The Deal ~ Section III
by Lise

The Begining
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Part Thirty-One

Saturday Morning

Elizabeth's car was there. James looked at it and Francis saw his glance. "She's home! She's hiding!" he cried with all the excitement of a child.

"I'd hide too if I had you on my doorstep," James told him.

"Maybe she's hiding another fellow," Francis suggested. "And he's now escaping out the back door." He made as if to run around the house.

James could not see Elizabeth do that. Elizabeth would not hide herself either. "Don't be absurd. It's more likely that she isn't home." But he did not know why she was not home and he looked like a fool, not knowing.

"Did you come straight from bed?" Francis asked thoughtfully.

"Yes. You woke me up with your childish theatricals."

"So she wasn't in bed with you."

It was the obvious conclusion, but James hated to admit that fact to this freak. "Apparently not," he said curtly.

"I'm glad she's got that much sense at least."

James looked offended. "I beg your pardon?" He did not agree that only stupid people would be in bed with him.

Francis was happy to repeat it for him with a wide grin. "I'm glad Lizzie's got enough sense not to sleep with you."

"Who says she didn't?" James exclaimed. Elizabeth had no sense at all and she had slept with him. Or the reverse, rather.

"Well, if she did, I suppose it wasn't impressive enough to make her stay." Francis waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

James clenched his fists and wished he was violent. Unfortunately he was not. "You've obviously never impressed her. Is that a sore point?"

"Not as sore as being in the same house and not knowing where she is, obviously. I'd never admit that to a stranger."

"You'd never even have the opportunity to be in such a situation." James' opinion of Elizabeth was higher than that.

"You don't even know where she is right now, so how would you know what she's up to? She's already leading two lives. She might have three for all we know. Her father doesn't know about you, I bet, so that proves she's good at keeping her lives separate. There might be things you don't know. You don't know me and you don't know how well I know Lizzie."

"Do you know Elizabeth at all?"

"I've known her all my life," Francis grinned smugly.

"So she doesn't love you," James concluded. "If you're still friends."

"Lord Bingo, old man, do I detect a slight touch of possessiveness?" Francis was amused.

James glared at him, but possessive might be the right word to describe his feelings. "And my name is not Bingo."

"Is bingo your favourite hobby then?" Francis inquired. "Quite an exciting personality, aren't we, Bings? No wonder Lizzie didn't stay in your bed."

James did not know what he might have done if Elizabeth had not appeared at that moment. She walked into her front garden with a bag slung over her shoulder.

"A beautiful woman to save me," Francis cried dramatically.

"Hello boys," Elizabeth said, wondering at James' predilection for answering the door with as little on as possible, although pyjama bottoms were to be preferred over underpants any day. "Showing off the body again, James?" And what was Francis doing here? She hoped they got along.

"James?" Francis asked accusingly, as if James had been spreading enormous lies. "He said his name was Bingo!"

James realised he had a tendency to say "Oh Lord!" at the most inappropriate of moments.

"Lord Bingo, as you hear," Francis said to Elizabeth. "He insists on being properly addressed."

"It might be true," Elizabeth mused. "He goes by several names already. I can imagine why he wouldn't have told me about Bingo." She giggled and looked at James teasingly.

James had not cared enough about Francis to attack him, but he swung Elizabeth over his shoulder. "What did you say?" What was she doing, making fun of him in front of this idiot?

She was afraid he was going to drop her and she shrieked. "Put me down!" On the other hand she quite liked it and so her protests were not very convincing. "What are you doing here, Francis?" she gasped.

"I came to eat breakfast here, but apparently more people had that same idea, or perhaps Lord Bingo here would rather eat you," Francis said in an interested voice. "He looks as if he's never caught such an interesting animal before."

Elizabeth shrieked again.

"I was telling this gentleman here that you weren't impressed by his amorous abilities, Lizzie," said Francis. "Because you left him alone before he woke up. He didn't want to agree with me."

"Oh, shut up," James said to him, still with Elizabeth over his shoulder, but not for much longer -- she was a bit heavy. "Don't bleat."

"James, put me down," Elizabeth begged, insistently patting his behind.

James bent his knees and set her feet back on the ground again. "That's not really the way to make me do it, but I'll be kind to you for once."

"Let's all go in for breakfast," She suggested.

"All?" James asked. Would Francis come in as well?

"All!" said Francis. "Me too! And don't leave in a huff, James. You don't want to leave me alone with this beautiful woman, do you? You might not be able to trust me. Hahaha!"

James scowled and said nothing. Elizabeth was crazy to invite this person in for breakfast.

"Go and put some clothes on, James," Elizabeth said to him.

"No." James was in a very contrary mood. Anything might happen if he turned his back for one minute. Francis could not be trusted.

Men were small children, Elizabeth remembered. Perhaps they had to be addressed as such as well. "Aren't you big enough to do it? Should Elizabeth dress you, Jamie?" she said, as if she were talking to a small child.

He glared at her as well and then looked away. Maybe it was not a bad thing, to be dressed by Elizabeth and it would ensure that Francis stayed away from her. "Yes."

"Is Lord Bingo mentally retarded?" Francis asked. "You're treating him like a baby."

"He wants to be treated like a baby," Elizabeth explained. "And he's not mentally retarded."

"You are," James told Francis.

"James…" Elizabeth placed the palm of her hand on his stomach and pulled his arm, trying to get him to turn around so he would go inside. She could pull at his arm, but nothing else gave way. "Fine," she said, letting go of him and giving him a punch in the stomach that only succeeded in hurting her fist. "As you wish. Both of you can stay outside and I'll have breakfast by myself." She ran inside and closed the door. James had keys now, but he would not be carrying them in his pyjamas. Neither of them would be able to get inside unless she let them in. That would teach them. Stupid men. They were not even men yet. They were boys -- babies -- embryos -- unfertilised eggs and they deserved to stay outside.

Part Thirty-Two

Saturday Morning

The two men stared at the closed door in absolute amazement. Whatever they had been thinking, they had never expected that Elizabeth would leave them outside and lock them out. James was the more stunned of the two, especially when he realised his key was inside and he had to rely on Elizabeth's mercy to get back inside. And at the moment Elizabeth did not appear to be particularly merciful.

"Well, Bingo?" Francis asked.

James preferred Bingo to Jimmy, so he did not comment on that. Francis could not be counted on to say Jamie, which was the family's abbreviation of his name, due to a James, Jim and Jimmy who were born before him. "That was your fault. Should I smack your face or what?" he asked.

"Preferably not. I haven't fought since boarding school."

Neither had James. "Perhaps it's time then."

"Be civilised."

"You probably don't know how to fight."

"And you do."

"Certainly." Well, not anymore, because James had last fought when he was about thirteen and that had definitely put an end to any bullying he had been suffering before, so there had not been any more need to fight.

"I'll just ring the bell and she'll let me in," Francis said confidently and pressed his finger on it.

"She won't." James felt pleased to see that Elizabeth did not react to the doorbell. "I told you so."

"She meant to lock you out, not me. She's known me all her life. Why should she lock me out?"

"Because you're an idiot," James replied readily.

"Who's wearing the pyjamas here, Bingo?" Francis looked him up and down. "It's far more likely that she wanted you out."

"I live here."

"I'd better ring the police to say that Elizabeth has a stalker." Francis got out his mobile phone and started calling a number.

James dove onto him to prevent him from making the call and they fell onto the ground. There was a struggle as they both tried to get hold of the phone and they rolled through the front garden, which was mostly grass, luckily enough for James' bare upper body.

Another fortunate thing was that the garden and the house were shielded from the street by a thick and high hedge, so no passers-by would see them unless they happened to be passing policemen who always paid special attention to make sure that nothing strange was happening around Elizabeth's house. And now there was a partially unclothed man fighting with an expensively clothed man in the front garden of someone who did not usually have men around the house.

"Gentlemen!" a voice disturbed the agreeable wrestling match. James was pretty sorry to see it interrupted.

Francis sat up and panted. "He's a stalker!"

"What is going on, gentlemen?" the senior policeman asked. There were two of them. They studied Francis' dishevelled appearance and James' pyjama bottoms with interest.

"She locked us out," said James. He looked less dishevelled because he was wearing very little.

"Because he's stalking her."

"I am not."

"You're under the assumption that you live here! Isn't that stalking?"

"Didn't I open the door?" James exclaimed with an irritated look on his face. "Will you stop talking nonsense?"

The policemen looked from one to the other. "What happened?"

"I was in bed," James began. "When he rang the bell for about five minutes. He was stalking, not me."

"You were in bed inside, sir?" the senior policeman asked.

"Beds are usually inside, yes."

"In this house?" the policeman indicated Elizabeth's house. What would a man be doing there? And in a bed, no less? The princess was not married as far as he knew.

"Yes."

"And you rang the bell, sir?" the policeman asked Francis.

"Yes. I came to see Elizabeth."

"And where was she?"

"She was out, or so he said."

"But you just said she locked you out," said the policeman with a puzzled frown.

"Yes, she came home when we were talking," James explained. "And she went inside."

"So she is inside now?" asked the policeman. It might be a better idea to ask her than to leave the explanations to these two confused fools.

"Yes."

"We'll ask her." The policeman stepped towards the door.

"She'll think it's him if you ring the bell," Francis said helpfully. "She won't come to the door."

"No, she'll think it's you," James retorted.

Elizabeth did not appear, even though the policeman rang the doorbell insistently. "It appears she's not home," he said. It did not occur to him that someone might ignore the voice of the law. "Your story doesn't appear to be true, gentlemen." He looked at them sternly. "The correct story this time, or we're going to have to take you down to the station."

"I told you the correct story," James said in annoyance. "Listen to me, not to him. I was in bed, he rang the bell, I opened the door, we talked, she came home and she locked us out."

"Of course -- she's afraid of him," Francis commented. "He's a stalker."

"Break in," James told the policemen. "She's in there. You'll find her."

"We cannot break in."

"I'll break in and drag her out for you so you can ask her yourself," James announced. He would climb up to one of the upstairs windows. Some of them were open.

"Sir, we're going to have to arrest you if you attempt to break into the house."

"No, you won't. She'll tell you I live here," James said confidently. He gauged the distance from the ground to the window. He needed some support halfway, but that would be easy near the front door. It did not cost him very much trouble to reach the window sill of the open window and he pulled himself up with some effort. It all went a lot easier now that Francis was looking. He was sure Francis could not do it. Then he hauled himself inside and looked down triumphantly. "I'll get her for you."

"Do you know this gentleman?" the policeman asked Francis.

"Never seen him before in my life. He says his name is Lord Bingo," Francis answered. "A bogus name if you ask me."

"Sir, we're going to have to arrest you if you molest the princess."

"No, you won't. She'll tell you I didn't molest her." James disappeared from view.

James did not make much of a noise, running through the house barefoot and he scared Elizabeth so much by running into the kitchen that she dropped one of the eggs she was holding. She had her wits about her, because she threw the other one at him. It broke on his chest.

"Guhhh!" James cried in disgust, seeing the egg slide down his chest and stomach and then onto his pyjama trousers and the floor. "What are you doing?"

"I locked you out!" she cried back. "What are you doing inside scaring the hell out of me?"

"You need to tell this policeman that I'm a bona fide person who lives here."

"What? Which policeman? What have you been up to? I'm not going to tell any policemen anything. I won't associate with people who have the police after them, nor with people who are idiots!" Elizabeth was a tiny bit annoyed with James and Francis. She hoped it did not show too much. "Leave my house!"

"Elizabeth…" James pleaded. He considered dropping onto his knees, but he reserved that one for if regular pleading did not work.

"No! What would they think of me if such an idiot turned out to live here?" she exclaimed. "No! I'm staying inside. What did you do, anyway?"

"I was wrestling with Francis. He told the police I'm a stalker."

"What?" Elizabeth erupted again. It happened very rarely that she was this annoyed. "What happened to the two of you?" They were acting immensely stupidly all of a sudden.

"I don't see how Francis could be a friend of yours," James remarked. "He's stupid."

"James!" Elizabeth broke another egg, on his head this time. "I've had it with you." She meant it. He was too much for her.

"Guhhh!" he cried again, completely stunned and feeling the egg drip over his face and onto his shoulder. It was disgusting. Was this Elizabeth? What had he done to make her turn into such a vixen?

She pushed him towards the front door. "I don't care if they take you, James. You're extremely childish. Grow up first." She opened the door and shoved him out.

James was too stunned to protest. He allowed himself to be deposited on the doorstep.

It was only then that Elizabeth noticed Francis and the two policemen. Her eyes grew wide in shock. She was misbehaving in front of two strangers. She wanted to sink into the ground and wished she could take James with her. "Is something wrong?" she snapped defensively when they stared at her, just as shocked. "Can't I even move my own stuff around?" They should not be interfering in what she did to James.

"I told you I lived here," James said, wiping the egg off his face with his hands.

Part Thirty-Three

Saturday Morning

"What is going on here, madam?" the eldest policeman asked Elizabeth. He was completely lost, but there would be hell to pay if he left these three nutcases to themselves, in case any harm should come to the princess, no matter how crazy she appeared to be herself. "This gentleman broke into your house and we can arrest him for it."

She held up her hand to silence James and Francis, gestured that they should stay outside and then beckoned the two policemen to come inside. "You keep your hands off that gentleman, if you please," she said warningly. She really had to clear up this mess, figuratively and literally, she thought as she nearly stepped on the eggshells. "Mind the eggs."

The policemen stepped over them and wondered what had gone on in here. Obviously the young man in the pyjama bottoms had been in contact with these eggs and they would assume that he had not been responsible for that himself. Therefore, it had to be this woman and women throwing eggs were generally in a foul mood. Furthermore, people in foul moods should not be allowed into kitchens, which were the most dangerous places of the house, because of the availability of knives. On the other hand, this was the woman's house and she had done nothing wrong, if she could do anything wrong at all, being a princess. So there they were, a little impressed by it all, even though she and her house looked very ordinary.

"Sit down, please," Elizabeth said. She felt very tired all of a sudden. "The only one who can get her hands on that gentleman is me, so you're not taking him anywhere. What are you doing here?"

"Ahh," the policeman noted. The case began to clear up a little. A love triangle appeared. "We were doing our round when we saw two men fighting in front of your house." Two men obviously fighting over a woman, who already seemed to have made her choice.

"Oh Gods," she sighed in disgust. "Why?" Why was this happening to her?

"Cherchez la femme," said the younger policeman in an awful accent. He had left all the talking to his colleague so far.

Elizabeth did not recognise this as being French, despite being a French translator. "I beg your pardon?" But he seemed shy and did not repeat what he had said.

"Do you know the two men?" the older policeman asked her. He studied her, trying to picture her with either of the two men outside. Until she had appeared he would have guessed that the neatly dressed man was her boyfriend, but now he was more convinced that it was the other one, the one in pyjamas, who could only be touched by herself. And not just because she had said so. She and the man in pyjamas both had the same kind of urgent and helpless look in their eyes, something the second man lacked. That one only looked bored and amused.

"Yes, I do. I know both of them, but they don't know each other. They don't seem to get along. I don't know what kind of problem they have, but I want nothing to do with it and that's why I locked them out." Elizabeth thought they might be killing each other now. She hoped James did not do anything.

"One of them said he lived here," the policeman said cautiously. He was not certain if he could believe that. It was the sort of thing one of the men might tell the other to impress him.

"That's right."

The policeman looked surprised. "So the man in the pyjamas, with the egg on his head, really lives here?"

"Yes, he does. I only accidentally threw an egg at him when he scared me by showing up inside when I'd locked him out," Elizabeth explained. "And then it was very easy to break another egg on him because he was dirty already. Will you arrest me for throwing eggs?"

"No, madam. In the privacy of your own home you may throw as many eggs as you want, as long as it doesn't culminate in domestic violence," said the policeman.

She thought about it. "No, it won't. He was just getting on my nerves by behaving like an enormous baby. What did they tell you?"

The policeman flipped back a page of his notebook and read the account. "One was in bed when the other rang the bell, they were talking, you arrived and locked them out."

"How did James get into the house after I locked him out?" she suddenly wondered.

"James is the cat burglar?" the policeman asked. "The one in pyjamas? He climbed up to an upstairs window. Which reminds me, madam, if you leave your windows open, anyone can get inside and not just your boyfriend. It cost him very little trouble to get in."

"Oh, I can believe that." Elizabeth remembered what James looked like. She smiled to herself and imagined him climbing in.

"Madam?" the policeman said with a discreet cough. He wondered why she had thrown eggs at James. The attraction between men and women was an impenetrable mystery.

"Yes?" she looked at him again.

"Will you be safe or shall we have a word with the two young hotheads?"

"Oh, please do. I'm really bad at having words with them. I tend to run away or throw eggs," she said readily.

"And will you let them in later?"

"I might as well let James in, since he can climb in --"

"Not if you close the window," the younger policeman offered and then blushed for having spoken up.

That had not occurred to Elizabeth yet. "Oh, right…I'm not sure, though…and as for Francis, he stood me up last week, so I might just send him away until he can stop antagonising James." Francis could be a bit annoying, she knew.

"Of course, madam." The policemen stood up. "We'll have a word with them now." They went outside and she began cleaning up the floor. Eggs were really messy.

The elder policeman looked at James. He had not bothered to clean himself, but sat on the grass giving the other fellow hostile looks. "The…" He did not know what to call her. "…owner of this house says you live here."

"That's decent of her, more decent than throwing eggs," James said sourly. "She didn't say she was going to throw me out?"

"No, sir. Can we count on you to behave from now on?"

"If you take him," he nodded at Francis, "away, you can."

The policeman began to wish he had eggs at his disposal. This seemed to be a tricky character, not at all safe to have around a princess. Why was the woman so stubborn that she did not have any security? "Could we have a word in private?" he beckoned James. "Well," he said when they were some distance away and he had taken down his name and address just in case, rather surprised to hear that James had only moved in the day before so he did not know the address yet. "Could I rely on you to behave normally to -- how should we refer to her?"

"Elizabeth."

"Could you behave normally to Elizabeth?"

James looked more and more furious as his helplessness grew. "S-S-She's the one who began throwing eggs at me. I didn't do anything."

Apart from behaving like a child, the policeman added to himself. "You had a disagreement with the other gentleman."

"He was being annoying. He didn't want to believe I really moved in with Elizabeth. Besides, I didn't see why he should come to have breakfast with Elizabeth," James admitted. "I might have been jealous."

"You might have been," the policeman agreed dryly. "And for no reason." The woman was all his. Or rather, James was all hers.

"No reason?"

"No reason. Did you fight with the other gentleman?"

"No, we only wrestled for his phone. Nobody got hurt."

"Thank you. I'll have a word with him now." The policeman walked towards Francis and took down his details as well. "I heard nobody got hurt." If this was the truth, he would give them a warning and he could move on.

"Apart from Lord Bingo's ego, perhaps," Francis shrugged.

"Is that Mr Stanton-Henley's title?"

"Mr what?" Francis cried in absolute shock. He remembered school and a skinny fellow half everyone's size with an impossible name that nobody had ever used. The boy had been a few years behind him. "The Terrier?"

Part Thirty-Four

Saturday Morning

After Elizabeth had cleaned up inside, she took pity on James, who would still be covered in the slimy egg muck. She went outside with a bucket and a sponge, feeling that she had to clean him, being responsible for making him dirty. They had all behaved like fools.

James was sitting on the grass. He said nothing, but eyed the bucket warily. No doubt he thought she was going to empty it over his head, which might be an effective way to clean his hair, but it was not what Elizabeth had in mind. She took care to show him the sponge and then knelt by him, starting to wipe his face, very gently because she was sorry for having thrown an egg at him.

"Does this mean I'm allowed back in?" he asked.

"I obviously can't stop you from getting in anyway." Elizabeth rinsed the sponge and moved on to his shoulders. She looked at him. He was looking back at her with that incredibly irresistible twinkle of amusement in his eyes. Had she been about to say anything? She could not remember, but she would tell him something else. "James, I --"

"The Terrier?" Francis cried as he came nearer, the policemen in tow.

"Do you always have to interrupt important things?" James asked in resignation. Elizabeth had been about to say something important. She was going to let him back into the house. That was for certain. He did not dare guess what that suddenly soft look would have led to.

"Are you The Terrier?" Francis asked.

"I believe some bullies at school referred to me as such," James replied coolly. He tried to remember if one of his bullies had been called Francis.

"You've grown bigger!" Francis noticed.

Elizabeth squeezed the sponge over James' head. "Don't tell me all is well now just because you went to the same school." She could have known this. She had worn James' polo shirt and seen the emblem, but at that point it had not occurred to her to link this to Francis especially, since she knew many more people who had attended that same school.

"It just might be," said James. That depended on whether Francis continued his bullying. But Elizabeth had given him that look and now he could deal with anything, even bullies.

"Of course!" Francis cried enthusiastically.

"Now I know why I always stayed single," Elizabeth remarked, sponging up what she had just squeezed over James' head. "Men are stupid!" They were stupid to forget their animosity the second they discovered they had gone to the same school. What did that have to do with anything?

"No escape now," Francis exclaimed with a snort. "You've been caught by The Terrier! He won't ever let go."

James rolled his eyes. "Do I have to live with that name just because of one instance?" And he did not know what to make of Elizabeth, wiping egg off him and then squeezing a sponge over his head so she had to clean him up again. Women were stupid as well. He did not mind, but still.

"It impressed the entire school."

Elizabeth was glad the air seemed to have cleared. She did not like conflicts and she really did not want them to go into detail, afraid that old feuds might be renewed. "I want to have breakfast. I'm hungry."

"Breakfast?" Francis waggled his eyebrows questioningly. "You've just thrown your breakfast all over him. So it's true? He really did move in with you?"

James had decided to stop wondering what was going on. He left it all to Elizabeth. He hoped she knew what she was doing, because he did not and he did not know whether she would like what he wanted to do, which was to kiss her right in front of that Francis. She leant towards him to whisper in his ear. "Why don't you take a shower right now? I'll try to convince these people that we're normal." Alright, he would do that, especially because she was rubbing his back as she spoke. He stood up.

Elizabeth talked to the policemen for a short while, sent Francis away and then went back inside. The coffee was ready now. Upstairs she could still hear the sound of the shower running, so she only poured one cup. She hoped she had come across as wise and sensible to the two policemen and she also hoped they would not report the incident.

When James came downstairs, dressed and with his hair washed and brushed, she had already prepared the garden table for breakfast and she was looking at birds, thinking about James. She could imagine how the curious Francis had nagged him, but if she had been James, she would have reacted more viciously.

"Are they all gone?" James asked. He had thought Elizabeth would invite them all in for breakfast.

"Yes, they're all gone." She held out her arm and he leant down to kiss her. That was what she had wanted, but she had not known he would understand the gesture. "Of course. I want to have breakfast with you alone."

"Oh." James did too, actually. "Are you still upset?" He asked, just to be sure, because her kiss had not felt as if she was upset.

"You behaved like an idiot, but that was because of me, so I might overlook it." Elizabeth smiled at him.

"Next thing you'll say is that eggs are good for my hair," James commented. He sat down, wondering. So Elizabeth knew, did she? She knew he cared enough about her to get into arguments with other men. Maybe he should have shown more spine, instead of allowing himself to be thrown out of the house with egg all over him. But he would have done anything she had ordered. It was that bad with him.

"Well, it looks very nice," she teased, running her hand through it. As usual, his slight awkwardness put her more at ease. It was very comforting to know they were both uncertain. "What was that Terrier-thing? He won't ever let go?"

James smiled self-consciously. "I don't think he will, no."

She rested her chin in her hand and stared at him pensively. "I suppose we'll learn how to deal with that eventually."

"We haven't begun learning the easy way," he commented. Some people might just have told each other, instead of requiring others to make it clear.

"We don't do anything the easy way. Egg shampoo would have been less messy." Her eyes twinkled.

James returned her smile and looked around the table. They were not having any eggs now. "I'm glad we're not having eggs. I'd be afraid you had scraped them off the floor or something."

"Or off you."

He grimaced in disgust. "What did you mean when you said you could move your own stuff?" he asked. "Did you mean the eggs?" He rather hoped she had meant him, but he was not sure.

"Well, if you take eggs to mean that men have less sense than embryos, yes."

James stared at her, replaying her words. "Er…I take it you think some men are stupid?" Notably him. But she had also said she would overlook this behaviour, so it could not really be bad.

"Mwah."

He thought some more. "I'm your property?"

That made Elizabeth blush and she played with her plate. "In a good sense," she said softly.

"I can't be," James decided after three minutes. He had needed that time to think and rethink and feel pleased and amused at himself. He had not thought there would ever come a time that he would feel pleased at being someone's property, or pleased at being cleaned in public, but that had been very nice.

That startled her. "Why not?" she asked anxiously, fearing and expecting all kinds of explanations of how he was already in love with someone else. He had been thinking for so long.

"Francis called me possessive. How could I be owned?"

Part Thirty-Five

Saturday Morning

James did not know when it had happened. He had been interested after her first note, but when he looked across the table now, he was far more than interested. It did not even feel strange to be sitting here with Elizabeth. His future wife, he told himself and then wondered if there was any difference between a wife and a future wife. "Don't you think," he said when they had nearly finished breakfast, "that making the decision to get married is more important than the actual wedding?" She gave him that amused look that made him feel as if he was very adorable, but also a little wrong. "Isn't it?" he asked anxiously.

Elizabeth looked up and down with a smile. If there was to be a wedding, James should look his best. "Now that you managed to trap me, I want the whole thing."

James considered that. "The whole thing includes a white dress and dream castle location?" He pictured Elizabeth in a white dress floating in and out of a beautiful house. He might like that whole thing, but they had a business deal going.

She nodded slowly. She had not considered those things yet, but they sounded very appealing. "Oh yes…and…a bridegroom in a smart suit…"

"Do you want that too?" James scratched his head. "That wasn't part of the original deal, was it?" Their business deal was in danger of turning into the complete opposite and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He would not be surprised if it turned out to be a model romantic wedding.

Elizabeth leant forward. "You got the money, I'm getting the baby. You get a legitimate child, I get a decent wedding, including bridegroom in smart suit. How about that?" That would convince him.

So Elizabeth was still aware of the fact that they were seeing each other for business purposes only. James suppressed a smile. Her business proposals did not sound like bad plans. "You're going to get a wedding so decent you're not going to want another," he promised her.

A little nagging voice told Elizabeth she was insane to be planning her wedding to someone she had only known for such a short while, but she ignored it and smiled broadly. "Because we'll stay married, won't we?"

"For the child's sake, obviously," James nodded. He knew how to disguise the truth as well.

What if she was not yet pregnant, she wondered. If she never got pregnant, there would be no reason to get married at all and what would they do then? If they continued in this manner, they would never admit to anything and nothing would ever happen. It was a bit distressing. "I'm going to do a really domestic chore to keep my sanity." She pushed back her chair. "You can read the newspaper."

Elizabeth went upstairs to do some laundry. For once she was not bored, because she had things to think about. After that, she glanced into James' room. He had thrown everything in haphazardly and it was a wonder that he could even get to the bed. But this could not be all he had. She checked the room next door and nodded. James had claimed that one as well for his belongings. Oh well. James could do as he pleased.

His attachment to Merscombe Hall was probably too great for him to move in permanently and she wondered what they would do once they were married. He might live in two houses, depending on whether he had a job, whereas she might be living here all the time.

It was too early to tell what they might do and she opened the window to look down into the garden. James was reading the newspaper at an immaculately clean table. James was an angel.

When she got back to the kitchen, however, she saw that James was no angel at all -- he had merely dumped everything that had been on the garden table on the kitchen table.

"I saved the dishes for you," he said, coming in with the newspaper. "I know you like doing them." There were several meals' worth of them still waiting to be done.

She grimaced at him and stuck out her tongue. "I'll do them tonight. I have to do my shopping for the entire week first."

James hoped he would not have to come.

Elizabeth did not pay attention to his unenthusiastic expression. "You should come with me, so I don't buy things you don't like."

"I like everything," he assured her. She should just go without him. There was nothing he disliked so much as supermarkets full of people who only shopped on Saturdays, some of whom needed even two trolleys.

"I'm talking food, not clothes."

"Same difference."

"You need to help me carry."

"How did you cope before?" As far as James was concerned this was a nonsense argument. She had coped before without him.

"I have to buy at least twice as much now, so I need to carry at least twice as much."

While that was right, there were so many more important things he needed to do, installing his computer, for instance. "I need to --"

"You need to come with me," Elizabeth said in a voice that indicated that she accepted no protests.

"People said I was impossible to live with, but you might be worse," he sighed humorously.

"I don't know why they called you impossible," she said seriously. "I think you invented that yourself."

"Why would I?"

"I have no idea. But you even clear the table!"

"And you even lay the table!" he mocked. "That doesn't happen often either."

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth asked guiltily. She rarely laid the table elaborately for herself, but how would James know?

"Many people just don't have breakfast."

"I've been swimming, so I had breakfast twice."

"Why didn't you take me?" He liked swimming and he liked it that she did too.

"If you don't want to come shopping, why do you want to come swimming?" Elizabeth asked.

James knew there was a possibility to say something clever, but he could not think of anything clever. He had to give in. "Alright. You win. I'll come with you."

"James, I think your problem is that you'd like to be impossible, but that you aren't."

"I think your own problem is that you're just as impossible, so you don't notice it in others."

"Me?" she asked. "Impossible?"

"I don't think we're qualified to comment on each other's impossibility," James remarked. "But you have to admit that you are…"

"Am what?"

"Nothing."

"What?"

"Slightly strange."

"Me?" she cried.

"Not to me, of course," he hastened to say. "But if you consider yourself in an objective light…"

"I don't want to."

"What would your father think of you?" James asked.

She stuck out her chin defiantly. "He would hopefully say he wants nothing to do with me anymore."

James regarded her silently. He could not believe Elizabeth's father did not love her and if you loved someone, you would accept what was best for them. He did not think Elizabeth wanted a complete breach either. She might be sick of his meddling, but that would be too drastic and it would only work if her father did not love her. But who could not love Elizabeth? James was not at all certain that Elizabeth's actions would have the effect she said they would have. But he did not know her father at all and he would just wait and see. It seemed to him that all that Elizabeth wanted was to make her own choices and see them accepted.

He was not afraid that after their marriage she would suddenly be called upon to do ceremonial tasks. Apparently Elizabeth had already made it clear to her family that she did not want that, because he could not really recall where he had last seen Elizabeth the princess. It was very odd to know that he would have seen her before without knowing that he would marry her someday.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked.

"Because I must have seen you before."

She shook her head. "No. Not me, just my image. You wouldn't recognise me without the hats and the sunglasses. I began to wear sunglasses at age twenty, I think. I wish my sisters didn't look so much like me, though. Even if people didn't think I was me, they would think I was one of my sisters."

"If it's any consolation, I didn't recognise you."

"Your grandfather did -- right away."

"That's because he has an extra-sensory perception for what he calls people like us," James mocked. "He can usually tell at a glance if you're below us or above us."

"I thought he might have attended some event I attended too, but of course I never pay attention to old men."

James was amused. "How…discriminatory."

"They all look alike," Elizabeth defended herself.

"I'm really pleased to hear that in forty years' time I'll have become so…unremarkable…that you might not even remember which man belonged to you, so you might go home with any random old man," said James in a sad voice. "It is really not comforting…to know that I might be left behind somewhere…"

Elizabeth punched him lightly. She had to laugh at the thought that all old men were exchangeable and that she would not remember which one was James. "You have forty years to make yourself stand out."

"And it's not really comforting either to hear that apparently I don't stand out yet right now," he continued in the same voice.

"Go shopping with me and you will," she promised him with a wicked grin.

Somehow Elizabeth knew how to get her way. James moaned. "You are mean."

"But James, if you really hate shopping you don't have to come," she said, suddenly serious and worried that was forcing him to do something he did not want to do. "I don't want you to do something you hate. It's just that…well…I'd like it if you went with me." She blushed.

James smiled. He liked that. "It's alright. If you go with someone you like." Now he felt he blushed too and he hated blushing, but Elizabeth seemed to think it was cute, judging by that smile. If she said so, he would tell her blushes only looked cute on her, not on him.

"All of your neighbours are actors," James commented after they had passed several people washing their cars, which seemed to be an infectious activity around here. He recognised two of them.

"Really?" Elizabeth sounded surprised. "Did those doctors on either side of me lie to me about their profession?"

"Heh. I've seen two actors so far." On a total of maybe sixteen houses, James grinned at himself.

"Two. Okay, all of my neighbours are actors," she said with an indulgent smile. "Do you know them?"

"Only by sight. You said hello to one."

"That was an actor? I thought I knew him because he lives in my street, but he might be an actor if you say so."

"He is." They passed a woman with a dog who said hello to him, another actress, but one he had worked with once. He said hello back.

Elizabeth knew the woman was an actress and she was amused that James almost seemed to know more people in her neighbourhood than she did herself. She did not know all of them, not having a dog or children. "Getting you seems as good as getting a dog when it comes to getting to know people," she commented.

Part Thirty-Six

Saturday Afternoon

It was inevitable that the two most meddlesome parents should come at the same time to see what their children were up to. Both James' mother and Elizabeth's father had reasonable doubts and concerns about their children's wellbeing based on recent phone calls and the Saturday was the perfect day to pay a visit.

Elizabeth and James were both carrying two bags of groceries when they returned and they were shocked to see the visitors waiting in the drive.

"Mum!" cried James the moment they came around the hedge.

"Dad!" cried Elizabeth nearly simultaneously.

Lucy was the first to reply. "I came to see how you were doing." At the moment neither of them was doing very well, since they were gasping for breath.

Elizabeth looked at her father so he could tell her what he had come for. "You sounded a little stressed over the phone," he said, giving James a suspicious glance.

She could see he was wondering who James was and she hoped he had not been here long enough for Lucy to tell him. "I did?" she asked, not knowing what else to say. She did not know how to explain her way out of this or how to counter any criticism. All she wanted to do was run, so she put down her grocery bags and went inside, leaving three baffled people behind. Or four, counting the detective accompanying her father.

James stared after her and frowned, seeing a parallel with that morning. Not again! He picked up the bags carefully and carried them to the door where he put them down again to find his keys. This time he would not have to climb in through the window. He had his keys with him now. "Do come in," he said. He was a little daunted by Elizabeth's father, but he told himself the man was here as Elizabeth's father and not as King William. This was not an official visit.

"How come you have the keys to my daughter's house?" William asked. He had always emphasised to his daughter to be careful about her safety and privacy.

"She gave them to me. A useful thing, considering that she has a tendency to lock people out if the situation becomes too much for her." James showed them inside. He wondered where Elizabeth had gone to. Upstairs, probably. He was not going to drag her downstairs. She would come when she felt like it. Or not. In the meantime it was up to him.

"You must be Lady Whittington's son," Elizabeth's father remarked.

James groaned upon hearing his mother being referred to as such. Why had she introduced herself like that? What else had she told him? He faltered under the older man's sharp gaze, feeling he was being judged.

William looked around himself. "I'm afraid my daughter has got herself into trouble again."

"Thank you," James replied dryly. The thing Elizabeth had got herself into most was him, actually, and he did not think he was that much trouble.

"Does she have a habit of getting into trouble?" James' mother asked.

"Yes. Where is she hiding?" He looked at James.

As if he knew that, James thought. "Do you want me to find her for you?" he offered politely.

"No," William decided. "Perhaps we'd talk more easily without her. She has a tendency to start crying when I speak to her. It has become completely impossible to hold a normal conversation with her. Her mother and I are very concerned. Perhaps, since you have the keys to her house and you're obviously a friend, you can enlighten me as to what is going on."

James was silent as he contemplated his situation. He could and would not betray Elizabeth's plan and yet that was all he knew about her relationship with her family. "I-I-I cannot."

William's gaze increased in intensity. "Do you mean you don't know or do you mean you won't tell me?"

James hesitated. "Both."

"You won't tell me what you know." William stared at him again. "Even though it's very little, it's always more than I know."

James doubted that. "I think she's more qualified to tell you that herself." It was not up to him to tell Elizabeth's father about it. He knew too little.

"But she won't."

"Then perhaps," James said a little more sharply, "you haven't tried hard enough to get it out of her." He certainly had not tried hard enough to place himself in Elizabeth's position.

"I shall wait until she returns," William announced.

"Then I'd better get you something to drink as it might be a long wait," James answered. He got up and arranged the drinks. "Why did you want to see how I was doing?" he asked his mother when he was seated again. His mother would be having a ball. She was as curious as anything and she would be delighted by this opportunity.

"Oh, you thought this was a perfectly normal week for you, didn't you?" Lucy mocked.

"Well…" James began, but then he smiled. "Not really."

"I had to know Damian could stay where he is now. I had to know you wouldn't be back to throw him out again next week." Damian was his brother who had taken over his flat yesterday.

"Damian can stay there."

"Are you sure? Because things seem rather tenuous at this end."

"Things are fine." Things were not, really, he mused. Things would only be fine if Elizabeth were here too.

"Are you sure?" William seemed to know whenever he was lying.

"No," James admitted.

William strode to the door and shouted "Elizabeth!"

James wondered if he expected Elizabeth to listen to that. "She's not going to come if there's any risk of you getting angry with her," he said warningly.

"She cannot do stupid things and expect people not to be angry or concerned," William said through clenched teeth, pacing the room. "She ought to stop being so overly sensitive."

"The thing is…she doesn't consider those things stupid," James said wearily. He could see how a father might call his daughter stupid for making deals with strangers, but stupidity had nothing to do with it. Or had it? He was not sure.

"And neither do you, apparently," William concluded.

"Some yes, some no. You have very little faith in her."

"I have a lot of --" William stopped pacing and turned around. "I have five daughters, but Elizabeth is the only one who gives me any trouble."

"Many parents would be envious of you," said James. "Isn't that true, Mum?"

"Quite. I'm sure Elizabeth is less trouble than you are."

"I meant --"

"I know what you meant," she interrupted. "Many people would be envious of him for having a daughter with so many good qualities. They wouldn't think of trouble at all. But such a thing is easier said than done, since you're not a parent, darling. You cause me all kinds of worries with your strange plans and some very odd people told me you were a model son."

"I am aware of my daughter's qualities," William said coldly.

"Does she know?" James sounded doubtful.

"Of course she does."

"I wouldn't bet on it," James muttered. "She doesn't exactly ooze self-confidence." Which would be one of the reasons why she was invisible at the moment. He hoped that she would soon realise that she could not let him do all the entertaining, for whichever reason. It would not matter why she would come, if she only came. She had come out again this morning too.

Part Thirty-Seven

Saturday Afternoon

Elizabeth was completely unprepared for a confrontation with her father and she had simply run away. It was very distressing. What had he come for? He said she had sounded stressed over the phone, but she was not aware of being extremely stressed. At the moment, yes, but not before her father had arrived. He had come too soon. They had not got far enough with the deal. She did not yet have enough behind her to feel strong.

But now she was leaving it all up to James. He would be having a hard time and instead of postponing one confrontation, she might postponing two. She was bad at confrontations. If you knew you adapted yourself to the other it was best to avoid them altogether, she had always thought. But at some point you grew frustrated with your inability to stand up for yourself and you had to take action before it got out of hand. Her frustration seemed to have reached that point now.

Elizabeth did not want to think about how her plans were defeating her once again. She would not allow herself to be defeated this time. She had a vague idea of where she wanted to go and she could still get there. Slowly she went downstairs.

They all looked at her when she came in, but they waited for her to speak. Inwardly she trembled and her heart beat very fast. The thing about having three two-seaters was that with three people all three couches were occupied and she would always have to sit next to someone. She chose Lucy as the safest option. Nobody would think anything if she sat next to Lucy.

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth apologised. "I was a bit shocked to see you here." She glanced at James very briefly. "Thank you for giving them something to drink, James."

James mumbled something. He wondered what she was going to do. Would she leave it at saying that she had been shocked?

"You didn't tell me you were coming," Elizabeth said to her father, trying very hard to be composed.

"I decided that at the very last moment," said William. "I thought you might be free on Saturdays."

Elizabeth did not know what to say to that. Her very fragile self-confidence was in danger of crumbling now that he had not even mentioned James yet. She had expected him to do so right away. What was going on? He was acting as if this was a casual visit. "Y-Y-Yes, I'm free on Saturdays. W-W-We'd only gone to the market."

Her father had not asked where she had been to, James thought. There was no need to tell him. He gave Elizabeth a drink and his mother looked at him appreciatively for some reason.

"How is your job these days?" William asked Elizabeth.

"Fine." She did not know what else to say about it. Her job was not what she wanted to discuss right now.

"Just fine?"

She knew she ought to say she loved it, or else she would be persuaded to give it up. "I enjoy it very much." That did not sound very sincere, but rather flat.

"I should hope so," said William.

James gave him a quick look. Nobody was talking freely. Everyone was under strain, even Elizabeth's father. Perhaps his mother was the only person who did not feel anything but curiosity. She would have no trouble talking to anybody, but she was making no effort at all to interfere or to help the conversation run more smoothly.

Elizabeth decided something had to happen to break the painful silence. "I want to have James' baby," she said suddenly. That had to shock her father. James, she realised now, was not shocking enough by himself with a mother called Lady Whittington. It would not be very shocking either if she said she wanted to marry him. Maybe only if he happened to be sixty-five.

William gave James another one of his unnerving stares. "Does he know?"

"Yes," James said with a polite smile. He did not know what Elizabeth was doing. Presumably she was trying her hardest to come across as rebellious. He did not know if he should pity her or love her for failing at it so completely.

"Good," was all William said.

Elizabeth was thrown off balance. Where were the anger and shock she had been expecting? She blinked. This revelation had not been enough. She had to give him more. "I might already be pregnant." That would be worse and elicit a stronger reaction. Her father only looked at her and she racked her brains for something else to say. "And we're not married," she added. That would surely upset him.

James was very attentive to the exchange. He could not help but feel that something was going in a direction Elizabeth did not want it to go. She had misjudged the situation once again. It was not likely that her father would burst out in anger in private if he held himself so well in company. It was very unlikely.

"And we might not get married at all," Elizabeth said when her father still did not say anything. He only looked at her pityingly as if this was the stupidest scrape she had ever got herself in. Pity was not what she wanted. Or was it? "Why aren't you saying anything?" she demanded, feeling very uncertain.

"What can I say?" William said in a resigned voice.

"Well, you're never going to want to see me again. I know that."

James saw where this might lead and he did not think he could stand emotional discussions. "Excuse me," he said quickly and went into the kitchen. He would do Elizabeth's dishes. What else could he do?

"At least one of us is sensible here," Elizabeth's father commented.

"I know I am not. I know I am none of those things everybody wants me to be." Elizabeth was already half crying.

Her father held up his hand. "I don't want to hear this again."

"Of course not. You never do." It did not come out very coherently anymore.

"We are not alone, Elizabeth. I don't know what you're doing."

"See?" she cried. "I'm doing it all wrong again." She did not know what she was doing either, because she had realised that she did not want him to tell her he never wanted to see her again. She could not even bear to hear that he never wanted to hear these things again.

Part Thirty-Eight

Saturday Afternoon

"Elizabeth, would you please calm down?" her father asked, looking a little desperate. "She has in abundance what her sisters lack," he said to Lucy.

The thought that her sisters lacked something was new to Elizabeth. She calmed down to a sniffle. Her perfect sisters could not be lacking anything.

Lucy was not sure what the sisters lacked. Perhaps they never cried. From what she had read about them she could not imagine them crying.

William had decided to speak to Lady Whittington because Elizabeth was impossible to talk to at the moment. "She's the one who takes most after my wife. The other four take more after me in certain ways."

Elizabeth knew that, but failed to see the significance. It was probably a bad thing. You liked what was like you. Or not? Did she like her mother better than her father? They were different and she could not tell.

"Forgive me for asking, but do you have problems with your wife as well?" Lucy asked politely. She had never read anything about that.

"Never," William emphasised.

"Nobody could have problems with Mum," said Elizabeth morosely. "Not even you." Her mother was too gentle and calm to offend or take offence and even if she did, she would brush it away and consider it her own fault.

"She doesn't imagine problems the way you do," her father answered.

"Oh dear," said Lucy sympathetically. This conversation was in grave danger of turning into a tearful argument. She had to prevent that from happening. "But the girl is in love. People in love do strange things."

Elizabeth did not see the point of denying anything when James was not present. "How do you know?"

Lucy laughed. "Call me a proud mother, but I don't see how a girl could not fall in love with James," she exaggerated. James had as many quirks as the next man, but still. For William's benefit she added something else. "But of course all parents dote on their children and find it hard to accept that others do not."

That was exactly the sort of thing her father would never say, Elizabeth thought. She flexed her fingers and plucked at her clothes.

"Is he your only child?" William inquired. He knew that comment had been directed at him and he tried to keep his face blank. Elizabeth was not in the mood to accept either possible answer and fortunately she was not looking, but Lady Whittington was and she was uncommonly perceptive.

"No, I have seven sons."

"Is he your eldest?"

"I always find it suspicious if prospective fathers-in-law ask that about one of my boys and I shan't answer," Lucy said charmingly. "It's not at all relevant to the way he treats your daughter." Only one of her sons was the eldest and anyway, given the average life span of a Stanton-Henley, all prospective fathers would long be dead by the time this eldest son became Lord Merscombe.

"I don't even know that either," Elizabeth spoke up.

"See? And she's having his child anyway."

"Are you pregnant or was that a threat?" William studied Elizabeth carefully.

"It was not a threat. I might be pregnant."

"Who is going to raise the child?" her father asked.

"Me." She was sure he was going to say something about nannies.

"You work too much."

"I'll work less."

He looked at her doubtfully. "You'd work less for a child when you refuse to work less to attend family gatherings?"

"Yes. You know I hate family gatherings."

Yes, he knew that. The topic had been brought up many times before. He wondered about the family Elizabeth wanted to create. "What about James?" James had not struck him as the type who would turn his back. He had got them drinks too.

"James doesn't want illegitimate children," Elizabeth had to confess.

"What does that mean?" That he did not want to give her one or that they would marry? James sounded like a very decent sort of young man.

"That he insists on marrying me," she said reluctantly. Had she first wanted to tell him all of this, now she was beginning to worry about it. She did not know if she wanted him to become angry with her anymore.

"He insists on marrying you? What a sacrifice for just one night," William commented. "Or is he getting something you haven't told me about?" It was all a bit confusing. Why were the two of them doing that when they obviously did not need children to prompt them to get married?

"I'm saving his family's house."

He waited a few seconds before he spoke. "That sort of arrangement is a bit outdated nowadays." And it still did not end his confusion.

"Why aren't you angry about it?" Elizabeth had to ask. She was puzzled by the way he calmly accepted her story. It confused her.

He frowned at her. "Had you wanted me to become angry?"

"I had expected you to."

"Why?"

"Because you're supposed to be shocked. It's shocking. It's supposed to be, because…I want out of the family."

Even that did not have the desired effect. William did not look surprised or shocked. "Oh Elizabeth," he sighed with a shake of his head. "I'm going to have to think about this."

Lucy placed her hand on Elizabeth's arm. "Why don't you go and talk to James?" she suggested, wanting a word in private with Elizabeth's father.

Part Thirty-Nine

Saturday Afternoon

"I don't want to talk to James." Elizabeth was afraid of what James might say. "He ran away, so…" He had run away, so he did not want to hear any more. He would not like it if she came to talk to him. He might run away another time.

"James won't say anything if you don't," Lucy assured her, wanting Elizabeth to leave them alone. Her presence would only distract her father and prevent him from speaking openly. "James wouldn't upset you deliberately. Go and talk to him."

Elizabeth left, still frightened, but she usually did what she was told and she believed James' mother would know him better than she did.

"I like Elizabeth," Lucy began after a moment's deliberation. Where should she start? She was planning to make William talk. "She's a nice girl. Are all your daughters like this?" She was pretty sure they were not. From what she had read, the eldest two were spoilt and demanding.

"No," William replied slowly. "The ones closest to her in age are very different." This would never happen to them. They never messed anything up and they would certainly be a lot more direct.

"But they aren't necessarily better."

"No." Some of his daughters did not have very admirable character traits. His eldest daughter had not liked receiving less attention than the twins who followed her in age and who were not even identical, but still cute because they were twins. She always needed a personal companion who looked up to her and she had claimed a younger sister for the purpose. He had only discovered this when it was too late. He was also fairly certain that they sided against the other twin, but they had always denied it and he had never caught them.

"Why did Elizabeth think you'd be angry and why aren't you?" Lucy decided to be bold. She was sure he did not come across boldness too often, but this was a parent-to-parent chat. Who cared what his profession was?

William looked away. He did not really know what to do with such direct questions. "This is not the real problem. If I become angry, I'll never find out what the root of the problem is. I might have become angry," he mused, "if she had sprung this news on me in another way. I've been wondering what was going on ever since we saw them come into the drive. If she had told me she might be pregnant without showing me the culprit first, I might have become very angry indeed. That might have been her plan for all I know, but the way she announced it now it completely missed its purpose. She cannot show me her eminently suitable-looking boyfriend and then expect me to be very shocked upon hearing she's slept with him. A boyfriend is not quite the same as a one-night stand."

Lucy was pleased to hear James was eminently suitable-looking, but she was surprised at William's relaxed attitude. "But she might become an unmarried mother."

"I don't think so." He could not believe it, certainly not after seeing her with a man. Elizabeth was a serious girl. She did not fool around.

There was no telling what Elizabeth might do under enough pressure, Lucy thought. "She might have become one in order to reach her goal, to be disowned."

"That's the real problem," he nodded. "Why does she want to be disowned?"

Lucy was curious too. "She hasn't really explained that."

William did not really understand where this problem had suddenly some from. Elizabeth had never been this desperate. "For years she's been content to live quietly. Why can't she continue? Why does she have to be radical all of a sudden?"

"She did say she feared she would have to marry a German," Lucy ventured. But that was all she knew and she did not know if it had anything to do with the situation. It was probably only a small factor.

"If I could make my daughters marry people, they would all be married already," William commented. "The youngest is twenty-three. I cannot force them to get married. There was never any question of Elizabeth marrying Karl-Heinz. He was only a potential candidate for a ball. I have to provide her with candidates because she refuses to look herself and she really has to attend this ball. It's more or less a family thing. People are going to start wondering if one of my daughters doesn't attend."

"She's got a problem with something, though," said Lucy. "Notably with her self-confidence."

"Have you met her before or was this the first time?"

"James brought her home on Wednesday night after having informed me of their plans that afternoon."

"And were you angry?"

Lucy smiled. No, she had not been angry. "James would never agree to such an arrangement if he wasn't deeply impressed by the girl in question. But he'd also never admit to being deeply impressed after knowing her for only two days. He believes there has to be logical explanation for everything and he can't explain this. Other people might just admit that there was a attraction between them, but these two keep inventing rational arguments to spend another day together."

"And more arrangements?"

"Precisely. Which makes this very simple. James is fairly easy to manipulate. I won't ask him if he loves her. I'll just ask him if it isn't a good idea to have two children instead of one so they can play with each other. Things like that." She laughed.

"James is not…stupid…is he?" It all sounded a bit too simple to Elizabeth's father. James had to know he was being manipulated.

"Not at all. He's only afraid. Would it be as easy to manipulate Elizabeth?"

"Possibly. If that is what I wanted."

Lucy looked at him reflectively. "I'd be quite offended if you said you wouldn't like James for a son-in-law."

"And you do want Elizabeth for a daughter-in-law?"

"Well, she is James' choice. I'll have to accept her," she said in resignation, trying to elicit some reaction. She could not tell him to talk to Elizabeth if he did not let on that he cared for her, otherwise it would hurt the girl too much.

It worked. William stared at her. "You said you liked Elizabeth."

"Liking her is not the same as wanting her for my son." And now defend her, Lucy told him silently. "She might have nasty personality traits that haven't surfaced yet and that would never surface in superficial contacts."

"Elizabeth doesn't have any nasty personality traits," her father protested. He was not used to being talked to in this manner, nor to have his daughter's qualities doubted.

"Are you sure?" She raised her eyebrows. He was protesting alright, but not yet as defensive as he could be.

"Of course I'm sure. She's my daughter."

"Are you sure because she's your daughter and she cannot have any vices or because you know her?" There was a difference and no small one either.

"Because I know her. Why are you questioning that?" William already sounded less polite.

Lucy smiled at him sweetly and shrugged. She was on the right track.

Part Forty

Saturday Afternoon

"Do you do this for all your sons?" William asked. Nobody could have the energy for that. Seven sons, she had said. Would she be meddling in all those lives?

Lucy laughed. "Fortunately they don't fall in love at the same time. They're not the same age either. Don't you show a little concern for your daughters now and then?"

"My daughters don't need help."

"This daughter will manage on her own too, certainly, but I'm not sure it will make her happy."

"And how would you know?"

"Because she's never going to get rid of that problem on her own," Lucy predicted.

The woman had seven sons. What would she know about girls? "Do you have any daughters?" William asked.

Rather than accepting her advice, he chose to be stubborn. Lucy sighed. "No, I don't have any daughters. We kept trying, but after our seventh son we gave up. It doesn't matter. Children are children, whether they are boys or girls."

"Doesn't your son have a problem too? He's agreed to marry a woman he doesn't even know."

"Of course he's got a problem," Lucy said cheerfully. "But you've known her for longer, so her problem with you must be solved first. You should be the first one to tell her you love her. James can do that later."

"I don't know why you think you should tell me what to do," William said, pressing his lips together.

"I'm not telling you. I'm advising you, but of course you know your daughter best," Lucy said innocently. "However, if you refuse to tell your daughter you love her because she's a nasty piece of work, I'd like to know, because then I'm going to take my James out of here."

William looked as if he did not believe that was possible. James was a grown man who would not listen to everything his mother said. "How old is he exactly?"

"Old enough not to come with me, of course."

William gave her a strange look. "What do you want?" The woman made no sense, but women rarely did.

"I just want to stick my nose into everyone's business," Lucy said with a charming smile. "In case you hadn't noticed yet."

"Elizabeth doesn't like people sticking their noses into her business."

"Then the poor girl should act a little more self-assured. She needs the right kind of attention."

"From you?"

"Well, she does have some funny ideas that might be the result of her upbringing."

"Such as?"

"She told you she wanted to get pregnant, but she didn't tell you how. She meant to take James to a fertility clinic to have it done artificially. Maybe this is a royal habit, but it comes across as rather odd."

To be honest, William thought it rather odd as well, but he would not call his daughter odd in front of a stranger. And Lady Whittington would be a stranger, especially if James might not be Elizabeth's boyfriend at all. "You have no right to call my daughter odd. She's a princess. She's different."

Lucy laughed at him. "You know that is nonsense."

Elizabeth had gone into the kitchen and found James doing the dishes. He had looked at her searchingly -- to see if she was crying -- but said nothing. She had not said anything either. There seemed to be a block in her mouth that did not allow anything to pass. She had simply dried the dishes. At least James had not seemed to be angry with her.

"Maybe we should find out what our parents have been up to," James suggested when they had finished. They had obviously been up to some talking, knowing his mother.

"Do we have to?"

"Yes, we have to. I know you're wondering about it."

"I am."

"Then we really have to."

"Don't you think I handled this stupidly?" Elizabeth asked.

"You phrase your questions incorrectly," James said stoically. "You should use more positive terms." She should start on the positive side. Maybe he would answer her then.

"But I know I handled this badly," she protested.

"Whatever. You're going to stop handling this now, alright? So you'll have no one to blame but me. Be a good little woman and shut up and look decorative," he said decisively.

Elizabeth gasped incredulously. "That is…"

"Male chauvinism at its best," James shrugged with a grin. "I did your dishes, though. I can't be too bad."

"Yes, you're wonderful," Elizabeth said dryly. "But you're taking over?"

"Yes, I'm taking over." So far he had only spoken three words after Elizabeth's return: yes and excuse me, but he had more interesting things to say. "If you'll let me?" He did not count on Elizabeth protesting against any suggestion yet, but a person never knew.

"Yes, of course." She was grateful that someone was taking over.

James had his hand on the door to the living room and he looked over his shoulder for the last instructions. "Okay, well…there we go…let me do the answering unless I ask you something."

"How do you know I'll agree?"

"That's the risk I'm taking. I'll be looking at you, so don't sit next to me."

"But I was going to do that." He was the only person she was more or less certain of.

He smiled at her. "You can do that later. I have no plans for this evening." He opened the door.

Elizabeth followed him and since he sat down next to his mother, she sat on the free two-seater. This way she could look everybody in the face. She wondered if that had been James' intention.

"Listen, Elizabeth," said her father. "Are you going to invent some excuse for other people as to why you're marrying James? Inventing that you fell in love with him or something of that kind?"

Elizabeth looked at James. He was taking over -- he should answer. She was surprised by the question and actually she was glad she did not have to reply to it herself.

"I suppose we should, because I'd hate to have to answer questions all the time," said James.

Especially, Lucy thought, since you would not be able to produce a convincing denial.

"But hang on," James continued. "Why aren't you upset?" It was obvious that Elizabeth's father was not, but he did not understand why not.

"I've heard stranger things," William answered. "And it will be good for Elizabeth to get married finally. I'm going to have to recycle her ball partners soon."

James agreed completely. "Of course. Even if her husband can't dance, she won't be allowed to have another ball partner." But he still could not fathom Elizabeth's father.

Elizabeth only looked more and more bewildered as they continued discussing that problem very seriously.

Part Forty-One

Saturday Afternoon

Elizabeth did not understand it. Her father seemed to be getting along with James. She watched it in surprise for a while and then realised it was not a bad thing. She should be happy about it -- if she forgot about breaking with her family. She did not want to break. Elizabeth inhaled deeply and sat down next to her father. The closer she was to him, the more likely she would be to say something. The first step had been taken, although she did not know yet what she was going to say.

William stopped speaking and looked at her expectantly. She was looking very anxious.

"No, no. Go on," Elizabeth gestured. She had to think of something first. "I'll wait. James forbade me to speak anyway."

"James is full of rubbish," was the king's verdict.

"No, he's not!" Elizabeth protested.

"I was wondering who'd be the first to react," said William, glancing at Lucy who raised her glass at him. He could do what she did too -- insult someone to see who defended that person. "I'm glad it wasn't James himself."

James knew he had been talking nonsense most of the time and he grinned. Talking about the advantages of having a husband when it came to balls could not be considered sensible talk. "But thank you, Elizabeth."

"I'm confused," Elizabeth complained softly. There appeared to be some double meanings that were clear to others but not to her.

"If he had replied," her father answered just as softly, "he would have marked himself as a fool."

"Why?" she whispered.

"Because he wouldn't have known he was talking rubbish and nothing is as irritating as people who don't know they're talking rubbish."

"So…" Elizabeth stared at James in fascination. He could not hear them. "Were you lying or did he know?"

"He knew."

"Is that…good?"

William realised his good opinion mattered to Elizabeth, or she would not have asked. Maybe he had not given it often enough if he realised that only now. He put his arm around her shoulders in an impulsive gesture -- to buy time -- and thought.

Elizabeth waited. Contrary to some other people, he would not do this to cushion the blow. Something good was coming.

"You don't have to be afraid of my reaction," her father whispered. He thought some more. "I've had my reservations in the past…" And he had expressed them too, but his fears and worries had always been ungrounded. Everything had always come out right. "But you've always proved that your decisions were right. I suppose I should have realised that and told you."

Elizabeth hid her face against his coat and she did not even hear James say he would get more drinks. This was so good and she would rather have people guess than show them it truly made her cry. "But you still haven't told me what you think of James," she whispered after a few minutes.

"I think he's a good kind of idiot," William whispered back. "But don't let his mother hear me. She's a little protective."

But Lucy could of course not hear a thing. She was even kind-hearted and considerate enough not to remind them of the fact that whispering in company was extremely impolite.

James returned with the drinks and if this had not been Elizabeth's father, he would have been jealous, but now he realised it was crucial and he told himself they had the rest of the weekend to spend together. It was not that he wanted their parents to leave, but he might start wanting that if they were still here at this time tomorrow. Or perhaps even a little earlier than that.

William called someone on his mobile phone. "I'll be late. I'm visiting my daughter." That was all he said and apparently it was enough.

"Are you late for something?" Elizabeth asked. That was impossible. Her father was never late for anything.

"A foreign politician, Lizzy." This was spoken slightly disdainfully, as if foreign politicians deserved to be kept waiting. Usually that was the case too.

"Not an important one, I hope." Elizabeth knew he spelt her name 'Lizzy' and not 'Lizzie' like Francis did. She could somehow hear the difference.

It was an important one, but such classifications were all relative. This one would not expect to be kept waiting, but he would just have to get used to it. "Priorities, Lizzy. Priorities." At this moment politicians came last.

Right now Elizabeth was a priority and she felt happy about it.

"Elizabeth," he said suddenly. "I agree with James that you should get married."

"Don't you have some castle we can use?" James asked. "Since it's probably her only wedding ever, Elizabeth wants to get married in a castle."

"I know plenty of castles here and on the continent. Just tell me when."

"Well…" said James, looking at his intended. "I don't really mind, but it's up to Elizabeth whether she wants to get married being her ordinary size or not."

"Whatever you like, James." It did not matter to Elizabeth. "I should probably try to be really pregnant by then so it won't be televised."

"Lizzy," her father said. "That is just the sort of thing to be televised because it will attract viewers. You are thinking of the wrong kind of people."

"If I were a TV boss, I'd be hoping you'd go into labour during the wedding ceremony," James added.

"But as my wannabe husband, you won't be hoping that. You'll be telling me to keep it in because you don't want illegitimate children."

William was surprised at the ease with which they talked about such subjects. There was no love at first sight involved in this deal, of course not. Love at first sight probably did not even exist, as far as they were concerned.

Part Forty-Two

Saturday Afternoon

William watched the smiles and the way their eyes lit up when they looked at each other. It almost made him want to roll his eyes, given the roundabout way they were taking. Elizabeth had practically admitted her feelings, but James had not. However, even to a stranger James' partiality to her was obvious. Maybe they would only find out about each other once they were married. Or when they had a child, but she worked too much for that. "Will you make Elizabeth stop working?" he asked James.

That was too important a matter for James to speak about without thinking first, so it was Elizabeth who beat him to answering. "He can't. His mum wants me to make him stop working."

"Why is that?" William looked at Lucy. He always had to be wary of parasites who thought that by marrying one of his daughters they could spend all their days jet-skiing in the Mediterranean.

Lucy thought James should answer, but he did not, so Elizabeth spoke again. "He's an actor." She wondered what he would say to that.

William looked enlightened all of a sudden. "You were Graham! In that television series."

James smiled. "I was."

"I thought you were on the stage," said Elizabeth. She had missed this television series. Why? James had been in it. Maybe it was because she hardly ever watched any television at all. "And who's Graham?"

"Graham wasn't very nice." James smiled again. She might not like him very much.

"Some of the other characters in that series weren't very nice either," William remarked. "The way they talked about me was very enlightening and they were based on existing people that I know." That was the main reason he had watched the series.

"The writer told me he had based it on his own experiences, so it was probably true," James said. He did not really remember that characters had talked about the king, but of course only the king himself would really remember it if it had not been more than one line. "I talked to him a lot, because I thought writing would be more fun than acting. But it pays less."

"You don't have to worry about that anymore," Elizabeth reminded him. He could do what he liked.

James did not really agree. It would be like being a kept man. His wife would let him indulge in his hobby in some back room while she provided the money. "We should live off twice the lowest income."

"It's a bit hard to live off twice the highest income."

James laughed. "I know. You're right. I meant --"

"I know what you meant, but I just had to say that."

"Aren't you running too far ahead?" William asked.

"Too far ahead?" Elizabeth repeated with a puzzled look. "But we can still call it off if we disagree, so we have to discuss this in advance."

To William it seemed a bit far in advance to do this before they had even said they loved each other and to Lucy too, apparently. "You might disagree about which set of grandparents you'd want to dump your children with during the summer holidays," she said. "Make sure you discuss that as well."

"You'll get the troublesome ones, Mum," James promised her. "No discussion necessary."

"Troublesome?" Elizabeth asked disbelievingly. "Mine?"

"You threw eggs at me this morning," said James. "I think your children might very well be troublesome."

"Elizabeth has been throwing eggs?" William interjected in amazement.

"He was fighting with Francis!" she protested defensively.

"Fighting?" Lucy asked, looking at her son.

"Francis?" asked William. "That weasel can fight?"

"We were only wrestling!" James exclaimed. "But Elizabeth locked us out anyway and then the police arrived and I had to climb in through a window to get Elizabeth to tell the police I wasn't a stalker, only I startled her and she threw an egg at me."

"Yes," Elizabeth said in satisfaction. "And one on his head too."

"It sounds like you both enjoyed the experience," William commented sarcastically. Even James looked satisfied. One had to be deeply in love to enjoy having eggs on one's head. If it had not been visible before, it would be all too obvious now.

"She cleaned me with a sponge…" James clarified.

William was glad he was not the only one who rolled his eyes in disbelief. Lucy was doing the same. She got to her feet and straightened her skirt. "Jamie, I'm satisfied. I should be going now. Thank you for the drinks, darling." She kissed him on the cheek. "Bye. Come home soon."

William stood up as well. "I suppose I ought to see that president now." He might become cross-eyed if he stayed here much longer.

"President?" Elizabeth said in shock. "You said a politician. You kept a president waiting?" But in a way she was proud that she was more important.

"Lizzy, he's only a president. I'm a king," he said somewhat arrogantly. He gave her an awkward hug. "Come and let us know how it's going soon."

Safely outside, William groaned quite audibly. What a pair of idiots and one of them was his daughter too. The waiting detective opened the car for him.

"What did you say, Your Majesty?" Lucy inquired innocently.

"As the only person who cannot be reproached for anything I suppose you feel very smug now."

"Moderately."

"Damn the president. I want to see my wife," William said in a savage tone, put out that he had something else to do. He had things to tell her.

"I do hope you calm down before you see her," Lucy said, still innocently. "You'll frighten the woman to death if she's as much like Elizabeth as you said she was." In which case she also might not know if he felt anything for her. Lucy would not be surprised.

"I'll tell my wife to go and visit you some time," William said, getting into his car. "Then you can see for yourself if she's like Elizabeth. She doesn't have many friends," he added as a motivation for his words.

Her father was not the sort of person to accompany to his car if he was leaving, so Elizabeth had stayed inside. She had a lot to think about now and she had not really been paying attention to what James was doing, but he had been waving to his mother from behind the front window.

James tried to remember what they had been doing before the visit and realised that they had not yet put the shopping away. He left Elizabeth lying reflectively on the couch. It was not strange that she had some thinking to do for a few minutes.

When he returned she was still there, but any mild annoyance he might have felt disappeared when she sat up and stretched out her arms. He sat down next to her and she lay against him with her feet on the table.

"What do you think of the way it went?" she asked, placing one hand on his chest because it had nowhere else to go.

"It went alright, I think," he said carefully, wondering if he could mirror her movements. But his feet were too big for the little space that was left on the table.

"Do you think my father might be proud of me?"

"I would be."

She began to smile. "Would you?"

Part Forty-Three

Saturday Afternoon

"I'd have to be proud of someone I married," said James.

Elizabeth had her head against his shoulder and glanced up at his face. She raised her eyebrows a tiny bit. "But James, it was supposed to be a business deal."

His face remained serious, but his eyes began to twinkle. If he turned his head, his lips would brush against her forehead. He tried that. "I said the deal was off."

"Mmm."

"What?"

"Mmm," Elizabeth repeated.

"What does that mean?"

"That I don't really mind." She sighed contentedly. It was a pity she had stuff to do around the house today. "I don't want to do any cleaning today."

"Why not?"

"Because you're here."

"I'm not going to do it for you," he said, just in case.

"I don't mean that. I don't want to do it while you're here."

"But I might never leave," James remarked. "Your house is going to turn into a mess."

Elizabeth held her head back a little so she could study him better. His blue eyes were looking back at her mockingly. She did not really know what he had meant, but she could also take it to mean that she might as well clean because they could lie like this whenever she would like, not just now. "If I clean will you help me?"

"Maybe." He wondered why they had to be talking about cleaning right now.

"Or not. You need to sort out your things as well. I saw you only threw them into your room without putting them away neatly."

"I didn't feel like doing that yet."

"But if you might never leave, you'll have enough time for that." Elizabeth hesitated. "Did you also notice that your mother mentioned more children than just the one we are getting married for?"

"Now that you mention it…" James said thoughtfully. "I do believe she did."

"And so did you. You said you'd send her the most troublesome ones. That means you were starting from the assumption that we'd have at least three children."

"If I might never leave, I might as well make myself useful," he commented.

"How is that making yourself useful?" she wondered.

"Well…if you have one child, you're going to have to keep it busy all the time. If you have two children, they can play together, unless they're fighting and you'll have to keep two of them busy. If you have three children, they can play together and if they're fighting you'll only have to keep one of them busy. Now, if you have four children or more, you're never going to have to keep them busy because they'll do that themselves."

It was an interesting way of looking at it. "What if I want to keep them busy?"

"Oh. Well, then you'll be better off with four than with one as well," James grinned.

"And what do you want?" she asked him. It was interesting to see how a serious question could make him uncomfortable, but it told her enough. She kissed him and then lay back again in satisfaction. "Oh James," she sighed after a few minutes.

"Yes?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to sigh that."

"Why?"

"To hear how it sounds."

Saturday Evening

A long time later, Elizabeth looked at the clock. "We forgot to have lunch."

"Too bad," James murmured. "There are more important things in life." They had been talking quietly, still reclining on the couch.

"I suppose that since we hardly stirred, we hardly used up any energy, so it's not bad that we didn't have lunch," she mused.

"You give me a lot of energy too."

"How?"

"I don't know. You just do. I want to get my room in order now." James sat up straight.

Elizabeth swung her legs off the table. She would get some cleaning done in that case. "Feel free to use any piece of unused furniture you find."

"What do you mean?"

"You may strip the other rooms if you like. Nobody ever uses them."

James pulled her to her feet. "Then why do you have them?"

"Because I wanted a garden and because I used to work from home before I rented office space."

"And then you replaced the desks with beds?"

"Sort of," Elizabeth smiled.

"Why only single beds? You could never…invite couples."

"Or become a couple, isn't that what you really meant?" she teased him.

James grinned. "No, that's not what I really meant. I meant what I said. Couples are resourceful enough to find a way around that single-bed problem. Eeew, we're a couple," he realised suddenly. When had that situation crept up on them?

"James!" Elizabeth laughed. "Why are you saying eeew?"

"Because I never intended to become a couple."

"Me neither," she consoled him. "Are we really a couple?" She was surprised by it too. The signs had been there for a while, but she had never put two and two together yet.

"If you were another person looking at our situation, what would you think?" He did that for the first time himself too and had to stop himself from gasping. Not only were they a coupe today, but they had been one a few days ago already.

Elizabeth began to giggle after a few moments. "I'd think we were very stupid."

"But would you think we were a couple?" He did not see how she could think otherwise.

"Yes." She was still giggling.

"I'm shocked," said James, looking dazed.

"Don't act with me, James." Elizabeth punched him. "It's not that shocking. It's only natural that people should grow closer after they agree to get married."

James let out an incredulous snicker. "I beg your pardon? That's natural in reverse."

"Then we were close before we got engaged." That would be the natural thing and why should they be unnatural?

"That's impossible."

"Then we must have had attraction at first sight," Elizabeth decided. "I think I did."

James looked away as he remembered their first meeting. The first glimpse of her face had been devastating in retrospect. Only look what it had led to. "Oooh. Ah well. Er…mmm. Yeah."

"I do recall that I had a bit of trouble concentrating after you left. Was all that mumbling a me too, by the way?"

"I just don't see how I could fall for someone at first sight, even if they look like you."

"You'd been writing to me."

That made it more acceptable to James. She had been working on his mind with her little notes. "How come you're so wise all of a sudden?" he asked suspiciously.

"I'm always wise. I only stopped being wise for a bit when you appeared." Elizabeth stuck out her tongue.

Part Forty-Four

Saturday Evening

Someone called James' mobile phone while he was upstairs. Elizabeth was cleaning the kitchen when it began to ring. After she had located it she answered it because the display said it was Andy. She knew Andy from the barbecue party and she could tell him to hang on while she took the phone to James, who would not mind, considering that they were a couple. "Hi Andy."

Elizabeth?

Whoa, Andy was clever. "Yes."

Did James move out?

Andy was not so clever. "No, he moved in." She liked saying that. It made her feel smug.

I mean out of his flat. There's a boy there who says he's James' brother.

"That's right. He's living here now. He's upstairs. Do you want to talk to him?"

Yes, please.

Elizabeth walked to the stairs. "I'm taking you there now. Didn't his brother tell you where James had gone to?"

He said James had moved in with a woman he didn't know. I figured it might be you, but I don't have your address or phone number.

She had reached the first floor landing and stepped into the room from where she heard the sound of whistling. James had stripped to his waist and he was folding up clothes. That was distracting enough for Elizabeth not to notice the absence of the bed. "Phone. It's Andy," she said as she handed him the phone.

"Andy!" James yelled into the phone.

Elizabeth wanted to sit on the bed to watch him, but it was gone. That puzzled her. All bedrooms had contained a bed. She stepped into the adjoining room and surprisingly enough there were two beds in there when there should only be one. They had been arranged the way they were always placed in hotels, with room on either side and they were covered with James' junk. She stared at it in wonder, then shook her head and then returned to the room where James was. He had done this, but why?

James was still talking to Andy, undoubtedly trying to explain what he had done and trying to fold clothes with one hand. Elizabeth noticed that the closet was nearly full and that there was still a huge pile of clothes on the floor. James would have to put the other closet here as well. Maybe that was why he had thrown the bed out.

She would not disturb his phone call, but it was his own fault for having taken off his shirt, she thought as she ran a finger over his ribcage.

"Aaaaah!" James exclaimed involuntarily and turned red. "Sorry Andy," he said into the phone.

Elizabeth snorted. "Why are you blushing? Andy can't see that anyway."

"Elizabeth is being mean," James said to Andy, but his expression belied his words. He loved it. He lurched at her and she ran away with a shriek. She would go and make dinner.

"Hey, you can cook," James said in mock surprise, grabbing her from behind. He had become hungry and he had come downstairs to see if anything was being done about dinner or if he should do something about it himself.

"Not when you're grabbing me."

"I'm only showing you how distracting this is when you're trying to do something serious." He lifted up her shirt and lightly drew circles on the bare skin of her ribs.

"That's not distracting," Elizabeth said bravely.

"It's not?" James moved his hand up a short distance, keeping one eye on the large spoon she was holding. He had only moved his hand a little, but it might have been a little too far. She might hit him with that spoon.

"That is, that is," Elizabeth squeaked, wriggling. "After dinner!"

James was satisfied enough by that answer and grinned. He rested his hands on her waist, giving her little squeezes now and then. He was like a little baby, delighted to see that every action had a reaction, because she wriggled with every squeeze. "You're on."

"What did you…" she wriggled. "…do to the…" she wriggled again. "…beds?"

"I moved one."

"Why?" A firm smack with the spoon put an end to the tickling.

James grinned. He knew he had been annoying. "Because I needed another closet."

"Of course," she mocked. Naturally that was the first thing a man would think about. She would think that the choice between thinking about closets or beds was a dead easy one for men.

"I can't have half of my clothes in one room and the other half in the other room. Things of the same kind should be together."

People were things of the same kind, Elizabeth supposed. "Ahh." She did not know whether he had consciously meant that as well. It was likely, however, that the son was as shrewd as the mother. "You could have put it in my room then." That would test him.

"Too feminine."

She had been right -- James had consciously moved the beds and invented the excuse about the closets later. Hurrah for her perceptiveness. "So you want me to -- let me get this straight. I have room A, you have room B and you'd like us to sleep in room C? Could you put some plates on the table, please?" Dinner looked like it was ready.

James got two plates and forks and spoons. "Well, I have no choice. I have to sleep in C. You can choose between A and C. Whatever you like."

Elizabeth put the pans on the table thoughtfully. "That will depend on if you're nice to me," she teased.

"I always am!" James protested.

It was a lost cause, Elizabeth realised. Room C it would be, but it would be fun to tease James just a little. And to see whether she really wanted this or whether she was only giving in because she wanted to please him since he so obviously wanted to.

She teased him and left him in suspense all evening, so that he still did not know when they were brushing their teeth. Elizabeth was a tease who enjoyed this, James decided. "Does my room have a lock?" he asked.

"A lock?" Elizabeth stopped taking off her socks. What on earth could he possibly want a lock for? Did he want to lock them in? Yes, she had decided she was bad at saying goodnight as well. She wanted to stay with James.

"I want to lock you out." He snorted at the expression on her face. "You're too much for me too handle."

Why did he always have to be undressed in her presence? James was standing in his underwear again. As if she could handle that! "Look who's talking!"

"Oh, should I take them off?" James asked innocently.

Sunday Morning

Elizabeth's habit to get up early ensured that even on a Sunday she woke up early. James was already staring at her from the other bed. The curtains and the window were wide open and she could see a sunny blue sky. The day was starting well.

"I made breakfast for you," said James.

He was so cute! Elizabeth wondered if it was the weather or if he was always going to be like this. She smiled. "Already? I thought I was early."

"I was earlier." James sat up. "Sit next to me."

Elizabeth moved over. She saw the tray on the table beside the bed and she smelled it now too. "Is it cold yet?" she wondered. How long had it been there?

"Closer," James ordered.

She moved so close that she would barely be able to use her left arm, but this whole thing was not about breakfast at all. Breakfast was an extra. Who cared if she could not use her arm? "Better?"

"Yes," he smiled. "That's how I like it." He covered their legs with the duvet and nudged her with his knee. "Don't you?" The two single beds that were pushed against one another did definitely not make one double bed and they had not expected them to, but the little ridge in the middle would not bother her as much sitting up as lying down. He had liked being such a small distance away from her last night, but he did not mind making that distance even smaller now.

Part Forty-Five

Sunday Afternoon

When James had gone to the theatre, Elizabeth went to visit Miriam. She had originally planned to settle herself on some bench with some translating work, but Miriam lived nearby. Surprisingly enough, Felix was there as well. "Hi, what are you doing here?" Elizabeth greeted him.

"Liz, don't be stupid," Miriam told her and Felix grinned a little. "I haven't heard much from you since Thursday." In fact, she had not heard or seen anything, when Elizabeth usually came online every night.

"James --" Elizabeth began and then fell silent when she realised there was a journalist present. She could not say James had moved in.

"Ahh, James," Miriam said knowingly. That would explain a lot.

"Who's James?" asked Felix, but he gathered from Elizabeth's discomfort that James ought to stay a secret. He could only imagine one reason why Jameses should stay a secret: love.

"Her new flame." Miriam knew no discretion. She ignored Elizabeth's dismayed look. "Where is he?" If he had been keeping her busy for the past two days, why had he suddenly let her go? Or was he just another unreliable guy?

"Working." After their breakfast they had gone into the garden where they had sat and lain on the grass until it was time to have lunch. James had remembered the matinee after lunch and he had got dressed while Elizabeth put the lunch stuff away. At the last moment she had decided she wanted to come with him as far as the theatre and he had been kind enough to wait another few minutes while she showered and dressed in record time. "I'm just passing the time while he's working."

"Remember how she liked Merscombe Hall?" Miriam said to Felix. "She's even gone so far as to get herself the heir to the property."

"And that would be James?" Felix asked.

"I don't even know if he's the heir!" Elizabeth protested, blushing fiercely. And she did not care if he was either. Miriam was making fun of her.

"But he's connected to Merscombe Hall?"

"Yes," Elizabeth replied with her eyes cast down. This was making it sound so completely different, as if she had purposely searched for the heir because she liked the house. "But that is not the reason…"

"Oh, he's terribly gorgeous of course. But there has to be a catch somewhere." Miriam glanced at Elizabeth.

"No, he's nice."

"He's also poor and you are rich. I never know what to think of handsome men who are conveniently single when they meet a rich woman."

"We like each other."

"You like everybody." Hell, Elizabeth even liked her. Miriam grinned.

"I don't love everybody," Elizabeth said quietly.

"But you love James," Miriam stated.

"Yes." She did.

The two others regarded her silently. They could not yet say if this was good or bad. "Does your father know?" Miriam asked finally. William was not the easiest person when it came to accepting sons-in-law, she would imagine.

"He gets along with James."

It sounded like James had received the royal stamp of approval. Elizabeth would undoubtedly be married soon. Poor girl, thought Miriam, who would not yet like to be tied down. She wondered if Elizabeth loved James because she loved him or because she wanted to love him. She would only know that if she saw James. "Bring him here some time. I've only seen him once."

"Why, if your father gets along with him, are you reluctant to talk about him?" Felix asked. "Or does your father think he's merely a friend?"

"Because you might write about it," Elizabeth answered candidly.

"I told you I wouldn't."

"I know you told me that, but this is a scoop. Anyway, you know now," she decided. "And I'm not reluctant to talk about him. It's just that Miriam is making fun of me."

Elizabeth received a text message on her phone. James would be late because he had to talk to someone. She stayed a little longer at Miriam's and then walked back to the theatre at her leisure. She did not know where James would be, but she would check if he was around here somewhere. The restaurant and bar were crowded with people having a drink or a meal after the matinee and before the evening performance. She wound her way through the room, checking all the tables.

Celia came out of a door marked No Entrance. "Elizabeth!" she purred, glancing her up and down. Elizabeth was neatly dressed now in a jacket and long skirt, so she could not make any comments about that. "You must have come for James. I'm afraid he's still…occupied…in his dressing room."

The suggestive undertones did not worry Elizabeth. This was Celia. "And his dressing room is through that door, I assume?" There was not a chance of Celia seeing her wait. If she did not meet anybody who would physically prevent her from doing so, she was going to see James right now.

"Yes, but you're not allowed to go there as a member of the public. You're going to have to wait for him here." Celia obviously delighted in telling her.

"As you know, Celia dear, I am not a member of the public. We do not wait. Any rules are just not made for us." Elizabeth inclined her head slightly and went through the door before she let on that she was not as confident as she sounded. On no account would she let Celia order her around in public. There might be people around who had recognised her and they would wonder why she could be ordered around.

Beyond the door there was a dull passage and stairs that led down. Since the passage ahead of her was deserted, she took the stairs. There were sounds coming up from below. An older man told her she was not allowed to be there, but thankfully she saw Mike, passing by with a load of technical equipment. "Mike, where's James?"

"Hi. Second door on the right," he said, walking on hurriedly.

She left the older man, who obviously still not agree with her being there and barged into the room. Knocking would look too timid, even though she felt very timid. James was there with an older woman. They were having a drink.

James was surprised to see her, but also pleased. Introducing Elizabeth to his agent, he realised that his attempts to free himself from his image of pretty upper class boy was not helped much by Elizabeth's arrival and he grinned ironically. She was of course the ultimate pretty upper class girl in looks, mannerisms and voice.

He offered her his drink since he did not have another to give her. She took a sip and then returned it to him, not being very fond of sparkling mineral water.

"I'm sorry you keep having to play the same types," said his agent. "I'm doing my best for you, but you just happen to be that type." And he was going to remain that type.

"But a villain would be nice for a change. Otherwise I'm forced to shoot my own low-budget home video supervillain film," said James, pulling his most evil supervillain face. "Very cartoonish and with me as the supervillain and Elizabeth as the superheroine."

"I beg your pardon?" Elizabeth cried.

James smiled enthusiastically. "Wouldn't that be fun?"

Elizabeth could tell that James was serious. He was not even mocking. He would really think this the best fun he had ever had. "Do you really want to parade in a tight yellow bodysuit or something like that?" James had the fantasy level of a four-year-old. It was hard to imagine, after having read his play. He was definitely multifaceted.

"No, that'll be you." He smiled even more enthusiastically. "The villain is usually ugly and dressed up. If you don't like bodysuits, if they're too hot or something, you could also wear a combat bikini."

"Argh!" she cried. Alright, so James was a little above the level of a four-year-old, given his fantasies about bikinis. That was reassuring. "Your target audience is about four years old! They don't want to see combat bikinis."

"They rarely go to the cinema all alone. You must cater to the parents a little as well," James winked. "And to your co-star, who won't die, but who will be redeemed."

"And then he'll be wearing a yellow bodysuit as well?" Elizabeth raised her eyebrows expectantly.

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