Journal Journeys_Late to Class

Julia's voice purred close to his ear, breathless, spent, satiated, "Oh William, that was spectacular."

"Mmm," seemed to be all he had left, yet his chuckle at his own state of exhaustion suggested he had a bit more remaining energy than he had thought.

Julia joined in the humor and teased, as she turned her head to nibble on his ear, "I do hope you'll be able to make it to work, detective."

He rolled them over, putting Julia on top, wrapped his arms and legs around her, breathed in the scent of her and replied, "Perhaps we should call in sick today," tilting his head, inviting her to kiss him – Which she gladly did.

Later, dressed for work and sitting at the tiny table in their hotel suite, they shared plans for the day over breakfast. Excitedly William told her that the house construction was going along very well. Julia asked him to pull out the plans – She had been thinking, and wondered if it were not too late to make an adjustment. William asked what she wanted to change, figuring he knew the plans so well he would not need to pull them out to determine if it could be done.

Julia's hesitation signaled some potential trouble. For her part, she was concerned that they might disagree about what she was thinking, and she was trying to decide if it would be better to put it off till another time. She decided to barrel ahead. She exhaled strongly and lifted her eyes to meet his firmly, provoking William's stomach to twinge with worry. He held the unwavering eye-contact and tried to prepare himself.

"We agreed we need a live-in nanny," she started.

He nodded. "So, the 'servants' argument again," he thought.

Julia continued, "And that we will need someone part-time to clean and cook …"

William nodded and added, "Yes, the house itself will help with the cleaning."

She knew he was particularly proud of the innovative appliances he had designed into the house, such as a cupboard that washed the dishes, and even one to wash and dry clothes, and so warned herself to be careful here. Leaning back in her chair and placing her napkin down on the table, she said, "Yes, your inventions will help with cleaning the house, but we will still need someone to put the dishes and dirty clothes in the appliances … and then take them out and put them away later. That will take a lot of time, William, and work."

Now here was the crux of it. They had reached the point where they disagreed… and they both knew it. William thought he could skirt the issue by focusing on whatever she specifically had in mind for the building of the house, completely avoiding the moral debate over whether a person should be responsible for their own maintenance in the world. He asked, "So what did you want to change about the house plans?"

She sighed. She had decided to state it plainly. "William, I believe we need to add a residence for a live-in maid as well… She can also do the cooking," she said as calmly as possible.

William's mind shot down multiple paths at once. His innovator side envisioned the plans, and knowing it was too difficult to change the foundation of the house at this stage of construction, he imagined building a second story over the first-floor nanny's quarters. His hedonistic side envisioned coming home from work to be met by a maid who took his hat and coat, the smell of warm beef stroganoff wafting through the air – But, in his heart he felt shame accompanied with this vision of himself. Good people didn't see themselves as more deserving than others. Strong, hearty people took care of themselves, at least that was what he was taught, and it seemed to be a part of how he defined himself. The emotions won out. He answered, with a wrinkle of concern at the corner of his mouth, "Julia, I think we should do some of these things for ourselves."

Pushing away from the table and standing up, she argued, "But William that is unrealistic! We both work long, hard hours… And we will want to have some time and energy for each other – And our child, when we get home … Not for cleaning and cooking!" Her eyes met his. They seemed to be pleading with him to see reason. "William, when you married me you became a man who could afford these things. You say you want to make me happy. Well making me clean diapers and scrub floors will not make me happy," she said, planting her hands on her hips.

William stood, turning his attention to clearing the dishes and preparing the cart to be returned to the kitchen.

Annoyed that he was either stalling, or avoiding answering her all together, she pushed, "Well?"

He kept his head down and quietly said, "It seems the clothes still don't fit the boy." He sighed. He felt completely stuck.

Julia's arms flung out to her sides, demonstrating her exasperation, "What do you mean by that?" she demanded.

William knew that honesty took the most courage. It always had. He lifted his eyes to meet hers. He said, "It is always me who has to give in, bend, change, adjust. You always get your way."

Every cell in his body waited for her strike. Right now she was stunned; she had actually had to take a step back to catch her balance, wobbling from the shock of his accusation. Her mouth was agape, her eyes out of focus. But he knew it was coming, and it would be powerful, stinging. He was rushing to pull up his defenses. He didn't want to be there when she attacked. Her hands started the assent to her hips. Her eyes narrowed, turning to mere pinpricks of black targeting from within the heavenly blue. Her chin was still dropped, but it was only a matter of time until she pulled up her jaw to engage her lips in battle. He did not want to be there for that. He serenely stated, "We can't argue about this now. We'll be late for work." Then he turned to walk to the foyer, lifted his hat to his head.

Her voice steamed behind him, "Don't you dare walk out that door. You think you can say something like that and then just walk away?!"

William paused, his back to her, trying to decide what to do. Not looking back he said, "We'll have to discuss it tonight," as he stepped to the door and pulled it open.

Fighting disbelief again, she called out after him, "You cowardly little piss-ant!"

As he closed the door behind him, he knew she was right. He would bike to work, hoping that there would not be a dead body called in today – hoping he could avoid seeing her until they would have time to work it out later. The physical exercise would help alleviate some of the urgency that pumped through him due to his worry.

Julia stood staring at the closed door. The sight of it only made her fury burn stronger. She wanted to hit something, break something… She had flung it to the floor before she even thought of picking it up – their wedding-day photo. Broken glass sparkled across the floor. Shame and regret immediately flooded through her. She knew she had a temper, but this reaction surprised her. She was only grateful that William hadn't seen her do it. She could clean it up – perhaps he would never know. Rage still seethed through her veins as she carefully collected the shards, "Always get my way, my a**," she thought. "If I always got my way, he'd have stayed and fought … little piss-ant," she fumed.

Making a mental note to stop by the store and buy a new frame for the photo, Julia rolled the food cart into the hallway to be picked up by the kitchen crew later. Consciously making an effort not to slam it, she closed the door behind her. "While you're at it," she thought to herself, "Perhaps you could unclench your jaw."

Unpinning her hat and laying it down on the table in the foyer, she realized William was not yet home. She had seen his bicycle still parked at the station, so she wasn't surprised, but still, she thought her stop at the store to purchase the picture frame may have sufficed to allow for him to arrive first. She wondered if he would ever notice the new frame, "Most men wouldn't, but William isn't like most men," she thought. She felt a sense of relief that she had replaced the frame before he got home. A glass of wine sounded good, but she didn't want to be drinking when they had their 'discussion' so she abstained.

Knowing it would make her anxious to just sit and wait for him, she decided to take a shower. The hot water felt so good as it flowed over her, steaming and kneading the knots out of her muscles. Since becoming pregnant, she found she was much more tired after a day's work than she used to be. Soaping her belly, she couldn't help but soften when thinking of William. She still couldn't really believe their good fortune for her to be able to have a baby – his baby and her baby, their child. She heard it first in the back of her mind – William's voice, low and despondent, "It seems the clothes still don't fit the boy." It evoked such a feeling of hopelessness, of failed struggle, in her. It felt so familiar, close ... and sad. "What did he mean by that? … It seems the clothes still don't fit the boy," she thought.

His voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Julia, I'm home. Should I order dinner?" he asked.

"Um, yes William… I'll be right out," she answered.

"Good," he said.

A creepy, sick feeling of dread grew in her stomach. Her anger seemed very far away. She dressed and pulled her hair up, not wanting to have this discussion in her robe.

He was sitting on the sofa. He'd taken off his jacket and vest, even his tie. He was reading a science magazine. Their eyes met, his dropping away quickly. He stared at the magazine, unable to read it. "I really don't want to fight Julia," he said.

"I don't want to either," she said, slowly, deliberately, sincerely. She sat down in the chair across from him. She wished he could feel her love for him. It wasn't done yet, but she knew with all her heart that they loved each other and that they would work it out. But somehow, looking at him there, eyes down on the magazine, rubbing his forehead in distress, she thought he didn't feel the same.

They stayed quiet for a surprisingly long time, neither one wanting to be the first to speak. William lifted his head, glanced her way, and deeply exhaled away some of the tension in his body. Looking her in the eye, he started, "You were right, it was cowardly of me not to … stay and talk this morning." His eyes were gone again. He sighed. "It just feels too big," he thought to himself. He went back to turning the pages of the magazine.

Julia leaned forward in her chair. "William," she said, "There are two ways to go about this; we can address the particulars –whether or not to hire a live-in maid, or we can talk about what makes this such an issue for … us."

He thought, "She was going to say, 'you,' – what makes this such an issue for you. I don't even think she sees that it's an issue for her too." They both knew they needed to address the issue. He tried again, leaning forward as well, he said, "I think it's a class issue. Do you agree?"

"Yes," she concurred. She waited for him. He seemed to be on the way to making a point.

Sighing, and scratching his forehead, he went on, "We grew up in very different ways, and … well, those differences made us each who we are. They instilled in each of us certain … values – ideals for what is the right way to be in the world." Julia nodded. "Oh, how do I say this … without sounding judgmental – without being hurtful?" he considered. "And each of us thinks our way is right," he said, wrinkling his face, showing his admission.

She picked it up, "But sometimes we have to make a decision – and we can't both be 'right,' … And from what you said this morning, you think the one who gives up what they think is right is you, more so than me?" He sighed and nodded. She felt her anger stir again. "He is so arrogant and self-righteous sometimes," she thought. She could tell he saw it.

He exhaled strongly, through pursed lips. "Here it comes," he thought. He reminded himself to look her in the eye – be strong.

"Do you think I would have wanted us to build a house for us to live in? And then, to top it off, you wanted to take out a loan to pay for it! That's just ludicrous… The only reason I agreed to such a plan was that the interest to the loan was going to be less than most of the profits we are making on our assets. Honestly William, we both know you are a smart man … And I've shared with you how much money we have. It is obvious we don't need to take out a loan. But…" she paused to take a breath. "But your male pride – We had to protect your male pride. You needed to feel like you were providing for your family," she said shaking her head in disbelief. She took a deep breath and planted her hands firmly on her hips, "Well I guess that doesn't count as me 'giving up what I think' though, does it?" She waited with a huff that sent some of her wayward curls briefly afloat.

Whatever wind there had been in his sails, it was completely gone now. He couldn't believe how much he hurt. With his elbow on the arm of the sofa, he rested his chin down onto his fist, covering his mouth. Sighing again, he couldn't imagine staying in the room with her. He stood and said, "Well, if I did have any male pride, you completely squashed it… I need some air."

Hat already on his head, he opened the door to find their dinner cart had just pulled up. Julia could hear one of the men from the kitchen ask William about his poor timing, "Hopefully you can make it back before it gets too cold, sir."

"Thanks, Ben… Don't worry about me," she heard her husband say.

In William's absence Julia quickly admitted to herself that she did not feel good about how it went. Once again, she had gone too far, had dug in and poked and stabbed at a weak spot. She noticed she sighed again. "Regret," she thought. She had to admit, that, because William seemed so eager to please her, and because she was so enthusiastic about the things she wanted, she did usually get what she wanted – got her way. And then, the one thing he really wanted, seemed compelled and driven about, was to build this house for her – "To give her such a wonderful gift," she thought as she felt tears well up in her eyes and a lump swelling in her throat. And she had just belittled it. He would not be able to feel that way about it again, not after what she had said. "Oh my god, I think I really hurt him," she thought, curling her forehead up in pain and tears pouring down her cheeks. It truly is a wonderful house – one that nobody but William could ever have dreamt up. It was a great gift he was giving her, and she had been nothing but ungrateful – and shameful.

She ate – a little. When he still wasn't back by 10:00 she became annoyed all over again. He was trying to make her feel guilty – which of course, she already did. They both had to go to work the next day – They needed to go to sleep. She figured he would not want to sleep with her when he got home, so she put out some bedding for him on the couch. She placed his pajamas on the top of the pile.

Sleep did not come. At one point she realized that, if they stuck to their plan, today was the last day they would have been able to make love. She was entering her fifth month of pregnancy tomorrow. Isaac had thought it wise that they abstain from anything that would bring about muscle contractions in her womb from then on. William was abstaining along with her, thinking that if she brought him such pleasure, it would entice her into feeling aroused as well. "He was right about that," she thought. She rolled over again. Despair drowned her. And then it seeped up again, "It seems the clothes still don't fit the boy," he had said. She remembered where she had heard it before. They were her words. She had said them. The pauper boy, Pip, who had been killed, and lay on the slab in her morgue, bones with Ricketts, but darning a wealthy child's clothes. "The clothes don't fit the boy," she had said. She knew this was important, but she couldn't quite get a handle on why.

The key turned in the door. William was home. She sat up, looked at the clock – 11:30. The lamp next to the couch went on. "He must have seen the bedding," she thought. She felt as if she had to climb up Mount Everest, but she knew she had to. Julia got out of bed and headed into the dim light.

William was down to his trousers. He turned and looked up at her. His expression suggested he would have preferred to be left alone. He had prepared the couch for the night. He sat down on it, choosing to finish changing later. He held her eyes, but made no effort to speak.

He looked gorgeous in this lighting, eyes big, skin golden and warm. His bare chest tugged at her eyes, her attention. She thought about saying she was sorry. But she knew she needed to give much more than that. Fortunately, her curiosity poked at her. She asked, from across the room, "Help me see it William. What did you mean when you said, "It seems the clothes still don't fit the boy?"

William dropped his eyes and sighed. "I'm tired Julia … and … somewhat defeated. I …" he said and then shook his head. He reached up and rubbed his forehead again. "Perhaps you can read about it – See if you can figure it out from there," he said. He stood up and walked into the bedroom. He returned with his journal. He opened it to a page, turned the page down and then found another. He had earmarked two parts for her to read. He went back to the couch and turned off the light. "Good night," he said as he lay down and slid under the sheets.

She went back to the bed and turned on the lamp. "Chronological order, I guess," she thought. She read the first page William had marked:

The Dinosaur Ball:

Tickets to the ball, thanks to the Inspector, check.

Courage to ask her to the ball, check.

Dance lessons, check.

Tuxedo rental, check.

I stood in my humble boarding room. I had a problem to solve, something I had not prepared for. The tuxedo fit well, at least I thought so, but since I had never had one on before, I wasn't really sure if it was too long in the back, or too short in the cummerbund area. I fought a bit with the bow tie. Oh, but I hadn't thought about the shoes. I only have two pairs, and so I guessed it would have to be my work shoes. Unfortunately they were a bit worn. I solved the problem with shoe polish as best as possible.

But there was another problem, a bigger, more profound one. Truth be told, I felt like an imposter. Like I was wearing a costume and would be performing in a play. It was hard to feel like I was myself in such a suit – in such an extravagant world. I felt awkward. I was worried I would blow it, that Julia would conclude that I was not the one for her.

But, the moment I saw Julia, in her beautiful and elegant blue gown, it felt right. We danced, and my excitement seemed matched by hers, as she talked enthusiastically about X-rays and dinosaur hunters. Our concept of speed being affected by the excitement in our hearts, we lapped the other couples on the dance floor with our passion. It feels like she could love me even though I am merely a policeman – even though I am not of her class, even though I don't quite fit in. Dare I dream it?!

Julia remembered that night. He looked exquisite. He didn't know it, but she had already fallen head over heels in love with him. "Well, if he didn't fit in, then I didn't either. It felt like we were two kids set loose in a toy store," she thought. She turned to the next entry, recognizing right away that it was from the time she had remembered earlier – a time when she was with Darcy, not with William. Whatever the significance of his haunting words, they were spawned from her own lips.

Miss Moffat's case:

"The clothes don't fit the boy." Just an observation of Julia's. The world as seen through her eyes. Of course, she would notice even though I could not. She, from her upper-crest of society, her class of wealth and power, she would be able to see that Pip did not belong in that world – her world. And so it is with me as well. I really never had a chance – I guess she could always see, that I did not fit. Only someone like Dr. Darcy Garland, a man from her world, could wear the tuxedo next to her – stand with her at the altar, have a little statue in his image with hers, standing tall atop the cake. I guess the clothes never did fit … me. I'll never be her husband, it's true. She won't ever love me, probably never did. Friends, colleagues will have to do. Those seem to be the only clothes that fit … me.

She sighed. Julia re-read the entries, letting the realizations sink deeper in. She had to admit, that it was he who was expected to move up into her world rather than her moving down into his. But isn't that a good thing for him – to move up the socioeconomic ladder. "I guess I always assumed that he would want to do so, that if anything, my coming from wealth would be a plus on my side when considering marrying me," she thought. She sighed. She really needed to think about this.

William had not gotten one wink of sleep. He lay on the couch, his face protected and buried in its back, wanting to feel nestled and cocooned, safe and hidden away. Images conjured up in his mind, some of them tempting tears, others setting his gut afire with anger – all resulting from feeling unseen and unknown, alone and misjudged.

Julia slid in behind him. He feigned sleep. She melded her body to his, spooning him, and wrapped an arm around his waist, her hand settling on his bare chest directly above his heart. Her warmth, familiarity, fit so well with him. He started to feel stirrings. He reminded himself about his anger, his hurt. "Julia, this is silly," he said, "I'm sleeping out here to be separated from you. If we are going to sleep together, we should go to the bed. This couch is too small – and your pregnant, if you fall out, even though it is not far to fall, it could hurt the baby."

She ignored his logic. Searching in the dark to find part of his pillow to rest her head upon, she took a deep breath. Her voice spilled out into the dark silence, "From the moment you married me, you became a rich man. I did not become a working-class woman. And so, it has been you that has had to change, much more than me in this regard, it's true." She paused, took a breath, "And I see that it has been more difficult for you than I had thought – hence the image of you not fitting in the clothes." She waited, trying to determine his reaction. He had not moved, his breathing stayed shallow, nearly undetectable. A sigh escaped her body, it revealed her pain. She continued, disclosing her emotions now more than her thoughts, "It makes me sad to think …that you think… I judge you as somehow misfit, or unfit, William – for I wholeheartedly do not see you as so."

"But I am," he said, voice muffled against the back of the sofa. He rolled over onto his back and placed his arm under her, stroking her hair as she laid her head upon his chest. He tried to explain, "Julia, deep inside of me, formed before I had any choice in the matter, I learned that good, strong people – such as I am supposed to be, care for themselves. Are not dependent on others to do things for them that they can do for themselves. Good people carry their own load, and if they are really good, they help others. There is pride in self-sufficiency and generosity. Hoarding, whether it be of food or wealth, is cause for shame. I feel shame, Julia, when a servant takes care of me. I'm pretty sure you don't. I see myself as being spoiled and arrogant, believing that my behavior indicates that I feel I am superior, and thus should be serviced by others. It does not sit well with me."

She felt him lift his head, turning to look at her. Julia took a deep breath, "I see now William," she said, "I didn't before, but I do now." They were quiet for a moment. Half joking and half serious, Julia suggested, "We could just give away the wealth – to Ruby, and some charities, and live off of our salaries and pensions." She lifted herself up on her elbow and turned to catch his face in the moonlit room.

With a smirk on his face he replied, "Now that would be ludicrous." They both felt relief, in that he was agreeing that their wealth was something he wanted to keep, but, his use of the same word she had used earlier when she had disparaged his efforts to provide for his family, said it was due to his fostering of his 'male pride' – his use of her word, 'ludicrous,' now evoked a pang of guilt in Julia's stomach. She knew her words had hurt him.

Julia fought to find her deepest truth, to share it with him, for only her sincere feelings of value for what she had earlier demeaned, coupled with an explanation for why she had done so, would repair the damage she had caused. She slid up to place her lips closer to his ear and whispered, "I have to tell you something." She reached over to place her fingers under his chin, and turned him to face her. Their eyes met, through the curtains of moonlight that flowed in the dark room. "William, I regret nothing more than what I said about the house. I spoke of our building it because I needed something to use for my argument – the argument that we don't always do things my way, and the house has been 100% your way," she explained. Her mouth curled into a sly smile as she admitted, in a self-deprecating way, "And we both know I am quite invested in having a strong argument." He chuckled. She continued, "The problem with my argument was that it held that doing something your way meant that it was not my way – in this instance it implied that I did not want to build our house. And, although I never would have thought up such a plan, I have truly loved the idea ever since you first told me about it. Now I know you have no reason to trust me when I say that, but it is true. I am so proud of that house William, and of you for thinking to give it to me – to us. You should have male pride, or human pride, or whatever pride about what you are making there." She thought he looked like he believed her. She thought he looked … stronger.

"And the loan?" he asked.

"Honesty," she reminded herself. She took a deep breath. "Um, I didn't think we needed the loan… But I meant what I said about the interest rates. Assuming the rates we get from our investments stays the same, then the loan was good for our finances. Even if it ends up costing us some money in the long run, it won't be a significant amount … And at the time, I felt like it was worth the risk that it might cost a little money to have you feel pleased with your gift," she explained. She slid her fingers across his chest and finished, "Truthfully William, I was thrilled with how excited you were to give me this house – to build a house for our family. That excitement included the loan."

"Good," he said.

Julia slid her hand up from his chest, along his neck to his jaw. Her thumb teased his lips. William slipped a hand up her arm and along her neck to pinch and trace her ear. She leaned in to softly kiss his cheek, then she kissed a trail to his lips. His hand pressed firmly into the back of her head and drew her closer to him, building the intensity of their kiss. When they broke from the kiss Julia, somehow drifting away from him, said, "William, I fear your concerns about the size of this couch were well- founded…" as she seemed to slowly drop further away from him, "Help," she said with a giggle.

He pulled her up and onto his body and then rolled her over to confine her between himself and the back of the couch. Chuckling softly, warming her heart, he said, "Always willing to rescue my damsel in distress."

"Yes, you are William … Always," she answered. Her hand glided over his chest, up over his shoulder and then his arm, admiration in her eyes. She whispered, "You are, and always have been, my hero, hmm?" William kissed her deeply, passionately. Once he released her lips he moved to her neck, kissing and nibbling. His hand explored the curves of her body, rubbing, kneading, pinching. Julia moaned with delight. Her insides tightened, sparking a tiny spasm which caused her to arch up into him. The skin on her neck, awake and alert, could feel the smile grow on his face. Lust burning between them, Julia reminded him that this was the last night they would be able to make love until after the baby was born. "Perhaps the bed then?" he suggested.

Julia pushed him in an effort to free herself. He submitted, fighting to maintain his balance as he found himself only partially on the couch. She crawled over him and with glee evident in her tone, said, "First one to the bed gets to be on top." With that, she playfully gave him a shove, sending him to the floor as she stood and ran for the bed.

William hopped up quickly and bounded after. He never intended to race. No, his goal was capture, which he did, just before Julia had reached her goal. His arms moved in from both sides, clamped around her waist, and then scooped her up. The momentum of their forward motion, combined with William's plan to turn her away from the bed resulted in a delightful spin. He brought her back to the ground and deliberately backed her up against the wall. He kissed her, enjoying the feel of her supple flesh as he roughly and hurriedly traveled her curves. Finding the bottom of her night gown, he lifted it up over her head. She raised her arms, allowing him to remove it, and felt her insides ignite with desire as he tightened the gown around her wrists and used it to hold her arms up against the wall, pinning her there, vulnerable and defenseless. Her knees buckled slightly. "William," her husky voice said. His free hand savored her luscious body.

When he finally freed her arms, she stepped out from between him and the wall and turned and guided him back against it to entrap him. "Now," Julia said, "I also wanted you to know, that as for how you look in a tuxedo, well… yum." She kissed him. She lifted away from his lips and continued making her point as her hand made its way down his chest to his stomach, "You, William Henry Murdoch," she changed her angle and kissed him again, a little deeper this time. Lifting away again, she went on, hand now finding the string to his pajama bottoms, "Are always the most gorgeous man in the room," away once more, she pulled the string. "No matter what you wear," she said, then lifting an eyebrow she teased, "Of course, the less the better." Julia's hand slipped under the fabric. William moaned. With her other hand, she pushed his pajama bottoms down over his buttocks, letting gravity carry them down to the floor. Her mouth took his passionately, nearly drowning in the swimmingly delicious feelings. She pulled away, breath rushing, and kissed a trail down his neck, chest, stomach, as she kneeled, kissing and teasing him.

"Julia," he said, sounding vulnerable and desperate. She continued her actions, knowing she was driving him wild. "Julia," he pleaded. She had no intention of answering his calls. William's body twitched, thrust, as he was losing control. He so wanted their last time to be more together. In his mind the image of making love to her spurred him to regain control. He bent his knees, slid down the wall to squat in front of her. His eyes met hers. "I want you," he said.

"Then you shall have me," she said, a playful smile blooming on her face.

He knew what was coming this time. He had already started to stand up before she called out the rule to her game…

"First one to the bed gets to be on top," Julia exclaimed as they both bolted for the bed. Of course William won, and, truth be told they both were glad for it.

Julia lay on top of William. "It seems you won, detective," she said.

He nodded, "Yes it does, doctor," he replied.

"Well, before I give you your prize, please let me finish my thoughts on you and tuxedos," she requested.

"Gladly," he answered.

"William Murdoch, in a tuxedo, you are stunning – somehow the lighting at a big ceremony sets your eyes into a sparkle, and you just look … magnificent." She kissed him again. "But, what amazes me most about you," she said after pulling back and taking a breath, "Is you don't seem to know how handsome you are." Julia rolled off of him and wiggled and squirmed in an effort to tuck herself under him. He helped, rolling on top of her as she seductively said, "And, as for the little bride and groom statues, I'll have you know that you, and only you, are the man I want atop my cake."

Her words drove him wild with need. Control breached, it was now William who kissed her, wildly, deeply. He made love to her. Afterwards they clung together holding each other in a warm, cozy hug, only pounding hearts and heaving breaths providing the backbeat.

Satiated and exhausted, healed and bonded, they recovered. Julia whispered, "I'm really, really going to miss this."

He exhaled, flooding her ear and neck with a warm rumble and said, "Yes." William rolled off of her. She turned on her side, pushed her back into him. They lay side by side, cuddling together, sharing his pillow. He slipped his arm around her waist and tenderly reached down to cover her belly above her womb with his hand, then stroking and caressing his wife and his unborn child. His voice flooded into her ear, her brain, her soul, "I'm so happy Julia," he said.

Her heart was absolutely on fire with joy. She answered, "As am I, William. As am I."

Morning came too soon. William awoke feeling lustful, as was not uncommon. He reminded himself, before he lightly kissed his wife to warmly rouse her, that they would not make love. He felt challenged to control his urge as she rolled onto her back under his arm and tucked under him, feeling her breath blow hot across the skin of his neck and shoulder. She smelled good. "Increase the distance," he instructed himself. He propped an elbow into the mattress and laid his chin in his hand. "Good morning Mrs. Murdoch," he said.

Finding his eyes, melting inside once she did so in response to their warm, chocolaty touch, she reached up and played with his ear. He gave her a quick kiss and then got out of bed. For a brief moment she found herself surprised that he moved away, but then she remembered. "Oh," she thought, "That's right… This is going to be harder than I thought." She urged herself to hop out of bed as well.

They took their time eating breakfast, finding that they were dressed and ready quite a bit earlier than usual. William joked, "Well, one advantage to abstaining is going to be that I won't have to withstand the Inspector's teasing when I'm late." He wrinkled his face to show his admission and chuckled.

Julia laughed, finding herself warmed to know the Inspector knew the cause of William's tardiness. Changing the subject, she brought up the topic that had caused such trouble – servants. "William, I was thinking, well more wondering, how did you feel about Mrs. Kitchen doing your laundry, and cooking and such?"

The question seemed to send him into deep reflection. He knew immediately that he did not feel ashamed as he had claimed he would when a servant did these same things. He met her eyes, excitement bubbling to the surface, his face graced by a smile. "What a magnificent question Julia!" he exclaimed. "Not ashamed," he continued. He looked away, contemplating, searching. When he looked back she could tell he had an answer. "Grateful," he said.

Julia leaned towards him, "That's how I feel when a servant takes care of me as well, William," she explained. She began to ask, "Do you think …"

William put his fork down and, placing his elbow on the table to rest his chin in his hand, he said, his eyes dancing and sparkling with delight, "Yes, Julia. Yes. You truly are amazing. I see now. I'm not so worried… Grateful, of course." He picked his fork back up and took a bite of his French toast. Having set their thoughts back to their earlier disagreement, William decided to breech the specifics of what had started it. "And the maid?" he asked.

Julia exhaled strongly, driving some of the tension out of her body. "Perhaps Eloise …" she paused, checking to see if he recognized who Eloise was (Eloise was the maid Julia had when she was separated from Darcy and before she and William married and moved into the hotel suite) – he did, "… She has her own family; she would not want to live with us. Perhaps she would be willing to cook breakfast and dinner for us and clean in between. She could be free many afternoons, and we would have to pay her very well…" she eagerly suggested.

"Let's ask her," William replied. He thought for a moment and said, "I think we should we build the extra quarters anyway…" He looked to her, wondering if she agreed.

"Yes," she answered. She shrugged, "It could always be a guest suite too?"

"Yes, good," he said, "Good."

Standing to clear the table, William worked to thwart a smile as he said, "Oh, and I like the new frame." Julia couldn't believe it – he had noticed. He held her eyes, reveling in her look, caught, mouth open and eyes wide – "Absolutely beautiful," he thought. He stepped in close and kissed her. Yes, life was good.