A/N: hmmmmm... I'm starting to work on a little something for all you fans
of Evy pairings. If this story runs into the twentieth chapter something
interesting might happen, but at present everyone is just meandering in and
out of my brain doing nothing in particular- just like the Sims. Hope
you're not getting bored coz I'm having way to much fun to quit now!
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Chapter 13
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"Evy? Evy I'm really, really sorry- please, just come out and slap me or something," Stephen pleaded, leaning his head against the door post, speaking into the keyhole. There was no reply and he bit his lip, wincing at the huge mess he had just made of things. Any remote chance he might once have fancied he had with Evelyn Carnahan had just been spectacularly thrown out the window.
Evy didn't say a word as she opened the door and flounced out into the hallway, nose in the air, haughty expression on her beautiful but flustered face. He caught her gently by the arm.
"Look, I'm sorry about the towel, and about the, uh, door, uh thing..." he bumbled inadequately, trying to placate her with a contrite expression in his eyes. "Honestly, I didn't see anything." *Much*, he thought to himself.
"Mr Wilkins, from what I know of your escapades with my brother I would say you are demonstrably incapable of honesty. Kindly remove your hand from my arm."
Ouch, that tone stung worse than the slap he had been expecting. It was patently obvious that there was nothing he could do or say to ingratiate himself with her at this precise moment. She was mad as all getout. Oh well, as long as he couldn't possibly make it any worse... he took a deep breath and plunged in.
"Look at me, " he said, touching her chin to tilt her face towards him. Her eyes shone brightly, showing no sign of softening. "I don't want you to go to sleep angry with me," he said in a soft, velvety voice, barely above a whisper. It was his 'sweet nothings' voice, and it usually worked a charm with the ladies. Usually.
"I shant give YOU another moment's thought, Mr Wilkins!" she said scornfully, pulling out of his grasp. Stephen frowned and sought her gaze with his electric blue eyes, not letting her look away while that angry expression prevailed.
"What's all this 'Mr Wilkins' business, hmmm?" he said in a wounded tone. "I've known you since you were twelve. I was Stephen then, and I'm still Stephen now."
"Well unlike you and my brother, I have grown up since then!" she shot back, still mad.
Didn't he just know it, Stephen mused with a deep sigh. The long unruly locks and the horn-rimmed spectacles were still there, but there were a few other very noticeable differences in Evy since their childhood days. She had grown into a very fine figure of a woman since he had been away, and he could just kick himself that he had used to stick toffees in her hair and tease her about her flat chest. Back then he might actually have been in the running for her, if he had had the sense to be the least bit interested. But then his father had died, leaving a crippled business and a lot of debts, and he had been forced into the army. By the time he bumped into Jonathan again in Cairo, quite by accident many years later, he had already cultivated enough vices to win the disapproval of any kind of respectable girl's father. He knew that while Jonathan was more than happy to have him as a friend again, he would never entertain the possibility of someone like him as a brother-in-law.
"I know you think I'm a bounder and blackguard, but if you just got to know me a little better...you'd see I'm still the same old Stephen."
"That's what worries me. Do you know how long it took to grow my hair back after I had to have it all cut off because of you? Three years! And for most of that time I was nicknamed 'fuzzbuzz'!"
Stephen put a hand over his mouth to keep from sniggering, which would not be the best way to win her favour right now. He had to admit the name was pretty apt- he hair was rather a mass of frizz at times. Right now there was a little wet ringlet of it stuck to her cheek, while the rest fell in wavy cascades over her shoulders. Standing there in her damp silk robe, no makeup, hair loose and uncombed, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
"Evelyn- Evy- can't we just make a new start?" he implored her, taking a step forward as she took one back towards her bedroom.
"I'll think about it," she said in a non-committal tone, before going back into her room and shutting the door on his half formed good night.
******
"Evy, old stick, Johnny boy's home!" Jonathan called as he nudged open the front door and stepped into the hallway, the second half of the sentence trailing off as he realised all was dark and quiet. It wasn't that late, probably not long after midnight- god Evelyn was such an old biddy when it came to getting her beauty sleep! But perhaps it was best she was in bed after all; now he wouldn't have to tell her about the spectacular loss he had just incurred. She wasn't seeing that hundred pounds again, that was for sure.
"I can't believe I just did that!" he said to himself, heading towards the dining room, "And sober as well!" He went to the sideboard and opened the drinks cabinet, looking for the bourbon. "Just the one," he thought, pouring himself a very large one.
"Having a nightcap by yourself, eh Jonathan?" came a voice from the doorway behind him.
"Ah! Just the man I want to see!" Jonathan replied without turning round, getting another glass from the cabinet and pouring another exceedingly large bourbon. His friend was going to need it for what he had in mind. "Well don't lurk in doorways all night, come and join me!"
"Ah, yes that reminds me Johnny, I have to talk to you about something actually..."
"Me too, old chap- I'm afraid we have a slight problem." Jonathan interrupted, handing Stephen the glass. "You'll never guess who I had the misfortune to bump into at Dickie's house."
"That sour faced old git in the kilt?" Stephen joked, taking the glass Jonathan offered and going through into the lounge. He sat down in Evy's favourite spot on the sofa, and nestled into the cushions.
"Him too- but I was talking about the major," Jonathan said darkly, plonking himself in the overstuffed armchair next to the bookcase. "He was rather interested in your whereabouts."
"Shit," Stephen hissed, taking a large swig of bourbon. "Did you tell him anything?"
"I told him I hadn't seen you."
"Oh great! That's all you could think of? Saving your own skin?!" Stephen shouted in a bitterly accusing tone, getting the feeling that he was once again being dumped in trouble and left to find his own way out by his so called friend.
"Well I was slightly pressed at the time! You know denial is always my first impulse- its like a knee jerk reaction!" Jonathan said defensively, trying to mask his guilt about hanging Stephen out to dry. If only they had stopped to think for a minute beforehand, they might have realised Hugh was likely to be at Dickie's. Then they could have come up with some sort of convincing cover story; his Granny died, he was saving babies from a burning orphanage, he was crossing the road and got hit by a...now there was an idea!
"So I guess I'm screwed, is that about the long and the short of it? I was supposed to report in this morning, so now that makes me AWOL-"
"That's not the worst of it," Jonathan said quietly, keeping his voice down in case they should wake Evy, "That police officer..."
"The one you hit?" Stephen reminded him with a stern expression.
"No, the other one- he's dead."
"Oh shit," Stephen said again, draining the glass.
"It wasn't our fault, it was that hot tempered little sore loser Khalid! Well, he got himself into something he couldn't quite handle this time- he's dead too." Stephen looked up in shock.
"You mean...?"
"Yup, beaten to death by that copper I hit. Geez, makes you wonder what would have happened it he'd caught up with US!"
"You mean caught up with you." Stephen corrected him.
"You wouldn't have let some local hardhead beat ten bales out of your old friend Johnny, would you?" Jonathan asked with an injured expression. "That's just not cricket!"
"I might have been tempted to join in actually," Stephen said with mirthless humour. "But at least that's the last you'll hear of that five hundred pounds."
Jonathan was suddenly struck by an unsettling realisation- if Khalid was dead, then that meant the woman who had visited Evy this morning was unlikely to be anything to do with him...so who had put her up to it? More to the point, who had knocked her up?!
"Oh, Evy is going to kill me..." he muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes, all of a sudden feeling completely exhausted.
"Not before she gets through with me," Stephen muttered, looking over at Jonathan with a very sheepish expression.
"Why, what have you done to her that's so terrible?"
"Well...there was this little incident...a sort of...accident..."
"Oh, you didn't break her bust of Nefertiti, did you? That was mother's..." Jonathan said in a pained voice, looking across at the bookcase to check if the statuette was still in tact.
"No, but he got a fairly good view of MY bust!" Evelyn said with the most withering of expressions as she appeared in the doorway, wrapped in a heavy winter dressing gown as well as her flimsy cream robe, over an ankle length nightdress. "And now he has woken me up!" She fumed, remembering her previous anger now that she had reason to berate Stephen for the second time that night.
"Evelyn!" Stephen gasped in anticipation of the whole sorry, humiliating story coming out, and his cheeks immediately coloured.
So did Jonathan's, as his brow darkened with a dangerous look.
"Stephen- what have you done!" he shouted, getting up and going to his sister. "I hope you haven't besmirched the honour of my baby sister!" he said rather grandiloquently, putting an arm around her shoulder and pulling her into a protective embrace.
"No, nothing, it was....I didn't mean to!"
"Got a good look at my breasts, did you Stephen?" Evy said in a rare instance of sarcasm from her- she usually maintained it was the lowest form of wit, and thus better left to Jonathan.
"No, I didn't, honestly!" Stephen protested, raising his hands in an open palmed gesture. "Well, just the one..." he inadvertently admitted, getting very hot under the collar beneath her penetrating gaze.
"Right, that's it Stephen- outside!" Jonathan demanded, pointing to the hallway with a murderous expression.
"What? Surely you're not going to-" Evy began.
"I'm going to get in my car and run him over with it!" Jonathan stated, rummaging in his pockets for his keys. Stephen nearly died on the spot.
"Wha...but...you..." he stammered, not sure how things had gone from bad to worse so quickly. Jonathan's face was steadily getting redder and redder, his lips pressed together until they turned white. Finally he couldn't keep it in any more, but burst out laughing.
"Are you always this articulate?" he teased, cackling madly while Stephen once again did his famous goldfish impression.
"Jonathan! This is NOT funny!" Evy chided, pushing him away from her and jamming her hands on her hips.
"Evykins, if Stephen really wanted to look at female flesh, I'm sure he could find some rather more voluptuous than yours!"
"JONATHAN!!"
"I'm sorry Evy, but I have to take his side on this- I'm sure it was an innocent mistake,"
Stephen smiled with relief, rather glad Jonathan was generally inclined to see the funny side of things, rather than the sort to resort to homicidal rage. He wasn't even sure Jonathan knew how to do homicidal rage.
"It really was," he said innocently. Evy glared at him- god she was beautiful when she was angry. Even huddled in all those layers- she was evidently not going to give him the same chance again- he could still tell she had the most slender waist and perfect curves hidden underneath there somewhere.
Jonathan's voice suddenly put an end to Stephen's reverie. "Anyway, back to bed with you- work tomorrow. Wont make a squeak from now on, scouts honour and all that," he promised, kissing Evy on the cheek and ushering her out into the hallway. Stephen could hear her protests and mild threats echoing off the cold mosaic floor, then her feet padding up the carpeted stairs, and finally the muffled clunk of her bedroom door.
Jonathan came back in and went to fetch the bourbon, topping up his glass before going to refill Stephen's.
"Right, finish that up and then outside. I'll get the car."
"Jonathan, you're not going to get me with that one twice," he chuckled, settling himself back into the sofa with a contented sigh.
"I'm bloody well serious!" Jonathan insisted, wiping the smirk of Stephen's face. "It has to look convincing, you need at least a concussion," he said, thinking out loud.
"What in god's name are you blathering on about? Are you drunk?"
"No, but you might want to be. Have another," he said, lifting Stephen's glass to his lips and virtually pouring the contents down throat, then reaching for the bottle to fill it back to the top. Stephen coughed as he tried to put his hand over the mouth of the glass, preventing him from pouring any more into it, but Jonathan had other ideas.
"Look, I'm not going to lie to you- it will hurt. But it's either that or face a Court Martial. Now drink up!"
"Jonathan, you're bloody insane! Do you mean to say you want to run me over with your car to provide a plausible excuse for me not reporting back last night? Pretty convincing excuse all right- being dead!"
"No, I'm not going to run you over!" Jonathan assured, waving his hand as if telling him not to be so ridiculous. Stephen let out a huge sigh and closed his eyes in relief.
"Blimey Jonathan, you had me worried there for a minute!"
"I'm just going to *hit* you with it. You don't need a full body cast to convince them, just an arm will do."
"I can't believe you- you are not going to hit me with that bloody death contraption!"
"Don't worry Stephen, I know what I'm doing- I'm a professional."
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A/N: Whatcha reckon? Should he do it? Should I let Stephen get all banged up? Maybe then Evy could do her little Florence Nightingale act... ho hum, things they are a-stirring.
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Chapter 13
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"Evy? Evy I'm really, really sorry- please, just come out and slap me or something," Stephen pleaded, leaning his head against the door post, speaking into the keyhole. There was no reply and he bit his lip, wincing at the huge mess he had just made of things. Any remote chance he might once have fancied he had with Evelyn Carnahan had just been spectacularly thrown out the window.
Evy didn't say a word as she opened the door and flounced out into the hallway, nose in the air, haughty expression on her beautiful but flustered face. He caught her gently by the arm.
"Look, I'm sorry about the towel, and about the, uh, door, uh thing..." he bumbled inadequately, trying to placate her with a contrite expression in his eyes. "Honestly, I didn't see anything." *Much*, he thought to himself.
"Mr Wilkins, from what I know of your escapades with my brother I would say you are demonstrably incapable of honesty. Kindly remove your hand from my arm."
Ouch, that tone stung worse than the slap he had been expecting. It was patently obvious that there was nothing he could do or say to ingratiate himself with her at this precise moment. She was mad as all getout. Oh well, as long as he couldn't possibly make it any worse... he took a deep breath and plunged in.
"Look at me, " he said, touching her chin to tilt her face towards him. Her eyes shone brightly, showing no sign of softening. "I don't want you to go to sleep angry with me," he said in a soft, velvety voice, barely above a whisper. It was his 'sweet nothings' voice, and it usually worked a charm with the ladies. Usually.
"I shant give YOU another moment's thought, Mr Wilkins!" she said scornfully, pulling out of his grasp. Stephen frowned and sought her gaze with his electric blue eyes, not letting her look away while that angry expression prevailed.
"What's all this 'Mr Wilkins' business, hmmm?" he said in a wounded tone. "I've known you since you were twelve. I was Stephen then, and I'm still Stephen now."
"Well unlike you and my brother, I have grown up since then!" she shot back, still mad.
Didn't he just know it, Stephen mused with a deep sigh. The long unruly locks and the horn-rimmed spectacles were still there, but there were a few other very noticeable differences in Evy since their childhood days. She had grown into a very fine figure of a woman since he had been away, and he could just kick himself that he had used to stick toffees in her hair and tease her about her flat chest. Back then he might actually have been in the running for her, if he had had the sense to be the least bit interested. But then his father had died, leaving a crippled business and a lot of debts, and he had been forced into the army. By the time he bumped into Jonathan again in Cairo, quite by accident many years later, he had already cultivated enough vices to win the disapproval of any kind of respectable girl's father. He knew that while Jonathan was more than happy to have him as a friend again, he would never entertain the possibility of someone like him as a brother-in-law.
"I know you think I'm a bounder and blackguard, but if you just got to know me a little better...you'd see I'm still the same old Stephen."
"That's what worries me. Do you know how long it took to grow my hair back after I had to have it all cut off because of you? Three years! And for most of that time I was nicknamed 'fuzzbuzz'!"
Stephen put a hand over his mouth to keep from sniggering, which would not be the best way to win her favour right now. He had to admit the name was pretty apt- he hair was rather a mass of frizz at times. Right now there was a little wet ringlet of it stuck to her cheek, while the rest fell in wavy cascades over her shoulders. Standing there in her damp silk robe, no makeup, hair loose and uncombed, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
"Evelyn- Evy- can't we just make a new start?" he implored her, taking a step forward as she took one back towards her bedroom.
"I'll think about it," she said in a non-committal tone, before going back into her room and shutting the door on his half formed good night.
******
"Evy, old stick, Johnny boy's home!" Jonathan called as he nudged open the front door and stepped into the hallway, the second half of the sentence trailing off as he realised all was dark and quiet. It wasn't that late, probably not long after midnight- god Evelyn was such an old biddy when it came to getting her beauty sleep! But perhaps it was best she was in bed after all; now he wouldn't have to tell her about the spectacular loss he had just incurred. She wasn't seeing that hundred pounds again, that was for sure.
"I can't believe I just did that!" he said to himself, heading towards the dining room, "And sober as well!" He went to the sideboard and opened the drinks cabinet, looking for the bourbon. "Just the one," he thought, pouring himself a very large one.
"Having a nightcap by yourself, eh Jonathan?" came a voice from the doorway behind him.
"Ah! Just the man I want to see!" Jonathan replied without turning round, getting another glass from the cabinet and pouring another exceedingly large bourbon. His friend was going to need it for what he had in mind. "Well don't lurk in doorways all night, come and join me!"
"Ah, yes that reminds me Johnny, I have to talk to you about something actually..."
"Me too, old chap- I'm afraid we have a slight problem." Jonathan interrupted, handing Stephen the glass. "You'll never guess who I had the misfortune to bump into at Dickie's house."
"That sour faced old git in the kilt?" Stephen joked, taking the glass Jonathan offered and going through into the lounge. He sat down in Evy's favourite spot on the sofa, and nestled into the cushions.
"Him too- but I was talking about the major," Jonathan said darkly, plonking himself in the overstuffed armchair next to the bookcase. "He was rather interested in your whereabouts."
"Shit," Stephen hissed, taking a large swig of bourbon. "Did you tell him anything?"
"I told him I hadn't seen you."
"Oh great! That's all you could think of? Saving your own skin?!" Stephen shouted in a bitterly accusing tone, getting the feeling that he was once again being dumped in trouble and left to find his own way out by his so called friend.
"Well I was slightly pressed at the time! You know denial is always my first impulse- its like a knee jerk reaction!" Jonathan said defensively, trying to mask his guilt about hanging Stephen out to dry. If only they had stopped to think for a minute beforehand, they might have realised Hugh was likely to be at Dickie's. Then they could have come up with some sort of convincing cover story; his Granny died, he was saving babies from a burning orphanage, he was crossing the road and got hit by a...now there was an idea!
"So I guess I'm screwed, is that about the long and the short of it? I was supposed to report in this morning, so now that makes me AWOL-"
"That's not the worst of it," Jonathan said quietly, keeping his voice down in case they should wake Evy, "That police officer..."
"The one you hit?" Stephen reminded him with a stern expression.
"No, the other one- he's dead."
"Oh shit," Stephen said again, draining the glass.
"It wasn't our fault, it was that hot tempered little sore loser Khalid! Well, he got himself into something he couldn't quite handle this time- he's dead too." Stephen looked up in shock.
"You mean...?"
"Yup, beaten to death by that copper I hit. Geez, makes you wonder what would have happened it he'd caught up with US!"
"You mean caught up with you." Stephen corrected him.
"You wouldn't have let some local hardhead beat ten bales out of your old friend Johnny, would you?" Jonathan asked with an injured expression. "That's just not cricket!"
"I might have been tempted to join in actually," Stephen said with mirthless humour. "But at least that's the last you'll hear of that five hundred pounds."
Jonathan was suddenly struck by an unsettling realisation- if Khalid was dead, then that meant the woman who had visited Evy this morning was unlikely to be anything to do with him...so who had put her up to it? More to the point, who had knocked her up?!
"Oh, Evy is going to kill me..." he muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes, all of a sudden feeling completely exhausted.
"Not before she gets through with me," Stephen muttered, looking over at Jonathan with a very sheepish expression.
"Why, what have you done to her that's so terrible?"
"Well...there was this little incident...a sort of...accident..."
"Oh, you didn't break her bust of Nefertiti, did you? That was mother's..." Jonathan said in a pained voice, looking across at the bookcase to check if the statuette was still in tact.
"No, but he got a fairly good view of MY bust!" Evelyn said with the most withering of expressions as she appeared in the doorway, wrapped in a heavy winter dressing gown as well as her flimsy cream robe, over an ankle length nightdress. "And now he has woken me up!" She fumed, remembering her previous anger now that she had reason to berate Stephen for the second time that night.
"Evelyn!" Stephen gasped in anticipation of the whole sorry, humiliating story coming out, and his cheeks immediately coloured.
So did Jonathan's, as his brow darkened with a dangerous look.
"Stephen- what have you done!" he shouted, getting up and going to his sister. "I hope you haven't besmirched the honour of my baby sister!" he said rather grandiloquently, putting an arm around her shoulder and pulling her into a protective embrace.
"No, nothing, it was....I didn't mean to!"
"Got a good look at my breasts, did you Stephen?" Evy said in a rare instance of sarcasm from her- she usually maintained it was the lowest form of wit, and thus better left to Jonathan.
"No, I didn't, honestly!" Stephen protested, raising his hands in an open palmed gesture. "Well, just the one..." he inadvertently admitted, getting very hot under the collar beneath her penetrating gaze.
"Right, that's it Stephen- outside!" Jonathan demanded, pointing to the hallway with a murderous expression.
"What? Surely you're not going to-" Evy began.
"I'm going to get in my car and run him over with it!" Jonathan stated, rummaging in his pockets for his keys. Stephen nearly died on the spot.
"Wha...but...you..." he stammered, not sure how things had gone from bad to worse so quickly. Jonathan's face was steadily getting redder and redder, his lips pressed together until they turned white. Finally he couldn't keep it in any more, but burst out laughing.
"Are you always this articulate?" he teased, cackling madly while Stephen once again did his famous goldfish impression.
"Jonathan! This is NOT funny!" Evy chided, pushing him away from her and jamming her hands on her hips.
"Evykins, if Stephen really wanted to look at female flesh, I'm sure he could find some rather more voluptuous than yours!"
"JONATHAN!!"
"I'm sorry Evy, but I have to take his side on this- I'm sure it was an innocent mistake,"
Stephen smiled with relief, rather glad Jonathan was generally inclined to see the funny side of things, rather than the sort to resort to homicidal rage. He wasn't even sure Jonathan knew how to do homicidal rage.
"It really was," he said innocently. Evy glared at him- god she was beautiful when she was angry. Even huddled in all those layers- she was evidently not going to give him the same chance again- he could still tell she had the most slender waist and perfect curves hidden underneath there somewhere.
Jonathan's voice suddenly put an end to Stephen's reverie. "Anyway, back to bed with you- work tomorrow. Wont make a squeak from now on, scouts honour and all that," he promised, kissing Evy on the cheek and ushering her out into the hallway. Stephen could hear her protests and mild threats echoing off the cold mosaic floor, then her feet padding up the carpeted stairs, and finally the muffled clunk of her bedroom door.
Jonathan came back in and went to fetch the bourbon, topping up his glass before going to refill Stephen's.
"Right, finish that up and then outside. I'll get the car."
"Jonathan, you're not going to get me with that one twice," he chuckled, settling himself back into the sofa with a contented sigh.
"I'm bloody well serious!" Jonathan insisted, wiping the smirk of Stephen's face. "It has to look convincing, you need at least a concussion," he said, thinking out loud.
"What in god's name are you blathering on about? Are you drunk?"
"No, but you might want to be. Have another," he said, lifting Stephen's glass to his lips and virtually pouring the contents down throat, then reaching for the bottle to fill it back to the top. Stephen coughed as he tried to put his hand over the mouth of the glass, preventing him from pouring any more into it, but Jonathan had other ideas.
"Look, I'm not going to lie to you- it will hurt. But it's either that or face a Court Martial. Now drink up!"
"Jonathan, you're bloody insane! Do you mean to say you want to run me over with your car to provide a plausible excuse for me not reporting back last night? Pretty convincing excuse all right- being dead!"
"No, I'm not going to run you over!" Jonathan assured, waving his hand as if telling him not to be so ridiculous. Stephen let out a huge sigh and closed his eyes in relief.
"Blimey Jonathan, you had me worried there for a minute!"
"I'm just going to *hit* you with it. You don't need a full body cast to convince them, just an arm will do."
"I can't believe you- you are not going to hit me with that bloody death contraption!"
"Don't worry Stephen, I know what I'm doing- I'm a professional."
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A/N: Whatcha reckon? Should he do it? Should I let Stephen get all banged up? Maybe then Evy could do her little Florence Nightingale act... ho hum, things they are a-stirring.