Houston Havens

The Butler’s Tale By Charles Eden Westcott – Part 3

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I have a 3 part story to share with my readers.

Part 1 http://wp.me/p3LXwB-bO

Part 2 – http://wp.me/p3LXwB-bY

Part 3 – Conclusion Today

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The Butler’s Tale

 By Charles Eden Westcott

All seemed right with the world when I opened my bedroom window on Thursday morning; the breathtaking scent of geraniums came wafting in on the breeze and in beautiful sunshine, the birds were singing. In good heart I toddled off to the Great Hall, where our visitors had arrived for breakfast in equally high spirits. The upturn in the weather was the blessing they needed. ‘A couple of hours in the sun and we’ll have everything wrapped up,’ Dorothy assured me.

Good news indeed. If their assignment was likely to be over before lunch then there was no necessity for me to follow them around the gardens. Scarcely able to believe my luck, I was still whistling a happy tune when I called upon his lordship.

‘Good morning Charles. Somebody sounds happy.’

‘Indeed I am Sir, on such a glorious morning.’

‘I’m pleased to hear it. I’m feeling pretty damn good myself.

His lordship looked well, too. With a sparkle in his eye he’d already bathed and shaved, and he listened attentively when I gave him the morning’s news.

‘Excellent! Then Ms Havens will have ample time to pack her bags before she spends the night with me.’

‘You mean you’ve spoken to her, Sir?’

‘Not yet but I will, at seven o’clock this evening when we dine together in my study.’

‘But what of our other guests Sir, shouldn’t you dine with them on their last night, as a matter of etiquette?

‘Don’t worry about etiquette, Charles. My patronage is their privilege, not my obligation. I repeat – Ms Havens and I shall dine privately. In more intimate surroundings she’ll be able to appreciate my sensitive side before I shag her over the piano. Furthermore, you shall be in attendance. ’

‘Me Sir? But who will serve the rest of the party? We’re down to the bare bones as it is. The kitchen staff have coped admirably with helping out at breakfast, but dinner is a different kettle of fish altogether; they need all hands on deck. Other than Molly the laundry maid, the stable lads and the part-time Mrs Mops…’

‘Cedric can serve them.’

‘What, with his fingernails full of compost?’

‘Lend him a pair of your gloves. Come on Charles, use your noggin. At times like this we have to be resourceful. Leave it to Cedric. Your priority now is to get Ms Havens to my study.’

‘How the devil am I to achieve that, Sir?’

‘Bound and gagged with a sack over her head, if necessary. Just use your initiative.’

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Our visitors were winding down and beginning to celebrate the achievement of a job well done. That’s the impression I got when I heard them chattering in the gardens, even before I passed them on the way to the potting shed. In contrast I felt distinctly morose, a condition exacerbated by the argumentative Cedric, who flatly refused to believe the message I delivered when I caught him having a crafty snooze. In the end I left him a pair of white gloves and told him to please himself if he wished to go against his lordship’s wishes.

Somebody called my name on my way back to the house. It was Ms Havens and from the way her compatriots were whooping and cavorting, and doing those ridiculous high fives, it was clear they’d finished.

‘Hi Charles!’

‘Mission accomplished, Ms Havens?’

‘Yeah, we’re all done! Hey, what’s the matter? You look like you’re carrying the world on your shoulders. Come on, give me a smile. I want a souvenir picture of you and me.’

I couldn’t help but cheer up. A photograph with Ms Havens was the first of several. Even the hideous hippy wanted a picture taken with me, though I suspect his motive had much to do with some jolly japes taking place behind us.

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With the rest of the day to themselves, our guests were able to pop into the Great Hall as and when they pleased. Some chose to eat right away, others wanted to freshen up first. A cold buffet, ideal for all, gave me the lesser responsibility of maintaining a steady stream of refreshments and time to think about the problem I’d been lumbered with. As luck would have it, fate smiled when Ms Havens arrived for lunch.

‘Hey Charles, come and sit with me.’

‘I’m sorry Ms Havens, but it isn’t the done thing for staff to dine with guests. As a matter of fact it’s considered highly inappropriate and…’

‘Aw c’mon, don’t be so damn formal. We’ve had breakfasts together, haven’t we?’

A slice of toast and a cup of tea when nobody else was around was hardly the same thing but I sensed the point would be lost on Ms Havens. With some discomfort, I joined her for lunch. Of course I was glad of the opportunity to talk to her but the right words were hard to come by.

‘C’mon, Charles, something’s bothering you, I know there is, so spill it. C’mon, I wanna know.’

‘Very well Ms Havens, I’ll come straight to the point. His lordship requests that you to dine with him in private this evening. He wants me to take you to his study at seven o’clock.’

‘What for?

‘Because he regrets any impropriety on his part and he’d very much like to make amends, if you’ll grant him the opportunity.’

‘Well, maybe I owe him that. I guess I did overreact some, and he did try to apologise. He just said the wrong thing at the wrong time, when I was under a lot of pressure. So, is that it, is that all that’s bothering you?’

‘Not quite. It might be perfidious of me to say so, but I’ll warn you his intentions aren’t strictly honourable. He means to show you his musket, so to speak.’

 ‘His musket, huh? Okay, I get it. And you got stuck with the job because the yellow bellied snake didn’t have the guts to ask me himself?’

‘More or less’

‘Oh Charles, quit worrying, I don’t want you worrying anymore. Seven o’clock, you say? Okay, I’ll be ready. Truth is I can’t help liking him, even if he is a bad boy. He makes me laugh and in his tight pants he looks, well, what’s a girl to say? But maybe we should let him sweat awhile. If you see him before tonight, just tell him I’m thinking about it.’

I spent the rest of the afternoon keeping out of the way. An hour chatting with the stable lads and an hour appeasing the mutinous Cedric accounted for a big chunk of it. The rest of it was spent hiding in the laundry room. I didn’t report to his lordship till shortly after six, by which time he was extremely agitated.

‘Damn it Charles, I’ve been looking all over for you. Where have you been?

‘Sorry Sir, I’ve been immersed in my priority for the day, as instructed, which I have diligently pursued to the best of my ability and with the utmost dedication.’

‘All right, never mind the tosh. What did the object of your dedication say?’

‘She said she’d think about it.’

‘Think about it? Is that all?’

‘Yes Sir, that is all. One can only hope her decision is favourable when I knock on her door at seven o’clock.’

‘Well, you must have got some indication of which way the wind was blowing?’

‘None whatsoever, her response was quite neutral.’

‘Damn and blast! I think I need a stiff one. Do the honours, will you Charles?

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I don’t know how I kept a straight face as I poured his lordship a drink from the decanter. But Ms Havens was right, he did need taking down a peg and he got himself into a proper tizzy, trying on three sets of clothes before I left to receive our honoured guest.

Though Ms Havens was ready when I called upon her, she insisted I wait in her room ‘for five minutes’ while she removed and packed the few remaining items in her wardrobe. The job needed doing she said, yet when she closed her suitcase some twenty minutes later, she intimated with a smile that the delay had been more than practical.

‘Okay, that’s it. Do you think I’ve kept him waiting long enough?’

‘I imagine he’ll be going frantic.’

Ms Havens laughed, and linked her arm in mine as we left the room. I’ll confess I felt rather paternal as I escorted her along the landing. Indeed, a twinge of guilt nagged me into clearing my conscience as we neared his lordship’s study.

‘Ms Havens, it’s not too late to turn back. You don’t have to become another notch on his bed post.’

‘I’m a big girl, Charles. I’m going into this with my eyes wide open, trust me. Anyhow, I might just want another notch on mine.’

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His lordship’s face lit up when we entered the room. Splendidly attired in a smoking jacket and cravat, he sprung to greet Ms Havens.

‘Ms Havens! I’m delighted to see you, I feared you wouldn’t come.’

‘Well, it was close, but I think I made the right decision. Wow! This place is awesome, just look at those beautiful paintings.’

‘Beautiful yes, yet not as beautiful as you.’

‘Oh Edward, are you trying to make me blush?’

‘Not at all, it’s true. If you’d kindly sit beside me at the piano, I’d like to play something special for you while Charles attends to dinner.’

So far so good I thought, as I departed for the kitchen. His lordship at his noble best could be quite debonair and he didn’t let himself down on the piano. He was playing Mozart’s piano sonata number 16 in c major when I returned with a tray of salmon avocados, lobster and carrot fondants, and a jeroboam of his favourite Salon Blanc. Upon lighting the candles and displaying a single red rose, I set the table and assumed my position.

Ms Havens seemed captivated. Whether it was the beauty of the piece or the dexterity of his lordship’s fingers that enthralled her, I could not say. Perhaps it was both. Whatever it was, she was sufficiently impressed to applaud wildly when the recital was over.

‘Bravo, Lord Edward! That was wonderful!’

‘A small token of my respect and affection for you my dear.’

His lordship had hit all the right notes. A fire had been ignited and when they dined, I became an invisible man. Whether I removed a plate or refilled a glass, my actions went unnoticed. They only had eyes for each other.

They settled on the sofa after dining, leaving me to clear the table while they sipped champagne and engaged in conversation.

‘The people in these paintings, they’re all your ancestors?’

‘Oh yes, that one is Thomas Barrington, the first Earl of Newbury. The title was bestowed on him by King Charles the First, for his actions at the Battle of Newbury in 1643.’

‘Oh my God, you mean he knew the first King of England? Oh my God, that’s awesome. And what about this painting… is that the battle of Newbury?’

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‘No, that’s Bunker Hill, fought in your neck of the woods, in 1775. Charlestown, I believe. Granville Barrington, my great-great-something grandfather was the captain of Dragoons that led the charge on the American revolutionaries. His uniform and accoutrements have been in the family for generations. Would you like to see my musket?’

‘Boy, you don’t wait around, do you?’

From the amusement in Ms Havens’ voice, I sensed it was time to retreat. His lordship clearly thought so too, when he sent me for a bottle of Longwalk.

A long walk wasn’t long enough I suspected and with discretion in mind, I loitered around the west wing for some time. However, muffled noises from the study suggested something was going on and when curiosity got the better of me, I couldn’t resist spying through the keyhole.

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My squinted eye had barely focused on Ms Havens, standing in a state of disarray, when she let out an orgasmic squeal. In front of her, his lordship was on his knees. He always did have a persuasive tongue, yet the speed in which he’d got down to business was quite remarkable.

I withdrew from the door feeling rather embarrassed when an uncomfortable thought crossed my mind. Had someone had come along at that moment and caught me at the keyhole; there’d have been no excuses. Unlike his lordship, I wouldn’t have known where to put my face.

My anxiety eased once I’d considered the likelihood of anyone else being in the west wing. Since the possibility was remote and the keyhole was so inviting, I stooped for another peep, whereupon I was confronted with an alarming close up of his lordship’s taut buttocks. From the position of some well-manicured fingernails on his outer thighs, I could only conclude that a kneeling Ms Havens was performing an act of fellatio on him.

I came away from the west wing feeling rather flushed and dare I say it, a little perky. Though I did think to nip downstairs and give Molly the laundry maid a serious poking over the washing machine, I did not, though I might well have done, had I not done so earlier. Instead, I went to see how Cedric was coping with our American friends on their last night.

A cheer erupted when I arrived in the Great Hall, a spontaneous vote of approval that flattered and worried me in equal measures, as I feared they were only pleased to see me because Cedric had made a pig’s ear of things. I needn’t have worried. Though he’d clearly had a brandy or two, Cedric had exceeded all expectations, going beyond the call of duty with a song and dance routine that left everybody in celebratory mood. Indeed, with drinks flowing freely and people taking turns to stand on the table and sing a song, the atmosphere was wonderful. Though I resisted their efforts to get me on the table, I showed them I wasn’t a complete party pooper when I accompanied Cedric in showing them how to sing and dance the Hokey Cokey. A good time was had by all, an exceedingly good time, and there was much laughter before the evening came to an end.

It was past midnight when I returned to the west wing. There was little likelihood of me being needed so late in the evening, but a sense of duty prevailed. Though I found the study deserted, a musky smell lingered and I opened the windows to freshen the room before going in search of his lordship. He wasn’t difficult to find.

 ‘Oh, my God, give it to me, yeah, fuck me harder, c’mon fuck me!’

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A long cry from his lordship’s bedroom was followed by an even longer silence. Nevertheless, I crept along the landing for a quick peep through the keyhole and got there just in time to catch a glimpse of Ms Havens’ exquisite quim as she wriggled out from under her host. ‘My turn’ she said, in huskiest of voices, as she slid on top of him.

Lucky devil, I thought, as I retired to bed.

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A few tears were shed when the Americans left on Friday morning. Since his lordship could only grunt and roll over when I tried to wake him, it was incumbent on me to bid our visitors farewell. Amidst all the handshakes and hugs I was overwhelmed and a little emotional, particularly when I said goodbye to Ms Havens. No words were necessary when she hugged me with an intensity that spoke volumes. Indeed, when she broke away with tears in her eyes, I had to swallow the lump in my throat and remember I was British. I just wished she hadn’t kissed me, as the thought of where her mouth had been made me quite nauseous. Then one by one the limousine doors slammed shut and the convoy rolled off. I waved till they were out of sight, whereupon an eerie silence descended and I felt rather sad. For a bunch of yanks, they weren’t a bad lot.

The sadness lingered when I wandered back inside; the old place seemed quieter than ever. I couldn’t help feeling a little down, but scrubbing my face in the washroom helped and I felt much better once I set about my duties in the Great Hall. Everything was spick and span by midmorning when I took his lordship a fresh pot of tea.

I assumed his lordship was in the adjacent bathroom when I entered his bedroom and saw the duvet pulled back. Even when I called him and got no response, I thought little of it. I just opened the windows and poured his tea, as always.

What I saw in the bathroom is something I shall never forget; his lordship lay slumped on the floor; his face ghastly grey; his lips dreadful blue. Though I hurried to call an ambulance, I did so with little hope. Oh yes, the ambulance arrived promptly with all its lights flashing and its siren wailing, and the medics did all they could, but their efforts were in vain. His lordship was pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital.

A weak heart, a hereditary defect, it could have happened anytime, they said. A verdict of natural causes was right and proper, yet for all that, I don’t doubt the poor fellow had been shagged to death.

In death, as in life, his lordship left chaos. A will he made shortly after his father passed away named me as the sole beneficiary of his estate. As grand as it sounds, I saw it as a sentimental gesture to his father – who’d named me in his will as the reserve beneficiary in the unlikely event of me outliving the young Edward. Therefore, when his lordship named me in his will at the tender age of nineteen, he did so as a young bachelor with a long life ahead of him. It was only an interim measure, a stop gap if you like, till he married and had children, but his marriage was turbulent from the start and he never got around to making another will.

Naturally, the will was contested by Lady Barrington and the legal team representing his lordship’s little girls. Morally, the Barrington estate belonged to them, of that I could not quibble, yet I felt I was owed something and after amicable negotiations, I willingly relinquished all rights to the Barrington Hall Estate in return for financial security. Not a fortune by any means, but a tidy sum that enabled me to retire to warmer climes and live comfortably with my good companion Molly. Yes, that Molly.

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And Ms Havens? Oh yes, with great affection, I remember her well.

The End

As told by Charles. The end I remember …. the Lord enjoyed a menage now and then and what Charles didn’t tell you was he join me and the Lord that night after peeking in the keyhole….from what was said the Lord and Charles often shared the company of a model or two. It was their little secret. A secret the Lord’s Lady discovered and why she left him. And now you know why Charles was left the inheritance….but don’t tell Molly, she’d be upset to know keyhole Charlie has a wild side. *wink*

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Author: houstonhavens

Houston Havens is an international and national Best Seller of Romance from erotic to main steam. Reviewers say her books are 5 star quality and should be the next block buster movie of the year!

3 thoughts on “The Butler’s Tale By Charles Eden Westcott – Part 3

  1. Houston you lucky lucky (naughty) girl! Imagine – dining with a butler *gasp* 😉

  2. LOL Heather … butlers are such handy men, they really know their way around the ‘house’ if you know what I mean. BTW, the picture he shows of himself at the end wasn’t him … the real him is sooo much bigger! *wink*

  3. Thank you my dear friend for sharing my … ahum, this tail …ahum, sorry … tale … the memories of you will be forever cherished.

    Love ya’
    Houston

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