Chapter Nine

As always, dedicated to kissofdeath, KristaMarie, micha, and tabbyhearts.

Lines marked with an asterisk are taken from "The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie" by Muriel Spark.

The rest of their time in New York passed without any more outbursts from Jean. She tried hard to remain good-natured – if she couldn't love Gordon the way he loved her, she'd at least try to have a sunny temperament. It was difficult, but she treated it as a challenge. But it was not an easy challenge to undertake – she was still suffering from the most horrible longing for Teddy. Food held no appeal for her, and she began losing weight. Gordon didn't notice – he was too happy that Jean had accepted his promise ring to notice her unhappiness. She began having nightmares, nightmares where she was married to Gordon, or where Teddy left her yet again. During those last nights in New York, Jean often woke up in the middle of the night, drenched with sweat. Because of her nightmares, she had not gotten a good night's sleep since they arrived.

Their time in New York came to an end, and they once more boarded the R.M.S. Mauretania. Jean was not feeling very well – she hadn't eaten a proper meal or had a good night of sleep in nearly a week. Gordon, however, was in fine form – energetic, happy, and blind to Jean's poor health.

On their fourth night aboard ship, as she prepared for her bath, Jean fainted. Gordon was not there – he was in the smoking room – and he did not return until nearly four hours later. She had fainted just outside of the bathroom and was sprawled across the carpet. When Gordon returned at nearly midnight and found her on the carpet, he panicked. Kneeling beside her, he tried to wake her up.

"Jean, Jean darling," he said, holding her in his arms. "Please, please wake up."

To his great relief, she began to stir, opening her eyes.

"Gordon," she began, struggling to sit up. "What happened?"

"I suppose you fainted, Jean," he said. He noticed for the first time the pallor of her skin, the enunciation of her cheekbones. "Jean, are you all right?" he asked.

"Of course I am," she snapped, struggling to get out of his embrace.

"No, you're not, Jean," he said. "You've lost so much weight."

"No I haven't," Jean replied vehemently, still struggling to free herself from his arms. He refused to let her go.

"Oh, my darling," he said, stroking her cheek. She bit her tongue, wanting to scream out that she was not his darling, would only ever be Teddy's darling, even if he didn't want her. She closed her eyes as she felt tears fall down her face. "Jean, what's wrong?" he asked her.

"I'm so tired," she whimpered. It was true, and if she wasn't so absolutely exhausted, she would never allow herself to be so vulnerable, especially in front of Gordon. "I'm so tired," she repeated, beginning to sob.

He cradled her in his arms, stroking her hair softly, as she buried her head against his chest. She continued to sob, her tears soaking his shirt. Eventually her sobs abated as she fell asleep. Gordon picked her up and brought her to their bed before getting changed into his pyjamas. He brought a chair up the edge of the bed and, taking her hand in his, watched her sleep.

Gordon couldn't believe that he hadn't noticed before that she was not well – she had lost quite a lot of weight, there were dark, bruise-like marks beneath her eyes, and her skin was pale, so pale... How could he not have noticed?

She was dreaming of darkness again, floating in a blissfully empty void of nothingness. There was absolutely nothing and no one there to disturb her. And for the first time in days, she was able to sleep.

He watched her sleep, relieved that she seemed to be slumbering peacefully. He finally pushed the chair aside and joined Jean in bed. Gordon desperately wanted to take her in his arms, but he resisted, not wanting to disturb her sleep. He forced himself to fall asleep without the soothing feel of her body in his arms.

The next morning, Jean woke up feeling refreshed for the first time in quite a long time. She smiled, stretching, and slipped out of bed to take the bath she hadn't had the chance to take last night. Jean was in a wonderful mood by the time she emerged from her bath. Gordon was still asleep, and she wrote a quick note to him before going to the dining room for breakfast.

When she returned he was in the bath.

"Good morning, darling," she said, entering the bathroom. She perched on the edge of the bathtub. He reached out to take her hand.

"Good morning, Jean," he replied. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did," she said. "Thank you."

He smiled up at her. "Would you care to join me?" he asked her.

"All right," she agreed, and began undressing. Leaving her clothes draped across the sink, she took Gordon's hand and stepped into the bath, settling herself between his legs, her back resting against his chest. Gordon sighed in contentment as she settled back against him.

He nuzzled her neck, pleased when she let out a soft sigh and tilted her head to give him easier access. His kisses trailed down her neck to her collarbone, lingering there as she moaned. He slipped his hands around her hips, lifting her up. She gripped the sides of the bathtub and lowered herself onto him.

"Oh, Gordon," she moaned as she moved on top of him. "Oh, yes..."

"Jean..."

She came, her back arching, and he joined her. Once more she rested against his chest after he slipped out of her. He nuzzled her neck.

"I love you, Jean," he whispered, and she bit back a sigh. Did he always have to say that after they made love?

"I love you, too," she replied. She climbed out of the bathtub. "Let's go for a walk on deck, hmm?" she suggested.

"All right," he agreed, exiting the tub himself. They got dressed and exited their room to begin their stroll along the top deck, hand in hand.

They paused at the bow of the ship for quite a while. Jean leaned against the railings and Gordon wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she asked Gordon.

"Mmm, yes," he said, kissing her neck. "You are."

She smiled slightly. "Not me, Gordon – the ocean," she said.

"I suppose," he said. "It's nothing compared to your beauty, however."

"I'll have none of that," she said in her best teacher voice, though it was belied as she giggled slightly when he kissed her neck again.

"Where do you want to go next summer?" he asked her, and she could not help stiffening at the question. She didn't want to be with him next summer, though she knew that she would. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Just a bit cold," she lied. He wrapped his arms more tightly around her. "Um, next summer – I'm not quite sure yet," she said.

"All right," he replied. "Would you like to go back inside?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Lunch, perhaps?" she suggested, and it was his turn to nod in agreement. They entered the dining room for a quiet lunch.

Three days later they docked in Liverpool, quite late in the evening. They once more stayed at the small hotel a few blocks from the dock. The next day they took the train up to Edinburgh, back to Cramond.

"I need to go back to my flat tomorrow, Gordon," Jean said.

"Why?" he asked her.

"You know that I can't get pregnant, Gordon," she said softly.

"Oh," he replied, blushing.

"I'll be back next week," Jean said, smiling tenderly up at him.

"All right," he agreed reluctantly.

"Why don't we have lunch on Wednesday?" she suggested.

"Where?"

"Well, it'll have to be in a restaurant," she said.

"Why?" he asked, curious.

She forced herself to blush slightly. "I won't trust myself to have you over at my flat," she said softly.

"All right," Gordon said, kissing her lightly on her forehead. "Let's go to bed, hmm?"

"Mmm, yes," she replied. They walked upstairs to his bedroom and got changed into their nightclothes. She slipped into his arms.

"Good night, darling," he said, kissing her lightly.

"Good night," she replied.

Jean was so relieved to be apart from Gordon for an entire week – she had needed that time to herself. Though they did meet for lunch on Wednesday, she was glad to be able to go back to her own flat, alone, after their lunch.

But as the days passed, Jean had grown to miss him – especially his presence in bed. So she was glad when he picked her up on Saturday morning.

As soon as they arrived at Cramond, Jean began kissing him passionately.

"Oh, Gordon," she murmured, her lips on his. "I need you." He lifted her up in his arms, intending to bring her upstairs. "No, Gordon, I need you now," she said, beginning to unbutton his shirt.

"Oh, Jean," he whispered, setting her down on her feet. Jean pulled him into a deeper kiss, pressing herself up against him. He didn't bother to unbutton her dress, simply pushed up the skirt. She wasn't wearing any knickers, a discovery which made him moan with desire.

"Now, Gordon, now," she whispered softly. He didn't respond, simply pressed her against the wall. Pushing into her, he moaned as she cried out in ecstasy.

"Yes, Jean, yes!" he cried as she came, joining her a few moments later. She rested her head against his shoulder as he slipped out of her.

"Mmm," she sighed as he wrapped his arms around her waist. She looked up at him. "I suppose we should bring my things upstairs."

"All right," he agreed, straightening up. He got dressed – Jean hadn't undressed – and they brought her things upstairs. Afterwards they went downstairs for tea.

"Why don't we sleep in the orchard tomorrow night?" Jean suggested later that evening as they lay in bed.

"It's quite uncomfortable, don't you think?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"It's magical... and so romantic," she replied.

"But what if it rains?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes, though he could not see. "Och, Gordon, where's your sense of adventure? We can sleep beneath the stars, looking up at the sky... it will be marvellous. The last time we slept there we barely noticed our surroundings," she said.

He blushed, but agreed. "All right," he said. "Tomorrow night."

"Good," she replied, kissing his chest lightly. "I'll make us a delicious dinner and you can set up the orchard."

He kissed her hair lightly. "All right," he said again. He would never deny her anything.

The next afternoon Jean was busy with making their dinner while Gordon set up the orchard. When she was finished with their dinner – it was quite a simple meal, consisting of bread, cheese, apples, and a rich chocolate cake for dessert – she joined him in the orchard. He had set up the orchard just as he had the night of her birthday. It was not yet dark, though it was nearly nine o'clock, but he had lit the candles in the lantern anyway.

Jean smiled at him as she stepped into their little sanctuary. He rushed over to take the picnic basket from her hand. He set up their dinner while Jean took off her shoes and stockings. She joined him on the blanket and they began to feed each other lovingly as the sun set. They finished their meal and lay back against the pillows of their makeshift bed. She lay snuggled in his arms, looking up at the stars. A shooting star arched across the heavens.

"Make a wish, Jean," he said.

She closed her eyes and wished that Teddy would love her. But opening her eyes, she only saw Gordon looking down at her devotedly.

"What did you wish?' he asked her.

"You know that if I tell you it won't come true," she replied, closing her eyes and resting her head against his chest. He wrapped his arms more tightly around her, nuzzling her neck.

"I love you, Jean," he whispered.

"I love you," she replied, imagining that she was safely ensconced in Teddy's arms.

He continued to kiss the soft skin of her neck, feeling her sigh happily as he began to unbutton her dress. She kept her eyes closed as he undressed her, then himself, so that she could imagine that it was Teddy who was about to make love to her. She felt him spread her legs gently before he entered her.

She wanted to moan Teddy's name, but she didn't, biting down on her lower lip to stop herself. As she bit back Teddy's name, she felt herself become peculiarly detached from her body, as though she was not a participant in the act.

"Oh, yes," he whispered hoarsely as he pushed into her. "Yes, Jean, yes!" She could feel him thrusting within her in, though she was still disconnected from her body.

"Oh!" she heard herself cry out, her eyes still closed. With a jolt, she fell back to earth and re-entered her body. She opened her eyes, looking up at her lover, who was stroking her hair, looking down at her concernedly.

"Are you all right?" Gordon asked her.

She blinked dazedly. "Why wouldn't I be?" she asked him confusedly.

"You fainted," he said.

"I did?" she asked him. He nodded. "Well, I am fine," she said.

"I'm glad, Jean," he said. She closed her eyes once more and rested her head against his chest. "I love you."

"I love you too," she replied, her eyes still closed. She fell asleep, wrapped in his arms.

They were woken up next morning by birds singing brightly. It was daylight and the sun had begun to stream through the boughs of the apple trees, lighting up their bodies. He kissed her lightly as she awoke.

"Good morning," she whispered softly.

"Good morning," he replied. "Did you sleep well?"

She nodded, looking up through the branches of the apple trees at the sun. He watched her as the sun gently slid up her body, caressing her skin. She was so beautiful in this moment, this moment in which the sun loved her as much as he did. Jean rolled onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows, and looked at him.

"Let's go in and have breakfast, shall we?" she suggested, and he nodded. Jean stood, wrapping a blanket around her, and he rose as well, as though in a dream. Bending down, he kissed her softly, and she returned the kiss, but pulled back shortly after it had begun. He rested his forehead against hers and looked into her eyes.

"You're so beautiful, Jean," he whispered, and she smiled up at him.

"Let's go in to breakfast," she said, and he nodded, his eyes still fixed on her. She looked at him strangely. "Are you all right?" she asked.

He nodded, still watching her. She laid a hand on his cheek, breaking him out of his trance. He bent down and picked up his trousers, stepping into them. He then shrugged into his shirt. Taking her hand, they walked into the house.

Later that evening, they returned to the orchard to bring the rest of the blankets and the remains of their picnic inside. She had wanted to sleep outside again, but Gordon had insisted that they sleep in his bed tonight. Jean had sighed in disappointment, but had not protested further. It would be a long three weeks if she started arguing with him already.

She couldn't sleep that night, and late that night she slipped out of her lover's arms. She shrugged into her dressing gown and began to wander the halls. She stopped downstairs in the living room and curled up on the window seat. Pressing her forehead against the cool glass, she stared out into night.

How much longer could she be with Gordon? She didn't know. She didn't love him enough to remain with him, but she had no choice.

Jean heard footsteps on the stairs.

"Jean?" her lover's soft voice called out to her.

She sighed quietly. "Yes, Gordon?" she replied, not turning around. She heard him coming up behind her, felt the cushions on the window seat sink as he joined her.

"Aren't you coming back to bed?"

"In a bit," she replied, still staring out into the night.

"What's wrong?" he asked her.

Finally she turned to him – tears were cascading down her face. He looked at her in amazement, his thumb gently wiping away her tears. She leaned forward and buried her face against his chest.

He held her tightly to him, stroking her hair.

Eventually she pulled back. "Let's go to bed," she whispered, and he nodded. They returned to his bedroom, and once more Jean slipped beneath the covers and into his arms, the arms which held her so tightly to him – against her will. She slid into a restless sleep, still trapped in Gordon's embrace.

The rest of the summer passed quickly and school began again. It was her girls' last year with her as a teacher, and Jean was terribly saddened by that thought. But her girls would always be Brodie girls.

Jean was quite pleased that she would only have to spend time with Gordon on weekends, and was very glad that she would have her girls with her on Sunday mornings. Though she had enjoyed the summer – parts of it, at least – she did not regret it coming to an end. She still spent the weekends with Gordon, but thankfully not the entire week.

Though Jean had wished, that one night in the orchard, that Teddy would love her, he did not confront her at all. She was deeply saddened – and partly relieved – by the fact that he didn't confront her – sad that he obviously didn't love her as she loved him, and relieved because she knew that she would not be able to resist him again. Jean didn't want to give in to him – deep down, she didn't believe that they would have a happy ending.

But Jean still longed for Teddy, even while she was with Gordon, even though she believed, deep in her heart, that even if he did love her as she loved him, they would never live happily ever after. So Jean tried, tried with everything that she had, to make herself happy. And she was successful in appearing as though she was happy, though she was not completely happy in reality. But during the last few months of her teaching she made herself adorable. She did not exhort or bicker and even when hard pressed was irritable only with Mary Macgregor. That spring she monopolised with her class the benches under the elm.* She wanted her girls to have happy memories of their time in her class when they graduated to the senior school in a month.

She and Gordon also took them out to the theatre, the opera, and the galleries a few times a month, on Sundays. The last play they attended was "Hedda Gabler", two weeks ago.

One Monday in early April, two months before they were going to leave her tutelage, Jean and her girls had one of their picnics outside. These were quite regular occurrences, but today's was different.

It began much the same as their other picnics.

"The sun!" Jean exclaimed, looking up at the sky. "Forsooth, we are renewed. Refreshment alfresco. Enough to go round, but the lion's share for Mr. Lowther. This term I have sworn to fatten Mr. Lowther by a full half-stone," she said, looking at the window of the music room. They could hear him singing "Hey Johnny Cope". "That is my pledge." She smoothly segued into another topic – or a topic that seemed like another one. "Did I neglect to tell you girls that once, on leave from the war, Hugh took me out sailing on a fishing boat. We spent our happiest times among the rocks and pebbles of a small seaport. Sometimes, Hugh would sing," she said, skilfully weaving the traits of Gordon Lowther with that of her dead fiancé. He had a rich tenor voice. At other times, he would set up his easel and paint," she continued, also adding to Hugh the characteristics of Teddy Lloyd. She needed to speak of her relationships to someone, but it wouldn't do for her girls to know too much – not yet, at least. So she carefully cloaked her present love affairs in that of the love affair of days past. "Hugh was very talented in both arts, but I think... I think the painter was the real Hugh." She didn't see Sandy and Jenny exchange a look of understanding fraught with mirth. Pulling herself out of her thoughts, she wrapped her arms around her girls' shoulders. "But you girls are my life now. I am the potter, and you are my pride. You are shaping up. Soon you will graduate to the senior school and I will no longer teach you, but you will always be Brodie girls." She looked up to see Gordon running across the lawn to them.

"Ah! Here comes our Mr. Lowther," she exclaimed happily. "Our minstrel sweet, oh, synge unto me roundelaie. Oh, droppe the brynie tear with me. De da de da de da de da, and like a running river be," she finished as he removed his cloak and sat down next to her. "Now, Mr. Lowther, you must cooperate with the fattening project," she said, buttering a cracker. "It will enrich your voice." She stuffed the cracker into his mouth. "Caruso had the appetite of a giant," she said.

"What good care you take of me," he said, smiling at her.

She granted him a smile and began leading her girls in song.

"La, la, la, la, la-la

La, la, la, la la-la..."

He interrupted her singing.

"I was noticed at the theatre," he whispered as she buttered another cracker. "I was noticed and reported to Mr. Gaunt."

"Mr. Gaunt?" she asked, looking at him. He nodded. "Oh, that deacon at Cramond. Whatever for?"

"Well, he considered Hedda Gabler... well, he said that the choirmaster of his church had no business attending that sort of thing with an unmarried lady, and children," Gordon finished. He saw Jean's girls looking at him. "O-oh, I defended myself," he said. "Fiercely."

"Girls, as you hear, there's now been an attempt to persecute Mr. Lowther on our account. One must never succumb to provincial ignorance. Mr Lowther did not," she said, smiling at him lovingly. He tentatively returned her smile. "Nor shall anyone under my tutelage. Now, eat up, Mr. Lowther," she said. "What is it, Sandy?" she asked, noticing that Sandy was looking at the school building.

"Miss Mackay is watching us from her window," Sandy replied.

"Oh, indeed," Jean chuckled, bending down to look at Miss Mackay. "I wonder how many more picnics we will be allowed before Miss Mackay thinks fit to patrol the grounds," she finished, waving her fingers at Miss Mackay, who let the curtain drop. Jean straightened up. "It is Miss Mackay's hope to harass me into leaving Marcia Blaine. Miss Gaunt and certain teachers have taken to bidding me good morning with predestination in their smiles."

"Do you really think Miss Mackay wants to drive you away?" asked Jenny worriedly.

Jean laughed. "It doesn't signify what Miss Mackay wants. Here I am and here I stay. I would not leave you girls for the Lord..."

"Lyon, King-of-Arms," Sandy interrupted her.

Jean laughed again. "Not even he! I shall remain in this education factory where my duty lies. If they want to get rid of me, they'll have to..." she chuckled, "assassinate me!" Her girls and Gordon laughed with her. "Now, eat up, Mr. Lowther!" she said, popping a cracker into his mouth. "Cooperation is the key note. Now, Jenny, do us a cartwheel for comic relief," she said. Gordon and Jean resettled themselves on the bench surrounding the elm tree and watched Jenny cartwheel, applauding.

"Oh! Wonderful!" Gordon said.

"Oh, bravo, bravo!" Jean cried. Jenny settled herself at Jean's feet, resting her head against Jean's knee.

"These are my girls, Mr. Lowther," Jean said, turning to Gordon. "Forsooth, they are Brodie girls. Monica... Monica is histrionic." Monica looked perplexed. "She will perform in plays, or perhaps write them. Mary... our Mary is alone in this world. Her needs are great, but she has me. Mary will stop stuttering, she will brisk up. Mary Macgregor will distinguish herself for mer. I have no doubt. Then there is Jenny," Jean began, stroking Jenny's red-gold hair. "Sometimes I feel there is a spiritual bond between Jenny and me. I don't expect Jenny feels this yet, but someday she will. And Sandy... Sandy is..." Jean trailed off, unable to describe Sandy.

"Sandy is dependable," Sandy interjected. Jean and Gordon laughed.

"Oh, Sandy. Sandy is very dependable. Now, Monica, recite for us, please," Jean requested.

"What shall I recite, Miss Brodie?" Monica asked.

"Something... something of magic."

Monica nodded.

"There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be..." she, Jenny, and Sandy broke out into giggles.

"Mr. Lowther, the Philistines are upon us," Jean said disapprovingly, beginning to recite the poem herself, slipping into a dream-like state where nothing seemed real.

"She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights,
For often through the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
And music, went to Camelot;
Or when the Moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed.
"I am half sick of shadows," said
The Lady of Shalott."

"The Lady of Shalott," Jenny repeated.

Jean smiled down at her favourite girl. "I think perhaps someday, Jenny will catch the eye of an artist. Jenny will be painted many times. In years to come, I think that Jenny will be famous for... sex," Jean finished. Jenny would be painted by Teddy, Jean decided, though she had already unconsciously decided that quite some time ago. And Jenny could be Teddy's lover...

Gordon looked horrified. How could Jean be speculating on such things – Jenny was only fourteen years old. But then Jean turned to him and smiled dreamily, and all things were forgotten as he lost himself in those limpid blue eyes that looked like the sea.