III:

Jean waited until she heard the tell-tale sounds of Dr. Blake heading out for the night before she retreated from her bedroom in her robe and bare feet. She knew he was really just going out into the garden to drink himself stupid, but it still afforded her a modicum of decent quiet to sneak into Anna's room under the cover of darkness. She hurried down the corridor and tapped on the door twice before opening it and ducking inside, shutting the door quickly behind her.

Anna looked up from her book with an amused smile. "Hello," she said.

"He's gone out for a bit."

"So you thought you'd…"

"Come to visit," Jean murmured.

Anna chuckled. "It used to be the other way around."

"Yes, you were the brave one," Jean admitted.

"That robe is hideous."

"Oh, shut up," Jean laughed, coming over and gesturing at the bed. "Budge up, will you?"

"Or what?" Anna asked, her smile growing into a full-fledged grin.

"Or I'm going to sit on you," Jean threatened, hiking up the hem of her robe and readying to make good on her threat. Anna scooted over a little bit and made just enough room for Jean to snuggle her bum into the curve of Anna's waist and hips, then she curled up around her. "What are you doing?" Jean asked.

"Getting comfortable," Anna replied. "Seems like one of us better."

Jean sighed. "I am comfortable," she said, swinging her leg off the edge of the bed idly.

"Sweetheart, your back is so straight it should teach comportment lessons," Anna teased. "Relax," she insisted softly, running her fingertips up and down Jean's back, making her shiver. "I won't bite."

"How is May?" Jean asked.

"My girl, May?" When Jean nodded, Anna smiled softly and murmured, "She's good – settled down in Johannesburg with Willem and they just had a little boy a few weeks ago. Can you believe I'm a granny four times over now? Three girls and the boy. What about your boys?"

Jean leaned back against her and sighed. "Well… Jack is Jack."

Anna groaned. "That's never going to change, is it?"

"No, I'm afraid not. But… young Christopher got married a few months back to a very nice young woman named Ruby and I'm very proud of them for at least trying to make a go of things on an Army salary," Jean said cheerfully. "It reminds me of when my Christopher and I started out on the farm with nothing but a few pounds in our pocket and a baby on the way."

"The good old days," Anna murmured. She pulled Jean down and held her close, and Jean didn't protest – it felt good, comfortable, very much at home to be back in Anna's embrace. "I missed you, too. Every bloody day."

"I never stopped loving you." The words were very small, infinitesimally so, in the scheme of things, but they were a truth that needed to be acknowledged. "I love you right now."

"I know." Anna sighed and kissed Jean's shoulder through her robe. "Were you serious earlier about coming with me?"

"I am thinking about it," Jean said.

"What will it take to convince you?"

"I just need time to make up my mind," Jean murmured, snuggling deeper into Anna's arms and sighing with contentment. "I'm sorry. I love you; I do. I just… I can't choose on a whim."

"I know," Anna said softly. After a few moments of quiet, she said, "What did he do that made you even consider running away with me?"

Jean barked a laugh. "He came home from the Colonist's starkers the night before last, singing at the top of his lungs as he walked up the drive."

"Please tell me you're kidding."

"I am not." Jean bit her lip. "I paid the bill yesterday for four bottles of top shelf whiskey. I'm fairly certain he did it to himself."

"How can anyone drink that much whiskey and not keel over dead?" Anna asked, clearly horrified.

"I don't know," Jean said. "I mean, you have four sugars in every cup of tea you drink – you tell me." She frowned; Lucien wasn't a bad man, at his heart. He was merely plagued by demons, and those demons led him to drink and misbehave in a manner that was really quite shameful. Though, really, who was she to be making excuses for him? She was only the housekeeper… and the woman he had pleasured so thoroughly as to shake her to her very foundations.

Oh, hell, why had he gone and made everything so complicated?

Why had she allowed him to make everything so bloody complicated?

It should be simple: walk away, start anew in Queensland. But no. Now her feelings were muddled and a sudden pang of sense made her wonder if running back to the sensible familiarity of Anna's arms was only another brand of the cowardice she so abhorred in others.

"What was he singing?"

Jean paused, then rolled over in Anna's arms to face her. "Well… he wasn't so much singing as he was shouting dirty limericks in the style of singing," Jean admitted. "And then when I came out to collect him, he… made one up on the spot about my – oh, it's too humiliating."

Anna giggled and said, "I recall a night we spent reading each other off-color poetry from old Dr. Blake's collection…"

Jean flushed bright red, then stifled a horrified laugh. "Yes, but… that was in the privacy of my bedroom," she whispered, "and we weren't shouting them for all and sundry to hear at ten at night!"

"Well, color me impressed that he held four bottles of whiskey and managed to make up a dirty limerick about your pert bum – your lovely breasts – your milky thighs – ah… no, your warm, luscious…"

"Stop!" Jean exclaimed, her voice carrying.

Anna was still laughing, but she leaned in to kiss away Jean's hurt expression. "He doesn't get to have those bits, does he?" she teased gently.

Jean hesitated for a moment too long; then she got up and fled into the night without another word.

TBC...