Harrison Patrick Jennings was the son of a millionaire. He ruled the house, while his father was away, and all the servants respected him without a single doubt. He got mostly everything he wanted. He was very intelligent for his age. His birthday was coming up soon too.
And yes, Harrison Patrick Jennings was only 3 years of age - soon to be four. Unknown to his mother and father, he also had an alter-ego, designed by himself, that he used for buisness purposes only. His alter-ego was named Charles Stevenson. The name being a combination of the author Robert Louis Stevenson, and the scientist Charles Darwin, both his favourites in literature and science respectively.
The only other person in the universe that knew of, and occasionally took part in, his plans, was his chauffeur. Ford, as he was known to all in and around the household, had taken at least twelve forms of driving exams, in different continents and languages, and could drive a Robin Reliant through a peat bog if you asked politely enough.
Ford wasn't getting any younger, of course, but being close to the young master made him felt so, and the thought of almost being old (at 50 - he was most certainly deluding himself) slipped away and became a distant memory.
As it happens, Ford was down in the servants lounge, playing a casual game of table tennis with one of the maids. It was quite obvious that the maid was winning, but he had insisted on not counting up the scores in the first place. Probably because he was rubbish at table tennis. Ford was much better at Snooker.
Within ten minutes, a small buzzer sounded, and Ford recognised it to be his own. A small light popped brightly on the screen, under Master Harrison's name tag. He put down his bat gently, allowing the Cook to take his place, and walked towards the door.
"Mmph, what a noisy brat that one is. I'm surprised he even knows how to buzz you, Ford." One of the older maids said, over the cards in her hand. The whole servant's lounge was smartened up with a ping-pong table, a poker table and a fairly large tv, set in front of black leather sofas.
Mr. Jennings was very kind to have provided them with all of this, having said at the time that 'servants were people too, of course' and 'they weren't living in the stone age'. He was indeed a gentleman, Ford had decided.
"He's more clever than you give him credit for, Sally. The other day I caught him reading one of those great massive books outta the library." Another piped up, waving her hands around in demonstration. Ford rolled his eyes, and left the room.
There were fifteen flights of stairs in the manor in total, if you included the main stairway. There were servant staircases all over, with secret passages allowing easy access to most of the rooms in the house. Ford knew most of these like the back of his hand (oh, how cliche...). After 5 minutes of stairs and walking, a side-door ahead was slightly ajar. He went up and opened it fully, to see the young Master Harry (as he was called by family and friends only) sitting neatly on the wooden desk.