Numerous dreams I'm pregnant (too many to count); Preying Mantis is still up to no good; one tea party; and one serious aftermath quarrel after tea party.
"Here you are, what a fine looking baby boy," the Doctor hands to me as we smile at each other.
"Where's my baby…the baby is gone…Mark the baby," as all quiet me down and an empty blanket is handed to me with wicked Kathryn flying by window on what appears to be a broom.
5:00 AM Wake up in horrible sweat and breathing very heavy, " Mark," but he is not there. It is 5:00 A.M. and he is not here. Looking through covers thinking I would see him hiding underneath, but throw back to have marital bed empty.
Wait note, "Darling, could not sleep so decided to walk back over to office to complete some work, hope I didn't startle you." Mark
What no love Mark, no early morning kisses and playful tumbles, and no longing looks in the eyes, "placing two hands on my cheeks, "great I'm now tragic ambassador wife in cold marriage and barren as well never to conceive child, I will be childless." I realized as I began to weep.
Tea party a disaster, husband is stoic and quiet, and I am still baffled by attention of Mark, no I mean William Thatcher. The resemblance is uncanny.
7:00 AM After momentary thoughts of childless existence have pulled self together.
8:00 AM Mr. Thatcher all of 25, and still looking very much like husband has served me breakfast. Mark must have looked similar in his reckless youth, not that a Darcy would be reckless, as not in their genes. Still resemblance is uncanny, "Mum, thought you would enjoy this," it was a white rose.
Wonderful spell broken after breakfast to hear shrill coming from husband's study, I think I will check in on what is going on.
Have begun to wonder through residence to witness the gross familiarity of someone who has propped red stilettos on husband's desk in library.
"I know darling, yes well you know the life of someone so brilliant having to work with countless inept politicians, and in particular this weak minded pouf of an interim Ambassador." Bridget holds her mouth not to alert Kathryn that she is eavesdropping. "Yes, you were right darling and the wife is an easy mark and somewhat of a half wit, I don't know what you ever saw in her." Bridget mouths, " wot," wondering who she could be discussing her social ineptness with on the phone. "Sorry duty calls darling." She laughs with another high pitch shrill that is positively disturbing.
Phone rings again. "Yes, I realize you are impatient but I think we will be able to destabilize relations between the two countries, at which point I want my full share of the…" suddenly a crash as Bridget leaned over knocking a vase onto the floor.
"Kathryn, Hi…" Bridget realized she was there looking at her picking up the pieces.
"Silly me just not watching where I'm going and still getting used to this vast estate," she looked at me with disdain and I couldn't help my journalistic appetite had risen. I will find out what she is all about.
"Ms. Jones," she arrogantly addressed me back as not wanting to be bothered.
"Mrs. Darcy," I said correcting her in which she seemed less then amiable to receive correction from me.
"Will you meet me in the study in 30 minutes," I said and was ready for her to decline but she agreed. I need to size her up.
10:00 AM "Kathryn I think you take far more liberties then you should, I don't know if you are aware that you are his secretary not his wife?" I said staring at her as she sat in the chair of my husband's study, almost with cat like prowess we were sizing each other up ready to have some scratching fit, which I assure you she would come out on the bitter end. "Also, you may want to rethink your dress as it gives the impression of, well I will say it, being a whore." Directing my stare at her and hopefully giving her the uneasiness that I found her dress less than pleasing.
She was appalled. "Well you may think me a bit of a tart, however I have the body, and well let us say darling that if I carried such an additional load like you, perhaps I would want to hide it" "I after all can understand your insecurities." She shoved her nose in the air with utter snobbery, is that a word?
How impertinent, she just referred to me as fat and that I had saddlebags all over. Actually made me sound Pillsbury Dough Boy or something.
"No need to get personal, but as long as you are in our employment your dress should reflect reserve not prostitution." "It had to be said." I said standing with a note of propriety and formalness but with a high pitched irritation.
Leaning on desk and now looking at me in eye-to-eye fashion. "Unlike you, I am my own woman, and since my position does not bear on what you, and your ineffectual poxy of a husband I suggest you spend your time in the gym instead of assessing my body, or admiring it," then coming over to me she smiled again wickedly, "and if I should take your husband as I very might well, at least he will be more satisfied, then with you, you frump bag."
That slices it. I pulled her from seat and grabbed her locks, "Now…let go."
"No, I've had enough of you, and besides I have immunity here," as I cast her onto the floor. I don't know what got into me. Suddenly I felt like Mark in one of his slugfest with Daniel.
And with that we began to have a slap fight as I tore at her and pushing her to the center of the main foyer, where I fell upon someone's foot, the Prime Minister's foot, and an all to familiar Italian made shoe, Mark who said "Excuse me gentleman if you will," and then escorting us both up and arm in arm to his study closing door behind us.
"Care to explain the row I just witnessed," he said. "Was this some sick and perverted rehearsal on wrestling for our Prime Minister, decided that female wrestling would be more entertaining then the string quartet I requested," he stared at Kathryn with dark darting cold stare.
I looked smug and then he turned to me. "Darling, is this going to be the general custom to slap our staff to show the superior strength in Britain among first ladies?" He was pacing at this point with hands behind his back.
"Well, I was just about to make arrangements, when your wife came onto me, something about how hot," He cut her off.
"Kathryn that will be enough, find me the quartet, straighten yourself up, and make sure Mr. Thatcher brings our guest tea." He barked the orders and she scurried on her way. But looked back with an icy stare.
I was about the leave and he grabbed my arm, "You darling," he was about to say.
I interjected. "I'm not interested in her, she is trouble and what's more she is trying to ruin us, and ruin or lives, and she is planning trouble because I heard it on the phone, and get into your pants as well."
"Bridget enough, you have to trust me for once," he said. "I need you… I need you to be the picture of perfect decorum and to resist this childish behavior, she dresses like a tart but she is competent and I don't love her I love you." He said sternly as I heard him sigh and look at me as if I was that one nerve popping up from his head.
"You need to be careful, she is up to something, and I know it." I said grabbing his hand.
"We don't accuse innocent people Bridget," he said preparing to leave the study.
"Bridget what is that rose?" He looked at me suspiciously.
"A secret admirer, what do you care," and with that he was a loss for words wanting to say something but unable and pulled between wife and responsibility.
"We will discuss this later." He said.
He looked at me oddly and I upset prepared to leave for the day grabbing my coat, "Bridget," he yelled I turned back wiping a tear. I was off.