Author's note

Last Saturday, after a long silence, I posted a new chapter, and to lighten the burden of the first blue monday of a new decade we can start a new short story together today, shining a light on a character we have known for quite a while from the side lines. We will see the world from his eyes for a few weeks, as his life takes a surprising but not unwelcome turn.

Chapter 175

Watching Fowler's broad figure making its way back to the house, Hugo wondered whether he had made a grave mistake telling the London guard about his past. But he'd felt the need to talk to someone for some time now, and Fowler was the first man he'd met who commanded his respect whilst being in a dependent position, even in London when they barely knew each other. Once at Pemberley Fowler had indeed proven himself by riding and shooting like a Hussar, seemingly without a twinge of fear. And despite his competence he wasn't the bragging or blustering kind, Hugo remembered him being very discreet during the hours they spent together waiting outside the church at Miss Darcy's wedding. Of course Simon was very tight-lipped as well, but somehow Hugo couldn't respect the young valet as he probably deserved. He was aware it was Simon's lack of athleticism keeping him from seeking his friendship, and still he wasn't really ashamed of his own habit to respect physical prowess over an admirable character.

But Fowler had both, and Hugo found himself considering their conversation. Should he do as Fowler suggested, find himself a nice woman to wed in order to have a constant companion for life? He had regular contact with three local women, one of whom would likely have him, but would he make a wife happy? Would one single woman make him happy? Should he ask someone else for advice besides Fowler, a woman preferably, one who had been married herself?

Peter's missus came to mind, she was as admirable as any man he knew as well as independent from the Pemberley household. She was happily married herself, knew the local widows and undoubtedly had a bit of a temper, with her red hair that was unavoidable. But she was married to one of Hugo's underlings, he couldn't expect her to keep quiet to her own husband about his superior's weaknesses. No, consulting Peter´s missus was out of the question. Too bad, but he'd find someone else.

Mrs Darcy was very sensible but too young, too sarcastic and mostly too far above him. Mrs Reynolds too close and too inexperienced with men, she had been married but so shortly and so long ago she was almost a spinster.

Well, then, that left Mrs Eliot. With her keen mind she understood everything she noticed going on in the back of the house and in her son's parish. She was motherly and had been married for a long time, to a navy man. And she didn't gossip.

Choice made, Hugo waited for the next time Mrs Eliot was expected at Pemberley, and when Mrs Reynolds left the common room to settle some supplier's bill in the little room where she kept the cashbox, he took his chance.

'Would you be so kind as to lend me your ear on a personal matter, Mrs Eliot?'

That she was surprised to receive a petition from the master of the stables was not difficult to see, but she was certainly not put out by his request and confirmed his observation with her reply.

'Of course I will, Mr Hugo, will noon suit you? Shall I come to your private room, or do you want me to arrange use of the office with Maria?'

Mrs Reynolds would just get curious, better avoid her knowing if at all possible.

'I suppose my own room will do fine, Mrs Eliot. Thank you for your help.'

'It will be my pleasure and I will see you at noon.'

And indeed at noon they sat together in front of Hugo's tiny hearth, sipping hot tea, Mrs Eliot showing no sign of curiosity but plenty of kind interest.

Hugo decided just to be honest with the lady, then ask his question.

'I'm lonely, Mrs Eliot, and I'm starting to think I might do well to get married, even if I'm probably a bit too old.'

Again, she showed nothing but kindness, not even surprise.

'I very much approve of your idea, but I'm quite convinced you did not ask to see me to prepare a list of eager local widows and spinsters, did you?'

'Indeed not, Mrs Eliot, there are a few ladies of my acquaintance whom I might ask first, and I guess not without success. What worries me is whether I am at all suited for marriage, I have this temper, you see, and I have no patience with babies, I do not want children of my own. I don't mind older ones, once they talk sense they're actually quite good company. But is it fair to ask any woman to put up with me?'

Mrs Eliot nodded and replied, 'Well, you do have a certain reputation, but not for having a temper; despite what you may expect your staff think you firm but fair. I'd say it's your roving eye the ladies in question might worry about, for what woman would want to share her lawful husband with several other lovers? I suppose any local woman wanting to marry you would know about that, wouldn't she? You have not kept your preferences a secret after all.'

It hadn't even occurred to Hugo that his reputation as a womaniser might hinder his attempts to settle, and he didn't think any of his prospects would be bothered by it. They hadn't complained or commented so far, and he had always been honest with them, they knew there were others. But that was all going to change.

'I believe in the sanctity of marriage, Mrs Eliot. Once I have a wife I am going to be faithful to her, my roving eye will be a thing of the past. I will be home for dinner every night and stay in until it is time to go to work the next morning. Unless I'm needed here, of course, but I'm certain the ladies I'm thinking of will understand duty. I suppose one of them will have me, as long as you think having a temper doesn't make a man a bad husband.'

'Married people are all fallible, too, Mr Hugo, no-one is perfect. I've had words with my late husband and I loved him dearly and rarely had him around, he was always away on duty. And still we fought sometimes.'

It was hard to imagine the kind elderly lady fighting with anyone but he knew she had a strong will, or she couldn't have been housekeeper in a household at least as large as Pemberley's for so many years.

'If you don't mind my asking, Mr Hugo, have you thought which one of your prospects you want to ask first? I mean, do you love either of them? How well do you know these ladies?'

Did he? Know them or love them? There were three he considered asking, one he knew would almost certainly refuse him since she was fifteen years his junior and a highly desirable local beauty. Why would she wed an older man, a Frenchman at that, when she could have any man she liked? He had a good salary and he supposed a high status as Pemberley stable master but he had often wondered why Elaine even agreed to see him. At first he'd thought she wanted to improve herself by using him to gain a position in the Darcy household, but she'd never asked. They would just make love passionately and secretly in her parents' barn, and then Hugo would return to Pemberley under cover of darkness. As far as he knew no-one in her family had ever found out their unmarried daughter and sister was having an affair with an older man.

'I like them, but I don't love them. And I know some very intimate things about them but we generally never talk much, nor have we spent much time together doing anything besides, well, you know what. Do you think I should? Get to know them before deciding?'

'Of course you should, once you get married you'll be in each other's company all the time, you need to find out whether you can live with each other's habits. You'll be sharing your money, and you need to agree on how to raise any children she may have, she will want to know whether you drink spirits or go out often, and whether you expect to rule your household or be equals. You will have to adapt to her, you know, as much as she will have to adapt to you. So, yes, do get to know these ladies of your acquaintance quite well before you pop the question.'

Well, that was excellent advice, and something Hugo hadn't thought about so far, but of course it made sense now.

'Thank you very much, Mrs Eliot, I will make the effort the coming weeks, and then decide whom to ask first.'

'Excellent. And if you want to talk about anything, just let me know, I'll listen and if you want advice I'll try to give it.'

After this useful conversation Hugo decided he'd start with Elaine, he didn't expect her to be interested, which meant he could practise a little before he dared broach the subject with Rose, who he thought would be his most likely prospect. Rose was about his own age, maybe even slightly his senior, and possessed of an admirably calm nature. She had been a widow for some five years now, mother of three, of whom the eldest son was ready to take over the family farm. A second son and younger girl were as diligent and as practical as their mother and elder brother, and Hugo could easily envision himself as part of their family. He visited Rose openly, he had known Rose's husband because he was Mr Darcy's tenant and sometimes came to the Pemberley kitchen to deliver produce from their farm. After his unexpected death, Hugo had helped the new widow with some practical matters to enable the family to keep the farm, and one thing had led to another.

Now, Hugo visited Rose every other week and stayed for dinner. When the children were off to bed, Rose would take him to her bedroom, where they enjoyed each other's company for an hour or so. Nothing more, nothing less, they would make love and cuddle a bit afterwards, and then Hugo would leave. He'd never stayed a full night, and Rose knew he was seeing other women, though he supposed she didn't know who exactly. Rose rented one of Mr Darcy´s cottages in Clifton, the village closest to Pemberley, where Elaine also lived with her parents and siblings. Hugo generally went to Rose´s cottage on foot though not to keep his visits a secret, which he did with Elaine since she wanted it that way. It made visiting her much more exciting, but somehow he didn't think exciting would be a good basis for marriage, not in his case.

And then there was Caitlin. She lived beyond Mr Darcy's grounds on the opposite side of the manor house, a bit far from Pemberley to go on foot, but no-one would ever see him come and go since she had no neighbours. To be honest, she didn't really have a house either, a sod-covered hut dug out in a river bank wasn't a house. And yet Caitlin kept that little hut with its dirt floor and its greased-paper window as clean as was humanly possible, and she and her brave little boy managed to just scrape by on her meagre earnings as midwife and herb woman for those who couldn't afford a doctor. If Mr Darcy knew people were living on the edge of starvation so close to his well-kept estate, he'd undoubtedly try to do something about it, or maybe not: even the most kind-hearted landowner couldn't save all the poor families outside his own estate.

Despite her poverty and being an outsider in her community, Caitlin was very attractive to Hugo because she was the bravest person he had ever met. She had fled from Ireland, misused and pregnant by her master's son, desperate to live in freedom and willing to brave ridicule and outright hostility from the people around her. When the villagers needed help they knew where to find her, but as far as Hugo knew he was the only person to ever spend any time with her and her boy. Maybe he should have asked Mr Darcy to intervene on her behalf, she deserved so much better, but she was proud and would probably not thank Hugo for interfering in her life.

Hugo could picture himself marrying her and buying a cottage for the three of them to live in together, even with her pride and his temper, but imagine what the local people would say about a Frenchman marrying an Irish woman. Associating with Rose, a respected local widow, would go down much easier, although Hugo's excellent position as Pemberley stable master might not altogether offset the fact that he was a foreigner. But like Mrs Eliot said, it was probably best to get to know all three women first, living in the same house was very different from visiting a few times each month for a little chat and some lovemaking.

'Ah, just the man I needed!'

Startled out of his thoughts by Mr Darcy's calm voice, Hugo realised he had made his way back to the stables without even noticing. Mr Darcy was by himself and dressed for company, not for riding, it seemed he had come to the stables on purpose to speak with Hugo. Had something gone wrong?

'You seem a bit out of sorts, Hugo, I hope all is well?'

That depended on what he had come for, but of course there was no way for Hugo to put that into words.

'Yes, sir, everything is fine. I was just a bit lost in thought, your voice startled me. You said you needed me, sir?'

Mr Darcy looked at him curiously, but then he merely came to the point which was a relief to Hugo.

'I was wondering whether you'd already made some progress in finding a pair of ponies for that phaeton I´ve commissioned. Or do you think a single horse would be better? You seem in doubt.'

When had Mr Darcy become adept at spotting people's feelings? And why would he care what his stable master thought of his wishes? Before Hugo could ponder his own questions, Mr Darcy had some more for him to answer.

'Do you think it would be too difficult for Mrs Darcy to learn to drive a pair? It is different from riding but she learns as fast as I did, maybe even faster.'

'I'm sorry, sir, I have no news. Apparently it's almost as difficult to find a matched pair of ponies as thoroughbreds. Or maybe I have the wrong contacts, you usually want a certain type of horse and my contacts may not cater to smaller or less temperamental animals. I shall ask the visiting drivers to give me some new traders to write to. A single horse would be easier to find, but not nearly as much fun for Mrs Darcy, I think. She loves a challenge, and driving a single horse hardly counts as one. And what would that lovely little phaeton you ordered look like with a single large horse in front of it?'

Fortunately, Mr Darcy seemed to agree, for he shook his head slightly. Hugo continued.

'If you were to ask me, sir, it is worthwhile to spend a little more time searching for ponies, it's been weeks, not even that, and in spring there is always a higher demand for horses. I will find what you want, but it may take a little longer than last time.'

'You have never let me down, Hugo, and there is plenty of time left. We'll wait a little longer then to find the perfect pair. You know I've never seen you like this, I don't want to pry but if there is anything you need you will let me know, won't you? You've worked miracles for me, and after London you may feel a little...well, let's say, deprived. Of course I cannot help there but you have earned some privileges here as well, some time off, a right to hunt or fish. Think about it.'

Such kindness, and all because Hugo was lost in thought? He didn't dare yet, but maybe he would find the courage some time in the future to ask Mr Darcy to help Caitlin, and then he'd need as much or more courage to admit to her what he'd done. But if he got married where would that leave her? Hugo didn't dare do as much for her as he would have liked, he'd often buy some clothes or shoes for her or her boy, a few luxuries where appropriate and some staples when she needed them, all left where she would find them after his departure to not give her the feeling he was paying her for favours, or handing out alms.

Another one of those curious looks pulled Hugo back to the real world, again! And where his employer could see him!

'I will, sir, thank you, sir,' Hugo stammered, feeling caught in what seemed some kind of weakness. What was happening, why was he acting like a cadet or worse, one of Mr Darcy's tenants?

Fortunately, Mr Darcy didn't say anything but merely nodded and turned towards the house, leaving Hugo slightly confused over the influence a woman might gain over a man's rational thoughts if he let her.

Still, he had a formidable will and forced his mind back to the matters at hand. No time like the present to do as he'd promised Mr Darcy and ask their visitors' drivers and stable hands whether they knew traders dealing in a smaller, more docile kind of horse. He didn't fear being cheated with poor quality horses, no-one had ever managed to sell him an inferior or flawed equine, not even a mule or a donkey, and he could travel quite a ways to find the perfect pair, as they had done with the thoroughbreds. Mrs Darcy appreciated beautiful horses, he would find her a pair of dappled greys, or even a spotted pair. Or that gold colour of Prince George's stallion, that had been some kind of horse to look at, though mostly show and little substance.

Expecting Mr Bingley's driver to be his best chance of finding a new address to buy horses, Hugo made his way to the stables where the former had insisted on installing his master's new team. He had declined the offer of a paddock because the team wasn't used to sharing their space, and Hugo understood his fear of his master's horses getting damaged under his sole responsibility. Hugo wouldn't appreciate his staff making such decisions without consulting either Mr Darcy or himself, and Mr Bingley seemed much less involved with his team or his stable staff than Mr Darcy was.

Before even entering the large barn he found the driver and his stable boy sitting in the opening of the large stable doors, enjoying the sunshine and their surroundings whilst chatting away together. Time to introduce himself personally, so far Hugo hadn't had much time to talk to the two in person, though he had inspected the team minutely with Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy present, as well as the driver, but the latter had seemed very shy of Mr Darcy and had barely spoken two whole sentences the entire time. Hugo could understand, the driver was still young and probably not used to converse with gentlemen directly, his superior would be expected to do that for him.

'Good afternoon!' Hugo greeted the two of them.

'Mr Hugo, such a pleasure to see you! I don't think you have been introduced to Allister, my stable boy? And my name is Jones, I'm Mr Bingley's stable master, when he told me he was going to ask your opinion of the horses we chose for his new team I begged him to take me with him as his driver. You have such a reputation I wouldn't have missed that for the world!'

They all shook hands and Hugo was momentarily stunned: this shy young man was Mr Bingley's stable master? He certainly had an eye for horses, but he had hardly commented when Hugo and Mr Darcy had looked all over them and fortunately found all four totally sound.

'If I had known you were his stable master as well as his driver I would have sought you out earlier, Mr Jones. You made an excellent choice buying those four bays for Mr Bingley. Would you mind sharing where you got them? I'm looking for a pair of ponies but I seem to have no luck finding any: it's all hunters and tall carriage horses on offer it seems.'

Almost incredulously, the young man replied, 'You would ask me for advice? Of course I'll tell you where my master bought his team, but I'm afraid it's not a place where you'll find ponies, unless you're looking for a boy's first hunter pony. Mr Bingley and I went to a large trader in London to find these, he wanted the best and didn't plan to spare expenses. He asked me which team was the best, and whether it was good enough for him and Mrs Bingley, and since I thought this was, he bought it.'

'And he did well to listen to you, I'm sure I couldn't have found a better team for him if I had spent a year searching. I can see you have something to say to me but hesitate to do so. Why? You may be young, but you clearly know your horses.'

'Thank you, sir, for your praise, I mean. Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy have a very high opinion of your knowledge, and so do I. But you are clearly used to highly bred gentleman's horses, and your contacts undoubtedly have the best of those.'

The young man was onto something there, Hugo knew his contacts didn't do ponies, but did Jones know who did sell them? He nodded encouragement to keep the conversation going, the soldier in Hugo was drawn to men with brawn, like Fowler, but Bob had taught him shy men could be excellent horsemen as well.

'What I mean to say is... I was raised in the country, sir, my father runs a livery-stables, I learned to work with horses from a young age, and I think you are looking in the wrong place. I'm from the south, where we have some very attractive local breeds, and I guess it will be much the same here. Local farmers don't sell their surplus to traders, those wouldn't be interested in anything smaller than a lady's horse. And if they were, their commission would be more than the value of the animal. Local farmers sell to other farmers and coal miners and craftspeople needing a sturdy work pony. If I were you, I'd scour the local markets, you will find a lot of inferior ponies, but also a few superb quality creatures. It'll take a while to find two, especially if you want a matching pair, but it'll be faster than writing and then going to London.'

Of course! Why hadn't he thought of that himself? Every town within miles of Pemberley had its own market, and there were several large ones just to sell livestock, one or more of which would be planned in spring. Even if he didn't find the right ponies there, or just one, he could make new contacts to help him deliver a team for Mrs Darcy's new phaeton by the end of summer.

'Jones, you've given me the solution to my problem. Thank you! You know you are both very welcome to go to the kitchen to get yourselves coffee and something to eat whenever you are hungry between meals. I'm going to ask my staff and the steward which town has a market day soon. There is plenty of time but I want these ponies to be really special.'

And with great familiarity they parted, it would be good to talk of horses with someone with the same responsibilities as himself. It was always nice to have people over, the staff they brought with them made for interesting conversation in the back of the house. But first, tonight, Hugo would have an interesting conversation with Elaine. Maybe she would let him stay the night, see what it was like to sleep in someone's arms instead of all by himself.

It was dark when he left the servants' quarters quite openly, crossing the bridge on foot, a state in which people rarely saw him. When they did, he was likely on his way to a liaison, though, hopefully, most of Pemberley's inhabitants didn't realise that. Well, it wouldn't be long now until he might be walking this way home every day, though he tried not to count on it too much. Even if Mrs Eliot thought he was marriage material, the women he had his eye on might disagree.

After a pleasant ten-minute walk he reached Clifton, where both Elaine and Rose lived. Taking a small detour to avoid being seen by Rose's family members or neighbours, he circled around the village until a relatively large farmhouse separated itself from the shadows of the trees around it. Though he had never entered the yard by daylight, Hugo knew it was large and immaculately kept by Elaine's father and brothers, and he supposed Elaine and her mother and sisters kept up the kitchen garden. It was large as well, because there were a lot of people to feed and they worked hard. Hugo had no idea what Elaine did all day, he had never asked and she had never offered. Tonight, he would have to make a start on that, though he still didn't think Elaine was the one he'd eventually marry, mainly because she wouldn't want him.

Making his way towards the barn with a wide berth, the dark and Elaine's insistence that her father and brother would do Hugo harm if they caught him, triggered his old army instincts, as usual. Walking as quietly as only a soldier or a hunter could, he kept to the shadows and where possible followed the bushes planted around the yard to keep it out of the worst winds. Despite his age and current lack of training, he was pleased to avoid any sudden noises, and as pleased to see a light shining through a crack between two boards of the barn right in front of him. Did her parents really not miss her when she was gone from the house and there was light in the barn? Hugo really doubted it, but he had decided to play the game with her, it was kind of exciting. Nonetheless he had looked for and found several alternative exits, just in case Elaine wasn't exaggerating after all and they got caught.

But not today, not yet. For now, he rapped on the door of the barn in a certain pattern, and she opened it and fell into his arms as soon as he was inside.

'Jean, you're right on time! I've missed you!'

And it sounded as if she meant it, though she was really way too pretty and too young to have any higher feeling for him. For now, it didn't matter, since she took his hand and led him to the hayloft, where they had a little nest, snug and warm, with plenty of blankets to keep the hay from pricking their bare skin.

Hugo always felt a little overcome when he was with Elaine, she was so passionate, almost dominant, and he liked to let her take the lead and tell him what to do. Having to deal out orders all day made allowing someone else to take the responsibility a welcome change.

'Oh, you are looking delectable today, and a bit smug. You must have won a real triumph over something or someone, I can just see it in your eyes and stance. We'll have such a great time!'

That was Elaine, she just like that penetrated his very soul, then let it go. She didn't want to know what triumph had him elated, she merely spotted it then moved onto business. And that she did really well...

She always wanted to undress him first, top to bottom, stroking and kissing him passionately before and after each piece of clothing. First she ran her hands through his hair, a little matter of pride to him since he still had plenty of it to fondle and there wasn't as yet any grey in it either. Then she held him and kissed him deeply, rubbing herself against him all this time. It was incredibly tantalising, and by the time she was ready to remove his coat and start unbuttoning his shirt he felt like the heated twenty-something lad he could imagine being since that was the age of the face he saw opposite him.

Hugo never said much on these nights, he wasn't much of a talker usually. Sometimes a talkative mood struck him, but once that had passed he generally managed weeks with just daily interactions. But today he had a mission, to get to know Elaine, and thus he forced himself to ask some questions, even though it was hard to talk with a fire raging within.

'You really don't mind that I'm much older than you, do you?'

She looked at him with surprise, but answered readily enough.

'Why should I? Young men are boring, they're convinced they're God's gift to women but they're hardly any good as lovers at all. They think only of their own pleasure and merely huff and puff and sweat a lot. They never ask what I want, or care whether I enjoy what they're doing. And then they fall asleep. You never fall asleep on me. And you know how to please a woman.'

She had just loosened his shirt and pulled it over his head, then dropped it in a corner, as she always did. Then she stroked and kneaded his chest muscles, buried her face in his ample chest hair, and breathed on then kissed his throat until a shiver ran down his spine.

'Besides, you're as firm and as trim as a much younger man. Just feel this, hard as rock.'

That was his stomach she was probing and indeed, Hugo had a very spare body despite not having to do any heavy labour. It was most likely his French heritage, the English men he knew were much more prone to get fat with age. Of course they did eat quite a lot and liked to drink as much ale as they were allowed. Hugo didn't skimp on food, but he didn't eat to excess either, especially since English food was more greasy and creamy than he really liked. He did like good wine, but in this country every single bottle had to be imported, which was why he only allowed himself the expensive treat on special days.

'Thank you. So you don't like the local boys much?'

Her hand was on his trousers now, and he had just decided not to ask any more questions until afterwards, when she let him know she'd noticed.

'You're awfully talkative tonight, Jean. Well, actually you are asking a lot of questions, you're not telling me much. Don't you want me?'

Oh he wanted her, she was driving him mad with her hand in his trousers, should he tell her he was sorry to disturb her? If only she'd continue.

'Never mind, Jean, I can see you have something on your mind. But it will keep. You know, they say you are a taskmaster but I have seen nothing of it. You're as meek as a lamb to me. Maybe that is why I like you, the master of the Pemberley horses eating out of my hand.'

More like the Pemberley stable cat being stroked the right way. Elaine might be young but in the ways of loving she was a mistress already. But he had to say something now, he'd made her talk and now he had to return the favour, fair was fair. A compliment would do, but whoever had told her about him should know it.

'I am a taskmaster to them and you indeed have me eating out of your hand, Elaine. The difference is, that you have a clue what you are doing and they don't. You are beautiful and you know how to deal with a Frenchman.'

'I certainly do. You are so different, Jean, when you are with me it's as if your world turns around me and me alone. It's as if you know what I want before I know I want it. And yet I know you sleep with other women. Are all Frenchmen like you?'

'I wouldn't know, my dear, I've never made love to one myself. But I think men who really like making love are like me, how else would women keep wanting them? If they only take and not give?'

By now, she had loosened his trousers and dropped them, and he had started on her dress and she let him, this time. Something had changed between them, and Hugo was a bit sorry that it had. When Elaine mentioned the reputation he outside this barn, she had reminded him of himself, he had unthinkingly taken back control of the situation. Maybe his relaxed mood could still be saved if he shut up and let her do her thing.

She kissed him again and fondled his manhood, like always, and he gave himself up to her passion, leaving the talking for later.

Of course he didn't let her have her way with him altogether. When she had undressed him and brought him to a raging fever, he undressed her and stroked her and kissed her until she was like a lamb as well. Then they lay down on the blankets in the hay and teased each other with hands and tongues until he was close to a climax. He then spent some time on her alone, something the local boys apparently hadn't discovered and never would without Elaine's guidance. When he had brought her to a raging high he was generally urged to jump her and take her, until they were both out of their minds with lust. But this time she did not tell him to do her, this time she calmly asked him to let her on top this once.

Of course she was welcome to, she had plenty of energy and it was very pleasant, but something seemed wrong. Instead of finishing first, Hugo decided to ask her right away, they could always start all over later. No words were needed, when he looked at her in a certain way she fell on his chest and wrapped him in her arms. He knew she was going to talk, so he held her in return and waited for her to speak. When she sat back up, she was not crying but close to tears.

'You're going to leave me, aren't you? Is this our goodbye?'

What was she on about? He wanted to get to know her better, not leave her!

'I know you, Jean, you've never asked me anything, we never talked, we never needed to. Something changed.'

Her distress and her resulting expression made him more frank than he wished to be.

'I'm not leaving you, I'm thinking of getting married. I thought we might get to know each other better.'

'You want to marry me?'

'If we like each other, why not? I have a good position, I have savings, we could have a good life.'

'And you would stay true to me?'

'Of course, I'm not going to break my vows. If I get married I am going to be true to my wife.'

She was longer sad, or was she?

'I cannot marry you, Jean, though you're the best man I've ever known.'

'Why not, Elaine? Am I too old, or don't you want to be with a Frenchman?'

'I don't want to be married at all, Jean. I like you the way you are now, but if we were to get married you'd change. And I'd change. I don't want to be tied to one man, like you weren't tied to one woman for your best years. Maybe when I'm your age I want to marry but not now. I still need to teach those local boys how to please a woman, if only for their future wives.

And that means you are leaving me, for I suppose you'll marry some other woman. I'm not going to hate her, but I'm going to envy her a little bit. I wish everything could have stayed as it was, but I do understand...'

'I'm lonely, Elaine. I'm nearly forty and I'm alone most nights. I thought I'd stay single forever but somehow I feel like there should be more than just making love and sneaking out again.'

'I know, I understand. I'm just sorry we have to end this way. But I'm not going to let our last time together be spoiled with tears, you hear me! Let's forget all this and pretend everything is as it used to be.'

And they managed to do just that, until they were both sweaty and sated. But then they lay down in each other's arms and talked, Hugo sharing some of his story but not his past in the French army, Elaine entrusting him with her hopes of a future away from the countryside. He understood perfectly, some people were just not meant to live a small life and Elaine was one of those.

'Will you stay until morning? You'll have to leave when the cock crows, but that is quite a few hours yet.'

He did want to stay, and they snuggled together, proving to Hugo that the intimacy he wanted so badly was truly worth having, even if it wouldn't be with this beautiful young woman.

When the cock crowed, they both got dressed, and Elaine walked with him to the edge of the village. There, they kissed. They would still see each other in church, but from now on they would be strangers, Elaine sharing her love with local men, and Hugo seeking a woman who would be tied to him, and to whom he would be faithful forever.