John nearly made it out of the house.
Unfortunately, Hardacre was waiting for him in the kitchen and came out
immediately with his jacket.
‘The club, sir?’ he
asked, knowing full well what was in his master’s diary. John refused to be
exasperated.
‘Annual Ethian
Commercial Syndicate meeting...’
‘Sounds fascinating...’
responded Hardacre
John flashed him a
completely false smile.
‘Yes, indeed it will
be, Laurence – wall to wall movers and shakers’
He stood up so that
Hardacre could put his jacket on for him. Hardacre brushed it down and then
stared at his trousers. His voice dripped with accusation.
‘How long have you
been wearing those, sir?’
‘Just a few
minutes...’
Hardacre shook his
head.
‘These are dress trousers, sir. If you lounge about
in them then they lose their creases’
‘Lounge about,
Laurence – when do I ever do
that?’
Hardacre titled his
head infinitesimally.
‘Are you aware that I
have been trying to talk to you all day, sir?’
John shrugged.
‘I’ve been busy...’
‘I left you a note’
‘Did you? Where was
that?’
‘On your tea tray,
sir, this morning – I can’t believe that you missed it’
John was now ready to
catch his carriage. He could see no real
way to escape, however. They would have to have this conversation.
‘What was the note
about?’ he asked, feebly.
‘The employment of an
apprentice’ responded Hardacre, ‘you need to approve my draft advertisement’
John smiled and
nodded.
‘Well, if that’s
all... I approve it, with pleasure’
Hardacre picked up a
sheet of paper from the hall table. He positioned himself in front of the front
door – between John and freedom.
‘I need you to read
it first, sir; otherwise we may get into difficulties later’
He thrust the paper
into John’s hands. John sighed.
‘I need to send the
advertisement to the Chronicle
tomorrow morning’
‘I really don’t have
time now, Laurence’
‘It’s a few lines of
text, councillor Ismay, not a doctoral dissertation’
John read it.
Wanted
– under-valet to serve in busy household for unconventional, somewhat
eccentric, gentleman. House is large and demanding, with many guests, who
frequently arrive without warning. At least five years’ service is expected as
a minimum and we will seek references. We are looking for a well organised, completely
trustworthy, gentleman’s servant with common sense, a high tolerance of mess,
and excellent organisational skills . Position is required due to the frequent
absences of the head valet, who is often away on his master’s business. Apply
to Mr Laurence Hardacre, PO Box 279, Kinspit Post Office.
‘Why didn’t you give this address?’
asked John
‘That’s not the done thing, sir’
Hardacre said snootily, ‘not the done thing at all’
John gave up on that tack, and tried another.
‘So which of those is
a euphemism for “homosexual”, Laurence, “unconventional” or “eccentric”?’
‘Neither, sir –
that’s absolutely none of my business. I was simply trying to describe you as
accurately as possible. I can change the wording as you wish, of course...’
‘The wording is
fine... can I go to dinner now?’
‘I would never stand
in your way, sir’
John walked around his
servant and then headed straight for the door. He didn’t look back. Hardacre was left to close it. It was almost
dark outside and the smell of Ipomoeas filled the air.
Hardacre walked out
through the still open door. He stood on the porch for a moment and watched the
light of John’s carriage hurry away. Then he stepped back inside, closed the
door and went into the kitchen to prepare supper for his guests. He was cooking
a large haunch of venison, steamed broccoli, wine vinegar red cabbage, and a
huge pile of roast potatoes.
