olden times for Tommy

[oohforeshadowing]

The great country pile isn't their speed, really.

Double had their lovely house in London, bought and paid for by their adoptive father - a High Fae of some high regard, who'd been fretting about their lands and accounts falling into strangers' hands when he passed on. It was a heartrending story, of course, and Double was...well, positively delighted to be anything the old man wanted them to be. For the right price.

Shapeshifters have long since had a bad reputation for sliding into the upper echelons this way. They hadn't been in penury to begin with, by any means, but 'lovely house in London' money and 'vast estates with mining wealth and hundreds of rate-paying tenants' money is not the same by some order of magnitude.

The old man died peacefully in his bed, well over a century old, and left the manor house and everything that went with it to their sole heir. Who is going to sell it all, eventually, but it feels tasteless not to even let their 'father's' body grow cold.

They move in after the last of their furniture has been transported, and lets the housekeeper give them the tour. They cut quite the figure: long blond hair pinned up in curls, a jacket and blouse tailored tightly to a corseted waist, the snug high-waisted breeches favoured by most males. Their tail is the most exposed part of them and the woman they're following keeps eyeing it like she's not sure if it's obscene or not.

"...show you the stables, your grace," she says, as she walks ahead to the outbuildings.

"Ah. I suppose we ought."

Comments

[oohforeshadowing]

"Do you know, I think that you can," they say, head tilted. "I haven't seen the boundaries of the estate, yet. I was wondering if you could show me around."

They know it's dreadful to say it like a request when he's got no choice but to take it as an order. They've done it anyway, though.

[bleak_midwinter]

He does hate it, but their adoptive father had a knack for the same thing- pretend to be courteous, while actually giving no one any choice. In this, at least, they appear to have been adopted quite rightly.

"Naturally. Are you an experienced rider, or would you prefer a gentle mount?"

[oohforeshadowing]

Double blinks once, then again with their inner eyelids, and does not say any of the several things they're thinking.

"I'm adaptable, darling," they tell him, and open the gate which lets them cross to the other side of the fence. "Budge up a little, would you?"

[bleak_midwinter]

"Your Grace - we can't be on the same horse. You'll have this one, George will fetch mine."

He looks... astonished. Is he not understanding some high-class vernacular? Does 'budge up mean 'get the hell off this horse and let me roam around on my own?

He's moving to get off, just in case.

[oohforeshadowing]

Double's tail curls around - also hitching up their skirt and exposing their stockings, since the habit isn't tailored for it - to give Thomas a restraining nudge. Stay right where you are.

"Are you suggesting this poor beast is so delicate it can't take two? I'm not so heavy as all that, Mister Shelby."

[bleak_midwinter]

"It isn't proper," he protests, again, though he obviously isn't moving now. He isn't looking at their legs, just their face.

He's a degenerate, it has been said, so he doesn't care about being sexually proper. But the person in front of him has far higher social standing, and he can't be thought of as improper. It could cost him the job, and any others in the future.

[oohforeshadowing]

"Surely that's for me to wrestle with, darling? You were just following orders," they point out, and maybe take a slightly deeper breath than necessary before placing a foot on the stirrup and lifting themself up behind Thomas with exceptional ease.

If the horse didn't already have one passenger keeping it under control, they honestly doubt they would have had the nerve.

"If anyone asks, I'm some silly rich cityfolk who can't ride."

[bleak_midwinter]

This is not how it works out here, and he's in the terrible position of not being able to tell them. They should have known, should have been taught about these social contracts: the servants are there for your every need, and in return you do them the favor of not pushing them outside their role. It's a well-established thing, that they should know about. He can't tell anyone 'my new master is silly rich city folk who can't ride'. How can they not know?

He grits his teeth in defeat, though, of course. What else can he do? He jerks his chin at George, who opens the gate back up.

"Run the last one while I'm gone, and you know the rest," he tells the stablehand. Then, he supposes he's off. They're off.

[oohforeshadowing]

"Thank you, Mr Shelby," they murmur, sweet and soft from bare inches behind him. He smells - a little rural, yes, but not unpleasantly so. Hints of fresh hay and whatever soap he uses.

They focus on him partly for the pleasure of it, and partly so as not to worry about the animal underneath them as they travel.

"How long have you worked here?"

[bleak_midwinter]

"Ten years, Your Grace."

He tries not to think about their soft, supple form behind him. The saddle is barely big enough for two, and they're pushed up behind him. Their skirts rustle against his legs, and they smell so good to a nose used to horses and hay.

"Your father took me on."

[oohforeshadowing]

"Ten years," they reflect quietly. He's maybe thirty, and most boys start in service in their teens, so: "He poached you from another household, then?"

Or he'd lost work elsewhere and Papa had scooped him up when he had no alternative. The Duke was a decent man in some respects, but Fae are always a little ethically removed even by supernatural standards.

[bleak_midwinter]

He shakes his head.

"No. I wasn't in service before coming here, but I knew horses."

No real revelation on how, or why, just yet. He'll probably answer if pressed, but the backstory isn't going to be endearing, and this ride feels like a test.

[oohforeshadowing]

Hmm.

"A mystery, then!" they chirp, and lay a delicate hand on his shoulder, ostensibly to steady themself. Riding sidesaddle isn't that precarious but sometimes feels it. "Papa did like to collect curiosities, darling. That's something I suppose we have in common."

[bleak_midwinter]

He tenses for a second before forcing his shoulders to drop again. He's getting a sense for what they're doing now, and he might as well relax, not make this more of a chase for them. Appear uninteresting, unmoved.

"...I can't say you're wrong about that. He certainly had the means to collect whatever he wanted. We didn't see much of him the past few years, of course. I assumed London was just as interesting."

[oohforeshadowing]

"London is...colourful," they murmur. "All of society seems to drift that way eventually. For the theatre, the galleries, the company. A lot of Fae, for all they talk about their bonds with nature. But he never seemed quite at home there. Have you lived in a city?"

[bleak_midwinter]

"Not one as grand as London, Your Grace. I spent years in Birmingham, but it hardly compares."

He's taking them directly to the furthest edge of the property first, towards the woods now.

[oohforeshadowing]

"Ahh - yes, of course. That lovely accent of yours."

Nary a trace of sarcasm; they sound genuinely complimentary. He does have a nice voice. They don't ask why he left. There's all the time in the world to make a full character study.

"I'm sure it's perfectly nice, darling. I've only ever passed a night or two there myself."

[bleak_midwinter]

"Have you?"

It's not nice, but it was home for a while. He does miss it, but he hasn't been there in a decade - the time off he gets on the estate doesn't allow him to travel that far.

"Where are you from?"

[oohforeshadowing]

"I don't remember much of my early years, I'm afraid, but I do recall growing up in London - for all that it mattered," they sigh, with just a hint of melodrama. "Raised by nurses, educated by governesses, barely a reason to leave the house. Not that I expect your sympathies," they add, briskly.

[bleak_midwinter]

With their hand on his back, they'll be able to feel a quick laugh, though he doesn't voice it. Sympathy? Hardly, they're right about that.

"Did the Duke adopt you as a child, then?"

[oohforeshadowing]

Trouble smiles at that silent rumble of amusement. Gratifying.

"Not a young child," they tell him. "He was my...ah, I suppose 'godparent' is the closest equivalent, in humans' culture. I largely knew him from our exchange of letters, the occasional gift. He would have travelled to London seven years ago, for a funeral? My parents. That was when we became more closely acquainted."

[bleak_midwinter]

"Because your parents were close to him? Or is this a Fae custom?"

The longer he keeps them talking the longer he can keep their attention off of him - and honestly, despite himself, he wants to know the story here.

[oohforeshadowing]

And Double is all too aware of how easily they can be tempted into exposition. But they're not going to stop.

"More the former, I think. And simple convenience, of course. I hosted him during his stays in the city, and one doesn't go to the theatre or out to dinner alone, so - I was something of a companion for him."

They carefully trace their thumb along the shoulder seam of his jacket.

"I think to a degree I was being tested. He was feeling his age. He wanted to know that I would be a worthy heir."

[bleak_midwinter]

He can feel their touch through all the layers of clothing, and feels an odd sort of dread settle in his stomach. Something about them fascinates him, but most of him is put off by even the thought of his own interest.

"What are the requirements to being heir to the Fae? Magical ability? Vocabulary? Keeping up with the fashions?" He's joking. A little.

[oohforeshadowing]

Double chuckles softly, a low warm sound close to his ear.

"You're not altogether wrong," they permit. "I can't be an embarrassment in company, and looking the part very much contributes - though that's easier for me than most people," they tease lightly.

"But most of all, he wanted to know I could run his estate without running it into the ground. That I wouldn't go gambling his wealth into nothingness and lose his fortune to the bailiffs."