THE GUV wished to speak to me. Such a notion sent shivers through my spine, but I realised I'd have to oblige lest my absence lead to further trouble.
I left my study and set off down the hallway, until I reached the foyer, and the winding staircase that lead upstairs. I sighed, placed my hand on the bannister and sighed again. It was covered in dust. I shook my head sadly and made a mental note to dock Botcher's pay until he got the place cleaned up a bit. It was a disgrace, hardly worthy of a lord.
Likely Hall was a grand old mansion that had been left to me in my parents' will, after they had been discourteous enough to vanish, presumed dead, whilst on an expedition to the Swiss Alps when I was but 12 years old. Inheriting such a large pile at such a young age had proven bewildering to me, but over the years I had made it more of my own, though a lot of the furnishings and fittings remained in the late Georgian style in which it had been decorated. I had added my own touches, including a rather extensive library of pornography in lieu of the original library, but overall the place had seen better days, its condition not helped by the skeleton staff that remained employed in the house - i.e Botcher.
I slowly made my way up the creaky stairs until I reached the next floor, at which point I made my way to The Guv's room. I tried straightening my suit to disguise the fact that I had slept in it last night, patted down my hair, and knocked at the door.
"Come." Came a stern voice from within. I swallowed hard, and pushed the door open.
The room inside was extremely neat, a large bed dominating the space, with a writing table next to a large window and an impressively sized wardrobe further down from that. The curtains were still drawn, so the room was largely shrouded in darkness, but I could clearly see a figure sitting in a rocking chair on the other side of the bed, a pair of beady eyes fixed on me. This was The Guv.
"Ah, there you are boy," she said.
The Guv was a nickname that had been bestowed upon my governess, Governess Glandmash. You may find it peculiar that I, a fully-grown man in my prime, would require a governess and you would be quite correct in that summation. I did not require her services at all. She had, in fact, been employed by my parents when I was 7 years old, to assist in my education and to spare me from having to mingle with common children at any of the parochial local schools, before I'd inevitably take my rightful place at a private college later on. However, when my parents passed, Glandmash had refused to relinquish her position, reasoning that it was down to my parents to terminate her employment and was not the duty of their then young son. With my parents stubbornly refusing to return from the dead, she continued to remain in my employ to this day. It was like she came with the house, a piece of unwanted furniture that, no matter how hard one tried, one could not get rid of.
She was now in her seventies or eighties or something - I wasn't entirely sure of her age, just that she was a cantankerous old bag. Her grey hair was pulled back into a tight bun, a pair of half-moon spectacles perched on her ghastly old nose. She had the look of someone who had been sucking on a lemon for half a century.
"Botcher tells me that you are writing a book," she said, keeping her gaze fixed on me.
"Yes...well, sort of," I said. "I have decided to take my diaries to a publisher in London, with a view to having them published and becoming an international bestseller."
"Mmm," said The Guv, rather noncommittally.
"Now before you start bemoaning the whole enterprise and proclaiming it to be a terrible idea, I think you should know that I do not requite one ounce of your approval, you wizened old - "
"You should do it," The Guv said. I blinked unbelievingly.
"Pardon?"
"You should do it," she repeated. "I think it is high time you got out there and did something instead of lollygagging about the place, drunk out of your skull, sleeping in your clothes."
"I... I don't know what you mean," I said, surreptitiously readjusting my tie.
"You can't very well get by on your inheritance and do bugger all else forever," The Guv continued. "The money is fast running dry and if it comes to a point where you can ill-afford to pay me, I shall be forced to smash your kneecaps in with my cane."
"I see."
"Furthermore, it would be nice to have you out of the house now and then. I can get on with my own things - potting some fresh houseplants, reupholstering the couches, taking in a gentleman lover and having him thud my brains out..."
"I...excuse me?"
"I'm not getting any younger you know," The Guv sniffed. "I still have needs though. Thick, long, hard needs."
"Please, stop talking," I protested.
"I swear if I go to my grave without being double-ended by a couple of studly farmhands, I shall never forgive you and shall haunt you for eternity."
"That's disgusting," I grimaced.
"Oh I see, it is fine for you to regale us with tales of your sexual exploits but woe betide that I should share my desire to be thoroughly ploughed by a rugged, muscular labourer while bent over a billiard table."
"God, I feel sick," I wailed, trying desperately not to conjure forth the mental image that her words were attempting to manifest.
"Probably the booze," The Guv said, waving at me with a dismissive gesture. "Go on, be on your way. All this talk has got me quite hot and bothered and I feel I need some time to tend to myself quite urgently. Off you pop, and do not come back until you have made something of yourself."
I swiftly shut the door and headed back down the stairs. Botcher was waiting for me, dressed in his riding coat.
"I've got the horse and carriage ready, boss," he said. "Ready to go for a ride?"
"I don't know if I shall ever be able to face a ride again," I said, my mind still reeling from my conversation with The Guv.
"Oh. Everything okay with The Guv?"
"Let us not mention her again for a good... few years," I replied, heading to the front door. "Come along, I need some fresh air."
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