Upstairs, Downstairs, Out the Back Door
Apr. 17th, 2019 08:00 amSebastian St. Battenberg was still unmarried at age 30, a fact that his mother bemoaned at least once a week, and more often than that if there was company in the house. His considerably older brother had landed himself a suitable wife at 25, and now had produced no less than four children, firmly entrenching himself as the favored son. Not that the younger brother ever stood a chance. The only thing he'd ever really been good at was sport, and while that was perfectly acceptable for a boy in his teens, it was no longer the done thing for a man his age. So Sebastian was left as the useless younger son, and only his father seemed willing to give him some responsibility around the estate. It was all going to go to Edmund in the end, of course.
But without a family to attend to, or more taxing responsibilities at home, Sebastian was often left at ends. And he was generally the one who took up residence in their London home during the season, bringing his valet, Alfred, with him, and attended only by the man he had known since he was a child, and a housekeeper/cook. Sebastian was very fond of Alfred, but also found him a bit stodgy. He never came out drinking with his master, no matter how many times Sebastian asked, and often went to bed far earlier than Sebastian, despite the fact that he was only a few years older. He supposed his valet didn't sleep very well, because despite this, the man often seemed tired during the day. Not that it was ever obvious, but Sebastian knew him well enough, after all these years.
The valet didn't have a wife or children, either, but Sebastian had always vaguely assumed that Alfred was married to his work. It certainly never occurred to him that the man might harbor the same secret he himself had. Not long into his mid-teens, Sebastian had come to the realization that he didn't have any romantic interest in girls whatsoever. It had taken more years than that to come to terms with it, but despite his mother's pushing, he had never agreed to marry any of the numerous, suitable young women he had been introduced to. The fact was, Sebastian liked a few of them, and to take away their opportunity to marry someone who could love them and give them children seemed cruel and dishonorable. He might never be able to admit the truth to his family, but he wasn't going to damn anyone else, either.
It was however, only within the last few years that Sebastian had discovered he didn't simply have to content himself to a life of celibacy. While there were certain no prospects in the village back home (or at least none that he knew of), London was a different story altogether. And it was in the molly house, the taverns in the rougher parts of town, that Sebastian could be free. If the brief affairs (sometimes, more often than not, really) were motivated by some financial gain for the other party, the big man didn't mind. Perhaps he might long for something different, but even this was more than he'd ever expected to have, and Sebastian was, after all, a cheerful sort at heart. He'd make the best of what he was given.
Tonight, though, he wasn't feeling even the slightest lack. He'd just seen a new play in one of the smaller West End theaters, a bombastic, vibrant production that he'd thoroughly enjoyed. Sebastian was no great patron of the arts, but he did love a good story, with lots of fighting and declaiming and death and the right people winning out in the end. He had cheered the loudest throughout the whole thing, and now he was talking to anyone in the tavern who would listen about what a fantastic show it was, causing multiple men who thought they might land an ox in their beds tonight to reconsider.
"And that blond fellow! What a showman! I haven't seen him before, but that voice!" Sebastian gushed to the barman, who simply placed another glass of whiskey in front of the excitable man indulgently.
But without a family to attend to, or more taxing responsibilities at home, Sebastian was often left at ends. And he was generally the one who took up residence in their London home during the season, bringing his valet, Alfred, with him, and attended only by the man he had known since he was a child, and a housekeeper/cook. Sebastian was very fond of Alfred, but also found him a bit stodgy. He never came out drinking with his master, no matter how many times Sebastian asked, and often went to bed far earlier than Sebastian, despite the fact that he was only a few years older. He supposed his valet didn't sleep very well, because despite this, the man often seemed tired during the day. Not that it was ever obvious, but Sebastian knew him well enough, after all these years.
The valet didn't have a wife or children, either, but Sebastian had always vaguely assumed that Alfred was married to his work. It certainly never occurred to him that the man might harbor the same secret he himself had. Not long into his mid-teens, Sebastian had come to the realization that he didn't have any romantic interest in girls whatsoever. It had taken more years than that to come to terms with it, but despite his mother's pushing, he had never agreed to marry any of the numerous, suitable young women he had been introduced to. The fact was, Sebastian liked a few of them, and to take away their opportunity to marry someone who could love them and give them children seemed cruel and dishonorable. He might never be able to admit the truth to his family, but he wasn't going to damn anyone else, either.
It was however, only within the last few years that Sebastian had discovered he didn't simply have to content himself to a life of celibacy. While there were certain no prospects in the village back home (or at least none that he knew of), London was a different story altogether. And it was in the molly house, the taverns in the rougher parts of town, that Sebastian could be free. If the brief affairs (sometimes, more often than not, really) were motivated by some financial gain for the other party, the big man didn't mind. Perhaps he might long for something different, but even this was more than he'd ever expected to have, and Sebastian was, after all, a cheerful sort at heart. He'd make the best of what he was given.
Tonight, though, he wasn't feeling even the slightest lack. He'd just seen a new play in one of the smaller West End theaters, a bombastic, vibrant production that he'd thoroughly enjoyed. Sebastian was no great patron of the arts, but he did love a good story, with lots of fighting and declaiming and death and the right people winning out in the end. He had cheered the loudest throughout the whole thing, and now he was talking to anyone in the tavern who would listen about what a fantastic show it was, causing multiple men who thought they might land an ox in their beds tonight to reconsider.
"And that blond fellow! What a showman! I haven't seen him before, but that voice!" Sebastian gushed to the barman, who simply placed another glass of whiskey in front of the excitable man indulgently.