Rake's Progress Read Free Page A

held to Rainbird’s throat. ‘You,’ he said to Alice over the butler’s shoulder, ‘go upstairs or I will slit his throat.’
    A tense silence fell on the servants.
    Then Angus MacGregor rolled up his sleeve, stretched one hairy arm around Rainbird, and seized the Spanish manservant by the cravat. Manuel made to stab Rainbird with his knife, but Jenny the chambermaid sank her excellent teeth into his wrist and he let the knife fall with a clatter. MacGregor picked him up and began to shake him to and fro while the Spaniard screamed in terror like a wounded animal.
    â€˜What the deuce is going on?’ demanded a cold voice from the doorway.
    The women began to scream as loudly as Manuel and covered their eyes with their hands, although Mrs Middleton peeped through her fingers. It was a sight she had not seen before and was not likely to see again.
    Lord Guy stood there, dripping water, stark naked.
    â€˜Well,’ he demanded, ‘what are you doing with my servant?’
    â€˜He tried to drag Alice upstairs,’ said Rainbird. ‘Then he drew a knife.’
    â€˜Oh,’ said Lord Guy blankly. ‘Don’t you want to scrub my back, Alice?’
    â€˜No,’ mumbled Alice.
    He shrugged his naked shoulders. ‘Well, that’s that,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Manuel, come with me. That knife of yours must never be used again. Oh, Rainbird, get that coffee down Mr Roger’s throat. The night is young, and I am of a mind to enjoy myself.’
    He strolled out, presenting a view of impertinent, muscled buttocks to the embarrassed servants, with his Spanish shadow at his heels.
    â€˜Oh, dear, dear, dear,’ mourned Rainbird. ‘What a Season this is going to be. Joseph, you’d best come and help me with Mr Roger. Angus, bring lots of coffee.’
    By dint of walking Mr Roger up and down for about an hour and pouring scalding black coffeedown his throat from time to time, they managed to get him upstairs to his bedroom. Lord Guy had taken the large bedroom behind the dining room, so they propelled him into the front bedroom on the floor above.
    Rainbird signalled to Joseph to remove Mr Roger’s boots.
    â€˜What are you doing?’ demanded Mr Roger truculently.
    â€˜We will help you dress,’ explained Rainbird.
    â€˜Don’t need to dress. Am dressed. Oh, my aching head.’ Mr Roger lurched across the room and was sick in the fireplace. Joseph turned green and clutched his heaving stomach.
    â€˜Are you ready, Jolly Roger?’ came Lord Guy’s cheerful voice.
    Mr Roger rallied amazingly. ‘Coming,’ he roared.
    â€˜Feeling better?’ called his lordship.
    â€˜Lots. I just cascaded in the fireplace.’
    â€˜That’s the ticket. Come along.’
    Rainbird and Joseph mutely followed Mr Roger out. On the first landing, Lord Guy was waiting with an amused smile on his rakish face. He was dressed in impeccable evening clothes – black coat, fawn silk breeches, and pumps – and he carried a flat bicorne under his arm.
    He raised his quizzing glass and surveyed Mr Roger. ‘Demne,’ he said, ‘here comes the wreck of the regiment.’
    â€˜Shall you wish to dine later, my lord?’ asked Rainbird.
    â€˜Think we’ll eat somewhere outside,’ said Lord Guy.
    He linked arms with Mr Roger, and the pair of them went down the stairs and out the front door into the street.
    It took Jenny an hour with Alice’s help to clean Lord Guy’s bedroom, which was a mess of discarded clothes, wet towels, and empty glasses, while Rainbird and Joseph drew off the water in cans and carried the bath downstairs. Rainbird remarked gloomily the water was as clean as it had been when they had filled the bath, which all went to show my lord was going to be an eccentric washer.
    â€˜The newspapers say his commander-in-chief has a cold bath every morning,’ he said.
    Joseph let out an alarmed