Sequel to A Festive Gathering at Chelsea
In the winter of 1817, Drury Lane Theatre actor Henry Kent, otherwise known as Harry Smith, ventures into deepest Essex to meet the parents of his French musician lover Luc Gerrard.
Harry isn’t sure what to expect away from the familiar bustle of London, apart from being bored witless in the countryside. He’s never come across a couple of French aristocrats at close quarters. But Harry is nothing if resourceful and charming, and besides, he’s with Luc, which is what matters.
But once surrounded by the family that Luc adores, Harry can’t help thinking of his relatives across the Essex border on the Kent coast. Harry made a clean break when he left Whitstable four years ago to pursue his career on the London stage, resulting in his parents’ fury and a flat ultimatum. He has only renewed contact with them by letter in recent months, with Luc’s encouragement.
Should Harry let things lie? Or might he summon the courage to make a trip to the seaside in an attempt at reconciliation?
Luc led the way up the staircase, giving Harry a brief tour by the light of the candle. “Mama and Papa are at the front of the house with the guest room next door. That’s where my sister Elisabeth and her husband will stay. Then their two children will sleep in Elisabeth’s old room, and that just leaves you and me.”
By the time Luc had completed this description, they were walking along a corridor that led towards the back of the house. Luc stopped and opened the door.
“It’s not much,” he said.
The room wasn’t large, but its square proportions and high ceiling gave it a sense of spaciousness. Also, by its contents, it was clearly Luc’s room from boyhood.
Typically, there were no toy soldiers on display. On the dresser lay a child-sized violin case surrounded by the usual clutter of rosin and spare violin strings that characterised Luc’s presence in their London home.
Harry was charmed by these symbols of Luc as a child. However, he was relieved that the original bed had been replaced by one suitable for Luc’s adult height and of a width to encompass them both.
A small fire had been lit in the grate and their bags were placed beside the bed, proof of Luc’s industry. Harry sat on the mattress and bounced to check for any creaks.
“This is cosy.”
Luc immediately started apologizing, which Harry now regarded as a family trait.
“I’m sorry it’s a bit shabby. I did write to my parents to ask the maid to give the place a thorough airing.”
“I wasn’t expecting Brighton Pavilion. It’ll do fine.” Harry glanced around the room. “It’s about the same size as our bedroom at home, more or less. Anyway, we’re together, which is what counts.”
Luc’s brow cleared. “It’s good to have you here,” he said with a shy smile. He lit the bedside candle from the one he carried. “I’ll get some hot water for washing then we’ll be set for the night.”
Briefly left to his own devices, Harry couldn’t be bothered to unpack properly. It can wait until morning. He dug out a nightshirt from his bag. At home, he preferred to sleep naked, winter or summer, curled up close to Luc’s bare skin.
However, Harry conceded that compromises must be made, both from common decency and the icy draught seeping through the sash window. On the plus side, they were a fair distance from the other occupants and not obligated to celibacy as long as they didn’t shout the house down.
On Luc’s return, they made short work of sluicing away the grime of travel before jumping into bed. Luc turned to blow out the candle.
Despite the coverings of his nightshirt and the blankets, Harry was freezing. The dismal hooting of an owl made him shiver.
“Are you warm enough?”
“No.”
“Should I fetch some more blankets from the clothes press?”
Warned by the rustle of sheets to Luc’s intent, Harry seized him before he could cause a waft of frigid air to enter their bed.
“Don’t you dare! Come here. I can think of a better way to stoke up some heat.”
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