Rara Avis

By Julie Swift

1890. Victorian England. Twenty-year old Michael Callahan is a talented architect who, after being discovered by his father with another man, secretly sails to England to start his life anew as Colin Edwards. Acting on information that his idol, Henry Sewell, is like-minded, Colin seduces his way into a job and Henry's heart. Colin is introduced to new worlds via the older and more experienced Henry, who takes the scandalous step of adopting Colin so that they may live and travel together freely. Along the way Colin explores what it means to be gay, Catholic, an architect ahead of his time, and the object of affection by more than one man (and woman).

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 17, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543955378

Book preview

Rara Avis

Julie Swift

ISBN (Print Edition): 978-1-54395-536-1

ISBN (eBook Edition): 978-1-54395-537-8

© 2018. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

To Karen.

A thing of beauty is a joy forever. Its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness...

—Keats

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

CHAPTER FORTY

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

March 15, 1891

Michael Callahan stood on the deck of the steamship City of New York , a glass of champagne in his hand. He was watching New York distance itself from him, and in kind, he raised his glass to meet Lady Liberty’s torch. To the pursuit of happiness, he toasted, taking a rueful swig. Funny how I have to go to England to find it. Then the young man stood and waited for the melancholy to set in, for his second thoughts on leaving. But after several minutes, all Michael felt was excitement about the voyage ahead. After all, nothing could be worse than what he was leaving behind—a life of falsehoods. Even Jeffrey seemed a hindrance of sorts, now. Michael smiled. Nobody knows me in England. I can be someone else, even! Then his smile became a grin. I can be myself.

March 22, 1891

Dear Jeffrey,

Well, I am in Merry Olde England! I arrived this morning and found a temporary residence until I get to know London a bit better. Guess what? I picked up a paper and you won’t believe who is lecturing at Redwall in two days: Henry Sewell! It is going to cost a small fortune to attend, but if I can meet him, I’m sure he’ll give me a job. I shall write you all about it! I wish you were here to attend with me. Wish me luck.

Sincerely,

Michael

Friday evening, Michael prepared for the evening lecture. He could hardly believe his luck. —Henry Sewell, the architect Michael admired most.! He had read everything he could about the man and coveted the drawings he had copied from books that illustrated some of Mr. Sewell’s buildings. Henry Sewell was considered the most modern man in architecture, for more than anyone else, he detested the gothic revival and Queen Anne styles that were rapidly spreading through England. Some men placed Henry in the burgeoning Arts and Crafts movement at first for this reason, but the only thing he really had in common with the group was that they both found the current Victorian design repugnant. As a means of further separating himself from any established movement, Henry realized he ought to create his own, and he found it at the age of twenty-five, in a request from a friend to redecorate his home. Henry walked into the house, stripped it down to the bare walls, and painted everything white. He then used only three colors throughout the entire house: green, gold, and blue (though varied shades of each were permitted), and allowed no more than fifteen objects per room, including the furniture and decorations. Finally, one object in each room was designated superior to the rest, be it the oldest, the rarest, the most expensive, or the most treasured. This object was the rara avis, Latin for rare bird. From this singular house, Henry created his design theory: In order to fully appreciate the truly remarkable objects man owns, he must strip the setting in which the objects are present. Therefore, every room shall be decorated sparsely, and all items in the room must be of supreme quality and design. Most importantly, there will be one item in every room that stands apart from all others: the Rara Avis. Henry quickly moved on from renovating interiors to creating exteriors that matched his aesthetics. His homes were absent the gingerbread trim, gables, turrets, clapboard siding, and mansard roofs so popular in the day. In their place were simple box shapes that featured floor-to-ceiling windows and arches inside and out. Henry, an enthusiastic early adherent of the new Portland cement-reinforced stucco, used the white material to cover the outside of the home, making it truly stand out from its neighbors, for better or for worse. This rebellious style was considered egregious by most people, yet for this show of defiance, Henry was rewarded. Like his contemporary in art, Claude Monet, Henry was declared heretical in his ideas but praised by his critics and, perhaps most importantly, eventually truly loved by the wealthy population, enough to make vast sums off their commissions. And yet it was a movement so severely limiting that even twenty years later no other professional architects subscribed to it. Michael was proud to think of himself as being the first. He was a fervent believer in the Rara Avis design although even he had trouble keeping faith to it utterly, particularly the three-color limitation. Still he identified with the movement and followed most all of the tenets in his designs. His professors predicted he would be pivotal in making the movement a credible one. Although Michael doubted Henry had heard of him yet, he knew he was still the one best placed to meet him that night at Redwall and ask for a job.

At 7:15 p.m. sharp, Michael left for the auditorium, carefully dressed and overly excited. While on the ship he had decided to shave off his mustache and was quite happy with his new look. Now, as he rode through the darkened London streets, he rehearsed his opening lines.

Michael arrived to find the expansive auditorium full of people. He was dismayed. Though he had paid good money for a seat seven rows from the stage, he realized meeting Mr. Sewell would prove more difficult than he thought. But when the man himself emerged, Michael’s spirits rose. Henry Sewell was far more handsome than Michael could have hoped. The architect cut an imposing figure, and not just because of his tall stature. Henry’s suit was made of fine black wool, with a charcoal-colored silk vest and black pearl buttons. His shoes were barely broken in, and they shone as the cuffs rested just so on them. His sandy brown hair was combed back yet tousled in a sort of playful way, and he tilted his chin up to affect a look of mild arrogance. He had heavy-lidded hazel eyes, and an assertive mouth that was currently forming a smug smile. He had just turned forty-one, and Michael marveled at how much experience the man must have, both professionally and otherwise. He began to relax as he realized that his plan to flirt his way into a job with Henry Sewell would come off very naturally indeed.

Quickly he found himself absorbed by the great architect’s oratory skills and the content of his lecture, taking pages of notes. During the final part of the presentation, Michael reluctantly stole out of the hall, went around to the back doors, and waited.

Twenty minutes later, Henry emerged, and Michael prayed that his information about the man’s inclinations was correct. Isn’t it ironic that a man of contemporary architecture should have to exit through such archaically monstrous doors?

Henry turned his attention toward the American accent and saw a well-dressed young man leaning casually against the wall, hands in pockets. The boy gazed at him with a knowing smile. Henry looked at him, interested. It is an irony indeed. Do I know you?

Michael continued to smile. You may select one of two choices: ‘No, you don’t, but someday my name will be next to yours in architectural history.’ He tipped his hat. Good night. Or, ‘No, you don’t, but introductions can be arranged in the next hour.’ He removed his hat. Good evening.

Henry stared. You were at the lecture. Why, you’re the boy who left!

Only to meet you, Michael replied, his tone laconic but his heart starting to race. Mr. Sewell had noticed him! He regarded the doors once more and sighed in disgust. Gothic and Greek. An atrocity, I assure you.

Henry took a full look at the seducer before him: golden-fair skin, a slender nose, and a pair of imperious eyebrows framing amber eyes. Michael’s thick, burnished-blond hair was just barely tucked behind his ears, and it ended in soft waves at his nape. Henry had planned to attend his club tonight, where he’d no doubt find a boy to take home for the evening. But the young man standing before him offered a far more interesting, though admittedly dangerous, choice. There’s room, he said simply, and the steward opened the door. Michael coolly regarded the hansom as if it had been called for him, and stepped inside, Henry following.

As the carriage moved along, Michael said nothing, letting Henry take him in. Then he turned his head and gave Henry a penetrating look.

I can have you.

But Henry merely blinked. Where are you staying, Mr....?

At the Sheffield.

Henry raised his eyebrows. You’re here temporarily?

Michael smiled. I’m at the Sheffield temporarily. Until I can locate a more permanent residence. Then he asked earnestly, Mr. Sewell, where do you suppose is the ideal place to live in London?

Henry chuckled. You mean, besides my own house?

Michael smiled. I was thinking in terms of myself.

So was I, Henry almost replied, but he congratulated himself on his restraint. Then he frowned. You’re planning to permanently reside in London?

Yes. Michael turned his head back to the window and smiled. Although I hear Paris is supposed to be more... forgiving. He stole a glance at Henry, who leaned on his cane.

Have you any sisters?

A shadow fell across Michael’s face. I have two, he said flatly.

Ah. That would explain how you’ve perfected the art of coquetry.

Michael looked at him sharply. Anything perfect about me, Mr. Sewell, is by my own design.

Well then! I shall hand you full credit for your perfectly awful display of manners! Presumably it has to do with your being American, but you’ve breached even the most lax form of etiquette by engaging me in conversation without giving so much as your first name.

Michael tilted his head, amused. I see it is a first for you.

Henry snorted. Of course not! However, seeing as you claim to be an architect of some measure, it would be silly not to wonder about your identity. And it still makes you very rude.

Michael laughed. Heaven forbid one should be rude in the hansom of Mr. Sewell. He extended his hand and locked eyes with Henry. It would be the first time he uttered his chosen new name for himself. Colin Edwards.

Henry shook his head, knitting his brow. Edwards? Edwards... I don’t believe I’ve heard the name.

Colin smiled. I’m sure few American names make it across the Atlantic.

Henry shook his head. Well, I’ve heard of Burnham, Hunt, McKim, Callahan... that sort.

Colin’s eyes widened. You’ve heard of Michael Callahan?

Well, yes. He’s that student who’s supposedly the new me.

Colin nodded excitedly. He is! I... I’m actually a contemporary of his!

Henry studied him. Really? You’re a student at MIT?

I was. Not anymore. I’m here now.

Henry narrowed his eyes. You dropped out of school to come here?

Colin gave a wry smile. My choice in that matter was decided for me, unfortunately.

Henry grew more curious. If you were recently a student, then you must be nineteen? Twenty?

On the 30th of April I’ll be exactly twenty years younger than you, Mr. Sewell.

You know my age?

Of course, Colin smiled. I know everything about you. He turned back to look out the window. You may quiz me later, if you like.

Not now?

Colin continued to gaze outwards, his expression darkening. No, Mr. Sewell. Not now.

By this time Henry was quite taken with this mysterious, impudent character. When they entered his home, Henry was pleased to see Colin utterly absorbed in the slightest details of decoration. After drinks were served, he sat down to appraise the appraiser.

Colin was a full head shorter than Henry, but he also held his head high in regal fashion, and he had excellent posture. Being an architect, Henry had an especially keen eye for proportion, and he had quickly deemed Colin’s features perfect, from his smooth forehead (the very definition of highbrow, Henry mused) to his well-defined chin. He also admired Colin’s lightly tanned complexion, so different from the pearlescent skin of the British. And then there was the boy’s deliciously curvaceous mouth, which delivered forth words in a fascinating accent. Henry loved unique qualities in people, and he had never before met an American this young, this educated, and most importantly, this available. For unbeknownst to the new lad, Henry had been searching for someone like him for several months now. He hadn’t told anyone yet, out of fear of appearing desperate, but Henry Sewell was looking for a mistress.

Mistresses were a mark of status in the society of the upper-crust regular fellows, and Henry believed the same would hold true in his own. It was a novel idea, spurred by the fact that Henry was finally getting tired of the routine that had been his for the past twenty years: take boys home, let them stay around a few days, and then get rid of them. It had suited him perfectly until now.

Lately Henry found himself craving possession, and he wondered if it was perhaps because he hadn’t a wife or children to call his own. Never mind that he wasn’t married; he didn’t want a mistress in the truest sense of the word. He mainly desired a pretty young thing who belonged to only him and who he could show off to others. One could argue that all he was really in search of was a beau, a sweetheart. But mistress had a much more thrilling sound to it, one that matched his reputation for being envied by his peers (a reputation Henry had steadily cultivated over the years). In fact, Henry thought the word courtesan was even better. For like a royal courtesan, his ideal boy would be smart, beautiful, and of course, sexually savvy. Unfortunately, such a young man was proving difficult to find. Henry already knew the boys at his club several times over; they were too familiar for him to make such an offer. Others he met appeared too louche: boys that eager to please were often from the street, a class Henry refused to touch. He wanted his boy well-bred and self-sufficient, yet dependent in some way on Henry. So, one can only imagine the opportunity that Mr. Colin Edwards was affording Henry this very moment.

At last, Henry found his voice. Colin Edwards is a very Irish and British name. How did you come by it?

Colin examined a painting on the wall. My mother is Irish. My father is English. What painting is this?

"It’s a Bouguereau. Evening Mood. It was exhibited at the 1882 Salon."

It’s stunning.

It is, isn’t it? I’m glad you like it. Now do tell about your parents, Mr. Edwards.

Colin turned and faced Henry, smiling. I would be happy to, if they were currently in favor with me.

So you ran away, Henry deduced, somewhat condescendingly.

Colin sighed in minor irritation and fixed upon another objet d’art. My parents no longer wanted me.

They disowned you?

Colin gave a laugh. It was me who did the disowning.

Well, what, did you break some sort of law? Have I unwittingly permitted a criminal to my quarters?

Colin walked toward the sofa. I don’t think you do anything ‘unwittingly,’ Mr. Sewell. Then he sat down next to Henry and gazed at him. The law I broke was a moral one, not a civil one.

Is that so? Henry murmured, tracing Colin’s jawbone with the back of his hand.

Colin lowered his head so that his lips were on Henry’s hand. Yes, he whispered looking at his mentor.

Henry replaced his hand with his mouth, but in a few moments, Colin gently pushed him back. I see we’re both from the same school, he smiled. And we could both do with some restraint.

Henry looked incredulous. Restraint! Whatever for?

Colin gazed at him. Henry, everything I do is in deliberation. You won’t have me in one night. Or two.

Really! Henry exclaimed. And just how long a wait do you think you’re worth, Mr. Edwards?

Colin smiled. A fortnight.

A fortnight! Henry stood up. Mr. Edwards, I don’t care if you’re Prince Albert himself! Do you think you’re the first amateur draftsman to try to cross my path and win a job out of me?

Colin angrily leapt to his feet. I’m not an amateur draftsman!

I’ve never even heard of you! Some supercilious dropout with the audacity to try and seduce me, then cry wolf when he succeeds? I don’t know how you got the impression that I was in need of the likes of you, Mr. Edwards, but you are most mistaken! Most mistaken indeed!

Colin glared at the clock and drew closer to Henry. In twelve hours I’ll return to show you my work. He brought his face within inches of Henry’s. And after you’ve seen it, you’ll wait a thousand fortnights. Good night, Mr. Sewell.

Henry watched the young man exit, and then sighed. Really, his life would be so much easier without the difficult ones.

CHAPTER TWO

In keeping with his word, Colin climbed the steep stairway to Henry’s door at eleven o’clock sharp Saturday. Before ringing the bell, he glanced around at the handsome brownstone. Henry had not built it, but he had certainly kept it up and it fit right in with the fashionable Mayfair neighborhood.

Instead of his servant answering, Henry opened the door to a surprised Colin. I half-expected you to be on a boat back to America, Henry said dryly. I see you’ve brought your precious plans. So do come in.

Colin was careful not to apologize for the outburst the night before, but it was difficult. He knew etiquette demanded his apology, but he sensed he’d lose respect from Henry if he did so. He clutched his designs and followed Henry into his study.

Roll them out here, Henry directed, stifling a yawn. He placed weights on the corners and stepped back to view the first design.

This is my finest work, Colin explained proudly as he unfurled the plans. I call it The Helios House. It’s not actually in progress, though, or even sold. Yet.

Henry said nothing but cast his eyes over the paper. Colin waited, and as time passed by, he became confused. Did he make an error in his calculations? Didn’t Henry understand what he was seeing? Colin couldn’t stand it any longer.

Well? he burst forth. What do you think?

Henry didn’t look up, but said, Yes, well, this is indeed amazing, Mr. Edwards, but I do have one question for you.

Colin leaned in expectantly.

If this is your work, why does it have Michael Callahan’s signature on it? And he brought his finger from the top of the design to the bottom corner, where it rested under Michael Callahan, 1889.

Colin was rendered speechless as he looked in horror at his own name. He’d forgotten to strike it from the print!

You are aware, Mr. Edwards, that stealing is quite a serious offense, Henry spoke.

Colin appeared as if in a daze. I... I didn’t steal it, he said, shaking his head.

No, I suppose Mr. Callahan’s plans magically leapt into your hands! Henry answered severely. An explanation is in order now, Mr. Edwards, or I shall have you arrested!

Colin stifled a laugh. You can’t arrest me, Henry.

Oh, can’t I? I can and I will!

Colin cut in. "You can’t arrest me because those are my plans."

Henry leaned on one palm. Do you take me for a fool? It’s all perfectly clear: you’re some jealous colleague of Callahan’s who took, he gestured at the topmost print, apparently his greatest creation, and ran off to Europe hoping to pass them off as your own!

Before Henry could react any further, Colin joyously clutched his arms. "It is my greatest creation! Henry! Permit me to tell you a bit about Mr. Michael Callahan. He smiled and lowered his voice. Well, he happens to... prefer the company of men, and he was caught in a compromising position with one by his father. Are you following? Good. He refused to hide who he was any longer, and so he left his family and his country for London. To start over. With a new name. He searched Henry’s expression, which appeared completely at a loss. Where do you think Michael Callahan is at this very moment, Henry? Colin urged. Those are my plans."

Henry blinked, incredulous. "You’re... you’re Michael Callahan?"

Colin smiled, shaking his head. Not anymore. Not ever again. In a pause, his smile turned to a frown. And I’ll thank you to keep the confidence.

Henry’s head spun. He stood back from Colin. But, you already had a solid reputation on your real name. Why would you give that up? Now you’re nobody.

Colin grimaced. It was my parting gift to my father. I thought I would save his name from any further tarnish. He regarded his work. "But when I strike my name from

those plans and sign it as ‘Colin Edwards’... He looked at Henry and smiled. Well then, Michael Callahan will become the nobody."

Henry was stunned with admiration. The boy truly was as captivating as he’d first thought. Or was he? Henry’s forehead creased. The young man I met last night... was that Michael Callahan or Colin Edwards?

Colin tilted his head. Why don’t you invite me to dinner tonight and you can see for yourself?

Henry nodded. Very well then. Come back at seven. Do you wish to leave your plans here? I assure you they’d be safer than in that hotel.

Colin moved toward his plans. Thank you for the offer, but the draft work comes with me. He rolled them up and bade Henry farewell.

Colin was so elated by the turn of events that it wasn’t until he was in his hotel room that he thought of Jeffrey. Or rather, his betrayal of Jeffrey. As he sat at his desk to start a letter off to his lover, he wrestled with his conscience.

I will only be with Henry until he gives me a job. Then it is through. And I can by all means do that in a month’s time, before Jeffrey arrives. After all, Henry is entirely infatuated with me already!

But Colin’s heart sank as he realized he was becoming no less infatuated with the rather alluring Henry Sewell. With shame, Colin realized that he wasn’t looking forward to seeing Jeffrey half as much as he was looking forward to this very evening and what

may happen with his hero. His hero, who wanted to see Colin again! With a sigh, Colin pushed forward with the letter.

March 25, 1891

Dear Jeffrey,

How I miss you! I must tell you the news—I have met Henry Sewell! You would have been proud—I waited for him outside the stage door while he was giving the lecture. I struck up a conversation with him and...

Then Colin stopped. How was he going to tell Jeffrey about his new name? Or that he showed Henry his blueprints already? Or that Henry discovered who he was? Colin decided none of that was necessary to share now. He would have to be vague.

...I will be having dinner with him tonight! I am certain he will hire me on; he seems very interested. I will let you know more details when I arrive back tonight. Your absence is a terrible void. I shall finish writing to you when I return...

Colin sighed and sat back in his chair, wondering how the letter really would end. He predicted that by this time tomorrow, everything could be very different, indeed.

This time it was 7:15 p.m. when Colin stood at Henry’s doorstep once more. Henry welcomed him with a mixture of anxiety and anger. You’re late, he said, clipped.

Colin raised an eyebrow lazily. Our line of work requires so much precision, Henry. I prefer to do nothing of the sort in my pursuit of leisure. He slowly led his eyes down to Henry’s waist and then in a blink, met Henry’s gaze.

Henry went slack-jawed and Colin admonished himself. Too strong! He gently pushed his way past Henry and looked about the room. Are we dining alone, then?

Yes, replied Henry, faintly.

Colin turned and smiled broadly at him. What are we having?

Henry shook himself from his stupor. Filet mignon, among other things. Allow me to escort you to the dining room.

Colin was struck by Henry’s gallantry, and he let the man walk up to his side. But when Henry met him, Colin could only gaze at him, eyes shining. Feeling he had shortchanged Henry thus far, he drew close and kissed him deeply. Then he withdrew and studied Henry’s face. We truly are alone, he confirmed.

Henry kissed him back ardently. Yes. Yes, he breathed, pressing against Colin.

With that knowledge, Colin began unbuttoning Henry’s vest, then his shirt, pushing him toward the divan. After a few moments, he moved down to Henry’s trousers.

Henry gasped. I thought you wanted to wait a fortnight.

Colin lifted his head. And I thought you wanted last night. So we shall compromise. Then he smiled. Besides, I just thought of a perfect way to prove to you that I really am Michael Callahan.

Sometime later, Henry finally led Colin into the dining room. Colin stopped in the doorway, awestruck. Two objects dominated the whitewashed room. First was the dining table itself. Made to seat six on each side and two on the ends, the rough-hewn thick table was made of lightly stained oak, and its top was bare save for the very center, from which rose a majestic, life-size set of stag’s antlers.

It is all carved from a single piece of wood, Henry said proudly, as Colin fingered several of the dozen sharp tips in wonder. The polished curves gleamed in the candlelight. Into the sides of the table were carved ornate flora and fauna. Vines trailed down the legs, and deer leapt across the edges. The matching chairs had grapes and vines carved across their tops. The furniture would have stood out anywhere, but Henry made it the only detailed object in the otherwise sparse space, with the exception of the magnificent work of art that hung on the wall across from it. Spanning the length of the table was a stained-glass mural the likes of nothing Colin had ever seen. In the center of the piece stood a peacock in swirling cobalt and emerald hues. His glorious tail fanned behind him while along the top crept vines of purpled grapes. Flanking the bird were marble balustrades, and the sky behind it all pulsed in brilliant sunset colors.

Oh! That is absolutely marvelous! Colin exclaimed, moving closer to admire it.

Isn’t it? It was done by a compatriot of yours, a Mr. Louis Tiffany. Have you heard of him?

Colin nodded. Yes of course; he’s an interior designer. I didn’t know he created glassworks.

Well, he’s just starting to come into his own in that realm, Henry replied. I commissioned it just over a year ago. Everyone else has Gallé; I wanted something different. You should have seen the thing when it arrived! It took hours to unpack.

I can imagine, Colin murmured, studying the glass.

Henry ushered Colin to a chair. You sit beneath it. Of course, normally I place guests opposite the piece, but this way, he went around the table and stood opposite Colin, now I can see both of my beautiful American works of art at once!

Colin laughed, and Henry pulled the cord to fetch the servants for their meal.

The two men conversed over three hours and as many bottles of wine. Finally, Henry gazed over his glass at Colin. Stay the night.

Colin looked confused. I beg your pardon? He paused. The night? You mean to say leave tomorrow morning?

Henry smiled. No, you must stay on tomorrow morning as well, so I can take you to breakfast.

Colin stared. I can’t stay here! My God, we’d be accused of being... well, you know!

Henry stared, then laughed. Mr. Edwards, until now you’ve given me no impression of the extent of your naivety. Well played! Colin reddened, but Henry was thrilled to discover the boy was so callow. Firstly, I assure you no one would even notice. Secondly, who is to say we didn’t merely stay up all night engaging in a fierce discussion about architecture? He smirked. As I recall, a young man came here with the express purpose to stop hiding who he was.

Colin tsked Henry. "So are you saying we won’t be up all night in fierce discussion?"

Henry looked at Colin’s teasing pout while tracing the rim of his glass. Fierce, yes. Discussion... no.

When Colin stirred from his sleep the next morning, he could barely believe where he was. I have done it! he thought triumphantly. I have spent the entire night with a man, in his bed! The shocking feat thrilled down his spine as he lay under the sheets. He felt smug. And why shouldn’t I have? After all, this is why I’m here. He remembered how he and Jeffrey would lay together for several hours, dozing off while in bed, trying to imagine what it must be like to wake up with another person beside you. And here Henry was, lying beside Colin, who was sleepily realizing the effects of the wine shared at dinner. He got out of bed to get a drink of water. When he came back, he found Henry with his hands behind his head, looking contentedly at Colin.

My pajamas are a bit large on you, but they fit well enough.

Colin laughed and sidled up to Henry in bed, who stroked his hair and then his shoulders.

Do you know, you’re positively warm to the touch, all the time!

Colin shrugged, smiling. I know. My family used to remark on that. I’m not sure why that is.

Probably because of your lovely golden skin, Henry murmured. I hate to think of how London will take away your American sunshine.

Colin drew back. What do you think I am, a frontiersman? I’ve always looked this way.

Amazing? Henry smiled. It makes me want to know how you’re going to pay for breakfast.

Colin closed his eyes and laid his head on Henry’s chest. You’ll have to start a tab, Henry. I’ve got a splitting headache and you’ve exhausted me from last night.

I’ve a better idea. Work for me.

Colin raised his head. At your firm? As one of your architects?

"Junior architects to start, yes."

Colin jumped up. I’d love nothing more than to work for you, Henry!

Henry chuckled. Wasn’t it your plan all along?

Well yes, Colin admitted. But I’m afraid my goal was temporarily sidetracked.

Henry smiled. I’m glad to hear it. All right then, get dressed and we’ll be off to Charlotte’s. He watched as Colin rose from the bed, and dizzily, he realized it.

I have a mistress.

The smile slowly spread across Henry’s face as the statement sunk in.

A mistress!

For Colin had proved to be heady stuff, and so far he was perfect for the job. But what was so far? A single night, that was all. Still, the added prize of finding out Colin was really Michael Callahan, who was truly a superb architect and in fact, his protégé, meant far more than Henry could have ever expected. Even if taken solely as an employee, Colin’s potential would be invaluable. The amazing Helios House he designed proved his superiority already to any of the draftsmen in Henry’s office. And when one added in Colin’s charm, looks, and sexual eagerness, well, Henry wasn’t a spiritual man, but he knew a sign when he saw it: Colin was meant for him. Now he would just have to wait and see if Mr. Edwards felt the same way.

When the two men arrived at the restaurant, Henry turned to Colin. Let me do the talking, he told Colin. You are not to say a word.

As soon as the maître d’ saw Henry, he beamed. Good morning Mr. Sewell! He turned and smiled at Colin. Good morning, sir! Colin smiled and bowed his head.

Good morning Arthur, Henry replied. I’d like you to meet my new junior draftsman, Colin Edwards. He’s come all the way from America!

Arthur bowed to Colin. Welcome to London, Mr. Edwards. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.

As it is yours, Colin returned politely.

We are positively famished, Arthur, so do please show us to our seats, Henry requested.

As Colin followed Henry into the restaurant, he was startled to see every head turn their way. After they were given their menus, Colin nodded to Henry, You’re quite the celebrity here.

Henry smiled. "Oh, no. You’re the celebrity. You’re the only one in the restaurant nobody has ever seen. Henry looked delighted with this apparent coup. He confided, By now, I suspect word has just gotten around who you are. Any minute Kenneth will be—"

Henry! You scoundrel! A short, stout man magically appeared at the table. The one new face in London and, naturally, he sits at your table! He bowed to Colin. And so elegantly, as well!

Henry gestured, Kenneth, this is Mr. Edwards. Mr. Edwards, Kenneth Fairchild.

Colin looked up to see a cheerful round face looking back at him, a face with two bright blue eyes, rosy cheeks, and a ring of fair hair around his head. Almost sixty, he reminded Colin of a small Saint Nick. The thought made Colin smile, and he exclaimed, Mr. Fairchild, well, this is an honor! I’ve heard so much about you!

Kenneth straightened. Really?

"Oh, yes. Your name came up more than once in the twenty-four hours that I’ve known Henry." Colin’s face blossomed into a sly smile as he looked at Henry and back at a shocked Mr. Fairchild. Then Kenneth’s face slowly bloomed into a smile, and he began shaking a stubby finger at Colin.

"You... you are not to be trifled with!" he chuckled admiringly.

Colin grinned and again glanced at Henry, who was as horrified by Colin’s immediate use of his first name as he was by Colin’s lie and his insinuation. Colin ignored him and pulled a chair back. Won’t you sit down, Mr. Fairchild?

Colin! Henry barked. Our waiter is here. Kenneth, if you’ll excuse us.

As Colin broke his gaze from Kenneth, the man came to his senses. Of course, of course! he apologized. Before he left the table, he bowed down to Henry’s ear. Well done! He’s quite the match for you!

After the two had ordered, Henry muttered, Your many admirable talents obviously do not include following directions.

Colin laughed. Well certainly you don’t expect me to play the part of a mute!

Henry’s mouth was a tight line. Until you know who exactly my acquaintances are and their relationship with me, I do.

Colin looked down. Right. Sorry. He realized he had assumed Kenneth was just like Henry and himself and that kind of carelessness could be dangerous, indeed. He snuck a glance at Kenneth’s table. Well, tell me about Mr. Fairchild, then. Who is he? How do you know him? And who’s that woman he’s with?

Henry waved his fork. His wife, of course. Anne.

Colin gasped. "His wife? Kenneth’s married?"

Do you see what I mean about assumptions?

Colin was mortified. Oh dear God, what do you suppose he thought of me?

At this remark, Henry had to acquiesce into laughter. All right, I give! Darling, it’s a marriage of convenience. You read him exactly right!

But Colin looked only more puzzled. But... then, he married her... to hide who he is?

Henry studied the face before him. Dear God, he’s so newly minted. He sighed and said gently, I’ll explain another time, Colin. Put it out of your mind and enjoy your breakfast when it comes, hmm?

They returned to the house, whereupon Colin asked for a proper tour. Even though Henry lived in the most expensive part of London, Colin still found his home to be quite undersized compared to what the man must be making financially. The house had three floors. The top floor was for the servants, as was the cellar, which was normal enough, but the first and second floor had only five rooms and four rooms respectively, ridiculous for a man of Henry’s wealth. There was no ballroom, no music room, no children’s rooms or nursery. Colin wondered if Henry didn’t have a second home somewhere in the country. As if reading his mind, Henry quipped, I’m sure you find it rather on the small side, but I wanted it this way. I’ve no need for a rambling home, what with just myself and the servants.

But, surely you have a home that is purely in the Sewell style! Colin blurted, and then gasped at his rudeness.

Henry laughed. You would think so, wouldn’t you? But I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had the time or energy to consider creating for myself. You’ll see how that works, my dear. For now, this has had to do.

Fair enough, Colin smiled. How many servants do you have?

Five, Henry replied. Charlie is my valet and butler. Millie is the housemaid and scullery maid, and Nora’s the cook. Then there’s Daniel the coachman and Mikey the groom. No need for a chambermaid, headmistress, or lady in waiting, of course.

Colin smiled. And I’d hazard a guess that Millie doesn’t have to dust or beat rugs often either. For as he had observed thus far, there certainly weren’t any of the usual Victorian trappings in Henry’s house. Colin was delighted to realize the extent to which Henry applied his interior design theory to his own home. To begin with, every room on Henry’s first and second floor was done in variations of only three colors: green, blue, and gold, and all the walls were white.

The colors of Greece, Henry declared, and Colin beamed, for he knew it; he had read so in his books.

The birth of true civilization, he asserted, causing Henry to look upon him in adoration. Like Henry, however, Colin disliked the mass perpetuation of Greek architecture into current times. Now make no mistake Henry, he warned, I’ll have nothing to do with the pillars of Greece, but the tenets are all very good. The clever statement caused Henry to laugh, and he drew Colin near and kissed him dearly.

You are precious and precocious all at once!

However, Colin said hesitantly. One thing I’ve always wondered is, how on earth do you keep the walls so white, what with all of the coal dust?

I take my lunch and supper out most every day, so there’s two less jobs for the stove, Henry replied, smiling. But of course, I must admit that Millie’s main job is to wash the walls. I have her do a room a day.

Colin gasped. A room a day! Do you tell your clients that?

Henry looked at him severely. Of course not! They figure it out on their own. If they ask, then yes, I tell them. But it should be obvious to you that with my design there is little else in the house that does need cleaning.

Colin blushed. Dear God, I forgot myself again, I apologize. You’re absolutely right—what difference does it make whether she’s cleaning the walls or beating all of the rugs and draperies?

Precisely. Henry eyed Colin. Any more critiques from Master Edwards?

Oh no! Colin insisted, chastened. You know I think you’re brilliant! Please, do let us press on.

On the first floor, Colin was presented with a formal sitting room on the right and a large library on the left. Colin had been in the sitting room last night, so it was the conservatory they entered next, in the southwest corner of the house. Four white wicker chairs were surrounded by numbers of fuchsias, abutilon, and citrus trees, with ferns and palms among them all. A beautiful bronze fountain burbled forth. Yet it was the aviary that caused Colin to exclaim in delight. Spread upon an entire wall was a large, gilded cage in which perched several birds. Two were yellow canaries, but the third bird was a kind Colin had never seen.

That is a Greater Bird of Paradise, Henry said proudly. My literal interpretation of the Rara Avis! It was as large as a crow but its color was russet and its tail was a magnificent yellow plume twice as long as his body. He’s for looks, Henry nodded. Then I have two canaries and two hermit thrushes for sound. The thrushes are shy. Perhaps when you’re in here reading, you’ll hear the male after a while; his song is like Pan’s flute!

Next was the dining room, previously visited, and then in the southeast corner was the smoking room. Again the same white walls, and again the scarcity of furniture save for four chairs and two sofas. By now Colin was onto Henry’s scheme and looked around for the superlative on par with the Tiffany and the Bird of Paradise. He was disappointed not to find it straight away.

Well, it’s a very nice room, but... he trailed off at a loss, and Henry brushed past him, chuckling. Colin watched as Henry pushed on the south wall and turned it ninety degrees. Oh, no, Henry! Colin gasped in disbelief. Beyond the false wall was a small second room! A settee, two chairs, and a table fit neatly inside.

I use this when I have more company than usual, Henry nodded. Isn’t it something?

Colin followed him inside. It’s amazing! Henry swung the wall again so they were fully enclosed. And yet there was light! Colin looked up and above him the sky came streaming in through an oculus in the domed roof that stretched to the top of the house. He laughed and clapped his hands with glee. Oh, I can barely stand it! Henry looked upon Colin, his bright eyes shining in the dusky light, and was tempted to make use of the private moment.

But Colin was too excited and so instead Henry took his hand and said, Now come to the library. He led him to a room full of whitewashed pine bookcases. Colin gawked. Only the very wealthy could afford so many books, for they were just beginning to be mass produced. In the middle of the library floor, two pairs of Biedermeier chairs faced each other, upholstered in gold-green velvet. But it was what lay between the chairs that caught Colin’s eye, exactly as Henry intended.

Is that an Aubusson rug? Colin demanded.

It is, Henry smiled. He knew it was doubtful an American would have ever seen one in person. But Colin was almost as interested in interior design as he was in exterior architecture, so he had at least read a little about histories of things like rugs. And now he rushed to examine this one. The weaving was so fine that the ribbons and flowers looked like oil paintings and the background like canvas. It was wonderfully soft yet delicately thin, for it was flatwoven. Colin couldn’t imagine Henry letting anyone walk on it.

There’s a Savonnerie in the bedroom.

No! Colin gasped, scrambling to his feet. But how did I miss it? Henry winked and Colin laughed. Of course. His eyes grew round again. How on earth did you get one?

Never mind that. Just make sure to notice it when we go up.

Oh, I will. Colin exhaled. To have both an Aubusson rug and a Savonnerie rug in one residence meant Henry had to practically be royalty. After all, Savonnerie rugs for many years couldn’t be sold by anyone but the King of France himself. There was little else in the library to see, save for the small tables between the chairs, the marble fireplace, several gasoliers, and a crystal chandelier, all very simple, expensive, and free of ornamentation.

Upstairs, they first came upon Henry’s bedchamber, and Colin raced to see the famed rug and kneeled down beside it. This rug was much more colorful than the Aubusson carpet, although of course, it did have the colors green, blue, and gold in it as well. There were borders within borders within borders, all latticed with intricate designs: flowers, crests, ribbons, leaves. It was less fragile than the Aubusson, being piled and therefore thicker, but it obviously took much longer to weave, as it had five times the design and color. It is truly a work of art! Colin breathed. The rest of the room he knew well, particularly the generously sized bed that practically overtook the room. The feather mattress was so thick that when Colin stood next to the bed it came up to his chest.

The bed itself was canopied in dark blue silk with heavy gold tassels as tiebacks, and arrayed on the bed were a dozen blue, gold, and white velvet and silk pillows in different sizes and shapes. These fanciful details surprised Colin, but Henry shook his head and said, "It’s the one place one should feel sumptuous." Even the connecting bathroom had a singular feature: a round sunken bathtub twice the size of the common claw-footed version.

But surely you rarely bathe in it, Colin had commented when he had seen it the night before. After all, it had a showerhead installed as well.

Of course, Henry replied. But there are times I want to recall the heated baths of Rome. Colin already began thinking of when he could try it himself. Unlike many people, Colin trusted the hot water pipes and happily lived with the risk that they could explode under the wrong kind of pressure. Currently cold water was seen as healthiest for bathing, but Colin hated it once he had felt the effects of a hot shower after a hangover.

Next was another bathroom and then the would-be-lady-of-the-house’s bedchamber. Both rooms were completely bare. But why haven’t you done anything with them? Colin asked, incredulous.

Henry shrugged. I haven’t been inspired. He smiled. Perhaps you can think of something. The idea was staggering to Colin: Henry Sewell allowing his protégé to design two rooms in his very own house! Which leads me to ask, Henry mused, if young Colin Edwards was to design this house, how would it differ?

Colin walked slowly around the room, steadying his breathing. I would keep everything the same, except I would install more windows. And I doubt I could master just three colors in the entire household the way you do, Henry. I love the entire palette and would have to use it, although in tasteful amounts.

I challenge you to design this bedchamber and bathroom, then, Henry declared, testing Colin’s commitment. "Only I’m afraid it must contain elements of only blue, green, and gold, seeing as the rest of the house is that way."

Colin broke into a grin. Challenge accepted. When can I start?

Henry smiled as relief overcame him—the boy seemed willing to stay! Not for another month. I want you to get very used to the environment and have some time to think about it, he said. But they are your rooms now, Colin, and I want you to surprise me, so you needn’t bother getting my approval on anything. You shall be given blank cheques to purchase everything.

Colin swallowed, unbelieving. Henry, I was only joking.

I wasn’t.

Really? But that’s... well, that’s most generous of you. Are you quite certain of this?

Henry moved toward him and tucked a lock of hair behind Colin’s ear. Yes. You see, I have this feeling you’re a Rara Avis too, Collie, and I want proof.

CHAPTER THREE

That evening, Colin stood in Henry’s library studying his collection. Henry sat and studied him. Colin, I’m wondering, how did you know I was... who I was?

Colin smiled. I did a presentation on your work in one of my classes. At the end, our professor said, ‘Well done, Callahan. Sewell is one of my favorite architects, and least favorite people.’ Colin cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. And I said, ‘Really? Why is that?’ And he replied, ‘He leads a wicked lifestyle.’ Colin’s eyes widened. "And I asked, ‘How do you mean, wicked?’ And Professor Schuren smiled and said, ‘Well, let me just say that he’d find someone like you very... attractive, Mr. Callahan. So you’d best take care if you ever meet him.’ The memory made Colin angry although Henry smiled at the comment. Can you believe it? Then everyone laughed and I just stood there, not knowing what to think. I was half ecstatic about the possibility that you and I were alike, and half livid about being called ‘wicked’. Colin looked at the floor. So finally I looked him in the eye and took a deep breath and I told him, ‘The Greeks believed it to be the highest form of love.’ And everyone fell silent and Schuren suggested that I sit down. Colin paused, catching his breath. He remembered Jeffrey looking at him in awe after the statement, and then smiling at him. It was when they had first guessed about each other. After I sat down, I realized I had to know. I had to be sure. So after class, I asked him. He said he knew you were that way because of some acquaintance of his in England, whose friend had a nephew you supposedly consorted with."

Henry rolled his eyes. That could be anyone, he said.

Colin shrugged. It was enough for me to go on. I figured I’d cast the line about when I meet you and see if you would bite.

Henry rubbed his chin. And I did, he chuckled.

Colin went over to him and kneeled down by the armrest. And I’m so glad, Henry! You don’t know what it means for me to know that someone like you, who is successful and influential and happy, is a person like myself.

Henry stroked Colin’s cheekbone with his thumb. You told a beautiful story, Colin. You are so brave, standing up to your professor like that. I wish I could have been there to see it.

Colin smiled. I wish Schuren was here to see us! If I ever was to go back, I would walk up to him and say, ‘I met Henry Sewell, Professor Schuren. And you were right about him... I have firsthand evidence!’

Henry laughed and looked affectionately at the young man resting on his knees. Colin, wasn’t there anyone you were fond of while you were studying at MIT?

Colin hesitated. Well, yes. In fact, you could say we found each other thanks to Schuren. Jeffrey was in that class with me.

Ah, he has a name, Henry smiled. You two must have had a history.

Colin nodded. It was all quite romantic, actually.

Henry raised his eyebrows. Really? Then I want to hear all about it.

Colin sighed and remembered back to autumn of last year, when the glorious time began.

Jeffrey Adams was a third-year at Massachusetts Institute of Technology who shared classes with Michael. Michael had noticed the dark-haired young man right away, and to his dismay, Jeffrey had caught Michael gazing at him several times. It made it barely manageable for Michael to look Jeffrey in the eye, but whenever he did, Jeffrey always smiled, for he had admired Michael’s talent early on; after all, Michael was promoted to third year halfway through his second, and with good reason. He had caught onto the theories and practices of architecture more quickly than any of the professors had anticipated. His ideas were full of innovations; some were unrealistic, while most were impossibly real. He won several student design awards each year. Some of the professors thought him too modern, but most encouraged his heresies. Jeffrey knew he was witnessing a legend in the making, and the legend was also the most handsome boy Jeffrey had ever seen. And because he also had an upper-class background, many ladies declared Michael the perfect catch. But as it turned out, pursuing a courtship with Mr. Callahan was akin to pursuing a puff of smoke. For once he found out a young woman had designs on him, Michael fell to such shyness and avoidance that a second attempt was futile for all but the most persistent. A certain number of ladies found his reticence an alluring challenge, but their boldness was met with a final brusque dismissal, a curt "No thank you, Miss X. His shocking behavior couldn’t go on for long without comment. During one such social occasion, after Michael had excused himself from further conversation with one Miss Maurine Higgins—the most upper-crust young lady in the room—a peer asked him outright: Callahan, are you mad? Do you realize how many of us fellows are falling all over each other to get to that one? Michael turned to him and said severely, Look here, Furlington. I’m going to be a Great Architect. I won’t let a woman get in the way of that. Not even Miss Higgins. You may have her. Thus the self-sacrificial declaration spread, causing some men to call Michael Narcissus" behind his back. He remained well liked but was decidedly eccentric. However, his eccentricity had more meaning to some men—including Jeffrey Adams—than others.

With only two weeks before the semester’s end, Jeffrey summoned his nerve. After Michael had presented his latest project to the class to resounding applause, Jeffrey approached him outside. Your design was absolutely amazing, Mr. Callahan!

Michael tried not to blush. Thank you, Mr. Adams. I... I think your work is quite good as well.

Jeffrey stood in front of him. But you could sell those plans to a firm tomorrow—they’re that extraordinary!

Michael laughed. Well, of course they are! He paused. But what I’m working on privately is even better.

Jeffrey frowned. Really? Why?

Michael looked at him thoughtfully. I’ll show you, if you’re interested, he offered, his heart beating wildly.

Jeffrey grinned. Absolutely! I’d be honored!

Michael nodded. I’m heading to my dormitory now, if you have the time.

Jeffrey fell in beside Michael. Well then, we’re off! He tried to keep from bursting. He was finally speaking to Michael Callahan! After all this time spent with glances and smiles, his forwardness was paying off.

Michael was equally exhilarated. If Mr. Adams was like him—and Michael thought he was—then maybe something would happen once they were in his room. What exactly it would be Michael didn’t dare let himself think, but his excitement showed in his nervous chatter as they walked.

When Jeffrey entered and saw Michael’s surroundings, he gasped. He had heard Callahan paid extra money to secure a room without a roommate, another reason for the Narcissus moniker. But now he saw why: Michael had transformed it into his own creation. The wood-paneled walls were entirely whitewashed, as were the strung-up Venetian blinds on the windows. Even the floorboards had been turned white, with an earth-toned Turkish rug thrown down in the middle of them. Though the room was meant for two occupants, Michael had left most of the space bare. His furnishings consisted of a bed, a drafting desk, and a royal blue velvet reading chair by the fireplace.

The bed sported a velvet coverlet that matched the chair, and its edges were braided with expensive silver thread. The drafting desk was huge and made of oak. The walled bookshelves were loaded with valuable books, which must have been from Michael’s private collection. Only a small space was left on one end for several bottles of liquor. Upon further study, Jeffrey noticed a row of well-tended tropical plants along the windowsill. Finally, a single print adorned the walls. It had been carefully framed and put under glass. Even from across the room, Jeffrey recognized it: a drawing of the Wyeth building, designed by the avant-garde British architect Henry Sewell. I’ve never seen such a room as this, Jeffrey breathed.

Michael smiled. He felt a bit embarrassed that he had made such drastic changes and wondered if Jeffrey thought him pompous. Yes, well, it was my first chance to experiment with the Rara Avis design. I assure you I’ve already caught massive trouble with the heads for doing it.

It’s spectacular, Jeffrey declared, and he meant it. He was a fan of Sewell’s Rara Avis movement as well, although he didn’t think it would ever be very fiscally successful in a broad sense. Most people would find this room barren, not freeing and focused, as was intended by its designer. But Jeffrey thought it perfect.

The late afternoon light was fading and Michael moved to lower the blinds and close them flat, hoping soon there might be a good reason to have done so. Then he poured two brandies and unrolled his drafts at the table where Jeffrey was seated. His hands trembled with excitement. Well, then! This is what I call the Helios House. I want you to just look at the plans first, to see how clear I’ve made them. Then I’ll explain the details, he said. He stepped back and sipped his drink, while he watched Jeffrey study the plans. Jeffrey’s expression went from studious, to puzzled, to surprised, to ecstatic. He looked up at Michael.

But, the entire house is circular! Do you think it can really be built the way you’ve designed it?

Michael tossed his head. Of course! It’s not the first time such a structure has been created. An explanatory session ensued, and at the end, Michael crossed his arms. You know, I’m really telling you too much, he teased. You could steal my idea. I’m planning to use it as next year’s final project.

Jeffrey shook his head. I could have never fathomed this, nor could I remember it!

Michael became emboldened and moved the large velvet chair next to his admirer.

Well then, since I can trust you, let me show you the best part. He took a second, smaller rendering out of the tube and laid it on top of the first.

"This is a study of the grand ballroom. You see, the windows are floor-to-ceiling. The entire bank of them will face the west side. The top half of the windows will be installed as two hundred