Day 9

"I have heard, Marcus," Aunt Mathilda said to Danny as she settled her hat — a man's gray felt fedora with a small curled pink feather and antique marcasite brooch on the band — and picked up her briefcase-like handbag, "that your Aunt Claudia has wedged her unfortunate nose into the Fall Play this year."

"Yes, ma'am; she's offered to pay for the costumes," Danny replied, taking his great-aunt's gloved hand and tucking it into the crook of his elbow as they descended the library steps and continued up Pine Street.

"Claudia doesn't 'offer' to do anything, Marcus," Aunt Mathilda sniffed contemptuously, "She blackmails people into falling in line with her wishes by making a pretense of some minor concession. What does she want in exchange for the costumes?"

"She wants me to be given a role in the play," Danny responded miserably.

"Danny — Marcus I mean — is going to play Tybalt in Romeo and Juliet!" Jeremy told her excitedly, still thinking this role was a signal honor.

"How times do change," Mathilda chuckled mirthlessly, "When Maude wished to appear in the school play as Lily Miller in Ah, Wilderness!, our sister-in-law — your grandmother, Marcus, who was just as much a blue-nose busybody as Claudia — made such a stink you'd have thought Maude was proposing to appear nude in public."

"Aunt Claudia seems to think that if a Vandervere is on the program, it must be in the cast rather than the crew," Danny snorted, "I wanted to do set design and construction, not to act."

"I'm sure you'll be a credit to the name whichever you do," Aunt Mathilda assured him, "Are they doing the sword-fighting on stage in this production? That is a talent you legitimately possess and of which you are rightly proud."

"Mr. Oland asked me to coach the other actors in fencing," Danny told her, "Which I am perfectly happy to do. But I am not an actor, it's not something I'm good at."

"Marcus, you are good at so many things," Aunt Mathilda's voice took on the dangerous softness that signaled she expected you to take her next words to heart, "You have so many talents, almost everything you've undertaken has come easily to you. I think you should embrace this challenge and meet it head-on; it will be character-building to work hard at something that doesn't come easily."

"Why is it," Danny wondered in a stagey voice to show that he was joking, "that everything which builds character is either tedious or embarrassing?"

Aunt Mathilda and Jeremy laughed obligingly as they ascended the stairs onto the mansion's front porch and the ancient Oscar opened the front door to them.

"Good afternoon Miss Mathilda, Master Marcus, Master Jeremy," Oscar croaked in a voice that had once been an impressive basso profundo and now sounded like granite pebbles rattling around in a wooden box. He was well over ninety, possibly approaching a hundred, but refused to retire; the Aunt Ems had grown up with him in their home, first as the gardener's boy, then as a driver, then as their butler, and were loath to part with him — so since he was remarkably healthy for his age and had all his mental faculties, nobody wanted to force him out of work.

Aunt Myrtle and Aunt Maude were already ensconced in the music room, seated in matching balloon-back chairs with a tea-table groaning under the weight of cookies, petits-fours, scones with Devon cream, deviled eggs, and a glittering Edwardian garland-style tea service of unimaginable complexity. They remained seated as Danny and Jeremy kissed their hands, fluttering their lace handkerchiefs and fussing with their matching chiffon afternoon dresses, Myrtle in pale green and Maude in pale peach, as the boys complimented their appearance and Mathilda helped herself to black coffee and a plain butter cookie.

After putting away two cups of Earl Gray, a scone, and four deviled eggs, Danny went to the piano and played some Chopin etudes, then inveigled Jeremy into singing some respectable old show-tunes to Danny's accompaniment; at first Jeremy was too shy to sing to the old ladies, but Aunt Mathilda tartly pointed out to him that an actor cannot afford to be shy under any circumstances.

With tea over with, Danny and Jeremy went up to Danny's room to study; but they did no studying that afternoon: as soon as the door closed behind him, Danny pulled Jeremy into a long and intensively seductive kiss that eventually led to some hot and heavy making-out on the bed.

"Wait, stop," Jeremy gasped out after a while, putting his hand against Danny's mouth and arching his pelvis back and away from Danny's frighteningly huge erection. He had an infallible sense for when he was just about to give in and start pulling off his and Danny's clothes, and was absolutely terrified of going past that moment.

"Mmmph," Danny's protest was muffled against Jeremy's hand, but he acquiesced to the other boy's request and rolled off of him, though he kept his arms wrapped around Jeremy's narrow chest.

"I'm not ready," Jeremy said for perhaps the fifteenth time; every time they started kissing, they would get more and more involved until Jeremy's internal alarm went off; and every time he said he wasn't ready, in exactly the same tone and tempo, as if he were parroting back something he'd memorized.

"It's OK," Danny said for the fifteenth time, relaxing against the boy and letting his breathing return to normal, "I don't want to push you. But I want you to know I'll still love you either way."

"Do you really love me?" Jeremy turned his head and looked Danny in the eye.

"I really do love you," Danny equivocated: he wasn't in love with Jeremy, but he did feel a certain kind of love for him — the same kind of love he felt for his horse, and for Henry, and for chocolate pudding.

"Do you see other people?" Jeremy asked suddenly after a long companionable silence.

"Where did that come from?" Danny stalled.

"I see how people look at you," Jeremy was no longer looking into Danny's eyes, but rather at some point between his lip and his chin, "You can get anyone you want. And I see you looking at them, and I wonder if you are getting them."

"I'm not dating anyone else," Danny said carefully, choosing his words with legalistic precision. He never told any of his partners about any of his other partners, partly due to his code of honor which forbids kissing and telling, but also from a desire to not be seen by one and all as a ravening slut.

Jeremy gave him a long, searching look, kissed him lightly on the mouth, and extricated himself from Danny's embrace, saying, "This is such a beautiful room."

It was a beautiful room, octagonal since it was situated in one of the house's two towers, the one at the front overlooking the cul-de-sac around the grandiose fountain at the end of Pine Street. It had four tall Italianate arched windows heavily draped in pale lettuce-green damask, a coved ceiling centering a bronze chandelier crawling with Chinese dragons, and a pale green-veined white marble fireplace fitted with a beautifully ornate bronze Franklin stove; the walls were covered with silvery-green silk patterned with linden leaves above the carved green-gray pickled pine wainscotting, hung with lithographs of botanical illustrations in ornate silver-gilt frames, and the glossy hardwood floor was mostly covered with a circular Chinese rug featuring gold bats and white flowers scattered on a grass-green background.

The furniture, as in almost every other room of the house, was original: heavy, masculine Renaissance Revival pieces chosen by Danny's great-great-great-grandmother in 1880 when the house was built, upholstered in new but historically authentic cut velvets and embroidered satins in shades of pale green and silvery gray; the bed was narrow but surmounted by a regal half-tester draped in the same damask as the windows; there were gorgeous and valuable knick-knacks scattered liberally over every surface, ticking bronze clocks and gem-inlaid boxes, photographs and watercolor miniatures in intricate silver frames, little green Sevres vases filled with dried flowers and carved jade bowls on rosewood stands.

There was electricity, of course, all of the old gas fixtures and table lamps had been wired at the turn of the 20th century and updated in the twenties and again in the sixties; a heavy 1930s Bakelite telephone with a rotary dial stood on the table by the bed, and there was an electric button by the fireplace to summon servants; Danny had brought in a CD player that was hidden from view in the tall secretary desk, which also housed a laptop computer and a cell-phone charger; but at first glance the room had not changed much in the hundred and twenty-odd years since it had been decorated as the principle man's guest bedroom (in those days, even married couples were kept in separate accommodations).

"Isn't it?" Danny agreed, wondering what had brought on the non-sequitur, "I feel very honored the Aunt Ems gave it to me, it's one of the most important rooms. Three governors and five senators have slept here."

"That must have been quite a party!" Jeremy joked.

"Not all at once, smartypants," Danny reached out and grabbed Jeremy by the waist, tickling him until he fell in a helpless heap on the floor. And once incapacitated, Danny lay down on him and started kissing him again, taking turns between sucking on his mouth and gnawing on his neck just below the collar of his shirt, making him squirm and moan.

Before Jeremy had a chance to tell Danny to stop, they were interrupted by Oscar knocking quietly on the door to tell them that it was almost six o'clock and the car would be brought around to take them both home. Danny thanked Oscar without opening the door, and he and Jeremy spent a few moments straightening their clothes and quietly exchanging ideas about weekend plans; they headed down the operatically grand mahogany staircase, with its deep red Persian runner and tall stained-glass bay window at the half-landing, into the dark and strangely creepy front hall and onto the front porch. The Aunt Ems had already retired to their rooms to dress for dinner, so Danny didn't say goodbye to them, nor was he expected to; he and Jeremy slid into the back seat of the old Cadillac and waited for Oscar to shuffle around to the front and start the car.

They rode in silence all the way to Jeremy's house, which was just off the Lake Road in one of the older subdivisions; his parents, who both worked at Vandervere Mills in managerial capacities, lived in a large rambling mock-Tudor with stone chimneys and climbing roses, built in the mid-twenties, a really charming house that suited their very charming son.

When Oscar opened the door for Jeremy, Danny leaned over to give him a parting kiss, but Jeremy shied away from him with frantic glances at the elderly butler.

"Do you mind if I kiss Jeremy good-bye, Oscar?" Danny asked the old man, grabbing Jeremy by the arm so he couldn't get away.

"It's not my place to mind, Master Marcus," Oscar said, but smiled warmly as he said it, letting Jeremy know that he approved of them. Jeremy looked at the servant warily, but allowed Danny to kiss him passionately yet briefly before he scooted out of the car and scampered up the fieldstone walk to his parents' door.
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1952 Words
9929 Total Words