1906
Leroy stood in the garden, twirling his father's ugly ring on his finger, watching Thomas practice his polo playing. His friend was spectacularly terrible, but Leroy couldn't help but admire his persistence. The afternoon sun glinted off the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, his blonde curls seeming to droop of exhaustion. Sarah came out from the house carrying a tray of drinks. The second Thomas spotted her he rode over, leaping off his horse to grab a drink and smile at her.
"Good afternoon, Master Thomas. Leroy," she said, blushing.
Leroy grabbed one of the drinks and held it up as a greeting to her.
"Sarah, were you able to see any of my polo practice? I am getting better."
"Oh yes. This time he managed to get near the ball," Leroy added, smiling as Thomas shot him a look.
"I'm sorry to say that I did not see any of it."
He reached out and took her hand. "Then please stay for a few more minutes and watch."
"I'm sorry but there are many things I must attend to today."
"Tell Mrs. Todd that I asked you to stay. She can't object to that."
"Believe me, she can. I am sorry, Master Thomas. Enjoy your polo."
She left with a lingering glance at Leroy.
Thomas threw himself on one of the chairs, the pain of rejection written all over his face. "I am getting nowhere with her."
"You aren't supposed to be getting anywhere with her," Leroy said, taking an uneasy seat in the chair across from him. "You're supposed to be progressing at polo."
Thomas rolled his eyes and leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. He shook his glass, swirling the liquid around. "Leroy, I cannot help it if I love her."
Leroy closed his eyes, trying to keep Thomas from seeing him wince. He should have seen the signs earlier—Thomas' moony-eyed glances at Sarah, his constant need to impress her. If he was a better friend, he would have recognized Thomas' feelings at once.
"I know that, but you must try. She is part of your household staff and far below your station. Sarah is not a suitable bride for you, even if you werein a position to marry. Which, may I remind you, you are not."
Thomas loosened his tie and leaned back. "What if she is beneath my station? Why should that matter?"
"You have always been naïve, Thomas, but do try not to be stupid."
"Must you always be so blunt? Don't you think there is even a slight of possibility of things working for us? Is there not a single romantic bone in your body?"
Leroy finished his drink and stood instead of answering. "Go back to your polo. I'll start packing for tomorrow."
"I don't want to go back to school. I am so tired of having to be swept along in my father's plans. When will I get a say if I cannot even choose my own wife?"
"Your father cares about you; he just wants your life to be the one he thinks you deserve."
Thomas still looked dejected but stood and went back to his practice. Leroy stayed a few moments longer to watch as his friend's strong muscled frame took expert control of his horse, even if he still hadn't mastered the game itself. Sweat had soaked through the white linen shirt just enough that the fabric had begun to cling to Thomas' abdominal muscles.
Leroy caught himself staring and shook off his damning thoughts with a decisive turn back to the house. He took the steps back into the house two and a time. He'd grown used to seeing the lavish interior of the manor in the last seven years so that now it no longer took his breath away. Weaving his way through the servant's passages, he reached Thomas' quarters, and pulled out the trunk from storage to start packing his friend's things.
A knock broke his focus. Leroy turned around just as Sarah pushed the door open and came in with an armful of Thomas' clean clothes. "I thought you might need these."
"I could have gotten them myself."
She came further into the room and set the laundry on the bed next to the other things Leroy was packing. "Must you go with him everywhere?"
He looked up, brows furrowed. "I would be a rather awful valet if I didn't."
Sarah leaned against one of the posts of Thomas' bed. "Leroy, you're only seventeen. That's far too young to start following someone around the rest of your life—even if you're treated better than a usual valet."
He raised an eyebrow at her, a smile tugging up the corner of his mouth. It made her blush and look away. "I started this when I was ten. That did not seem too young to you, but seventeen is now?"
"You had nothing else back then. Now you're older...you should be living."
"I'm satisfied with my life, Sarah. This newfound concern wouldn't be your way of saying you'll miss me, would it?"
Sarah sighed and looked away, blushing again.
"We will be back at Christmas," he added, giving her a smile that he hoped was comforting enough to suffice.
"With you gone, I will have no one to talk to."
"Mrs. Todd isn't a fitting companion for you?" he teased. The idea of the stone-faced woman being anything other than terrifying amused him. Sarah, though, let out a sob. "Oh, Sarah. I'll write to you, I promise. It will be as if I am still here."
"Every day," she said, stepping forward as she wrapped her arms around his middle and buried her face in his chest. "You must write every day."
"I'll try," he lied, hoping it was smooth enough for her to believe it.
She nodded, releasing him and wiping away her tears. "I love you, Leroy."
He stiffened. "So you've said."
She kissed his cheek and hurried from the room to get back to what she'd been doing. He finished packing, leaving out what Thomas would need before they departed at the foot of the bed.
Just as he turned to leave, Thomas came into the room, his cheeks rosy from the exercise, his blonde hair tousled. He changed into proper clothes for dinner with his father. Leroy straightened his tie and brushed creases from his tuxedo. "I know what you are going to say, but just listen for a moment. I want to make a romantic gesture for Sarah before we leave. I want her to know that I love her before I am out of her mind until Christmas."
Leroy gulped. "I think not. Unless you are willing to drop everything—your fortune, your comfort—to go run away with her, all it will do is upset your father and make things awkward." When Thomas said nothing, looking down at his hands, Leroy added, "Well, Thomas, are you willing to start your life over as a poor man?"
Thomas sighed. "No, you're right, Leroy. As always."
"Good. Don't be late for dinner."
He started out of the room but turned back, stopping to lean on the door frame, his brown eyes full of gratitude. "Thank you for getting everything ready for tomorrow. You can take the rest of the night for yourself."
"Thank you." Thomas slipped away, and Leroy set out Thomas' sleepwear on the bed before he went down to the kitchen for dinner. He grabbed some extras from the Clarkes' first course sitting out on the counter.
Mrs. Todd barged in and Leroy jumped a little. "What are you doing in here, boy? Those aren't for the servants!"
She scoffed and shooed him from the kitchen. He went upstairs to the servant's quarters in the attic and took a cold, quick bath before slipping into his robe to hurry back to his room. He changed into his button-up pajamas and shimmied under the covers with a large book. After a few hours of captivating reading, he heard his door open and close. With a sigh, he looked up, half expecting Thomas to have come along looking for him when he needed something.
Instead, Sarah stood there in her nightgown, without a robe, her hair loose around her shoulders. "You should not be here," he whispered, worried as always about Mrs. Todd's ever-lingering presence.
She crossed the room and sat on the end of his bed. "I had to see you again before you leave."
"You shouldn't be in here," he said again.
"You didn't mind so much when I was in here last night," she said, leaning forward and setting a hand on his knee.
The color drained out of his face as he grimaced. The previous night, Leroy had come into his room after a long day to find, to his surprise, Sarah naked in his bed. He didn't have the self-control to turn her down.
He sighed, "I shouldn't have done that. You caught me off guard and I didn't stop to think about it."
"Then don't think about it now either," she said, crawling closer to him on the bed.
"Thomas is infatuated with you. If I wasn't so stupid, I'd have known it earlier and last night would never have happened. And it can never happen again. I don't want to hurt him. I'm sorry."
"There is no reason that Thomas has to find out."
"Sarah, I'm sorry. But I can't do this to him. I feel terrible enough that it already happened once."
She leaned back, disappointed and stood up to leave. She stopped as she reached for the doorknob. "After last night, I thought... I thought that after all this time, you'd started to love me."
***
1912
In the year since Thomas had graduated Oxford, he had successfully put off going home in favor of visiting friends in London. His father had finally had enough and commanded his son to come home. Thomas had grudgingly returned less than a month before. It was not going well. In all his time calling on other people of status, Thomas had still not managed to find a suitable woman to court, much to his father's chagrin.
"I am not suggesting that you have to marry at once," Mr. Clarke told his son while Leroy hovered in the back of the room. "But you need to know that my health is not in peak condition and I want to see you make a suitable choice before I pass."
Thomas rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. "I should be able to marry whomever I want. I don't need to marry for status."
"That does not excuse a marriage beneath you."
"Marrying Sarah is not beneath me—I love her."
The elder Clarke looked at Leroy for support. "Leroy, you understand the situation better than my son. Will you explain it to him?"
"That I could, my lord. I have tried many times." Though Thomas did not know it, Leroy was even pickier than his father on the subject of Thomas' bridal options. He took Thomas' happiness as his own personal mission. Only over his dead body would his friend marry someone unworthy of his loyalty and unwavering optimism.
"All I want before I die is to see you on the right path—married to a suitable woman. Do you remember Miss Kent, the marquis' youngest daughter? She would be just perfect for you Thomas. I want you to meet with her. Leroy, make the arrangements, and make them soon." With that, he stood and left, not waiting for his son's response.
"Yes, my lord," Leroy said, closing the door behind him.
"Could that man be any more condescending?" Thomas said, standing and running his hands through his blonde curls.
"He only wants what is best for you."
"He is living in a world of antiquated rules. My feelings don't matter at all to him."
"Of course, they do. He just wants to ensure that your feelings are for the right woman."
"Must you always take his side?"
"Your father is a good man. He rescued me from a hungry life stealing in the streets. Without him I'd be in jail or dead."
"He did that for no other reason than because I asked him."
With a sigh, Leroy sat cautiously at the other end of the small couch. Looking into Thomas' big brown eyes made his stomach twist up and his pulse race. He tried to stifle the blush he felt surfacing on his cheeks. "I know that, Thomas. And I cannot begin to tell you how grateful I am for everything you've done for me. I know you don't see it this way, but I want the best for you, just like your father. A mismatched marriage will not be a happy one."
Thomas sank back into the lounge. "How can you believe that? You're an American for God's sake! You shouldn't be caught up in these stupid class distinctions."
"Americans are wrapped up in class distinctions like everyone else. They just like to pretend they don't exist. Take it from someone who'd never have been able to crawl out of the gutter without outside help—don't do anything to jeopardize your high status."
"Do you realize how lucky you are? You have no responsibilities—nothing tying you down. You could walk out of here and never have to come back. You're free to do anything."
Leroy's gaze lingered a little too long on Thomas' sinewy forearms and he wished that were the case—that he was just a servant and didn't feel tied to Thomas. It'd make his life a hell of a lot simpler.
"Freedom only exists when you have money to fall back on—the rest of us are bound by the ever-present threat of poverty. Get rid of this romantic notion that being poor would make your life better. I would not trade the security of my life the way it is now for anything."
Thomas squeezed Leroy's shoulder with his hand and went over to the desk in the corner of the large parlor. His skin felt hot where Thomas had touched him even through the thick fabric of his shirt. "I got you something—something that will hopefully remind you to let loose a little. You're too uptight for someone so young."
Leroy looked at the small wrapped parcel Thomas handed him, his pulse quickening. His brow furrowed as he pulled off the string and unwrapped the paper to find a shiny new flask with a leather grip. It was heavy, so he uncapped it. The strong scent of Scotch wafted up to his nose. He hesitated, "Thank you, Thomas. It's very nice...but I don't drink."
"I know that," Thomas laughed. "This is my way of telling you that you ought to start, friend."
***
Within a week, Thomas was meeting with Miss Mary Kent. Leroy waited in the hall outside the parlor, twirling his ring around his middle finger. He needed this to go well. Every time he saw Thomas mooning over Sarah it made him feel something between frustrated and guilty. Though he hadn't so much as looked at Sarah in anything other than a professional manner since that first night, she'd made it no secret that she still harbored deep feelings for him. He refused to let his friend marry someone only too willing to cuckold him. Not when he was so kind and thoughtful and deserved to be with someone who cherished those traits.
Thomas flew out of the parlor without a word, the thick wooden doors slamming behind him and marched off in the direction of his father's study. It didn't take a genius to figure out this wasn't a good sign. Leroy went into the parlor. "Lady Mary, would you like me to send for your car?"
She blushed, "Yes that will be fine."
Once he had seen Miss Kent off, he went to deal with Thomas. His friend was sitting on a bench in the gardens, sulking. Upon seeing Leroy, he said, "He persists in trying to pair me with all these boring women while my heart is already set on the perfect one."
"Perfect?" Leroy knew Sarah to be far from perfect. "Why do you say that?"
Thomas looked up at him, starry-eyed. "She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
Pretty as Sarah was, Mary Kent was at least as beautiful, if not more so. Leroy pointed this out.
"But Sarah is the most kind, selfless woman I know."
This too, Leroy knew to be a lie. Sarah could be selfish and jealous, as his entire relationship with her proved. She was territorial when it came to him and got upset when another woman so much as smiled at him—and they were not even together.
"And to top it all off, she's so demure and well-mannered. She's a real lady."
It was all Leroy could do not to snort at that. Sarah was a good friend to him, and he did care for her despite her faults, but a lady she was not. Behind closed doors, he suspected she might be the most ill-behaved and uncontrollable woman in England. No matter how many times he'd told her nothing more could happen between them, she'd persisted in trying to seduce him—each unsuccessful attempt more desperate than the last.
"Thomas, you are a love-struck fool. The Sarah you see is fictitious. She is your servant—you see the most poised version of her. You've never seen how she acts when she is not doing her job—and I can guarantee you she is none of the things you just described."
"We are closer than that. She doesn't have to pretend with me—she knows that. You are technically my servant too, but you don't change yourself around me. We are more friends than an employer and employee."
Leroy swallowed hard, heat rushing to his face. It seemed he was always pretending around Thomas these days, but not the same way Sarah did. Every time he saw the walls come down in his friend's eyes, every time he begged for Leroy's trusted opinion, it took everything in him not to risk his job with the truth he'd been trying to deny for too long.
He hesitated, but finally forced himself to reply, "Yes, Thomas, you aremy friend but there will always be a line between us because I work for you. That is just the way it is, and the same is true for Sarah."
He shook his head, stubborn as ever. "It does not matter what you think, or what my father thinks, for that matter. The man is not well; he won't last a year. I just have to wait."
Leroy left the room without responding, frustrated that he couldn't get through to Thomas. He went into the laundry room to get things ready for Thomas' polo match after lunch. Sarah came in without knocking, as usual.
"I hope he did not leave things with Miss Kent irreparable."
"I fear he did."
She wrung her hands. "I have told him already that I will not marry him, but he seems to think I am doing it to please his father, not because that is how I feel."
"He's too stubborn to see reason."
"I don't want to be the center of these problems. I won't marry him, but I fear Master Clarke won't see that. I do not want to lose my job over this."
"Well, Sarah, I don't know that there is anything you can do to put his mind at ease until Thomas is married."
When she fell silent, a rare occurrence with her, Leroy turned to look at her face. He read the look in her eyes and shook his head. "No."
"Marry me, Leroy."
"No. He would hate me until the day he died. I couldn't bear that."
"You are overreacting. Thomas is not thinking clearly. If we marry, he will come to his senses and choose someone else."
Leroy shook his head. "That will not be his reaction."
"Then marry me anyway. It will put Master Clarke's mind at ease and I'm sure he will help us arrange jobs in another household."
"I can't do that. I don't feel that way about you, Sarah. It would not be fair for either of us."
"I know you don't, Leroy, but people have had lasting marriages on less. You cannot be with who you want anyway. Why not be with me?"
Leroy shook his head and left the room, pretending he didn't know what she meant, wondering if he was the only one left in this house with any sense.
***
A few days later he was summoned to Lord Dabney's study. When he knocked, he was told to enter and shut the door behind him. "You called for me?"
"Leroy, I've appreciated your help and loyalty to my son all these years. In a lot of ways, you have learned the lessons meant for him better than he has. I don't have much time left on this earth, and I need your help getting this last thing through to him."
"I assure you, my lord, I am doing everything I can to convince him..."
Mr. Clarke held up a hand. "I don't know whether that is strictly true, Leroy."
"My lord?"
"There is, I think, something more that you could do. Sarah seems to think that if I could secure you both employment elsewhere, you would be willing to marry her. That would solve the problem."
"No, sir, I cannot do that."
He held up his hand to stop Leroy again, "Well I cannot leave it to chance that he will marry the girl once I'm dead. He either needs to marry—or she does."
"She promised me that she would not marry him."
"That is not what she implied to me. If you won't marry her, I believe she could be made to accept Thomas' offer."
"She...she said that to you?"
Clarke nodded. "I do not know whether this is a scheme the two of you have come up with, but let's cut to the chase, shall we? If you marry the girl for my peace of mind, Leroy, then I will secure you employment in a good household back in New York. I will even give you a rather large sum of money so that you will always have a comfortable life."
"This is no scheme on my part. I would not do that to you or to your son. I don't know what Sarah said to you, but—"
"Before you decline my offer, I suggest you take a moment to consider what you would be doing. If you choose not to help me with this, then I will be forced to terminate your employment, and I will make sure you won't be able to find a job in any household in Europe. Furthermore, I might be morally obligated to turn you over to the authorities."
"I don't know what you're—"
"Do you think I'm blind, boy? I see the way you ogle at my son. The girl all but confirmed it."
"But she's lying. I—I haven't done anything. I'm not—"
"Will anyone believe you? You, the morally bankrupt son of a prostitute? Choose carefully, boy, before I'm forced to send you to a life of starving in a cell."
Leroy hesitated, squeezing his eyes shut to collect himself—unable to bear the thought of this man seeing the tears in his eyes. Fiddling with his father's ring, he thought of his friend who he'd spent all these years serving—the friend that had always been loyal and never done him harm. The boy who begged his father to take him in off the streets. The man he couldn't help falling in love with.
But he could never forget what it was like to work all day and still go to bed hungry and cold.
"I'll do it," he whispered, his voice cracking.
"Good. Leave tonight. Take the motorcar into the city. I've booked you passage on a ship to America for when you return. The money I promised will be waiting when you come back to break the news to Thomas."
"Don't make me be the one to tell him. Please."
"He will need to hear from you to believe it."
Leroy flew from the study back to his room, guilt and shame rising in the pit of his stomach. He opened the door of to see Sarah sitting on his bed, all of their things packed and assembled around her. "You knew I would take his deal?"
"I suspected you would."
"Did you ask him for the money?" he asked, his tone imbued with mortification.
"No, but I thought he might offer it if I threatened to marry his son."
"I cannot believe you stooped to this."
She stood and walked over to him, wrapping her arms around him. "You're mine now, though, aren't you?" She kissed him, though it was more like mashing her lips against his as he just stared off at the wall, resigning himself to his fate.
They left all their bags, minus one small one, in his room. Leroy followed her out to the motorcar, dazed. The prospect that he would profit off his friend's misery still caused a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach. He tried to console himself that he'd been left with no other option—he had no intention of ever going to bed hungry again.
They drove for most of the night to get to city, Leroy watched the future he'd imagined evaporate more and more with each mile that passed. They got a room at a small hotel in the poorer side of town. The next day they got married. Sarah was ecstatic when they were pronounced man and wife—throwing her arms around him and kissing him with years of pent up passion, not seeming to care that he wished with everything he had that he was dead.
***
As soon as the car pulled up to Ravenswood, Thomas came rushing down the front steps of the manor toward them. The sight of him caused an involuntary fluttering in Leroy's chest even as his stomach twisted up with remorse. "I am so glad to see you both. Father said he sent you to take care of an unexpected errand. Where were you?"
Leroy looked at his face and he lost any courage he'd managed to muster up on the drive back. Sarah nudged him, and he took a deep breath. "We need to discuss that."
Thomas tensed up, alarmed by this response. "What did he send you to do?"
Leroy cleared his throat. After a long pause, he forced himself to say, "Sarah and I eloped."
At first, he did not react, like he hadn't heard it or was incapable of processing the information. "My father sent you do this?"
Leroy nodded.
"Then just have the marriage annulled."
"We can't do that, Thomas."
"Why not?" he yelled, his fists balling up.
"It has already been consummated," Sarah said, wrapping her arm through Leroy's, pressing closer to him. A tear fell down his cheek at the look of pain on Thomas' face.
A flash of anger flew across Thomas' face and he lunged at Leroy, Sarah stumbling out of the way and up into the house. He knocked Leroy to the ground and punched him in the face. Blood spurted from Leroy's nose and from his mouth as Thomas hit him again.
"How could you do this to me?" he shouted, hitting Leroy again. "You're my best friend—I trusted you."
Leroy sputtered, trying to answer, but couldn't get the words out before Thomas punched him again. Leroy spat blood, refusing to fight back.
"All I needed was to wait until my father's passing. I could have married her. You've been planning this all along—you've been trying to convince me not to marry her, so you could have her for yourself."
"No, Thomas. That's not true. I did not plan this. Your father ordered me to do this and I...I had no option but to accept. One day, maybe, you'll see it was the right thing for you."
Thomas let out a frustrated scream and wrapped his hands around Leroy's throat. "Do you even love her?"
Leroy choked out, "No, I—"
Thomas tightened his grip even more, and Leroy's vision began to blacken at the edges. With the very last bit of air he had in his lungs, he croaked, "I'm so sorry, Thomas."
Leroy's vision cleared as he gasped and coughed as the fresh air filled his lungs. The first thing he saw was a sword from the decorative armor in the hall protruding out of Thomas' chest. He fell off Leroy with a kick from Sarah. She knelt down in front of her husband, stroking his dark hair. "Are you alright?"
He was shaking all over, unable to look away from Thomas' glassy eyes. He wished the last thing his friend had seen hadn't been Sarah's small act of affection for her new husband.
"Wh-what have you done?" he asked, his voice raspy.
"He would have killed you. What was I supposed to do?"
"You should have let him." Still shaking, he got up and moved over to Thomas and closed his glassy brown eyes. Then he lifted him up to pull the sword from his torso. Dark blood fell from the wound once it was exposed to the air. Tears fell down from his eyes as he pulled Thomas' body up close to his chest in a tight hug. "I never wanted this," he murmured into Thomas' blonde curls. "I loved you," he whispered, knowing the admission changed nothing.
"We should leave," Sarah said, putting a hand on Leroy's shoulder.
"Go get help. We owe him that much."
After a moment's hesitation, Sarah moved toward the house. She was gone for some time and came back struggling to carry all their bags. She threw them into the car and dragged Leroy away from Thomas before helping him into his coat. "We need to hurry."
"I asked you to get him help, not to grab our things!" he protested, hot tears still pouring down his face. She dragged him to the car, forcing him up into the passenger seat.
"We have to go. Someone will find him."
He saw the tickets sticking up out of her pocket. "We can't just leave him!" he screamed at her, tears still streaming down his face.
"There is nothing we can do now. The best thing we can do for ourselves is to get out of here."
She started the car and drove them to the port of Southampton to board the ship that would take them to New York.
***
On the fourth night of the journey, their ship hit an iceberg in the middle of the Atlantic.
By the time the third-class gates were opened and Sarah pulled Leroy to the deck, the lifeboats were all deployed. Leroy knew in his heart it was the retribution for what he'd done. His betrayal was so horrible that he deserved every bad thing he had coming to him. He sat down on the deck, watching people bustle around him, some screaming, some crying, some eerily calm in the crisis. He couldn't hear any of it over the high-pitched ringing in his ears, his mind cloudy and far off as it had been since Thomas' death. He pulled out the flask of Scotch Thomas had given him and looked down at it. The ship lurched. Sarah grabbed his face in her hands and forced him to look up at her, his eyes unable to focus. He could tell she was saying something, but he didn't hear it.
Instead he uncapped the flask and chugged all of it, the warmth flooding through his body as he tucked the empty flask back into his jacket pocket.
He swayed a little back and forth as he shrugged off the life vest and threw it over the side of the ship. Sarah cried and slapped his face to get a response from him. The lights on the deck swam in front of his eyes making it hard to focus as he forced himself to look at her. The concern in her eyes, more for him than for herself, would have moved him a week earlier. With a sigh, he murmured, unsure if she could even hear him over her own shouting, "Go. Leave me."
"Don't be daft. I'm not leaving you here to die."
The boat could no longer struggle to stay at the surface as water flooded all of its compartments, dragging it with one last gurgle into the ocean. It wasn't until the freezing water ripped through him like thousands of tiny knives that he came out of his semi-catatonic state. His lungs ached as the cold water rushed into his body. He watched the last bubbles of air escape, rushing toward the surface of the water. The edges of his vision started to go black as he struggled to drag himself to the surface despite the crushing weight of the water pushing him further down into the ocean. The last thing he saw was a hazy hallucination of Thomas reaching out for Sarah nearby, an unnatural crimson glow lighting his face under the water.