"The police are here." Whispered James urgently as Henry's deep brown eyes widened in fear; his alabaster cheeks seeming to flush even paler than physically possible. "Don't just stand there, get your coat on! We have to go!"
"Y-you go on..." Henry said softly glancing conflictedly between a confused looking Pietro and his two very frantic mates.
"For God's sake, Henry... What part of 'police' do you not bloody understand?!" Charles threw his hands up in disbelief.
"You both go on, we'll make our way out!" Assured Henry before turning back to Pietro, giving the taller man's forearms a squeeze as he cocked a perplexed brow down at the raven haired man.
"Che succede?" (What Happened?) Pietro glanced around in confusion at the ruckus around them.
"The police are here. Erm... We really out to get out of here." Henry felt his heart sink in his chest as he said that phrase out loud; through his twenty seven years of life he'd acted upon his urges that were deemed by society at the time as being 'deviant' or 'perversions'. But for the first time Henry felt something he'd never before felt in any of these underground pubs, secret corners in restaurants, nor in those stolen moments of carnal pleasure behind closed doors; Henry Aldringham felt... Fear.
"Porca miseria, (Bloody hell) I forgot it's still illegal here." Pietro cursed, running his hand anxiously over his face; homosexual activity had been legal in the Kingdom of Italy since 1890 so naturally it was odd for him to comprehend how in 1920 the British were so tragically behind. "You save yourself, I have to go get my coat."
"I-I'll wait for you..." Henry stammered, partially numb from the surreality of the situation.
"Don't be ridiculous! I have diplomatic immunity, you could go to prison for life, if that." Pietro scolded seriously, his tone entirely devoid of the prior flirtatiousness that his banter had carried. Though the 'Buggery' laws prior to the 1885 Criminal Act required attested witnesses to physical sodomy between two men in order for someone to be charged, the new 1885 Criminal Act which was in effect by 1920 meant that being caught at a gay establishment such as this would have been grounds enough for prison time, forced chemical castration, or hard labour. Though Pietro's job as a Italian Embassy attaché gave him a degree of diplomatic immunity, Henry would feel the full blow of the law coming down on his neck should he be caught; and of this Pietro was all too aware.
"Call it English hospitality, if you will. You're a guest in our country and I dare say it's my duty to ensure you're not apprehended by the police. So make haste, get your coat, and meet me behind the bar." Henry mustered a smile in hopes of hiding the fear that'd washed over his English Channel blue eyes. "Well go on, then! We haven't exactly got all night!" He teased again, as Pietro simply smiled and shook his head in amusement in his eyes before he rushed off towards the coatroom.
Henry let out a huff as time seemed to go faster than usual; the mind-numbing void left by the now silent gramophone paired with the distant shouting and instructing of the police officers in the front area of the pub whilst people towards the back were sneaking off through the secret passageways that were made known to patrons should the police come knocking on the pub's door.
It wasn't long later before Pietro returned with his overcoat, a tasteful black coat perfectly tailored with a fur lining on the collars. He slipped it on as Henry extended his hand towards the handsome man, pulling him along towards the bar and hopping over it to search for an inconspicuous loose board on the wall's wood panelling between two liquor cabinets hid a secret door from plain sight.
Henry prised the door open just enough for him and Pietro to slip through; hastily closing the door behind him as the last ray of dim light from the pub dwindled away. He let out a huff as he pulled the door shut, trapped in the bleak darkness of whatever cramped narrow passage they were stuck in.
"Where are we, exactly?" Whispered Pietro, earning him a stern shush from Henry.
"Follow me, we must make haste." Said Henry as he led Pietro down the dark uncertain path. "There are these passageways that most of the patrons are made aware of in event that the Scotland Yard come knocking..." He wasn't entirely certain where he was leading his new 'friend', it wasn't always known where these things led. Some led to the sewers, some to other parts of the basement, some were just little cellars meant for one to hide until it seemed safe to make their escape.
"Where exactly does it lead?" Asked Pietro softly; though Henry didn't know much about the man, there was something about his voice that seemed to give him some comfort. He wasn't sure if it was so much his voice, or moreso that his voice reminded him that he wasn't travelling this dark path alone.
But then again, Henry wasn't travelling this figurative dark path alone, not truly; he lived at a time when everyone like him lived on this dark path feeling alone even when they were with others like them. Where you had to be discrete about everything, reading subtle body language hits or even wearing certain colours so others of 'your kind' could tell you were one of them.
Nonetheless Henry had it considerably easier than many of his lot; he was extremely well born being the child of a Duke and cousin to the Royal Family through his maternal side, and with his father's reach and power came all the opportunities in the world. Though often times a careless flirt to men and women alike, Henry rather loved the ability to have power over someone else made him feel invincible at times. But regardless of his tendency to be devastatingly attractive and charming, he only ever allowed himself to be intimate with men of equal or higher stature to him; other nobles with titles, nobles who had as much to lose as he did. How else was he meant to ensure the utmost secrecy and discretion?
"I'm not entirely sure where it leads, if I'm being terribly honest." Henry drawled, his eyes wide as his eyes gradually acclimatised to the pitch dark surroundings he found himself in. "Some of these passages lead into other parts of the basement, some to the alleyways, some to the sewers. I'm praying for either of the former two options, me."
"As am I..." Pietro furrowed his brows with a tinge of disgust in his eyes.
"I suppose this must all be so terribly foreign to you." Whispered Henry, grimacing as he felt his foot tap on what seemed like a puddle; the lack of odious odour around him the only semblance he had that they weren't heading towards the rat infested sewers that lay beneath the city. "You must find this all awfully backwards, with it being legal over in Italy."
"You'd be surprised." Pietro let out a deep, disappointed sigh. "Laws change, but attitudes often aren't quite so quick to do so. We're still very much a deeply pious Catholic nation. It's still hard for us in for our kind back home too. I daresay it's hard for us everywhere."
"Heavens, what a ghastly prospect." Henry let out a pained chuckle, though he knew Pietro was right; there were some countries on the continent that had already legalised homosexual activity but the truth of the matter was that it didn't change much. Legally, sure, there was a slight weight relieved from their shoulders, but at the end of the day it wasn't exactly 'accepted' by society on the whole.
"It is, but we make do, don't we." Pietro said softly as he glanced up towards Henry.
"I should think our lot really haven't much of a choice in the matter." Henry admitted with a nod. "Either we make do, live life quietly as a 'confirmed bachelor' somewhere in the country, use one of those suitably vile methods of 'curing' ourselves, or marry a nice well born girl and wait patiently for death."
And though Henry put on a facade of being carefree and unbothered by the stringent norms of the English aristocracy, a part of him was terrified out her wits by the very thought of his sexuality being publicly known. Of his family only his cousin Callum knew, but besides that everyone else Henry cared about in his family was blissfully ignorant of this side of his identity; which gave him relief and an inexplicable sense of pain. And though he acted like he couldn't care less about the aristocracy and his family name, the truth of the matter was that he did care, very much. The last thing he wanted was to be the next Lord Richard Wilson.
Lord Richard Wilson was Henry's Papa's best friend as a child; he was equally as well born as he was being the eldest son of the Duke of Bedford. When he eighteen years old and home from boarding he fell in love with one of the housemaids who was his age and daughter of a farmhand from a nearby village. His parents soon caught wind of it and asked him to end it forthwith, but they were young and in love; they weren't going to give in that easy; so they eloped to Gretna Green and were never heard from since. Some say they were cast out by the Duke, others who were more keen on slandering the family spread salacious rumours that the Duke himself had them killed to maintain the family honour; others thought they were purely figures of fiction, merely urban legends meant to scare young aristocrats into never marrying outside of their socioeconomic class. Henry for one just didn't want to end up like the poor Lord Richard Wilson; steeping the family in scandal and becoming merely a cautionary tale for others.
"Which of those options best suit your fancy?" teased Pietro, though a part of him was truly curious of this pretty English boy. "Not the 'cure', surely."
"Heavens, No!" Henry shuddered at the thought. "We had a lad at school who was a few years older that me. We'd been intimate one time and it really seemed to effect him psychologically. He went for one of those 'treatments' at some sort of sham clinic somewhere in Shropshire only for him to take his own life when the next term came. Ghastly matter. And in Shropshire of all places!"
"Poverino."(Poor chap.) Pietro winced at the thought.
"Yes, it was quite tragic." Admitted Henry softly, his eyes softening as he seemed to rehash every lad whom he'd encountered whose sexual 'deviation' as it was seen at the time simply ate at them from the inside. Henry was one of the few who accepted his sexuality and acted on it sans guilt or self-hatred; for every one Henry there were dozens and dozens of broken young lads whose sexualities drove them to harm themselves in a multitude of ways. "I daresay it's one of the hazards of the lifestyle, my heart simply aches for each of the poor souls who go through the torment of it all. I've seen boys lose their minds after going to clinics like that, I've seen even more at the altar, going through the hollow motions of marrying some poor unsuspecting girl."
"I reckon you'd make a handsome groom to some pretty English girl." Pietro chuckled awkwardly to ease the tension.
"I'd make a handsome groom, but I'd be an absolutely horrid husband." Scoffed Henry with a playful eye roll. "I should think it best for me to simply fill the niche as the eccentric bachelor uncle who lives entirely alone in a terribly large country estate somewhere in the Highlands."
"Alone?" Pietro cocked a curious brow as Henry continued to guide him around yet another dark corner.
"As opposed to...?"
"You do realise all the Kings who had 'companions' and 'favourites' were more often than not, sharing a bedchamber with them." Pietro pointed out matter-of-factly. "I daresay there've been plenty of eccentric uncles who lived in terribly large country estates with their 'good friend'."
"Heavens, you're quite the radical, you are." Joked Henry as he saw a rather dim ray of light peeking through in the distance, though it was far too dark out to tell if it was an exit or merely Henry's eyes playing cruel tricks on him. "I feel as though we're nearly through to the end of the tunnel."
"That's disappointing..."
"Is it?" Henry cocked a brow curiously at the handsome Italian. "I should think it rather a relief for you to be free of boring little me..."
"Quite the contrary." Pietro said softly, taking Henry by the wrist and playfully pulling him close into his body. "I far prefer spending time with you, even if it's in this drab... whatever it is we're in..."
"Well we shan't be in here for long, I suppose..." Henry trailed off as they took the last few paces towards the old wooden door; creaking it open ever so slightly and glancing about into the bleak darkness to see that they were in the back corridor within the same building where the pub was situated. He tiptoed out, feeling relief as the soles of his leather shoes clicked against the linoleum rather than the unfinished raw flooring in the passageway.
Taking Pietro by the hand as they both rushed into the corridor, bolting as quietly and as hastily as humanly possibly; making their way down towards the back exit and safely out into the back alleyway. Henry felt an initial wash of relief come over his body, the light chill in the late-summer night air a welcome change from the stuffy and stagnant air in the underground tunnel.
Pietro and Henry exchanged glances as they heard police shouting just around the corner in front of the building, before immediately taking off in the opposite direction. They ran as fast as they could, their boots tapping against the damp pavement as they tried to get as far from the building as they could, only stopping as the fatigue began to set in and their feet began to tire. Chests heaving and breath laboured they finally stopped in a dark side alley to catch their breath.
Buckled over with his hands on his knees Henry let out an exhausted huff, his body finally catching up as the effects of the adrenaline coursing through his veins gradually dissipated. He glanced up and locked eyes with the gorgeous Roman god along side him before both men burst out into quiet laughter in wake of their narrow escape from potentially serving prison time. They were safe, or so they thought.
Henry stood up straight, the smile on his face slowly fading away as his gaze locked in on Pietro's; the look of lust and attraction evident in the gorgeous Italian's eyes. Pietro stalked up to Henry with a smirk as he cupped Henry's face fondly with his hand; only a split second of sexual tension building before they crashed their lips on one another's. Henry's hands running through Pietro's dark lustrous hair as Pietro's arms curled around Henry's slender waist.
"Come with me." Pietro said huskily he kissed down Henry's jawline and sucking on the nape of his neck.
"Sir, I do hope you're not making an indecent proposal." Henry chuckled between moans as the man's lips tickled his soft supple neck.
"Not just for tonight. Though I wouldn't complain if you wanted to." Pietro said breathily as he pulled back to look Henry in the eyes; the only light around them being the full moon in the sky and the dim residual illumination from the gas lamps lining Regent Street in the distance. "Come with me, back to Italy." Pietro thumbed Henry's cheek as the boy narrowed his gorgeous dark eyes at the handsome mediterranean God. "You can be the 'eccentric uncle' living in a terribly large villa on the Amalfi Coast. But you won't be alone. You'll be with me. We can live together, tell people we're cousins or something like that. Grow old together."
"Grow old with me?! You hardly know me." Gasped Henry, clutching his proverbial pearls.
"I know you're the most beautiful creature I've ever laid eyes on..." Said Pietro with a smile as his eyes flicked between Henry's lightly swollen lips and his widened darting blue eyes.
"Pietro, I- er... My entire life is here, in London... I can't j-" Henry stammered, an utterly flustered mess as he tried his hardest to collect his thoughts.
"OI! YOU THERE!" Henry felt his heart stop in his chest as he glance to the side to see a Metropolitan police officer charging towards them shining his torch in their direction. "Right, what's all this then?" the officer spat in pure, unadulterated disgust as he shone the torch in Pietro's face. But just as he shone the light towards Henry who's face contorted from the harsh brightness, pure horror washed over the young officer's face. "Lord Henry?!"