Chapter 172

After a rest from writing a new chapter of Revelations every week, I have decided I am not done with fan fiction, yet. Instead, I have plans to make it more than a time-consuming hobby by opening a , giving myself a chance to turn writing into a career of sorts.

The future stories will be in the same style as before, written slightly popularly to make them easy to read and entertaining, and containing adult scenes and 'modern' issues wherever that seems natural. I do my research to make my stories fit into the time period but not at all costs, the interaction between characters and the emotions involved matter more to me than perfect historic correctness, and research takes a lot of time even when using sources that are easily available.

I have plenty of ideas left for a whole series of short tales revolving around characters from Revelations, some continuing where Revelations left off, some set in the future and some in the past. I'm also open for requests, as demonstrated by the following pages, which are the first part of a story asked for in the comment section. Feel free to let me know which event or character you would like to have a tale of their own, and if it appeals to my subconscious (which is responsible for most of my writing) I will spin it out.

The following story starts a few days before Jane and Bingley's wedding.

'Frederick Manners, why can't you ever leave well enough alone?'

Frederick's subconscious had the good sense to hear this reprimand spoken in his mind in Jane's voice, Lady Jane Harrington's that was, the only person who had ever had even the slightest influence on him after he'd taken possession of his late father's estate on his twenty-first birthday. School, and later college, had taught Frederick that the only person he could depend on was himself, and no-one had ever proven him wrong. Only Jane had ever come near, but circumstances dictated they could never be as close as they both might have liked. The most obvious ones, her being significantly older as well as already married, were by no means the most important, and whilst Frederick had never dared confide in her entirely, he suspected that she suspected the true reason that there was no future by her side for the young favourite of the London beau monde: the popular Mr Manners, a bachelor coveted by many a young pure lady for his respectability as well as his fortune, was afflicted by that worst of aberrations, his secret shame, an insurmountable preference for men.

There was no use fighting it, except for Lady Jane he had never met a woman even worth trying for, and indulging was simply too dangerous. The only attractions he had were fame and fortune, any young men interested in him were undoubtedly out for the one or the other and would threaten his place in society and possibly his very existence. So Frederick Manners had ruthlessly suppressed his need for love and intimacy and instead taught himself to thrive on intrigue.

'You know you have no right to meddle in the affairs of your friends' friends, you are going to regret this!'

Jane's voice was losing ground fast, a mere echo of the original, he needed to know why Mr Darcy hated the companion of his youth so much that Bingley refused to have this Mr Wickham under his roof, even though he was brother-in-law to both of them. Why had Mr Darcy married the sister-in-law of the man he hated with a passion when he could have had his pick of all the young ladies in London? And how could a true gentleman even feel an aversion of such intensity? Mr Darcy was obviously Bingley's ideal of masculinity and stability, such a man would not let his feelings be stirred by a mere trifle, he would scorn a base feeling like outright hatred. Bingley might be content to just accept his friend's dislike, but Frederick smelled intrigue and he would not rest until he knew what was afoot. He liked what Bingley had told him about the Darcy family, and he needed to know what drove them.

Apparently, Mr and Mrs Darcy were going to take an hour at least to freshen up and change before Frederick would get to meet them, plenty of time to ask a few questions of the one member of their staff most likely to know Mr Darcy's innermost secrets: his valet. Frederick knew what newly-weds were likely to do in private before dressing, Mr Darcy's valet, a well respected young man known simply as 'Simon' among the Netherfield staff, would be using the greater part of this hour to reacquaint himself with his peers and maybe take a little rest himself after a day's journey from London. Never mind, Frederick wouldn't take much of his time, ten minutes would suffice to charm a young servant into telling the nice gentleman everything he knew.

By now he had reached the servants' quarters, he knew the way because he had used the last few days well, talking to most of the Netherfield staff at least once, to see what he could find out about the Darcy family and Mr Wickham. It had been easy enough to get them to open up over Mr Wickham, apparently he had been stationed in the neighbourhood and had left a lot of debt behind when his regiment of the militia moved to Brighton. They also, though more hesitantly, confessed that he had eloped with the youngest Bennet girl and only married her after being forced to, they guessed by his colonel. Their loyalty to their future mistress had already been sufficiently strong that Frederick suspected they would not have slandered her sister to a stranger had it not been common knowledge already that Miss Lydia Bennet's marriage had taken place at sword's point, at least from the dashing husband's side.

Mr Darcy they all knew since he was a regular visitor to the house, and he was said to be a lot less arrogant than was the general opinion of the neighbourhood. Which was interesting, for from Bingley's description of his dear friend, Frederick could never have guessed that people generally might judge Mr Darcy as considering himself above others. The staff had never heard of any dealings between Mr Wickham and Mr Darcy, of course some of Mr Darcy's staff had stayed at Netherfield during his visits, but apparently none of them would ever talk about the family to strangers. Well, that was to other staff, keeping quiet towards servants was different from refusing to talk to a gentleman. Few people could resist Frederick when he put his mind to getting them to open up, and Mr Darcy's valet would prove no exception.

Entering the kitchen, Frederick managed to catch the attention of one of the cook's helpers.

'Hello there, Hicks, do you know whether Mr Darcy's valet is in the common room right now?'

After a quick look at the cook and an almost imperceptible nod of that worthy middle-aged man, Hicks replied readily enough.

'He certainly is, sir, with Mrs Darcy's personal maid. She is very pretty, but with Simon around none of us will have a chance. Do you want me to fetch him for you?'

'Yes, please, Hicks, tell him there is a gentleman to see him. I'll wait just outside the kitchen where I'm out of the way.'

With a bow, the polite youngster sped off, and Frederick left the kitchen, but not before nodding his appreciation to the cook. The man would forgive the new gentleman his intrusion, Frederick was a very generous master to his own staff and his valet and especially his driver, who was rather talkative, would have told the Netherfield people plenty. No servant would begrudge Mr Manners a few moments of their, or their underlings', time.

He didn't have long to wait before the door to the kitchen opened, but only when the slim shape coming towards him passed a window did Frederick understand what Hicks had just suggested: Mr Darcy's valet had the face of an angel, and in his perfectly fitted, red-and-black livery he looked more like a prince from a fairytale than a gentleman's servant. Frederick felt his carefully suppressed feelings of admiration and lust rise up, taking his breath away and causing not just his heart to swell. This was the most beautiful man he had ever seen! Of course this angel would not even look at Frederick twice, not even if he wasn't for the ladies as Hicks suggested, there was nothing to gain in fooling himself, love was just not for Frederick Manners, better get a hold of himself and get to the point instead of betraying his feelings to some stuck-up valet who just happened to be the most beautiful person in the world.

Though indeed Mr Darcy's valet proved himself to be not stuck-up at all but rather polite, he merely waited patiently for the plain gentleman before him to stop gawking and start talking. He had expected to meet his master, no doubt, not a stranger. People being struck speechless when first laying eyes on him could not be new to someone so handsome.

'Ha, thank you for coming, I hope you are not disappointed to find me instead of your master.'

Frederick was proud of himself to have managed to keep up his usual casual attitude, it wouldn't do for the young man to hear how much affected he was. Mr Darcy's valet was very polite, but that did not keep him from studying Frederick carefully. Not that Frederick wasn't drinking in the sight of him while he could, the slim yet masculine shape, the perfection of nose and cheekbones, the kind blue colour and long lashes of his large eyes. His blond hair made him look even more like an angel, though it was cut a bit too short, for practical reasons or most likely to keep him from looking feminine.

'I wondered if you would do me the favour of giving me a quarter of an hour of your time? Somewhere private?'

Imagine the things they could do in private, how he would kiss those rose-coloured lips whilst stroking the unblemished skin beneath that livery. Stop! This was not what he had come to do, falling in love with a beautiful servant ten years his junior was a certain way to lose everything, not just his heart.

'As you wish, sir. Am I right to suppose that you are Mr Manners? Your valet was about the only personal servant not trying to wring intimate details about my master and Mrs Darcy from Fanny, Mrs Darcy's maid. I hope they'll go easy on her, I was planning to expose her to their curiosity slowly.'

He talked readily enough, this would be much easier than the Netherfield staff had led him to believe. But then the open expression changed to a typical servant's expression, one of a free-thinking, intelligent person who had to force himself to not have an opinion on anything and just appear helpful. Apparently he had realised he was more or less judging a gentleman for calling him away from a situation he thought important. Which meant he would most likely want to go back to this maid as quickly as possible, maybe he had an interest in her, as Hicks had suggested. Too bad, it would have been quite pleasurable to just talk to Simon, he seemed smart as well as beautiful.

'Will my own little room do? It's small but tidy, and I have a chair to sit on as well as the bed.'

Oh, to sit on a bed with an angel, if only he hadn't had that chair.

'That will do very well, I'm not planning to keep you long. Do you think Mrs Darcy's maid isn't strong enough to resist some maids and valets pressing her?'

'If I hadn't, I would not have agreed to accompany you, sir. It is her first time amongst other staff than Mr Darcy's and it would be very disappointing if she were to fold. But she will not, she is very strong-minded as well as strong-principled. I'm sorry if that seems disrespectful to you but it is my responsibility to guide her through this rite of passage.'

It appeared that Simon the valet had plenty of spirit after all, which gave Frederick a little thrill of anticipation he could not explain nor stop himself from feeling. The young man didn't seem in a hurry to leave either, why not enjoy the company and feast his eyes on Simon's beauty for as long as he could? Frederick's determination to find out the truth about Mr Wickham suddenly seemed so much less important than proving to Simon that plain men could be good company.

As he led Mr Manners to his little room, Simon wondered what the gentleman had set out to meet him for. Not his virtue probably, though his obvious admiration for Simon suggested he might lean that way, Simon knew some other men suffered from his own affliction, though he had met just one of them himself and that was years ago. Though this man might be struck with Simon's beauty because he was rather plain himself, that wasn't very likely, most men just weren't that interested in another man's personal beauty. They might look at him with envy, but not with admiration, and Mr Manners certainly betrayed his admiration more than he seemed aware of himself. But his surprise at beholding Simon proved he hadn't known Mr Darcy's valet was very handsome, therefore it was unlikely that he had come on purpose to seduce him.

So what had he come for then? Not for advice on fashion, though he could use it. Of excellent quality and fit, Mr Manners' coat was nevertheless excruciatingly conservative in style, it made him seem years older than a college friend of Mr Bingley's could possibly be. Simon would love to get his hands on this polite gentleman to make him look his best, he wasn't athletic in build and had rather plain features, but he wasn't overweight and it was obvious there was plenty of muscle on the stocky frame. A differently cut coat would bring that out to his advantage, and with his self-assured stance he would make an impressive figure. Simon dared wager Mr Manners being quite a dominant character, which didn't show now since he was trying to make himself agreeable to a servant, which meant treading very carefully. Little did the gentleman know that Simon happened to find dominant men very attractive.

All in all, there could be worse places to be than in a private room with an interesting man who was filling his eyes with Simon's beauty, though covertly. With nearly every woman in his company usually doing the same, Simon recognised the looks, however rare they were coming from a man. Well, he would soon enough find out whether Mr Manners was as excellent a companion as Simon hoped.

When Simon let him in first, Mr Manners took one look around the small room then sat down on the single chair. Simon took this as a challenge and made himself comfortable on the bed in a way that would merely show him feeling at home to most men. If Mr Manners was like Simon, however, seeing a slender young man reclining elegantly on a bed should make him rage inside with a fire Simon yearned to experience in person, but was a bit afraid of as well: he had never been with a man, though he wanted to by now. If Mr Manners was to be the one, Simon needed to know whether his obvious physical strength and the dominance he carefully hid under kind attentiveness would be under their owner's control at all times. Better test him here, in broad daylight with the halls teeming with other servants going about their business, rather than risk being overwhelmed on a nightly escapade. As far as he could tell, Mr Manners certainly appreciated the sight, but instead of trying to approach Simon he started an informal conversation.

'So, Simon, may I call you Simon? I didn't ask, and I don't even know your last name.'

An ideal chance for another little test, as Simon righted himself and offered the gentleman his hand to shake. A rather bold move from a servant towards a gentleman, but Simon was starting to like this man, and if he was mistaken in his character it was better to find out immediately.

Mr Manners withstood the test without incidence, taking Simon's hand in a firm, warm grip and shaking it heartily but without undue force. Simon couldn't help noticing the strong limb being very shapely, as elegant as its owner was not, the back of it covered with a charming little pelt of dark hair. Somehow, the sight of that hair caused him a rush of excitement, and he had to control himself not to bring the hand up to his face and kiss or smell it.

The gentleman did speak first.

'Of course, why did I forget to introduce myself? Maybe because you instantly gave me a feeling of familiarity. I'm Frederick Manners, Simon, and I wouldn't mind at all to have you call me Frederick. Will you do me the pleasure of chatting with me for a few moments?'

'I'd love to, Frederick,' Simon replied, though it wasn't easy at all to be familiar with a gentleman. 'My full name is Simon Close, and of course you are welcome to call me Simon.'

It had taken him years to get used to being called by his last name, he had come from a very warm family and had not taken lightly to a life of servitude. But that was years ago, Mr Darcy had always called him by his first name, probably because Simon had introduced himself with it on purpose, hoping it might fall on willing ears.

Mr Manners nodded and smiled, Simon was certain he didn't smile like that very often, so genuinely pleased, and it made him look much less plain, somehow. 'Frederick' suited him very well as personal name, dignified but not unreachable. Suddenly Simon realised he wanted to be intimate with this man, very much so, if it could be done safely. He no longer doubted Mr Manners being like him, loving men. It was very obvious right now that he was as much attracted to Simon as Simon was to him.

'Thank you, Simon. Will you tell me a little about yourself? I know you work as a valet, but is that what you've always wanted to do? What do you love?'

Well, powerful men apparently, for he'd mooned over Mr Darcy for so long, and the only thing his handsome master had in common with Frederick Manners seemed to be a certain dominance. But of course he couldn't say that out loud, and there was one thing Simon loved above all others.

'I love beautiful clothing, Frederick. Precious fabrics, good workmanship, perfect tailoring. Everyone can look good with the right clothes, though of course being wealthy helps a lot. Which is why I am rather pleased with my current position, a valet gets to dress his master to perfection, and in my case Mr Darcy even allows me to help choose much of his wardrobe.'

'You designed your own livery, didn't you?'

'I did. How vain will you think me now?'

If that wasn't flirting, Simon didn't know what was. But he couldn't help it, he had to know whether Frederick was of his own kind and if so, whether he was a safe choice to do a little exploring with. That hand, it had been so strong and yet so gentle handling Simon's much more slender one.

'Do you care what I think? I know you must see so much amiss with my apparel, I wish I had reason to be vain but I will always be plain, no matter what fortune I were to spend on my attire.'

That was not what Simon had expected. He had meant what he said in a witty way, since valets generally had the reputation of being vain and Simon certainly had his share of that particular sin. For his companion to be so frank and so hard on himself was proof that Frederick did not see him as a mere servant, not right now at least. And it did ask for a true but diplomatic reply.

'You already benefit from the best fabric and workmanship, but I am certain I could help you gain a certain advantage with your attire, bring out the best in your figure, make you look as interesting and self-assured as your personality is.'

The gentleman did not believe Simon, who was certain he was right, Frederick's tailor was not doing him any favours besides making his garments comfortable and valuable looking. But Mr Manners did not seem put out, so Simon dared speak his thoughts.

'No, really, you have plenty of excellent physical traits that you should be proud to show off. Your legs would show to their advantage if you wore pantaloons with your shoes, your legs are slim and muscular, breeches and stockings make them look much shorter and rounder than they are. And your shoulders are very bulky but your waist is slim, your tailor probably decided not to accentuate your waist since it would make your shoulders look disproportionately wide, when he saw it as his task to make you look more like some athletic ideal. But in doing so he made you look more plump than you are. I'd say your build is impressive as it is, why not let people see you as you are? I don't know you that well but I suspect looking broad and fit matches your personality much better than your current harmless, bulky look.'

A bit afraid of having insulted him, Simon was relieved to find Mr Manners looking at him with pleased surprise.

'You surprise me with your quick observations, they are so true! I do believe you are right, maybe I should just accept being built differently from most men. You really think pantaloons would make me look slightly dangerous rather than placid? I'd like that, I think.'

'I've talked Mr Darcy into wearing pantaloons, and though he has the advantage of an athletic build I do think it has made him look even better. Though it may make him seem a bit aloof to some people, he is a rather private man.'

Suddenly the atmosphere changed, and Mr Manners, or rather Frederick at this very moment since he seemed almost bashful, admitted, 'You sound so different when you talk about him, it's almost as if there is some special bond between you.'

Simon by now had almost forgotten the self-assured gentleman whom he'd met just moments ago, he just saw this ingratiating man who obviously admired his looks and wanted to get to know him better. Mesmerized by the absorption with which Frederick listened to him, the kindness and concern he showed so easily, Simon answered much more truthfully than he would ordinarily have done.

'We used to be like brothers, Mr Darcy and I, we travelled together, played billiards together, we even played tricks on the other and rough housed at times. I adulated him and he favoured me over his other staff.'

'Until he met Mrs Darcy,' Frederick stated, but with feeling, 'I'm sorry for you.'

'Thank you, but it was for the best. His London staff was jealous of my preferential treatment and made me feel it. And Mrs Darcy deserves him, she has made him a better man, though he was always good to me. Still is, I'm no longer a favourite but he has given me something more important: a chance to improve myself in the world. I'm his housekeeper in London now and I'm learning to carry the burden of responsibility.'

'I'm very certain you are still a favourite, Simon, even if you may no longer be treated like a brother. From what I have heard, I get the feeling that Mr Darcy is very loyal to the people who depend on him.'

'He is. People call him proud, because he is tall and doesn't have your talent to talk freely to strangers, but to those he knows he is always kindness itself. I have been his valet for ten years, and he has never disappointed me, not once.'

'My friend Bingley told me that Mr Darcy hates his brother-in-law, a Mr Wickham, whom he used to be friends with? He must have deserved to lose that friendship then.'

Simon could imagine how Frederick had learned of Wickham's existence, and before he knew it he had jumped to his master's defence.

'To be sure he did! My master doesn't like to talk about it to anyone, but he was so angry when it happened, I've never seen him like that. Mr Darcy's late father doated on George Wickham and provided him with an education and secured his future if he would take orders. After his patron's decease the ingrate let Mr Darcy buy him out, then squandered the money and tried to get the living anyway. When Mr Darcy refused, he tried to elope with Miss Darcy to get his hands on her fortune and avenge himself on the man who had tried his best to save him from his own vices. Don't you doubt that my master has every reason to hate Mr Wickham!'

Then, suddenly, the charm was broken.

'Why am I telling you this? This is what you came to find out, isn't it? You didn't even want to know about me, you were just drawing me out! Well, you are the first person ever to have gotten me to betray my master's confidence, I hope you are pleased with your success. Damn you, Frederick, I thought you liked me.'

Simon was as angry as he'd ever been, how could he have been so naïve as to think that a gentleman could ever really like a servant, no matter how beautiful? Why should things be different when the gentleman liked men instead of women? Had there ever been a beautiful maid who had drawn a gentleman's eye who had not rued the moment that had happened? Trying to protect Fanny then falling for some stupid flattery himself!

'Simon, please, I'm sorry!'

See, Jane's voice had been right, nothing good could come of his constant need for intrigue. Now he had ruined something special, this was not just some sycophant trying to flatter his way into the Beau Monde, with the brains of a mule and the conversation of a chunk of butter. This was a sensitive soul with an obvious talent whom Frederick respected already. Why had he let himself be tempted to make use of the way the conversation was going, to have his question answered?

Looking at the young man, if possible even more heartbreakingly beautiful in his distress, Frederick felt his heart sink. When had he fallen for him? Just now, when he proved that his short time with Frederick meant something to him, too? Or much earlier, when Frederick first saw him in the light of the window? There never was a chance to win this man's heart, but at least he had to make sure Simon didn't hate him for what he'd done.

The long-lashed blue eyes bored straight into his soul, a poignant reproach that was so deserved, and yet it wasn't.

'I did not pretend to be interested in you, Simon, I really am! I'm so sorry, I did arrange to meet you to find out about Mr Wickham but I liked you the instant we met. I have this bad habit to want to get to the heart of things, but I should have stopped myself this time, I should have respected you. Can you forgive me?'

It almost seemed as if Simon was hurt as well as angry, did that mean it was not just the deception that had angered him, but maybe also that he actually cared what Frederick thought of him? Was there a chance that Simon like Frederick? Dared he touch him as he wanted to so very very much? Just a single hand on his shoulder, to give weight to his heartfelt apology and at the same time, be close to him and feel a connection to him, however short?

'Please, Simon? I loved to hear you speak about your love for clothes, and to hear how much you love your master. I promise you that I will tell no-one what you just told me, I had no right to know and I will respect that from now on.'

Simon did not shake off the hand. Instead, he looked at it as if he wanted to pick it up and hold it, but he left it right there and then, slowly, a smile formed on his face and he leaned back against the pillow.

'I will forgive you, because I like to find out things myself, and because it's always useful to have a connection among the London Beau Monde. But it was a despicable thing to do, and I expect you to keep your promise to not tell anyone what I had no right to tell you.'

It seemed all was not lost! Frederick knew it was madness, knew it was preparing himself for heartbreak when the wedding party broke up and he'd never see Simon again, but he could not resist, he had to have the valet think well of him, he had to spend a little more time with him as long as he could.

'I promise! Now, will you tell me a little more about your life, or do you want me to tell you a few stories of my time in college?'

Sadly, there was no longer any reason to touch him, so he sat back down on the hard chair and waited for Simon's decision. It was only another ten minutes before Simon would have to attend to his master, but Frederick would take any time he could get to gaze upon his beautiful face and listen to his voice, or maybe bring back Simon's good humour and animation by relating his own most outrageous college anecdotes.

'Why don't you tell me about you, Frederick? Where did you grow up, do you have sisters and brothers you are close to?'

Frederick did not like to talk about his youth, it was filled with painful memories, mostly of loneliness and feeling rejected, but fair was fair, he owed Simon openness. And by the time they parted ways because Simon feared Mrs Darcy's maid would get upset by his absence, the incident over Mr Wickham was forgotten, and Frederick had to admit he was well and truly smitten.

Meeting the Darcy family was as pleasant as he had hoped, Mr Darcy as handsome and as well-dressed as he'd expected from Bingley's and Simon's reports. What Bingley had left out, out of delicacy but more likely because it didn't concern him personally and therefore he hadn't noticed it, was that Mr Darcy was indeed rather reticent, as Simon had observed. No problem for Frederick, he didn't feel inferior and could provide the warmth that would make a first meeting pleasurable. He intended to make his own easy nature useful to Mr Darcy whenever it was needed, it would gain him a lot of good will to help the other gentleman connect to new acquaintances, especially Frederick's own college friends who were due to arrive the next day.

Mrs Darcy was far superior to what he'd dared to expect from a country girl barely twenty years old. She was much slimmer than was the current fashion in London and much less adorned, but her active character, she'd ridden all the way from London in the snow, was much more attractive to a sportsman like Frederick, and to Darcy, of course. But only when he'd talked to her had he really understood what set her apart from Miss Bingley and other fashionable ladies with a traditional upbringing: Mrs Darcy was supremely intelligent and really aware of what was going on outside her own little privileged part of the world. He no longer wondered why Mr Darcy had thrown caution in the wind to win her, and had accepted the rightfully hated Mr Wickham as brother-in-law to have such a life's companion. Simon was right to have bowed to his new role as a mere servant to a master who had always favoured him: the new Mrs Darcy was the right partner for Mr Darcy, and any servant unable to accept that would have been wiser to find a new position.

And then there was Miss Darcy. She was so very young, and yet so very talented and driven. Frederick still had an interest in her as possible partner in a marriage of convenience, but in fact she was way too young to do anything but explore the world and her talent. He had done her a small favour immediately and now she liked him, if Frederick was unable to live without Simon she would be a great advocate for him to get an invitation to Pemberley for the summer, where he might at least lay eyes on Simon once in a while and maybe get a chance to talk to him now and then.

But what if he didn't want to talk to a gentleman who'd gotten him to talk about his master? A master he obviously adored, wasn't that a sign he loved men instead of women?

There was no rest for Frederick that night, he lay awake for hours with his thoughts chasing each other, trying to think of ways to find out whether Simon might ever love him, then berating himself for giving in to a weakness that could ruin him, then trying to discern how deep Simon's love for his master might go, and how a gentleman like himself might have a solid bond to a man without the rest of the world finding out. And when he finally fell asleep he dreamt feverishly of stroking the boyish cheek, wondering how soft it would be despite knowing Simon was an adult male with a beard, however closely he shaved it. After stroking Simon's cheek he'd kiss him, then unbutton the beautiful livery that fitted him like a second skin. He would be bare-chested underneath, and his pale skin would be soft and fragrant. He imagined the young man shuddering under his capable hands, a bit fearful of Frederick's physical strength and powerful position but trusting his lover to do him no harm.

That couldn't be, there was no way that a man as beautiful as Simon would not be an experienced lover. He would not be overcome by anything Frederick had to offer, most likely Simon would be eager to touch Frederick's solid chest, bury his face in the thick black hair covering it, tracing the hard muscle from his broad arms across his chest to his flat stomach, proud to have guessed what lay beneath the immaculate coat he had dismissed so firmly because it made Frederick seem complacent and overweight. He knew Frederick was fit and strong.

But what if he didn't like hairy, muscular men? What if he preferred clean-cut, athletic men like Mr Darcy? Simon could get any man he liked, why would he fall for a short, plain-faced man in his thirties? If he even liked men that way, most likely he was just kind and interested in helping gentlemen to dress to their advantage. Most likely he would spend his private time with that young maid he was helping to find a place among the Netherfield staff, forgetting Mr Manners altogether or only hoping he would not let anyone know he had spilled some information he shouldn't have.

With his doubts even entering his lustful dreams and spoiling them thoroughly, Frederick was soon back to wakefulness, and back to the same burning questions: would he ever find someone to love as he knew he could? And if he did, would it be possible at all to keep that love a secret from society? Was Simon of his own kind, or would he hate Frederick for even looking at him with desire?

During that same night, Simon was in a slightly better state: he was reasonably certain Mr Manners, or Frederick as he allowed himself to think of the gentleman, loved men and was attracted to him. He also didn't doubt he was handsome enough to deserve love, but that didn't mean he didn't have any doubts at all. If he seduced Frederick, which he was fairly certain by now he could, and wanted to, he would almost certainly fall in love with him. Simon just didn't know how to love casually. Then when the gentleman moved on he would be left behind with his heart broken. And what if it hurt to make love to a man? Frederick was so strong and dominant, there was no way Simon could protect himself from being overpowered if he had been mistaken in Frederick's character.

He lay awake almost as long, pondering these questions and others, and he also imagined what it would be like to have Frederick's hands on his body and be free to touch him. He knew how strong a man could be, and the thought excited him immensely. And when he fell asleep and dreamed of making love to a gentleman, his dreams did not end in another bout of self-doubt, but rather in a flustered, heated memory of everything he had imagined making love to a man would be. The dream faded quickly once he had woken up altogether, as dreams are wont to do, but the flustered, excited feeling remained. If Frederick sought him out today, as Simon's feelings didn't doubt he would, Simon would try to encourage him, try to let him know his attraction had been spotted and was welcome. Then it would be up to the gentleman to decide whether he'd lower himself to seducing a servant.

Satisfied with this decision, Simon washed and dressed and went to the common room for a quick cup of coffee before his master was ready to be dressed.

The bell rang earlier for himself and Fanny than he had expected, but Fanny explained.

'The mistress is visiting her parents today, she asked me to ready her riding dress because they are going on horseback.'

Of course, Simon should have remembered, he had chosen a gaudy present for Mr Darcy to give to his mother-in-law after all. But frankly, he wasn't himself by far, it had been such a restless night with such visions of love and passion, one just didn't shake that off instantly, at least he didn't. And now he was hoping to run into Mr Manners any time, with Mr Darcy and Mrs Darcy off to see her parents and Miss Darcy enjoying the company of Miss Catherine Bennet, there would probably not be a better opportunity for Frederick to find his way into the servants' quarters unseen by the other guests.

Dressing his master was done quickly and thoroughly, and when he returned to the back with Fanny he felt as if his nervousness was visible to anyone they met. They had a nice, quiet breakfast together, and since everybody knew by this time that Fanny was in fact engaged to Mr Darcy's driver, it was time for Simon to make an effort towards one or more of the other female staff, to head off possible rumours sown by Janine.

Miss Bingley's maid rather liked him, almost as much as she liked gossiping, which seemed to be the perfect combination for his purpose. So when she showed up in the company of Mrs Hurst's maid, Simon invited them to join their table and started a lively chat with both of them. He tried to concentrate on what they were saying, directing a wink at Fanny once in a while to make her feel included, but after half an hour he was starting to get restless. Wasn't it time for Mr Manners to make an appearance? Fanny didn't seem quite comfortable either, and he soon discovered why when she approached one of the higher-ranked Netherfield maids to ask whether there was some chore she could help them with. Poor Fanny had been raised with diligence, she was not used to watching others work whilst uselessly chatting away the time herself!

Of course there was plenty to do in a household expecting any number of guests for the wedding, and the wedding itself, and soon Fanny was sitting with several household maids on the other side of the common room, polishing silver and chatting away as eagerly as she had been silent among the personal maids. She would get used to those as well, but for now it was perfectly acceptable for her to seek the company she felt at home with.

Simon managed another ten minutes of gallantry, mostly to gloss over Fanny's disappearance, but when Mr Manners' valet entered the common room he could no longer stand to just sit there and do nothing, his valet being at liberty meant the gentleman was up and dressed. Dared he try to get information from him about his master? He couldn't, everyone knew not to try to get Simon to talk about his master, he could not break his own principles and do it to another servant, he'd never live it down. Why did Frederick employ this fellow anyway? He was boring, old, and it was obvious he had no idea how to make the most of Frederick's assets.

'How is your master today, Robert?' Violet asked the middle-aged servant. He was old to be a valet, and he didn't seem to enjoy the prospect of a wedding at all. Even the staff generally enjoyed weddings, especially the personal staff. They didn't have the hardships of scrubbing and cleaning any number of guest rooms, of keeping the fires fed and the hearths and bedpans clean, of filling and emptying washstands and cooking and doing the laundry. And a valet wasn't even expected to do his own sewing, though Simon certainly could if needed. To a valet, a wedding meant making certain his master looked his best, and to keep clean clothes handy if he spilled something, or at worst to guide him through a night of illness if he indulged too much. And whilst the family enjoyed themselves in the front of the house, the servants had their own little party in the back. Even Simon loved a grand occasion, a ball or a wedding, though he never indulged in punch or wine or even more than one tumbler of ale. He could not afford to talk too freely, and he knew true spirits made him talkative, so he abstained altogether from anything stronger than ale.

'In high spirits, Miss Ragwort, I think he enjoys Mr Bingley's company and that of his friends very much. He is very fond of music, you know, and Miss Darcy promised to play for him. She is reputed to be a very good pianist, I wish I could hear her myself, I love good music.'

'Oh, my mistress has heard Miss Darcy play very often, she is such an adorable girl and so accomplished. My mistress wanted Miss Darcy to make a match with her brother, you know, but I suppose they didn't fancy each other. Does your master have plans to find himself a lovely little lady, soon? He is at the right age to be wed, isn't he?'

'I never knew there was a right age to be wed, miss, I was twenty myself, and we had our first child a year and a half later. But if the master were to be wed to a lady pianist we might spend most of our time in town, where I could see the wife and children more often. I wouldn't say no to that!'

And that was the last thing he said, leaving Simon feeling a bit guilty for being so hard on the old fellow. It had to be tough to be away from the people he loved all the time. He realised he had been feeling a bit jealous of Robert's intimacy with Frederick, though he knew it was not the kind of bond he had enjoyed with Mr Darcy for so long.

He no longer felt like chatting up any maid, so he excused himself and went towards his own little room, to maybe reminisce what had happened there yesterday, hear the deep voice pleading to be forgiven, feeling the strong hand on his shoulder.

'Simon! Just the man I was looking for! Can you please, please help me? I have this letter I need mailed but everyone is so busy I cannot seem to get a hold of the butler or anyone in charge.'

His heart jumped in his chest and he felt a deep blush heating up his face. Frederick had come looking for him, just not to the common room, where someone else might have offered to help him out. He turned around instantly to see whether he had imagined everything, it would give away his own fluster but if he wanted to see Frederick's expression he had to be quick. Those gentlemen were so good at covering their feelings.

His expression, his stance, everything betrayed him now: Frederick's voice had been as jovial as ever, but faced with Simon he looked more like a forlorn schoolboy than a self-assured gentleman. Heart pounding, Simon forced himself to reply as dryly as Frederick's question had been posed.

'Of course, sir, if you will just follow me to my room I will take care of everything for you. I have been here before, I know who runs the mail and at what times, I will see it included in the next delivery.'

There was no-one in sight, if they were quick they could avoid being seen altogether.

Once inside the room, Frederick did not sit down, he was still not entirely certain of his reception.

Simon held out his hand to receive the letter, certain there would be one, Frederick had no idea that Simon was aching for him as he stood there, still a bit out of place, and certainly drinking in the sight of Simon's beauty. He looked so vulnerable like this, suddenly Simon was sure he could be trusted, he would not take anything Simon wasn't prepared to give him. But what if he had imagined it all? What if Frederick was exactly what he seemed to be, a very kind gentleman with a sincere interest in people and an innocent appreciation for beauty?

Did he hesitate what to do with Simon's hand just there? Take it and kiss it, or put the letter in it? He did the latter, but slowly. Were his eyes smouldering? What did smouldering eyes look like anyway? Simon checked the address on the envelope, it was perfectly legible, an address in London, it looked like a letter of business. The handwriting was strong and neat, as one would expect from the likes of Frederick Manners. He put the letter on his tiny table, to take to the butler later that day, when he knew the family would be together in the drawing-room, giving the staff time to take some moments of rest.

When he turned back to Frederick, it seemed as if the latter was going to say something or do something, but didn't know what.

'Thank you, Simon, you've been very kind to me.'

He wasn't going to propose another chat? He looked like he wanted to but dared not, was this going to be the end then? Was his plan going to fall to pieces because Frederick had suddenly turned shy of him? No! Simon had decided this was the man he wanted to be the first man to touch him intimately, and he was not going to let that chance just slip by.

Though he hated himself for it, there was nothing Frederick could do to make this moment last longer. The letter had been handed over, now it was time to go back to the front of the house and entertain Miss Darcy. But he didn't want to, he wanted to be with Simon, admire him as he talked about his passion for fabric and clothes, or his youth and his siblings. Or even tell him more about his own youth, it was hard but the sympathy in the younger man's voice and words more than made up for that. What had happened to his self-assurance, why was he staring at Simon like a cornered rabbit? He only had to invite the man he admired to chat a little while, his master and mistress were out, there was nothing for him to do, he had time until they returned. What did it matter if he did not love men like Frederick did, they could have a little chat, couldn't they?

'Is there anything else I can do for you?' Simon asked politely. See, it was time to leave, he had no further excuse to stay any longer. But what was Simon doing now? Instead of politely leading Frederick to the door, the beautiful Adonis was looking straight at him, whilst slowly unbuttoning his livery coat. One by one, the slender right hand undid six, seven, eight burnished silver buttons, causing the whole front of the coat to fall open, exposing a delightful chest of the palest cream skin. There wasn't a single hair on that delicate, slender shape, just the creamy chest with two tiny pink nipples urging Frederick to stroke it and suck them gently.

Disbelief and self-doubt warred with love and passion inside him, and passion won. Controlling himself with an iron will he looked Simon straight in the eye, to see whether he could read him at all: was this a plot to bring him down? Or did he mean it, was he indeed a kindred spirit and, for some unfathomable reason, attracted to Frederick? There was a challenge in Simon's demeanour, but a hint of shyness as well, and that decided Frederick: he could not deny his feelings, he had to seize the chance that this was real.

Keeping a strong rein on his passion, Frederick released the feelings of love that had been growing since he first met Simon. It had been his beauty that struck him first, and even now he barely dared touch that perfect chest with the unblemished pale skin, but he did it anyway. Both hands simultaneously felt its softness, with the solidity of muscle underneath, and he no longer cared about the consequences of his boldness, whatever happened would be worth this short trip to heaven. As he noted there was hair on that delightful chest after all, it was blond and therefore barely visible, he pushed his face against it and inhaled deeply. It was as good as he had imagined, and even if Simon were to clout him for his boldness, this was a moment he would cherish forever.

But the blow he half-and-half expected did not come. Instead, he felt a deep shudder beneath his cheek, and a hand stroked his head gently, from his forehead straight through his hair, and back over his cheek to his chin. Looking up, he saw the face of an angel gazing back at him with as much intensity as he felt himself, and he righted himself to take the entire angel in a firm, passionate embrace.

'I knew you would be passionate, but you're even stronger than I imagined!'

Simon's face was close to his own and was smiling sweetly, but he was obviously not comfortable in Frederick's tight grip. A bit ashamed of his lack of control he almost let go entirely, but that wasn't what Simon wanted either.

'Just kiss me, my love, but be kind, I've never been with a man before and I'm a bit impressed by your passion and your strength.'

This was not the moment for talk, but Frederick couldn't help expressing his surprise.

'You've never made love before? Then what you just did was even braver than I thought, though I have to admit to some doubt, dear Simon, I feared you were trying to expose me as a degenerate.'

Simon replied with a fond smile, but also used his time well by undoing Frederick's much smaller shirt buttons.

'I am what you are, Frederick, and I guessed what you were from the first, though I didn't know for certain. I also knew you were in more doubt, which is why I took a risk. But I am not unblemished, I have slept with plenty of women before I had to face my perversion and stopped making love altogether. This will be my first time with a man, and I hope you will be kind to me.'

A hand now explored the inside of his shirt, and soon it was Simon who buried his face in the wealth of black hair on Frederick's chest. He did not seem disgusted by it, indeed he seemed to relish it. Just seeing his beautiful face and realising he would be allowed to kiss those lips was enough to stop his heart.

'I could never hurt you, my love. Do you still think what we feel is evil?'

Simon's face became a little thoughtful, but he did not stop caressing Frederick's broad chest, on the contrary, his elegant hands were quite obviously enjoying the feel of Frederick's solid muscle as he moved his hand from the broad chest to those enormously strong arms.

'Well, the way I feel now is at the very least sinful, but I don't think love can ever be truly evil, no. I do know I've never wanted a woman as much as I want you right now, and if that makes me a bad man, I'll have to live with that. Now don't make me beg you to kiss me.'

He would never allow Simon to have to beg for anything ever again. Whatever was needed, he'd do it to be able to stay close to him.

And then they kissed, and for a few moments there was total quiet as they relished the intimacy. It was so good to be held in someone's arms again, and Simon smelled and tasted so good. Then lust took over and they sent shirts flying, dropping on the bed as one whilst groping and kissing greedily. Frederick had totally forgotten about Simon's inexperience with men, this all felt so natural to him, but when he grabbed for the buttons of Simon's pantaloons, the younger man hesitated. Although his partner obviously felt plenty of passion he probably had a whole lot of preconceived notions of what men did together when making love. He might expect Frederick to take what he wanted, the prospect of which might rightfully frighten him. It was better if they slowed down, and saved some for another time, when they weren't both expected to be somewhere else, soon.

'Simon, do you mind slowing down a little? A lot? I want us to do this right but we cannot in the short time before we will both be missed. Shall we meet up tonight? Right here? And spend the rest of our time now just fondling and kissing and getting to know each other?'

It was so hard to be the one to suggest postponing what he wanted so much, he was so afraid that once he'd left, Simon would come to regret his brazenness and back out of the whole thing. Simon had only seen the forceful side of Frederick so far, gripping him so tightly, his ardour had run away with him and he was afraid he had been bit overwhelming, letting Simon feel his physical strength when he'd already experienced his dominant character. It was time for Frederick to show his softer side, he wanted Simon to like him but so far he seemed to have done everything wrong.

Interestingly enough, Simon wasn't at all afraid of Frederick's physical strength and dominant character, even the profusion of hair and the masculine smell of the man lying beside him didn't put him off but rather excited him, very much so. It was hard to keep his passion down, but it was the right thing to do, they both had places to be very shortly, and if Simon was very honest with himself, he needed some time to think. Was this what he wanted? To be intimate with an admirable man, a man he would probably come to love, only to lose him?

'A penny for your thoughts, Simon, you're so quiet. You're not sorry you did this, are you? Was it too much? I know I'm strong, and did get a bit lost in ardour.'

Sitting side by side on the bed now, stroking the other slowly and gently, Simon wasn't sorry at all. If he could spend all his nights like this he would be very happy, it would just be so hard to give it up again.

'Just thinking about what happened, Frederick, not overcome at all. I'm a man, you know, I've been in the throes of lust myself. Your strength just made me want you more, your extreme masculinity made it so clear to me that this was what I'd yearned for all these years, that a woman was just not for me. Your body hair, your muscle, your strength, even your dominance, I loved them from the first. And I'm glad you were sensible just now for my passion did get the better of me for a few moments there, I would have forgotten my master until he rang for me and that would be a first, he would certainly have noticed.'

It was easier than Simon would have thought to control his lust and just enjoy kissing, stroking and talking for another quarter of an hour. Then they both got up from the bed, Simon's livery looking as neat and smooth as ever once he'd buttoned it up, but Frederick's shirt decidedly rumpled and his coat a bit of a mess. Finally, Simon had an excuse to get his hands on Frederick's clothes, and he managed to tuck the shirt in his breeches in a way that didn't show the wrinkles too badly. The coat proved its workmanship by letting itself be smoothed reasonable flat by Simon's deft hands. He controlled himself by tying Frederick's cravat in the same knot he had unravelled with one hand, though his fingers did itch to show the older valet that he really needed to give it a little more effort.

A long, ardent kiss didn't make parting any easier, but it had to be done, and Simon checked the hall, finding it empty, which meant Frederick could leave safely. Tonight they would meet again.