"The really unexpected affair"~ chapter 4

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3


Napoleon and Illya returned downstairs and were shown to the drawing room by Cavendish. Maude was there, having a glass of sherry, and offered the boys drinks but both men declined.

“How about a tour of the house, and Illya if you're good we can head down to the stables later on so I can introduce you to the horses.”

“Sounds good to me,”Napoleon replied.

“And to me as well,”Illya added, though the two agents had some ulterior motives regarding Kuryakin and the horses. They needed to come up with a plausible excuse to stay for more than just a few days; Maude wouldn’t care, where as husband might.

The house was filled with unimaginable antiques, oil paintings as well as magnificent tapestries that looked quite old, but were in fabulous condition. At the end of the tour they ended up in the conservatory and in it a grand piano, replete with a sterling silver candelabra sitting atop it.

“Do you play Maude,” Illya asked.

“No, neither does Charles. I’m not quite sure why we have it as none of our other acquaintences can play either. Do either of you ?”

“As a matter of fact he does,”Napoleon answered.” tovarisch, care to give her a little demonstration?”

“Only if Maude wishes.”

“Oh yes please? It would be wonderful to hear. It’s in tune I’m sure, Charles would never let anything like that happen. He has it tuned every month, like clockwork. The most my husband will do is tickle a few of the keys when he walks in here, shame to let such a beautiful instrument stay silent.”

Upon hearing that both agents flashed a quick look at each other.

“Please Illya, play something for me?”

He sat at the piano bench, stretching his hands; he paused with his fingers above the keys for a moment while he composed himself.

It was a very recognizable melody, Debussy’s Moonlight Sonata, one of Kuryakin’s favorites. Illya seemed to lose himself in the piece as he played, before finally ending it.

Maude applauded enthusiastically. “Illya you’re amazing! I had no idea you could play so beautifully.”

“It is one of a few things I have picked up over the years,” he gave her the barest of smiles.

“Perhaps you could play for us tonight after dinner. I have a few guests coming by...some lovely ladies, and no I didn’t arrange it ahead of time Napoleon. They’re just a few friends who wish to welcome me home.”

“It’s good to know you have them,”Napoleon said,” seeing as how your welcome in the village has seemed to have cooled.”

“Yes it is odd, but then again it could be cultural memory coming out? The common folk keeping their distance from the upper class so to speak. I haven’t done anything to make them think I’m a snob. I just don’t know what I could have happened to make them withdraw like that.”

After seeing the rest of the house Maude made good on her promise to take Illya down to the stables while Napoleon remailed behind, feigning a headache.

What he really wanted to do was was get a better look around the drawing room. What Maude had said about her husband playing a few keys, struck a chord with him, no pun intended.

.

“Well here he is Illya,” Maude announced, stopping in front of a particular stall.

Inside stood a bright-eyed chestnut horse, its ears facing forward, alert to the visitors standing in front of it.

The name on the placard read ‘Cossack Sun.”

‘An interesting title for a horse,” Illya said.

“He was bred for racing, though Charles has chosen to use him for stud instead. He’s gorgeous isn’t he?

Illya held out his hand, letting the horse nuzzle it before petting him.

“Now that’s surprising. Sunny doesn’t let just anyone touch him.”

“Sunny?”

“That’s the nickname I gave him. It sounds so much happier than Cossack Sun, and less of a mouthful.”

“May I try riding him tomorrow?”

“Are you sure you’d like to do that? He’s a bit on the wild side.”

“I am an experienced horseman, and have ridden a number of such wild Cossack horses back in Soviet Union.”

.

As soon as Maude and Illya left Solo had started his search, looking for what he suspected might be the entrance to a secret passage perhaps. Old places such as Kensington Manor always had them, but for what purpose Charles might have made use of one; that remained to be seen.

Not knowing which keys on the piano to play would make it impossible to open said secret door, but there had to be signs there was one here somewhere.

He walked the perimeter of the room, checking bookcases, tipping some books thinking that might activate a switch. Napoleon looked at the furnishings, feeling around as much as he dared.

It wasn’t until he came to the fireplace that he noticed some very light scratches on the hardwood floor, forming a slightly rounded pattern as if one side of the mantle swung outwards.

Just for good measure, he checked all around it ...the trim, moulding, even the pokers, but found nothing.

“May I help you sir?” Cavendish said; his voice coming from behind Napoleon.

Solo straightened up, silently berating himself for not hearing the man’s approach.

“No thank you Cavendish, I was just admiring the mantle. My grandfather used to make them and I’ve always had an affinity for the old ones. This one is particularly beautiful.”

“Aye sir. May I git ye anything, a drink perhaps?”

“A scotch on the rocks would be good.”

“Och, on the rocks sir?”

“On second thought, I’ll have single malt with water on the side.”

“Yes sir,” Cavendish bowed his head, hiding a bit of a smile.

Maude and Illya returned shortly from the stables, finding Solo still in the drawing room, sipping his whiskey.

“How are you feeling, a bit better?” She asked?”

“Yes much, this single malt is outstanding and doing me wonders,” he raised the glass to her.

“Good, there’s plenty more where that came from. It’s Balvenie and quite pricey from what I understand. That’s all that Charles keeps in his bar...I don’t drink of course. I never developed a taste for alcohol.”

“Balvenie?  No wonder it’s fantastic. It however, is a bit out of my range on my salary.”

“Well Uncle Alex should give you a raise.”

“Maude,” he laughed,” your Uncle is a Scotsman at heart, but I don’t think he’d even consider a raise for me to buy buy even one bottle.”

“I knew it was expensive but I didn’t think it was that much. Well anyway, it’s time for me to get ready for dinner. It’s served promptly at seven, so you’ll have more time to relax. We dress for dinner here and if you don’t have anything appropriate then Cavendish can help you.  Charles keeps a wardrobe just for such needs, for his guests that is.”

“Do you entertain a lot?”

“Me, no. Charles does, usually with business associates. I dine with them and afterwards they come here to the drawing room to smoke their awful cigars. It’s all hush hush this male bonding thing, behind closed doors. You don’t smoke do either of you, by the way?”

“Only cigarettes from time to time,” Illya answered,”but now is not the time.”

Maude gave him one of those ‘stop being a smart aleck’ looks before retiring to her room.

Napoleon and Illya retreated upstairs to discuss their next move.

The Russian threw himself on his partner’s bed, making himself comfortable.

“So tovarisch did you enjoy playing with the horsies?”

“Not as much as I would have liked to. Maude was exact in her description of the the Don stallion; he is quite lively to say the least.”

“Too lively to ride?”

“Do not be ridiculous. A Cossack horse in the right hands is a thing of beauty.”

“And you’re saying your hands are the right ones.”

“But of course,”Illya nodded, giving his partner a knowing smile.

“So tomorrow then?”

“Yes, I plan to do it after breakfast.”

“Well be careful. I don’t want you laid up for real.”

“Napoleon I know what I am doing.”

Solo raised his hands, cautioning his partner. “I know, but that doesn’t mean I can’t worry about you.”

“Awww that is so sweet,” Illya snickered.” Do not worry mother, I will show the utmost caution. Now if you will excuse me, I am going to take a nap before dinner.”

“Should I ask Cavendish to get some clothes for you?”

“What is wrong with my black suit? I can wear my white shirt and tie, that should be suitable.”

“Illya I think she meant something more in the line of a dinner jacket and so forth.”

The Russian huffed. “Fine, you know my size. Let Cavendish select something apropos then.”

Napoleon shook his head as Illya’s disdain for things of culture never ceased to amaze. Granted, Kuryakin had his own tuxedo with that awful ruffled shirt, so he acknowledged the need dress up at times.

Their previous assignment hadn’t called for any such clothing, so the offer made by Maude was convenient, to say the least.

Thanks to Cavendish, they were both fitted with appropriately tailor dinner jackets replete with dress shirts, pants, and even bow ties.

“She wasn’t kidding about what her husband keeps for outfitting his guests. You should have seen the wardrobe Illya; it was filled with expensive clothes in every imaginable size.  There were enough suits in there for a man not to wear the same one twice in half a year.”

“As I said,” Illya fussed with his tie.” Bourgeois and way beyond his financial means….Napoleon will you help me with this thing? I can never get bow ties straight.”

Solo tied it again for his partner until he was satisfied, then checking his own tie in the mirror before they left the room and descended the stairs for drinks in the drawing room before dinner was served.


To be continued...