Summons

Please," said Britt, ushering him in, "sit thee down, Mister Jenks. I must say, I wasn't expecting thee so soon."

"Nor was I expecting to be here. I'd rather stand, please." Jenks tugged uncomfortably on his waistcoat. "I'm not sure why I'm here, or why you expected me."

"Pff, stop that, sir, this instant," she said, tilting her head to one side. "We're both of an age where that sort of talk is unwelcome. Thou knowest very well why th'art here. As to how I knew, the dear Senior Beloved said I had the knack, but I wasn't interested in Temple life. Speaking of the Temple--and forgive me for sitting, Mister Jenks, but I have been on my feet since before sun-up--speaking of the Temple, why hast thou not gone there fer this?"

"I have. I just--I haven't been able to go since--things have changed," he finished lamely.

"Well! Lucky fer thee I'm here, then, eh, with a strong arm and an understanding heart." She smiled warmly up at him. "Now, dear, tell me how I can help thee."

"'Help' me," he muttered. "Helping me would be removing this--this need."

Britt frowned slightly. "Thou findest no pleasure in it at all?"

"None." He shifted restlessly on his feet. "It is a release, yes, but not what you might think."

Britt leaned forward, her hands on her knees. "It is different with thee," she said slowly. "I knew it, but I wasn't sure exactly--something has happened to thee. This is not thy natural bending, thou hast been bent somehow and weighed down."

Jenks closed his eyes hard, his face contracting in on itself and his hands clenched. "In a manner of speaking," he whispered. "Please. This is very hard for me."

Britt stood up slowly and walked around him, studying him closely. He was shaking slightly. "Off with it, then," she said, and he shed his coat and folded it neatly over a chair. When she lay her hand gently on his back he flinched. She could feel the corded muscle, tense through the layers of his clothes. "Poor lad, what happened to thee?" she murmured, but he gave no answer. She set her face and with a small nod reached for a long, thin birch cane leaning against the empty hearth. "What is thy given name?"

Jenks was silent for a moment, then answered, "Standfast."

"A good and fitting name, I'm believing. Against the wall with thee, then, Standfast." He faced the wall, bent over and holding himself away from it with his hands, but before he could get himself set, the first blow fell across the tops of his thighs with a crack. She kept the cane against him, and he gasped in surprise. "Thou'lt never know just when it'll come," she said quietly. "But I'll give thee a moment now."

"I don't need a moment," he grated. "Get on with it!"

"Very well," she said, and began in earnest. It all went very quickly, but to Jenks it stretched time out to the point where he was in an endless now. Britt held the cane lightly, working methodically and smoothly, changing her position as needed to keep from injuring him permanently. The cane fell in stinging lashes, in thudding lashes, in flurries of lashes, in agonizingly separate lashes, never on bone, always on flesh.

She caned him until he finally choked out, "Enough!" and fell to his knees. Britt immediately dropped the cane and kneeled beside him, supporting him in her strong arms. "I'm fine," he breathed, eyes and nose streaming. "I'm fine."

"Th'art nothing of the sort, Standfast Jenks," Britt said gently. Once she was sure he could be left alone, she went to her wash basin and wrung out a flannel, then returned and carefully wiped his face, washing the tears and snot from his short-cropped beard and mustache.

"I can do it myself," he muttered, swiping ineffectually at her hand.

"I'm sure thou canst," she said firmly, "but thou shalt let me do this fer thee." He gave up and let her finish. "Now. Canst thou stand by thyself?"

"I have yet to take a beating I couldn't recover from enough to stand," he said harshly as he wobbled to his feet.

"Somehow I doubt thee, sir." She held onto his hands until she was sure he was steady, then stepped back, observing him. "No, this is not for thy pleasure, nor for that sort of release, is it?"

"Eventually, yes," he admitted, not looking at her. "Without this, I can't--everything builds up, and I can't--I'm sorry, I don't know you well enough to speak freely about this..." he trailed off.

"Standfast--"

"Ah, and only two people in all this world call me that, and my mam is one of them."

"Now there is a third," said Britt in a tone that brooked no contradiction. "Listen to me, Standfast. I will give thee every reason to trust me. Every reason. When th'art ready thou shalt tell me. Yes? All right? Look at me, then." She tilted his chin so that their eyes met, sharp blue and reddened brown, and she swept her thumb over the corner of his eye to catch a final teardrop before it fell. "Now, away with thee. I have his majesty's tea to attend to."

She helped him into his coat, brushed him off, and chivvied him out the door, following close behind. As she turned to head below stairs, Jenks stayed her. "Thank you," he said, and kissed the top of her head.

Britt's broad mouth curved into a smile. "Th'art welcome, and I'll take as payment a proper kiss next time," she said airily. He watched her down the hall until the spot he'd kissed disappeared below stairs, then turned and climbed the stairs to the residence floor, moving a little gingerly.

When he came to the study, Jenks found Temmin with his mouth wide open, snoring loudly on the couch. With a sigh and a flinch, he retired to the dressing room to finish his chores.

Temmin awoke with a snort and a start. It was still light out, was the first thing he noted. The second thing he noted was that he was quite hungry; it must be tea. The third thing he noted was that he was alone. "Jenks? Jenks?" he called, to no answer.

He finally gave up and pulled the bellrope, then walked into the bathroom to relieve himself. When he finished, he looked in the mirror to find himself unkempt past even his own standards. "Good gods!" he cried, "what a sight!" He quickly splashed the sleep from his eyes and ran a comb through his now-damp hair. He straightened his collar, re-tied his cravat and came out into the study to find tea waiting at the little table, and Jenks with a small pile of mail on a salver.

"Well!" said Jenks approvingly. "You've managed to freshen yourself up without me! Well done, sir, you'll be a cavalry officer yet."

"I have been known to dress myself on occasion," said Temmin in a tone that would have been sulky if it hadn't carried so much relief in it, for Jenks seemed to be much more himself than he had been in days.

"Those were occasions I must not have heard about, sir," said Jenks, pouring him a cup.

"Well, I have," he said loftily, sitting down. He rummaged through the plates. "Say, this is unusual! What's all this stuff?"

"Brinnid's cook was in charge of tea today, sir. If memory serves, this is a smoked fish salad, this is a kind of...quick bread, I think she called it?"

"It looks more like a currant biscuit. Smoked fish, huh. Seems to be a theme with them. What's in these?" He bit into a little fried dumpling. "Mm, lamb, I think, and potatoes. Good! Here, eat one."

"Oh no, sir, I'll have my own tea presently--well, all right," grinned Jenks as Temmin waved the plate at him. "Thank you, sir."

"That reminds me," said Temmin, showering his waistcoat with crumbs, "you've stopped calling me 'young sir.'"

Jenks swallowed. "Should have stopped as soon as you turned 16, sir. You're an adult now and deserve more respect than I've shown you."

Temmin blinked. "Is that what this has been about? Showing me some odd form of respect?"

"What has what been about, sir?"

"You've been in a dashed bad mood, Jenks! You've had me very worried as to what I'd done."

"What you'd done? Oh, sir." Jenks put the small stack of mail down next to the teapot and put the salver under his arm. "At the risk of being extremely rude, Prince Temmin, not every moment of my life revolves around you." He turned on his heel and walked out the door, throwing Temmin a little wink as he closed it.

"It doesn't?" said Temmin to himself. He hadn't really put too much thought into what Jenks did when not busy bullying him around. Chasing housemaids? Come to think on it, he thought as he munched meditatively on some sort of pickle, he didn't really want to know about that. What was this pickle, anyway?

He took a deep draught of tea and looked at his mail. Invitation, invitation, letter from his cousin in Whithorse, rose-colored envelope with brown ink and a mixed silver and gold wax seal--

He sat up straight and took another gulp of tea, then poured himself another cup. He slid his butter knife under the Lovers' glyph pressed into the seal and opened it.

Service? He hoped the girls would be there to tell him what to expect. In fact, he brightened, perhaps he could send for one of them. He might be hung from the rafters with weights on his balls for sending for the Obbys, but he was fairly sure Anda and Bessa would be thrilled to come to tea.

Now, where did Jenks keep all the paper?