I had received a note from the Lady Fotheringham asking me to call upon her, it was rather a cryptic note but that was nothing unusual from the Lady Fotheringham. I had little doubt what she was after.
I did a few things around the house including having an exasperating discussion with Cook. One of the points we discussed being what we were to have for dessert on Christmas. Cook, of course, being common insisted on Trifle, like her mam had taught her to make.
It was much later than I would have preferred after cleaning myself up and making myself presentable that I collected Button and instructed him to drive me to my engagement.
The familiar fellow that he was becoming he enquired of the hat box I had under one arm.
One does not enquire of a Gentleman, Button. However, if you must know, I am to meet the Lady Fotheringham at our destination and it would not do to be without a gift.
Button winked rather salaciously. Cheeky fellow, he was definitely getting above his station. Still, one did have to have a man that they could depend upon, so I forgave him his transgression.
In little time at all we arrived. The address given on the note was a lonely old cottage set some distance from the main road. I stepped from the car. Bloody Lady Fotheringham, she did like her theatrics.
Wait for me Button. I may be a couple of hours.
I couldn't help but wink myself.
I pushed open the door to the cottage. I could see a light coming from the front room. I pushed open that door also.
You better have a bloody brandy poured already, it's cold out... oh?
Come in, come in dear fellow!
Boomed a familiar voice from a chair near the fire. It was Willard Ferenczy. Hmmph, the last I had saw of him was his pallid arse attempting to resist a Limequat being shoved up it. I couldn't help but giggle remembering his squeals.
I stepped further in and set the hat box down on the dresser.
No Lady Fotheringham then? May I ask what the bloody hell is going on?
Lady Fotheringham?
Willard's eyes sparkled in the firelight.
Oh no my friend, I am afraid that there will be no Lady Garden Schmaidy Garden for you tonight if that's what you and that bloody mare like to do of an evening.
But the note...?
Ah, your man has arrived. Don't you get it Boomy? The note was a ruse! A lure! To get you here.
Button entered and none too gently nudged me to a chair.
Ah, Button. You are involved in this charade? Well, Willard. Spit it out, man. What's all this about?
Willard leapt to his feet and threw a glass full of what smelled like Rum on the fire. It blazed high. Much like his temper.
What's this about?!?! WHAT'S THIS ABOUT?!?!? YOU HAD THAT BUFFOON STICK A LIMEQUAT UP MY ARSE!!
Willard pointed ferociously at Button who looked a little shamefaced. He ranted on.
Did it never cross your mind to get the feeble minded fool to at least cut his fucking fingernails? Oh, the indignity! I couldn't get it out. Three days it took. Eventually, I had to have one of my servants pierce it with a straw and suck out the insides before it would come out!?!! The look on his face. I had to let him go obviously. I couldn't have him speak to me with that mouth ever again.
Willard started to pace angrily.
I am a fucking Gentleman! What about the code? You broke the code!
Well to be fair, I circumvented it slightly. I didn't actually break it.
Things seemed to be getting out of hand, I reached inside my jacket for my pipe. Button stopped my hand and checked my pocket before giving a quick nod of assent. I quickly lit my pipe and had a good old puff whilst Willard got all his blather out of his system.
Willard stopped and faced me. If his face were any more purple he could pass for Button's mother in this light.
Circumvented, my arse. You broke it!
He yelled.
Broke the code or your arse?
I quipped.
Button let out an involuntary snort of laughter.
Willard rounded on him, spit flying from his mouth in fury.
You fucking IDIOT, you told me he killed your MASTER!
There was a deadly silence. I nodded.
Alright Willard. What do you want from me? An apology? For God's sake man, we are gentlemen. This isn't how gentlemen conduct business?
Willard smiled like an inmate at an asylum who has just discovered that the nurse has been pissing in his soup for months.
He stepped slowly toward me, the firelight behind him painting him quite the sinister figure.
What do I want, Boomy? What do I want? I want revenge. Plain and simple.
Willard moved, calmer now to his chair and smugly sat down. He paused and poured himself another Rum.
I want you... To die.
I removed the pipe from my mouth.
Die old fellow? That's a little extreme? For starters, how on earth would a pansy like you take a lion of a man like me down. Oh...
Button ground one of his big beefy hands down on my shoulder, hard.
Willard guffawed.
You still don't get it? That idiot isn't your man now. He will be the one to kill you! Oh and one other thing. This...
He pulled a Limequat from a pocket and held it up to the light.
This is going up your arse first.
I exhaled out exasperatedly.
Good god man. Are you actually being serious? You want to kill me because I got my servant to stick a lime-cat up your arse? You want to kill me for that?
Willard barked in triumph.
Yes, for that... For that you are going to DIE!!
He motioned to Button with the limequat.
You, you big lummox...Get this up him.
Button stepped forward and took the Limequat.
I caught Button's eye and spoke softly. Ever so softly.
Button, Have I ever called you names? No. I haven't, have I? I have always called you by your real name. The name your mam gave you. Right from the very first, I asked your name. Why? Because even then I saw something in you. Something that could be nurtured.
I gestured with my pipe to Willard.
In the short space of time we have been here he has insulted you several times. Why? Because you are nothing to him. But to me? Oh yes, Button. I had such plans for you.
Button stood transfixed. Willard chewed spasmodically. I carried on.
Did you ever wonder that I gave you an actual room of your own Button? Not many servants get that do they? Just in the door and a whole room to yourself. Why? Why would I do that? When you started playing corn beef bang-bang with Cook, I didn't stop you did I? In fact, I never even let on I knew. What kind of Master would let that happen eh?
I took a big suck of my pipe. Nobody in the room moved.
I will tell you why right now Button. Perhaps I see in you the son I never had. I see a strength and no, not just in body. A river of steel runs through you Button. In fact... I had thought to school you in the very ways of gentlemanhood. I cannot lie, I had hoped to make you a brother in arms. A gentleman like me. Can you imagine the team we would make?
You could have heard a penny drop.
Tell me Button. How much did he pay you?
Button opened his mouth and rolled his tongue around before stammering.
6 silvers and 2 boiled hams Milord.
I shook my head at Willard.
You could have at least made it 30 silvers eh?
I focussed back on Button.
And you were going to take Cook away with your new found silver and start a fresh life? 6 silvers wouldn't get you very far my ... friend. Imagine the life a gentleman could give your beloved. You could be that gentleman yet, Button.
I motioned to Willard with the slightest movement of my eye.
Button turned. Willard looked confused as if surfacing from a glamour.
Hey, wait, what are you doing you idiot!?
Button moved swiftly to the fireplace and pulled the poker from its stand. He looked at me nervously. Willard jumped to his feet.
I nodded at Button and the poker came crashing down.
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We sat and drank rum companiably after Willard had been despatched. Button was excited and apologetic at the same time, like a bulldog licking beef paste from a cock. After sometime the fire burned low and the brandy lower still.
We should probably go Milord? Perhaps burn the place with him in it?
A fine idea my friend. I was going to suggest the same.
I clapped him on the shoulder. He looked over at the gift I had gotten for Lady Fotheringham.
Sorry you bought a gift Milord, was it expensive?
I waved over magnanimously at the hat box.
A trifling matter old fellow. You can have it in fact. Please, be my guest!
Button beamed, I daresay I had never seen him so happy. He moved to the dresser and gently untied the ribbon around the hat box. He lifted the lid up... and gasped.
I pressed myself hard up behind him as he goggled in shock at the dismembered head of his beloved, Cook, in the box.
His legs gave way as I slid the dagger back out from his back.
You think I didn't know? You lobster faced idiot?
I hissed.
His eyes gaped in disbelief and horror as he slumped down. I snorted in disgust. Looks like I needed a new manservant and a cook. And just before Christmas too?
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Well, normally I would set up and start with some...
But this has been rather the extravagant writing this week so I will have to let these old fingers have a rest!
Service will resume as normal next week. I shall ensure to bait the SpamFarmers well.
