Nothing could have prepared me for the shock that the handwriting on my beloved love note was clearly Jimmy's. How such a thing was possible, I had absolutely no idea. I cursed myself for not finding out sooner, but after that fateful night that went so horribly wrong, it had been clear that Jimmy had no interest in me.
The obvious conclusion had been that Miss O'Brien had written the note as the final touch to complete her devious scheme. But now I knew otherwise, and my head spun with the implications. What was Jimmy playing at? Had he written the note as a joke? I couldn't believe that was true, yet what on earth was I expected to think?
Had Jimmy been waiting for me to respond to the note, before confessing his true feelings? I had certainly made my continuing attraction plain two nights ago.
"You know why," I had told him, with deep meaning behind the words. And he had responded equally plainly:
"I can never give you what you want."
Surely if Jimmy had had any doubts about my continuing feelings, they would have been laid to rest during that discussion, but he had made it clear where things stood with him. And I had gratefully welcomed his new friendship, knowing full well there would be nothing more.
Now, I was feeling hope like I hadn't felt since Miss O'Brien had begun dropping hints about Jimmy over a year ago. And I had no idea what to do. How in the world would I approach Jimmy, and what would I say? What if I was somehow mistaken about the whole thing? I supposed it was possible that Miss O'Brien was a skilled forger, but I doubted it.
After a long and restless night, I got up, dressed, and joined the others for the servants' breakfast, despite my soreness. The cuts and bruises were slowly fading, though, and I thought I would probably pass Mr. Carson's inspection should I be needed to wait at table.
"Back with us, I see, Mr. Barrow?" Mr. Carson asked as he buttered his toast.
"Yes, Mr. Carson. I know there must be a lot to do what with the funeral preparations," I answered.
"Indeed there is," the head butler said, his bushy eyebrows furrowed. "And Alfred finds himself ill, in a most untimely manner, I might add, so your assistance would be greatly appreciated. A number of house guests are expected this evening, who will be attending tomorrow's funeral."
"Of course," I responded. "What should I see to first?"
"If you would be so good as to assist James this morning, I would be obliged," Mr. Carson answered. "The hall boys have their half day off today and Her Ladyship has requested that the new furniture that arrived last month be arranged in some of the guest rooms, and the old and damaged items must be moved to the burn pile. I've written a list of what goes where."
I glanced over at Jimmy, who was shoveling in his breakfast like there was no tomorrow. He nodded and we exchanged quick smiles. I saw Miss O'Brien's keen eyes observing our exchange and wondered what she was thinking. As under butler, the task I had been given was beneath me, and she knew it, yet I wasn't complaining. No time to worry about my devious former friend now, though.
"Right, well, we'd better get started," I said to Jimmy as Ivy began clearing away the empty dishes, lingering an extra moment as she took Jimmy's plate while the young footman appeared oblivious. After all this time, her attraction to Jimmy was apparently just as faithful as my own.
We're in the same boat, Ivy, I mused silently, feeling genuine sympathy for the kitchen maid, who got along well with everyone. Except you haven't got an unexplained love note, at least not as far as I know.
"Crikey," Jimmy panted a few minutes later as we wrestled a chest of drawers up the back stairs. "This weighs a bloody ton."
We reached the top of the stairs and made our way through several corridors before finally locating the guest bedroom where the new piece of furniture was to be placed. We worked together to move out the existing chest of drawers before settling the new one in its proper place.
"Don't tell Mrs. Hughes we didn't clear out the dust bunnies first," I laughed as Jimmy began coughing. I frowned with concern when his coughing continued for a minute or two before he finally stopped.
"It's my asthma," Jimmy explained. "It usually only flares up now and then in the cold air or when I breathe too much dust."
"Well, have a bit of a rest, then," I encouraged my friend. "If anyone walks in, I'll explain the circumstances."
Jimmy flopped down on the bed, his blond hair becoming tousled in the process. God, how I wanted to join him there.
"Now this is a bed I wouldn't mind sleeping in," he remarked, luxuriating in the plush, oversized guest bed. "My mattress is so lumpy and thin I'd be better off on the floor. I haven't slept in a bed this grand in quite some time."
Neither had I, come to think of it, not since the happy nights I spent with the Duke so many years ago. But when had Jimmy slept in a bed like this?
"S'pose I've already said too much, but I may as well tell you the rest," Jimmy continued. "I was afraid I'd said too much to Mr. Carson when he interviewed me for this job last year. I told him that Lady Anstruther begged me to go with her to Paris, and I think he thought I was speaking rather disrespectfully of my employer, but it's nothing but the truth."
I waited for Jimmy to continue, curious to see where this was leading, though I had begun to guess.
"You see, she's a widow, a young one, but older than me. Probably your age," Jimmy went on. "Her husband was positively ancient and he died not long after I was promoted to footman. A few months after that, I received a private invitation to her bedroom."
Jimmy's cheeks flamed, but I wasn't shocked; simply interested.
"I knew very little about what goes on between a man and a woman but she…she wanted to teach me. She paid me extra beyond my footman's wages. I spent most of my nights with her up until she got the idea to move to Paris. She was very cross with me when I said I didn't want to go. Have I shocked you, Mr. Barrow?"
I laughed easily. "Jimmy, considering our history, I think you've earned the right to confide anything in me without fear. It would take a good deal to shock me."
"I'd never slept with anyone, Mr. Barrow, and she was my superior. It was a good position and I didn't want to give it up."
Now Jimmy was sounding a bit defensive. Did he really think I was judging him? Quite the contrary – I was elated that my friend was confiding in me.
"Well, why would you say no under any circumstances, Jimmy? A red-blooded young man like yourself? I'd imagine you were in heaven," I replied with a bit of a wicked grin. Jimmy blushed again. I was testing him, trying to determine what was going on with this enigma of a young man.
"Well, we're both men, Mr. Barrow. I don't have to tell you being with a real person was a sight better than doing it on me own," Jimmy admitted and I burst into laughter again.
"Mr. Travis is coming for dinner tonight, Jimmy," I teased. "Suppose I tell him you've just admitted to practicing what the church refers to as self abuse?"
Jimmy was bright red again and I felt a bit of a thrill to be taking the conversation in this direction. If I wasn't careful, my trousers would give away to Jimmy just how much I was enjoying this conversation. The thought of Jimmy alone in his bedroom, head thrown back in ecstasy as he experienced the throes of "self abuse" was a tantalizing one.
"That's what I can't abide about the church," I went on. "Vicars care more about what goes on behind closed doors than they do about caring for the poor."
"Don't speak that way about the church," Jimmy protested, to my surprise. "It isn't right."
"I thought you were more of a free thinker," I said. "They're just men, Jimmy; they've no right to tell anyone how to live their lives."
Jimmy made no answer and I changed course.
"So why didn't you want to go to Paris with Lady Anstruther, then?" I prodded. "Why give up such a good thing?"
"Because it weren't right, Mr. Barrow," Jimmy mumbled.
"Because you say so or because the church says so?" I countered.
"Both," Jimmy answered and he looked so miserable I felt truly sorry for him. "It felt good, and it was nice not to have to sleep alone. But during the day she wouldn't even look in my direction. At night, she called me her "sweet plaything" and told me I was handsome, but that's where it ended."
Poor Jimmy. I wanted more than anything to put my arms around him.
"I think all these notions about love are just rubbish," Jimmy went on. "You read about it in books, but I didn't feel any of that and neither did she. I wanted" – he choked back a sob – "I wanted her to tell me she loved me, like my mother used to tell me every night. But she never did."
"You miss your mother, don't you," I said thoughtfully as he nodded. Jimmy was a complicated puzzle. Why was he telling me about Lady Anstruther? To make sure I knew where he stood and what his preferences were? Well, he'd have to try harder than that. I knew that men like me had been known to sleep with women. The Duke certainly had, and in fact, I'd heard several years ago that he'd finally managed to marry an heiress like he'd planned, and now had two children.
It occurred to me that Jimmy was sounding more like a lonely child than a spurned lover. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but I couldn't help noting that he had made no reference at all to physical attraction to his employer. I'd spent enough time at the pub to know how men talked about women, and never once had I heard one fail to mention which body parts excited him the most. And I had most definitely never heard a man compare a lover to his mother.
Then I mentally shook myself. It was impossible to say if Jimmy really was a man like me. The note could have easily been a joke of some kind. I had to try to avoid getting my hopes up.
"So you said no to Paris," I concluded.
"Didn't see the point," Jimmy shrugged. "I didn't want to keep up our arrangement for the rest of my life, and I never much liked the idea of leaving England – thought I'd get homesick. Guess it's a bit silly with my mum and dad gone, but there it is."
"It makes sense to me," I said as I dared so sit down on the bed next to Jimmy. "And for what it's worth, I'm glad you ended up here."
Jimmy smiled for the first time since breakfast.
"I'm glad too, Mr. Barrow," he answered. "Well, as much as I'd like to spend the rest of the morning in this bed, I think I'm feeling well enough to keep working. Maybe I'll find myself in here again some night, if my sleep walking keeps up."
"Sleep walking?" I wondered.
"I've been that way ever since I was little. I get up and walk about at night in my sleep, and sometimes I'll wake up somewhere strange, like a cupboard, or I'll wake up and discover I've polished my shoes during the night or something silly like that. The odd thing is, I never remember doing it."
"Well, just don't sleep walk into Mr. Carson's room, or he'll not thank you for it," I grinned and Jimmy laughed.
We went about our numerous tasks, and the day passed quickly. With Alfred sick, I put on livery and served at table with Jimmy, inwardly smirking as I served Mr. Travis, as I was reminded of Jimmy's and my earlier conversation. The mood at dinner was a somber one, though, and despite my happiness over my new friendship, I still felt keenly the loss of Mr. Matthew, and the cloud that hung over the house with his impending burial.
At long last, the servants' dinner was over and most of us sat around the table in the servants' hall, reading, drinking coffee, or working on sewing and repairs. I was tired, but I was determined to stay as long as Jimmy did. One by one, my fellow servants got up, said their good nights, and departed for their rooms until only Jimmy, Miss O'Brien and I remained.
I kept my head down as I read my newspaper, silently willing the woman to leave. At long last, she rose and headed for the door, pausing only to say snidely,
"I suppose I'll leave the two of you alone, then."
Jimmy's head shot up from the magazine he had been reading and I saw surprise and worry in his face. If looks could kill, Miss O'Brien would have perished on the spot thanks to me. I watched as she made her way up the stairs, then I turned to face Jimmy. I pulled the letter from my pocket. My heart was pounding out of my chest and I wondered if I'd have the courage to continue. Common sense was telling me that this confrontation could end in disaster, but I couldn't stand to wait any longer.
"Jimmy," I began hesitantly. "There's something I need to show you…and ask you."
Thank you all for the reviews! Comments and suggestions are very welcome, as always, and sorry to leave you with another cliffhanger! I'll try to post the next chapter soon!