Tom Branson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
irish_radical) wrote2012-09-03 04:19 pm
irish_radical) wrote2012-09-03 04:19 pm
[Milliways]: Meeting the boss
He’s hardly been installed in his new position a few hours before he’s called in to see Lord Grantham. He hasn’t even had time to unpack anything in the chauffeur’s cottage. The butler, a formidable man named Carson, comes to fetch him and brings him to his lordship’s library.
“You wanted to see the new chauffer, my lord,” Carson says from the doorway as Branson waits outside.
“Yes, indeed,” comes the reply. “Please send him in.”
At a gesture from the butler, Branson enters the room. The whole house is much grander than his last position, so he shouldn’t be surprised the library is just as impressive, but he still glances around a bit in a mixture of awe and envy.
“Come in!” says Lord Grantham from his seat at the desk, and Branson holds his hat in his hands as he approaches. “Come in. Good to see you again. Branson, isn’t it?”
Branson tucks his hat under one arm and puts the other behind his back. “That’s right, your lordship.”
“I hope they’ve shown you where everything is and we’ve delivered whatever it is we promised at the interview.”
“Certainly, my lord,” Branson agrees. The cottage was nice, after all, if a bit snug. More than enough to suit him.
“Won’t you miss Ireland?” Lord Grantham asks, standing and coming closer, and Branson has to credit him for asking.
“Ireland yes, but not the job,” Branson admits. “The mistress was a nice lady, but she only had one car, and she wouldn’t let me drive it over twenty miles an hour.” A crime, if you asked him. If that’s all the faster she wanted to go, she should’ve stuck to horses. “So it was a bit…well, boring, so to speak.”
Lord Grantham laughs politely, and Branson smiles, relaxing a bit. “You’ve got a wonderful library,” he says, voicing the thought that’s been running through his head since he stepped into the room.
His lordship looks a bit surprised, and it takes him a moment to answer. “You’re very welcome to borrow books, if you wish.”
“Really, my lord?” Branson asks, a bit surprised himself at the generosity, the trust.
“Well, there’s a ledger over there that I make everyone use, even my daughters. Carson and Mrs. Hughes sometimes take a novel or two. What are your interests?”
“History and politics mainly,” Branson says. It’s the truth, but it’s also a bit of a test, to see how he reacts to that.
There’s another brief pause. “Heavens,” he answers, looking again surprised but not shocked or concerned. Branson has to credit him for that as well.
“You wanted to see the new chauffer, my lord,” Carson says from the doorway as Branson waits outside.
“Yes, indeed,” comes the reply. “Please send him in.”
At a gesture from the butler, Branson enters the room. The whole house is much grander than his last position, so he shouldn’t be surprised the library is just as impressive, but he still glances around a bit in a mixture of awe and envy.
“Come in!” says Lord Grantham from his seat at the desk, and Branson holds his hat in his hands as he approaches. “Come in. Good to see you again. Branson, isn’t it?”
Branson tucks his hat under one arm and puts the other behind his back. “That’s right, your lordship.”
“I hope they’ve shown you where everything is and we’ve delivered whatever it is we promised at the interview.”
“Certainly, my lord,” Branson agrees. The cottage was nice, after all, if a bit snug. More than enough to suit him.
“Won’t you miss Ireland?” Lord Grantham asks, standing and coming closer, and Branson has to credit him for asking.
“Ireland yes, but not the job,” Branson admits. “The mistress was a nice lady, but she only had one car, and she wouldn’t let me drive it over twenty miles an hour.” A crime, if you asked him. If that’s all the faster she wanted to go, she should’ve stuck to horses. “So it was a bit…well, boring, so to speak.”
Lord Grantham laughs politely, and Branson smiles, relaxing a bit. “You’ve got a wonderful library,” he says, voicing the thought that’s been running through his head since he stepped into the room.
His lordship looks a bit surprised, and it takes him a moment to answer. “You’re very welcome to borrow books, if you wish.”
“Really, my lord?” Branson asks, a bit surprised himself at the generosity, the trust.
“Well, there’s a ledger over there that I make everyone use, even my daughters. Carson and Mrs. Hughes sometimes take a novel or two. What are your interests?”
“History and politics mainly,” Branson says. It’s the truth, but it’s also a bit of a test, to see how he reacts to that.
There’s another brief pause. “Heavens,” he answers, looking again surprised but not shocked or concerned. Branson has to credit him for that as well.