Chapter 4

He was instructed to use the servants’ entrance, which was to the side. An old man in an impeccable black suit with the traditional white shirt and a white bow tie greeted him.

He was most likely the manager of the Household Servants.

“Pleased to meet you, Sir. I’m Oliver Abram- Lord Tennyson’s new valet.” He outstretched his hand, but the man didn’t return the greeting.

Oliver took his hand back and the other man seized him up and down.

“You must have a very good recommendation to be hired for work in the household, especially dressed like that.”

Oliver knew that even though he was wearing his best clothes, they were of much lower quality than the ones even the cleaning staff wore.

The butler didn’t wait for Oliver’s response and said

“This way, and try not to ask too many questions. Lord Tennyson hates them and he never wants to talk to valets personally. I will assume you’re only going to get briefly acquainted with your duties. My name is Thomas and you will be reporting to me mainly.”

The man was giving his instructions as they were walking up the big stairs.

Oliver tried not to stare too much.

The walls were covered in portraits- previous lords and nobility from the family, he guessed. Crystal polileums were hanging from the high ceilings and the heavily decorated oak tables in the lounge were covered with souvenirs, golden statues, and small figures made of ebony and ivory with gold.

Oliver could sell a single piece of those and feed an entire family for a whole year.

“Do not gossip, do not touch the other maids.” Thomas was still speaking as they approached a big, heavily ornamented door.

Oliver’s feet were sinking in the soft, richly decorated carpet and he was starting to forget what he was here for.

“Don’t answer unless you’re asked, and don’t do anything inappropriate. This is probably the first and last time you’ll speak to the Lord directly, so don’t embarrass yourself. And me, respectively. As I said - I’m your direct superior. “Thomas stopped and turned abruptly towards Oliver. The younger man almost flinched.

“Are we clear, boy?”

“Yes, Sir. Clear.”

“Good.” The butler checked his silver pocket watch “10 seconds to ten. Ideal.”

The older man was clearly more controlling than Olived had first thought.

Thomas opened the door and announced

“Oliver Abram, Lord Tennyson. He’s here for the position of the new valet.”

Thomas urged him in and Oliver saw a man of the age of around fifty, staring out the big French window.

His hands were clasped behind his back and he was wearing a dark suit with a black cravat. The garments were beautifully decorated and he was wearing rich jacquard in deep red- the only bold stroke to the overall dark attire.

He was impeccable, even dressed for his home.

The man turned slowly and smiled. He was tall, but not as tall as Oliver; although not many men were as tall as he was, he remembered.

“Very well, Thomas. Thank you and close the door on your way out.” The butler looked between the two of them and only nodded.

“Yes, Sir. Please, ring the bell for me if you need anything.”

Lord Tennyson wasn’t in the habit of meeting servants, Oliver remembered.

Thomas must’ve been shocked by all that and probably thought Oliver might steal or do something inappropriate was Oliver left alone with the Lord.

Once Thomas had left the room, Lord Tennyson pulled out a cigarette from a tabaquera with the family crest made of gold on it.

Oliver had noticed the symbol on the front gate and on a few more places - red, gold, and black with the name of the family on it.

Fernsby- one of the oldest royal families connected by blood to the Queen.

“Cigarette?” The Lord’s voice travelled in the big study.

“No, thank you, Your Lordship.”

The cigarettes were most likely imported from the U.S, the kind only the rich could afford. He almost regretted not accepting one.

The Lord smiled briefly. “Sit down, young man. We both know why you are here.”

***

“Lord Charles is a very, I must assure you, a very good friend of mine, and I can honestly say this is the only reason why I agreed to have you here.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Oliver was offered to sit in the big armchair in front of the heavy mahogany desk. He refused it, besides the older Lord didn’t take a step towards his seat either.

Tennyson was walking around the room, with his air of indifference to Oliver and cigarette in his hand.

And despite that, the man was the epitome of power and influence. It was like the furniture was making space for him.

He was more than intimidating, Oliver thought, but couldn’t find a better word to describe him.

The Lord’s deep voice traveled the room.

“My dear friend vouched for you and said you’d worked for his household.”

“Indeed, Lord Tennyson.”

Thomas had said Oliver shouldn’t provide the information he wasn’t asked for, so he was trying to stick to what he was told.

“I suspect he cannot pick up his entire household when traveling to China. Although I’m a very good employer and insist on the goodwill of the people working for me, I’m about to entrust you with a task. Keep in mind it won’t be an easy one.” He paused, then added, “I presume you follow the papers?”

“I do, Sir.”

“Then you must know my political position.”

“Yes, I am well aware.”

The Fernsby’s had always been part of the Parliament.

Lord Tennyson’s party had won the elections earlier this year in July and as a minister, Tennyson was now trying to establish a more serious presence in the decision-making about trade.

The party was also supporting the old tax system.

Yet, the more money one had, the more one wanted, Oliver thought, and those changes were aiming at profits for the rich.

It meant even more power and influence, which was rapidly spreading not only on the Island but over the trade with East and the trade routes. Besides, the Crown seemed to be trying for a different establishment in the distribution of seats.