Collingsworth (3 page)

Michael stood at the door some time later, overwhelmed with new information. “Michael, remember your promises. You will never speak of this matter outside of this room, and if the opportunity should present itself to speak with Mr. Bennington, you won’t run away.”

*  *  *

Straightening
his bow tie, Michael walked out the door to leave for the ball, mask held in his hand. He had asked if he could be driven in the coach but had been refused, so he set off walking.

Remembering his promise to Dr. Kennedy, he wondered if he would dare to dance with David during this most unusual masked ball. The entire conversation with Dr. Kennedy and Mr. Hardison had been a revelation that shook the foundation of everything Michael had ever been taught. He knew that his life would not be easy, but he finally saw the chance of happiness.

The ballroom had been transformed from the austere site of their practice sessions with the addition of opulent draperies, pine boughs, and golden light from the gas jets and candles. There was a sumptuous dinner set up at one end of the room and this is where the students clustered. The orchestra had begun playing but, perhaps predictably, none of the boys were dancing. Walking over to the tables with the food, Michael felt unusually confident in his mask and new finery.

Although all of the students were wearing their masks, some stood out and were easily identified. Michael picked out Smith by his fiery red curls, Hobbs by his massively protruding belly, and finally Bennington with the light blond waves that he would recognize anywhere. With his own medium brown locks, he felt completely anonymous and moved to stand near David. Before he found the courage to strike up a conversation, the professors walked through the crowd of fifth and sixth years, randomly pairing them up and pushing them toward the dance floor.

Dr. Kennedy appeared at his elbow and, with a hand on his shoulder, pushed him toward David. “Gentlemen, we’re here to practice your dancing. There will be time to eat during the orchestra’s break.” Michael looked back at him to see if there was any sign of recognition in his face or if it was mere coincidence that Dr. Kennedy had paired him with David. Dr. Kennedy had already turned to push another pair onto the floor.

“Well, I believe that we’ll be dancing together tonight. Who will lead, do you think?” David asked, amusement showing in his voice, his full lips quirked into a small smile.

Feeling unusually bold, Michael stepped in to David and placed his left hand on a muscular shoulder and raised his right hand, waiting for his classmate’s left. “You’re a bit taller, you may have the honor.”

“Am I to know who you are?” David moved into position and they moved across the floor.

Michael smiled, “Ah, but that’s what the masks are for. We’ll know who the other is at the unmasking.”

“Fair enough, but I do believe that my hair gives you an advantage. You surely know who I am.” They moved gracefully, their bodies and their abilities well-matched. Michael was determined to relax and enjoy the dance, the unique circumstances of the evening unlikely to be repeated.

“Yes, Bennington, I do. My identity must remain a secret, however. Rules being what they are.” Michael unconsciously moved closer to David.

Rather than push Michael away, David matched his move and they were soon dancing much closer than convention allowed. Michael was able to smell the now familiar scent of macassar oil and shaving soap. “Ah, rules. Are you one to always follow the rules, then?”

Michael realized that they were dancing closer to the dark shadows at the end of the ball room, and knew that if one of them had been a young lady from St. Anne’s they would have been separated and placed under the chaperone’s direct care long ago. “Rules do have their place in polite society, but then the judicious breaking of some rules may make life more interesting.”

“Would you be interested in telling me which rules you would break?” David pressed even closer as they moved behind a wide column and, for the second time in his life, he felt another man’s hardness against his hip. Unlike the last time, however, this was more than welcome, and he felt an answering hardness of his own.

They abandoned any pretense of dancing as David maneuvered Michael until his back was against the column. “I don’t think that would be wise.” Breathless, Michael fought the urge to push himself more tightly against David.

Michael could feel David’s breath against his lips as he moved closer and, anticipating a kiss, moistened his lips. Instead of a kiss, Michael felt David’s cheek against his own and lips graze over his jaw. “Is kissing one of the rules that you might break?”

“I think… I think that it might…” They heard the tap of heels on the marble floor as the music quieted and pulled apart abruptly. By the time the next waltz began, they were dancing a respectable distance apart as the headmaster rounded the column and subtly steered them back to the rest of the couples on the dance floor.

They defied convention and didn’t switch partners, dancing every dance together, occasionally moving behind the column to whisper together. Michael was now well acquainted with David’s neck, his jaw, and had had the barest taste of his lips but hungered for more. He longed to be alone with David, sure now that David returned his desire.

When the orchestra stopped and intermission was announced, David pulled Michael by the hand and led him quickly through a side door. Michael was unfamiliar with the path but trusted his partner to lead in the near darkness. They stopped as they rounded a corner and Michael allowed himself to be pulled into David’s arms, reveling at the novel sensation of another body flush against his own. “Now, my handsome friend, let us discuss rules made to be broken.”

“With this mask, you cannot know that I’m handsome. I, on the other hand, know your beautiful face well.” Michael, suddenly bold, traced David’s lips with his fingertips. “I think discussion of rules must wait.” He pressed his lips to his partner’s and was surprised to feel those lips open against his own. Gasping at the unimagined intimacy, he felt his body respond to the taste of his lover and the touch of his tongue against his.

Their bodies strained together, hands roamed over backs and shoulders, their kiss deepened and Michael heard a moan tear from his own throat. Overwhelmed, Michael pulled back and leaned his forehead against David’s, knocking both of their masks askew. Before he realized what David was doing, he felt the cold air hit his face as his mask was removed. He felt the light touch of fingertips trace his brow, his cheeks, and finally his lips before being pulled into another kiss.

Michael threaded his fingers through the wavy hair that had tempted him for years and found it to be soft as silk, every bit as luscious as he had imagined it to be. Leaving that soft hair, he found his hands moving to trace over David’s body, down his strong back and settling on his waist, afraid to go further.

His partner had no such fear, however, and Michael felt large hands on his backside, pulling him more tightly against David. Michael’s body was on fire, need pulsing through him as they moved together, kissing frantically. Close to spending, he gasped against David’s mouth when he felt a hand reach into his trousers. For the first time in his life, he felt another person touch his hard flesh, tight and warm, a hundred times—a thousand—better than touching himself.

“David!” He pulled away, afraid of embarrassing himself even as he wanted—needed—more.

David didn’t let him go, quickly undoing both of their trousers, freeing their hard pricks to the cold night air. “Touch me. Touch me.” Michael couldn’t ignore the plea and grasped David as their lips met again. The new sensations on his body, the feel of David’s flesh in his hand, and the taste of David’s mouth all worked together to cause him to spill after only a few strokes. Lost in the incredible feeling of his body spending into David’s hand, he was barely aware when David’s release hit his own hand and wrist.

They breathed heavily, leaning together as they kissed and teased with lips and tongues. “That was… it was almost… almost… too much. I’ve never….”

“Oh, my friend, it could be so much more. Come back to my room with me?”

Michael pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned himself before fastening his trousers and straightening his clothes. “I don’t believe… I can’t….” He didn’t know why he was suddenly frightened. His earlier confidence seemed to dissipate into the cold night and he was once again the shy day-student who could never measure up to the beautiful man in front of him. Unable to explain, he pulled away from David’s arms and ran up the path, turning not in the direction of the ball room, but toward the village and his own house.

The experience with David was more than he ever hoped it could be and he couldn’t wait to repeat it. This thought brought him up short and he stood still at the side of the road, realizing that he had never told David who he was. For Michael, the evening had been the culmination of six years of admiration, but for David it was no more than the furtive meetings in empty classrooms that Michael had always avoided. He had dared to hope, after Dr. Kennedy’s revelation, that there would be happiness in his future, but he knew now that it was not to be. The feeling of release in another’s arms was magnificent, but he recognized that it was not in his nature to repeat the experience without love or affection.

*  *  *

The
weekend was spent in his room, refusing meals, neither expecting nor receiving a visit from any of his family, his eyes red from the tears shed in mourning for the life that he would never have.

Out of habit more than any sense of responsibility, he went to school on Monday morning and sat, as usual, in the back of the hall. His fellow students were in high spirits, talking about Christmas plans with their families and arranging visits over the holiday break. He picked at a loose thread on his frayed trousers and focused on his lap as he listened to the usual prayers and announcements. Afraid to see David, he remained seated as the hall emptied, only standing when the last footstep faded. Shuffling to the door, he was so deep in his own sorrow that he didn’t notice the first year with the note until he bumped into him.

The note, predictably, was from Dr. Kennedy and asked him to present himself at the headmaster’s office immediately. No longer able to find it in himself to worry about being accused of a crime or being expelled, he shuffled to the headmaster’s office. When he was led into the office, he found the headmaster, Dr. Kennedy and a well-dressed man sitting at the conference table at the side of the office.

“Mr. Taylor, please have a seat. I’m sorry to pull you from your classes, but we have an important matter to discuss.” The headmaster spoke calmly. Dr. Kennedy smiled slightly as Michael sat at the table. The other man, who sat with a thick file in front of him, said nothing but looked at Michael kindly. The headmaster continued, “This is Mr. Eaton, Esquire. Dr. Kennedy contacted him on your behalf several months ago. I understand that Dr. Kennedy hasn’t shared any of his correspondence with Mr. Eaton at this point.”

“No, sir.” Michael was growing curious, despite his melancholy.

Mr. Eaton opened the file and shuffled papers before beginning to speak. “Mr. Taylor, do you remember your childhood? Where you lived? Did you ever speak about business with your father?

After a pause to adjust to the topic and order his thoughts, Michael answered, “I remember happy times with my parents, living in Boston in a large house. I don’t remember ever speaking with my father about business.”

Mr. Eaton wrote something briefly on a pad at his elbow before asking his next question. “What do you remember about the time after your parents’ death?”

“Very little. I remember their funeral and my mother’s cousin coming to the house to pack my things, then the drive here. The next school term I was enrolled in Collingsworth as a day-student.” Michael was growing impatient with the questioning about a very painful period in his life. “If I may ask, what is this about, sir?”

“To put it simply, Mr. Taylor, your parents were very wealthy, and you were their only heir,” Mr. Eaton said.

“I don’t believe that is correct. My mother’s cousin inherited, and they’ve allowed me to live with them while attending Collingsworth.” Michael was ready to leave and get on with his last days of the term and put Collingsworth behind him for several weeks.

“It is indeed correct, Mr. Taylor. I’ve been researching for several months and believe that we now have all of the information at hand. You
are
your parents’ heir, and the house in Boston, as well as the house in Collingsworth, belong to you. Your mother’s cousin was appointed as your guardian and the administrator of the estate. Everything passes to you on your twenty-first birthday. You are a very wealthy young man.”

Dumbfounded, Michael didn’t know where to start, what questions to ask, what to think. “But they’ve been letting me live there. I’m on scholarship here!”

“It appears that your mother’s cousin has appropriated everything in your name and has been using your very generous allowance for the family’s own purposes. With your permission, I’ll contact the police on your behalf, and the family will be out of your house before the end of the day.” Mr. Eaton closed the file and waited for Michael’s response.

Looking at Dr. Kennedy for the first time since the lawyer had begun speaking, Michael asked, “Would it be possible to speak with you privately, sir?” The headmaster and Mr. Eaton left, allowing them the use of the office.

 “This is all such a shock. I’ve been the poor cousin receiving charity for six years, and I can’t quite believe that it’s not the way it was supposed to be. I’m not sure what to do.”

Dr. Kennedy was quiet for a few minutes before speaking. “I believe that the police should be told. Your cousin has deprived you of so much. At the very least, Michael, this will change your future. You will be able to go to any university that you please, be anything that you would like.”

After a long morning talking to the police, Michael rode in Mr. Eaton’s coach to what he had so recently learned was
his
house. Mr. Eaton had been named as temporary administrator of the estate by the magistrate until a formal hearing could be held, and the police would arrive shortly to evict the family. Michael would have preferred to avoid the scene that was sure to follow but had allowed Mr. Eaton to convince him that it would be better for him to be there.