"The really unexpected affair"~ Chapter 10

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Linka to: Chapter 1. Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9



Cavendish, after knocking, entered Illya’s bedroom carrying with him a serving tray.

“Sir your dinner.”

Illya hiked himself up in bed, thinking that was an awfully large tray for merely broth.

The butler set it on Illya’s lap, being supported by four legs and he removed the cover from the dish.

Mrs. Dunphy had sent up two filet mignons, and asparagus with hollandaise sauce. There was a small bowl of broth...following doctor’s orders he suspected.

Thankfully the sort of dessert he’d hoped for was on the tray as well. It was a Black Forest gateau with whipped cream and a layer of cherries. Now this was a decadence he could let slide...

He was glad he’d apologized to the woman.

Cavendish poured a glass of water from a pitcher, placing it on the tray with the meal.

“Apologies sir, but Mr. Solo gave explicit orders for no alcohol of any kind,” he winked “but I might have gotten things muddled up a bit. I do apologize.”

Illya shrugged, as he wasn’t in any sort of position to argue nor did he quite understand to what the man was alluding.

The pain medication was still in his system, but not for long, but having a drink was the last thing on Illya’s mind at the moment.

“Cavendish, please be sure to thank Mrs. Dunphy for me.

“Will that be all sir?”

“Yes thank you.” Illya lifted his glass, taking a sip from it, coughing as he discovered it wasn’t water at all. Vodka. Cavendish had slipped him vodka.”

“Are you all right sir?”

“I am now Mr. Cavendish, thank you very much.”

“My pleasure sir. Nothing like a wee nip to help you when you’re ailing.” The butler nodded mischievously and closed the door after himself.

Napoleon arrived a short while later, seeing the food tray put aside on the bed.  He saw enough to know Illya hadn’t had only broth for dinner.  The man had a cast iron stomach, so it was no surprise.

“I see your appetite is up to par tovarisch.”

“So will the rest of me tomorrow after a good night’s rest.”

“Yeah about that...I think you need to sit this one out for now. You’re not going to be of much use not being able to walk, much less run.”

“Nyet, I am not sitting this one out Napoleon. I will be ready tomorrow morning whether you like it or not.”

Napoleon shook his head, knowing that when the Russian made up his mind, it couldn’t be changed.

“All right tovarisch, don’t...get your knickers in a twist.”

That very British idiom being used by the very American Solo made Illya laugh, though he held his side where it had been stitched.

“I had to tell Maude a bit about what’s going on; she was getting suspicious. She had a feeling there was something you weren’t telling her about your spill. Really, that’s more like the Maude we know.”

“What exactly did you say to her?”

“That we’re here to investigate the disappearance of the local children, and as per her Uncle...she’s not to become involved.”

“Easier said than done, if she is acting more like her tenacious self,” Illya crossed his arms in front of his chest, but reached out, holding a hand up to halt his partner who had just reached for the pitcher of water.

“Stoi! I would not touch that if I were you.”

“What’s wrong? Poison?”

“No, vodka. Apparently Cavendish’s way of looking out for me.”

“Peachy. Cavendish did it in spite of me asking him not to.”

“What can I say,” Illya shrugged,”I have that sort of effect on people...they just want to mother me. Speaking of which, anything further from Mrs. Dunphy?”

“No, I think she’s backed off on her infatuation with you. You're tirade may have broken her heart.”

“I seriously doubt that. So now what is the plan?”

“There’s a building north of town where the children are being held and it’s time I check it out. “

Illya canted his head to one side, apparently missing Solo’s use of the personal pronoun referring to himself. “Maude will most likely try to become involved will she not?”

“I made her promise not to but I have my doubts she’s going to keep her word in this matter. So I think it’s going to be up to you to distract her. I need you to over do the part of the suffering patient. Ask her to keep you company in your fevered pain, have her read to you...anything to keep her here and occupied.”

Illya’s jutting chin and flared nostrils told Napoleon his partner wasn’t happy about that, though his reaction wasn’t surprising.

“You are not leaving me here to babysit Maude. I am fine and perfectly capable of coming along.”

“Yeah right.”

“Well I am.”

“Fine!” Napoleon huffed. “Get a good night’s sleep and lay off the booze...better to take your pain meds. If you’re going to be of any use to me tomorrow I need you to be able to function.”

“Yes mother. Good night Napoleon.”

Solo picked up the pitcher and took it with him just in cast, chuckling to himself that he was guilty of mothering the Russian himself at times.

“Good night Illya.”

Solo left his partner to his own devices, returning to his room. Cavendish had provided him with a decanter of single malt scotch...the good kind, and Solo helped himself to a night cap before changing for bed.

He hated like hell to push Illya away on this one; he could really use him but with a bum ankle it was going to be doubtful his partner would be of much use.

Cavendish had already pulled down the bedcovers and laid out Solo’s pajamas. In this case he didn’t mind anyone touching his things but usually he’d be instantly suspicious.  He backpedaled on that thought and walked around his room rechecking for bugs, but found nothing.That removed any further suspicions about the butler.

He mused to himself, climbing into bed, wondering what it would be like to have a gentleman’s gentleman...maybe once he retired and done some investing with his pension?

Life beginning anew at forty couldn’t be that bad; he would be out of the field and a member of Section I if he was reading the signs right. There were rumors he was being groomed as Alexander Waverly’s replacement, whenever that day came, though the Old Man hadn’t broached the subject with him. That was one topic he daren’t bring up...it was a case of speak when spoken to and not before.

Still a manservant...who was he kidding? That was a life that just wasn’t meant to be for him. The most he could hope for was live to retirement age and get an honest job, whatever that was? There was no guarantee he’d be offered a position in Section I or live long enough to accept it.

Napoleon laughed at himself as he snuggled under the covers. He was starting to sound like Illya, a little bit too much on fatalistic side.

“Hanging around too much with a certain Russian,” he chuckled before closing his eyes and settling down for the night.

Chapter 11