"What did he say! Do you seriously think I stayed around for that?" Will sneered, screwing his face up.

Deciding that if this was his attitude, she was not going to continue on the subject, but felt she had to say something. The best she could come up with was "Well I see you've managed to return sock-less, well done." she asserted, without even a hint of sarcasm.

"Oh don't you start!(obviously not having seen Mr Kraus in action) That poor excuse for a stand-in Morris dancer has already pointed that one out." he snapped.

"You mean you just left them there?" Lizzie persisted.

"Well if their not here, and their not at the shop, then yeah, I left them there, alright!" he scolded patronisingly.

Deciding she'd had enough of this, Lizzie retorted furiously "Well someone's going to have to go and get them, and as the atmosphere around here has suddenly become a lot less agreeable, I'd gladly volunteer for the job!" as she moved to leave.

Will, grabbing HER arm this time, prevented her from doing so. In a reflex action, her head turned sharply back towards Will as she shot him a 'don't you dare/let go of me' stare, at which he relaxed his grip.

"No Liz!" he pleaded, softening his voice, desperately trying to build bridges and convince her that that was not a good idea. He realised he'd captured her attention, so continued with his plight. "Liz, I don't want you going anywhere near the place, do you hear me?" he question, taking her left cheek in his free hand.

"Its not safe, please, I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you!" in a slight tone of desperation

"Don't you worry, I can look after myself" she replied in a rather ambiguous tone, that Will could just not fathom, giving him a stare of assurance. She wrestled her arm free, walked back down the corridor, straight through the pile of spoiled pastries on the floor and out of the door, without looking back. Will, not knowing what to do with himself, started out to follow her, but quickly realised this wasn't a good idea, SURELY she had heeded his words. He wished this was true as he slid down the corridor wall and began to despondently pick up the trodden tarts.

The next morning the staff rose early once more despite the fact that many of them had not gotten to bed the right side of midnight, even for those who had retired early a good night sleep had not been guaranteed. Will relieved that Lizzie had not made it into town yesterday due to the intervention of Mrs Ryan was still worried she would make another attempt. On top of this was the constant nagging fear that today, tomorrow or the next day that no good wastrel of a father would drag his sorry carcass out of the cock and bull long enough to stumble across the fields to Taplow's.

However he was not alone in his dawn musings, many of the senior staff were also suffering from this strange insomnia. Mr Adams had woken early once more the recipient of a Herculean strength hangover. He had managed to stagger along to the bathroom, and after gulping down a few mouthfuls of water he thrust his head into a basin full of cold water, and for a few moments considered not coming back up for air. However just as he was gasping for breath his courage failed and he sat down hard on the floor, his head in his hands and his hangover pounding in his ears.

Down the corridor Mr Jarvis was once more awake and alone, swinging his feet out of his bed he grabbed his dressing gown and strode down the corridor towards Flora's room. He paused outside, his hand resting on the handle, should he go in? Surely it should be her who made the first move, after all he had done nothing wrong; he stood frozen on the spot unable to make a decision then hearing voices down the end of the corridor he quickly moved away heading for the bathroom. On opening the door he spotted Mr Adams asleep against one of the sinks snoring loudly the remnants of his clown makeup visible round his ears and chin. Jarvis smiled and walking over to the sinks he filled a large jug full of cold water, standing back he threw the contents directly into Adams's face, Adams's so shocked at being woken so quickly tried to get up but ended up banging his head on the edge of the basin.

"Wakey Wakey Mr Adams!" Crowed Jarvis evilly, "After all you have a long day ahead of you, and you can start by powdering your wig"

Adams vision slowly cleared as he rubbed his now even sorer head, "What was that sir?"

Jarvis shook his head, the man was even denser than he thought possible, "You need to powder your wig Mr Adams!"

Adams frowned his confusion evident, "But I don't have wig? Do I?"

Jarvis's smile broadened "You do now Mr Adams. I warned you what would happen if you stepped out of line again, so as from today you and William Forest will be swapping posts, so I suggest you go try on your new livery!"

Then giving the now fuming Adams the once over he added "I suspect it will be a little on the small side, however beggars can't be choosers can they Mr Adams, think of it this way it will be an admirable incentive for you to cut down on the alcohol and actually loose some of that paunch." With that Jarvis turned and swept back down the corridor to his room leaving the now crimson Adams to crawl back to his dreading the arrival of the morning.

For the rest of the senior staff the early morning passed relatively uneventfully, for Mrs Ryan the only black spot was Walters recurring absence from the breakfast table, and despite reassuring herself that he was the only one to blame for his juvenile behaviour she was still worried that he was once more neglecting himself. Deciding to deal with one problem at a time she went to the kitchen and cajoled Felix into helping put together a quick breakfast for Mr Jarvis, which despite his grumbling the chef reluctantly did. Once the meal was ready Flora covered it over and headed off in the direction of Walter's office, pausing only briefly in the lower servants hall to ascertain what was the cause of their hilarity. Poking her head round the door she caught snatches of conversation.

"I know he's practically bursting out of it!" Fred bellowed

"I bet Will's enjoying himself, I heard him say next he's going to have him scrubbing up the silver till it shines like the midday sun!" Added Susan.

Flora glanced around looking for Mr Adams but alas the under butler was once more absent from his duties, sighing she turned and headed back down the corridor paying little attention to a footman busy struggling to pick up all the dirty laundry they had dropped from an already overflowing basket. It wasn't until she noticed William Forest standing over the poor unfortunate wretch, broad grin on his face and out of his green livery that she paused to look more carefully. Mr Adams sighed deeply and pushed his itching wig firmly out of his eyes, the only thing stopping him from upending the pile of dirty washing on top of the that smug little monster's head was the knowledge that Will would probably make him pick everything up with his teeth afterwards. So instead he bit his tongue and did his best to ignore the jibes of his former subordinate, that was when he noticed Mrs Ryan standing a few yards away an expression of both malice and delight flittering alternatively across her face before she turned away and entered Mr Jarvis's office.

Upon entering Flora noticed paper strewn all over Walter's desk, he however was not sitting there but in his fireside easy chair reading his mail. Carefully she walked over to the table and cleared a space to set the tray down in, turning once more to face Walter who had so far failed to acknowledge her presence. Slowly she walked over to him and sinking to the floor sat down expectantly in front of him, when after what seemed like eternity he still gazed off into space ignoring her she leant forward and snatched the letter out of his hands.

"Flora!" He exclaimed startled seeing her there for the first time.

"Walter?"

"I didn't see you come in!"

"I'd noticed that, how long have you been sitting here?"

"I don't know ever since the post came, have I missed breakfast?"

"Yes by about half an hour you really should try and make the effort to come the others are starting to talk!"

Jarvis stood suddenly and pushed past her stalking to the window his arms folded moodily, "Let them!"

"Do you really mean that? Don't you realize the damage your doing to your own reputation through your current behavior?"

However once more Jarvis failed to answer her preferring to gaze distracted out of the window, in desperation Flora opened his letter and began to read.

Dear Walter,
I am trying to be understanding of your continued reluctance to visit either your father or myself. As Butler I am sure you have many pressing demands in your time and many important urgent tasks to undertake, however surely the duties of a son outweigh the majority of these? I am writing once more to stress the seriousness of your father's condition the doctors are now saying that he has merely weeks now if not days left with us. Surely you can be spared from your position for a short period there is so much that needs to be said and so little time left available. If you cannot bring yourself to do it for either your father or yourself, please spare a thought for me I would break my heart if the pair of you do not at least attempt a reconciliation.
Please consider my words carefully; I'm sure you will come to a decision that both your conscience and duty can be reconciled too.
Please write soon,
Your Loving Mother.

Flora let the letter drop from her hand into her lap, slowly she stood up and walked towards Walter. She hesitated only for a moment before wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his shoulders. "Oh Walter I'm so sorry I had no idea things were so bad!"

Jarvis sighed leaning back into her embrace and for the first time since opening his mother's letter he felt calm and centred, grasping her hands and unlocking them from around him he turned round and drew her back into a proper hug practically crushing her against his chest burying his head in her hair. For a few moments they stood held safe in the others arms, but then Jarvis released her and slumped back down into his desk chair his head in his hands.

"What am I going to do?"

"You have to go Walter, I know you, you'd never forgive yourself if you didn't at least try to put things right!"

"But after all that has happened how do I know anything will have changed?"

"You'll never know if you don't at least try!" She said softly smoothing his hair soothingly away from his face.

Jarvis sat back and grasping her hand raised it to his lips placing soft kisses on her knuckles before threading his fingers through hers. "Are you always right?"

"Most of the time!" She said nodding her head determinedly, which caused Walter to smile up at her.

"So what do you suggest?" He asked tentatively.

"I think you should go and see your father Walter, but before that I think you should eat your breakfast before it gets cold!"

Smiling and feeling happier than he had in days despite the bad news contained in his letter Walter picked up his knife a fork and started to tuck in, his appetite making a miraculous and well-timed return. For a few minutes they sat in an easy silence whilst he made quick work of his scrambled eggs and bacon, only pausing occasionally to look up from his plate to gaze at Flora.

When he had finished she leant forward and picked up the now empty plate, "Well I'm sure Felix will be pleased you finished it, he was convinced that you'd find fault with that too, personally I think he's more worried you'd start wasting away!" However she paused when Walter got suddenly to his feet throwing his napkin down sharply onto the table. "What's wrong now?"

Jarvis turned and paced to the window his face like thunder before wheeling back around. "You can tell your precious Felix from me that its no wonder nobody is eager to attend mealtimes in this place considering the negative associations that go hand in hand with every dish served!"

"Walter…."

"No there is no need to explain Mrs Ryan it was after all my mistake I shouldn't have expected you have taken time out of your busy schedule to make me breakfast, but instead you add insult to injury by getting your fancy man to prepare my special tray for me."

"Walter you are being ridiculous, he's the chef!"

"Apparently so but I'm sorry there are something's any real man could not stomach and that is being made into the butt of someone else's joke!"

Exasperated Flora turned to leave but before she could open the door Jarvis added, "that's it you go ahead, go on run back to the kitchen I'm sure he'll want to hear all about it!"

Angry and hurt by his accusations Flora turned round once more to face him and before she could stop herself blurted out "You know Walter its no wonder you can't even get on with your own family if this is the way you treat your own friends!"

Jarvis stepped backwards as if slapped but before she could apologise he advanced towards his face contorted with hurt and rage. "How would you know anything about me or my family it's none of your business and in my opinion families are very overrated much I might add like some former friends of mine. Personally I'm very glad I've had the chance to reconsider things and with any luck I'll now be spared the unending torture of having one of my own!"

Flora backed away from him, tears threatening to fall as she flung open the door and stormed off down the corridor leaving a both an angry and despondent Jarvis in her wake.

It was after 11 o'clock before anyone saw Flora again. She had dashed straight from Jarvis' room to her own, slamming her door behind her and leaning up against it as if she were exhausted from running, her breathing heavy and her sobbing caught in her chest and throat. How could he have said such a thing to her, she had wondered. Did she not know this man at all? Was he so mean and cold that he would expose her weakness - a weakness such as wanting children - and pour scorn on it? She had suddenly felt more alone in the world than she ever had done before, and she was sure that their relationship must this time be over. He obviously didn't love her any more, if he ever had done, and it was now she felt she needed Felix's company more than ever. But even though she knew he would soon come looking for her, she wasn't ready to face him quite yet. She had sat herself down slowly on her bed, and although she knew she had a lot of paperwork to catch up on she could hardly face picking up her quill. The book from Italy had sat gathering dust on her bedside table for the past few nights - it had made her feel closer to Walter during these confusing days and even now she wasn't ready to consign it to her bookshelf without a few more chances to flick through it. She stared hard at it through her tears, as if it were about to give her an answer; a solution to this whole sorry mess. Feeling exhausted, even though the day had barely begun, she had fallen backwards onto the bed, sobbing to herself and pining for the child - and the man – it seemed she would never have. Soon she had fallen fast asleep.

Now it was ten past 11, and the house had been in full swing for nearly four hours. There is much chattering in the servants hall as to Mrs Ryan's whereabouts, and rumours were flying round that her and Mr Jarvis had had ANOTHER blazing row, this time something to do with scrambled egg, but the rumours have gotten so out of proportion that the final word before Mrs Ryan appears is that Mrs Ryan had ended up hurling Jarvis' plate across his bedroom before screaming at him that he was no good in bed, or anywhere else for that matter, and that maybe he hadn't had enough practice over the years. Susan and Grace are sniggering about this latest development in the rumour mill while slowly making jam when Mrs Ryan appears in the doorway, her eyes no longer red but her face still as if she had lost a pound but found tuppence. Their surprise is obvious as they shut up at once and begin concentrating hard on the job in hand, but Flora storms into the room and stares in horror at the jam

Flora hands on hips, her skirts swinging: What on EARTH are you girls doing!

Grace and Susan both stop squeezing their tubes, backing away slightly from the table

Susan in small voice: M….making jam, Mrs Ryan.

Flora: Yes, I can see that, thank you Susan, but this is apricot, is it not!

Grace: Yes, you said yesterday……….

Flora snatching up a completed pot of apricot jam and shoving it in Grace's startled face: I said STRAWBERRY jam yesterday, Grace May! STRAWBERRY, not apricot! We've got damn apricot jam coming out of our ears without you two silly little girls making more of the stuff and filling up the cupboard space! How much apricot jam do you think the Earl and Lady Caroline can eat!

Grace and Susan's absolute horror at Mrs Ryan's completely unjustified outburst causes them to stand helplessly, dumbfounded, while she continued her ranting. Only Susan notices the small group of on-lookers who are gathering in the doorway, including Will, the recently returned George, Adams and Johnny. Nobody has seen her like this since the segregated meal times fiasco back before the Cumberland trip

Flora slamming the jar down hard on the table and causing the two trembling girls to jump: I will not have my staff disobeying my orders and then laughing about it behind my back!

Susan attempting to defend her and Grace: Mrs Ryan, we…..

Flora Her expression full of hate and fury: I have not finished talking, Susan! Do you lack manners as well as brains! Susan shuts her mouth again, eyes falling on her useless preserve I will not tolerate it! You two disgust me, completely disregarding everything I said to you yesterday – I even pointed out which strawberries you should use!

Grace: We thought you pointed to apricots, Mrs Ryan, we didn't see…..

Flora suddenly beginning to scoop up the half made jam and carrying it over to a large waste bag in the corner of the room: So you are blind, as well as ignorant, well why on earth do I keep you on then? Maybe I should sack both of you on the spot!

Flora dumps the jam into the bag, including the jam making equipment, and then before the girls can even comment she grabs them both forcefully by an arm each and drags them both through the assembled crowd and out towards the larder where the strawberries had been placed temporarily.

Flora seizing a large punnet from a shelf and dumping it in front of the girls: THESE are strawberries! Now I want you to work until your fingers hurt making as much jam as you can, we got through a lot of the stuff at the fete. Do I make myself completely clear this time!

Grace and Susan: Yes, Mrs Ryan.

Flora coming up close to them and lowering her voice: And if I catch you two disobeying me again I will have you, no fear! Now get to work before I……

Jarvis approaching them and standing a little distance away, but not letting on whether the staff have filled him in on events: Mrs Ryan, can I see you for a moment?

Before waiting for her to respond to his obviously rhetorical question, he swings round, his jacket flying out behind him as he marches away. Flora glances from Susan to Grace's weary faces, then turns and follows Jarvis leaving them standing by the strawberries. They look at each other in complete frustration

Grace shaking her head: She pointed to apricots, I'm sure of it! She just went mental for no reason!

Susan picking a strawberry out of the punnet and eating it: She SO did. I reckon it's because she's not getting any from Mr Jarvis at the moment. She's just a daft old spinster and I feel sorry for Mr Jarvis having to put up with her – no wonder he's dumped her!

Cut to Jarvis' office. Without any pleasantries, Jarvis begins to talk to Flora in a business-like manner as she stares at him, her hands clasped firmly in front of her

Jarvis leaning back against his desk: It seems that there are rumours…..rumours that Lord and Lady Fiffington-Piffles may not be as genuine as the Earl originally thought. Lady Caroline, as you know, had a visit this morning from her lady friend The Baroness Trumpington, and as I was serving the tea the Baroness hinted that Lord Fiffington-Piffles is, one might say, being not inconsiderably dishonest with the money he is meant to be investing. There are rumours all over London, it appears, where he is supposedly preparing to leave for India in the next couple of months.

Flora in snappy tone: Does the Earl know about this?

Jarvis raising his eyebrows, genuinely surprised at her harshness: I don't think so, Mrs Ryan.

Flora sharply, as if Jarvis were being completely unreasonable: Well, shouldn't you alert him to it?

Jarvis shaking his head, puzzled: I'm sorry, but it's not my place to do that, you know that! I am all seeing and not hearing remember.

Flora sarcasm creeping into her tone as she roughly folds her arms in an almost confrontational manner: Well, we had just better wait and see if His Lordship has been wiped out then, shouldn't we! You're very good at just sitting round doing nothing about a situation!

Jarvis moving closer to Flora: Flor…..Mrs Ryan, please! I'm trying to talk to you about a very sensitive and possibly very worrying state of affairs, can't you put aside your animosity for one minute and be professional about this?

Flora: I don't know why you would want my opinion on the matter, Mr Jarvis. You seem to be able to make your mind up about such problems without talking to me about it. Why don't you talk to your new under-butler Mr Forest? There's another matter you failed to discuss with me first!

Jarvis Ignoring the last comment, realising that this is neither the time nor the place to discuss William's appointment: I will endeavour to find out more information, write to my contacts in London, and Lady Caroline is due to see the Earl now he has returned from Cornwall, so I expect she won't be able to keep her mouth shut.

Jarvis looks deeply into her eyes - just like he used to do, Flora thinks. It never ceases to amaze her how attractive she finds him. Both are trying to suppress physical thoughts, but this only serves to make the tension between them even greater.

Jarvis poignancy in his voice: We – I have a duty to the staff to know what is going on as soon as possible so we can prepare for the worst.

Flora a surprising amount of spite in her voice: Duty? DUTY! What do you know about your duty, it seems! Yes you have a duty to those men and women who serve under you, but what about your father? You should go and see him! You have a duty to him too.

Jarvis sighs, pacing the room as his stress levels continue to rise. Normally Flora would have noticed and would have soothed him, rubbing his shoulders and hugging him tight, but this time she barely seemed to realise the seriousness of the situation. Caught up in her own feelings and her own anger towards the butler, it appeared to Jarvis to be almost pointless talking to her about Taplows. He is furious that she can't even begin to understand his relationship with his father – how dare she tell him to go and see him!

Jarvis: Mrs Ryan, do you not see that our very jobs could be at risk if the stories about Lord Fiffington-Piffles are true? The Earl invested an awful lot of money – almost £100,000, in the East India Company, and he expects a return. If he has been conned…..barely being able to say it everything we know and love could be lost.

Flora tears welling in her eyes as she turns to the door: I'm sorry Mr Jarvis. Her voice wobbles as she looks him in the eyes over her shoulder, pain and sadness on her face But to me that has already happened.

Flora reluctantly exits, tears once again streaming down her face, leaving Jarvis frustrated and desperate to understand where it all had begun to go wrong between them.

Later on that morning when the sun was baking down on Taplows, Will in his new position of under butler was strutting around the grounds puffing out his chest and generally having a ball ordering people about. This was what he had spent the last few years working towards and not even his current estrangement from Lizzie nor the threat of his father's possibly imminent arrival could put a dampener on his high spirits. Turning round the corner with a little skip in his step he practically bumped into the some of the porters and stable-lads grousing about the hot weather and the impracticality of their afternoon assignment. Will as always interested in everything walked back over to them and addressing the youngest Rob asked "Hey Robbie lad what's the matter?"

Rob eager as ever to spread the bad news started once more on his rant. "Its that potty Earl of ours you won't guess what he's ordered now?" Will still puzzled shook his head.

"He came back this morning and popped round to the stables wanting to check on how we're treating his new hunter, anyway on the way he passed the cesspit, I mean Will you know how it gets at this time of year? The men are supposed to come next week but no his loony lordship decides that it has to be emptied immediately, I mean now this instant this afternoon in all this heat. We all drew lots as to which lucky few got the job and guess what I'm one of them, on top of all that it means I've got to tell my Doris I can't walk her home, after all what woman would let you near her smelling like a dung heap?"

Slowly a broad smile spread over Will's face, this would be just the thing he thought. Turning to Rob he slapped him hard on the shoulder, "Don't worry mate you go have fun with your Doris I have just the volunteer in mind!" And with that Will turned and re-entered the house kicking up his heels in spiteful glee.

A couple of hours later Will was doing his rounds and decided this would be a perfect opportunity to go check on his little volunteer's progress with the cesspit, determined that this should be an experience that was never forgotten Will stuck his head into the footman's room where George and Fred were powdering their wigs. "Hey Lads have I got something you will not want to miss!"

Fred looked up thoughtfully, "Let me see, if its not that the girls are dancing round that maypole naked I'm not interested I've got to be upstairs in five minutes!"

"No mate it's better than that!" Will added.

"What better than naked women? You off your rocker Will?" George replied

"Just follow me and all will be revealed!" Will said beckoning the two lads to follow him down the corridor and out towards the stables.

They rounded the corner and saw the men hard at work with the cesspit, they all covered their noses as the stench was almost unbearable.

George began practically choking on the foul odour "If this is your idea of fun Will I'm starting to seriously worry about you!" Turning to quickly renter the house, but a now ecstatic Will grabbed his arm and pointed over to the centre of the pit where one lone man had the job of filling the buckets which were then passed along the line to the waiting cart. He was standing in galoshes knee deep in effluence and at first the lads had difficulty discerning who it was as the sun was beating down so brightly, but then the man turned towards them and although the bottom part of his face was covered with a mask against the stench the look of fury at being spotted in his eyes was unmistakable.

"Well blow me, it can't be?" George asked turning in wonderment to Will, who was now crying with laughter.

"It is mate, its Mr Adams!" Added Fred who turned to Will a new look of respect on his face, "How in the hell do you pull that one off?"

Will smiled back at them both, "it must be my appealing personality!" He added turning back to look at the now fuming Adams and giving him a little wave to indicate he should get back to work.

They all turned and walked back into the house, Adams searing glare burning into their retreating backs, before they entered the side door George gave one last glance to former under-butler and turning to Will added, "remind me never to get on your bad side!"

It was only just after lunch when Jarvis finally manages to get five minutes to himself, and already it has seemed like an eternity since he got up that morning. He hasn't seen Flora since their last volatile discussion, and nor has he any wish to, especially as he is just settling down in his office, the door firmly shut, with his daily copy of The Times and a cup of tea. He has every intention of putting all thoughts of Flora and of Taplows out of his mind for those few precious moments he tries to grab every day before the next disaster occurs, which of course it always does. He had concluded a long time ago that this is the only way to stay sane, and anyway he always had had an interest in politics and the world around him, especially because he works in such an enclosed and insulated environment. Sometimes he feels that the world must revolve around Taplows, before reminding himself that actually this small world is only a grain of sand on a giant beach and that this estate most certainly isn't the be all and end all of life.

Sighing and falling into his chair, his body feeling slightly weary, he unfolds his newspaper and pops on his spectacles, spreading the paper onto his desk and pulling out from a drawer the cigar he has been craving all morning. He often felt like creating a 'do not disturb' sign for his door, or rather 'do not disturb - unless the house is actually burning to the ground' sign, but he felt this was a little long and by the time some of the more dozy servants had read this their hovering would have annoyed him and he would have waved them inside anyway. Lighting his cigar and supping his tea, Jarvis settles back to read the latest on war and politics, and sometimes fashion if he were feeling adventurous with the supplements (although this was generally reserved for Sundays). After scanning the front page, it is the rather large article on page two which catches his immediate and panicky attention:

'THE FIFFINGTON-PIFFLES RIDDLE, HIS LORDSHIP DISAPPEARS'

Lord Fiffington-Piffles, the wealthy entrepreneur and businessman, has disappeared just before he is due to travel to India with his family where they are due to start a new life. London is today awash with rumours that he has allegedly stolen hundreds of thousands of pounds from unsuspecting victims, instead of investing it in the East India Company as he had agreed with them. Lord Fiffington-Piffles was last seen leaving a gentleman's club in Westminster three nights ago, after allegedly making another deal, and has not been seen since. One London source, who refused to be named, said that the Lord had promised to invest his money and that he would see a return within six months. That was a year and a half ago, and only last month Lord Fiffington-Piffles promised him for the tenth time to expect money soon.

'He is a cad and a bounder' the source told The Times exclusively, 'he should be hung from the highest branch when he is caught, he has stolen and embezzled a lot of good people's money and he must be stopped, or he will be the ruin of high society'.

Lord Fiffington-Piffles was born in...'

Jarvis stops reading and slams down the paper in a crumpled heap on the desk, scraping his chair back and rising to his feet. He has most certainly read enough. The heavy weight of dread is sat firmly in his stomach, so much so he was worried he would vomit, and his legs feel wobbly as if he had been drinking heavily. He isn't quite sure why he's standing, it's not as if he could go straight to the Earl with the news, it would be unheard of. He continues to stand as he takes a long puff on his cigar, as if it were helping him to clear out his head, then stubs it out in an ashtray and sits himself back down. Resiliently he flips open his book of figures. Jarvis knows exactly how much the Earl had 'invested' with the illusive Lord – the Earl had carelessly left out the documents and he had managed to get a good look and memorise the important amounts, given to Fiffington-Piffles in three instalments. Jarvis also knows only too well that everything had been handed over – everything except the emergency reserves. Reserves that are to pay off over half the staff in the form of redundancies. He spends twenty minutes adding up, subtracting and comparing the different house budgets with the amount given to the Lord and the reserves left, sending away every distraction with a wave of the hand and without a word. Finally, he drops his quill, sits back in his chair, closes his eyes and covers his face with his hands. If all the figures add up, he concludes, then the Earl is finished. Completely. There was only so far the Earl could go into the red.

The Sturges Borne family seat would be lost to the bailiffs and the family would be ruined. More importantly, to him, most of the staff would be surplus to requirements and those who remained, in probably a much smaller property, would face massive pay cuts. There would also probably be no need for a butler AND a housekeeper. Suddenly he hears a small tap, and Johnny appears in the doorway.

Jarvis thumping the desk and making Johnny jump: What is it, boy! Can't you see I'm thinking!

Johnny very quietly and nervously as he stretches out his hand, a small envelope in it: This….this letter just came, sir. It was delivered recorded delivery, seems important. It's come from London.

Snatching the letter from Johnny and dismissing him, Jarvis hurriedly slices the envelope with a letter opener and reads in earnest. It is from his fellow butler colleague Percival Stephens, a reputable fellow and at one time very good friend who is currently working for Baron and Baroness Forteskew-Smithers. He read the letter with a heavy heart. Percival writes that although his employers haven't been affected themselves, they certainly know of those who are. Good people who had taken Fiffington-Piffles at face value and had trusted him with their fortunes and who were now finding themselves in severe financial difficulty. Three butlers and five housekeepers had been dismissed within the past few months in the London area alone. Jarvis lowers the letter, pulling off his spectacles and sighing heavily. Why hadn't he heard anything before now, he wonders? How didn't the Earl know? Is he THAT stupid! Jarvis doesn't want to alarm the rest of the staff, not even Flora or Kraus. Not just yet. Not until it was all confirmed, or at least the Earl had been informed though some subtle nudge to look at the relevant article, preferably at a time when he wasn't absolutely hammered. He had been up in his room an awful lot of the time, except for his visit to Cornwall, since Gwen left, and Jarvis fears nobody is about to turn up to tell him all about it. Afternoon tea was rapidly approaching, and Jarvis notes that he has spent far longer than he anticipated in his office. So much had to be done that day, but everything seems to pale into insignificance under the circumstances. Finally Jarvis rises from his chair, snatching up The Times and storming out of his office to the kitchens. He would take the Earl his tea himself, along with a newspaper for him to browse while he munched his scones. It was the only way

Lizzie looking up on seeing Jarvis entering: Mr Jarvis?

Jarvis looking briefly down at the silver tray she was loading, as he had predicted: I'll be taking that to His Lordship today, Miss McDuff. I'm sure you've got plenty of other duties to be undertaking.

A bit surprised, Lizzie smoothed down her apron and stood back, nodding.

Nodding at her, Jarvis lifts up the laden tray and trots back out again, ignoring Adams who is attempting to moan at him about the uncomfortable wig and footman's uniform he has to wear, and how it's too small, and nag, nag, nag, nag. Jarvis is just not interested. None of it matters. Adams matters least of all of anyone. Eventually he leaves Adams frustrated and muttering expletives at the foot of the stairs. Uncomfortable wigs, Jarvis thinks, will soon be the least of Andrew Adams' worries.

Jarvis on entering the drawing room: Your afternoon tea, sir.

The Earl, sprawled in a chair far too small for him, manages a smile as Jarvis places the tray on the table in front of him and pours the tea as steadily as possible considering the butler's frayed nerves.

The Earl struggling to sit up, an empty whiskey bottle next to him with the cap off: Marvellous, Jarvis, just what I need, cake and Earl Grey. Oh, and a newspaper. I feel somewhat cut off at the moment. Jarvis without emotion, standing back with his hands clasped behind him: Indeed, sir.

All Jarvis has to do now is stand and wait. Luckily for him, the Earl doesn't dismiss him but allows him to stand silently at the door, Jarvis' eyes fixed firmly on the Earls' expression and on the flick of the paper. Shovelling in his second scone, the Earl frowns as he stares hard at an article. On page two. Jarvis gives a little jump and shivers, but then the old man looks away onto page three and an article on the joys of rubber. Look back, look back you silly old fool, Jarvis thinks, as if he can will him to do it with the power of his mind. But the Earl begins to turn the pages carefully, obviously not having noticed the giant article about the vanished Lord and the even larger picture of him with 'WANTED' printed under it in massive letters. Jarvis is beginning to sweat, partly because of the warm day and partly through panic, but he feels slight relief when the Earl goes back to the beginning of the paper to read it more in-depth. The silence in the drawing room is killing Jarvis – all he wants to do is shake some Goddamn sense into him and shout 'don't you know what's going on under your nose?' very loudly in his face. But he can't. He has to continue standing, even though his legs are even weaker than before.

The very large penny, it seems, is finally beginning to drop. The Earl stops chewing and his wrist goes limp, clattering his cup back into his saucer. Gripping the paper hard, he brings it closer to his face, his eyes widening as he reads page two over and over

Jarvis trying not to sound alarmed and clearing his throat: Is there anything the matter, sir?

The Earl opening his mouth but taking an age to speak: Er….er….I…er….

Suddenly he jumps up out of his chair, glaring hard at Jarvis who is desperately trying to remain expressionless and completely ignorant to the all-too-obvious situation

The Earl his worried expression turning to rage as he points furiously to the door: Out, I say! Get out! Leave me! I will call you if I need you, I don't need you standing there!

Jarvis: Very good, sir.

Jarvis, as professional as ever, bows slightly as he reaches behind him and opens the doors before walking backwards out of them, closing them again silently in front of him. Once out of sight of the Earl, he stands for a minute in the hallway, a look of complete hopelessness on his face. He is just glad nobody is around to see him looking and feeling so despondent as he turns, tugs at his waistcoat and proceeds to march back towards his office.
End Scene

Meanwhile the maids had been having a hard time under the harsh gaze of their normally kind and understanding housekeeper. Grace shook her head in despair she had no idea what had gotten into Mrs Ryan lately, firstly that business over the jam and now this? Who had ever heard of a complete spring clean being carried out at the beginning of autumn? However she had little time to ponder the problem as Mrs Ryan herself was also participating in the clean and if there was anybody she was working harder than her maids it was herself! Grace had never seen her like it, one moment she was with them working on airing all the rooms and linen, the next she was off dashing downstairs to check up on Charlotte and Susan making sure they were scouring and polishing all the brass and knowing her probably seizing a polisher herself and putting them all to shame. Determined however to avoid another lecture Grace returned to her bed linen determined to have all the guest bedrooms along the west corridor aired by the time Mrs Ryan dashed back upstairs.

Downstairs the rest of the staff were doing their best to stay out of the housekeepers way. Most of the footmen were petrified that in her current mood she would corner them and thrusting mops and buckets into their hands order them to get to work, nor was it an idle concern! Poor Johnny had only come in for a quick glass of water and one of Grace's Chelsea buns when Mrs Ryan had collared him and forcing a feather duster on him had instructed him to hunt out cobwebs. Johnny had stood amazed for an instant unable to comprehend what she had said but the threat of no meals till he finished soon put an end to his musings and the lads had had glimpses of him all afternoon dashing about desperate to rid Taplow's of all cobwebs by dinnertime. So in an effort to escape this fate worse than death all the available footmen had decided to hide out in the footmen's room the door securely barred.

Suddenly there was a sharp knock on the door and reluctantly George dragged himself off of his seat and went and opened the door, he was however relieved to find it was only Lizzie.

"It's alright lads it Liz, no sign of the housecleaning dervish!"

Will got off his stool and wandered over to the door, "What's up Liz? You know if you want refuge in here it'll cost you!"

"How much?" Lizzie retorted smiling grimly.

"Oh I'd say a pot of tea and enough cake to keep us going for the afternoon, right lads?" He asked turning round to glance at each of the footmen in turn.

"I'd say tea is the least of your worries William Forest!" She added darkly.

"Why?"

"She's looking for you and trust me the longer you leave it the worse it's going to be, something about needing you and your footmen to bring down the winter trunks from the attics."

"But its only just bloody September!" Will cried out.

"No need to bite my head off! I'm only passing on a message", and with that she turned and stormed off leaving a once more despondent Will behind her.

Reluctantly the footmen trudged out of their room and went and found Mrs Ryan, it was not long before she had them all working hard going up and down the endless flights of stairs to the attic and bringing down trunk after trunk to the laundry room.

It was on one such occasion Will and George had been struggling with a particularly heavy box and having just placed it down on the laundry room floor they decided to sneak outside and have a quick smoke whilst Mrs Ryan was busy elsewhere. They had just lit up when George poked Will in the ribs and they both quickly extinguished their pipes, seeing Mrs Ryan walking through from the laundry carrying in an enormous pile of freshly washed sheets obviously intent on hanging them up to dry. It soon became apparent to Will that she was not going to make it; a few steps into the courtyard and she started to lurch, dropping the sheets all over the floor. Will jumped forward and caught her as she went down managing to reach her before she hit the floor.

"Christ mate she's out cold!" He yelled back to George who had dashed to help him, "Quick go get some smelling salts!"

"Cold water would be easier…." George began.

"You don't throw cold water over a lady, Adams yes he rightly deserves anything he gets, just go get her medicine box I know she's got some in there!" He turned back to the housekeeper cradled in his arms as George made a mad dash inside.

"Mrs Ryan!" He said gently, shaking her slightly.

Slowly Flora's eyes fluttered open but Will could see she was still dazed and not quite with it, "It's alright George will be back in a minute and then we can get you inside out of this sun…… Come on George!" He muttered to himself.

Suddenly his friend reappeared with Lizzie in tow and the medicine box in hand, she dug around in it and produced the smelling salts, which she held expertly under Mrs Ryan's nose. Suddenly the housekeeper was wide-awake looking both confused and embarrassed, Will helped her to stand but as soon as she was she shook off his supporting arms.

"It's alright I'm fine now", she muttered, "It must be the heat I just need to sit down in my office for a while." And with that she turned and stalked off quickly to her office and worried Lizzie dogging her footsteps.

"I wonder what's the matter with her?" Will asked almost to himself, his concern for the housekeeper he had always thought of as surrogate mother clear on his face.

"Does it matter mate?" Asked George winking at him, "It means we're in the clear for the rest of the afternoon. So what will it be cards or cheese rolling?" He asked already exiting the courtyard and heading off to the footmen's room.

Will shrugged his shoulders and headed after him, only sparing a quick backwards glance in the direction both Mrs Ryan and Lizzie had gone.

Mid afternoon. The sun is streaming through the large windows in the drawing room where Jarvis and Flora are stood silently. They are standing well away from each other, one at each end of the room. Flora is waiting impatiently by the window furthest away from Jarvis, every so often sighing sharply and turning in small circles before staring out again, her gaze far in the distance, while Jarvis is stood perfectly still, his expression stern but his eyes fixed firmly on Flora. She must know, he thinks, that he hasn't taken his eyes off her for a second

Flora sighing again, her tone sharp and angry: Why does he want to see us? Do you know?

Jarvis frowning: Oh Flo….Mrs Ryan, you can't have forgotten what I told you already. He knows – about the money vanishing!

Flora walking slightly towards him but thinking better of it and keeping her distance: Oh, so it's true then? And when were you going to tell me, Mr Jarvis! When I'm out on the street!

Jarvis looking completely frustrated, rubbing his forehead: Of course not! I didn't want to say anything until I knew………..

They both look round as the doors creak open, and a slightly drunken Earl staggers into the room, tripping over the rug. Jarvis darts forward to catch him, but he waves him away and tells him to 'stop fussing'. He indicates to Jarvis to pour him a whiskey, which his butler obeys obediently if a little reluctantly, then lowers himself into his usual chair, wincing slightly as if his body can't cope with the daily grind of living in the lap of luxury

The Earl looking up at Flora and nodding slowly: Good. You're both here.

Flora glances at Jarvis, giving him a look as if to say 'well he finally noticed me'

The Earl continuing: I….I need to go to London. Some affairs to sort out.

Jarvis thinking 'that's an understatement' as he offers the Earl the glass on a silver tray: Is there any sort of problem, sir.

The Earl hesitating then draining the glass, before handing it back to Jarvis for a refill: Er, no I don't think so. Nothing for you two to worry about. I will be gone for a few days or more, and I'll take that footman with me, that William somebody.

Well it WILL be something for us to worry about if we're being sacked, you silly narrow-minded old sod, Jarvis thinks

Flora: Forest. William Forest. And he's no longer a footman, m'Lord, you approved his appointment as temporary under-butler, if you remember correctly. Sir.

The Earl frowning slightly but then realisation creeps over his face: Ah, yes, so I did. I think. Anyway, him. He can come. there is a long silence. Right, you're dismissed.

Flora and Jarvis nod politely and move towards the door, but then the Earl unexpectedly and quite suddenly speaks again, stopping them in their tracks

Earl turning towards them, his voice weary and saddened: There's a bit of a problem. With my finances. I should be able to sort it out in London but….but….

The Earl breaks down, sobbing uncontrollably. Jarvis and Flora exchange startled glances then Flora dashes over to him, handing him a clean handkerchief which he blows his nose on extremely loudly and then hands back to her, to her subtle disgust

Earl sniffing and managing a smile, but without further explanation for his outburst: I'll leave as soon as possible, before nightfall. Have my cases and carriage ready by eight.

Once outside the room, Jarvis manages to grab Flora by the wrist before she can flee from the situation. She swings round angrily, glaring at him with a bitter and, Jarvis detected, an almost hateful spark in her eyes

Jarvis hissing: Flora, wait! Please! I heard you fainted this afternoon, I just want to check you are alright. You seem to be working yourself very hard.

Flora chin wobbling: Are you suggesting that I don't work hard normally, Mr Jarvis!

Jarvis releasing his grip and roughly folding his arms in frustration: Oh, don't be so ridiculous, why do you always have to twist everything? Do you really hate me that much? I am just concerned.

Flora as if not hearing his questions: It's just a bit of a stomach problem, and it's been so hot lately, but thank you for your worry. So you can rest easy in your bed knowing that your behaviour lately hasn't contributed to my sickness!

With that, without giving Jarvis any opportunity to ask her further about her welfare, she turns and marches away. Jarvis had lost count exactly how many times his housekeeper had flounced away from him since they started working together, so at least, he considers, this is a good sign and that she appears to be back to normal. He watches her disappear round the corner, knowing that deep in his heart he still loves her more than anything, despite her tears and tantrums, despite her unreasoned arguments, despite the constant frustration he felt towards her. Realising that these feelings are probably completely worthless now, he sighs and exits in the opposite direction.

Cut to the lower servants hall. Susan, Grace and Charlotte are giggling and chattering away as they bake bread, Susan entertaining them with her rude ale house ditties. There was only so much My Auntie Nellie they could take, so they had encouraged Susan to think up new songs, and she appeared to have a particular talent for it.

Susan preparing herself and brushing her floury hands on her apron: Right, here we go then…..clears throat then begins to amused glances from Grace and Charlotte Daddy told me look into the future, sit and your computer, be a good girl…………

Charlotte dismissing her: Oh, you haven't made that one up Sue, we all know that one! Next line is 'and mama said remember you're a lady, think before you play and straighten your curls'!

Susan returning frantically to her kneeding: Well, you two just ASUMED I'd made it up, I never said I had!

Grace: Well, I only know the chorus, something about not needing no good advice because I'm already wasted…….

But before she can finish, Adams storms into the kitchen, completely sodden with dirty water and moss stuck in his hair. The girls laugh, partly at this and partly at the terribly ill-fitting uniform he is being forced to wear

Adams growling, his fists tightly clenched: Where is he! The maids exchange confused glances, then look back at the sorry footman who is beginning to shiver

Susan stifling a laugh: Don't know who you mean, Mr Adams.

Adams growing redder – he didn't need this little madam trying his patience: Don't play games with me, Miss Eliot, where is he!

Charlotte keeping calm: If you mean William then you'll probably find him just there. she points behind Adams, who swings round, flicking dirt and moss into their dough and causing a unified 'urgghh!' and screwed up expressions

Will is standing there, grinning from ear to ear and tapping his foot. He can't believe his luck at Adams' appearance, Jarvis would go mental

Adams poking Will in the chest, coming right up to his face: Outside. Now. Adams stalks off towards the courtyard before Will can retort with 'you can't tell me what to do any more'. The three maids snigger and cover their mouths as Will winks at them before he exits, smiling again then brushing the dirt from his white shirt which had released itself from Adams' finger.

Will Appearing in front of Adams, still smug as ever: So, have you finished with the guttering then?

Adams coming up after he rinses his head under the outside pump: You are pushing it, laddie. You spoiling for a fight again? Are you! Because I can give you one, right on that smug mouth of yours.

Will shaking his head, his tone pure sarcasm: Tut, tut, Andy, you really need to get that attitude of yours sorted out y'know or you could find yourself in trouble AGAIN, and that surely wouldn't be good for your already battered reputation.

Adams knowing his demotion has trapped him: You just wait until our roles are reversed again, which they will be. Mr Jarvis only meant this to be temporary!

Will raising an eyebrow and sizing Adams up: Yes, to teach you a lesson, and I intend to teach you one you'll never forget, now get back up that ladder and back to that guttering - finish cleaning it out or I'll ask Mr Jarvis to dock your wages for sheer incompetence!

Adams huffs, growling again before storming past Will, smacking into Will's shoulder as he does so and smearing him with the filth from the gutter. Will is left rubbing his hands in glee before making his way back into the house.