“It is lovely, isn’t it?” Blaine remarked, pleased.

“Truly it is, but I’m still unclear as to why you would choose a place so far from London.” Mister Smythe pondered as they made their way up the steps.

“You know how I tire of the town, Smythe; there is not near enough quiet there.”

“I know that you tier of the company of your father, Mister Anderson. I dare say you do not get enough quiet from him either, eh?” Mister Smythe grinned cheekily.

“Oh, do not mock me, friend!” Blaine cried with a good-natured smile.

“I apologize,” Smythe said. “I do not mean to make light of your situation with your father. I have seen first-hand that your father is difficult at best.”

Blaine sighed and nodded in return.
Mister Smythe patted him gently between the shoulders, “I suppose, then, I do understand why you chose to move out here, friend. It is full of silence.” He added with a wink.

Blaine tittered and followed Mister Smythe into the first parlour, where they sat by the West windows and waited for one of the maids to bring tea.

“You know, Blaine, you really ought to be careful with the company out here.”

“Careful?” Blaine cried with an incredulous crook of the mouth. “What on earth for?”

“The families here are no-where near as wealthy as yours or mine; the ladies of the neighbourhood will surely all be fighting for your affections.”

Blaine laughed, “Speak for your own, dear friend! They will be after you just as soon if you linger here too long!”

“Ah, but see that is no trouble for me; I can easily defend myself from any of the unwanted advances of these impecunious women.”

“Oh-ho! And I cannot?”

“No, you cannot.”

“And why is that, pray?” Blaine asked with amusement.

“Because you are too nice.” Mister Smythe replied, a twinkle in his eye.

“Because you cannot say ‘no’,” he continued. “And always aim to please everyone.”

“Oh, do tell me, Mister Smythe, what you truly think of my character won’t you?” Blaine chuckled over his tea.

“Oh, dear friend! I meant no offense! I was simply making an observation.” Mister Smythe said, patting Blaine’s knee. “Furthermore, if I were to give my opinion on your character, I should say that it is one of the more pleasing and agreeable that I’ve ever met, particularly in regard to those traits mentioned earlier; It is very endearing.”

Mister Smythe watches him over the rim of his teacup while Blaine simply shakes his head with a smile and roses in his cheeks.

The evening after his outing with Miss Berry, Kurt informed his father, Mister Burt Hummel, about the arrival of Mister Anderson.

“Miss Berry absolutely insisted that I pay him a visit, but I told her that I shall not.” Kurt said, concluding his story with conviction.

“Well, why not?” Burt asked, setting his utensils down. “Why are you so strongly opposed to going to meet him?”

“Because,” Kurt exclaimed, “there is no need for it; I see no reason why I should meet him.”

Burt stared at him for a long moment.

“You have spent too much time in the town; London has made you critical and hardened to common courtesies.”

Kurt grit his teeth and bit his tongue.

“Do not leer at me, dear boy,” Burt said evenly. “You know it is true.”

“Fine,” Kurt’s gaze dropped back down to his plate as he began to eat again. “If you are so eager to make his acquaintance, you should visit him; It would be more appropriate, seeing as how you are the master of this house.”

“True, it would be best is I were the one to greet him, but you and I both know that my health is far too ill to make the trip.”

Kurt sighed, “I know. You are right.”
He looked up at his father, “I will go welcome Mister Anderson to the neighbourhood tomorrow, if that is your wish.”

Burt smiled warmly at his son, “Yes, it is. I will appreciate it very much.”

The next morning, Kurt rose early and dressed well so that he would be presentable to Mister Anderson. In the privacy of his own chambers, Kurt allowed himself the satisfaction of an eye-roll and a childishly pulled face. After breakfast, at about 10:30, Kurt left Hummel Lodge for Havenside on his bright chestnut horse, Quincy.

One of the servants greeted Kurt at the door, sent someone to tend to his horse, and then asked him to, “Kindly have a seat in this parlour, sir, and I shall tell my master of your arrival.” Kurt settled himself into the elegant sitting room, perching on a seat by the West-facing windows and watching the wind tickle the fragile limbs of the birch trees.

After a few moments, the door opened again, and Kurt stood and turned.

“Mister Anderson and Mister Smythe, sir.” The servant announced before bowing out of the room.

Mister Anderson and his companion entered the room, meeting Kurt in the middle where all three exchanged courteous bows. Upon raising his head, Kurt took full notice of Mister Anderson; the short, strong build, the dark, curly hair, the warm smile, the thick eyebrows, and, most of all, the golden-hazel eyes which had brilliance enough to outshine the stars. But Kurt willed himself to look away, turning his attention to Mister Smythe, who was quite a bit taller than Mister Anderson, and although not unhandsome, had a certain smirky-ness to his countenance which took away greatly from his charm.

“Mister Anderson, Mister Smythe.” Kurt said, addressing them in turn with a polite smile. “I am Kurt Hummel, of Hummel Lodge, just three miles South-East of here. It is a pleasure to meet you both.”

“The pleasure is all ours, I assure you!” Mister Anderson said genially, taking a seat, quickly followed by the other two men. “Sebastian, would you ring the bell for tea, please?”
Mister Smythe nodded once before getting up.

“What can I do for you, Mister Hummel?” Mister Anderson beamed.
Kurt’s breath caught in his throat, but he forced his voice into motion.

“Nothing, sir. I simply wished to welcome you to Berkwood.”

“Well, for that I thank you greatly; you are the first to pay me a visit. Isn’t that right, Mister Smythe?”

Mister Smythe had resumed his place next to Mister Anderson and was now fixing Kurt with a neatly-concealed look of calculation.

“Quite. I was beginning to believe that perhaps everyone was rather afraid to.” Mister Smythe said with a cool smile.

Kurt glanced at Mister Smythe quizzically, put replaced the look with a soft smile.
“Well, I am pleased to hear the I may have the honour of being the first to welcome you to Berkwood. How do you find it?”

“Quite well, thank you.” Mister Anderson said happily. “The country is so beautiful, and I find myself very content here.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

“Yes, my only regret is that I haven’t yet been able to introduce myself to the society.” Mister Anderson remarked with a sigh.

“That is surely only because you’ve not been in here long; the neighbourhood has been very excited by the news of your coming.”

“Is that so?” Mister Anderson asked with surprise.

“Oh yes, very!”

“I do not doubt it.” Mister Smythe, who until now had been quietly watching their exchange, resettled himself in his seat, crossing his legs comfortably. “As we discussed, Mister Anderson, the population of this society,” the word fell off his tongue with sarcasm and a look of distaste, “has not likely had someone with such status or culture in their midst for quite some time, wouldn’t you agree, Mister Hummel?”

Those steely, unreadable eyes fell upon Kurt again, who was struggling to maintain his composure under the weight of Mister Smythe’s scornful inclination.

“I suppose not, although a decent amount of those living here have spent time traveling out of Berkwood, I assure you.”

Mister Smythe’s lips quirked in a smirk, and an uneasy silence fell among them until Kurt spoke once more.
“Well, Mister Anderson, the very best way to integrate oneself into any society, I’ve found, is by attending a party; those sorts of things are very popular around here.”

“Ah yes!” Mister Anderson said over enthusiastically, grateful for the release in the tension. “Perhaps- Would it be entirely too bold to hold a party of my own?”

“No, not at all! I believe everyone would be very pleased by such an action.”

“Excellent, I shall begin planning at once. Your family shall be the first to receive an invitation, Mister Hummel.”

Kurt bowed his head in gratitude, “I thank you in advance then. But now,” he rose from his seat, the other men following in suit. “I’m afraid I’ve trespassed on your kindness for far too long. It was truly an honour meeting both of you, Mister Anderson, Mister Smythe.” He bowed cordially, his eyes lingering on Mister Anderson’s, only to be struck once more by the icy gaze of Mister Smythe in his periphery. They bid him farewell, and he left at once.