Master and Commander - 20. Chapter 20

January 21, 1795

“The King asks about you almost every time I see him,” the Earl said as they headed to St. James Palace.

“That's very thoughtful of him,” Granger said, knowing it was significantly more important than that.

“And you have never been presented?” the Earl said to Calvert.

“No my lord,” he said nervously.

“Well you should relax,” the Earl said. “It's quite short. Besides, every man should have a chance to meet his sovereign.” They drove up to the entrance and followed the Earl out of the carriage and into the palace. As always the chamberlain inspected them and announced them, and as always the other people there pretended not to notice they had arrived.

The Earl guided them through the other attendees to the throne and approached the King, bowing low. Granger and Calvert simply followed his example. The King nodded to the Earl. They had their conversations in private.

“We are pleased to see you back Commander,” the King said to Granger.

“I am pleased to be back, Your Majesty,” Granger said.

“We have been reading of your exploits. You have done well Commander,” the King said.

“Such kind words from Your Majesty are more valuable than gold,” Granger said. “May I present my First Lieutenant, Francis Calvert?”

“You may,” he said. Calvert bowed low again to the King. “We are glad to see you as well Lieutenant Calvert.”

“Th...thank you Your Majesty,” Calvert said nervously. Then they backed away from the throne and mingled with the crowd. Calvert stuck to Granger like glue, much as Travers had the first time. They were just about to leave when Granger spotted Spencer talking to Lord Hood. Granger approached them, not wanting to interrupt, but wanting to pay his respects.

“Well well well,” Hood said. “Look who we have here. Granger.”

“It is good to see you too my lord,” Granger said in the playful way he'd always used to get Hood in a good mood.

“Humph. I thought Chatham had sent this troublemaker far away, Spencer,” Hood said.

“He did, but like a bad penny the man keeps turning up,” Spencer jested back.

“I merely follow orders my lords,” Granger said. “Have you met my First Lieutenant, Francis Calvert?”

“Nice to meet you Calvert,” Spencer said. “Weren't you almost transferred to the Rattlesnake?”

“Yes my lord, but we had an outbreak of fever on board and I was unable to leave Intrepid,” Calvert said.

“Yet the fever turned out to be a false alarm,” Spencer pointed out. “That was most convenient.”

“We were lucky, my lord,” Granger said, interjecting himself in the conversation.

“You usually are,” Hood growled. “So where are you sending him now Spencer?”

“The West Indies, as soon as the Dutch indicate whether we're at war or not,” Spencer said.

“That should get rid of you for a while Granger,” Hood said.

“But then you will miss me my lord,” Granger said, and saw Spencer chuckle a bit.

A man dressed quite ornately moved purposefully toward them. “Ambassador del Campo,” Spencer said, bowing slightly.

“My lord,” the Spaniard said.

“Allow me to present Commander George Granger and his Lieutenant, Francis Calvert, Your Excellency,” Spencer said.

“I have been hoping to meet you, Commander Granger,” del Campo said.

“I am most glad to meet you as well, Your Excellency,” Granger said. “I must thank you for calling on my wife yesterday. She was flattered that Your Excellency would take the time to do so.”

“Taking time to see a charming lady is not a chore,” he said with typical Spanish charm. “His Most Catholic Majesty is most appreciative of your gallant actions off Tenerife. He has chosen to present you with the order of Charles III, and I have requested that your government allow you to receive it. They have agreed without too much trouble,” he said with a glance at Spencer.

Granger was stunned. A Spanish Order? “I do not know what to say beyond thank you, Your Excellency.” He stared at Spencer, hiding the irritation he felt. He thought Spencer could have prepared him for this, but put it aside. No good would come of being angry at the First Lord.

“There is an investiture ceremony,” he said. “I will send you an invitation to call on me at my residence and we will present you with the honor.”

“I am at Your Excellency's disposal, so long as I am in London,” Granger said cautiously.

“I will arrange it in the next day or so,” he said, then bowed and took his leave.

“My lord?” Granger asked Spencer.

“The King of Spain wants to say thank you Granger. Humor him. I suspect that at the end of the day you'll have a fancy medal to wear. Don't expect anyone to start calling you Sir George though.”

“No my lord,” Granger said smiling.

“Lucky for you the Dutch don't have one, otherwise you'll end up looking a bit ostentatious,” Hood said.

“That's true my lord, although I rather think they'd make me look handsome, don't you?” Granger joked.

“Bah,” Hood said. “I'll take my leave of you gentlemen. It was good to see you Granger. You did well on this last voyage, and it came as no surprise to me.”

“Thank you my lord. I had good role models,” Granger said sincerely. Then he and Calvert took the opportunity to sneak away.

Still somewhat in awe of Granger’s familiarity with these court circles, Calvert managed to ask, “So you get a Spanish medal to wear?”

“So it seems. I hope it isn't too gaudy,” Granger said with a grin.

January 22, 1795

Calvert was back aboard Intrepid, making sure things were in order. He was due to return ashore tomorrow, and then he and Granger were going to ride out to Brentwood. Caroline was still recovering from childbirth and Granger found himself at loose ends, so he had decided it would be a good night to head to Carlton House and pay his respects to the Prince of Wales.

“Commander the Honorable George Granger” boomed the chamberlain as he entered. He contrasted, yet again, Carlton House to St. James Palace. St. James was boring, with influential people, mostly older people, moving around and gossiping or scheming. Carlton House reeked of youth and fun, with gambling and dancing, drinking and ribaldry. People indulged in the same gossiping and scheming, of course, but here it was much more fun. He made his way over to the Prince of Wales.

“Granger! I heard you were back in town. Welcome home!” the Prince said enthusiastically. “Join us here at hazard. Take some more of Portland's money.”

“Thank you Your Royal Highness,” Granger said, bowing and smiling. They handed the dice to Granger and he promptly threw out, making everyone happy. But just as the last time, that presaged a winning streak.

“You're leaving soon, I hope,” the Duke of Portland said. “I find I cannot afford your visits.”

“I must beg Your Grace's pardon,” Granger said politely. “But surely you would not begrudge a young man some riches?” The Prince laughed, so the others did as well.

“You do not need our riches,” Earl Fitzwilliam said. “You won so much prize money my son came home with more cash than I have.”

“And damn fine work too Granger,” The Prince said.

“Thank you Your Royal Highness. I did no more than you would have done in the same situation,” Granger said. The Prince liked flattery, and Granger saw Portland and Fitzwilliam hide their snickers at his adroit comment.

“You trusted your son to this man?” Portland asked Fitzwilliam.

“I did, Your Grace. He left a boy and came home a man,” Fitzwilliam said. Granger smiled broadly at that. He was proud of the boy too.

“Perhaps I should lend you my children for a while Granger,” Portland said, joking.

“Well if it isn't our naval hero of the hour,” a familiar voice said. Charles James Fox.

“Greetings Mr. Fox,” Granger said.

“What's that bauble around your collar?” he demanded.

“It's the order of Charles III, a Spanish honor sir,” Granger said. He'd gotten it just this afternoon and Caroline insisted he wear it so as not to insult the Spaniards, should they hear he didn't wear it.

“I thought you were serving in the Royal Navy?” Fox asked snidely.

“Well sir, it seems that in the course of my actions I did the King of Spain a favor and he saw fit to thank me in this manner,” Granger said politely.

“Saved His Most Catholic Majesty hundreds of thousands of pounds in treasure is what he did,” Fitzwilliam said.

“That would explain the medal then,” Fox said. “So you saw your brother in India? He's up to no good.”

“Begging your pardon, but one could say that about Bertie whether he was here or in India,” Granger said with a smile. That got a laugh from the others.

“Well, when he was here he wasn't colluding with the French,” Fox said.

“For God's sake Fox, do you always have to ruin a good time?” Portland demanded. “Every time you come over here and yammer away at Granger it costs me dearly.” Granger studied Portland carefully. The Duke was a smart man. He was shutting Fox up so he didn't talk about things that weren't his business.

“Your Grace's bad luck can hardly be blamed on my presence,” Fox said.

“Some would say that just your presence is bad luck,” Fitzwilliam joked, making everyone laugh.

Fox glared at Granger. “Well Commander, I received a most interesting communiqué from a friend of mine, Admiral Wilcox. He is one person who does not have good things to say about you!”

“One cannot be universally popular,” Granger replied cheekily. If Fox was Wilcox's protector, there was no need to be fawningly nice to him.

“Yet you have failed to impress one of Britain's premier admirals,” Fox said with indignation.

“Indeed Mr. Fox, and which admiral might that be?” Granger asked. He saw Fitzwilliam hide his snicker.

“Admiral Wilcox, Granger. Don't be impertinent,” Fox demanded.

“Just what exactly constitutes a premier admiral, Fox?” Portland asked, egging him on. “I was aware of rear admirals and vice-admirals, but never premier admirals. What, has Spencer gone and created a whole new class of them?” Everyone laughed at that.

“Admiral Wilcox is a distinguished naval officer that commands the respect of his men and his officers,” Fox said. “Wouldn't you agree Commander?” Fox was baiting him, but Granger decided to take it anyway.

“No Mr. Fox, I would not,” Granger said simply.

“I see. Simply because he didn't pamper you like Hood did?” Fox probed, trying to piss him off.

“No, simply because he does nothing but keep his ships and his men sitting in port doing nothing. But perhaps you know naval strategy better than I do sir, I did not mean to presume,” Granger said. Fox glared at him while the others laughed.

“Fox, maybe you should join the navy. I'll bet His Majesty would give you your own ship just to get you away from here,” Fitzwilliam joked.

“You are all most humorous. Mr. Granger, we will have to discuss this communiqué I received from Admiral Wilcox sometime. Perhaps you can answer for your brother. Good day gentlemen, Your Royal Highness,” he said, and then he was gone. That explained much of the Wilcoxes' staying power. They were allied to Fox and his cronies, the radical wing of the Whig party. Wilcox must have felt trapped in Madras, surrounded by those who were hostile to his discoveries, so he sent them directly to Fox.

Granger chattered a bit longer, and gambled a bit more, then left the table some 10,000 pounds richer. The money was always nice, but his conversation with Fox bothered him. Not the banter, he could tell from the others that standing up to Fox had done nothing to harm him in their eyes, only enhanced his stature. No, he was concerned about what Wilcox had told Fox. He'd have to make a trip to the Admiralty and call on the First Lord to seek instructions, or so he thought. Here, coming through the door, was Lord Spencer. Granger wasn't used to seeing senior officers here, but then, Carlton House was a Whig bastion, and Spencer was a Whig. He made his way to the First Lord deliberately.

“Granger, that's a cute bauble you have around your neck,” Spencer said playfully.

“Thank you my lord. I think it rather sets off my blue eyes, don't you?” he teased. “May I speak to you for a moment?”

Spencer looked irritated at that, but moved off into an alcove with Granger. “What is it?”

“Mr. Fox approached me tonight my lord. He said he received a communiqué from Admiral Wilcox and accused Bertie of colluding with the French. He expressed a desire to discuss the matter with me,” Granger said quickly.

He'd never seen the First Lord angry before, but he did now. His face turned almost red and his rage was barely contained. “Bloody hell!”

“I'm sorry to bother you my lord, and ruin your evening, but I thought it important for you to be aware,” Granger hastened to add.

Spencer mellowed. “Fox is a pain in the backside, always has been. It's Wilcox that infuriates me. Communicating confidential information directly to a Member of Parliament, it's the act of a rogue.” He paused to collect himself. “I will handle this Granger. Don't discuss it with Fox, and if he pressures you, tell him you have orders from me.”

“Yes my lord. Thank you my lord,” Granger said. He decided he'd had enough excitement for one night and headed out to hail a cab.

“Commander Granger I believe?” he heard and turned to find himself facing Teasdale's Major.

“Major Jardines. It is good to see you again,” Granger said in a friendly way.

“You are leaving as well? Perhaps I can offer you a ride?” he said, his eyes twinkling with lust. Granger eyed him, his large strong frame, his reddish hair and blemished face, all of it giving him a rugged and masculine appearance.

“I would not want to inconvenience you,” Granger said.

“It would be my pleasure,” he said, opening the door for Granger. He climbed in and sat next to Granger, so close their thighs were touching. Granger willed himself to move his thigh away, but the man had a magnetism about him that held him in place.

Jardines moved his hand to his own thigh, allowing his fingers to graze Granger's as well. “I was hoping you'd be willing to join me for a drink? I have a flat quite close,” he said.

“Alright,” Granger said, knowing he shouldn't, but finding it hard to resist this man. The coach lurched to a stop and he jumped out and led Granger into a nice building and up two flights of stairs. There was a lovely little flat, the perfect bachelor's quarters. It was just like Jardines, dripping with masculinity. He turned to look at the room and found himself staring at Jardines, their faces close and getting closer as Jardines pulled him in. Their lips met and they kissed. Granger had had better kisses, but only because of how he'd felt about the people he'd kissed. From a technique standpoint, Jardines was the ultimate.

He led Granger to his bedroom and began to undress, smiling at Granger as he watched him. He stripped off his coat, then his shirt, showing his massive physique with muscles bulging as big as Holmquist's. He had a slight dusting of red hair on his chest and abdomen, enough to make him look manly, but not enough to look like a rug. He paused, waiting for Granger to match his moves. Granger removed his coat, then his shirt, showing off his thin, smooth, almost hairless body.

Jardines sat on the bed and pulled off his boots so Granger did the same thing. Then he stood up and lowered his trousers and out popped his cock, right in front of Granger's face. It was massive, the biggest dick Granger had ever seen. Not only was it long, longer even than Calvert by a few inches, but it was thick, really thick. The thing was freakish, and a little scary. He moved it to Granger's mouth and Granger extended his jaws as wide as he could, but he could barely take a fourth of the massive thing. Still Jardines didn't seem to mind. He pulled off Granger's trousers and began to stroke Granger's hard cock.

His fingers explored Granger's balls, then his ass, probing gently but urgently, stretching him open. Jardines globbed the lanolin on, all the while kissing him and nibbling on his neck. Granger had the feeling that he was being seduced by a professional, someone who did this a lot, but Jardines' hands felt so good; his mouth was so intoxicating, that Granger just surrendered to his moves. He felt Jardines spin him around and felt that massive cock at the entrance to his hole.

“No, you mustn't tense up, you must welcome me in. Let me in and I will make you feel better than you ever dreamed,” he cooed in Granger's ear. Granger moaned and pushed back. “It will hurt a little,” Jardines said soothingly. That was an understatement, Granger thought. He felt like he was being ripped wide open. But by now Jardines was in him, pushing in more, and nothing Granger said would stop him anyway. “Oh yeah, that tight little ass of yours feels so good. So good,” he cooed. Granger felt himself relaxing now, letting Jardines spear him with that massive tool, and gradually the pain receded, to be replaced by a raw physical reaction Granger hadn't expected.

“Now it feels good, doesn't it?” Jardines murmured. “Now you like it?”

“Yes, oh yes,” Granger said.

“No one can hear you in here; tell me that you like it. Tell me how much,” Jardines said loudly as he drove in and out of Granger.

“Yes!” Granger yelled. “Oh yeah! Yeah! Yeah!” he yelled at the top of his lungs, the freedom, the ability to make noise so liberating he completely lost control, moaning, yelling, all the while grinding along while Jardines fucked him.

“You are so beautiful, your ass is so tight, so sublime, you are going to make me cum. I am going to cum. I am going to fucking flood your ass,” Jardines said loudly, then slammed into Granger and held himself perfectly still as his cock spewed his load inside Granger. Then, without pulling out, he reached around and stroked Granger's cock, bringing him to the brink of orgasm.

“You want to cum?” he asked. “Tell me.”

“Make me cum! Make me cum, dammit!” Granger yelled, and then he did. He blasted his load damn near across the room, so hard did he ejaculate. As soon as he was done, Jardines pulled out of him slowly, gently, and then held him, caressing him in an incredibly loving manner.

“I was hoping you'd come home with me,” he said slyly.

“I'm glad I did,” Granger said, turning to kiss him. “But I must get home.”

“You can leave now, but you will come see me again. We were too good together not to do that again,” he said, his voice cocky, but the words true. Granger gave him a quick kiss, threw on his clothes and caught a hackney coach home.

January 23, 1795

It was inevitable that Granger would think of Travers as he and Calvert rode out to Brentwood, even though the only similarity was the cold weather. Calvert had grown up in the country and was an expert horseman, whereas Travers secretly detested the beasts. It was also inevitable that he should think about Jardines, and not just because every time his ass hit the saddle it sent a charge of pain and excitement up his spine. Everything Jardines had done had been so perfect, probably choreographed, but it didn't matter. It had fired Granger up like nothing else, turned him into a sexual being. He longed to go back to Jardines' flat for more. To smell his pungent aroma, hear his words, feel his huge cock pulsing in his ass as it spasmed in orgasm.

“Is it much farther?” Calvert asked, more out of curiosity than fatigue.

“No, we'll be there shortly,” Granger said. What was it about Jardines that had inflamed him? Was he just chasing after the biggest cock around? No, it was more than that. It was the way Jardines had his own flat and encouraged him to fully let himself go, to be as loud as he wanted. It was so many things, so many intangibles. Why wasn't Arthur fixated on him? He would seem to be the perfect match for him. He forced Jardines out of his mind until the next bump jarred his ass, and his mind went back to last night again.

They got to the gates, significantly grander than the last time he'd been out here. “This is it,” Granger said. They guided their horses down the long lane to the massive house at the end.

“This place is huge!” Calvert observed.

“It is. Caroline has been working to renovate it. It will be interesting to see how much is done,” Granger said. This time there was a footman ready to take their horses when they rode up. Granger strode into the Great Hall and admired the transformation Caroline had made. It was still Gothic, but in a very refined kind of way.

“Welcome home sir,” Hudson said. “Will you be staying over?”

“Just for tonight Hudson. I want to see how the improvements have come along before I go back to sea,” Granger told him.

“Of course sir. I hope you won't find this presumptuous, but all of us, the staff and I, are quite proud of you,” Hudson said, unbending for the first time since Granger had met him.

“Well that's very flattering Hudson. Thank you, and convey my thanks to the staff as well,” Granger said. Calvert watched the interchange curiously.

Hudson guided them through the house. It had been almost a year since Granger had been here, and Caroline had worked her magic. The ground floor was re-oriented to hold all of the public rooms, and they were magnificent. That was the word to describe them, Granger thought. Pretty or elegant were too pedestrian. He entered the library and ogled the floor to ceiling bookshelves, all built out of beautiful walnut.

Hudson led them upstairs then, and showed Granger his own suite of rooms. His favorite was the room containing his big bathtub with room enough for two. The room was entirely covered in tile, so no moisture from this bath would damage the rooms below. There was a room adjacent to Granger's bedroom, presumably for Caroline, but he put Calvert in there instead.

“I think I'd like a bath Hudson,” Granger said.

“Of course sir. We'll have it ready shortly,” he answered. Granger went into his room and smiled at Calvert.

“Want to christen my new tub?” Granger asked.

“I've wanted to be naked with you all day,” Calvert said. “How we do that is up to you.”

They took a bath together and made love in the tub, and then in the bed after that, and then again after that. It was satisfying beyond belief because of the physical aspect, and because Granger loved Calvert. Still, he wondered, why did Jardines still fill his thoughts? Why did just the thought of being with him send tingles up Granger's spine?

January 24, 1795

The next morning they toured the estate with Mr. Broadfield. Granger was pleased to see all the changes that had been made, and even more pleased to see how proud Broadfield was of them. The family that had lived in a mere hovel, with huge holes in the wall, now had a quaint cottage. The woman whose husband had died had been able to find work in the village. Her farm had been let to a new family, but she seemed content anyway. Granger supposed that being able to provide food and shelter for her children was the key goal anyway. And to top it all off, Broadfield had made hunting game a big event, setting up a town feast to eat the unfortunate creatures that had been felled, then letting the tenants take the leftovers home with them.

“I am quite pleased with your progress, Mr. Broadfield,” Granger said.

“Thank you sir. We've been able to make all of these changes and rents have only been ten percent lower as a result,” he said proudly.

“Ten percent is a small price to pay to make their lives bearable,” Granger said with genuine concern for his people. “That boy you sent me, Gatling, has turned out to be a sharp lad.”

“I'm glad to hear that sir,” Broadfield said. “I'll let his mother know.” They headed back to the palatial manor house and warmed themselves up by the fire, and then Calvert and Granger set off again, back to London.