Mary drew the curtains back to allow the bright February sun to shine into the earl's bedroom.
"Good morning, Mary," the countess mumbled from the bed, still half asleep. She had her own room, of course, but that was entirely for appearances. She had only slept there when Monty had been in prison.
"Good morning, your ladyship," the maid replied cheerfully.
A grunt came from the other side of the bed.
"Good morning, your lordship," Mary said, trying not to laugh. She picked up a breakfast tray from the table and set it across the lap of Phoebe, who had propped herself up with her pillows. The maid returned to the table to fetch the earl's breakfast tray, walked back to the bed, and paused.
"Monty, darling," said Phoebe gently, "you're going to have to sit up."
Monty grumbled a bit but obeyed his wife. He accepted the breakfast tray from Mary, who curtseyed politely and left. In the corner of the tray sat a stack of three or four envelopes, which he began to open after sipping his tea and spreading jam on toast. The first letter was from some organisation, requesting money. Handing it to his wife for her opinion, he took the letter opener to the next envelope. Enclosed was a reminder that Bella and Donna had an appointment with their groomer later that week. Picking up the third letter, he paused, smiling. Addressed in a swirling hand he recognised well, it bore his name next to Phoebe's. He put his hand on the countess's arm so she would also look at the envelope. The brunette gave a smile to match her husband's; generally letters like this brought news of the absence of a certain husband. Carefully slicing open the top of the envelope, Monty unfolded the letter, which was written on light pink stationary, and held it out so that the countess could read it at the same time.
"My darlings," it began, written in the same hand as the address. "It has recently come to my attention that my husband will be in Derbyshire on business from the twelfth of February through to the seventeenth of February. This, unfortunately, would leave me quite alone in the house that week. And on Saint Valentine's Day as well! Oh, what a terrible situation to be in! With nowhere to go and no one to see, for an entire week! I shouldn't be surprised if I died of boredom! Woefully yours, Sibella"
Phoebe giggled. "She does know how to get an invitation."
"She does indeed," Monty laughed. Extracting himself from underneath the breakfast tray, he climbed out of bed and crossed the room to his writing desk by the window.
"You might put on a robe or something, darling. The curtains are open," Phoebe suggested.
Turning on his heel, Monty snatched his burgundy dressing gown from the foot of the bed, swinging it around his shoulders as he crossed back again toward the desk. Pulling the robe closed in front of him, he took from the drawer a sheet of paper, and a fountain pen with the required ink. "My dearest, Mrs. Holland," he wrote, speaking aloud so that Phoebe could hear. "How sorry I am to hear of your predicament! Both the countess and I are agreed that an entire week spent alone would be highly unpleasant, and I write to offer you an invitation to Highhurst for the duration of that week. A car may be sent for you at whatever time most convenient on the twelfth. I am joined by the countess in hoping that you are able to accept our invitation. All the best, Monty"
He turned to look at his wife for her approval.
"Sign it 'Lord Navarro.' Since you addressed her as 'Mrs. Holland.'"
"It's not particularly suspect, anyone knows she calls me by my nickname."
"Fair enough," Phoebe conceded.
Monty grinned at her before taking an envelope from the drawer and addressing it to Sibella. In a moment, the sealed letter sat in the corner of the desk, waiting to be posted.
"We'll have to ask Mary to bring up the third set of pillows," Phoebe said thoughtfully.
"Mary really is a dear girl, always so happy to help. And never asking questions!" he said cheerfully, reclaiming his place in the bed.
"Thank heavens for that!" his wife agreed. She smiled at him coyly. "I don't believe the dressing gown is necessary any longer."
Monty's sleek black car arrived at the grand front doors of Highhurst the afternoon of February twelfth. Bennamy, the first footman, opened the car door and helped Sibella step out. She was impeccably dressed in a dark pink gown with a smart matching hat and pristine gloves. Monty and Phoebe were waiting for her at the top of the steps.
"Hello, dear!" the countess said, kissing Sibella's cheek.
"Hello, darling!" the blonde exclaimed, returning the peck on the cheek. "And hello, darling!" she said, turning to Monty, who embraced her. But the moment Bennamy had turned the corner to take Sibella's bag upstairs, he kissed the blonde full on the mouth.
Sibella giggled. "Straight for that, now?" she asked playfully.
"Always," Monty replied.
Still laughing, the blonde reached over to take Phoebe's hand. "Oh, it's so nice to be home," she sighed happily.
"It's never the same without you," the countess replied with a smile.
The trio walked into the drawing room and sat side by side on the luxuriously upholstered sofa- Phoebe on the left, Sibella in the middle, and Monty on the right, the three nestled together contentedly.
The three of them slept in on the morning of the fourteenth. Mary knew better than to go into the earl's room when Mrs. Holland was staying over. There was no telling what she might walk in on, even if she knocked. It was not until around ten that Phoebe opened her eyes slowly, propped herself up on her side, and reached over her husband to tap Sibella on the arm. The blonde mumbled something incoherent but kept her eyes closed. Phoebe tapped again, more insistently, and the other woman woke up. They made eye contact and smiled conspiratorially. Phoebe lifted her hand and silently counted to three with her fingers.
When she reached three, each of the women leaned down, kissed Monty on the nearest cheek, and yelled, "Happy Valentine's Day, darling!"
Monty woke with a start. Looking at both of the women, he sighed, laughing. He leaned over to kiss his wife, then turned and kissed Sibella.
Phoebe got out of bed, not bothering to put on a dressing gown (the curtains were still closed, after all). She crossed to the writing table at which Monty had written his note to Sibella, opened a drawer, and retrieved two notebooks- one pink and one a dark, regal purple. She climbed back into bed and handed each of her loves a notebook.
"What's this, darling?" Sibella asked.
"Your presents, of course!" the countess replied, beaming.
Monty opened his purple notebook and read aloud. "An Unconventional Love Story, by Lady Phoebe D'Ysquith Navarro, Countess of Highhurst."
"I've written down the story of the three of us," Phoebe explained. "It took up nearly all of the pages, too. Now, you must make sure no one else ever sees them, because they could implicate all three of us in various crimes. But I wanted each of you to have a copy."
Sibella began to read the first page. "How do you know all of this? You weren't there when Monty and I met!"
"Discreet questioning of both of you over the course of several months," the countess said proudly. "I'd get bits of the story from each of you and then compile it."
"Oh, darling, it's beautiful!" exclaimed Sibella, smiling.
"Thank you," Phoebe replied simply, leaning over to kiss the blonde.
"Excuse me," Monty protested as the two women leaned across him, "I think it's beautiful, too!"
Phoebe laughed and kissed her husband.
"I mean it," he said earnestly. "This must have taken you ages, writing everything by hand."
"I like to be busy," she said with a modest smile.
"My turn!" Sibella announced. Climbing out of bed, she fumbled around in the pocket of one of her bags, producing a folded sheet of paper. Getting back into bed, she handed it to Phoebe. "Read it aloud," she said with a mischievous grin.
Unfolding the paper, curious, Phoebe spoke hesitantly, stumbling slightly over the words in front of her. "Une carte de Paris: A Map of Paris." Leaning over to show Monty, the pair of them examined the paper interestedly.
"It's a map of Paris, with all of my favourite places marked. I've written down everything I want to do with you there. All we have to do is get there!" She raised an eyebrow at Monty. This had been an ongoing conversation for several weeks now, Sibella practically begging him to take Phoebe and her to Paris. The earl and the countess had never been, but Sibella had stayed there several times and spoke almost fluent French. "We'll go to Montmartre in the late afternoon and stay into the evening and watch the sun set over Paris from that hill- it's the most stunning view- and we'll go to Versailles, and the Garnier, and I'll take you to my favourite cafés and patisseries, it'll be perfect! Paris est absolument magnifique!"
By this point, both women were looking expectantly at the man between them. Sighing exasperatedly, with some difficulty he extracted himself from the bed and retrieved the coat he had worn two nights prior. From its pocket he took two envelopes. Clamboring over Sibella to reclaim his place in the bed, he handed an envelope to each woman. "Your gifts," he explained.
Sibella got her envelope open just a moment before Phoebe did, and gave a gasp. Looking over at Monty delightedly, she threw herself on top of him in a hug.
Phoebe removed the tickets from the envelope and turned to look at her husband with an excited smile. "Truly?" she asked breathlessly.
"I've booked passage on the ship, and the train tickets into the city as well," he told them, returning their grins. "We leave in a month and a half."
"Oh, Monty!" Phoebe added herself to the human hug pile.
"Phoebe, we're going to Paris!" shrieked Sibella.
"Oui!" Phoebe replied with equal excitement, and the women collapsed into merry giggles. "Wait a moment," the countess said suddenly. "A month and a half from now is April first. You're not going to tell us this is all a prank on the day we expect to leave, are you?"
"He wouldn't dare." Sibella fixed him with a frightening glare.
"My dear, if you examine your ticket more carefully, you can see that we are due to depart on April second. I assure you, it's no trick."
"Thank heavens for that!" Phoebe kissed him again. She glanced at Sibella. "What are you going to tell Lionel?"
"To hell with Lionel, I'll say anything I have to!"
The other two laughed and embraced her.