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While Vinculus had occupied the House at Hanover-square, Mr Norrell had been much agitated. Mr Norrell's servants found this quite reasonable; it is always an unpleasant thing to be intruded upon, especially when the intruder is a dirty street-sorcerer who shouts nonsensical prophecies. But now that Lucas and Davey had ejected Vinculus, all reason for agitation was removed, or so Mr Norrell's servants hoped.
It will come as no surprise to those who know anything of Mr Norrell that this was not the case. Mr Norrell remained in a queer mood even after all trace of Vinculus was removed, and he ranted and complained at his servants until only Childermass was willing to stand in the same room as his master and attend to his vexations.
Mr Norrell was fearful that Vinculus would attempt to return, and Childermass was obliged to check every door and window to ensure it was securely fastened, and to instruct every servant to be careful when going in or out of the house, lest someone force entry. Even after every precaution was made, Mr Norrell continued to stare at the windows in his library, and to fiddle with the catches to make sure they were securely closed.
Mr Norrell was deeply unsettled by Vinculus' prophecy - by turns he dismissed it as errant nonsense, then repeated fragments of it in order to deduce their hidden and vital meaning. Childermass must listen to Mr Norrell's various interpretations, and point out the flaws or the virtues of each attempt. Mr Norrell listened to him while fiddling with the window-catch, and if he disagreed with Childermass' critique he would begin to fret loudly about intruders again.
Mr Norrell was petrified that Vinculus had taken something from the house. In fact, Vinculus had taken several items - a candlestick, some of the silver, even a pair of Mr Norrell's boots. Fortunately Lucas and Davey were clever enough men to have patted Vinculus down before ejecting him, and Vinculus' ugly yellow drapery had not concealed his ill-gotten gains for long. Childermass restored all of the items to their rightful places, but this did not satisfy Mr Norrell. Rather, the fact that some items had in fact been stolen only vindicated his fears that other things had been whisked away unnoticed.
In general, Vinculus' visit had completely disconcerted Mr Norrell and thus the household; Childermass' patience was being sorely tried. The affair was at an end, or at least at a pause, and Childermass had better things to be about than watching Mr Norrell work himself up into fits.
"I'll make you some tea," suggested Childermass. Tea might calm Mr Norell, and obtaining it would certainly remove Childermass from Mr Norrell's presence, which seemed an excellent idea.
"Tea?" said Mr Norrell. "Don't we keep the tea in the pantry?"
Childermass agreed that this was where such things were generally kept. This thought did not seem to reassure Mr Norrell.
"But Vinculus was alone in the pantry, quite alone, free to do as he liked!" Mr Norrell made a despairing gesture. "I am sure that he will have poisoned the tea, with such an opportunity. He might have poisoned anything!"
Childermass rolled his eyes. "If it will make you easier," he said, "I will go and make certain that nothing is poisoned."
"No," snapped Mr Norrell. "Have Lucas do it. I want you here."
It eventuated that Mr Norrell would not suffer Childermass to leave him for more than a few moments. Mr Norrell resented Childermass' previous absence in his time of need, and he still feared Vinculus' return. This categorical opposition to Childermass' departure did not suit Childermass, who was of the opinion that Mr Norrell ought to be left to himself for a time until he was less agitated.
But as Mr Norrell was not of this opinion, Childermass could wait1.
Childermass settled into a chair, and watched Mr Norrell pace around the room. Mr Norrell rarely paced, and he had not much practice at it. His steps were delicate, and he so often changed directions that it sometimes seemed as if he were mincing about in a poorly-drawn circle. Childermass made no attempts to keep his smile from his face.
"You are laughing at me," accused Mr Norrell.
"You are being ridiculous," said Childermass, easily. "Vinculus is gone, and he has done nothing to harm you. You are wasting your day in anxiousness."
"Oh!" said Mr Norrell. He began to say something else, but thought better of it. He did not want his fears refuted by Childermass, because unreasonable fears are rarely susceptible to reason. Reason is merely an irritation, insulting the owner of the fears with implications of foolishness. Mr Norrell resumed pacing, and tried to ignore Childermass' smile.
After a while of this, Mr Norrell tired of his aimless walking. He sat down at his desk instead, and pretended to read Thomas Lanchester's The Language of Birds. Childermass could clearly see that he was not paying much attention to Lanchester's work. For one thing, Mr Norrell's eyes were constantly straying to the windows, then to the door, then back to the windows, only occasionally resting on the book he was ostensibly perusing. For another, Mr Norrell had not turned a page in the last ten minutes, and The Language of Birds was not the sort of book that demanded careful consideration of every sentence.
Childermass began to feel that some further action was expected of him. He resumed his feet and stood behind Mr Norrell's chair. Mr Norrell tensed, but did not turn to look at Childermass.
"Your hands are shaking," observed Childermass.
Mr Norrell moved his hands so they were under the desk, out of sight.
"Tea," suggested Childermass, again. "Lucas assures me that nothing is poisoned."
"I don't want any tea!" exclaimed Mr Norrell, and he turned to face Childermass at last. "Can you think of nothing but tea?"
Childermass shrugged. Mr Norrell's eyes caught on the line of Childermass' shoulders as they moved, then deliberately drifted down to Childermass' chest. Then lower still. There was a pause, as Mr Norrell caught his lower lip between his teeth and tried very hard to convey his wishes without actually having to say anything.
"I see," said Childermass, when he tired of waiting for Mr Norrell to make himself clear. "Would that calm you?"
Mr Norrell blushed and continued to say nothing. Childermass smiled, and went to draw the curtains and lock the door. He could feel Mr Norrell's attention on him while he performed these tasks, but when Childermass finished and looked over at the desk, Mr Norrell was busily turning the pages of The Language of Birds, displaying great concentration.
Childermass returned to his place behind Mr Norrell's chair, looking over Mr Norrell's shoulder. The pages of the book were being turned too quickly to read, but Childermass caught phrases, hints of myth and magic. Childermass leaned in until he was practically draped over the back of the chair, his hand on Mr Norrell's thigh for balance.
Mr Norrell stopped turning pages. Childermass ran his hand up and down Mr Norrell's thigh, brushing close to the cloth which concealed Mr Norrell's cock. Mr Norrell closed his book.
"Your man of business," mused Childermass. "Such business as this, I think, ought to be entrusted to a very few."
He could feel the heat from Mr Norrell's cheeks as the man colored again. Childermass continued to stroke Mr Norrell's thigh, and considered how best to proceed.
"Undo your flies for me," he said at last. Mr Norrell's hands were remarkably steady as he obeyed2.
Mr Norrell's cock was already half-hard when Childermass' hand reached it, and Childermass stroked it into fullness before he even bothered to push Mr Norrell's drawers out of the way. Mr Norrell squirmed in his chair a little, trying to remove his breeches and drawers without actually taking the step of standing up to undress. But Childermass rather appreciated how Mr Norrell appeared at present - his cock erect and partially constricted by his old-fashioned clothing. Childermass tightened his grip on Mr Norrell's cock, and Mr Norrell stilled.
"Your house is secure," murmured Childermass, as he ran his thumb over the head of Mr Norrell's cock. "Vinculus means nothing, or at least nothing that cannot be dealt with later." Childermass paused to spit on his hand before returning to his task. "Everything is in its place, just as it was before you were disturbed."
Mr Norrell half-turned in his chair, reaching up to grasp at Childermass' shoulders. He pulled Childermass down to him, slim fingers clutching tightly and causing a small spark of pain to run from Childermass' shoulders to lower parts of his anatomy. Childermass bent lower, until Mr Norrell could hide his face in the join of Childermass' neck and shoulder, breathing wet gasps into Childermass' jacket3. They moved together, twisting until Childermass had an arm around Mr Norrell's back, anchoring them as Childermass crouched at the side of the chair, the better to handle Mr Norrell's cock.
"You are safe," hissed Childermass, directly into Mr Norrell's ear. "It is only us two that are here, we are alone, and you are safe."
"Be quiet and attend to your work," mumbled Mr Norrell, or so Childermass thought. It was difficult to understand him, with his face pressed into Childermass' jacket and his words muffled by cloth. Nevertheless, Childermass obeyed, his handling of Mr Norrell becoming rougher and faster.
Mr Norrell's hold on Childermass' shoulders grew tighter, and Childermass stroked once, twice more and Mr Norrell gasped and spilled himself into Childermass' hand and onto Childermass' jacket.
There was a pause, and neither of them moved except to breathe. Then Childermass moved back, settling onto his knees, and Mr Norrell leaned away into his chair. Mr Norrell produced his handkerchief and carefully cleaned himself before restoring his clothing to order. When this was dealt with, he offered the handkerchief to Childermass.
Childermass shook his head, and proceeded to carefully lick the evidence of Mr Norrell's completion from his palm, then sucked each of his fingers clean.
Mr Norrell was already flushed red, and could not color any further. But this sight did cause him to blink rather rapidly, his fingers clutching at the armrest. Childermass, pleased with this reaction, used his own handkerchief to wipe the worst of the remaining mess from his clothes. The already dirty black of his jacket would hide lingering stains until he was able to return to his own room and change.
Childermass got to his feet, uncomfortable and stiff from his own unsatisfied desire. "Will that be all?"
"I-" began Mr Norrell, and then stopped himself. "Would you like-" he began again, but he could not seem to form the question. Childermass watched him with some interest, but when Mr Norrell lapsed into silence, Childermass shrugged and turned to the door4.
"Vinculus' prophecy was of two magicians," said Mr Norrell, abruptly.
Childermass stopped, his hand on the doorknob. "Yes," he said. "So you've told me."
"The man, the fairy I summoned for Lady Pole," said Mr Norrell. "He spoke of second magician as well. A friend of mine."
"So you've told me," repeated Childermass. He turned and leant against the door, the better to watch Mr Norrell.
"But there are no other magicians," whined Mr Norrell. "There cannot be. And I have no friends."
Childermass raised an eyebrow. He thought of the many spells that he had learnt from Mr Norrell's library, and the many hours he had spent in Mr Norrell's company. He said nothing, but Mr Norrell guessed his thoughts.
"Don't be ridiculous." Mr Norrell waved a hand. "You are not a magician, not in your own right. And-" Mr Norrell hesitated. "And I do not quite know what you are, Childermass, but you are not my friend."
Childermass opened the door. "No," he said. "No, I suppose I am not."
"Anyway," muttered Mr Norrell, "your hair isn't red."
This remark caused Childermass to stare rather rudely at Mr Norrell, but his employer was gazing at the floor, obviously in deep thought about who this mysterious magician could be. His long fingers were tapping on the back of his chair, and his mouth was pursed, as if he were about to say something.
A pulse of heat passed through Childermass, and it startled him into laughter - laughter at the strange Mr Norrell, laughter at the sin they had just committed together, and laughter at himself for being so, so tolerant of the man. Mr Norrell flinched at the sound, and frowned at Childermass.
"I'm glad I'm so amusing to you," he said. "If you would like to make yourself useful, you might fetch me some tea." Mr Norrell paused, and his eyes once again flicked up and down Childermass' body. "After- After you attend to your own business, of course."
Childermass made the smallest of bows, and went off to follow his instructions.
1While Childermass appears to have been a quite independent sort of servant, he was strikingly accommodating to Mr Norrell when Mr Norrell was experiencing his periodic bouts of anxiety. Childermass removed a great number of mice from Mr Norrell's presence, because Mr Norrell was afraid of them. Childermass removed an only somewhat smaller number of magicians from England, for the same reasons. When Childermass returned to the House at Hanover-square and learned that Lucas and Davey had already removed Vinculus, he felt a little cheated.
2A great deal of trial and error had been involved before Childermass had hit upon this instruction. Simply asking Mr Norrell whether he would like to be fondled resulted in indignant rejection. When Childermass attempted to be more circumspect, Mr Norrell would affect to misunderstand his meaning. If Childermass took matters into his own hands, so to speak, and undid Mr Norrell's flies himself, Mr Norrell would angrily slap him away. Childermass always retreated after being rebuffed, and would attempt no further advances. This behavior did not please Mr Norrell either, and he would sulk for the remainder of the day and give Childermass petty and foolish tasks to try and punish him.
The secret to Childermass' success as Mr Norrell's servant, however, was that he found Mr Norrell's pettiness humorous, and his foolishness somewhat - well, somewhat endearing, although Childermass would only associate such a word with Mr Norrell if he thought to tease him. Nevertheless, Mr Norrell continued to hint to Childermass that he wished something from him, and Childermass continued his attempts to provide that something. Finally, Childermass realized that if Mr Norrell were to open his own flies, this would signify Mr Norrell's consent without actually requiring him to say anything obscene. Mr Norrell seemed very pleased with this solution and finally allowed Childermass to take him in hand, to their mutual satisfaction and sense of accomplishment.
However, Mr Norrell remained fickle, and an error in timing or tone on Childermass' part could result in rejection and yet another spoiled evening. Childermass took such disappointments with dignity and, it must be said, some inappropriate amusement.
3If Childermass had been in a state of undress, Mr Norrell probably would have bitten him. Childermass would complain of such behavior, which left bruises or even drew blood, and Mr Norrell would always deny that he had done any such thing. Nevertheless, on his very next opportunity, he would gasp wetly into Childermass' skin and then bite him. Childermass' best defense was to remain dressed, as Mr Norrell had bitten his jacket once, and then complained bitterly of the taste and never done it again.
4It was just as well that Mr Norrell could not bring himself to offer Childermass relief. Childermass was not yet certain what it was that he wanted from Mr Norrell. It was clear that he wanted something, yet equally clear that the idea of Mr Norrell taking him in hand or in his mouth was not particularly appealing. For one thing, Childermass was certain that Mr Norrell would not be particularly good at it, and Childermass did not think that Mr Norrell would be amenable to instruction. At present, Childermass preferred to repair to his own room, where he could indulge in onanism with his own skilled hand and the remembrance of Mr Norrell's tiny gasp of completion.
It is unclear whether Childermass discovered what he desired from Mr Norrell before the latter's disappearance in 1817.