It was late in the morning, past eight o' clock, when I was finishing the master's tea, pulling scones out of the oven. Scones are rather easy to work up in the morning, and I decided light fare would suffice until elevenses.

I felt foul from being so non-active for such an extended period of time. It was normal for me to be in the kitchen by four of the early hour, preparing meals for the day, by five compiling the list of tasks to be done by the servants, by six preparing the master's clothes for that day, by six-thirty last minute breakfast preparations for the house, and by seven to knock up the young master.

I was behind schedule on all counts. The servants were up at seven o'clock, having slept in and wondering where I was. Ciel would not let me leave his bedchamber at a decent hour.

I thought of this bitterly as I pulled eggs from a boiling pot of water. I normally would not give the servants eggs like this on a weekday, but perhaps this would be enough to keep them quiet and not ask questions over the unanticipated change in routine.

I was placing tea and breakfast on a trolley when Mey-Rin slipped into the kitchen with a smug expression that was not befitting her, and far too idle for my liking. I would rather see my servants moving with a little more urgency.

"Tea is rather late," she chirped.

I refused to look at her. "Do you not have work to do, maid? Is there a carpet in the left wing parlor that is in need of beating out? There will also be linens to clean."

"The master's, no doubt, even if they were changed just past Monday." She sauntered toward me, a little too close for what I was willing to tolerate at the moment.

My eyes flashed as I whipped around to glare at her. "You are out of line."

"Am I?" She leaned in and whispered, "You were with the young master last night."

"Have you been spying?" I strained to keep my tone even.

"I went to your room, and you weren't there. You weren't there this morning either."

"So you admit to leaving your quarters last night."

"Briefly, for a trip to the loo." Her tone suggested this might not have been her true reason for being out of bed.

I grabbed her shoulders, using great effort to not shake her. "You were spying again."

"The door was shut, so no." She giggled. "But the young master can be heard straight through the corridor, even with the door locked."

I was in no mood to play games, and I was most certainly not in a mood to placate her. "Perhaps I do not keep you busy enough, Mey-Rin, that even after a 'hard day's work' you are alert enough to wander from your quarters. It will be a clear day today. See that you wash the windows outside. All of them."

She sputtered, "That's Finny's job!"

"He is running an errand in town for me today. I have had quite enough of your insolence." Walking past, I pushed the trolley ahead and out the kitchen.

I felt hateful enough to rip the limbs from a living thing, but restrained myself, since the closest living thing was an uppity maid whom Ciel would be quite angry if he discovered dismembered. Her thin attempts to be clever only succeeded in frustrating me further over the events of the previous night.

I had lay in bed with the young master through the night, with any attempt to squirm away being thwarted by a tight arm or a grasping hand. He had awoken at two in the morning for a brief moment, soft caresses along my chest and lips along my shoulder. He did not have to speak, only direct my hand to a pulsing erection, and he bucked into my grip. His scent of his desire overwhelmed me, and I could not stop myself from finishing him off with eager lips.

It was pathetic. After his breathing calmed, I was told to stay until morning. I lay motionless in the bed for four more hours. He watched me dress as the morning sun peaked through a crack in the curtains.

My presentation was disgraceful. My disregard for normal routine was abhorrent. Ciel would not reprimand me for these things, but how was I supposed to keep a household in line if I did not set the standard for impeccable self-discipline? It was no surprise to me why Mey-Rin possessed little inhibition around me this morning. This would not have been an issue if I had been allowed to retire to my own quarters that night, see to my duties as per my routine, and wake the master in normal fashion.

This was not the worst of it. It was his softness, his tenderness. His level of trust had developed to a much higher level. This was beyond the trust we had established those years ago, where I was concerned with his security and his knowledge of this was unwavering. No, this was a trust of the heart, and what was I to do with that?

He was placing himself in a state of vulnerability that I had no chance of rescuing him. The worst of it was, if this were to continue, I feared the effect it would have on me. I shuddered at the thought.

For the better part of the morning, I pondered over what his expectations of me might be, in light of these new developments. The young earl, on the other hand, seemed eager to start his work for the morning, still fighting with the poor management of the factory of Le Havre. His shouting in French could be heard from the front foyer.

By early tea he had pushed himself from his desk, his head hung in his hands, not yet defeated but frustration reaching his peak. "The manager, Monsieur Martel, he refuses to listen. Every time he's on the telephone, he makes excuses, and finally said something to the effect of, 'what is a kid who's across the Channel going to do about it?'"

Apparently, Martel was not aware of what happened when Ciel Phantomhive was challenged.

"There is a supervisor at the factory in London, Mr. Hameldon, bold but loyal to me, awaiting some opportunity to elevate his position." He was talking to himself more than to me. I poured the tea with no comment. "If I should take any course of action, better it be now. My chances of the profit I projected for France this quarter are null. I'll take the expense before Martel decides to take some drastic action. He would be inclined, I just know it." He sipped his tea as he stared unfocused out the window.

"Any way I can be of assistance in this, young master?"

He looked in my direction, as if suddenly remembering I was present. "Ah... Sebastian, expect Mr. Hameldon tomorrow for luncheon. I still need to call the manager in London, set this appointment so this supervisor and I can discuss a course of action for the Le Havre factory. It's a little short notice, but I have the feeling he will jump at the opportunity."

I was impressed by Ciel's ability to handle this situation aggressively and yet with calm authority. Upon leaving the office I shook my head, feeling silly for once again finding something fond about my master.

After Ciel set his appointment and cleaned his desk, he took the time to write back to his aunt, hoping that a Friday post would arrive well before he would next week. The next day Mr. Hameldon arrived at the manor for his luncheon appointment. He was a rather young gentleman, a little brutish in the face, with a gruff yet friendly smile. His physique suggested a hard worker, someone who found such activity a noble pursuit unto itself. He was somewhat of a learned man, his family nouveau riche and able to send their eldest to boarding school. His discerning eye suggested acute perception and sensibility.

I welcomed him from the front entrance, escorting him to the sunroom where luncheon would be served. It was a good day for it, for the sun was just warm enough to be welcoming, even if the air was still a little brisk. Spring was beginning to burst from every twig and branch, and surely in two weeks' time the gardens would be an explosion of color.

The young Earl wore his most mature disposition, forgoing his usual foppish attire for the more clean-cut and minimalist London fashion many business men were opting for at the time. He even decided full trousers were the better option. I thought it so entertaining, how in one sense, Ciel chose to pose as the precocious young man who acted twice his age, and yet at the drop of a hat he could express all the innocence and whimsy of a young child. It was whatever would better serve him for the occasion.

He sat across from Mr. Hameldon at the spindly table, more engrossed in the matter at hand, than the lunch I had prepared for the two. The arrangement might have been a little too ornate for a business meeting, but the London supervisor seemed enchanted by delicate china, crisp cucumber sandwiches neatly arranged, and sweet puddings presented in lavish serving dishes. A delicate Indian oolong accompanied such light fare.

The young Phantomhive explained his situation, how he wanted to send Mr. Hameldon across the channel with a formal notice that he would be taking over management of the factory for the short term. Mr. Martel would be placed on suspension until further notice. I stood silently as Ciel commanded the meeting with expert authority.

"I sincerely apologize that I must ask this of you, what with the holiday being upon us," the boy spoke formally, "but I can no longer tolerate the mismanagement of my Le Havre factory, seeing as how they are one of my largest port factories, other than London. But, that is why I have chosen you to sort this out." He set his elbow on the table, leaning forward with his chin propped under his knuckles, his eye piercing. "Mr. Reynolds, your boss, has had only fantastic things to say of you and sees a bright future for you in this corporation. Here is an opportunity to prove this to me."

Any other person sitting in Mr. Hameldon's position would bow with humility, be beside himself with such an offer. Instead, the young man sat coolly, his gestures indicating he was receptive to what the Earl was telling him, but gave no supplication. He replied calmly, "I am grateful to your offer, Earl Phantomhive. Please tell me, should Mr. Martel give me any trouble...?"

"I am in the process of contacting local authorities. They will be available, should you need a police escort." Mr. Hameldon's eyebrows rose slightly, giving away his reserved surprise. The boy caught this gesture and his lip curled. "It seems you are not entirely aware of how far-reaching my influence is, Mr. Hameldon. Le Havre has only benefitted from my presence there, and to solidify my reputation in the area, their police force has received considerable charity from me." He raised his tea cup to his lips and before continuing and cut a sharp look at the man across the table. "I always get what I want."

"I have no doubt of that, Earl."

I noticed the master's cup was barely full and approaching I inquired, "May I refresh your tea, my lord?"

"Yes, it has gone cold." His eye softened as he looked at me, pouring his tea. His fingers grazed my own as I handed him his cup and saucer. "Thank you, Sebastian." Any trace of sharpness in the boy's countenance was lost in an instant.

As I offered more tea to Mr. Hameldon, I noticed that exchange was not lost on him either. He leaned back in amusement, one leg crossed over the other. Ciel was too absorbed with fresh tea to notice.

I pardoned myself, making the excuse that there was another matter that needed my attention. Ciel craned his neck to watch me leave. I pushed my trolley back to the kitchen, cleaning its contents with a dizzying speed, and crept back to where the two were lunching.

I had left the door ajar to the sunroom, which sat off the back of the manor. Its adjacent wall was paneled and solid, so I could not be seen strolling back, unless I was to make my presence known at the threshold.

Mr. Hameldon cajoled, "I get the acute impression that you and your butler are... close."

"Sebastian has gone to great lengths to ensure my security. I am grateful for it."

"And what has he received in return, Earl Phantomhive?"

There was a silence. "What are you suggesting, Mr. Hameldon?"

"I simply find it curious, to see such familiarity between master and servant."

I hear the chink of china, Ciel setting down his tea cup. "You mistake loyalty for familiarity."

"Two conditions which are not so different. Let's not get caught on semantics."

"Then speak plainly." I noted a hint of irritation in my master's voice.

"What are you hiding, Lord Phantomhive?"

The young master chuckled. "Do you honestly believe you are in a position to inquire of my private life?" He raised his voice. "I have offered you a generous opportunity, one I would not give lightly, much less to one as common as yourself. I chose you because I trust the recommendation of your employer, who has also shown me loyalty. Do not let your perverse curiosity squash any chance you might have to move above your station. Am I speaking plainly enough for you?"

Mr. Hameldon must have been amused by this threat, for he laughed outright. "My young lord, you are so quick to find threat! Do you believe I am out to slander you?"

"You wouldn't be the first, but know that I have disposed of some for committing far less."

"I have no doubt." Mr. Hameldon must have paused for another sip of tea. "I like you, Earl Phantomhive."

"I'll return that sentiment when I see results in Le Havre. I have passage across the Channel arranged for Monday morning." I heard the shuffling of papers. Ciel seemed eager to end this meeting. "I assume your paperwork is in order?"

"Yes sir."

"Here are detailed analyses of production from the past three months. I doubt they're accurate, but I need you to investigate their validity regardless. I want to see how much money I've lost over this fiasco. With this is a personal letter from me, should Mr. Martel doubt your claim. See, it has my seal. Again, you have resources available to you should things go awry." More shuffling, as Mr. Hameldon flipped through the folder. "I expect a full report after I return from holiday."

"Very well, my lord. Might I ask, where are you going for holiday?"

"The Midford manor." The shortness of his response indicated he did not want to speak of it. If Mr. Hameldon had picked up on this, he was going to ignore the hint.

"Ah, your fiancée and her family. The Marchioness is your aunt, am I right?"

"Mr. Hameldon, this meeting is over." Ciel got up from his chair. "Ring me when you arrive in France, and you better be expedient with that report."

Ciel decided after lunch he had enough work for the day. He spent his afternoon strolling across the grounds, making note that the hybrid tea rose bushes were budding. He would be back from holiday by the time they were in bloom.

After dinner, he excused himself to his smoking room with a book from the library. I assumed he wanted the time for himself, but it was well into the evening when he called for me.

He set his book down on the table when I entered, a tattered and dog eared copy of Carmilla. He did not appear uneasy, but the way he picked at a thread on the arm of his chair told me that he had much on his mind.

"I think I am in need of some company, Sebastian." He gestured to a chair across from him.

"I am flattered that I should be the one you would call to keep you company."

I sat and he huffed. "Be flattered all you like." He had a pipe sitting on the tray, and took it up, adding a pinch of tobacco from a small jar, and lit the bowl with a flourish. He flicked a smoking matchstick in the ash pan. "I have a lot on my mind."

"I gathered that."

"Am I always so easy to read, Sebastian?"

"No more than anyone else, I suppose. I like to believe that no one else knows you as well as me, so reading you is no difficult task." I paused, seeing his cheeks burning. "You are considering Mr. Hameldon from earlier today, are you?" Ciel pulled at his pipe. He would choke himself if he kept at it, I thought. Even if he had not had an asthmatic spell in a number of years, one never can be too careful.

The boy lowered his voice as he murmured, "He seemed to know. Was it so obvious to see?"

It was obvious to me; I noticed Ciel's fond look at me during lunch, brief as it may have been. It was obvious to me that Mr. Hameldon had picked up on it as well, his raised eyebrows having gone unnoticed by my master. Mr. Hameldon gave the air of a man who had acute attention to detail, who knew how to read people with stunning precision, and also possessed the cunning to use it to his advantage, if he so chose. On the other hand, he did not come off as one who was manipulative, but instead was aware of the maliciousness of others. People's cruelty was not something lost on him.

"But what does he know? He can make all the presumptions he likes, the fool." Ciel was gazing at a spot on the floor, more concerned for his own thoughts than carrying a conversation. "He claims that you and I are 'close,' but that can mean a number of different things. Surely he does not think... that would be ridiculous..."

"Might I inquire, what is on your mind, young master?"

He sat down his pipe, gathering his hands in his lap, as if to collect his thoughts. His lips were pursed, rather uncertain with himself. After a moment of silence, he replied, "Perhaps I am overacting, but I couldn't help but think... this is so silly. Mr. Hameldon could not keep his eyes off of me. I noticed how he watched me. I've seen you watch me that way, staring me down like an object of prey. I understand it coming from you - I've grown used to it coming from you. But I don't think I've ever seen that same look come from another man.

"He's not evil, he's not a devil like you – He's just a normal man. But... that look, he... desires me. And it just has my mind reeling, Sebastian. Men do not look at each other in that manner."

That last comment had my attention. "And what manner is that, young master? Sounds to me you are talking about a look of longing. Is it so far-fetched that men cannot desire each other?"

He stared at me, deadpan. "I used to believe that it was not possible, but I suppose it is." He picked up his pipe once more. His hands were shaking, and he had difficulty with his match. "It's rather irregular, don't you think? For men to want to be affectionate towards one another like a wife and husband should be." I did not like where this conversation was heading. "Am I irregular, Sebastian?"

"What sort of question is that?" I gripped the arms of my chair. "On what basis would you form this judgment?"

"Must I explain it? Honestly, you know my thoughts about Lizzie, oh, you know I'm well over it, but there are moments when I still feel guilt over my deception to her. And Mr. Hameldon, he had this look like he just... pardon if I sound vulgar, he looked as though he would devour me alive if given the chance. Please understand, I really have no interest in the man, other than wanting him to carry out my instructions... but I can't say I was appalled by his glances. I was... amused by them.

"And think of all that... you and me..." He did not want to give the details, a furious blush telling enough.

"Master... despite what propriety would have you believe..." I wanted to take his hands in mine, but I stayed myself. "This is not an irregularity."

He glanced at me from the side. He whispered, "It's not the late rendezvous, the pleasure. It's not the lust, Sebastian." He glanced at the book. "I feel this deep aberration within me, and I wish I could quell it, wish I did not feel this..." He stood up, pulling a bottle of bourbon off the mantel. The liquor splashed into the glass and half full, the young master gulped deeply from it.

I did not like where this conversation was heading. I too, felt the apprehension, a tight clutching in my chest, a voice in my mind screaming, do not admit it, young master! Do not speak this, for I feared it to be my own undoing. Was this his intention all along?

My voice was low, irritated. "It is sex, young master. You find me attractive, and while we do share a bond, it is the strength of our contract you feel." I growled, "Do not mistake this as anything else."

His glass was shaking in his hand. "You're wrong, Sebastian," his voice trembled. "There is more here."

He looked down at me with a watery eye, leaning against the mantel. "What has come over me?"

What did he expect from me? Did he expect me to embrace him, collect him to me and say that this, what this was, was mutual? Was he expecting me to return such affection? What affection was there to be had?

I could not help the anger that was welling in me. I could not help the reminder that chanted in my head, that I could not lie to this boy, because if I could, this situation would have been so much easier to deal with. Keeping secrets was one thing, but the pleading expression on his face told me he was expecting some kind of reply, some certainty in this matter.

"Do you want to know what has come over you?" My voice remained even. "You are a fool."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"How dare you speak to me like that?" Ciel cried.

"How dare you have the indecency to develop feelings for a servant?" I hissed. I could not help as my voice rose, livid I was. "It is one thing to beckon me to your chamber because you need some kind of relief. I can even accept if you find me attractive, if that adds to your pleasure. I can accept that that is who the young master is, a young man with very particular needs. But what do you expect to come of these feelings?"

His bottom lip trembled, and he tried to hide it as he put the glass to his mouth once more. He swallowed, and exhaled deeply. I could smell the alcohol on his breath. "I don't know. I don't know what to think anymore."

"Alright, I will tell you what to think." I was cold; I could not give a damn how much it hurt the young master to hear it. "I have been kind and accommodating for these past years, but have you mistaken my care as real affection? Do you forget what role I play in this contract?"

"Sebastian, I-"

"Do you expect you can change the terms of this contract? Do you expect your affections for me would change anything at all?"

"What are you saying?"

I could not contain my fury any longer. "What am I, young master? Have you become so familiar with me that you have forgotten what I am? Have you forgotten my reason for being by your side, what I am charged to do, and what I am to receive in exchange for the service I have given you?"

Ciel looked as though he wanted to curl into his chair, but he remained stiff and motionless. "I have not." He whispered. In silence, he poured himself more bourbon, as if this drink gave him the courage to speak. "It is this very fact that has me... unable to stand myself."

I was not expecting that last statement. I leaned back in my chair, trying to calm myself. He continued, "It does me no good to deny the obvious, we know this. Sebastian, I... how could I have helped this..." he sounded as if the words choked as they came up from his throat, "the only one who knows me, who understands me, who has given more of themselves than anyone else I know... how can I not...?" He coughed as he took a deep swig of the bourbon. "And all the while, I hate myself for this... for falling for a creature as terrific and detestable as you."

There was no more to be said. I leapt from my chair, left the room without permission, not caring of the rudeness or insolence of it. Ciel did not stop me.

I ran, ran from the manor, to the trees, over the hills. The forest stilled to silence as I rushed through bush and bramble, as though all living creatures within the wood sensed my fury and fled from it. I fled so that I could return to some shattered, incomplete state, if only for a time, so that I could remember my own sorrowful nature. There is comfort in Descent, certainty in the knowledge that I am hollow and have been cast aside.

I eventually returned to the manor, in the early hours of the morning, resolute in a new course of action.

Over the weekend I felt that Mey-Rin's tincture was ready, herbs having had ample time to steep in alcohol. It was diluted and I stood and watched Mey-Rin gulp down the awful draft, every last drop.

That evening, I heard her retching and wailing in the servant's toilet. I told the others to think nothing of it and to get back to work. I gave the maid that Sunday off.

Taking care of that business gave me a small feeling of accomplishment.