I looked into a storyline issue out of concern that it may not be believable, but I think that I was correct in my thinking. I won't put a spoiler in about the storyline that gets hinted at. If anyone has questions or objects, then review!
Collins is introduced. I'm not sure why I've never seen this incarnation of him but it seemed perfect to me.
We get cameos from Maya and Maeve. Maeve, like The Tailor, has a real life counterpart in my alma mater and I love that person.
************Anyone who can guess the New Mexico school and town that Longbourn and Dona Maria are named for will get a shout out.
Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.
Again, if anyone is interested in helping beta, PM me.
Final tweaking is my own.
Chapter 14: She is an angel
Jane was finally ready to bare herself. Armed with little more than a swingy, flattering 40's coat dress, and her inner resolve, Jane arrived at Netherfield. Earlier, Jane hinted her intentions to an eager Charles. Both found time in the middle of their packed schedules for a late evening rendezvous after the usual long, mid- production hours. A Friday date meant no school for Jane and no meetings for Charles the next day- just in case.
He readied his studio for every eventuality. Charles fastidiously removed his previous sketches of her likeness from memory. The charcoal and watercolor sketches, as well as candid phone shots were safely stowed. Charles's easel, palette, paints, drawing materials and photography equipment were ready to capture whatever of Jane's image he was fortunate enough to behold this night (he hoped).
He set out white wine and bite size hors d'oeuvres on the coffee table. Lighting was set a little low with accents of flickering pedestal candles here and there. A fragrant fire flickered in the fireplace. Throws and cushions were artfully placed on the divan, window seat and other seating areas.
Jane declared everything lovely. As the two dined on the patio, they watched the stars. There was something about watching the stars that made it easier for Jane to confide her secret. While he knew of the accident, he had yet to know there was more than just physical damage. Jane shared the bitterest and barest details of her near fatal car crash and the arduous healing journey that Lizzy and Char undertook with her, along with a great deal of help from the Gardiners in the latter months.
With the grace that only a Charles Bingley could muster, he endeavored to further engender Jane's trust with the details of what her mother was talking about. Finally, in a pique of long suppressed frustration over her most secret injury, Jane shucked her coat and unceremoniously stuck her injured leg out for Charles to inspect. He bade Jane to sit and allow him to thoroughly look it over in detail, then entreated her for indulgence to sketch her.
"Are you going to sell it or show it?" She asked.
"Only if you wanted me to. Or I could give it to you when I'm done."Charles's face appeared relaxed but his palms were sweating.
"I'd like that. Well, why not? Go on, then." Jane flickered a smile.
"But, there are things to sign, things we need to go over, contracts." Charles's voice was shaky.
"We don't have to do that, I trust you. We can talk about this later, so long as you agree wait to show anyone until we have some written agreement."Jane replied.
"Of course."Charles allowed. Using newsprint and charcoal, Charles sketched out some rudimentary studies of her leg, then zooming out to her form, capturing other angles and details he found intriguing. Charles kept her in suspense, not showing her anything. He drew, they talked. Finally after about an hour and a half, Charles declared himself finished for the evening and handed the pad over for Jane to see.
Her eyes were large as she drank in the pages. "Do I really look like that to you?"
"Jane, you really look like that." He led Jane to a well lit, full, 3 way mirror and urged her to assume a variety of positions and would then hold up his work in comparison. With such evidence, Jane could no longer argue.
Charles continued: "We are art for our unique quirks and scars, not despite them or excepting them." In such an attitude, Jane had the courage to examine that one part of herself that she'd not wanted to look at so closely ever since…the accident- there, she said it. There. She saw it. The hollow. The scars. The imperfection of her legs. She stood and regarded herself. Charles sat patiently watching. "May I touch it?"
"May you do what? But why?" She looked at him as if she thought he was mad.
"It would mean that I have touched the most vulnerable part of you. What man has touched you there since the doctors declared their work done? I want to be the first man – the first lover to do it. I want to be the only one to do it. I want to feel every bit of your beauty, especially the scars."
She trembled as Charles slowly extended his arm to touch the hollow place where part of her leg had once been. She gasped at the sensation; It felt as if he was touching through her, there. Phantom skin, phantom tendon, muscle, even phantom bone gave way to his electric touch.
He reached up to her face, caressing each plane and detail, whispering that she was perfect in body and character. He was honest too, frankly, he told her, his artist's eye could see the difference in her 'old' and 'new' noses. But the surgeon had done a fine job reconstructing her original features if now they were a little more aquiline.
He knew of many a socialite who would kill for 'either' nose and had spent small fortunes on the effort. He even revealed one of his sister's secrets- she had done the very thing. Jane reacted to his story by laughing until tears came down her cheeks and she cried. First she grasped her stomach with the cramps as she laughed, then she grasped Charles as they both laughed at Caroline's expense.
"Damn that felt good," she whispered, resting her head on Charles's shoulder as tears of laughter turned into tears of lament. He simply held her. When she was silent, Charles led her to the chaise where she reclined, and he covered her now shivering form. She was still and quiet, exhausted from the emotion. He retrieved a warm soft face cloth and wiped away the fallen tears from her face.
Still covered in the blanket, he carried Jane to his bedroom and gently deposited her on his bed. He urged her to rest and promised to come back shortly, after extinguishing the candles and retrieving her things. She couldn't hold her eyes open to await his return. Charles retrieved the pages and clipped them up, around his studio. He wanted to look at her every day. He couldn't get enough of her. Afterward, Charles crawled into bed waiting for her to wake up until he couldn't wait anymore.
*odalisque- I am referencing Ingres's work, specifically
en dot wikipedia dot org/wiki/Grande_Odalisque
I'm not sure that this is really considered a body type but I always think of that flat pear shape to be odalisque because that is the way they are depicted.
Pygmalion awakes
Another MA warning
Jane awoke confused in a dark, unfamiliar room, realizing after a few moments that she must be in a bedroom. She also realized that Charles was lying next to her, still in his clothes. Jane had a pang of regret and embarrassment that she fell asleep. Well, it was time to remedy the situation.
She peeled off his clothes, piece by piece, while Charles seemed to remain soundly asleep. Jane felt compelled to run her fingers through his hair, then trace the outlines of his face, eyes, and lips. She brushed his neck with her lips, hands lightly caressing his fingers and arms, tracing his muscles as she kissed his chest. Hands and lips lightly stroked Charles's firm abdomen, tracing down. Making the slow journey down Charles's body, Jane submerged beneath the blankets that partially covered them both. She intentionally avoided his rigidity, instead touching his hips, thighs and calves with feather strokes.
Beginning to wonder whether or not Charles was actually awake, Jane tested the theory by slowly caressing his sensitive rib area while significantly hardening her pressure. Charles deftly caught her hands and flipped Jane beneath him, straddling her. She squealed as Charles, never releasing his hold, bent down to silence her with a kiss.
Jane surrendered, opening herself. Charles ran his tongue along her throat, down her sternum, along her hardened nipples and the underside of her firm breasts. He thrust his tongue out licking down her ribs as she gasped and tried to push him away before succumbing. He did the same along her hip bone and the muscles above her thigh, then along her bikini line. Jane convulsed in ecstasy, her energy building to a point it felt she would explode.
Suddenly, Charles dipped his tongue into her pleasure center and he lapped, licked and kissed Jane's nether regions while pinning her down. She was in a blissful torture and made only a feeble struggle against her amorous captor. He kept Jane on the edge, maddeningly slowing down every time she was about to come, only to build up again and again. With a finality that Jane long anticipated, Charles finally ravaged her with his mouth as she was nearing her overwhelming crisis. Jane convulsed wildly in wave after wave of ecstasy as she let out a throaty cry.
As Jane's orgasm subsided, Charles put on a condom before he plunged into her with intensity. Jane loudly exclaimed at the ferocity of his lovemaking and responded in kind. Over and over again he pulled back from the edge, taking his own time to ride her. Shaking, he was overcome with explosions of bliss emanating from his member, seemingly lasting forever, washing over his entire body and through him in the most satisfying orgasm he had ever known. The two lay together, exhausted and enveloped in each other, until sleep overtook them.
When she woke up again, in his arms still, Jane knew where she was in a literal sense, but she was perplexed about this situation in which she had so willingly placed herself. It was a precipice. Jane imagined she would fall into oblivion if his arms ceased their embrace, if she were to dip a toe into the morning's cold, hard floor. His sleepy endearments, then, were incantations making her impervious to such a fate. How long would this spell, this game, last?
Seemingly in reply Charles pronounced it "Magic"
"What?" She blinked.
"My wonderful Jane!" He had bolted up on his knees in the bed, while firmly embracing her about the waist, and, in a pendulous twirling motion, swung her up and dipped her in a breathless kiss. "I can't believe you're really, really here!"
"Neither can I!" She declared, to both of them, to the universe, which was otherwise silent on the matter.
"You do something to me." He said between kisses.
"Oh? And what is that?" She asked, between kisses.
"It's... indescribable… I want to laugh, I want to sing, I want to take a giant canvas and make giant splatters like Pollack*- except that I would only be drunk from you!" Charles buried his head in Jane's shoulder, and, nuzzling her thick, honeyed, veil of hair, inhaled deeply. "You smell so good." He dipped in to Jane's mouth in a soft, lush kiss, "You taste incredible." He tasted more of her. "All of you."
She didn't have time to think as he carried her away again. First there was the relaxed yet efficient manner in which he had brought her to climax with his fingers and mouth in all the right places.
And then he placed Jane so that she was prone, bent just so, on a mountain of cushions on the king size bed. Just so, he had caressed her until she was drenched and beyond ready for his taking. And Charles plunged into her depths, again, and yet again, until both toppled into their release. It was so right that she felt he'd seeped into her sensual awareness.
"Wait here!" He commanded. And she complied, laying on the cushions, feeling as if she had no bones left to heave her form upright. She heard water drawn as the scent of sea and lavender wafted through the room. He carried and immersed Jane into the steaming aromatic tub. "I'll be back. Don't go anywhere." She sighed and allowed herself this bliss.
Where would I go, anyway? Jane mused. All she had was a coat dress which would look slightly suspicious even to her oblivious family.
This thought evaporated with the curls of steam. Jane was simply too relaxed to do anything at this point but trust that Charles would come back. That task was simple for the moment- she was in his tub, after all. He proved good on his word and even returned with some items which she supposed would do better for her walk of shame than said coatdress.
Ever the eager host, Charles helped Jane out of the cooling bath and solicitously dried her every curve and crevice, a task which he enjoyed very much. "See if any of these would do." Jane sorted through a basket containing a selection of button downs, tee shirts, sweaters, jeans, and a few miscellaneous pieces of loungewear.
Initially she was skeptical that her curvy, more generous form would fit into lean Charles's clothes. Again she was surprised at how her perception was distorted when a pair of stretchy lounge pants hugged her hips and thighs. Charles's eyes gleamed in wolfish delight as he observed Jane trying on his things. She found a stretchy heather undershirt and put it on, after which she pulled on a teal green tweed wool sweater which transformed Jane's deep sea eyes to the sweater's exact green. She could tell by his expression that he appreciated what his clothes did for her.
It was her turn to enjoy watching Charles perform his toilette. He put on a Meso American motif tee* and an ancient pair of jeans, both of which bore abundant evidence of past paintings randomly distributed in swipes and splotches, the knees and one spot under a back pocket wearing thread bare. Jane couldn't resist running her finger along that particular hole. "If I'm any more turned on, I'm not going to let you out of this house today," he growled.
With a come hither look, Jane backed away. "I, for one, am hungry. For food."
Charles conceded. They went downstairs and Charles made the best coffee Jane ever tasted. She selected a croissant, while Charles fixed ham and eggs. Jane decided it was the most delectable chocolate croissant she tasted. As they ate, they chatted about their respective projects for the day, their tones conveying normalcy to an otherwise momentous occasion, being, the morning after. Neither spoke further as Charles gave Jane a ride to her place while she got some things she needed for the day, for awhile. Just clothes to change into and a few other things.
The Bennets were gone- busy with their own respective Saturday mornings and there wasn't any unwelcome homecoming or interrogation to break the spell. Without their cacophony, Jane put the family out of her mind easily. And so Jane and Charles continued to luxuriate in the mundane. As they she rode into Longbourn with Charles, Jane decided aloud this had to be one of the best Saturdays morning she'd ever experienced- what a Saturday morning should be. The revolving door of clothing and book retrieval at 'home', then returning to Netherfield became a nightly routine.
Hence Jane expressed same thought on Sunday, Monday, Tuesday…. Every day of the week became better with Charles, even when only sleeping in the same bed, waking up and dashing through school, theatre and projects, only to see each other again that night
*Pollack- Jackson Pollack's splatter paintings
* here is one image of a tee:www dot redbubble dot com /people/flakdamage/works/8775790-aztec-world-tree?p=t-shirt
- My husband has a sun print one but I couldn't find it online
Chapter 15
Half sick of shadows
Jane's personal life and coursework coalesced when, in Family Systems class, she was assigned to write her family history. Doing homework and talking about the topic with Char proved revelatory. They sat at a Desert Spirit, drinking copious amounts of hot beverages and talking, under the guise of studying.
"I used to be the perfect one and my mom couldn't take it when I wasn't perfect anymore. It didn't fit her image. It wasn't me, it was her who 'broke'. I needed to be away from them to see that. Now that I do, I feel even better that Mary and I agreed the summer before last that she would take the Farm. I can't imagine that I would have been happy in the end. It wasn't what I wanted. It took losing it to know that. I am perfectly content with the idea of being a psychologist. It feels more 'me'." Jane then took a sip from her mug.
"I think it's been good for your family. For what it's worth, I think I, too, could become more actualized spending time in a posh house in the arms of a yummy man!" Charlote responded.
"Well have you?" Jane asked, looking up innocently from her mug.
"This conversation isn't about me, is it?" Charlotte crossed her arms.
"We can make it about you. How is Richard?" Jane asked, smiling, brows raised.
Charlotte concentrated on the contents of her mug. "Richard is on assignment for the next few days. Sometimes the military is hard on my poor nerves as your mother would say." She took a fortifying swig of hot chocolate. "I feel petty but I just want to have my post doc settled in a place where we could both be. And, now that you have successfully diverted the conversation… back to you; I take it that you plan to stay at Netherfield because its good for your relationships?"
Jane sighed."I suppose that is my rationalization for it but the sex is good too- when it happens. We're busy with work and school, all too often."
"Ah, to be in that predicament." Charlotte lamented.
"Don't worry Char, it will happen soon enough. Richard will be back on leave before you know it. Besides, you have your own place, you're well on your way to a PhD. You have things in hand." Jane put her hand on her friend's shoulder, reassuringly, not noticing that Charlotte looked down and had wrapped her arms protectively around her middle. The two continued to study and discuss Lizzy's unbelievably slow wit to not notice how Darcy was besotted with her, wondering if the Fair would promote young love or extinguish it.
Chapter 16: Sorting Seeds
"….And this is my third eldest daughter Mary, who is always out in the garden or studying botany. She is going to inherit the Farm since Jane had her accident and Lizzy is… well, Lizzy." Francesca introduced botanical genius Lee Collins to her family.
His head bobbed in acknowledgment of each family member, stopping at a particular Bennet. "Mary Mary quite contrary how does your garden grow? Did you know that nursery rhyme….".
"Oh lord!" Kitty exclaimed
"What a weenie" Lydon said under his breath
"For once, something upon which we both agree," replied Mr Bennet, rolling his eyes. He had the distinct pleasure of hosting Lee Collins, distinguished Rosings Foundation's resident 'Environmental Therapist' and National Extension Service sustainable gardening grant recipient.
Usually at odds, that evening at least, the Bennet gentlemen found a common target and were, for once, unified, bantering back and forth, making jokes about hipsters who garden. Oblivious to goings on around them, Mary and Collins proceeded to monopolize each others' time throughout dinner, something in which the two Bennet men found even greater amusement.
The usually stoic Mary's interest in 'the weenie' was plain to Lydon who took immense pleasure in tormenting all of his sisters for any reason he could find. This night was no exception and their father did nothing to stop him, unable to suppress his mirth at his wife's ineffective clucking at Lydon's insults that were thinly veiled with humor. His father only complimented Lydon that he could see the boy did get *something* from his father, after all. Other than her mother's jibe, Lizzy was very glad to avoid any further attention from that quarter that night.
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It did not exclude Lizzy from further attentions from her mother. Francesca gossiped about the future of The Farm and her hopeful son in law at every opportunity- usually during fittings for Kitty's newest Fair Queen pageant clothes, when Lizzy was stuck with pins in her mouth.
"Of course I take every advantage of Collins accompanying Mary every Wednesday and Saturday to the Farmer's Market. Everyone knows who he is and is green with envy! They come over to Mary's booth and introduce themselves to him asking if he would even mention them in his popular blog about locally grown produce. And do you know the only family in Dona Maria to have such a distinction? Ours! Mary is quite lucky to be the recipient of Collins's attentions. I wonder if he is interested in her or just her plants! Well it is no matter, because the garden is certainly benefiting from his solicitude."
The family was always busy this time of year. Francesca worked with Lydon and Kitty on activities such as Kitty's Fair Queen duties, both kids' livestock, and with the 4-H club on upcoming fair entries.* Mary had school, Collins had the symposium, and inbetween both worked the Farmer's Market. Jane was gone virtually all the time- either with Charles or at school; Lizzy was busy with school and projects.
For some reason, Lizzy thought things more tense this year. When at home, she noticed the family's busyness and her father's more liberally applied acerbic wit, directed at his empty nest. The only time that the family seemed to be all together and at peace was when Wickham came over and made dinner. The dinners were always superb and his conversational skills smoothed out any conflict.
Lizzy was surprised that he was 'such a fixture' to coin a term he'd previously used, and carefully watched her family to see if she could detect any signs of unwelcome and she couldn't. Not even from her father. Perhaps he was just happy everyone was home since he had taken to complaining about how none of them stayed home anymore.
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After she finished Kitty and Lydon's shirts, and Kitty's dress for the fair, she was at home even less. She as spent most of her time on studio and Costume Shop work, keeping her away from the Farm, and at Longbourn late into most evenings and on weekends. It was convenient to stay with Maya in town.
Maya had been around the Bennet family enough to know the situation. She could easily tolerate the boisterous family for Mrs Bennets wholesome meals and the beauty of their farm. Lately there just hadn't been time, though. After school one Thursday, Lizzy plopped down on Maya's futon. "Here, I brought home some more of those amazing brownies Wickham makes. "
"Oomph. Oh G-d." Maya gurgled between mouthfuls. "These are sooo good! I don't think I need a man ever again. Just these. The name is perfect. The Big O Brownies."
It was Lizzy' turn to speak between mouthfuls of brownie, "It's the least I could do. Thank you for letting me crash here. I am just too stressed to go home at night. Honestly though it is pretty convenient to work such long hours right now, things are too weird there without Jane. Heck, things were weird with Jane- ever since Charles, she's been in la-la land. That's why she didn't write me much this summer. I only see her at work, now!
Even Mary is out being some kind of hipster with her new boyfriend. Traitors. Did I tell you that Wickham seems to be around for every family meal? Mom doesn't even care that he's taken over her kitchen. And DAD! If he's not complaining about the empty nest, he's raving over Wickham's cooking or teasing Collins with Lydon!
That or mom is screeching at Lydon about attending to his 4-H projects and Dad makes dry comments about her nerves being his only companion. I guess that's why he agrees to Mom's scheme- she figures that Wickham might get him to be more constructive with his time."
"How?" Maya had made quick work of the brownie and was licking crumbs from her fingers.
Lizzy smirked at her friend as she did the same. "I don't know. They go horseback riding together and Wickham hangs out while Lydon practices roping."
"I don't think he's going to be the kind of cowboy your mom wants, no offense." Maya was now picking up crumbs and straightening so they could both study.
"He seems to take to Wickham pretty well." Lizzy looked up from sorting through her papers.
"But isn't he a little old to be a mentor?" Maya gazed at her friend.
"I feel like he is, but is it hypocritical when Char is 6 years older than me and she used to take me clubbing underage? I can't believe Wickham is up to with Lydon what he was up to in Lambton with adults." Lizzy wrinkled her forehead. Maya let the matter drop. She and Lizzy had more lofty things to discuss such as their Art History Papers. The matter rested for the evening, but she couldn't escape forever.
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Returning to the shop the next evening Lizzy was reminded of how much she wanted to escape. Her family were the tip of the iceberg. Hiding for a moment, she spied on Maeve and Darcy, listening as he made an arse out of himself yet again. The man had a bad habit of that.
"You want me to what?" His face was incredulous.
"You're a smart man, you heard me." Maeve's lip twitched as she stared at Darcy in challenge.
"I can't believe it! I brought truffles! I thought that was the atonement for missing an appointment?" Lizzy didn't know Darcy could adopt such a high pitch in his voice.
"Oh really, missing an appointment? Is that all? Because I was under the impression that your offenses also involved a certain Costume shop babe with fine eyes." Maeve's expression was as mirthful as it was serious.
Darcy stepped back. "What did you hear?"
Maeve stepped forward. "Plenty. How much of it should I believe?"
"It depends on what you heard." Darcy's usual suave, reserved demeanor faded as he faced Lizzy's formidable mentor. How could this plump, mischievous hippie from a regional theatre be so intimidating? And in a costume shop of all places- the traditional dumping ground of all theatrical angst.
I've got to give it to her, she's got a lot of power. Lizzy thought.
"Will, we've known each other awhile." Maeve's hand was on her hip.
"Exactly, so I don't understand why you're having me do an intern's job and sort these seed beads from that disgusting bin. It's going to take forever, having to untie those knots. Darcy's pout was hilarious. Lizzy thought the man could really be a baby sometimes.
"Well, you're not exactly going anywhere- I know you're at a standstill until Mark approves your progress on the drops and he's busy until tomorrow morning. And yet, (her eyes sparkled when she said this) you find you must be here to approve any lighting or set changes they are running. Hm. Whatever will you do with all that waiting time?
"Great. Alright. Where do you want me to sort these? Will set to work sorting the tote. Who in their right mind would put a bunch of tiny beads in such a large container and how did those bugs get in here? It's disgusting.
Lizzy finally took this as the perfect opportunity to emerge and replied "My Aunt Phil got this at an Estate Sale. She's the one who conveniently put them in this tote to bring to the shop, since she knows that is how we store things here. She thought they'd be perfect for that mourning look you've been so keen on. Thank you for your interest."
Maeve hooted in hilarity as she watched the two spar. "Tell us how you really feel, Lizzy, I don't want to miss anything. She took a seat as if she were audience and heckler at a vaunted Broadway performance. I knew we didn't have any volunteers coming in and figured you'd start needing these for the show. Is that ok?" Maeve's eyebrow cocked in amusement.
Lizzy squinted a little, thinking something else entirely, but said to her mentor, "It is your shop, Maeve, I can't complain. He will be useful tonight since no one else is coming in and you're right not to put that work off. Even if it will be a pain in my ass the whole night."
"Elizabeth, I apologize. Being a pain in your ass, as you put it, was completely unintentional. I don't want to be a pain in anyone's ass. Especially your ass. I respect it too much. Darcy's tone threatened to tell Maeve more than Lizzy wanted her to know."
Lizzy could see by her expression, Maeve was beside herself at Darcy's flirtatious apology but kept her mouth shut. Maeve stood up to unfold a bolt of fabric, but Lizzy knew she was still observing them both intently. Lizzy turned to Darcy: "I'm warning you, I have some draping and cutting to do and it's going to be a long night so you better keep your condescension to yourself, right?"
Maeve took that as a cue to turn on an old costume shop stand by, an Aretha Franklin 'best of' CD she'd put together.
hope this tides you over till All Hallow's Eve
hope to hear from you or at least follow me so I can see who the dozens of people are on my graph :) please and thank you