“Oh, my dear lady! Those pies smell frightfully good.” He stepped forward and took Mrs. Twigg’s pudgy wrinkled hand,
“Madame, are you the talented artiste who created such delightful confections?” He asked, and then he kissed the back of Flora’s hand. I saw her blush and appear bashful. It was quite a rare occasion for my housekeeper to be speechless!
“Foxford Robins,” Cavell announced. “But my friend’s call me Birdie—I do tend to twitter on you see—and, you may have heard me singing in the bath!” He added with a wry grin.
“I did wonder….” Mrs. Twigg admitted with a girlish smile.
“Well, as you make such delicious sweetmeats, you may call me Birdie, my lovely”, Cavell charmed.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, sir…Birdie. I’m Flora Twigg.” Flora said her eyes darting to look at me as if seeking permission. I smiled and nodded in response and so she continued.
“Sorry to hear you slipped on the path outside the house. I’ll get Wilkins to spread some grit so it doesn’t happen again.” The housekeeper suggested.
Cavell sent a querulous glance to me and I winced. I’d thought it was a good enough story to cover his unexpected appearance and the fact he was wearing my garments! To my amazement, Cavell took up the threads of the story and embroidered.
“Yes, it was a frightful surprise. I went arse-over-tit in front of the Duke of Fotheringham, no less. I do hope he didn’t recognize me!”
The Duke of Fotheringham kept a townhouse four doors down from my home. Cavell must have been doing his research! Maud, who was a shy fourteen-year-old, returned with the extra crockery as Mr. Foxford Robins explained his predicament. She burst out laughing at hearing the explanation and hurriedly put the cup, saucer, and side plate on the table. It appeared that Sebastian was in his element entertaining my servants and enjoying his new persona. I was sure that, if permitted, he would give a full performance, so I stepped in.
“That will do, thank you ladies,” I said sternly, breaking the spell Cavell had cast all-too-easily for comfort. The servants curtsied and then left the room. When the door clicked shut and I could hear the tip-tap of footfalls in the hallway I turned to Cavell.
“Birdie, ay!” I smiled widely, immediately betraying my determination that I would remain stone-faced and detached when dealing with this man. Lust never usually affected my thinking or led me from my righteous path. Looking at attractive men passing in the street, or at my club, I acknowledged my desire only to myself and never acted upon it. But Sebastian Cavell could charm the birds from the trees.
“I keep a few names up my sleeve in case I’m required to think on the hoof,” Cavell explained. He sauntered to the table where the tea and sweet pies were laid out. Without even asking for permission, he picked up a mince pie and took a bite. His eyes widened in pleasure. When he’d swallowed the mouthful he exclaimed,
“Heavens! If she worked for me I’m sure I’d be the size of a barrel!” The warm tart was gone in three bites.
“Indeed,” I agreed, patting my stomach, for even though I took regular exercise I was not the wiry, flat-bellied man I had once been!
“I rescued her from the kitchens at Hadleigh House, you know?”
“Rescued?”
“They were throwing far too many parties and the poor woman was run off her feet. Flora is more suited to cater to smaller groups and a more homely palate.” I explained casually, “Come let’s take tea”.
I gestured for Sebastian to take a seat at the mahogany occasional table. I eyed him, taking his measure as he sat across from me. This was rather… intimate. I poured the tea and passed a teacup across the table to Sebastian where he added milk and sugar to suit his taste. I offered my guest another mince pie. Neither of us spoke, and so the ticking of my mantle clock and the crackling of the fire seemed amplified to my ears. There was a frisson of electricity in the air as we partook of our refreshment. I could not prevent my gaze flitting up to covertly watch Sebastian’s near-feminine shaped mouth as he chewed. His full lips were sprinkled with buttery pastry crumbs that my wicked inner voice willed me to lick away. I noticed too how he watched me, his eyes assessing every move I made.
I had tried for so many years to rid myself of lustful thoughts of men, going so far as to remain celibate and deny all feelings. And yet, Sebastian Cavell’s attentions in Glasgow washed away those years of loneliness in one-fell-swoop and so again, my mind was free for a time. My thoughts trawled through what we did and given the chance, what else I would permit Cavell to do to me. But that wishful time did not last long. My inner thoughts warred; my lust fighting with the echoes of church sermon’s from my youth preaching hellfire for sins of the flesh. I knew I needed to put a halt on this lustful train of thought for it could only lead to further blemishes on my immortal soul. I told myself that what Cavell and I had done was nothing more than a slip-up. And so I determined that after I confessed my sins to my priest, and took my penance it would be proper for me to begin again, vow to fight the devil’s temptation, and resume my reverent life of celibacy and contemplation.
I was deep in thought about the righteous and virtuous path I would choose when Cavell spoke up, shattering the silence.
“Have you been well, Benedict?” The precise way he pronounced my name sent a shiver through me.
“Quite well”, I replied formally, “And you, I trust
