Post by MissRedhead on Feb 25, 2009 14:01:56 GMT -8
Tennyson poured coffee into a cup and silently counted down the seconds. Three, two…
“Tennyson!!!!!!! Where’s my coffee?!”
“Coming, sir!” Tennyson answered toward the back of the train and he set Gordon’s teacup down on a spot of the table that wasn’t covered in maps.
Gordon’s attention never wavered from his maps and he continued to mutter to himself and jab at the map in front of him. His hand, seemingly with a mind of its own, picked up the teacup and bought it up to his mouth.
Tennyson continued on toward West’s quarters. West was rubbing his eyes as he combed order to his hair.
“Your coffee, sir.” Tennyson carefully deposited the coffee cup on the sideboard.
West grunted some sort of answer and stopped grooming himself to swallow a mouthful of the coveted coffee. With a contented sigh, West dismissed his manservant and went back to dressing for the day.
Tennyson went back to the kitchen, passing Mr. Gordon who was now attempting to drink his tea and keep the map from rolling up with his free hand.
Tennyson once again wondered why he had come to the States when he could have easily secured a position on the staff of any of the nobles of England. As he prepared eggs and toast for the breakfast of his “charges” as he called secretly them, his mind replayed pieces of events that led to him being in this position. Getting off the ship and stepping onto States’ soil. Traveling to the Washington area in search of employment to any of the major families of the States. Answering an ad for the United States Secret Service concerning his talents. Finding out that he was not to be waiting on the head of the Secret Service in a fine Washington home or office, but instead being assigned to the two best agents the Secret Service had and finding out that these two “gentlemen” were devilish, frustrating, and as different from each other as day from night.
“Hey, watch it Jim!”
“Come on Artie, make a little room so we can eat, will you?”
Tennyson rolled his eyes. Really, those two could be as bad as children sometimes and sometimes, like now, he thought the Secret Service should have advertised for a nanny instead of a butler. Tennyson set West’s breakfast down in front of the slowly awakening agent. He then set Gordon’s breakfast down as best he could around the still spread out maps.
“Careful with the maps Tennyson,” Gordon said absently as he focused on one area of the map directly in front of him.
“Of course, sir.”
Tennyson headed back into the tiny kitchen and ran over the list of things to do for the day as he washed up the pans from breakfast. Pick up Misters West’s and Gordon’s suits from the launders. Restock the groceries. Have hay bought to the stable car for the agents’ horses. Get fresh herbs and spices from the local apothecary, that Mr. Gordon had been bemoaning the lack of for the past week. Restock several “ingredients” in Mr. Gordon’s lab. Pick up Mr. West’s two new shirts from the tailor. Pick up the latest newspaper. Cook dinner, although only heaven knew whether both, one or neither agent would be around to eat it.
The closing door to the parlor car told Tennyson that the agents had left for the day, so he gathered up and washed the last of the dishes. Finally done with the morning chores, Tennyson donned his coat and hat to make his rounds about town.
~~~~~~~~~~
Tennyson ticked off “hay” from his list and started towards the apothecary. He rounded the corner from the stables and slammed right into a mountain of a man.
“Oh excuse me, my good man,” Tennyson said as he stepped back and adjusted his hat. He went to take a step around the fellow when he was halted by a large hand planted in the middle of his chest. Tennyson glanced up at the large fellow blocking his way.
“Hey, ain’t you the servant to them fancy agents?”
This is not good, Tennyson thought as he tried to figure out a way to slip past the ogre in front of him. “You must have me confused with someone else, you see, my employer…”
“Hey Amos, look who I found!”
Another large man, meaner and smarter looking than the one with an iron grip on his arm, appeared in front of Tennyson. “Well, looky who we have here. The manservant to the secret agents who are trying to put us out of business. You’ll be useful to us in our… negotiations. “Tie him up and bring him along, Jesse.”
The next thing Tennyson knew, he was bound, gagged, and thrown over the back of a horse like a sack of potatoes. He’d better get hazardous duty pay for this, Tennyson thought as he tried not to become sick down the backside of the horse.
~~~~~~~~~~
Consciousness crashed down upon Tennyson and he found himself being violently shaken by a brute. His eyes had a difficult time adjusting to the sudden light from a lantern being held not too far from his face
“That’s enough Jesse, the slave is awake.”
Despite the large headache in the back of his head, Tennyson found it in him to be extremely affronted. “I object to being called a slave,” he answered in his quite prominent British accent. “I am paid for my services.” Though that pay should definitely be higher for putting up with this, he thought.
Amos laughed heartily, “well then, we’ll see how much you are worth. We sent a note to your masters to bring them to us on our terms and our territory.”
“Employers,” Tennyson said with as much dignity as he could muster while sitting on the ground with his hands tied around a pole behind him.
“Hey Amos,” Jesse spoke up from somewhere behind the captured manservant, “what if they don’t come to get ‘im?”
“Well then we’ll just have to get rid of him then, won’t we,” Amos leaned forward toward his prize with a nasty smile on his face.
“N-now really sir! I am sure we can come to some sort of deal. I really wasn’t paid well to begin with for my services.” If only these fellows would get rid of these bonds, Tennyson thought.
“Good, good, then you won’t mind not getting paid at all then and work instead, to stay alive. Jesse, gag him. That accent of his is really starting to annoy me.”
“Sure thing Amos,” Jesse said and roughly gagged the protesting manservant then followed Amos up the stairs and closed the cellar doors behind him.
~~~~~~~~~~
Tennyson wasn’t sure how much time passed, but he was certainly getting tired of sitting in a cold, dank and dark cellar. Once more he struggled with the bonds but didn’t make any progress. He at least was able to get the offending gag around his neck as opposed to it digging cuts in the corners of his mouth. Suddenly a lot of commotion broke out in the house above him. The cellar doors were flung open and instead of Amos or Jesse, Mister Gordon was hurrying down the stairs.
“I am certainly glad to see you, sir,” Tennyson said as Gordon hurriedly cut through the ropes that bound the manservant’s hands.
Above them, the scuffle continued until a shot rang out. Gordon’s eyes shifted upwards for a brief moment and he muttered a barely audible curse under his breath. Gordon finally cut the last threads of the ropes then ran for the stairs as soon as the manservant was free.
Tennyson rubbed his sore wrists. Another shot was fired and the commotion upstairs continued. He recalled faintly hearing something about the plates being safe with the ale. There were several kegs sitting in a corner, may as well check them out while he was down here anyway. Tennyson knocked on three of the five kegs then came to one with a hollow sound and feel to it. He looked around and spotted a crowbar, which he then used to pry the lid off of the hollow sounding keg. Ah, in the bottom was a cloth wrapped package. The manservant retrieved the packet and opened a fold of cloth to reveal two printing plates. He smiled to himself and in another minute it was quiet upstairs.
Tennyson ascended the wooden staircase and climbed out of the cellar and into the house. He glanced around and saw Amos and Jesse along with three other men sprawled unconscious across the floor.
Tennyson put the package under his arm and mimed applause, “bravo, sirs.”
West was wincing and holding his right shoulder and was a tad pale while Gordon sat on the floor cringing and rubbed his left ankle. The two agents looked at the manservant then each other and rolled their eyes.
Tennyson bought his package over to the two Secret Service agents and unfolded the cloth. “You’ll be happy to know gentlemen that we have the plates, and I do believe the printing press is in the barn.
~~~~~~~~~~~
James West sat in one corner of the settee with his right arm in a sling and in the other corner of the settee sat his partner, Artemus Gordon, with his wrapped ankle propped up on a decorative ottoman. The two men wore a look of intense boredom on their faces and occasionally one glanced at the manservant and then in the other’s direction with a look of pitiful misery.
Tennyson straightened his jacket, donned his hat and cradled a bouquet of flowers in his left arm. “Gentlemen, do try not to find anymore trouble tonight,” he smiled. “Cheery bye!” The manservant exited the parlor car to the waiting carriage with a smile of expectation and a sparkle in his eyes.
“Tennyson!!!!!!! Where’s my coffee?!”
“Coming, sir!” Tennyson answered toward the back of the train and he set Gordon’s teacup down on a spot of the table that wasn’t covered in maps.
Gordon’s attention never wavered from his maps and he continued to mutter to himself and jab at the map in front of him. His hand, seemingly with a mind of its own, picked up the teacup and bought it up to his mouth.
Tennyson continued on toward West’s quarters. West was rubbing his eyes as he combed order to his hair.
“Your coffee, sir.” Tennyson carefully deposited the coffee cup on the sideboard.
West grunted some sort of answer and stopped grooming himself to swallow a mouthful of the coveted coffee. With a contented sigh, West dismissed his manservant and went back to dressing for the day.
Tennyson went back to the kitchen, passing Mr. Gordon who was now attempting to drink his tea and keep the map from rolling up with his free hand.
Tennyson once again wondered why he had come to the States when he could have easily secured a position on the staff of any of the nobles of England. As he prepared eggs and toast for the breakfast of his “charges” as he called secretly them, his mind replayed pieces of events that led to him being in this position. Getting off the ship and stepping onto States’ soil. Traveling to the Washington area in search of employment to any of the major families of the States. Answering an ad for the United States Secret Service concerning his talents. Finding out that he was not to be waiting on the head of the Secret Service in a fine Washington home or office, but instead being assigned to the two best agents the Secret Service had and finding out that these two “gentlemen” were devilish, frustrating, and as different from each other as day from night.
“Hey, watch it Jim!”
“Come on Artie, make a little room so we can eat, will you?”
Tennyson rolled his eyes. Really, those two could be as bad as children sometimes and sometimes, like now, he thought the Secret Service should have advertised for a nanny instead of a butler. Tennyson set West’s breakfast down in front of the slowly awakening agent. He then set Gordon’s breakfast down as best he could around the still spread out maps.
“Careful with the maps Tennyson,” Gordon said absently as he focused on one area of the map directly in front of him.
“Of course, sir.”
Tennyson headed back into the tiny kitchen and ran over the list of things to do for the day as he washed up the pans from breakfast. Pick up Misters West’s and Gordon’s suits from the launders. Restock the groceries. Have hay bought to the stable car for the agents’ horses. Get fresh herbs and spices from the local apothecary, that Mr. Gordon had been bemoaning the lack of for the past week. Restock several “ingredients” in Mr. Gordon’s lab. Pick up Mr. West’s two new shirts from the tailor. Pick up the latest newspaper. Cook dinner, although only heaven knew whether both, one or neither agent would be around to eat it.
The closing door to the parlor car told Tennyson that the agents had left for the day, so he gathered up and washed the last of the dishes. Finally done with the morning chores, Tennyson donned his coat and hat to make his rounds about town.
~~~~~~~~~~
Tennyson ticked off “hay” from his list and started towards the apothecary. He rounded the corner from the stables and slammed right into a mountain of a man.
“Oh excuse me, my good man,” Tennyson said as he stepped back and adjusted his hat. He went to take a step around the fellow when he was halted by a large hand planted in the middle of his chest. Tennyson glanced up at the large fellow blocking his way.
“Hey, ain’t you the servant to them fancy agents?”
This is not good, Tennyson thought as he tried to figure out a way to slip past the ogre in front of him. “You must have me confused with someone else, you see, my employer…”
“Hey Amos, look who I found!”
Another large man, meaner and smarter looking than the one with an iron grip on his arm, appeared in front of Tennyson. “Well, looky who we have here. The manservant to the secret agents who are trying to put us out of business. You’ll be useful to us in our… negotiations. “Tie him up and bring him along, Jesse.”
The next thing Tennyson knew, he was bound, gagged, and thrown over the back of a horse like a sack of potatoes. He’d better get hazardous duty pay for this, Tennyson thought as he tried not to become sick down the backside of the horse.
~~~~~~~~~~
Consciousness crashed down upon Tennyson and he found himself being violently shaken by a brute. His eyes had a difficult time adjusting to the sudden light from a lantern being held not too far from his face
“That’s enough Jesse, the slave is awake.”
Despite the large headache in the back of his head, Tennyson found it in him to be extremely affronted. “I object to being called a slave,” he answered in his quite prominent British accent. “I am paid for my services.” Though that pay should definitely be higher for putting up with this, he thought.
Amos laughed heartily, “well then, we’ll see how much you are worth. We sent a note to your masters to bring them to us on our terms and our territory.”
“Employers,” Tennyson said with as much dignity as he could muster while sitting on the ground with his hands tied around a pole behind him.
“Hey Amos,” Jesse spoke up from somewhere behind the captured manservant, “what if they don’t come to get ‘im?”
“Well then we’ll just have to get rid of him then, won’t we,” Amos leaned forward toward his prize with a nasty smile on his face.
“N-now really sir! I am sure we can come to some sort of deal. I really wasn’t paid well to begin with for my services.” If only these fellows would get rid of these bonds, Tennyson thought.
“Good, good, then you won’t mind not getting paid at all then and work instead, to stay alive. Jesse, gag him. That accent of his is really starting to annoy me.”
“Sure thing Amos,” Jesse said and roughly gagged the protesting manservant then followed Amos up the stairs and closed the cellar doors behind him.
~~~~~~~~~~
Tennyson wasn’t sure how much time passed, but he was certainly getting tired of sitting in a cold, dank and dark cellar. Once more he struggled with the bonds but didn’t make any progress. He at least was able to get the offending gag around his neck as opposed to it digging cuts in the corners of his mouth. Suddenly a lot of commotion broke out in the house above him. The cellar doors were flung open and instead of Amos or Jesse, Mister Gordon was hurrying down the stairs.
“I am certainly glad to see you, sir,” Tennyson said as Gordon hurriedly cut through the ropes that bound the manservant’s hands.
Above them, the scuffle continued until a shot rang out. Gordon’s eyes shifted upwards for a brief moment and he muttered a barely audible curse under his breath. Gordon finally cut the last threads of the ropes then ran for the stairs as soon as the manservant was free.
Tennyson rubbed his sore wrists. Another shot was fired and the commotion upstairs continued. He recalled faintly hearing something about the plates being safe with the ale. There were several kegs sitting in a corner, may as well check them out while he was down here anyway. Tennyson knocked on three of the five kegs then came to one with a hollow sound and feel to it. He looked around and spotted a crowbar, which he then used to pry the lid off of the hollow sounding keg. Ah, in the bottom was a cloth wrapped package. The manservant retrieved the packet and opened a fold of cloth to reveal two printing plates. He smiled to himself and in another minute it was quiet upstairs.
Tennyson ascended the wooden staircase and climbed out of the cellar and into the house. He glanced around and saw Amos and Jesse along with three other men sprawled unconscious across the floor.
Tennyson put the package under his arm and mimed applause, “bravo, sirs.”
West was wincing and holding his right shoulder and was a tad pale while Gordon sat on the floor cringing and rubbed his left ankle. The two agents looked at the manservant then each other and rolled their eyes.
Tennyson bought his package over to the two Secret Service agents and unfolded the cloth. “You’ll be happy to know gentlemen that we have the plates, and I do believe the printing press is in the barn.
~~~~~~~~~~~
James West sat in one corner of the settee with his right arm in a sling and in the other corner of the settee sat his partner, Artemus Gordon, with his wrapped ankle propped up on a decorative ottoman. The two men wore a look of intense boredom on their faces and occasionally one glanced at the manservant and then in the other’s direction with a look of pitiful misery.
Tennyson straightened his jacket, donned his hat and cradled a bouquet of flowers in his left arm. “Gentlemen, do try not to find anymore trouble tonight,” he smiled. “Cheery bye!” The manservant exited the parlor car to the waiting carriage with a smile of expectation and a sparkle in his eyes.