The Deal ~ Section IV
by Lise

The Begining
Previous Section
Next Section

Part Forty-Six

Sunday Afternoon

"How did you get in here?" James asked Elizabeth when they were alone.

"I walked in."

"How did you know where to find me?"

"I saw Celia. She told me you were occupied and I didn't want to give her the pleasure of seeing me wait. Then down here I saw Mike and he said you were in here, so I went in because there was a man telling me I wasn't allowed to be here."

"What do you think of my plan?"

"I thought you said you couldn't act."

"What's that got to do with anything?" James asked.

"You want to play a supervillain. You're going to have to act for that. That's a compliment," she added with a smile. "You're about as villainous as…as…"

"All men want to run around looking silly," said James. "Once in a while and preferably with a weapon and a beautiful woman nearby. It comes naturally to them. No acting required."

"Just a regression to the inner child?" Elizabeth inquired mockingly.

"Blah," he said as he pulled on his coat. "Just play along." Or the supervillain would just have to abduct her.

"Maybe." It did actually sound quite interesting. She could have a good laugh watching it.

James stepped out of the room and hesitated. "Shall we go out the back or the front?" Nobody would see them if they took the back exit and everybody would see them if they went out the front door. He had nothing to hide.

"The front," Elizabeth said immediately. "I want to show I got what I came for."

"And what would that be?" James asked, feigning ignorance. He tried to suppress a smug smile.

"You." She watched James step aside to let her climb the stairs first. That was very gallant of him, but she wanted him to go first. "No, you go." He was too good to let out of her sight.

"Alright, but don't stare." James laughed when she coloured. He waited at the top. "Did you stare?"

"Of course."

"At what?"

"Well, this." Elizabeth put her hand on it as they walked to the door that led to the public area. "Gahh, I can't believe I'm saying that!" she exclaimed, shocked by her own audacity.

"You can say it to me. I like it," James grinned. He paused at the door. "I think you should go first now. That will match your assertive entrance. Drag me out of here, darling."

That was the first time he had ever used a word like that. Elizabeth could only stare.

"What's the matter?" James looked genuinely puzzled.

"Y-Y-You called me darling," she said with a happy little smile. It was amazing that such a small thing could make her happy.

James smiled back. "Because you are one."

Elizabeth did not really know what had happened after that, except that at some point someone loudly asked them to be excused and she found that she had been kissing James.

"Oh, I am sorry. I didn't see you," James said politely to the person who wanted to pass. They were blocking the way.

Elizabeth took his hand and they followed the man through the door, still smirking. She spotted Celia at the bar. Their way led them right past her. "Bye Celia, have a nice evening," she said sweetly, not seeing how someone could be having a nice evening hanging in a bar. And frankly, not many people would have an evening that was as nice as hers was undoubtedly going to be.

James did not know what Elizabeth wanted. He would stay out of this. She could handle it alone, as she had so ably proved back at his barbecue party.

"You too, Elizabeth," Celia answered.

"I've got James." That would automatically make everyone's evening nice.

"Ooooh, I forgot. I guess you don't really come across as being together," Celia apologised.

"No, I'm holding his hand because he's blind," Elizabeth said sarcastically. "Maybe we should provide some people with a verbal explanation," she said to James. She had wanted to say dimwits, but that would have been insulting.

"But keep it simple," James replied. "Or they might not understand it."

A car stopped beside them as they walked through the parking garage and they were close to James' car. "Damn! So that is your wife, James!" a man cried.

James recognised him as the vague acquaintance who had wanted to steal his parking space. "You didn't believe her when she told you?" He tightened his grip on Elizabeth's shoulder as if to make it more believable.

"Er well, you've got to admit…" The man looked in his mirror and was forced to drive on because there was another car behind him. "Of course I believed her! See you!"

James and Elizabeth laughed. "Maybe you want to be the supervillainess," he said. "You lied to that man."

"You never told him it was wrong."

"But I didn't lie. I can tell you want to play along," he said teasingly.

"Have you got a video camera?"

"No, but we've got to write the script and rehearse first," James mused. He could see it all in his mind.

That made Elizabeth laugh. "A script? For a bit of -- no, I can't say it. You might not take me home if I'm disrespectful."

"I would always take you home," James said solemnly. He opened the car door for her. "If only because the house is yours."

"But it's your car." She did not get in yet.

"Yesterday I heard you say I was your stuff, so it would ultimately be your car." James looked into her eyes. That little sparkle made him feel light-headed. "I feel dizzy."

"I'll drive. You think too much." Her hands closed around his fist to take the keys from him.

"No, I feel too much." He looked into her eyes again. Was it just him who had this problem? She was acting awfully competent and unaffected. "Don't you feel anything, Elizabeth?" he asked a little plaintively. Unconsciously he advanced a step.

Elizabeth breathed out. "I can't. One of us has to drive." It was going to be difficult, though. If James did not step back she was going to be completely incapable of even reversing the car out of this parking space. She placed her hand against his chest. "Stay back, James. I still know where the gas pedal is right now, but if you come any closer I'm going to lose it." And then they would never get home, but it would all happen here when home was a much better place for that.

"Gas pedal," he repeated as if he had never heard the words before. "Ahh." He began to smile. She was at the same point he was, but she was stronger. She could resist. He would let her drive home and then try to pull her over the edge. It did not look terribly difficult to do that. "You don't want to lose the gas pedal…" He had better not say darling either. "…Elizabeth. I've lost it already. Drive me home."

Part Forty-Seven

Monday Morning

"How is James?" Marie asked the moment Elizabeth set foot in the office.

Elizabeth stared that her without replying right away. She could swear she had heard that sentence with the wrong emphasis and she was not going to answer the question like that. There was a not so subtle difference between the two. "He's fine."

"I didn't mean how is James. I meant how is James," said Marie. "Just fine?" She raised her eyebrows, indicating that James should be more than fine -- in performance, not in health.

Elizabeth had heard the wrong emphasis then. How was James? Not just fine, no. But it was none of Marie's business how fine James actually was. She said nothing.

"Has he moved in yet?" Marie wondered when she did not get any answer.

"Yes."

"I'm amazed you came to work now that he's moved in." Marie thought she would have serious problems getting up if something like that happened to her.

"Oh well, you know…after a whole weekend you want to do something with your brain again," Elizabeth said sweetly. "You have to maintain the right balance between brain and body. Don't you think?" It had not even been difficult to get up. Due to circumstances the night before, they had not eaten dinner and she had been starved when she woke up.

She went to her office, leaving Marie and her questions behind. Of course James was not just fine. How could Marie even ask? James was all that was good. And he was a little devious too. Last night he had claimed to be so confused that he could not even drive a car, but at home he had certainly known what to do to get to his destination.

James had got up a little later. He first raided the kitchen because he was starved too. After filling his stomach he rambled through the house with a cup of coffee and then installed his computer. With a bit of rearranging he could put it next to Elizabeth's computer. He did not know if she minded, but it would be nice if they could work at the same time and not too far away from each other.

After going for a swim he made himself some lunch and unpacked the rest of his belongings. The advantage of moving in with someone with a big house was that there was enough room for his stuff. He had no problems giving every a place.

Then it was time to make an early dinner. Fortunately the play would only run on for one more week. It was no fun having dinner all alone. It was funny that it had never bothered him before, but now that he had an alternative, he would prefer to eat at the same time as Elizabeth. They would come home at the same time, but that would be too late to have dinner.

He had not moved in to only see her at night, but he told himself not to be stupid, because he only worked three nights. There would be plenty of time. It was just rotten that life went on and that life did not stop for relationships. Or, if he turned this around, it was rotten that good things always had to happen on Sunday night. There was of course no stopping such things, so there really was no remedy.

At the theatre he had to answer many questions about his relationship. Several people had seen Elizabeth yesterday and if they had not, Celia had made sure that she told them about it. Not everything she had said was true, but luckily the men were not interested in Elizabeth's clothes, but in other things Celia could not help them with.

Monday Evening

James did not know if Elizabeth was already home when he got there. Her car was there, but this morning she had walked to work and maybe she had not used the car all day. He did not yet know the neighbourhood well enough to know if everything she needed was within walking distance.

He used his key, but he did not see her inside so he got himself something to eat and checked his email on Elizabeth's computer.

Elizabeth could let herself in with her own key, but she appeared not to like that much when she arrived. "If we only had one set of keys, we'd have to open the door for each other," she said wistfully.

James thought that having only one set of keys would also be much more inconvenient. The problem could be solved in a much easier way. "You could have rung the bell and I would have come."

"Would you? Wouldn't it be too much trouble if I have a key?" She stood between his knees with her arms around his neck, fearing that the chair would collapse if she sat down on his lap.

"Not if I haven't seen you all day! I might miss you if I don't see you all day." James nearly said he had missed her, but that sounded so dramatic, as if he had been pining when he had not. He had only felt he had missed her when she had come home.

"You're having a very bad effect on my productivity. I suppose I missed you too. Listen…I'm going to have to dine with my parents tomorrow. Do you want to come?" Her father had called her during the day.

James considered it. He had disliked eating alone today, but dinner with Elizabeth's parents might be just as bad. "Do you mean it's not an introductory dinner? My presence is optional?"

"You don't have to come if you don't want to, but I have to talk to them."

"I'll pass…for now." He hoped she would not be disappointed.

"That's alright."

"I don't feel up to being a good son-in-law yet."

"You don't have to apologise. I understand. It's not only what does James think of me when I say that to him? but also what does his mother think of me when I say that to James? and that's really…stressful." Elizabeth had experienced that herself.

James was glad she understood. "Exactly. And I'd be dining with two of your parents."

Elizabeth was certain that her mother would not be the problem. "But my mum is…she wouldn't ask you any difficult questions."

"That doesn't mean she's not thinking anything difficult."

"It's my father who's more…more…but he likes you."

"Noooo…he likes you. That's why he tolerates me," said James. He could not imagine that anyone could win her father's approval in such a short time. Not for a moment did he believe that he had Elizabeth's father on his side yet.

"He doesn't tolerate you."

"Not even!"

"He likes you."

"Elizabeth darling, you didn't even know he liked you. How can you be so sure he likes me?" James hoped it was true, but one could not really have much faith in Elizabeth's powers of perception, considering how fallible they had been.

Elizabeth frowned. "Well, I underestimate him, apparently. So he loves you."

James threw back his head and looked at the ceiling. "Oooooh yes. And anyway, you can like lots of people and still not want them to marry your daughter."

"But I told him right away what I intended to do with you." She pulled his head forward again so he could look at her.

"You know, you come across as such a docile girl," he mocked.

"I am." She would do everything he said.

"I disagree."

"Really?" Elizabeth was not so sure anymore.

"I'm tired. Let's go to bed," James suggested. He should not tease Elizabeth like that.

Part Forty-Eight

Tuesday Morning

James was not actively looking for a new job. Somehow jobs always came to him and so during the summer holidays he did not have a lot to do on days that he was not playing. During the school year he had a deadly secret job for a few hours a week at a local adult education centre to supplement his income. Deadly secret, because nobody knew. It could easily be combined with a night-time job except during rehearsals.

Elizabeth would find out, of course, or he would tell her, but it was somewhat unimpressive to be teaching middle-aged women. Interest in classical languages had definitely been experiencing a revival ever since James had begun there. He liked it, though. His students were usually enthusiastic and interested.

Since he would not see Elizabeth until late that night, he went down to Merscombe Hall. Before, going through the house had made him depressed because so much had to be done and so little money was available, but now he had renewed energy to make a list of which improvements and repairs ought to be made. Elizabeth might not want to spend money on that, but he would certainly try to make her. The improvements would not be pretentious, just necessary and once the repairs had been taken care of, they would be afloat once more, James thought.

His mother was handling another booking by that fool Marcus, who still wished to come despite the fact that Lord Merscombe had raised his prices yet again. James figured the prices should be raised even further -- until Marcus would start protesting and even then he would still pay. They were cheating themselves by not asking more.

Every time Marcus booked, the entire family had to move out for the weekend. From now on that would be easy. Elizabeth's house was big enough, if she did not mind. James realised he was using her shamelessly, but as long as she did not protest, it was worth a try. Although, the shock effect she had envisaged was not working and all he would be doing for her was getting her pregnant and he was doing that for himself as well. It was not really fair. "Come on, James," he said to himself. "You're doing more for her than that." He was providing her with some much needed order and normality or was he seeing this wrongly? Maybe he was not very normal himself.

Probably not, or else he would never have moved in with her as fast as that. Her taste was good, though. Some people had houses that he definitely never wanted to live in because they looked like funfairs or crowded antique shops, but the only thing in Elizabeth's house that he had his reservations about was her bedroom, with its yellow and pink walls and the cuddly toys. It would never occur to James to combine pink and yellow and if she asked him about it, he would very tactfully describe the result as interesting. And fortunately she had about three or four cuddly toys only and very small ones, so he would not be asked any questions about them.

He had no idea what the repairs would cost, but he would ask a local builder. The easy stuff, such as painting, was something they could do themselves. He wanted to start relatively soon, because he did not want to raise any children in town, considering that Elizabeth might be pregnant. She might not want to move here, even though she liked the house. He wondered what they would do in that case. At heart she was not the type to follow her husband blindly, he thought. If she did so initially to keep the peace, she would regret it later on.

Elizabeth discovered that her father had not yet told her mother all about it. She wondered why as she looked at her mother. Emma had always been a blonde, but now she was a redhead. Elizabeth assumed that without the bottle of dye her hair would be grey and that would of course never do, for some reason. Elizabeth liked red better on her as well. Her mother had looked very beautiful in the black and white pictures from the past and that had obviously been why she was chosen. It was no wonder that the daughter should behave like this if she had a father who had obviously married a woman for her looks alone. And it was also no wonder that he had accepted Elizabeth's story without protesting. Obviously unions without love were completely understandable to him. Why else had he not told her mother about it? Maybe he would be shocked now to hear that was in love with James.

"Your father said you had news," her mother said, her blue eyes still as large and innocent as they had been when she had married, giving the impression that the world continually surprised her by not being as good as she had expected.

"I'm getting married."

Emma looked surprised. She never had an answer ready when she heard something astonishing. Her eyes travelled to her husband. "William…" she said in a slightly plaintive voice.

Elizabeth wondered what she hoped to accomplish.

William frowned. "I couldn't explain it as well as Elizabeth can." He had wanted to tell her, but he had not known where to start, fearing he might end up mocking his daughter.

"To whom?" Emma inquired.

"To one of Lord Whittington's sons," William said.

Apparently that had some meaning to Emma, because she looked puzzled. "Oh, that must be the new Lord Whittington?"

"Why?" Elizabeth asked. The question surprised her. She had been expecting something else.

"Because he was already old fifty years ago."

"Fifty years ago?" William looked sceptically. Anyone would have appeared old to Emma fifty years ago.

Accuracy in numbers was not one of Emma's concerns. "Forty, thirty, what does it matter. This must be his grandson then, because he must be about a hundred years old by now."

"So?" Elizabeth asked belligerently.

"So nothing. Was it your idea or his?"

"His, but that's because he didn't want illegitimate children. Why do you ask?"

Emma made a small gesture with her hand. "I'll never have faith in it if you didn't suggest the idea yourself, but you're not the type to suggest it."

It was a new sensation for Elizabeth to have her father approve of something while her mother did not. Usually it was the other way around and usually her mother agreed with everything. She looked confused.

"It's alright, Emma," said William. "I met him."

Emma did not look convinced, but she did not dare to go against him. "If you say so," she murmured.

Elizabeth began to see why James had said that her mother's silence did not mean she was not questioning anything, but because of the silence it was hard to tell what she was questioning. "He wasn't ready to come yet."

"Says who?" William asked.

"Says James."

"Is James afraid of me? He didn't give me that impression. Or was that because his fearless mother was there to defend him?" A thought struck William. "How did you feel when you first met her?"

"Scared," Elizabeth admitted. "By the sort of questions she asked. But she turned out to be pretty nice."

"I am not happy about this," Emma ventured after spending some time thinking about it.

"I told you it was alright," William tried.

"What would you know about it?" Emma questioned.

Elizabeth was amazed. Her mother was openly disagreeing with her father. Could that really be happening?

"I need to see him with Elizabeth before I give my opinion."

"I saw him with Elizabeth."

"And what would you know about it?" Emma asked again. "You don't know how Elizabeth works at all. You wouldn't be able to draw the right conclusions."

"There was only one possible conclusion," said William. They were in love with each other. He did not know what to make of his wife, but honestly, what unrealistic expectations had he had? That she would immediately say it was wonderful without having seen James? Maybe he had automatically assumed that she would trust in what he and Elizabeth said about the situation. Maybe he had not expected her to think for herself.

"Why do you choose to disagree with Dad only when you're not supposed to?" Elizabeth asked her mother. She should do that on other occasions. "When he's actually right for once, you --"

"For once?" William inquired.

"He is not always wrong, but he is not always right either," said Emma.

"He is right about this. You would love James," Elizabeth said.

"That is not the point. The point is that you should love him."

Elizabeth felt a little more reassured. "I do!"

"For the right reasons and not because he's been nice to you." Emma's eyes suddenly looked wistful. "That happens. Especially if they were insincere."

"James is sincere."

"Are you sure? Not everyone is." Emma looked as if she had trouble understanding this.

"Well, we had a deal to exchange money for a baby, but --"

"Exchange?" Emma seemed to understand this cold-hearted scheme even less. "And you say he's sincere?"

"He is sincere."

"Like father, like daughter," Emma said with a hint of sarcasm.

Elizabeth had always thought she looked more like her mother, except in appearance, so she was a little puzzled. And her mother never used sarcasm either, so that was surprising too.

Part Forty-Nine

Tuesday Evening

Sarcasm from Emma was obviously just as surprising to William as it was to Elizabeth. "I think she takes more after you, Emma," he said.

"It's not a question of more or less. It's a question of in which aspect she takes after whom," Emma said patiently. She had been married long enough to know what her husband was like. "That exchange worries me. Does he love you?"

James had never said so, but Elizabeth thought he did. "I think so."

"Thinking is not good enough. You have to be sure."

"He's never said so," she said hesitantly. It was perhaps a little early for him to do so. They had only known each other for a week and she had not told him she loved him either. She had no problem telling other people, however.

"You can be sure of it even if he doesn't say it. In some cases if you had to wait for men to do something, you'd be waiting forever," Emma said with a shrug.

William looked stunned to hear that. He was wondering if he was one of those men. She seemed to imply that, because she did not know any other men.

"And you're no good at reading between the lines," was Emma's opinion. "She's not good at that," she said to her husband as a hint.

"That's what I discovered," he replied. "Which one of us did she inherit that from?"

"You," Emma said promptly. She knew how to read between the lines.

Elizabeth did not understand why this exchange was significant, but it appeared to be. Her parents both smiled, but what was there to smile about? She concentrated on her food, still feeling confused. And small, as if the adults were talking over her head.

"And what was that about a baby?" Emma asked after a while. "Elizabeth is going to have a baby?"

"Maybe," Elizabeth said cautiously. Was her mother going to disapprove of that too? Her mother should be fond of babies -- she had had five. Nobody would have five babies if she hated them.

"You don't know yet?"

Well, she would definitely have one, but she did not know yet when that would be. "I don't know if I'm pregnant yet."

"But you might be."

"Yes, I might."

Emma had to think about that. "And you're getting married to this James," she said reflectively after a few minutes. "I can only approve if I've met him."

And they were back to the beginning again. Elizabeth sighed. This was another outcome she had completely miscalculated. Would the term dyslexia apply here as well? Perceptually dyslexic is what she might call herself. She poked at the food on her plate. "I won't bring him unless he wants to and we're going ahead with this even if you don't approve of it." That made her sound much stronger than she was. She wanted her mother to approve.

Elizabeth had wanted a word with her mother in private, but her father had assured her he would have a word first. He had told her to go home and await his phone call. Before Elizabeth could leave the building, her twin sister appeared. That was one of the people she wanted to see least of all. One of the others was Robert and he had to be with that group surrounding her sister, including Francis and her eldest sister Victoria.

"What are you doing here?" Victoria asked. "Did you do something bad?" She knew Elizabeth tried to restrict the number of her visits because of some delusional misconception she had.

"I dined with our parents." Elizabeth had wondered why there had not been more sisters present. She was trying not to look at Robert. He was looking too interested. Where had he come from so suddenly? He did not belong to this group.

"I know. We were told to eat out because they wanted to see you alone. What's the matter?"

"It must be James," Francis piped up and Elizabeth glared at him. It really was not nice of him to bring up James in front of a group of very curious people.

"James?" Victoria inquired. Katherine looked curious as well, but she usually left the talking to the eldest.

"Her new…how would you describe him, Lizzie?" Francis asked with his most pestering smile.

"My new gorgeous lover," Elizabeth said without blinking. "He's waiting for me now, so I really must go home…"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Victoria cried. "Lover?"

"Katherine," said Elizabeth, not wanting to tell Victoria anything. She wanted to talk to Katherine, if she had to talk to someone. They were born on the same day after all. They ought be closer than anyone else, even if this was not really the case. She beckoned her sister.

"What is it?" Katherine asked as they stepped away from the group.

"It's none of their business, but Francis will probably tell them anyway. I have a boyfriend and Francis knows that. His name is James. If Francis is not positive about him, he's lying," Elizabeth said in a low voice after a quick glance at the group. "So, if Francis says anything bad about James, tell the others it isn't true and that James is gorgeous."

"But I don't even know him!" Katherine protested.

"Well, pretend that you do. They would believe you. We're twins. You might know him, by the way. He's an actor," Elizabeth suddenly remembered. "Even Dad had seen him on television." Other people might have seen him too.

Her sister looked surprised to hear it was an actor. Elizabeth was not the type to come into contact with them. She would never meet them by accident and she would never seek them out either. "Since when does Dad watch gorgeous men on television? No, don't say it. I was only joking. What was he in?"

"I don't know. Could be anything except the news. He played some Graham or something, who wasn't very nice."

Katherine seemed to know whom she meant right away. "Oh, he was nice, but he just couldn't be trusted around women."

"James?" Elizabeth looked shocked. James had played something like that? But he wanted to play a villain for once. This had not been villainous enough?

"No, Graham."

"Why has everyone seen this series except me?" It was frustrating. Maybe she should watch television more often. Everyone had obviously seen James. They all knew Graham, whoever he was.

"I don't know." Katherine did not really care either. "You've got him in the flesh now. Why would you care? Well, if Francis says anything…I now know what he looks like, so I'll tell everyone he's gorgeous."

"Thank you." Elizabeth stepped back towards the group to say goodbye. She did not know if she could count on her sister, but at least she had tried.

Part Fifty

Tuesday Evening

Elizabeth had not yet got into her car when her mother caught up with her. "Lizzy, I'm coming with you," she said hurriedly.

Elizabeth dropped her keys. "What?"

Emma had taught her daughters to speak properly and not in single words. "Please don't be vulgar."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm coming with you."

Elizabeth stared at her mother. "You're coming with me?"

"This is the third time I'm telling you. I'm coming with you. I want to see him."

"B-B-But…" Elizabeth had a lot of objections that she could voice. "James didn't want to see you, or else he would have come," was only one of them.

Emma did not think she was so very frightening on her own. "He didn't want to meet two parents. I'm alone."

"But I haven't seen James all day." She wanted some time alone with him before she went to bed.

"Is he leaving tomorrow?" Emma asked.

"No…"

"I know what you want, Elizabeth, but he's not leaving. He'll be there tomorrow."

"Why did you come up with this idea?" Elizabeth still did not like it.

"I didn't. Your father did."

Elizabeth looked exasperated. "Why does he always have to run everybody's lives for them? Why can't he leave us alone for just one second?" she whined. Last Saturday she had felt very good about him, but at the moment she just missed James too much.

"He means well."

"Mum, don't gloss over all of his interfering, busybody actions." Elizabeth got into her car.

Emma got in on the other side. "I don't."

So her mother was definitely coming. Which would be logical, since she had been ordered by her father, Elizabeth thought. If it had been her mother's own idea, she would have been much easier to dissuade. "How are you going to get home?"

"Your father's going to send a car for me at eleven." She meant that the car with the detective and chauffeur would follow them directly, but that it would not disturb her until eleven. There was no way that her husband would let her go off all by herself without protection. Elizabeth would not be thinking about that at all and she would feel nervous about being followed, so it was better not to tell her.

"At eleven?" Elizabeth cried, driving off. "That late?" That meant they had to entertain her mother for an awfully long time. They had a lot to discuss, but late at night was not the right time for that.

"I don't think I can get to know your boyfriend in five minutes."

"You mean Dad doesn't think you can get to know my boyfriend in five minutes," Elizabeth said sarcastically.

"Contrary to what you're thinking, I can think for myself," Emma said calmly.

"Oh, can you?" Elizabeth was in the mood to be very polite to either of her parents.

Emma never raised her voice. She always sounded calm and sweet. "And also contrary to what you're thinking, your father does not always think for himself."

The sweeter her mother sounded, the more Elizabeth felt the urge to speak harshly. "Yes, he's got advisors. I know that."

"Indeed he does," Emma murmured. She glanced in the mirror. "I thought you and he understood each other a little better now."

"I still don't understand him."

"But you know he loves you."

"No, I don't," Elizabeth said contrarily. She suspected that he did, but he had never said so. He should tell her some time and not expect her to deduce it herself.

"He does. He might tell you one of these days," Emma said softly.

"How do you know he might?"

"Because I told him to."

Elizabeth looked aside, but it was not so dark that she could not see that her mother was wearing her favourite innocent expression. She groaned. Parents were confusing people. She understood less and less, instead of understanding them better as she grew older.

"You've got it all wrong, darling," said her mother. "But I hope you're right about your young man. That would be so lovely."

James had not yet returned when Elizabeth got home. The house was in darkness. It depended on the weather, but sometimes she admitted to being scared when she got home in the dark. She realised she was very lucky to have James, but only if he was home before her. Right now he was absolutely useless.

"I suppose he's not waiting with the hot milk," Emma said in wonder, as if all men did that.

Elizabeth gave her a puzzled look. "Hot milk?"

"To make you sleep better."

"Does Dad make you hot milk?" Elizabeth asked. She could not believe that.

"I doubt that he knows where to find the milk," Emma said calmly. "He might start looking for cows in the kitchen, because he knows that much. No, he doesn't make it himself. He has people make it."

There was the sound of a car parking in the drive. Elizabeth nearly jumped up, but then she remembered that James had his own key, so that he could get in. Now that her mother was here, it was a bit embarrassing to open the door for him and stay away too long. Both of them waited patiently for James to come in and both were surprised when not one, but three young men came into the living room. They resembled each other and were evidently related.

Emma stood up and glanced at the men and then at Elizabeth. She looked confused and even more so when Elizabeth looked confused as well. "Which one is James?"

"Me," said all three of them simultaneously.

Part Fifty-One

Tuesday Evening

Elizabeth knew that only one of them was James and she knew which one. Still, she was surprised that all three claimed to be James, since they were obviously his brothers and brothers would never have the same first name. She was too stunned to reply.

"All of you?" Emma asked. "What kind of family is that? I didn't call all my daughters Victoria either, did I?" She suspected which one was James. Two of them kept staring at Elizabeth and only one of them was looking at her. That would be him. It was easy to tell. She looked back at James. He knew that she knew, but he looked a little puzzled how she could know. Emma decided not to say anything about it. "But who am I to make fun of your parents?" she said in her most gentle voice and shook three hands.

"Don't you want to hear which one is James?" Elizabeth was amazed.

"No dear. They look interchangeable. I'm sure it doesn't matter," Emma said with a small smile at the real James.

James was sure that her opinion of him depended on his reaction, but at this crucial moment he could not think of anything to say. Elizabeth's mother was not at all predictable. Her father had mostly been worried, his mother had mostly been mischievous, but this was something he could not define.

Elizabeth saw that James was staring at the walls again and she had a great desire to do that too.

Emma sat down again and two of the boys followed suit. Only Elizabeth and the real James were still standing. To her this was another sign that it was really him. They were both frowning at the same wall, but there was nothing to see. "Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth started. "Yes?" What did her mother think of James? Did she even know which one he was? And why had James not identified himself? It might be his protest against seeing her mother here when he had expressly not come to dine with her. He might be upset with her now.

"Do sit down."

Elizabeth obeyed and James paced around the room aimlessly.

"Sit down, James," said Emma. Pacing made her nervous.

"How do you know he's James?" asked Elizabeth.

"They said they were all James." Emma's eyes innocently increased to about twice their ordinary size.

That was true, Elizabeth had to admit. "But he's more James than the others." She realised this was a rather stupid thing to say.

"I can't judge that if he keeps walking around. Sit down," Emma said again.

James sat down beside Elizabeth. He supposed that Emma had come because she had had her reservations. She would not have accepted Elizabeth's story just like that, but why had her mother not come right after William had been here? Of course he had known what she looked like -- everyone knew that -- but this was the strangest woman he had encountered in ages. Apart from Elizabeth -- but then, they were mother and daughter, so that might explain it.

Fortunately his brothers were struck dumb in her presence. He had never actually told them who his girlfriend was and they must have recognised Emma as well. It was too much of a shock for them to keep up the mischief and the teasing. James felt no pity.

"Would you…would you like something to drink?" Elizabeth offered. They all did. "I've got orange juice and…" But she believed she only had orange juice. "And tea and coffee."

"And wine and martini," James added.

Elizabeth gave him a puzzled frown. "No, I don't."

"Yes, you do. And beer." The bottles had been left over after his barbecue party and he had taken them with him when he moved here. She had to remember that nobody had drunk the wine and the martini because she had hidden them in his laundry basket.

"Beer? I don't even like beer."

"Nnnnggghhhh," said James, rolling his eyes. "I'll get you something. She won't know where to find it anyway." He had rearranged things in a slightly more logical way that morning, because he could never find what he was looking for. Elizabeth undoubtedly knew where everything was, but her storage system -- or lack of it -- was a pain for visitors. They would have to know whether something was in a box or in a jar and James did not think it was very logical to keep a box of cereal next to a box of macaroni because they had nothing to do with each other. He did not want to know yet what she thought of it.

Emma would lose the opportunity to study James again if he walked away. "No, Elizabeth will do that."

"I will?" Elizabeth was stunned again. Her mother never ordered people. It had not sounded like an order, but it had most definitely been one.

"Yes, you will," Emma said encouragingly.

"James is being a good man by doing something and you want --"

"He's not being nice to you. He's running away from me," Emma said in a calm voice.

Elizabeth gave up. She went to the kitchen, shaking her head.

"So…James," said Emma. "I believe your grandfather's name is also James, isn't it? Or would that be your father's? Or both? Is it your last name? And will your sons all be called James as well?"

"I might not have any sons."

"Of course you will," Emma said encouragingly. "Elizabeth has more stamina than I did. She would never give up after five girls."

"I might." James looked a little daunted by having five or more daughters.

"Why?"

"Girls are never nice to each other. It's alright if you support one party, but as a father I'd have to be impartial and still solve the problem." James wondered what this had to do with anything. Would she only approve of him if he proved to be a good father?

Emma thought it was taking Elizabeth quite long to get the drinks, but if she said so, James would get up to help her and she did not want him to. He should stay here and lose his nervousness. She turned to his brothers. "Are you triplets?" They did not look identical, but they resembled each other a lot.

"Noooooo!" one exclaimed. "We're younger. James is over thirty. We are not."

"But you're nearing it," James told him. "They're twenty-nine and twenty-seven."

Elizabeth returned with the drinks. "I know how old James is because I've seen his driver's license, but he probably doesn't know how old I am."

"I do."

She had never told him. "How do you know?" She gave James, her mother and herself some orange juice. James' brothers indicated that they would like some apple juice.

"You shouldn't have left me alone in your house. I know all your secrets. I found your passport too, so I peeked into it."

She gasped. "It's got a hideous picture. I hope you didn't look at it."

"It's not as hideous as some other pictures I found," James grinned.

Elizabeth shook her head. "I don't want to know." He might get them out for everyone to see if she asked about them and that was something she did not want. She had a huge pile of ugly pictures that she should have thrown away. They would go out tomorrow.

"A good history book would also list your birthday," said James.

"Oh yes, I am so important," Elizabeth said sarcastically. For a moment she had forgotten that the date of her birth would nearly be considered a national holiday, which was ridiculous, given the fact that she did not even celebrate it herself.

"Well, the occasion was important," Emma shrugged. "Because once again it was not a boy, but it was two girls instead. Some people thought I was disappointed or that my husband would be angry with me or something like that."

"Did your husband want a son?" James asked. He feared it was too nosy of him to ask, but he did not know what else to say to keep the conversation going.

"He probably did at first. I suppose everyone would like one of each, but I think after a few years he realised that it would be better not to have one," Emma said with a smile. "Everybody's attention would be on the boy and with several sisters above him already, it would be very unlikely that he would be given a younger sibling, so he would be spoilt rotten by everybody."

"So you gave up trying?"

"Yes." Emma thought that William might not like them to know that he had gone to the hospital, so she did not mention that. She glanced at James' brothers, who were sitting there very subdued. "I still don't know your names." James had never said whether James was his last name or not. She assumed it was his first name, but one could never be certain.

"Tim."

"Mark."

They were usually a lot louder and talkative than that and James grinned. Emma had really shut them up, even more than she had shut him up. And she was not doing or saying very much.

Part Fifty-Two

Tuesday Evening

They were having an agreeable time. The boys' tongues had loosened a bit and Elizabeth had refilled their glasses twice already.

Someone rang Emma's mobile phone at a quarter past eleven. "Hello. Yes. Yes," she answered and took the phone into the hall to have some privacy.

"That'll be my father," Elizabeth guessed. "She's late. He's asking her where she is." She looked at James' brothers. "Why are they here?"

Now that Emma was no longer present, the men relaxed even more. "We wanted to see you," said Tim. "We hid ourselves in James' car."

"How are you getting back tonight?" she wondered. It seemed unlikely that James was going to drive them back tonight.

"We're not."

"You're staying at a hotel?"

"No, at Damian's. We're helping him paint tomorrow."

"Oh, good," Elizabeth said in relief. They had not planned to stay here.

"Paint? My flat was in a good condition!" James protested indignantly.

"You wouldn't like us to stay the night then?" Tim asked Elizabeth with a significant look at Mark.

"No."

James' brothers howled at him. "She's got plans with you!"

James' cheeks burned. He should not have taken his brothers, even though they had needed a ride. He should have let them go by train.

"If you're not nice to James, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Elizabeth said calmly. And she did not have any plans with James. It was already a quarter past eleven! Her only plan involved sleep.

"She throws a mean egg," James added, recovering himself quickly. "If you're already afraid of her mother, you should be terrified of Elizabeth."

Elizabeth leant against him. "Why are you afraid of my mother?"

"Because she's scary."

"No, she isn't." No one could be less scary than her mother. She always looked and behaved very friendly.

"Your mother has a hidden agenda the size of an encyclopaedia."

Elizabeth laughed incredulously. "No, she doesn't."

"Your mother is not as innocent as she pretends to me. Do you know your parents at all?" James wondered.

Elizabeth asked herself that as well. "I don't know."

"Maybe you've got their personalities mixed up," James suggested. She had been thinking her father would be trouble, but it was in fact her mother. This did not fit with the public image of Emma that Elizabeth seemed to share. Some character traits had obviously been exaggerated.

"So you're saying my father is not telling my mother to come home right now?" Elizabeth asked.

"How do you know it's him?"

"Who else would call her this late? She should have been home already. She was supposed to leave here at eleven."

That implied Emma had no will or mind of her own, but he had seen otherwise. William was not ordering her. He might be worried, though. "If I were married to a popular queen, I'd be worried too," James said softly. He hoped he would not have to explain what there was to be worried about. "Does she have any bodyguards?" He had seen a car outside, but nobody had blocked his way before he entered the house.

"Yes."

"Nobody stopped us when we arrived." If there was protection, it was lousy.

"My father has probably told them about you," Elizabeth guessed.

"And given them my description?" James asked sceptically. And he had brought two brothers they would not know about.

"Your number plate, most likely." Elizabeth yawned. She was tired and leant a little more against James. If he was going to drop off his brothers at his old flat, he would be gone for a while and she did not want to stay behind alone. "You can stay here," she said to his brothers.

James grinned. He did not why she suddenly changed her mind about it, but it was welcome. He had not been looking forward to going out again. Emma returned. She was smiling and did not seem to James like a woman who had been ordered home by her husband. Elizabeth was probably wrong, as usual.

Elizabeth's phone rang right after. "Who would call me this late?" she asked suspiciously, instead of answering.

"Your father," her mother replied.

Elizabeth picked up the phone. "Hello?"

I'd like to talk to James for a second, said her father.

"To James?" Elizabeth frowned at James. Why on earth did he want to talk to James?

Yes, please.

"Why?"

Maybe he'll tell you, maybe he won't.

Elizabeth beckoned James to the phone. "My father wants to talk to you." She sounded surprised.

"Yes, this is James," he said when he took the receiver, wondering why as well.

My wife tells me you're less confused than Elizabeth.

"That's probably right." But confused about what, exactly?

What is your opinion of Elizabeth's confusion? Can it be cured?

James frowned. "I think so. Time and patience." She only seemed to be confused because she was thinking her parents were acting out of character.

Who does she resemble most? Her mother or me?"

"One moment." James took the phone into the kitchen. He was not going to discuss either woman where they could overhear it. "I don't know you or your wife well enough to say that. Why are you asking me?" He did not really understand what the man wanted.

Because you're living with her now and you might have noticed she's a little perceptively impaired.

"But that is mostly where her parents are concerned," James said. He thought of Celia. "She was right on the mark about one of my friends."

And she was right about you as well, I hope, said William.

"Hopefully," James grinned.

There is hope for her yet. He sighed. I'm just concerned and I can't tell her, because she would misinterpret it as fussing. I suppose I wanted to say you can call my wife if you ever have any problems with Elizabeth, because she's better at it than I am.

"Thank you." James was still wondering what this call had been about. Maybe William was just eager to talk about Elizabeth and Emma, who knew?

I'd rather talk to Elizabeth herself, but Emma said I shouldn't, William confessed. He coughed discreetly. And I hope you don't mind my asking this, but I think it would be better if she got herself sorted out first, so could you hold off the pregnancy thing for a while?

"Er…" James did not know what to say. He was stunned. "How?"

Part Fifty-Three

Tuesday Evening

How? William asked. Do I really need to explain how these things happen? He was loath to go into details. Really, someone James' age (thirty?) and profession (an actor and everyone knew they were at it all the time) ought to be more on the ball about these matters. And with his looks especially one could not expect James to be completely ignorant, because someone must have tempted him in those fifteen years that he had been 'on the market.' But perhaps with a mother like Lucy hovering around him protectively he had been kept well away from women and other dangerous things. Still, everything Lucy had not told him would have found his way to James at school and through the media.

"No!" James was aware of the procedures involved in getting pregnant.

William was inclined not to believe that answer. It had sounded quite ignorant and afraid of hearing the truth, actually, but he could not believe someone would not know. If James really did not know, he would seriously tell Lucy off about this. Yes, he would. What was your favourite subject at school?

James really failed to see where school came into things and especially his favourite subject. "What does that have to do with it?"

It wasn't biology then? William told himself he could have known.

"No! Biology?" he asked in a puzzled voice.

Don't tell me it was mathematics or chemistry, William said with a sense of foreboding. Although, chemistry… But that would not be the kind of chemistry that was relevant to the attraction between two people. It would be the kind of chemistry that made people unaware that there were other people, rather.

"No!" James said with heartfelt disgust.

Then what was it?

James let out his breath. "I'm not sure I should tell you. You're not in a kind mood." William would not be complimentary if he told him.

James, don't be childish. I can take this revelation. What was your favourite subject?

"Latin and Greek," James said, wanting to duck and run. Childish was an appropriate word. He did feel like a child.

William saw his point. Oh. I hadn't expected that. But…I needn't be worried then.

"What were you worried about?"

There are some very naughty Latin poets you're bound to have come across. I was worried that you wouldn't know anything about sex. And pregnancy.

James coloured. "I know all that stuff. It's…" It was just that he did not know how to break her father's request to Elizabeth without her getting upset with himself or her father. "How do I sell this to Elizabeth?" he blurted out.

I cannot help you there. William was in some ways relieved to hear that James believed that he knew 'all that stuff' but in other ways he still doubted him and he hoped there was still an opportunity to have a confrontation with his mother about it.

"But it's damn near impossible!" James cried. "The person telling her would have to have some very good reasons and I'm not sure she's going to like the fact that you believe she's mentally unfit to have a child. It's impossible."

Yes, it is. And William was glad it was not his job. Don't tell her then. She might not even notice.

"A woman set on getting pregnant who wouldn't notice that she isn't being given the opportunity?" James inquired in a heavily sarcastic tone.

William agreed that it was highly unlikely, but he also saw something else. You're implying that you are the one who's giving her the opportunities. You needn't turn her down. She's not taking any initiatives herself. All you have to do is lessen the number of opportunities or completely avoid them altogether.

"And that is what I meant when I asked if she wasn't going to notice."

She wouldn't ask you about it.

"But she'd wonder about it. She'd wonder if I still loved her."

Is that the only way you can show her you love her?

"No, but…damn. It's my part of the deal to do that for her," James said in exasperation.

You and I are making a deal that overrules your deal with Elizabeth, said William, having come to the conclusion he should speak in their code in order to obtain the desired results. It's for her own good. It's a deal. Forget about feelings. Her feelings, your feelings -- they don't matter. Concentrate on the fact that it's better for her not to get pregnant just yet. Avoid it at all costs.

James shook his head in despair. They were being beaten at their own game and there was nothing he could do about it. He was a spineless fool to let himself be bullied into this. It was disgusting. "What if…what if she…if she…" he sighed awkwardly. "…how do you call it? Takes the initiative?"

William had to think about that one. Elizabeth? His daughter? How likely is that?

"Well, if I go along with this deal I'm obviously a spineless fool, so it might be very likely."

William had been torn between being amused and appalled all the time. He did not know which feeling he should let prevail. James was not spineless, but he was a fool, alright. Perhaps it was also for James' sake that they should refrain from having a child. How had these two found each other? Would they make each other worse or would they make each other better? How are the odds so far?

"Not in favour. But it wasn't enough to make any generalisations about it."

Well…since you call yourself spineless, it's probably useless to discuss tactics to turn her down, isn't it? William asked, trying not to sound amused. Because they won't work. We'll assume that her showing some initiative is a sign of her being ready for other things, so in that case you should just let it happen. Would you agree with that?

James looked confused and he was glad the other man could not see his face. "I'm not sure that makes sense," he ventured. The entire conversation did not make sense somehow, but he could not put his finger on why it did not. Was it acceptable to disagree with a king? William would not be used to that.

Your girlfriend does not make sense and this is the logical result of talking about her.

"She makes sense to me."

Small wonder, William remarked to himself. But, returning to the deal…do you go along with my plan?

"Which is basically to stay away from her unless she throws herself at me?" James summarised. He did not mention how unattractive it sounded.

Yes, you could put it like that.

"I'm not sure that throwing herself at me is a sign of mental stability."

William had to laugh at that. Don't put yourself down.

"I'm not," James protested. "I'm pointing out how unconvincing it is."

You can throw yourselves at each other as much as you like, as long as you don't get her pregnant. Do you like puzzles?

James was getting a tiny bit annoyed. "Why do you make your daughter sound like an absolute twit? When probably the only reason why you don't want her to get pregnant is because you would then become a grandfather and you don't want to be thought of as old. Elizabeth is bad at predicting people's reactions, but she is not mentally unstable or unfit to raise a child."

Alright. William did not appear to be angry. I was only testing your opinion on the matter.

"Did I pass?" James asked sarcastically, but he was wondering.

Why don't you wait until one of your daughters comes home with serious plans? William suggested. One who's just as silly as Elizabeth, something that's probably inevitable, given the fact that the girl won't have a parent like Emma.

Part Fifty-Four

Tuesday Evening

James needed some peace after this eventful night. Or did the night only seem eventful? Not much had actually happened -- his brothers had come, Elizabeth's mother had come, Elizabeth's father had called. That was it. But all these small things had made him really tired and longing for solitude. His head was spinning with all the conversations and opinions he had heard and the thoughts they had led to. Elizabeth had come to fetch her pyjamas and she had gone to sleep in her own room. Somehow she had sensed something, although she had not said anything except good night. James sat on his bed and felt dissatisfied. He could not go to sleep feeling dissatisfied.

Elizabeth was not yet asleep when he checked. She was lying on her bed with her knees pulled up to her chest, her arms around them. "Back with us?" she asked. Seeing him always made her happy and being happy always made her smile.

"Back with us?" James dropped to his knees by her bedside.

"You were somewhere else." He had been so preoccupied that she had thought it best to leave him alone.

"Too many people talked to me about too many things."

She let go of her knees and stretched out her legs. Those things would have been important things, or else he would not have been so affected. A lot of inane chatter would not make a person preoccupied. "I know. It's…confusing. Who to believe? What to think? They probably all contradicted each other too, didn't they?"

"Yes."

Elizabeth remembered that one time when he had been so desperate about the money. He was looking a little desperate now too. Things got to him. She touched one of his hands. "There's only one person you can believe."

"You?" James asked sceptically.

She laughed. "No, not me. I'm the most confused person on earth."

"You can't be."

"You're saying it's you. No, it isn't. James, admit it. I see everything the wrong way. I know I do. Don't believe me."

It was not her fault. "It only takes one false image to put you on the wrong track." It was hard to change your image if every new thing you saw fit into it.

"I don't want to know how easy it is. I want to know how to get on the right track," Elizabeth said seriously.

"Well, I can't explain how you should get there, but I can do it for you," James promised. It was not impossible.

She loved James and she hugged him.

"No, no, no!" James said quickly, remembering William's request about postponing the pregnancy. "Not now." He was going to be dragged into bed after that hug and one thing would lead to another. Elizabeth would get pregnant.

Elizabeth looked puzzled. "Not now?"

"No, later."

"What are you talking about? You don't want to be hugged?"

"Yes, but --" It was something else to be hugged by a woman lying on a bed. "You're in bed."

She stared at him. "Really?" It seemed too obvious to mention that she was in bed. Why did he mention it?

James stared back, getting confused again. "Yes."

"That doesn't matter. I'll give you a hug and then go to sleep."

"How could you give me a hug and then go to sleep?" James wondered. A hug was a beginning and not an end.

"Watch me," Elizabeth told him. She hugged him and then lay back. "Good night."

James watched her. "It can indeed be done," he agreed, but it still confused him.

"James, go to bed," said Elizabeth, who was tired and who had enough of it.

Wednesday Morning

It was like one of the old days when Elizabeth woke. She got out of bed quickly and was not distracted by James as she showered and dressed, because he was in another room. He did not have to get up yet, so she should not disturb him. He would get up if he wanted to see her. The choice was not hers.

Downstairs she found Mark in his pyjamas, watching cartoons. "Morning," she greeted him politely, telling herself not to ask him if James watched cartoons as well. James was probably not perfect, so he probably did.

"M-M-Morning." Mark on his own was obviously not as bold as when he was together with his brother and he had probably only come downstairs because he had not expected her to be here this early. "I-I-I was only…" he backed off in the direction of the door.

"I don't bite." Elizabeth did not think she looked scary. Alright, she was wearing her office clothes, but her hair was in a braid so she looked quite girlish and young, she hoped.

"Oh." Mark sat down again. He did not know what to say to her. She was a princess, so she was probably used to really deep conversation, not something he could provide her with at a quarter to eight in the morning. Perhaps not even at a quarter to eight in the evening.

"Would you like some coffee?"

"Yes, please," he answered before he could think. Now he was stuck here for fifteen minutes.

Elizabeth started up the computer before she began preparing coffee and breakfast. "Would you like some breakfast as well?" she asked, peering out of the kitchen. It would be impolite to eat without offering him any food.

"Er…" He did not know, actually. Maybe he should wait for Tim, but that might take ages.

"It's no trouble," Elizabeth assured him.

"Okay then."

"Could you come and see what you'd like?"

Mark was surprised to see that she was alone in the kitchen. She should have staff. She was rich. "Where's the cook?" he asked hesitantly.

"He's still asleep," she answered, pulling things out of the fridge and putting them on the table. Then she started opening cupboards. "Grrr! I hate James. Where did he put everything? It's not logical!" Everything was in the wrong place.

"Why do you have a cook if he doesn't get up to prepare your meals?"

Elizabeth turned to look at him. He probably did not know she was talking about his brother. "Because he only does dinners."

"Why is that?"

She held up her hands. "I don't know. No, I don't have any domestic staff. That is such a waste of money."

"I'm sure you don't have to worry about spending money."

"No, I don't. Your brother does it for me."

"James?" Mark was surprised that she spoke so indifferently about someone else spending her money, as if she did not care at all.

"I'm bad at spending money, but James knows many worthy causes to spend it on, I'm sure."

"He knows one."

That would be Merscombe Hall. "I don't care," Elizabeth shrugged. "As long as he enjoys it." She threw some breakfast onto a plate for herself. "Please help yourself. I'm sure there's something you like." She took her plate to the computer for some instant messaging.

Part Fifty-Five

Wednesday Morning

Miriam came online just when Elizabeth was beginning to type her an email.

MIR
HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!!!!

LIZ
I was beginning to think you had the day off.

MIR
I never do.

MIR
You're early. Where's James?

LIZ
In bed.

LIZ
We were a little confused last night. My mum was here.

MIR
How does that confuse you?

LIZ
I had dinner with parents and told them James didn't feel like coming yet, so what do you think they did?

MIR
Dunno.

LIZ
My mum comes home with me and my dad phones him.

MIR
That's er…persistent….

LIZ
So James was a little confused.

MIR
I hope you told them to bugger off.

LIZ
No.

MIR
Why not? If you don't like their interference, tell them so. You're 29.

LIZ
30.

MIR
Even worse.

Emma has been added to the conversation

MIR
There.

LIZ
???

MIR
That's your mum.

LIZ
But she's not on msn.

MIR
Then it must be someone impersonating your mum. HELP! An impostor!

MIR
Save us!

Emma
Yes, I'm an impostor, but I want to play Lizzy's mother for a bit.

LIZ
How?????
Since when are you on msn?

Emma
I installed this yesterday. How did I end up in your conversation?

Emma
Did James ever recover from your father's phone call?

MIR
I invited you, Emma.

Emma
Miriam, do you know James?

MIR
I've seen him once. He was looking very destitute.

LIZ
No, James didn't recover. He barely spoke afterwards.

MIR
He was looking at Liz as if she was the only one who could save him and it was probably true too.

Emma
I'm sorry about that, Lizzy.

MIR
She's got good taste in men, though, don't you think? He looked pretty cute after he'd been saved.

MIR
I've got to go!

MIR has left the conversation

LIZ
She always flashes out. Why do you and dad have to interfere so much?

Emma
You'd be concerned too if your daughter suddenly came up with a fiancé and a pregnancy, when she's never even remotely been interested in either thing.

LIZ
I just never told anyone.

Emma
We won't interfere that much anymore.

LIZ
Why not?

Emma
We've seen him now.

LIZ
So you approve?

Emma
You don't want us to interfere, but you do want us to get to know him so we can approve of him?

LIZ
I don't know what I want.

Emma
You want James.

LIZ
I suppose so.

Emma
Beyond supposition. Have a nice day, Lizzy. I have to go up north this morning and the car is ready. Bye.

LIZ
Bye!!

Elizabeth went to work early, because Mark said very little and James never came downstairs before she left. She worked hard on some boring texts until he appeared towards the end of the morning. "I'm taking you out to lunch," he announced. "Come."

"It's too early for lunch." Everybody would like to be taken out by a handsome man, so Elizabeth jumped up eagerly. "But I'm coming."

"If we can't have breakfast and dinner together, we should at least have lunch," James said, embracing her. Marie was probably lurking somewhere trying to catch a glimpse, but he did not care. This was the first time he had seen his girl today because he had woken late.

"You could have come down for breakfast. Your brother did," she reproached him gently.

"So I heard. I hope he defended the family's honour."

"Not to well."

"He didn't mention he wasn't good company."

"What did he say then?"

"He was quite positive about you. You're not at all conceited and so on, but he said you talked to yourself. Or to your computer. He wasn't sure."

"That's because my mother came online, so I might have screamed a bit. I didn't know she could type."

James laughed. "Tell me over lunch. I want to get away from your staff's prying eyes." He was still standing with his arms around Elizabeth and they would certainly find this an interesting sight.

James was surprised when after his matinee he was informed they had a high visitor at the theatre, a very, very important guest. He did not feel like joining the queue of bowing and curtseying people, so he remained in his dressing room. On no account would he do that sort of thing for a father-in-law, especially not since they had met each other informally at Elizabeth's house.

Because people knew he was seeing Elizabeth, someone must have told William about James and William appeared at the door of his dressing room.

"I figured I was going to be introduced to you too, although the name didn't quite tally," said William. "You left a bit off." He studied the programme again. "But I wasn't. They said you were still here, so I came to see if I was correct."

"I thought your wife promised Elizabeth this morning that you wouldn't interfere anymore," said James in exasperation, as polite as he could be. And here William was again.

"Did she? I haven't seen my wife since she got out of bed." William seemed surprised to hear about the promise. "I am sorry, in that case. I suppose she'll tell me to stop interfering when I next see her. This is a coincidence. I had no idea you'd be here until I studied the programme. Stanton. And Henley. They're both involved. Interesting. Considering that my daughter is involved with a Stanton-Henley, an actor, both names caught my attention. I assume, that since you're in a dressing room, you're Stanton? Though you might as well be Henley the author."

"Yes, I might be," James replied evenly.

"Especially since he's J. S."

"You're a lot quicker than Elizabeth. She thought I was James Stanton living with J. S. Henley," James said with an amused look. She had never said so, but he had known it.

"Partiality clouds one's judgement. She wanted you, so she was afraid you weren't available. I'm sure she would have been quicker if she hadn't wanted you," William defended his daughter.

A smile spread across James' face. He did not mind this visit, actually. He had thought it would be worse. "Are we both hoping she isn't stupid?"

Part Fifty-Six

Wednesday Afternoon

James was still not a hundred percent at ease in William's company, but he was trying. He told himself to see William as Elizabeth's father, which was all he should be.

"Talking about stupid," said William. "Do you use a different name for every occupation you have?"

"Er…your daughter does that too." James went into defensive mode. What would William have to say about it?

"I know that," William said hastily. He knew all about Miss Williams and her business. The only comfort he had derived from her change of name was that she had named herself after him. "But do you?"

"Yes, I do. Why are you asking?"

"Because of Stanton and Henley."

James still did not see what this had to do with stupidity. "Oh, I see." Yes, he had a tendency to use different names in different places, to keep everything neatly sorted. It had nothing to do with being stupid, however.

"Is one of them too stupid to do what the other one does?" William asked when more information was not forthcoming.

"Maybe." James thought that William was obviously not stupid, realising this. It was one of the reasons he had chosen to use a different name. "One of them might be perceived as being…" he grimaced.

"Too stupid to write a play?" William raised his eyebrows.

James looked uncomfortable. He did not like saying such things, but he could not avoid it. "I get work because of I how I look, not because of anything else. If I were to start writing plays, people wouldn't take them seriously."

"I thought that only happened to women." William had heard his wife complain about something similar once, long ago. "My wife dyed her hair for that reason, because she used to be a blonde."

James was surprised to hear it. He was too young to have known Emma as a blonde. In his memory her hair had always been red. "Unfortunately it does not only happen to women."

William could not directly relate to the problem of looks, but he supposed that everyone suffered from other people's misconceptions now and then. He had that too, but there were always more sides to one's looks or position. "I pity you, but while these unfortunate looks may have their disadvantages, they also got you Elizabeth."

James had to disagree with that. "Elizabeth liked me before she had ever seen me," he said earnestly.

William was not familiar with the particulars of their acquaintance, but he was willing to believe James, especially because he looked so earnest and eager to convince him that his looks had had nothing to do with it. "Of course, but she didn't turn you down when she laid eyes on you."

They spoke about the play for a while and then William had to move on to another appointment again.

"What did he say?" people tumbled over each other in their desire to know what William had been talking about with James.

"Just this and that."

"So he knew you already?" someone asked.

"Yes."

"You'd already been introduced to her parents?"

Well, not exactly like that. "They're not the sort to sit at home and wait for their daughters to bring their boyfriends to see them," James commented. They took action and went to see the boyfriends themselves.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing." It was best not to elaborate. People would love gossip too much.

Wednesday Evening

"I happened to be at the theatre today," William said to Emma over dinner. "Where I heard that you had told Elizabeth that we wouldn't interfere anymore."

"Your interference was not appreciated," Emma concluded. The mention of the theatre was quite enough for her to know whom he was talking about.

"Why would people at the theatre tell you that?" their youngest daughter asked. It seemed awfully bold and impertinent. She had no idea what it was about.

"Did you tell Elizabeth?" William ignored his daughter.

"Yes, I did. This morning, on MSN."

William did not have any time to do any of that computer stuff. There was work and then there were sports on television. "What's that?"

Emma began to explain, but she saw he had no idea what she meant. "Really, William. You ought to go online one of these days."

"On where?"

"Online. On the internet."

"What would I do there? You told me it was full of young men trying to flirt with you," he said suspiciously.

"Yes, that too, but Elizabeth's on there as well."

"Elizabeth has got a man and so do you." William did not see the fun in flirting with invisible men if one already had a man at home.

"Elizabeth's got a man?" his youngest daughter cried out. That was news to her.

"Anne, be quiet for a moment," William told her. "I'm talking to your mother." He looked at Emma again. "What's the attraction?"

"Well, we need our daily portion of flirtations," Emma pouted.

"I'm not really sure I agree," William said.

"Yes…that's what I had thought," Emma muttered with a significant roll of her eyes. She was only teasing him a little, but it could never hurt to stir things up a bit.

Part Fifty-Seven

Wednesday Evening

William pondered the significance of Emma's remark. He did not doubt that it was somehow directed at him. It was no surprise to her that he did not think a daily dose of flirting essential, but why was this no surprise? He had never mentioned anything about it. On the other hand it could also mean that he did not flirt with her often enough, but that was ridiculous. They were married. Their eldest daughter was thirty-one and they were far beyond this age themselves. "Emma, you're fifty-nine."

"That would only be important if I were vying for the attention of men half my age."

"Tell me about Elizabeth's boyfriend," Anne begged, but she feared this plea fell on deaf ears, because her father especially looked disinclined to note her existence.

"If you were flirting with men half your age I would take away your computer," said William.

"Really, William. I'd be terribly disappointed and sad if you did that."

"Mum, Dad, would you please stop this childish discussion and tell me about Elizabeth's boyfriend?" Anne asked.

"No, we can't," said Emma. "Your sister doesn't want us to interfere and telling you would be interfering." Oh, it was so easy to use other people's words to one's own advantage."

"I looked pretty foolish, not knowing you had told Elizabeth we wouldn't interfere anymore," William protested. Something had been said on his behalf behind his back.

"Oh William, you never look foolish," Emma said ingenuously. "You're the king."

As if that mattered where love was concerned, he thought and glared at his wife. That innocence hid some devious intention, as usual. Emma knew very well that being a king did not mean that one could never look foolish. She probably meant the opposite.

"Hello-ho!" cried Anne, who felt completely invisible. Her mother looked at her vaguely as if something reached her consciousness from afar. Anne hated it when that happened. You really had to make yourself heard if it did, provided that you were capable of that, otherwise interrupting had no effect at all. Either you should interrupt, or you should not care.

"Don't look at me like that, William," Emma complained. "It's almost a glare."

"It was a glare."

Emma's large blue eyes looked at her husband sadly and reproachfully. She left her seat and wound her arms around him so tightly that it left him gasping for breath. "Oh William, don't be upset with me," she whined.

One could not look any more foolish than this, William thought. He never knew whether Emma's behaviour was true or just an act, but in this case it could not be anything but pretence. He had done nothing to upset her. "It's going to take quite a lot to please me again," he said sternly.

"#!%& dessert," Anne said in a final and desperate attempt to draw the attention to herself and she left the table when her shocking rebellion went unnoticed. She was not going to stay with these people.

"What did she say?" William asked when Anne had left the room. It had sounded like something very bad indeed.

"#!%& dessert," Emma replied quite accurately, calmly taking her seat again. "It's not the kind of language I'd want my husband to condone. You should have said something."

"Emma, you've just scared off the last daughter who was still willing to dine with us," William realised.

"No, you did."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. You should have been a little more sweet to me and then she'd never have run off shouting obscenities," Emma said sweetly.

"I doubt that." William thought that the girl would have run off in any case, just like her sisters had done before her for various reasons. "She was the last one. And now she's missing her dessert as well." He looked concerned.

"She can do without a dessert for once," Emma said.

"If you say so," he answered, smiling at her. "Do you think we could get the girls to take on more responsibilities so we can do more things together?"

Anne called Elizabeth to complain and to ask what was going on. You know, I really hate it when Mum and Dad ignore me.

"I wish they'd ignore me," Elizabeth said. She had just walked to a nearby park, but she sat down on a bench and lent her youngest sister a sympathetic ear. "Why did they ignore you?"

Well, they were talking about some very disturbing things. You appear to have a boyfriend. Mum appears to flirt with men on the internet. At least, that's what Dad's afraid of. And I wanted to ask them about it, but they didn't even see me, let alone listen to me.

"Why not?"

Because they only had eyes for each other.

"What? Mum and Dad?" Elizabeth shouted in shock.

And I really hate it when that happens, said Anne. Have you got a boyfriend?

"Yes, but tell me about Mum and Dad." That was much more fascinating than telling Anne about James.

Mum flirts with men on the internet and Dad's jealous. But I want to hear about that boyfriend. Anne was not to be distracted from her purpose.

"His name is James," Elizabeth said reluctantly, but she was still digesting the fact that her father was jealous because her mother flirted with other men. Both of those things were positively shocking.

James? Do I know him?

"I don't know. He's an actor."

Anne gasped upon hearing that Elizabeth was seeing an actor. How scandalous!

"Scandalous?" Her mother flirting, that was scandalous.

The thought could not leave her alone all night and when James came home she had to mention it to him. "My mother flirts with men on the internet," she blurted out as soon as he stepped inside. "And my father doesn't like it."

"Had you wanted him to like it?" James asked. He wondered why all this was important.

"No, but my mother…" Elizabeth left the rest unsaid because she thought it was obvious.

"Yes, I should have thought your father was enough for her."

"Enough?"

"She's got your father to flirt with. Why flirt with anyone else? You don't feel the need to flirt with anyone else either, do you?" he asked in mock concern.

"No, but…" That was totally different.

"And I don't think your mother flirts at all."

"She's too old."

"No, she's married."

"Married women can flirt." Elizabeth did not see why they could not.

"With their husbands," said James.

"And with others."

"You wouldn't."

"I might, but I'd only be catching your attention of I did." But the thought of her mother trying to catch her father's attention was ridiculous.

"I don't think it has to be caught," James said.

"Well, I didn't have it last night."

"But that was last night," he pointed out. That had been an entirely different day.

"Today is different?" Elizabeth teased.

"Very different."

Part Fifty-Eight

Thursday Morning

James had risen late. He felt very vigorous, although he knew it was a deceptive feeling. Heavy exercising was out of the question, so after breakfast he began to wash his car and Elizabeth's too. Not long after, a watchful neighbour came to investigate.

"Nice car," said the man, stopping to appreciate it and a conversation about cars ensued. "Hmmm," he said, finally getting to his point. "Are you a friend of the family's?"

"Sort of," James grinned.

"We shouldn't like reporters trampling through our gardens, you know," said the neighbour warningly.

James did not yet see the connection. "Why would they do that?"

"To take pictures of you and the princess."

"Which prin…oh, Elizabeth."

"They might come."

"I have nothing to hide. I don't care if they take pictures. Let them. They'll soon get fed up with it," James said with a shrug. "Nobody stays interesting forever." He was not exaggerating. He really cared very little whether people took pictures of him. "We're not interesting in the first place."

"Princesses with boyfriends always are."

Elizabeth might not like the attention, but she had not mentioned anything about possible media attention to him, so she might not care either, he thought hopefully.

Thursday Evening

"Nah, we're too boring," Elizabeth said when James came home and he explained the problem to her. Any interest in them would fade soon.

"Do you think so?" James was surprised to find her already home. He had taken care to cut his last appointment short to be home by six, but she had still beaten him to it.

"We don't cheat on each other. We don't go to parties. We don't buy excessively expensive new toys. We don't do outrageous things. We don't have an attitude." Elizabeth shrugged. "We're boring. I barely read the magazines, but they're hardly ever about people who don't do anything except work and spend time together."

"But people might be waiting for us to break up."

"Waiting for us to find out the truth about each other," Elizabeth winked. "That I'm even more boring than you'd realised at first. I was preparing dinner -- let's go to the kitchen before it starts burning."

"Preparing dinner? God help us," James muttered humorously.

"James!"

"I'll eat it," he promised.

"What did you do today?"

"Didn't you notice I washed the cars?" He pretended to be appalled. "They shine. They should have blinded you."

"No, sorry," she giggled.

"Hmm. Well, then I ran through the park, I went to the bank with my grandfather, had some tea with my father, went to the theatre for a little chat about money and then I came back here."

She looked at him mockingly. "And you think the magazines are interested in that sort of day?"

"They might want to know I had raspberry tea." James sat on the kitchen table.

"Nah. Not if you didn't spice it up with something alcoholic," Elizabeth commented.

"I don't drink."

"You had wine…that one time." Elizabeth coloured slightly. She did not know how to refer to that occasion.

"That was for a higher purpose," he said solemnly, shuddering when he remembered how he had felt after waking up. "I was willing to put my objections aside for once."

"And it failed."

"That time it may have failed, what about the subsequent occasions?" James asked nonchalantly.

Elizabeth considered it, her blush deepening. "Well, one of those three times must have resulted in something. It would be really mean of my body not to let me get pregnant after it's been telling my brain that I wanted a child."

James stared at her doubtfully. "I suppose you also think that your body selected the right kind of man for that purpose, but aren't you overlooking the fact that we communicated through notes?"

"I never had the feeling I should ask you until I'd seen you."

"The female decides? The male of the species has no say in anything?" James blinked. This theory made him rather useless and it was a bit of a shock to consider males might be selected for one purpose only and against their will too.

"I think originally it was his task to provide food, but…" Elizabeth sighed as she looked into one of the pans. She was providing food at the moment. "That was only in the beginning…"

"Stop it." James felt uncomfortable about the whole thing.

She laughed at him. "I'm only making things up as I go along."

"It sounds too frightening. Don't. We like to think we seduce a woman because we're great, not that we're actually swallowed alive by some conniving predator," James complained.

"Tsk. If it makes you happy, I could tell you that you're really great."

"But not with that knowing, indulgent little smile that says I can believe that if I want to, but that it's actually not true, because you know better. That smile my mother uses on me when I don't know I'm wrong."

"I don't know that smile."

"It's the same smile your mother uses." He was not sure Elizabeth had such a smile herself. After all, she could have taken her theory much further, but she had stopped immediately when he had told her so. She was not conniving. Their mothers might have continued indefinitely.

"My mother?" Elizabeth asked curiously.

If she had ever seen the smile, she would have misinterpreted it, he feared. "You can't take your mother at face value. I got the feeling she was laughing at me in secret."

"Really?" She was surprised. "Why would she?"

"I don't know. Because I was a little nervous about meeting her, maybe." He had been nervous. She was the queen, after all. And she was Elizabeth's mother. He had not wanted to make a bad impression on his mother-in-law.

"She would laugh at that, yes. She knows she's harmless."

James did not agree. "Harmless?" he gasped incredulously. "She's far from being harmless. Have you ever asked your father about it?"

"No, I haven't."

"I bet he'll agree with me."

Elizabeth gestured for him to get some plates. Dinner was ready. "Do you think I'm harmless?"

"Yes, you are," James said after thinking for a few moments.

"But I look like my mother."

He shook his head. "You look like your father."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"You don't even know us well," Elizabeth protested.

"If it's that obvious to someone who doesn't know you well, it's got to be true," James said with a shrug and he stuck out his tongue. "I am right."

Part Fifty-Nine

Friday Evening

Elizabeth had come to the theatre with James to save time, because they were going to Merscombe Hall afterwards for the weekend. He had got her a seat so she could see the play again and he had told her to wait there until he would come to fetch her. She had expected him to come through one of the doors or something like that, but not that he would beckon her through the curtain. Only half of the audience had left yet and she looked at James self-consciously, but he kept beckoning. "Is this allowed?" she asked before she climbed onto the stage.

"I don't care if it isn't." James stretched out his hand and hauled her up. He pulled her behind the curtain, still wearing his character's outfit, but he had taken off the make up. "It's quicker." It was a shorter and easier way than having to guide her through the foyer.

Elizabeth followed him through dimly lit spaces and passages until they arrived in the more brightly lit corridor with the dressing rooms. She knew where she was now. "Don't you have to share this room?" she asked when they went in. Surely there could not be a private room for everybody.

James began to take off his clothes as soon as he was inside. "I share it with someone in the other play. She --"

"She?" Elizabeth was quick to interrupt.

"She uses it on the days I'm not here. I hardly ever see her except on Sundays." James wondered if Elizabeth was jealous. There was no reason to be.

"Why couldn't she share with Celia? Just wondering," Elizabeth said quickly when she saw his face. He might think it a stupid or annoying question.

James looked amused. "Just wondering?"

"Yes."

"Because Celia is sharing with another woman. The other play happens to have more women in it. I can't help that. I didn't write that one. Sorry. You probably think I should have left Celia out of this one as well, don't you?"

"She fits the part, so I'm not sure. Maybe you should have left the role out altogether," Elizabeth joked.

James laughed. "How did you like it this time, now that you've read it?"

"You're good. Why doesn't it get an extension?"

"This is the extension." If by that she meant that it was running on longer than had been originally planned.

"Oh really?" Elizabeth never read the arts pages in the newspaper and consequently she had not kept up with such news. "It won't continue on even longer?"

"It might tour," said James. "But I might not go. It depends on what I'm offered." His role could be played by anybody. He could easily give up it up if he was offered something better.

"Have you been offered anything yet?"

"Yes, but…" James hesitated. He had not yet taken any decisions about those offers. "I don't know if I could leave you alone."

"Why not?" Elizabeth left James alone every day when she went to work. It would be different from a week or a month, but still. "It won't be forever."

"I know." James looked at her as she leant against the table. It had been such a short time, but already he was wondering if he could survive a separation. He did have the most beautiful girlfriend on earth, so maybe he was justified in worrying. "Who knows who might try to seduce you if I'm away?"

Elizabeth thought that funny. "How many men have you had to pull off me so far?"

"One?"

"Who?"

"Francis." Well, he had not literally been all over Elizabeth, but he had been in the front garden, which was close enough.

"He's not interested in me," she laughed.

James found that hard to believe. All men had to be interested in Elizabeth. He did not want any men to go after Elizabeth, however, and yet if they thought her unattractive they were blind and had no taste. "Of course Francis is interested in you."

"Why?" Francis was a friend and nothing more.

"Because he's a man." All men would be interested in Elizabeth.

"What's that got to do with it?" she asked.

"Men are generally interested in woman, apart from those few that are not."

"So?"

"You're a woman. It follows that Francis is interested in you."

"Do all men operate so indiscriminately? To be interested in any woman at all?" Elizabeth mocked.

"You're not any woman. You're the woman. The rest are nothing but wannabes."

"Whoa Jamie." Elizabeth allowed herself to be embraced, but she had to react to his words. "What about your mother?"

"Mothers aren't women," James said seriously. "They're mothers."

"What if I have a child?" she asked. "I'll be a mother. Will I stop being a woman?"

"Mmm. You'll be the exception." Elizabeth would always remain a woman.

Friday Evening

James' father was still up when they arrived at Merscombe Hall. He was standing next to Lucy waiting for them to park the car. Undoubtedly he wanted to see what kind of girl his son was bringing home. Elizabeth could only see the outline of his figure because the light was behind him and it was dark outside.

Lucy felt comfortable enough to kiss Elizabeth's cheek in the same way she greeted James. "Hello Elizabeth."

James' father only shook her hand. He introduced himself with a mumble that sounded like Marius, something Lucy confirmed when she repeated it more intelligibly. Elizabeth could still not see his face very well. She could not see if he was more like his father or his sons.

Lucy ushered them inside and offered them something to drink. She disappeared in the direction of the kitchen, while Elizabeth followed James and his father into the sitting room. She was not prepared to find it full of young men. The shock of seeing them made her incapable of counting them at first and she only stood gaping, until they all rose. They were all leaving?

James stepped back and looked at her. He could have known all his brothers would be here, but he had not thought of warning her about it.

Elizabeth counted six brothers. She was in a room with eight men and they were all still standing, staring at her expectantly, like dogs waiting to be thrown a stick. "Sit?" she tried. It would work on dogs. Apparently it worked on men as well. She was amazed. They all sat down except James. Lucy had done some great work here. "Wow." Elizabeth balanced from one foot onto the other, wondering what she should do next. "I don't know what to do," she said softly to Lucy when Lucy appeared with two glasses. "They all sat down when I told them to."

"What have you got that I don't?" Lucy whispered back. "Very good, dear. Now tell them to go into the kitchen and wash the pans."

"Go into the kitchen and wash the pans," Elizabeth told the room. She did not think it would work. James' brothers were not stupid, were they?

Part Sixty

Friday Evening

Elizabeth had no firsthand experience with male family members who were unwilling to do household chores, since her family had servants, but she had read about them. She could readily believe that Lucy had trouble with the boys. "Well?" she asked when they did not move but only looked at her sheepishly.

There was incomprehension in their eyes. Could she really be ordering them? And how impolite or disrespectful would it be to laugh at her and say there was no way they would do that? They looked at James, but he did not feel compelled to help them out. His face was impassive. And which pans was she talking about anyway?

"Are they always like that?" Elizabeth asked Lucy. If they were stupid enough to obey her like dogs, they deserved to be teased a little.

"Only with female visitors," Lucy assured her.

"Are you like this to James?" one of the brothers asked hesitantly. He got several glances from the others. Apparently they had all been wondering.

"Yes, but he's already done his share today, so he's off the hook."

Eight heads turned towards James, but he did not flinch. "What kind of difficult thing would he have to do to please you?" the same brother asked and the eight heads turned back to Elizabeth. Some were evidently snickering.

She smiled sweetly. "You're obviously too sharp for your age, but you sound just old enough to be appointed Head Dishwasher. It's your task to see that the others clean the pans satisfactorily. I'll come around for an inspection in ten minutes." Elizabeth realised one more thing and that was that all seats were taken. Unless some of these boys left, she would not have a place to sit. Therefore it was vital that they left the room and vacated some chairs. She waved her hands and five of them left the room. Of James' brothers only Mark remained. Elizabeth was perplexed that they obeyed. Mark would not, of course. She had had breakfast with him the other day and he would not be impressed by her.

"Thank you, darling," said James, grasping the opportunity to choose a seat. "Can you do this on trains and buses?" That would be a useful skill indeed.

"Why did they listen to me?" she asked. "I'm not scary, am I?"

James patted the couch beside him. "No, you're not scary. I even dare to sit next to you. Sit."

"What did I do?" Elizabeth sat down. "I don't understand."

"Now you're imitating your mother," he said. It was the same innocent look that could not entirely be trusted. "Except that your eyes are brown."

"Talking about mothers and fathers," James' father cut in. "What does your father do?" he asked in that politely inquiring tone reserved for questioning a son's new girlfriend.

Elizabeth stared at him. Someone ought to have told him what her father did. "Don't you know?" Life would be even more unreal if James' father turned out not to know.

"We wouldn't have any conversation if I already knew such things. What does your father do?" Marius repeated.

He knew what her father was. She was not going to tell him again. "Nothing James can't handle," Elizabeth said boldly.

Lord Merscombe himself appeared suddenly. He was too old to make sudden appearances, but the fact was that nobody had heard him coming, rather than that he had moved with surprising speed. "What is this noise?" he demanded, waving his cane about.

"James has brought his fiancée for us to admire," Marius explained. He wisely did not use the term girlfriend.

His Lordship, looking distinguished even in a peignoir, examined Elizabeth. "I knew it was a lost cause. I told him she was out of his league, but the males in our family are particularly stubborn when it comes to women."

"Should I feel insulted?" asked Lucy, but he chose not to hear her.

"Are you against it, Granddad?" James asked.

"No, she's pretty enough. Have you got good teeth?" Lord Merscombe inquired of Elizabeth.

"Why? Do you want me to bite James?"

"No. Smile."

"I only smile when I feel like it," said Elizabeth, not smiling.

"And not at old men." Lord Merscombe kept looking at her sternly when she could not suppress a smile. "In which case you shouldn't have picked my eldest grandson."

"Oh, is he the eldest? I didn't know." She knew what it meant. James would be responsible for the continuation of the family, though with six brothers that responsibility could not be very heavy. "He's got six brothers. Why should I be perfect?"

"If you plan to have children, you should be perfect," was Lord Merscombe's opinion. He continued to inspect her.

Elizabeth was used to this kind of talk and she was not as impressed as he perhaps liked her to be. It was all so silly. "Isn't it good that I'm not the eldest girl in my family? James would have to be perfect in that case and people would start blaming you if he wasn't."

"Hmm. It can be good and it can be bad that you don't think James is perfect." Lord Merscombe leant on his cane thoughtfully.

"Why don't you sit down?" Marius suggested.

"No, no. I cannot see her well if I do. And I am going back to bed. The savages in the kitchen will be ready soon, they assured me. They are making a dreadful noise."

Bed sounded like a great idea to Elizabeth. She was tired and she grabbed James' hand to get his attention. He looked at her questioningly. "Yes?"

"I'm tired. Have they seen enough of me, do you think?" she whispered.

"Yes, quite." James got up and pulled her with him. "We're going to bed."

"You're implying that you're going to the same bed," his grandfather commented with a shrewd look.

"Granddad, this is 2001." James could see Mark was nearly falling off the couch. Wait until it was Mark's turn. James would be the one to laugh then.

"Don't be cheeky. I didn't ask you what year it was. I merely noted that you seem to be headed for the same bed."

"Yes, we are, Granddad," James said politely.

"I shall question the young lady about your behaviour tomorrow morning."

Elizabeth looked shocked. "What?" she asked in horror.

"I must know if he behaved like a gentleman."

"But I don't want to be questioned," Elizabeth objected with a deep blush.

"It's in your own interest."

Elizabeth fled the room. This entire family was crazy.

"That's one door you didn't hold for her," said Lord Merscombe to James. "You'd better be quick to catch up with her. I'll question her about those doors," he said warningly.

Saturday Morning

James kicked the sheet off himself when he found he could not fall asleep again. They had not closed the curtains properly last night and a bright ray of sunshine illuminated part of the room. The weather was too good to stay in bed. They could always go back to bed if there was rain this afternoon. No, he wanted to go outside and he knew just what he wanted to do.

He looked at Elizabeth. She lay curled up with her face to his side and she was still asleep, but he could not do anything or go anywhere without her. That would be less fun. However, to wake her would be unkind and selfish. He kissed her softly, but she slept on, smiling a little in her sleep. "No, I want to go outside," he whispered when one of her hands clutched at his arm. He could not pull himself loose without waking her and yet he did not want to stay here.

"Mmmowow," Elizabeth mumbled.

"What did you say?" James moved closer to her mouth. That was a wrong move, he realised when she clutched more of him. "No!" he complained softly. "Let go of me."

"Mmmowow," she mumbled again.

"What does that mean?" It had been spoken closer to his ear now, but he still could not make sense of it.

"Half hour." She let go of his arm and curled up even more.

"I'm coming to get you in half an hour," James promised her. "Ready or not." He placed another kiss on her forehead and then jumped out of bed. He rummaged through Elizabeth's bag. No swimsuit. It was good that he had brought one for her then. He had pulled his own off the washing line and taken hers at the same time. He grabbed a few other things, shaved and then went downstairs to prepare a picnic basket.

Next Section
Back to the Original Fiction Archive