Mini Warning; A lot of chaos and povs will be happening in this chapter lol. If you do not remember some characters, please go to previous chapters to brush up on them. Also, sorry for the long chapter!.
❝But with sad eyes as one uncomforted,
And wearied with man's never-ceasing moan.❞
• Oscar Wilde.
Do not let my broken spirit down, treat it diligently, it has gone through enough...
Opium Den ꨄ︎.
"Julius! Julius!" The ringing in his ears made everything he heard muffled and distant.
He was somehow aware of what was happening around him, yet struggled to open his eyes or move his body like he'd wish to. Coldwater splashed on him, and though he shivered, it didn't quite make him jolt out of his daze but was enough to make his eyes slowly flutter open. It was as if the den was spinning.
His vision eventually came back to focus, revealing Betty, who stood above him, with Ferguson crouched beside him.
"At long last." The woman he had rejected earlier rasped.
"Where am I?" Julius shuddered, wet vest clinging to his skin.
"We are still at the den you halfwit," Ferguson grumbled, helping Julius sit up. "If those two lads hadn't known me personally, then you would have been groped or worse!" he added in exasperation.
"Ow," Julius muttered at the pain he felt above his brow. He touched it, only to wince when three fingers pressed into a thin cut.
"Where is the man, what happened to him?" Everything came flooding back. The assaulted man, the beating he had received, and everything in between. However, he cared more about the man's welfare than of his own pain.
His eyes darted around. Ferguson had likely pulled or carried him back to where they were seated before he had approached the men.
"He went with them."
"Why? Ow!" he touched his head again, feeling a swell, "Why did you not stop them?"
"Shut up, Julius!" Ferguson spat. "Here is no playground, he is a rent boy who belongs to them, end of story."
Julius wanted to further protest, but the throbbing in his head was agonizing. Ferguson helped him stand, but he tumbled; still light-headed and nauseous. Ferguson ended up assisting the man who was precariously clinging to him.
"Thank you, Betty," Ferguson muttered.
"My pleasure, I believe you know just how to repay me," she shrugged, smirking.
"Of course," Ferguson forced a smile.
They left the den with their heads down, murmurs following as they passed. Ferguson regretted ever bringing Julius along, he ruined his jollity.
Julius had his teeth between his bottom lip, he could not stop thinking about the man and of his regret for how he had spoken to Reuben earlier. The whole of today had been catastrophic.
Also, the rather short distance back seemed to take an eternity, especially when Julius's dizziness as well as Ferguson's continued cursing, seemingly prolonged their journey.
"We mustn't use the front entrance, we have to go in through the scullery," Ferguson instructed in a whisper, as they approached the quarter.
"Stay here," he added. Julius nodded, leaning against the wall.
He waited outside for Ferguson to have a look. Fortunately, the only one present was the tender-hearted scullery maid.
"Psst, Eliza" Ferguson called out to the woman busily arranging cutleries in the pantry, her work was almost done for the day.
"Oh my!" she shrieked, jumping up in fright.
"Sssh.." Ferguson pleaded in a whisper.
"My goodness, you frightened me," Eliza told, hand over her heaving chest.
"Where is Rebekah?"
"She is preparing for slumber."
"Lower your voice please, Eliza."
"She is preparing for slumber," she repeated in a whisper, eyes wide and innocent.
"Tell her to come to the scullery, and make sure no one else knows of it."
♛
"Why on earth did you escort Ferguson to an opium den, I thought we agreed that he is a moron," Rebekah reprimanded with a sigh.
Ferguson rolled his eyes, anything but amused.
They were the only ones awake in the quarter, their voices hushed as Rebekah tended to Julius in the scullery.
"I was feeling depressed," Julius hissed as she pressed a wet cloth to his brow, ceasing the slight oozing of blood.
"Feeling depressed, so you thought getting a proper beating would solve it," she giggled despite herself.
"Stop teasing me, please," he petulantly whined, as she helped him out of his wet vest.
"Look, Julius, if ever you feel dreary, you can come look for me and I promise I will cheer you up, it surely wouldn't involve you getting pummelled." She handed him a cup of water.
"If only he hadn't interrupted with the matters of sodomites, none of this would have happened," Ferguson scoffed, rubbing at his eyes in exhaustion.
"Shut up you foozler, I told you never to take him to your amoral places, he is a cultured young man, he isn't like you."
Julius highly disagreed with the description of him being cultured.
"Rest and do not move your head about," she instructed. "Marian used to tell me that whenever I injured my head as a little girl."
"Thank you."
♞
Lord Alfred is a man who adores the theatre and fine music, but like every man, he loved sports: "Horse Racing" was one of his favourites. Be it; flat racing, jump racing or the French newly introduced cart racing. He loved it all. Today was an informal match between Wellington and Bedford. Duke Alfred and the Earl of Bedford had a friendly argument in Nuremberg about whose men were better riders and of whose horses were best fit for racing, so today was the day they decided to find out. Since the Wellington Estate did not possess a race track, the men to race were on an improvised track, with white chalks marking the vicinity the race was to take place. The Duke, Duchess and Earl were seated on French imported armchairs in an appropriate distance, for a better field of vision.
The Gentries of Bedford in attendance were snobby, pompous and as bold as brass, their heads held high with beards and moustaches immaculately trimmed. The Earl's four sons weren't an exception, they were just like their father, hubristic but with reason. The lads of Wellington were also not lacking in skill by any means, but they carried their capabilities with grace.
Picnic blankets were sprawled about on the
flourishing verdant lawn. A clique of Gentries and Nobilities from both Wellington and Bedford had taken their seats on them, with footmen and maids covertly roaming about as to have a look at the march as well; some were seated on logs whiles others stood behind trees, the wiser served as an excuse.
The early summer weather was excellent for such an occasion—sunny and warm, but not overly so, as birds chirped melodiously—The weather wasn't the only thing to bless the day. A long table with all kinds of lavish delicacies displayed on it, as well as the merry laughter of young children chasing around butterflies, greatly partook.
The Griffith children were seated on different picnic blankets, far from each other, with no care of what the other sibling was up to.
Adelaide was seated beside two of her lady friends. They were in outstanding summer frocks, with their hair perfectly set, fans in hand, and cherry lips ready to criticize each passing person.
Elizabeth was in the company of her field spaniel and three other ladies from Bedford. The ladies beside her had cowered to one corner, terrified of her
furry dog whose tongue hanged from the side of its mouth in excitement.
"Please send that ravening beast away!" one had said, but Elizabeth paid her no heed.
Alice, on the other hand, had set her blanket on a small grassy heap away from the others, but not to the point where she couldn't see the march happening down the slope. Reuben was seated beside her since in such scenarios he would have either been in his bedchamber or would have been seated beside Obadiah. But since Obadiah was partaking in the race for team Wellington, he knew his talkative sister would be the best to tell him each and everything happening that his sight wouldn't quite make out. He would tolerate her foibles.
Reuben was already bored out of his mind, yet this was still better than being in his bedchamber in distress over the thought of an unpredictable man named Julius.
❦︎
Julius, Ferguson, and Rebekah stood beside a stack of hay. They were the closest to the track and had the best view. Julius admired horse racing and though above his brow still minuscule throbbed, he was doing much better today. What affected him had more to do with the vagaries of the past few days than that of an injury.
Ten men were on the field preparing for the race; a team of five from Wellington and a team of five from Bedford. The Earl's four sons made up four out of five for team Bedford, with the odd one left being the son of the viscount of Bedford. With Wellington, middle-class men as well as Gentries made the team. Handlers and farriers were attending to hooves and saddles, also making sure all the horses were properly primped.
No one specifically cared who was announced winner, all that was important was for the man to belong to their county.
"May the best man win," Duke Alfred smugly said to Lord Charles, tapping his cigar on the ashtray beside him.
"Indeed, Your Lordship," Lord Charles was just as smug.
"It is a shame your wife could not attend," Lady Augusta told.
"She would have loved to have participated, but the poor woman had fallen ill."
"God bless her soul," The Duchess touched her heart.
—
Obadiah's black thoroughbred with white markings named Domino trotted in front of Elizabeth and the other ladies with her. He had seen her in the crowd, and her beauty as well as his infatuation with her bewitched him into the risky deal of approaching her in public.
"Good Afternoon, m'ladies," he greeted with a charming smile.
"Good day to you too, kind Sir!" the ladies said in unison, with the exception of Elizabeth.
"Obadiah, is it?" Elizabeth fought back a smile as she pretended not to remember the name of her secret lover.
"Yes, yes it is," he played along, smiling radiantly. "I thought I'd greet you, fine ladies, before I am on my way."
"That is all so very wonderful of you," one lady with golden tresses interrupted, blushing.
"Why thank you," he told the lady. "Well I must be going, I am a part of the race after all and it will be commencing soon."
Such a cheeky man! Thought Elizabeth.
"Of course, best of luck," Elizabeth shrugged, struggling with the fact that she could not take his hand and kiss it.
And with that, Obadiah trotted away, a cloud of dust accompanying him.
"He is so charming, too bad he is only a common lecturer," one brunette woman sighed and the blonde pouted in disappointment.
"That is such a shame!"
Elizabeth wanted to roll her eyes at their rant.
The race was finally about to start, horses and riders were in their positions. But before the starter could fire his pistol, one of the horses went absolutely hysterical. No one knew if the rider had provoked it. The horse was agitated, tossing his head and flickering its tail aggressively.
He threw the man off his back.
Everyone either gasped or screamed. The horse had gone mad!
"What happened?" Reuben asked in frantic curiosity when he heard the chaotic screaming.
"A horse threw a man off its back!" Alice exclaimed in both fright and amusement.
"What?!"
❥︎
"Calm down, calm down," The horsekeeper tried to coax the haughty creature, but the stallion was proving stubborn.
"Why on earth is the horse going out of control," Lord Alfred rubbed at his temples in frustration.
"It seems to me that one of your men is already down," Lord Charles smiled into his glass of mulled wine.
Three men came to drag the stallion away by the rein, as a nurse attended to the injured man.
"This is why I loathe horses, savage beasts are what they are," Ferguson grimaced, leaning further against the hay.
Julius disagreed with that statement, horses were lovely creatures. This was simply an ill-tempered horse and did not stand in for every other horse.
"Of course you hate horses, you are Ferguson after all," Rebekah chaffed.
"One man down!" The umpire declared. "There is a need for replacement in team Wellington."
All the other male gentries in attendance looked anything but fit for racing, maybe a commoner would have to take the place.
In the chaos of it all, Adelaide had other things on her mind, the flock of pheasant birds around where she sat being it.
"You there," Adelaide beckoned Julius over.
"Me?"
"Yes you, come shoo the birds away, they are adding to my stress!"
"Sorry m'lady but I am not a bird boy, I am a valet," he did not intend for it to sound as caustic as it did, but it had to be said.
"Oh, I never!" Adelaide was scandalized by his response. The girl beside her snickered.
—
"Mister, do you reside in Wellington or are you from Bedford?" The umpire approached Ferguson first because he was closest to the track.
"From Wellington, Sir."
"Do you by any chance know how to ride a horse?"
The landed Gentries murmured in disgust at the fact that a footman was being considered by the umpire to partake in the race.
"No Sir, I couldn't ride a horse even if my life depended upon it," Ferguson cringed.
He was born and raised in Wellington, so he never really found a reason to travel anywhere that couldn't be travelled by foot.
"Is that so..."
"Yes, however, the young lad over there is quite proficient in such activities," Ferguson pointed to Julius, who was still indulging in his banter with lady Adelaide.
"You are whatever I say you are," Adelaide quipped.
"With all due respect, I do not quite—
"Young fella," the umpire had interrupted Julius "Your friend told me you are a skilled rider," he tilted his head towards Ferguson.
Though that was partly true, Julius still wanted to smack Ferguson behind the head for recommending him to the man.
"Who are you to interrupt my conversation with the pauper," Adelaide retorted.
"It will only take a minute, m'lady," the umpire assured with a quick bow of his head. "So do you or do you not know how to race?" his attention back to Julius.
"I have ridden horses before, but I wouldn't call myself an equestrian. You see, I haven't even horse raced before."
Julius knew how to do almost everything. With where he came from and the great poverty he grew up in, he worked multiple jobs in order to put food on the table.
"We are just in need of someone who can manage, we have replaced the stallion with a sweet-tempered thoroughbred, there is nothing to fear."
Julius was reluctant to agree but agreed anyway. It wasn't as if anyone was expecting him to win, in fact, he knew that was bogus, he was just joining to add to the numbers.
"Come back and shoo the birds away!"
❥︎
Julius walked to the chestnut horse, now donned in a riding attire. Breeches tightly hugged his well built thighs.
"Easy girl," he coaxed, touching her muzzle. He wanted to befriend the horse before he mounted it.
The horse buried her muzzle further into his palm, and Julius's face broke into a smile. He got his foot in the stirrup, pushing himself up and unto the saddle.
He felt overwhelmed by the audience watching the race. Glancing sideways, he gulped when his eyes met with that of the Duke's menacing ones. He quickly averted his gaze, eyes then finding Reuben, who was seated beside his sister, the two isolated from the others.
His heart performed a giddy flip. At this rate, he would develop arrhythmia before sunset.
"Who is that young man? I now often see him in the manor and yet I have no knowledge of him," the Duke asked his wife.
"He is a replacement for Oliver."
"What happened to Oliver?"
"He left for a while to Bucklebury to visit his family. The young lad is only temporary."
"I see..." Lord Alfred muttered, scrutinizing the young man.
"Oh my, the dreamy footman is the replacement!" Alice exclaimed, her heart soaring with fondness.
"Who is he?" Reuben had known there was a replacement taking place, but from this distance, he couldn't make out who.
"Your temporary valet!"
Reuben's brow quirked up in shock, heart skipping a beat. He anxiously toyed with the silver horse tipped cane lying across his crisscrossed legs.
Alice would have loved to join the race, but being a lady, that was impossible. She was allowed to have a horse and occasionally ride it, but she would never be allowed to participate in a sport.
The starter fired his pistol. They were off.
Julius tightly held onto the reins on his horse, as he slightly rose up and down the saddle. Hoofs pounded on grass, with the wind mussing up his hair.
The audience rose to their feet in loud jaunty cheers, the ladies waved their handkerchiefs and the men ardently shouted the names of those they wanted to win.
Lord Alfred had his hand steepled underneath his chin as he tapped his foot in anticipation.
"Tell me everything that is happening," Reuben told Alice. He was nervous for Julius, not wanting him to end up like the injured man had.
Julius wasn't in last place but also wasn't among the leading five. He could just try to maintain his position, in fact, he should, but Julius was competitive. Before he knew it, he was flexing his thighs in finesse, increasing his speed.
"Yes!" Alice fervently drummed her thighs, as Julius inched forward and was now in fourth place.
"What is Julius doing now?" Reuben asked, clutching his breeches in anxiety.
"You are aware that your valet isn't the only one partaking in the race, right?" Alice teased.
"Of course," he flushed, "I just want to know if he is making a fool out of himself or not."
Julius's thoroughbred was beside the Earl's second born's stallion. The man clenched his jaw and sent Julius a glare.
Julius fought the intimidation coiling in his stomach and concentrated on the march.
He outstripped the man's stallion!
He was now in third place. Julius was exhausted and his hair was dewy with sweat, yet he remained determined.
"I cannot believe my eyes, your valet is in third position as we speak!" Alice rose from her seat, enthusiastically waving her handkerchief.
Reuben's heart swelled, he was glad Julius wasn't embarrassing himself in front of those pompous fools. "Attaboy," he mumbled underneath his breath, smiling.
He knew he shouldn't care, should be infuriated with Julius, but someway somehow, Julius had disarmed him.
"This is simply marvellous," Duchess Augusta beamed, applauding.
Lord Alfred kept his composure, but could not quite stop his growing smile.
Lord Charles was fuming.
Julius was now side by side with Obadiah, both inching towards the finish line. Obadiah looked pleasantly surprised at the sight of Julius, they smiled at each other.
Obadiah won and Julius was in second place!
The residents of Wellington went into a frenzy. Men hugged each other in sheer joy at the fact that both the winner and 1st runner up were from Wellington.
The guests from Bedford were aggrieved and humiliated.
"Julius won second place!" Alice exclaimed, kneeling to engulf Reuben in a tight hug, which had him stumbling back a bit.
Reuben could not believe what he heard, he had never felt this proud.
Lord Charles got off his chair, face twisted in a scowl. "Good game," he grumbled.
"Good game indeed," Lord Alfred agreed with a half-smile.
Obadiah and Julius did a victory lap, both men laughing in euphoria.
However, Julius's smile disappeared when his eyes travelled back to where Reuben was seated.
Reuben had left.
☘︎☘︎☘︎
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