(m/m) Perfection CH 2

The room which had been allocated for Nathaniel was small but more than adequate and rather smartly decorated. Evelyn had directed him to it following their intimate and awkward introduction. Nathaniel had been given the impression that he wished to be alone for a little while by the way he had brushed his hair nervously away from his face and tilted his head forward, away from Nathaniel's. It seemed only natural, given the intense and uncomfortable things Evelyn had discussed with him.

"The layout of this house is a little unconventional," he explained as he gestured across the wide hallway and swung the wheels upon his chair, "usually the servants quarters would be downstairs and the living area upstairs but since stairs are difficult for me the downstairs functions almost entirely as my apartment while the upstairs has become the servant's quarters. I had the house remodeled quite extensively when my mother died."

Nathaniel kept one hand upon the smooth wooden back of Evelyn's chair but was no longer pushing his master forward but following his lead, his fingers holding on only lightly as he was guided about the corner of the hall.

"Before your mother… passed away…did you have a room on the first floor?"

"No," Evelyn answered, a low note to his voice, "no, there was a nursery upstairs which served as my room for most of my life…" His eyes trailed the length of the long staircase that occupied the far end of the great entrance hall. Then he tilted his head back, moving his face away from the smooth polished steps and the sounds of movement upstairs.

"I wanted you to have a room on this floor though," he told Nathaniel, "because you will be waiting on me in the evenings and I think it would be better if you were close."

Evelyn had two private rooms upon the first floor; his master bedroom and the luxurious study. These were connected by a door between them and the study was the only room accessible from the hallway.

Evelyn had indicated a door to the right of the study, through which Nathaniel would find his own room. There were no locks on any of the doors.

"I detest the feeling of restriction," Evelyn explained, seeing the uncertain expression upon Nathaniel's face. "All my staff knows to knock and wait for permission to enter, you may do the same."

Nathaniel still felt uncomfortable with the notion of having cross through Evelyn's study to enter and leave his own room. The arrangement was unnatural but, then again, it was to be expected given the strange layout of the house.

His boxes and cases had already been placed there, carefully piled up beside the bed and upon the low writing desk. The furnishings were all a dark, polished wood and seemed well-kept, if not as ornate as the rest of the house's décor. It was far more than he had expected, Nathaniel considered, as he opened up the double doors of the wardrobe and started to put away his meagre collection of clothes. He hated the look of the dull, overwashed linen hanging against the polished wood.

He had been given a surprise though, amongst his luggage, one which made his heart flutter. A pristine box from an outfitters, new and tied with ribbon; a clean and attractively cut shirt and trousers. He lifted out the white cotton and run his fingers over it lovingly. There was a set of cufflinks too, mother of pearl, they slotted into the sleeves easily. Nathaniel admired himself in the long mirror on the wall, fixing the buttons carefully. The shirt was not a perfect fit, clearly his size had been estimated and this was a standard cut, but it was still the most well-made and beautiful thing Nathaniel had ever worn. A white necktie was wrapping in tissue paper, it had a silver pin to fasten it in place and gave the fashionable shirt a very complete, formal air.

He left the slim black waistcoat until last, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in the shirt and trousers and taking time to brush out his dark hair across his brow. He felt as though he could spend hours dressing and trying to perfect his looks; the queer mixture of vanity and dissatisfaction keeping his dark eyes fixed upon the looking glass. He felt a sensation of delight, pleasure, with his looks but also, with every changing tide of emotion, uncertainty and discomfort. He wasn't sure if he looked clean and handsome enough, whether his skin tone was too uneven against the pure white of the shirt collar, whether his hair hung too heavily and thickly. He would have liked to have washed every inch of himself and carefully brushed out his hair, stroke by stroke, until it fell with a precise nature suited to his costume but he was awoken from his reverie by the sound of a bell chiming through the house.

He jerked his head at the wall, trying to work out the source of the sound. The kitchens were behind him and it seemed as though the bell was being rung from there. He was certain that it must be the bell signifying dinner, Evelyn had mentioned it to him; the household, for the most part, ran to a strict schedule. He hastily pulled on his new shoes, black and shining, and pushed the door through the study. He realized as he did so that he had neglected to knock, as Evelyn had told him that he must, and felt his face flush with humiliation. Fortunately though the room was perfectly empty, the low sun visible through the thin cream blinds illuminating the patterns of dust in the air. Nathaniel pushed his shoulder hard against the door, quickly, resolving to take care to always knock in future and never allow himself to break the house rules.

He hurried to the small door behind the majestic stairs, pushing through to find a host of activity in a large, hot kitchen area. Nathaniel felt intimidated by the efficiency of the staff around him, none of whom he had been introduced to yet, and hung back against the wall uncertainly, like a child. A footman walked passed him, barely passing him a glance, as he moved through the door, carrying a dish. The cook who was wiping her hands on a thick white cloth was the first to address him, her beady eyes fixing upon him attentively.

"Are you the new man?" she asked, her voice had a comfortable, capable lull, "the master's attendant?"

"Yes," Nathaniel replied, stuttering a little awkwardly.

"Well you shouldn't be here," he said promptly, "you're to eat with the master, didn't you know?"

"Oh," Nathaniel murmured, feeling uncomfortable and noticing the lines that had been drawn between him and the other servants. He stared carefully for a moment at the cook's uniform. It was beautiful and well-made too, there was no doubt, but it was rather plain in design, just as any cook's uniform should be. He supposed that was natural though, as she would spend most of her time in the kitchen and Evelyn would rarely require her presence. The cook did not notice him staring, she had directed her attention to a young maid who was sat at the long wooden table, carefully gathering together some plates.

"Helen, weren't you supposed to see him about the routine?" She asked. Helen's face flushed a glorious red, right across her childishly, plump cheeks. She was clearly genuinely upset but giggled in a nervous fashion that was sometimes exhibited by uncertain people.

"I think so, maybe," she blustered, a soft tremulous tone to her irish lilt, "I'm sorry, I was caught up with the silverware…"

"Wretched girl," the cook exclaimed, "I don't know why the master doesn't get rid of you if we're going to be gaining new staff and moving people around." Helen went, if possible, even redder, her cheeks shining with shame.

"Go get Anna," the cook told her firmly, with the bustling authority of a high servant in their own domain, "she should be helping out down here now, cleaning up. If she's not going to be attending to the master anymore then she needs to be mucking out with the rest of us. I expect she thinks she'll be getting this time off to herself now."

Helen jumped up, hastily and made her way to the door. She kept her head down shyly as she passed by Nathaniel and gave a slight curtsy as she moved. This increased Nathaniel's discomfort somewhat, wondering at what status his position was intended to hold. He noticed that the maid's dress was identical to Anna's but at close quarters he was that they were indeed finely-made and their buttons were all shining silver. Helen's hair was a soft chestnut and she wore pins to keep it in place, no cap. Nathaniel threw his head back to watch her walk across the hallway and noted the free and childish way she guided her tiny feet; like a dancer.

"wretched girl," The cook repeated again, her own plump face wearing the satisfied look of one heavily indulged if not quite so pretty and youthful. "I wouldn't stay standing there long though, sir," she told him, a smile on her lips suddenly and an eyebrow cocked, "you'll be wanted in the dining room and the master won't like to be kept waiting."

Nathaniel nodded, with a sudden jerk, and hastily turned to make his way back out into the hallway. He dithered for a moment outside the doors, trying to recall which one lead to the small parlour and which to the large but the reappearance of the footman confirmed his suspicions. The young man smiled at him this time, in a friendly way. Nathaniel felt conspicuous in his new clothes although he wasn't sure whether it was because he thought he looked good in them or not. He could only just bear to smile back and it was only a moment before the young man was gone. Nathaniel took a breath and then, carefully, pushed the door open.

The room was not as large as he expected, not so much bigger than the smaller parlour. The largest portion of it was taken up a long table at the end of which Evelyn sat comfortably, in the master's place. His head was raised up in Nathaniel's direction, his good eye fixed upon in him in a way that told Nathaniel he had since been watching the door for his arrival.

"You're late," Evelyn told him in a solemn voice. Nathaniel's eyes flickered to the seat to the left of Evelyn, Edward bear was sat there with his stern expression stitched into his face. Nathaniel's mouth twitched.

"I'm sorry," he said, courteously. Evelyn's expression did not soften however, he merely raised his eyebrows imperiously. Naturally Edward's expression did not alter either.

"You've changed," Evelyn commented, "come down here." He raised his arm to gesture as he spoke, as if drawing Nathaniel towards him on invisible threads. Nathaniel walked down to the end of the table, brushing the sides of his shirt anxiously, ensuring the smooth cotton was lying as flat against his skin as possible.

Evelyn ran his eyes over him thoughtfully, even reaching out to adjust the waistcoat delicately once Nathaniel was close enough. Nathaniel felt hot at his attention, wanting to shift awkwardly but instead making himself stand perfectly still. He wasn't sure if the flush would show upon his cheeks, his mind turned to Helen's scarlet tones and he wondered if he could colour so ridiculously. He doubted it, he had always been able to maintain a reasonable amount of composure in the past. He fluttered his thick eyelashes while he looked down and kept his lips firm and tight.

"It shall have to do for now," Evelyn commented, withdrawing his hand with a prompt politeness. His tone was dispassionate but tilting his head he smiled reassuringly at his new employee.

"It suits you to be well dressed," he told him. Nathaniel nodded curtly.

"Are you pleased?" Evelyn prompted, "I know that it doesn't fit perfectly but that will be taken care of."

"Of course," Nathaniel replied, he allowed himself to smile his gratitude, Evelyn looked delighted with his expression. He smiled back contentedly and then gestured to the empty chair the other side of him.

"Take a seat." There was already a white dish set out in front of the chair, a smooth low sheen of soup filling the thin saucer. Evelyn had an identical dish of soup in front of him while Edward had his own dish; empty.

"It's chestnut soup," Evelyn told him, smiling. He lifted a silver spoon with the creamy soup to his lips and drank pleasantly. He swallowed and then added, "soup is easy to manage with one arm. I almost always have it as the first course. He put the spoon down and reached to a small bowl to the right of the dish of soup. Small chunks of bread had been torn up and placed in this bowl and Evelyn scrabbled for a piece of bread and crunched the crust beneath his teeth.

"Eat," he invited, his tone warm but commanding. Nathaniel moved forward in his chair and started to eat. For a while they did not speak, there was only the sound of the silver cutlery scraping against the dishes and the crunching of bread. Nathaniel felt Evelyn looking at him though, staring curiously and thoughtfully between every mouthful.

Evelyn finished first, surprisingly, leaving his dish perfectly clean and bare. Perhaps he had made it his primary concern to demonstrate the areas in everyday tasks in which he was proficient, or perhaps it was merely because he had begun slightly before Nathaniel, but either way he ended up watching Nathaniel eat in silence for a while before the footman appeared and cleared away the dishes.

Nathaniel had a glance of water and a glass of lemonade in front of him, to choose from, Evelyn also offered him wine or beer.

"Do you drink?" Nathaniel asked in surprise.

"White wine," Evelyn replied and then laughed softly at the expression on Nathaniel's face. "You think me too young?" he queried, "you would like to take charge of me, no doubt."

"Of course I could never give you orders," Nathaniel told him politely. Evelyn smiled, wryly, his one good eye glittering at Nathaniel smartly.

"I rarely drink," Evelyn told him, reassuringly, bringing up his glass to Nathaniel's eyeline as if to reassure him, "I mostly drink milk or lemonade." He laughed again and the sound was so sweet and musical that Nathaniel could barely believe that a human being could make it. There was something intrinsically ethereal about Evelyn though, he thought, a natural estrangement from reality caused, potentially, by his unhealthy childhood.

The second course was fish, a smooth healthy fillet with long green beans, potatoes, and a variety of small mixed vegetable dishes on the side. Nathaniel noticed that Evelyn's plate had all his food ready-cut into small, bite size portions. This allowed Evelyn to skew what he desired with a fork and eat comfortably one-handed.

"I always have my food prepared this way," he told Nathaniel, "It is the easiest solution."

"I could cut your food for you," Nathaniel offered eagerly, "you wouldn't need to have it specially prepared." Evelyn raised an eyebrow while he took a smooth bite of cod between his white teeth.

"But why would I do that?" he asked quizzically, "it's much more efficient to have everything diced by my kitchen staff. It's better than having you leaning over my plate isn't it?" Nathaniel felt foolish and turned his attention to his own meal and his attempt to navigate the correct knife and fork. He wasn't used to such refined dining arrangements. To his surprise Evelyn slid his own hand across the table, abandoning his own meal to indicate the correct utensils while Nathaniel dithered. His slender fingers just brushed against Nathaniel's as he pointed. Nathaniel felt his heart thud and the familiar tinge of embarrassment.

"That one," Evelyn confirmed with a nod.

"Thank you," Nathaniel said, awkwardly, selecting the long silver fork.

"There's no need to thank me," Evelyn replied, "I didn't expect you to have the most perfect knowledge of etiquette. Besides we don't really follow the rules in the house." He demonstrated by selecting a spoon for his vegetables, scooping them out carelessly.

"Yes well," Nathaniel murmured, while he delicately began to cut his fish, "I don't exactly have the same excuse." Evelyn watched him while he chewed. Nathaniel had never felt such an intense gaze upon him before.

After a while Evelyn enquired,

"What did your father do, Nathaniel?" Nathaniel looked up in surprise, not so much at the personal nature of the question but at the odd sound of his Christian name under Evelyn's tongue. "I apologize, I hope you don't mind me asking…"

"No," Nathaniel replied quickly, "of course not…my father was a bank clerk, but he died when I was fifteen." He swallowed a hasty mouthful and then added, "my aunt paid for much of my medical training but…my mother needed extra help in the end and I didn't want to be a burden…"

Evelyn nodded, and considered what he had been told in silence for a moment. He turned his head to look at his worn bear beside him whilst he thought as if he were communicating with him telepathically, discussing the matter over. Nathaniel took the opportunity to take another couple of hasty mouthfuls, less delicate than the petite bites he felt obliged to take under the boy's gaze.

"So that was why you did not complete your training…?" Evelyn wondered, his face still turned away as he spoke, as if he were not actually addressing Nathaniel at all but simply making the statement to himself.

"Yes," Nathaniel replied, simply. He felt a little ashamed of his background, of his lack of achievement. There was another period of silence as they ate. The fish course was taken away and some French bread and butters were brought in. Here Evelyn requested help for the first time, asking that Nathaniel cut and butter his bread for him. The heat radiated from the warm bread as Nathaniel cut in and the butter ran almost clear as he smothered it carefully inside. Evelyn took it back from him gratefully and took a large bite. Butter trickled from the corner of his mouth and Nathaniel instinctively took a napkin to brush it away. Evelyn was startled by the gesture though and had already brought his sleeve up to anxiously to wipe his face and knocked Nathaniel's hand away.

He coughed a little, and flushed with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," Nathaniel said quickly, "perhaps I was too quick to overstep…"

"No," Evelyn said quickly, his voice a little hoarse, "please, I'm an idiot, I ruin my shirts all the time." He gave a nervous laugh, covering his mouth self-consciously as he did so.

Nathaniel smiled, putting the napkin down, watching as Evelyn gulped down some water.

"You don't need to hesitate," he told him, once he had made himself comfortable again, "I will tell you if you overstep."

Nathaniel nodded silently. Not knowing where to fix his attention he decided to stare across at the dining companion opposite him, into his dark stitch eyes. The next two courses of fruit and cake went by quickly, without incident. The juicier fruits smeared Evelyn's lips again and this time he paused while Nathaniel reached across and allowed him to wipe his mouth with a polite, delicate motion. It felt a little like miming an action with a doll, Nathaniel considered, Evelyn's skin was so smooth and still while he reached across to him, but under his thick eyelashes his brown eye looked at Nathaniel intelligently.

The footman brought them in coffee to finish and Nathaniel drank his contentedly.

"Will you hold mine too?" Evelyn asked, after waiting for Nathaniel to take a long and satisfactory slip. "I sometimes would manage but it's quite hot and its easiest to hold with two hands…"

"Of course," Nathaniel said, taking Evelyn's cup in his hands and raising it to his lips to drink. Evelyn smiled at him, gratefully, when he put the cup down.

"We will work well together won't we?" he said, regarding Nathaniel with a heavy gaze, "once we get used to things…"

"I hope so," Nathaniel replied. Evelyn plucked Edward from his seat and pulled the threadbare toy on to his lap, wheeling his chair out slightly from the table to be comfortable.

"My father used to have great dinner parties in here before I was born," he disclosed, regarding the length of the table. "I don't," he added with a wry smile. He then nodded politely Nathaniel as if he were a guest.

"Did you enjoy dinner?" He asked. It seemed a strange question somehow. Nathaniel had not consider whether he should be satisfied by the impressive dinner, he felt that he should naturally be grateful to be given such a meal at all.

"Yes," he said quickly, "yes, of course."

Evelyn nodded again, a serene expression upon his face.

"I'm glad."