A Stranger in Mayfair - Charles Finch [5]
All of this still left one enormous problem: the butlers. Both Lenox and Lady Jane had long-serving butlers who seemed half part of the family. In fact it was unusual for a woman to have a butler rather than a housekeeper, but Jane had insisted on it when she first came to London, and now Kirk, an extremely fat, extremely dignified Yorkshireman, had been with her for nearly twenty years. More seriously, there was Graham. For all of Lenox’s adult life, Graham had been his butler, and more importantly his confidant and companion. They had met when Lenox was a student and Graham a scout at Balliol College; special circumstances had bound them there, and when Lenox left for London he had taken Graham with him. He had fetched Lenox his morning coffee, yes, but Graham had also helped him in a dozen of his cases, campaigned for him in Stirrington, and traveled with him across Europe and to Russia. Now all that might change.
So when Lenox returned to London, he went over the new house with an awed, pleased eye—it was just as he had imagined it being—but with the consciousness as well that he had to confront the problem of Graham. The next morning he had a rather radical idea.
He rang the bell, and soon Graham appeared with a breakfast tray laden with eggs, ham, kippers, and toast, a pot of fragrant black coffee to the side. He was a compact, sandy-haired, and intelligent-looking man.
“Good morning, Graham.”
“Good morning, sir. May I welcome you back less formally to London?” The previous night the servants had lined the hall and curtsied and bowed in turn to the newlyweds, then presented them with the wedding present of a silver teapot.
“Thanks. That’s awfully kind of you—it’s a wonderful pot. Graham, would you sit down and keep me company for a moment? You don’t mind if I eat, do you? Fetch yourself a cup to have some of this coffee if you like.”
Graham shook his head at the offer but sat down in the armchair across from Lenox, an act that would have drawn gasps from many of Lenox’s acquaintances for its familiarity. They made idle chat about Switzerland as Lenox gulped down coffee and eggs, until at last, sated, he pushed his plate away and sat happily back, patting the crimson dressing gown over his stomach.
“How long have we known each other, Graham?” asked Lenox.
“Twenty-one years, sir.”
“Is it really that long? Yes, I suppose I was eighteen. It scarcely seems credible. Twenty-one years. We’ve grown middle-aged together, haven’t we?”
“Indeed, sir.”
“I just got married, Graham.”
The butler, who had been at the wedding, allowed himself the ghost of a smile. “I heard something of it, sir.”
“Did you never consider it?”
“Once, sir, but the lady’s affections were otherwise engaged.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.”
“It was many years ago, sir, when we still lived in Oxford.”
“Have you been happy in your employment?”
“Yes, sir.” Graham was an understated man, but he said this emphatically. “Both in my daily duties and in the less usual ones you have asked me to perform, Mr. Lenox.”
“I’m glad to hear it. You don’t fancy a change of work?”
“No, sir. Not in the slightest.”
“You mustn’t look so stony-faced, Graham. I’m not firing you—not by a long shot. Remind me, what papers do you read?”
“Excuse me?”
“What newspapers do you read?”
“The house subscribes to—”
“No, Graham, not the house—you.”
“Below stairs we take the Times and the Manchester Guardian, sir. In my spare hours I usually read both.”
“Does anyone else read them downstairs?”
Graham