41 • Pious pt. 1

The shift of a glass on wood and the sound of drinking above him pulled James from sleep. The world was half lit, whatever light coming over William’s thigh meeting James’ face pressed against the study bed. “S’that water?”

“It is.” William held the tall glass on his thigh while James managed to sit up enough to drain it. Afterward, he collapsed on William’s torso, an arm flung over the man’s legs and whatever papers he had been reading. William’s fingertips dragged through the hair on his nape and behind his ears, lulling James back to sleep long enough for the late afternoon light to move off the bed. His hand pressing circles across James’ back roused him once more to consciousness.

“Will you go out to dinner with me?”

Much as the prospect of water had opened his eyes, James’ voice chirped, “Food?”

William chuckled under him. James liked how William’s voice hummed through his chest, and washed through his own. “Yes, food. In a restaurant too. Or pub. I rather like what pubs do with beets and potatoes.”

James smirked against William’s shirt, enjoying the feeling of him encased in softer casual wear. “You dine in pubs?”

“There’s one on nearly every street corner, how could I not?”

“I suppose it is perfectly likely there would be a pub or two for fancy folk,” James teased. “What’s different in their treatment of vegetables than in restaurants?”

“The latter uses butter and herbs for flavouring. Pubs use salt. I enjoy and prefer a simple, salty root vegetable. What?”

James’ shoulders moved with his quiet laughter. “Nothing. Mama makes potatoes sour whatever cream or cheese we have. With onions or garlic scapes on top. It’s divine.”

“I’m sure it is better than any restaurant.” James laughed and hitched a shoulder against the fingers stroking his earlobe. William mussed his hair and asked, “You seem in better spirits today. Has something happened?”

“I’m not sure,” James sighed before he remembered, “I had an interesting talk with Caroline.”

William made a sound that conveyed his curiosity and encouraged James to continue. “I didn’t expect it, knowing Charles as I do, but I think she’s incredibly lonely.”

William’s fingers flexed and relaxed unconsciously around James’ shoulder, stroking in time with his thoughts. “Should we invite her to dinner?”

“No,” James swatted aside. “I’ll have you all to myself.”

He moved with William’s laughter. “Lizzy, I believe you are what is becoming known as a brat.”

James chuckled to himself before climbing to his seat and then over William’s legs. “Come on. I have a limited window of time for niceties before hunger ravages me.”

With a hand on the study door, he swung himself into the corridor, but not without hearing a lowly uttered, “I’ll ravage the niceties out of you—”

A loud stumble vibrated through the walls, followed by recovery clatters. William rushed to his feet. “Lizzy?”

“I’m fine!” he said a little too high-pitched.

William peaked into the corridor. “Should I keep those contemplations to myself, then?”

“Dinner!” he avoided, but William saw him rotating as if he were lost. “Where are my clothes? God and Christ, we’ll never leave…”

William licked his lips and tried to rein in his smirk as he handed James’ outer garments to him from the study. “Give me but a moment. I need a different jacket.”

“Why?” James could not help but chirp, and then he followed William into one of the other bedrooms. It was obvious that this was where William would be residing until the renovations were finished, but between the bright, mustard seed paint, and the amount of raiment hanging about the room—as is William’s way, it was becoming more and more definitive—James could only sink into an upholstered chair while the man went about his business.

Eventually he had to inquire, “Isn’t there a…position for this sort of thing?”

William had been attending his boots in the meantime, but now he disappeared into the terse corridor leading to the closet. “Position?”

“Like a valet or steward, or something. Someone to manage your closet arrangement.”

He heard William laugh, “Does it officially bother you?”

“I’m not bothered, exactly. Just…I’m still shocked. I absolutely expected to be the untidier out of the two of us.”

“I did have a steward, but he is currently in the Netherlands. Has been for some time, I’m afraid. He’s technically not in my employment anymore, but I have provided the offer for an easy return, should he ever be in England again.”

“That doesn’t sound like he will be.”

“Right. I haven’t really minded, though. Wherever I am, there is always somebody to do whatever task. It’s been a unique learning curve as well as a change of pace, managing my own affairs.”

James snorted over his crossed arms. He had settled in the chair with and ankle over his knee. “How mundane.”

William emerged with a jacket and pointed look. “I don’t mean to trivialize anyone else’s daily living. In fact, I admire and respect it with newfound clarity.”

James frowned at the deep blue riding jacket he was shrugging into. “Are we riding there?”

“No, but this is one of my more worn out garments.”

James’ features widened as he openly gaped with mischievous glee. “Are we to be covert for dinner?”

“Not entirely,” William responded over adjusting his sleeves and a nervous glance at him. “I’ll still be a Darcy, but it is a wonder how a humbler fabric negates untoward eyes. Perhaps with a Bennet buying dinner, I won’t be noticed at all.”

James grinned. “It’d be my pleasure.”

* * * * * * *

William chose the place, but James chose the table. Odd would be an understatement to seeing William in a place which reeked of yeast and barley, old wood and seasoned cast iron. No matter how lovely the outside looked with its window boxes overflowing with jolly blooms, gold lettering, and freshly repainted door, the pub was still fit to burst like all the other restaurants they passed on foot.

That had been something in itself: walking through the city with William. James liked it immensely.

He liked the way William’s eyes flitted over him as he scooted his chair underneath himself. Etiquette be damned for an evening.

“It seems fish is the menu tonight,” James observed, leaning his back to the wall so he could look upon the mounted blackboards on either side of the bar. It jutted out into the common area like a projected stage; wildflowers and herbs hung upside-down over the square bar, giving the place an undercurrent of rosemary and sweetness. “Do you like beer?”

William’s brows lifted. “In fact, I do.”

James smiled and went to collect two pints. The barman had dark hair but a vividly russet beard. He tossed something into the air while his question went unheard by James over the din, but he recognized the item, he nodded. “Yes, please!”

James carried the two pints with orange slices crammed into the glasses back to his and William’s small table. “I spoke for you when asked if we wanted oranges in the glass. I hope you don’t mind?”

“Not at all. This day is proving more and more generous.”

James lifted a brow while he sipped. “I suppose I ought not be surprised. Of course you enjoy being spoiled.”

“Most splendidly so.”

James guffawed and they soon settled over a meal of fried fish with potato wedges, tomatoes, and sauerkraut. The cabbage went well with the fish, and James gave the rest of his potatoes to William.

It was during this time, with his beloved speaking in between bites, that James’ gaze lingered on the man strumming absentmindedly on a fiddle in the corner of the pub. Brief melodies, both improvised and known, only interrupted by conversation and the tuning of a specific string…

“You’re not listening.”

By the time the accusation trickled into James’ consciousness, it was too late. He turned his head to William smirking at him. “Sorry?”

“What are you thinking about?” he replied instead, looking over to where the fiddle player drank his ale.

Still distracted, James’ eyes flicked to the barman. Conviction slid into place and he pushed himself up. “Dancing.”

He left William to ponder or puzzle at that, and set his empty glass on the bar for the man’s attention. It was easy to acquire, as the pub had become fully enraptured in conversation, dinner, and a pair of maids went about refilling glasses so as to limit foot traffic.

So the bar was clear of patrons as James heralded, “Drink master, I have a matter of some indecorous partiality of which I must inquire—”

“Everyone knows where the brothels are,” he drawled while taking his glass. “You can start in Covent Garden, but for more fancy folk, you’ll need a friend’s recommendation—”

James almost scolded himself for forgetting where he was. If Meryton even had a brothel, he surely did not know of it. Of course city folk would have…prioritized other means of entertainment. “For heaven’s sake. Not brothels. Dancing, man. I’m speaking of dancing. Do people dance in this bloody city? And where?”

The man leaned his elbow on the bar to say in confidence. “Look, lad. If you’re seeking a Molly, you ought to be more careful who you ask—”

James’ mouth flattened. Perhaps he should have asked the fiddle player instead. As it were, he growled, “Is everything a damn euphemism here? I mean literal dancing with literal music. Is this town so pious that you cancel the dance to meet in secret? It’s summer! There must always be a ball happening somewhere.”

For a moment, the barman looked young behind his long, red beard. Then his grin crinkled his eyes and revealed a missing tooth. “Not pious at all, no. I have little ones to go home to at night, so I’m no longer keen on the details, but the actors know where the fun places are. You’ll want to get a drink after nightfall, when their shows are done, in the pubs they like. I’ll write a couple down for you. They can be rather tucked away, you understand, and difficult to find.”

“Thank you very much,” he finished, all but gasping with relief.

He watched the barman take a bit of paper from a nearby drawer and scrawl with a crayon. “You need to know that, for regulars, these areas are hardly a matter to be trifled with. But actors sometimes invite…less savoury company. If you don’t carry yourself like a resident, this city grows teeth at night.”

“Thanks for the warning. I will take it to heart.” And James did. Because not only did his interactions pluck on a string connected to William, but Jane would never forgive him for showing up to her wedding with green healing bruises.

As if William knew, James returned to a stoic expression. Wary, as he watched James sit and tuck the paper into a waistcoat pocket. “What are you doing?” he murmured.

“I asked for recommendations regarding dancing venues.”

“Tonight?”

James’ eyes widened, admittedly caught. “Presumably? I think the barkeep thought so. I assume these spots are good for tonight. The plays should be finishing up soon, in fact.”

“You realize I could just go through a pile of cards and invitations, don’t you? I receive at least one per day.”

“I seem to remember only Charles truly enjoying the Meryton ball, and even he voiced his surprise at the goings-on. I appreciate it, but I don’t think the sort of company who sends out cards is the kind I want tonight—”

“Lizzy, this is dangerous.”

William’s voice was flat and low; much more like how he behaved when James first knew him. Closed off and…afraid.

James leaned forward, trying for casual but still close to him. “I’ve been reassured that these areas are not the worst spots in London.”

“Oh. Reassuring.”

That…hurt. James forgot how cold William could be.

The pub deafened around them, a cloud of activity around their silence. James slowly leaned back but his shoulders moved more so down than back. “I won’t go if you don’t wish me to.”

“Wish you to—Lizzy,” William heaved incredulously. He circled his palms over his eyes. “You mean you are ready to go alone?”

James’ brows twitched downward. “I’m under no illusion that a person of note going to a...place, would stop Lady Catherine’s heart in her chest.”

A small, ragged laugh burst from him but William shook his head. “It cannot work like this. You protecting my reputation while I worry over your physical safety.”

James knew not what to say to this. “Are you…what are you saying? That you come along? That I don’t go at all?”

It was certainly the most stressed he had ever seen William. James swallowed thickly, feeling ashamed, privileged, and inconsiderate—

“I can’t believe you really expected to do something so stupid alone.”

* * * * * * *

James sat, amazed, and not for the first time, how William could just make things happen. Charles had certainly been onto something when he first mentioned the expanse of William’s wardrobe, but James lost himself in staring at the new attire he brought out for the evening. Because it most certainly had not been new in an age.

“I never actually thought I’d wear anything of my father’s,” William had said as he looked into a full-length mirror encased in a rococo frame. The contrast between grandeur and moth-nibbled and gently frayed fabric had the man smiling at James’ stupefied reflection.

And then his personal driver tapped the barman’s handwriting while he ate his own dinner in the kitchen. “That’s the one you’ll want. Always rowdy, but with less criminal activity than you’d expect. A pick-pocket is the worst you’ll see; the area’s too integrated with more upstanding businesses for the violent types to loiter.”

William even arranged for a different carriage. However, Mr. Gardiner’s words returned to James as he grasped William’s rough sleeve made no softer with age. “My uncle said that salary drivers stand out.”

The man himself hummed for his attention while he otherwise finished his coffee. “Rest assured, Mr. Bennet. The royals are always shite at moving in secret, but not us. Let’s just say we learn from their mistakes and have tactics of our own.”

And so, with more finesse than he had ever anticipated, their dusty and cramped hansom cab rocked to a halt where a main street branched off into a myriad of side streets.

James climbed out after William, who spoke with the driver. “You remember the way?”

“I do.”

“I’ll be in the park just aloft when you’re finished. Remember to drink the beer but not the wine.”

James frowned. “Wait, why?”

“Dangerous things are easier to hide in sweet drink. Other than that, be smart and enjoy yourselves.”

James spared him and the hansom a final glance and leaned for William’s ear alone. “Where do you find these people? He’s incredible!”

He chuckled and lifted bright eyes upon the semi-crowded alley. He moved purpose and a hand on James’ back, pushing him in front and murmuring instructions as they went. James wondered if it was to keep a firm hold on his jacket, but he could not say he minded. William looked as invigorated as if he had partaken in the driver’s coffee. James liked having his height behind him, and allowed himself the hope that William may be excited in a pleasant way.