Humble Pie

Lord William Prentice of the Canterbury Prentice's sponged soapy hot water up and down his long, white arms. Peter made a concerted effort not to look at the long white arms nor at the man that owned them. Sitting there in the bathtub with the soap bubbles on his head and chin, his Lordship looked like he might be ten or eleven years old. The truth was, Lord William was twenty-one, the same age as Peter.

Peter sat near the fireplace which blazed in the corner of the grand bathroom. He was wearing his customary blue blazer and charcoal gray wool pants. He had a laptop computer on his knees and he read the next inquiry in precisely spoken words.

“Bradley Wilmington of Wilmington Glen requests that you be his friend.”

“Brad Wilmington? Did you say Brad Wilmington, Peter? Tell me you did not just say that Brad Wilmington inquired if I would be his friend?”

Peter pulled his chair several feet from the burning fireplace and regained his seat. “Bradley Wilmington, your Lordship. Of Wilmington Glen.”

“Well,” said Lord William Prentice rising up chest high above the soap suds and pointing a foamy finger at Peter, “You tell Bradly Wilmington of Wilmington Glen that his Lordship would rather drowned in his own vomit than be his friend!”

“Yes, your Lordship.”

“The unmitigated gall!”

“Yes, your Lordship.”

“Next!” said Lord William lowering himself back into the water.

“Tony Blaire requests that you would be his friend,” said Peter.

“Tony Blaire... Tony Blaire... Is that the Tony Blaire that, that, you remember, used to be--”

“The Prime Minister, yes your Lordship.”

“I don't know, Peter. He has never really been my cup of tea.”

“Would that be a 'No', your Lordship?”

“Well, one really shouldn't be hasty in affairs such as this... No! Tell him yes!”

“Yes.” said Peter taking a deep and silent breath.

“Why not? I mean really, why not?”

“Yes, to Tony Blaire. Very good, Sir.”

“But I don't want to chat with him.”

“No, my Lord.”

“He has never really been my cup of tea.”

“Of course, Sir.”

“Next!”

“Sir Bunky Ross-More requests that you would be his friend.”

“Bunky Ross-More? Bunkey Ross-More requests what, Peter?

“Requests that you be his--”

“Ha!” said Lord William kicking his foot inside the tub with such sudden glee a wave of water splashed over the side hitting Peter directly on both his highly polished black wing-tips, and soaking his black socks too, along with the floor.

“What cheek!” added his Lordship.

“Would that be a 'No', sir?”

“Yes.”

“Yes it would be a 'No', then?”

“No, that would be a yes. Oh, Peter, I don't know,” said Lord William with such gravity and lack of enthusiasm that for a moment Peter feared his Lordship's head was going to slide under the water.

“Should we get back to this tomorrow morning when you are feeling more up to the task?” asked Peter standing to his feet with his laptop clutched to his chest.

“Well, I am a bit fatigued,” said his Lordship.

“Of course sir,” said the manservant a bit louder than he had intended. He made it to the door in three long strides and just had his hand on the doorknob when--

“What about that Jenny girl? You know the one...”

“Jenny McNaughton, sir,” said Peter over his shoulder, his eyes suddenly clenched tightly closed.

“Yes! Jenny McNaughton! Now there is a fine looking piece of womanhood! Well come on man, what did she say? I asked to be friends, if I remember correctly.”

“You did indeed, sir.”

“And...?”

“And, it seems... It seems she declined your Lordship's request.”

Peter still had his hand on the doorknob when he heard the sudden sound of water splashing from the tub behind him.

“She declined? She declined? Jenny McNaughton! What did she say?”

“I really couldn't say, Your Lordship.”

“Come on man, out with it!”

Peter heard the bathwater splashing again and knew inside himself if he were to turn around at this moment he would find his young master standing up in the tub and glaring at him.

“Something about having better things to do than to go out with a skinny, little pencil-dick like yourself, I think is how she phrased it, my Lord.”

Peter felt the smile growing on his face as he said it. He opened the door and walked half beyond it before he asked, “Will that be all, My Lord?”

“Well, the very cheek of her!” said Lord William in barely a whisper.

“Yes, my Lord.” said Peter closing the door behind him and now walking hurriedly down the hallway.

“I mean the unmitigated cheek!”came Lord William Prentice's outraged voice from behind the door. “I won't have it! Do you hear me? I will not have it!”

“No,” said Peter holding himself back from dancing down the brightly lit hallway, “I don't fancy you shall!”

And with that Peter hurried down four flights of stairs to his quarters behind the kitchen. Once his bedroom door was tightly shut, he laughed a glorious and joyful laugh and asked Jenny McNaughton on FaceBook if she would kindly be his friend.


-880 Words-