by Splendid You
The shock in her voice brought him back to a reality gone mad. Was it possible that, in spite of every good intention, he was on the floor, his hands filled with Julia’s delicious body, her taste permeating his mouth? He was appalled by his lack of control. Even at that moment, every cell in his body clamored for him to continue, to seduce her into receiving alt the things he wanted to give her. He could tell from her response thus far that she would participate willingly, never even asking if he loved her.
But it was his responsibility to care for her, even if she would he an eager collaborator in her own ruin. Not just because she was a guest in his house, but because she was Julia, unique and infinitely dear. His duty to her was clear. All the same, Simon had to clench his fingers tightly into fists in order to find the will to take his hands away.
“Julia ... my God. I never meant., . my God.”
Still astride his lap, she rose up, staring down at his heaving chest. Her hands, fingers spread wide, covered the ridges of his stomach. She met his eyes and he read the confusion there. She said wonderingly, “I liked it, Simon. It’s probably wrong of me, but I liked it.”
“It was wrong of me, Julia. You don’t know ...”
She closed her eyes, her head falling back, and he’d never seen anything as beautiful as her face as she examined, with the force of her fine mind, the storm of her body. Then she frowned. Shaking back her hair so that it switched back and forth, she said, “There has to be more. I feel so ... what is the word ... incomplete?”
He could not lie. “Yes, there’s more, much more.”
His knuckles hurt from clenching his hands so hard, but he dared not let go. He said, “But not for us. There’s never going to be more for us, Julia.”
“No?”
He shook his head. That hurt, too, for it seemed his neck dearly wanted to nod. The warmth from her thighs, open over his waist, spread through his whole body like a tide.
“Julia, please get up.” He tried to smile but feared it was a dismal failure. “I’m only human, my dear. We should never be alone again if this much could happen so fast between us. Next time ...”
Her smile was almost as blissful as he could have made it given just a few more minutes of madness. “Next time...”
“No, Julia. No.”
He couldn’t help wincing as she rose to her feet, but there was no point in hiding the truth with a conveniently placed hand. After all, she’d seen representations of the male body more than once in the hieroglyphs. With her skirts falling naturally into place, she looked quite as usual. He, on the other hand, appeared to have been ravaged and then tossed, a helpless wreck, on the floor of his study.
She said, coolly enough, “You would counsel me to wait until I am married to learn the rest? But I never will marry now, not even you. Am I never to know what else there is?”
He had no answer for that. Julia hoped he would not. She also hoped that he’d spring to his feet, grab her, and carry her beyond the shore of the country they’d come so near to exploring. But whatever she’d done to drive him beyond his admirable self-control would not work a second time. If only she had more arts with which to entrance him!
She swore to herself that she would not be embarrassed by her near-seduction until she reached the solitude of her room. The defences she would summon to face the trial of meeting him in the morning would have to be thought out later. She sashayed a bit as she left and could have sworn she heard a muffled groan behind her. She did not look back.
On the landing, a door stood open. At the sound of her footsteps, a figure stood silhouetted against the light. Julia peered at it. “Miss Archer? I do hope you are feeling better.”
“I hope you and the man have joined in love, Julia.”
“Lucy?” Then something in the regal tone alerted her to the truth. She glanced down the stairs but she had indeed heard the door to Simon’s study slam shut. Coming nearer, Julia whispered, “An-ket?”
Chapter Eighteen
With her body still in turmoil from the past few mad minutes with Simon, this last shock sent Julia reeling. She staggered to a chair and fell into it as if pushed.
Lucy’s blond beauty was oddly accented by the arts of Egypt. Dark lines had been drawn about her eyes and her pale hair had been divided into innumerable braids. About her slender body, she wore what looked like a pleated bedsheet. With a glance at the stripped bed, Julia confirmed her guess.
She stared about the room, seeing it less as the shambles it was than as the scene of an experiment. An-ket must have explored the depths of Lucy’s wardrobe, not realizing that the fashionable clothes of an ordinary woman were not designed to be put on by herself alone but with a maid’s or a sister’s service. Then, of course, buttons would be something of a mystery as well. Small wonder she’d at last seized upon a bedsheet to make a familiar gown.
Blinking at the figure before her, she said, “I was terribly worried about you when they threw the cat out. How did it happen?”
“This body touched the cat first and I changed into it.”
“How? By what mechanism do you do these things?”
It was strange to see the proud, majestic smile of An-ket upon the pretty, entirely English face of Lucy. Even her movements were more fluidly graceful as An-ket lifted her hands, palm to palm, before her face. “By the will of the Lady who brings love and laughter to the land.”
“I don’t understand. The gods of Egypt are ...” She could not bring herself to tell An-ket that her religion had died with Cleopatra thirty years before Christ.
“The gods are immortal, though you call them by other names now and have but one. All power flows from Ra. If it pleases him to make one hundred gods, or only one son, we are still their servants. I am the servant of the Great She, whether in this body or in the Field of Reeds.”
Then her sternness left her and she laughed with the easy spontaneity of a young girl. “There are such marvels here in this one room, that I have played for hours. And the food!” She pointed to a tray on a chair. “Where come you by such delights as this red fruit, this apple?”
Though Julia had not known Lucy well, she’d been struck by the pervading sense of pensive sadness she gave off like a perfume. Her head drooped, her smiles were sweet but fleeting, and her eyes never seemed to shine with interest in anything. An-ket changed all that. Julia saw Lucy as she was meant to be, happy, without any shadow fallen over her.
She asked, “An-ket, where does Lucy go while you live in her body?”
“She is here.” An-ket placed her hand over her heart. “I am speaking, but she is within as well. Like two people dwelling in one house.”
“May I speak with her?”
“If it is her wish....”
Without any outward change, not so much as a grimace, Lucy was suddenly ‘there.’ Lucy’s body relaxed into the stance of a properly brought up girl, which was still excellent posture but nothing compared to the effortlessly regal air of An-ket.
“Miss Hanson,” she said in her own accent.
“Are you all right?”
“This is the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me! I’ve never realized before what Simon was always going on about, but what An-ket is telling me of Egypt is fascinating!”
“You talk to each other?”
“I know what she knows; she knows what I know. You needn’t worry about fooling anyone. We’ll come down tomorrow and not even Mother will be able to tell. An-ket’s looking forward to seeing more of the house and the city.”
Lucy frowned and shook her head as though to respond to some inner voice. “An-ket is right; we both need to work on our appearances. Why do you wear such dreadful clothes? Don’t be offended, please! If you’re going to marry my brother...”
“I’m not.”
“No?” Apparently raising one eyebrow ran in Simon’s family. “You were kissing him just now.”
“How did you know that?” Could they see through walls?
Lucy laid a cool
fingertip to the side of Julia’s throat. “Look in the mirror. An-ket says that’s a love bite and she would know. She was married in life to a very attractive fellow named ... named Senusret. I now realize I was a perfect fool to carry on so about what Robert and I did.”
“What did you do?” Julia asked as she examined her throat in the mirror. She hadn’t felt anything but delight when Simon had kissed her there, yet there was a mark. “I suppose powder will cover it.”
Lucy just laughed. “If you haven’t a dress with a high collar, we can borrow one from Amanda.”
“What did go wrong between you and Major Winslow?”
“I listened to foolish girls who told me what they’d been told by other foolish girls. That if a man kisses you it’s a sin. That you can become pregnant from his touch. That wanting a man to love you makes you no better than a prostitute.”
“I never thought I’d be grateful for having only superficial conversations with my friends! What are you going to do?”
“Do?” Some of the new self-confidence Lucy displayed evaporated. “I haven’t the faintest notion. I want to go back two years to pick up my lost chance, and not even An-ket can do that!”
“If you feel that you made a mistake, go to him. He’s just across the street, for goodness sake! Throw yourself at him; I’m sure he’ll catch you.”
“No, I couldn’t do that. Not just fling myself at him. What would he think of me?”
“You’d get what you want.”
“No,” Lucy said, paling. “No. Even An-ket says she made Senusret wait and work for her. She says ...”
The voice of An-ket, deeper, fuller, older, came from Lucy’s mouth. “Women, being weaker, must be craftier than men. They do not cherish what they achieve without effort.”
“That is unfortunately true,” Julia said. Why else would Simon have refused her just now? He must have known how much she was his, body and soul. She thought of his hand on her thigh and felt a new, completely pleasurable palpitation of her heart. She didn’t know how, but there had to be a way to get Simon alone again in order to finish what they’d begun.
“So what is to be done?” she asked them. “We can’t flirt, because then they think we are not serious. We can’t have a simple, honest discussion of wants and needs, because that would shock the poor dears too much. Nor can we grab them and force them to love us because ... Well, because!”
“You see my difficulty,” Lucy said. “And it’s even worse for me, because I was such a little idiot two years ago. I’d still be one now if it weren’t for An-ket. I want to thank you, Julia, for bringing her into today.”
“I don’t think I did it, did I? It just... happened.”
There was one question Julia didn’t dare ask. Strange forces were at work in this room and, though she didn’t show it, she was frightened. All the same, she wondered whether An-ket was in this time and Lucy’s body to stay. The Priestess of Hathor seemed to be enjoying herself all too much.
Her enjoyment increased on the following day. Early in the morning, Lucy sent Apple in to wake up Julia. It had been too early for her because with so much to think about, she’d not fallen asleep until long after she’d heard the chimes strike three. Despite her wakefulness, ears on the prick for every sound, she’d never heard Simon go past her door. Had he slept in his study, or had he followed through on his notion of sleeping at his club?
Apple answered this unspoken question as she brought in a tray. “Such a to-do, miss.”
“What’s that?”
‘The master—I’ve never known ‘im to do such a thing before, but he paid a call on the Winslow house last night.”
“I know. I went with him. I think the blue walking dress, thank you, Apple.” Julia tried to sound distant and uninterested, for she knew it was very rude indeed to encourage other people’s servants to gossip about the family. But she might as well have tried to change the course of the Thames.
“Ah, the first time you did indeed, but not the second. The second time nothing went with him but a bottle! An’ I seen the general’s boot boy this mornin’ and ‘e says that there never were two men who drank faster than them two. Shocking, ain’t it?” the maid said with a sniff, taking out the dress and giving it a shake. “This ‘un? But it ain’t got no ruffles nor nothing. Why don’t none of your clothes have fancies, miss?”
“It’s a whim of mine.”
“Coo"
So, Simon had gone out to get drunk last night and chose Robert Winslow for a companion, of all people. As soon as she was dressed, she hurried along to Lucy’s room. She knew Apple had most likely delivered the same story to everyone in the house along with their breakfast trays.
“It is meaningless,” An-ket said. “All men do such at times.”
“It’s not like Simon,” Julia said confidently, though she suffered a few doubts when she realized that for all she knew he could drink himself insensible four nights out of five. But then she remembered his clear eyes, steady hands, and sweet kisses and knew absolutely that there was no truth in it. Strange that her emotions could answer for him before her mind worked through all the ramifications.
“Robert never used to drink, either, though I hear India can change a man for the worst.”
“We have to arrange a meeting between you and Robert so you can see whether he’s changed that much.”
“Walk in the marketplace,” An-ket said. “That is how Senusret found me.”
Though at first she’d found it unnerving to have two voices sneaking in turn from the same set of vocal chords, Julia learned that the human mind was so wonderfully elastic that she soon grew quite used to it. Sometimes it seemed as though An-ket and Lucy spoke to each other, too, but in their shared mind. Once or twice during the day, Julia heard her companion laugh, seemingly at something heard inside.
She had a list of tasks to accomplish in pursuit of an organized party. Aided—or complicated—by Mrs. Archer having made out a separate list, Julia took An-ket/Lucy along. Mrs. Archer was so pleased that Lucy was taking an interest in something at last that she made no demur. Yet the older woman seemed distracted when Julia spoke to her.
“Is something the matter? Is it Simon?”
“He’s never done anything like this before. He’s always been so moderate, so abstemious! I’ve never worried about his falling in with evil companions in that way.”
This seemed to indicate that there were other things about Simon that troubled his mother. “Oh, no,” Mrs. Archer said when very gently pressed. “No. He told me ... that is, he promised that he wasn’t at all... well, he’s everything a mother could ask for in a son. And my opinion of dear Robert Winslow was set very high as well, despite his having broken ... oh. Have a good time.”
Jane had a piano teacher coming to give her lessons while Amanda had sneaked off early to plunge again into the adventures of Athos, Porthos, Aramis, and D’Artagnan, so Julia and An-ket/Lucy went out alone.
What An-ket had seen of London thus far had been either at night or on the eye level of a cat. Riding through the broad streets, in an open landau, seeing all the marvels of the town, she caught her breath so often that the driver wondered if she had the hiccups. “Drink water out the wrong side of a glass—that’ll cure ‘em.”
Julia might not be able to persuade Simon Archer to do the least little thing he did not chose to do, but caterers, orchestra leaders, and florists were putty in her hands. Even the formidable butler at the residence of the Earl Rexbury could not have been more helpful or courteous despite her proceeding to overset some of his most cherished traditions.
As he showed her to their carriage, she said, “You’ve been marvelous about all this, Tufferty. Tell her ladyship how much I appreciate all she’s done.”
“It is our pleasure,” he said, bowing.
As the carriage pulled away, Julia marked off the second to last item on her list with a decisive flick of the tiny silver pencil she wore around her neck on a long chain. “Almost done. A visit to
the wine merchants and we’ll have plenty of time to see some sights before we go back to help poor Jane with those invitations....”
Her voice trailed off as she realized Lucy was staring at her. It was unmistakably the English girl and not the Egyptian woman, for An-ket never let her mouth hang open. “What is it?” Julia asked.
“That—that was Tufferty,” she said.
“Yes? Is there something wrong with him? Don’t tell me he drinks?” Lucy shook her head. “Or is prone to apoplectic attacks? This ball will never go off as planned if Mr. Tufferty falls ill.”
“No, I’m sure he’s fine and certainly no drunkard.”
“Thank heaven!”
“It’s just that... I only ... I’ve always been terrified of him. Whenever Mother brings us to see my aunt or uncle, I always hide from Tufferty’s beetling eyebrows. Mother doesn’t like him, either; if she’s said it once, she’s said it a thousand times. Tufferty takes advantage of his position. But for you, he rolled over like a dog asking to have his stomach rubbed.”
“What a horrible image!”
They went off to the wine merchant’s—Fobber, Harris, and Lake—where Julia ordered a much, much better quality of champagne than Mrs. Archer had requested. By coincidence, Mr. Lake had long been supplying Julia’s father with his wines, having helped to lay down the foundation of his cellar with Mr. Hanson’s first fortune. He immediately suggested an excellent vintage and was only too delighted to charge it all to her father’s account when she explained the circumstances.
“Thank you, Mr. Lake. The only thing I know about being a hostess is to serve the very best champagne. The food may be dreadful, the music dull, and the company appalling, but giving them the best champagne is like waving Cinderella’s godmother’s wand. The women become more beautiful, the men more witty, and even the dancing improves.”
Mr. Lake, who bore a remarkable resemblance to a red grape, being rotund and of a bright complexion, said discreetly, “I trust we’ll soon have the pleasure—humm?— of supplying the champagne for a wedding breakfast, Miss Julia.”