A/N: A flight of fancy that was requested/prompted by Jack E. Peace. Thank you for providing me with the opportunity to indulge my love of period writing, however bad my attempt at it may be.


Through her formative years, marriage was a distant ideal to Aubrey but now, presented with the possibility of spinsterhood, her father had begun inviting every eligible bachelor in the county to shoot and dine with them at their leisure. He hoped that a large party of well connected, if not rich, men would entice his daughter into matrimony. The difficulty lay in her complete indifference to any of the young men who paid her their addresses.

Her father simply could not fathom the concept. She was certainly a very pretty girl and extremely accomplished. She played the piano forte with technical perfection and her voice was the envy of all who heard it. The daily regimen of reading everything from prose to Hutton's words on Geology sharpened her mind to the point of superiority. Her paintings that hung in the music room were remarked upon often and her needlepoint was practically perfect. The energy she had poured into hours of practice at each of these activities was not to impress any young gentleman, it was the product of duty and a an inherent need for self improvement.

Thus, on an auspicious day she found herself seated in the east drawing room in reasonable comfort with only her father for company. He, reading the news and she, working her way through a volume of Byron, which she found too fanciful for her taste. They would be descended upon at any moment by company that she feared would prove extremely tiresome, however she was resigned to being the dutiful hostess as was required by her position after her mother's death.

At a quarter after the hour Browne, their housekeeper whose many years of service made her privy to all the foibles of her employers, came into the room and announced the arrival of a Sir Charles Beale, his sister Beale, and Col. Higgins. Aubrey reluctantly put her book down and sighed at the prospect of meeting yet another new suitor. She prefered to keep to her own small circle and the volume of recent socialization was beginning to give her a constant headache.

Col. Higgins, a close family friend was shown in and in his company were a handsome young man and a very pretty girl. "Miss. Posen, may I present Sir Charles Beale and his sister Miss Chloe Beale," the Col. said watching them all exchange bows and curtsies. Mr. Posen was already acquainted with the newcomers. having paid his customary visit due to any new persons in the neighborhood.

She took in the bright red hair and handsome features of Sir Charles. His figure was trim and his air was distinguished but cordeal. When she came to Miss. Beale a curious stirring occurred somewhere in the proximity of her heart. Her blue eyes sparkled, promising Aubrey things she could not yet put a name to. Her dress of blue silk was simple but fine and her complexion glowed with good health.

She remembered to smile politely and offer her guests a seat. "Bring the tea, Browne," she said as the housekeeper left the room. Immediately upon sitting Miss. Beale leaned forward in her seat and addressed her.

"Miss. Posen, I hope you do not find this forward but I very much like your looks and have heard a great deal about you. My brother and I are in sore need of good company and I feel as if we are already acquainted enough with reports of your character as to be fast friends." She looked over at her brother who smiled indulgently.

"You must forgive my sister, she is sometimes apt to rush ahead of the game however she is correct in one matter. We have heard a great many wonderful things about your musical talents and I hope someday to be present when they are displayed." He shifted back to hear something that the Col. and her father were discussing, leaving Miss. Beale and herself to talk.

Aubrey blushed from the compliments as well as the manner in which they were paid. She was well aware that her talents were spoken of in the area but she had no idea of them being so profusely discussed in the presence of strangers. "I beg your pardon, Miss. Beale. I am somewhat at a loss for how to reply to your kind words but I shall endeavor to live up to them."

She found herself liking Miss. Beale very much in spite of her impetuous manner. Her smile was pleasing and she was more at ease in her presence than she was with neighbors she had been acquainted with for many years. "Are you staying long in Somerset," she inquired. Her intention was to simply keep conversation flowing but she found herself genuinely hoping for a positive answer.

"My brother and I are guests of our uncle the Col," she placed a hand on her brother's arm to gain his attention, "So, you see we are quite at his mercy but we have promised him a long visit and so we shall stay for at least a fortnight if not more."

"I am glad to hear it," she said. Browne brought the tea in and she set about offering refreshment to her guests. Her eyes never wavered from the beautiful features of Miss. Beale's face for the entire visit and if she were called upon to recall the make up of her brother's features she could as soon tell you the price of beef at market.


Aubrey looked longingly across the ballroom, wishing for Chloe's presence. Being without her dearest friend was hard and it was harder still to be without the one she loved. She understood her feelings now. The beating of her heart was never so hard as when she was present and her skin cried out for the succor that only Chloe could provide.

Her fear kept her in check. It was not what she considered an unnatural inclination. Her readings had led her to encounter tales of passionate friendships between women before. Yet, they did not encompass the feelings that she kept hidden in her heart. What she felt for her friend was what she should feel for someone such as Sir. Charles.

Chloe had promised that they would be in attendance. Her time had been passed half in agony, praying for a glimpse of red hair and a ready smile. They were to meet in the ballroom and then go out into the garden together for they had much to discuss.

Mr. Swanson, one of her father's proteges approached her to ask for the favor of her hand in the quadrille. She thanked him and said that she did not mean to dance. When he had gone she observed a tuft of Sir. Charles's red hair across the room and made her way towards him, confident that she would find Chloe nearby.

Rounding the rather large dance floor proved harder than she anticipated. Her intention to move swiftly was subverted on several occasions by the crush of people crammed into her father's house. She reached Sir Charles and spared him a curtsey before opening her mouth to inquire after Chloe. It shut again when she her eyes took in the most beautiful sight she had encountered in her two and twenty years.

"Chloe," she breathed. She admired the manner in which the beautiful soft golden gown complemented Chloe's complexion. Her eyes sparkled, as did the diamond necklace around her neck. They both forgot the formality of greeting and walked together towards the open doors at the back of the ballroom.

"Well, I say," Col. Higgins remarked.

"Yes," Sir Charles replied, with a knowing glint in his eye. His sister had informed him of their mutual admiration and he approved. He and his sister were very close and each had a similar open nature and inclinations towards the same sex. It was something they had acknowledged at an early age and kept as their own secret confidence. Being twins had the advantages of intimacy beyond that of a brother and sister farther apart in age.

Their escape into the garden was barely noticed and they proceeded deeper into it's depths so that they were surrounded by the flickering shadows that the light of the torches cast against the shrubbery. Chloe shivered in the night air and Aubrey took her hands to warm them.

"I confided in Charles," Chloe said, the smooth skin of her fingers gripping Aubrey's and squeezing to fend off the response she knew was coming.

Aubrey's countenance fell and her eyes widened. "What exactly did you tell him," she whispered, even though they were most certainly alone.

"I told him that you and I were in love," she paused, "He is our ally, Aubrey and has promised to keep our secret, though it should not have to be a secret."

"Chloe, how could you know what his reaction would be," she was desperately upset at chance she had taken, "He could tell my father and we would be forbidden to see one another again. I would likely be packed off into an arranged marriage and you would be sent away from your Uncle's house." She lifted her hand to caress Chloe's cheek. "Do you not see the risk you took?"

"Charles is like us. He seeks the love of other men and understands the consequences all too well. For him it would be worse, imprisonment or death, if the circumstances were dire enough." She placed her hand atop Aubrey's as it moved from her cheek to rest over her heart. "Letting him into our confidence was the best choice I could make because now he can protect us, you may come stay with us without fear."

Aubrey sighed and watched the moving light of a nearby torch play across the face she had come to love more than any other. She leaned in, their foreheads touching and eyes melding in silent admiration. Her craving for this woman would not cease, she could feel it even now tugging her soul closer to the precipice of love's decent.

She wet her lips and felt Chloe's breath upon her face. She heard the whisper of her voice begging for their lips to meet. Unable to resist any longer she closed the space and felt the softness of their joining. Her mouth opened in a sigh and Chloe's tongue instinctively entered, creating a swirl of lust and transcendental travel she did not know was possible.


"This is my wife, Lady Aubrey," Charles said. The introductions were thus made, each bow and curtsey echoing the other. They made their way towards the garden of the great house, finding shade amongst the swaying trees. Aubrey sat in upon the blanket that was spread by a footman and tried to wait patiently. Three years had passed since that kiss in the garden of Posen Abbey and now she found herself in a very different garden, however, her circumstances were forever changed. She was Lady Aubrey now, the wife of Sir Charles and mistress of Barden Park.

Her father had achieved his goal of marrying her off to an eligible man, even if she did not love him as she ought. It was no concern of his, for she was no longer under his care and had established her own residence among the more intellectual and free thinking set that Charles moved in.

"Lady Aubrey, we hear you are to continue the tradition of the Barden Christmas ball this year. Elizabeth was very much excited by the news and has been planning for it ever since." Mrs. Allcott's words reached her through the haze of memory she was caught in.

She had been thinking of Chloe and the night they made love in the garden, hardly knowing what they were doing but trusting each other with hearts full to bursting. The feel of Chloe's warm and elegant hand under her dress and her lips trailing down her neck sucked her mind back to a more pleasant time.

"Pray, forgive me," she said, "It is very hot today." She fanned herself and used the convenient excuse to explain the flush on her cheeks. Her mind was not her own and she could almost feel the nip of white teeth on her collarbone and Chloe's lips exploring her folds. She swallowed hard and was glad when Mrs. Allcott moved away to request refreshments.

Her eyes closed and she calmed her mind, finding peace in the birdsong and sound of the wind playing at the leaves. Her hand found the edge of the blanket and her fingers tangled in the grass. She turned suddenly when she felt soft skin graze against her arm, afraid that it was one of her guests here to inquire after her health.

"You don't look very well, my dear."

Aubrey's eyes opened and a smile played on her lips. "I was just remembering," she said, her hand finding Chloe's behind their bodies, two of her fingers sat atop the her lover's hand.

"What memory could cause you such discomfort," Chloe's concern was still evident.

"I would not name it discomfort but I cannot in good conscience discuss it in company," she said her fingers squeezing Chloe's wrist.

Chloe's countenance lightened and she struggled to hide her amusement. "I confess, my thoughts moved along the same line not five minutes ago. Lady Anne's story of her darling son's first word was boring me to tears. She does go on for an indeterminate length of time. I was left with no recourse other than to imagine..." She leaned over and whispered into Aubrey's ear.

Aubrey blushed at the blatant description of Chloe's musings and found herself searching for an excuse to leave the picnic and explore the actions that the words bespoke. She was saved when Charles ventured over to them.

"Charles, Aubrey is not feeling well so I shall take her inside," Chloe said and stood, offering her hand to Aubrey.

"I hope it is no more than a headache," Charles said, a smirk crossing his lips, "By all means take my wife out of this sun and put her to bed."

"Yes, I think a nap will set me to rights," Aubrey said, "Please, make my excuses to our guests."

He nodded in their direction and laughed, turning back to the party. Three years ago they had made a pact, the three of them. They each provided mutual protection and kept each other's confidences. It had worked out rather well. To all appearances Charles and Aubrey were a happy couple who kept his sister close and no one need know the true nature of their relationships to one another.

Aubrey finally knew why no man had ever piqued her interest or made her heart flutter. She had been waiting for Chloe all along and the love they shared was more than she could ever hope for. In the comfort of her chamber it was proved time and again that no matter what point in history they presided, their souls would always seek each other out.


The sun's rays glared through the window and morning finally made its presence known. Aubrey woke with a start and sighed, turning her head. Their limbs were a tangled mess and she dared not move for fear of waking Chloe. She often took time to observe the softness of her lover's features as she slept. After a minute of quiet observation her hand grazed over Chloe's soft cheek and she bent her head to kiss the skin she had just touched, no longer willing to go another second without seeing the bright blue eyes.

"Good morning," Chloe rasped, her voice hoarse from last night's lustful activities.

"Morning," Aubrey replied. She kissed Chloe softly and pulled back to admire her sleepy features. "I had the weirdest dream... but it felt so real."

Chloe's eyes opened fully and she adjusted herself so that she could see Aubrey's face clearly. She loved mornings when she woke to hear that phrase. She only bothered mentioning it when she had a particularly vivid dream and Chloe had come to anticipate it, feeling as if they were more windows into the past than they were dreams. They were always so detailed, like hearing a fairy tale of their lives together. "Tell me about it," she said eagerly.

"Well, it all started..."