Debt of Dishonour Book II: A Gothic Palace

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Part V
 

"Lady Nelson seems most fond of Sir William, does she not?" Commodore Sir Edward Pellew remarked to his host as they stood just outside the entrance of the western hall of Brookhill Abbey, the carriage carrying Sir William and Lady Hamilton as well as Lady Nelson now grown small with distance.

"Huh! Poor Uncle! Emma wore him out years ago. I think it fell off," Stansford commented sadly.

Edward shook his head and smiled at his host's way with words. "So you think there will be no comfort for the lady there?"

"Well certainly no 'occupying'."

As his companion chuckled softly William Stansford giggled like a small boy.

"Of course there is Emma," he mused after a moment, his expression thoughtful.

Edward shook his head. "I... don't understand, sir. Lady Hamilton?"

"You mean to say you have not heard of Emma and the queen?"

Edward merely looked blank. "What does her ladyship have to do with Her Majesty?"

"Not our queen. Perish the thought! I refer to Her Sicilian Majesty, Queen Maria Carolina, known to be more masculine than most men."

"Uh, I see. And you think Lady Hamilton and Lady Nelson...?"

Stansford shrugged. "With women who can tell!"

Edward decided that, after the events of the previous evening, nothing would surprise him about women any more.

However, at that moment a cold gust of wind buffeted the two men. Glancing at the sky, they realised that the sun had already disappeared behind leaden grey clouds now building up to the north-west. The trees of the surrounding forest were swaying in the wind and no guests were to be seen anywhere.

As they entered the giant portal Edward turned to observe the dwarf, Pierrot, close the enormous doors soundlessly behind them. The two men were enveloped in absolute silence.

To Edward Pellew, it was suddenly as though the rest of the world did not exist; not the war, not his ship, not even the rest of the country. He glanced toward the octagon but could see no one there either.

"Come with me, Sir Edward, and you shall see a part of the Abbey that none of the other guests have seen," Stansford announced, his soft voice echoing gently in the cavernous space above them.

Not knowing the current whereabouts of his officers, though apparently at least one of them had been gambling, Edward followed his host, curious as to where they might be headed and eager to explore more of this extraordinary building of which he had grown most fond.

As they entered the octagon, Stansford turned left and they traversed the long King Edward gallery, this time passing through the vaulted corridor at its end. Stansford threw open a set of doors - normally kept open, he explained - to reveal the sanctuary and the oratory beyond. In the gathering gloom Edward could see little but as Stansford one by one lit all the candles himself - a ritual he performed every evening, he explained - the place began to glow brightly to reveal, of all things, an altar.

As Edward gazed about him, he realised that the vast structure of the Abbey and all its sumptuous trappings did not reveal the real William Stansford. This small private oratory with its attractive statue of St Anthony bearing the Christ child in his arms, where Stansford could worship alone and in peace, was more revealing than anything else of the complex character of its owner. The octagon with its soaring arches and even the central tower itself were not the heart of the Abbey; the altar was.

After lighting all the candles on the altar, Stansford lowered a large brass lamp which hung from a hook in the vaulted ceiling, and lit it as well. The place glowed even more brightly, the exquisite statue gazing benignly down at them from its place in the centre of the altar.

"With the doors open at night you can see the altar from the far end of St Michael's gallery," he explained. "The glow from the oratory lights up the forest outside. When people driving along the county road see this glowing light they know they are passing by Brookhill Abbey, the home of Stansford the infidel. I hear that some of the fools even cross themselves believing me to be some sort of demon. I may have some knowledge of the black arts, for I have studied many religions and rituals, but this is the only one I practise. Well this and sex," he added with a sly grin. "And I'm as harmless as a lamb."

Stansford's large eyes gazed intently into those of his companion somehow managing to convey an expression of complete guilelessness.

"My dear sir, you equate sexual indulgence with religious ritual?"

"You find that extraordinary? I suppose most people would," he mused thoughtfully. "Yet I, on the other hand, consider the ritual of physical worship to be the most glorious religious act that man may indulge in. No doubt you find my words sacrilegious."

Edward shook his head. "No doubt I would have in years past, but now?" he mused. "Now, I find myself unsure of many things." He took a deep breath before continuing.

"Sir, I... will freely admit to not looking forward to coming here to Brookhill. However, since coming here, you have shown myself and my officers only the greatest kindness and hospitality. With your help a most weighty burden has been lifted from our shoulders. Your home is a monument to exquisite taste and, although you are most flamboyant and your ways are far different from my own, they are not those of deceit and trickery. Indeed I now know you to be a man possessed of both kindness and honour."

As Stansford's large and incredibly expressive eyes gazed deeply into Edward's, he had the odd feeling that the man could read the secrets of his soul.

"You do me a great honour, sir," Stansford murmured. "There are many who would not."

"I judge a man by his actions, sir, not by what others tell me he has done. And I have no doubt that your accusers do not truly know you else they would beg your patronage," Edward stated with quiet conviction.

"I fear that that day may never come to pass, sir," Stansford murmured.

"I am not of royal blood, sir, yet I would venture to say that that day is here and now. The guests who have come to marvel at your magnificent abbey, they know you are no monster - as do I," he added quietly.

Humbled by Edward's sincere statement of faith, Stansford murmured, "Again you honour me, sir."

Edward turned to gaze at the statue once more. "In this holy place I speak only the truth."

Stansford gave him an appraising glance. "And yet there are questions in your mind."

Taken aback, Edward chuckled. "Are you then a mind reader, sir?"

"Sometimes." Edward smiled and shook his head. "That does not frighten you?"

"My dear sir, it might if I for one moment believed it."

"Go ahead. Ask your questions."

"Very well. May I ask, sir, what happened to the young Courtenay?"

"Like myself, he, too, was eventually forced to flee to the Continent for fear of arrest. He will not return to England, and I can not blame him."

"Then, he, too, prefers the company of young men?"

"Indeed yes. He has not taken a wife these many years."

Edward shook his head. "You, sir, are no violator; of that I am convinced."

Stansford clasped his hands together hard. "No, sir, I am not, but I never thought to hear that from a man of whom I have barely scraped acquaintance. Very few people, even family, believe in me. I always have the feeling that in the backs of their minds some nagging doubt lingers like an unsightly canker. I see it in their eyes; I feel it in their hearts."

"I have none, sir," Edward stated with quiet conviction.

Stansford closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them once more they were unusually bright.

"My dear Sir Edward, please forgive my blindness. I... thank you for your honesty, and your great kindness."

Edward, deeply moved by his host's fervent response to a simple act of respect, was momentarily lost for words. Nodding, he cleared his throat.

"It is *you*, Mr Stansford, who have honoured myself and my officers with your trust and support in our hour of need. In return, I know that I speak for all of us when I say that I would deem it an honour, sir, to call you friend."

"And I you, Sir Edward."

Stansford stepped closer to Edward, smiling at him. "May I say, sir, that you are privileged indeed to have two such exceeding beautiful lovers. Indeed I have never known a man as fortunate as yourself."

The words were not spoken with any kind of jealousy or envy, but rather as a simple compliment, and Edward responded in kind.

"I am aware of my good fortune, sir, and I give thanks every day that they are with me."

"But?" Edward shook his head. "You are concerned for them," Stansford murmured after a pause.

Edward nodded, gazing at Stansford a little uncertainly.

"I..." He shook his head. "I have never spoken of it."

"Let alone to someone with a reputation as notorious as mine," Stansford concluded for him. "My dearest Sir Edward, here in the presence of the saint, I swear that I shall betray your secrets to no man, or woman, living."

Edward could not help but smile. "And the dead?"

Stansford realised that Edward was mocking him a little. "The dead know all. I cannot vouch for them."

"You speak of the dead, sir, as though they were in the here and now."

"They are," Stansford insisted. "I can assure you of that, sir, to a moral certainty, however, I do not think you believe me. No matter. People think I am mad anyway; it is one more item to add to the list of 'crimes' they hold against me."

"Then I gather, sir, that you have never seen yourself as immoral?" Edward queried.

For a moment Stansford thought that Edward was accusing him of being immoral, before realising that the man was simply requesting information.

"No, sir, I do not. Why should I! As God is my witness, I have never forced my will on another living being. Huh! My servants, insipid lot that they are, will testify to that. What I regard as immoral are the self-righteous hypocrites who preach God with one hand and hang innocent men with the other; men who have done no more than I have - indeed probably a good deal less - but were unfortunate enough to get themselves arrested for a modicum of illicit pleasure. Men such as 2nd Earl of Castlehaven."

"Ah, yes, I have heard tell of his trial."

"Did you know that his mansion was near here? Indeed it was on this very estate. I am proud to say that I am related to him."

"I dare say that many men would not boast of such a lineage."

"I do, and I damn his peers for finding him guilty, and the king for the hardness of his heart toward one who had done him no wrong. I pray that all men charged with sodomy escape with their lives to the Continent and their oppressors rot in hell."

"Quite so," Edward concurred. "And do they perhaps come to Brookhill for shelter?"

Stansford sighed. "One does what one can. However, I don't suppose you have that problem, Sir Edward."

"If you mean getting arrested, I pray not."

"I meant unwillingness on the part of your lovers."

Edward appeared thoughtful. "Can't say that I do," he murmured, a distinct twinkle in his dark eyes.

Stansford chuckled in delight. "You lucky stiff! Well don't expect me to feel sorry for you! Such lovely lads!"

"I know, and..." His voice trailed off and he closed his eyes.

Stansford observed him in sudden understanding. "My dearest Commodore, tell me of your grief."

Edward's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Grief, sir?" he queried. "Grief is a private sorrow."

"And yet yours is very recent. With you here, so close to me," he closed his eyes for a moment, "I cannot help but feel the pain of sudden loss. It cuts deep inside you." He took Edward's hand and held it in his own warm ones.

"How can you possibly know that, sir? We only met for the first time a few days ago; how can you know?" Edward repeated.

Stansford shook his head. "How can one explain the impossible!" he muttered. "I only know what I feel when I'm near you. Tell me. It was because of your two dear officers, was it not?" he inquired gently.

Edward closed his eyes and nodded silently. When he spoke his voice was a rough whisper. "Were it not for you, they would be half way to the West Indies by now."

"And I am grateful for my unwitting interference in their transfer!" Stansford remarked with a sardonic chuckle.

"Indeed, sir. Indeed," Edward acknowledged. However, he did not sound happy.

"But surely, Sir Edward, we have resolved the whole affair with much success. My funds will hopefully be recovered and there is no danger of your officers being transferred from your ship in the near future."

"But there is, sir. There is." As Stansford gazed into his eyes demanding that the older man make him understand, he added, "Promotion, sir, as I have lately discovered, is a bitter pill. Mr Hornblower will shortly gain his own command and Mr Kennedy will go with him. I have always known that the day would come - and come it will. So one might say that the events of last week were an unexpected foretaste of the near future."

"I see."

"Oh, it will not be the same next time. Since my own promotion I shall be aware of their destinations and no doubt shall see them from time to time, but..."

"But it will hardly be the same as seeing them and working with them every day, will it?" Stansford murmured sympathetically.

Edward's expression was determined. "I can live with it."

Stansford watched him keenly. "But your heart will be with your officers, wherever they are, wherever they go."

Again Edward nodded. "Wherever they are indeed."

"It will be all right, Sir Edward. I know it will."

"You sound like my Irish housekeeper who seems to know everything before I do!" Edward muttered.

Stansford chuckled.

"My dear sir, will you allow me to express my gratitude to you for your most timely assistance in returning my officers to my ship, and to me personally?"

Stansford smiled. "To your dear arms."

Edward nodded. "Yes," he admitted without shame. "To my arms."

"And you to theirs."

Edward gave a somewhat uncertain smile, as though unwilling to admit more and knowing that his companion demanded it.

"And I to theirs." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"You must never be ashamed to admit to loving, my dear Sir Edward. It is the cornerstone of existence. To be able to share love in all its varied shades and meanings, and especially to fuck joyfully together, is surely the height of all delight and the meaning of the expression 'heaven on earth'."

Edward still appeared somewhat awkward with the conversation.

"Perhaps," he admitted somewhat reluctantly, hoping that Stansford would drop the subject.

"'Perhaps'?" Stansford appeared incredulous. "No 'perhaps' about it, dear sir! When are you ever happier than in their arms?"

Against his will, Edward remembered the black grief he had experienced only last week - how long ago that seemed now! he marvelled - at the sudden loss of his two dear officers when they were transferred without either warning or consultation to 'Renown'; remembered the shock of seeing their faces as he had awakened after earlier watching 'Renown's' departure; remembered how, on hearing of how they had accomplished this miracle, his concern for their honour and future careers had at first overridden his joy at their unexpected return - that is, until he had given in and allowed their embrace; remembered how he had stood there hugging them both shamelessly, his eyes wet with tears while they had pressed kisses to his face and squeezed the life out of him; remembered afterwards in his room when his two beautiful officers had undressed and loved him in most vigorous fashion, and he had never felt more rapturous, or more blessed. In all their youth, masculine strength and beauty, they had brought such happiness to his life as he had never thought to know.

He cleared his throat. "You are correct, of course. I... It... It is difficult for me to admit to the forbidden for fear of scandal, and I would not have their careers ruined on my account. You understand?"

Stansford gave a rueful smile. "Indeed I do, my dearest Commodore. I understand only too well, and I pray that the barbed tongues of evil gossip will never touch any of you. I shall ask St Anthony's protection for all of you. Of course it goes without saying that whilst under my roof you are under my own personal protection."

Edward smiled, a little overwhelmed by his host's generosity. "I thank you, sir, and may I say that I have never known a more kind or gracious host."

Stansford reached up to touch Edward's shining, dark hair, stroking it gently.

"My dearest Commodore, I can see why those two beautiful boys have fallen in love with you for I find myself in imminent danger of the same condition. I dare say you have had many lovers."

"Other than my late wife, none."

"That, my dear sir, is an abomination," Stansford remarked with more than a touch of irony. "To deprive others of your remarkable self is a wicked sin!"

Edward chuckled softly. "I can assure you, gentle sir, that I was relatively inexperienced until these two came along and I somewhat reluctantly allowed myself to be seduced by my heart's longings."

Stansford smiled in wonder. "A poet even!"

Edward smiled. "Hardly, my good sir. Hardly, though I admit to enjoying it."

"Ah, yes," Stansford sighed. "To reach that lofty summit, that peak of lustrous ecstasy, that moment of blissful exaltation where one loses all sense of time and is briefly at one with God, twice or even three times in an evening with a sweet lover is an experience I shall always crave - and you will too!" he added with a smile. "And you have *two* incredibly beautiful lovers to satisfy."

"I do my best, time and the constraints of serving on a crowded ship in time of war not withstanding."

"Ah, yes. 'Indefatigable'. Tell me, does her commander live up to her name?"

Edward could not help but smile. "I try, sir. I try."

"Stolen kisses? Stolen embraces?"

"When we can. Sometimes more."

"And so when you are on leave..."

"We are inclined to over-indulge, especially my young officers who can never seem to get enough, no matter that I make them study hard."

"Hard? My dearest Commodore, the word 'hard' has entirely different connotations for one such as I, I can assure you, though I confess to also spending much time in study and contemplation."

Edward chuckled. "You, my dear Stansford, are a man entirely devoted to pleasure of the senses," he accused.

"But of course, my good sir! Utterly, completely devoted, and not ashamed of it. I have a passion for collecting."

"And you would 'collect' my officers, if you could," Edward accused lightly.

"In the twinkle of an eye, my dear sir!" Stansford admitted. "If I thought I had half a chance of stealing them away from you, I would attempt it, and in quite brazen manner I assure you. I do not do anything by halves." he added. "Ah, but to steal them from you would be a wicked sin. I ask only to see them now and again that I might indulge my passion for hedonism with their delicious selves."

Edward chuckled helplessly. "My God, sir, but you are impertinent!"

"Better to be impertinent than to feel shame for one's desires. After all, what is the point of shame? Shame and modesty are inventions of the devil himself. Once in your mind they will eat at your soul leaving nothing but poisonous guilt in their wake. Once upon a time I heeded them; now I have no time for them."

Edward was quiet. Finally, after long moments he murmured, "I have often wished to be... without guilt."

"But, my dearest Commodore, why on earth should you feel guilt? Surely it is not for loving your dear young officers?" Edward looked away. "I see that it is."

Stansford paced to the altar, his gaze wandering to the tall candles and the statue at their centre before turning to stand once more before his companion.

"You, sir, are a good man. A brave and honourable man; why should you be ashamed to love? Are your officers then ashamed to love you?"

"I... believe not."

"Do you feel shame when you kiss them?" Edward shook his head. "Do you feel shame when you share sweet lust and give them your heart, knowing that you own theirs?"

"I should," Edward murmured unhappily.

"No, sir, you should not! Never, ever be ashamed to love!"

Wonderingly, Edward beheld his host, now transformed into a tiger, his large, grey eyes blazing in the reflected glow from the altar.

"You can say that, sir, after scandal ruined your own career?"

"More than ever!" Stansford retorted. "Yes, my career was left in tatters, as were my chances for a peerage, but I am not ashamed to admit that I loved my Lord Courtenay. He was kind and gentle and I would have done anything for him. Anything!" he repeated fiercely. "I shall forever despise the loathsome gossip-mongers who drove us apart. The kind of hypocrites that would stab a man in the back and be damned to the consequences when they themselves indulge in all manner of adultery and vulgarity. 'Tis loathsome and I'll have none of it, and if they deny me a peerage for that, then so be it! So be it," he added more quietly.

"Forgive me, sir," Edward murmured contritely. "I did not mean to..."

"Rake over old coals?" Stansford shook his head before reaching out a single delicate finger to stroke Edward's cheek. "There is nothing to forgive, my gentle sir." He smiled. "Nothing at all."

Edward returned the smile and nodded.

The candlelight reflected gold in the soft auburn waves of Stansford's hair as he drifted closer, his eyes gazing intently into those of the older man, a soft smile turning up the corners of full pink lips. Edward enfolded the slender man in his arms, reflecting on how much this man had come to mean to him, and his lovers, in such a short space of time.

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