#marlborough offers everything

[cosmosim]

The Best Travelling Wine Tasting in Different Destinations

The best travelling wine tasting experiences take you to renowned wine regions around the world, from Napa Valley to Tuscany, Bordeaux to the Barossa Valley. These curated tours allow you to sample exquisite wines, learn from expert vintners, and explore stunning vineyard landscapes. Each destination offers its own unique flavours and winemaking traditions, creating a rich, immersive experience for wine lovers. Perfect for combining travel with a passion for wine, these tours are unforgettable adventures.

The Heart of American Wine of The Most Famous Wine regions in The World of Travelling Wine Tasting

Napa Valley, California, is one of the most famous wine regions in the world, making it a top destination for travelling wine tasting. With its award-winning wineries, scenic vineyards, and iconic Cabernet Sauvignon, Napa offers personalised wine tours and tastings. Visitors can enjoy everything from private cellar experiences to food pairings, making it a must-visit for any wine enthusiast.

The Historic French Wine Haven Known As History and Exceptional Blends of Travelling Wine Tasting

Bordeaux, France, is another prime destination for travelling wine tasting, known for its rich history and exceptional blends. This region produces some of the world’s finest wines, including Merlot and Cabernet Franc. Wine lovers can explore historic châteaux, participate in guided tastings, and immerse themselves in the deep-rooted French winemaking traditions that have shaped the industry.

Tuscany’s Chianti and Brunello Adventures Blend The Beauty CountrySide of Travelling Wine Tasting

For those seeking a travelling wine tasting experience with picturesque views, Tuscany is the ideal destination. Known for its stunning landscapes and delicious Chianti and Brunello wines, Tuscany offers tours that blend the beauty of the countryside with exceptional wine tastings. Visitors can tour charming vineyards, meet local producers, and indulge in authentic Italian wine culture.

Australia’s Shiraz Paradise is A Top Travelling Destination for fan of Bold with Travelling Wine Tasting

Australia’s Barossa Valley is a top travelling wine tasting destination for fans of bold, full-bodied wines. Famous for its Shiraz, this region offers intimate tastings at boutique wineries and large-scale vineyards alike. Travellers can take part in vineyard tours, barrel tastings, and enjoy food pairings featuring local Australian produce, all while soaking in the beautiful, sun-drenched landscapes.

A Taste of the Cape of South Africa, Introduces visitors of Travelling Wine Tasting

Travelling wine tasting in Stellenbosch, South Africa, introduces visitors to a vibrant wine scene known for Chenin Blanc and Pinotage. The region offers a mix of modern and historic wineries, stunning views of the Cape Winelands, and expertly curated tastings. The unique terroir and flavours make Stellenbosch a must-visit for adventurous wine lovers.

Argentina’s Malbec Mecca Its A Favourite Destination for Travelling Wine Tasting

Argentina’s Mendoza region is synonymous with Malbec, and it is a favourite destination for travelling wine tasting. With its high-altitude vineyards and impressive mountain views, Mendoza provides unforgettable tasting experiences. Visitors can enjoy vineyard tours, wine pairings with local cuisine, and learn about the region’s distinctive winemaking techniques.

The Sauvignon Blanc Star of Scenic Beauty and Excellence of Travelling Wine Tasting

Marlborough, New Zealand, is renowned for its crisp and refreshing Sauvignon Blanc. Travelling wine tasting tours in this region offer a mix of scenic beauty and wine excellence. Visitors can explore innovative winemaking practices and enjoy tastings that showcase the vibrant, zesty flavours that put New Zealand on the global wine map.

Conclusion

Travelling wine tasting across the world’s top regions offers a unique opportunity to explore diverse winemaking traditions, flavours, and landscapes. From the rolling hills of Tuscany to the sun-drenched vineyards of Barossa Valley, each destination provides a distinct experience. Whether you’re a fan of bold reds or crisp whites, travelling wine tastings allow you to dive deep into local cultures while savouring the finest wines the world has to offer. Each trip becomes a celebration of wine, food, and stunning views, making it an essential experience for wine lovers worldwide.

[nstsofia]

Book Your Dream New Zealand Honeymoon Package with Flybird Tourism

Embark on a romantic journey of a lifetime with Flybird Tourism’s exquisite New Zealand honeymoon packages. Renowned for its stunning landscapes, vibrant culture, and adventure-filled experiences, New Zealand is the perfect destination for newlyweds seeking a blend of tranquility and excitement.

Our New Zealand honeymoon packages are meticulously crafted to offer an unforgettable experience for couples. Imagine waking up to the serene beauty of Lake Tekapo, exploring the mystical glowworm caves in Waitomo, or indulging in the world-class wines of Marlborough. Each itinerary is designed to ensure you and your partner experience the best of what New Zealand has to offer.

At Flybird Tourism, we believe that every honeymoon should be as unique as the couple embarking on it. That's why our packages are highly customizable. Whether you dream of a cozy stay in a lakeside lodge, an adventurous trek through the lush forests of Fiordland, or a luxurious escape in the bustling city of Auckland, we tailor our offerings to match your desires. Our team of experienced travel experts is dedicated to crafting a honeymoon that reflects your personal tastes and preferences.

Our all-inclusive packages take care of every detail, allowing you to focus on creating memories with your loved one. From flights and accommodations to guided tours and exclusive experiences, we handle everything. Enjoy a stress-free planning process with our comprehensive services, including 24/7 customer support to assist you throughout your journey.

Discover the magic of New Zealand with Flybird Tourism and let us help you create the honeymoon of your dreams. Book your New Zealand Honeymoon Package today and start your life together in one of the most beautiful and enchanting destinations on earth. With Flybird Tourism, your romantic adventure awaits.

[lalupahandbags]

The Kiwi Craze for Bags: A Glimpse into New Zealand's Bag Culture

Introduction

New Zealand, often referred to as the Land of the Long White Cloud, is known for its stunning landscapes, unique wildlife, and vibrant culture. However, one aspect of Kiwi life that often goes unnoticed is the nation's love affair with bags. From the iconic jute shopping bags to the traditional Māori kete, bags in New Zealand hold a special place in the hearts of its people. In this blog, we'll delve into the fascinating world of bags in NZ and explore their significance in this beautiful country.

Jute Shopping Bags: The Kiwi Icon

One of the most recognizable symbols of New Zealand's bag culture is the humble jute shopping bag. These eco-friendly bags have become synonymous with grocery shopping in the country. Supermarkets across NZ offer jute bags as a sustainable alternative to plastic bags, and many Kiwis can be seen carrying them while doing their weekly shopping.

The popularity of jute bags in New Zealand is a testament to the nation's commitment to environmental sustainability. These bags are not only durable and reusable but also biodegradable, making them an excellent choice for eco-conscious shoppers.

The Māori Kete: A Cultural Treasure

While jute bags may dominate the modern shopping scene, the traditional Māori kete holds immense cultural significance in New Zealand. The Māori people, the indigenous population of Aotearoa (New Zealand), have been creating and using kete for centuries.

Kete are woven baskets or bags made from flax leaves, and they come in various sizes and shapes. They are used for a wide range of purposes, including carrying food, tools, and personal belongings. Each kete is a work of art, often featuring intricate weaving patterns and designs that reflect the Māori culture and heritage.

These beautiful bags are more than just functional items; they are a symbol of Māori identity and craftsmanship. Many contemporary Māori artists continue to create kete, preserving this traditional art form and ensuring that it remains a vital part of New Zealand's cultural fabric.

Kiwi Fashion and Designer Bags

New Zealand has a burgeoning fashion industry, and Kiwi designers are making their mark on the global stage. Bags, as essential fashion accessories, play a significant role in this industry. Local designers create a wide range of bags, from stylish handbags to practical backpacks and everything in between.

Kiwi fashion is often influenced by the country's natural beauty, and you'll find many bags adorned with designs inspired by native flora and fauna. Additionally, New Zealand's commitment to sustainability is reflected in the materials used by these designers, with many opting for eco-friendly and locally sourced materials.

Outdoor Adventure Bags

New Zealand's breathtaking landscapes make it a haven for outdoor enthusiasts. Whether it's hiking in the Southern Alps, kayaking in the Marlborough Sounds, or cycling the Otago Rail Trail, Kiwis love their outdoor adventures. As a result, bags designed for outdoor activities are in high demand.

Specialized backpacks, dry bags, and hiking packs are popular among those who seek adventure in the great outdoors. These bags are designed to withstand the rugged terrain and unpredictable weather that New Zealand has to offer, making them essential companions for any outdoor excursion.

[cuddon]

Stay Cool this Summer: A Guide to Air Conditioning

Hey there, friends! With the scorching heat of summer right around the corner, it's time to start thinking about how to stay cool and comfortable. And what better way to beat the heat than with a reliable air conditioning system? In this comprehensive guide, we'll dive into the world of air conditioning Blenheim, exploring everything from how it works to the benefits it brings. So, grab a cold drink, sit back, and let's get started!

What is Air Conditioning?

Let's begin by understanding the concept of air conditioning. In simple terms, air conditioning is the process of controlling indoor temperature and humidity to create a comfortable living or working environment. It involves removing heat and moisture from the air to cool it down, creating a pleasant oasis amidst the summer heat.

Air conditioners work by utilizing the principles of refrigeration. They consist of various components, including a compressor, condenser, evaporator, and expansion valve. Together, these components work in harmony to cool down the air and circulate it throughout the space.

There are different types of air conditioning systems to suit various needs. The most common ones include central air conditioning, which cools an entire building using ducts and vents, window units that are installed in a window opening, and portable air conditioners that can be moved around from room to room.

Benefits of Air Conditioning:

Now that we understand what air conditioning is, let's explore the benefits it brings. Firstly, and most importantly, air conditioning Marlborough provides us with unmatched comfort during the hot summer months. It creates a cool and refreshing environment that allows us to relax, sleep better, and go about our daily activities without feeling drained by the heat.

In addition to comfort, air conditioning offers several health benefits. It helps to reduce indoor humidity, which can prevent the growth of mold and mildew, as well as lower the risk of respiratory issues such as allergies and asthma. By filtering the air, air conditioners remove dust, pollen, and other allergens, providing a cleaner and healthier indoor environment.

Moreover, air conditioning enhances productivity. Research has shown that people work more efficiently in comfortable temperatures. When the temperature is too high, it can lead to fatigue, lack of concentration, and decreased performance. By keeping the environment cool, air conditioning helps to create a conducive workspace, boosting productivity and overall satisfaction.

Visit this website - Best Air Conditioning

Choosing the Right Air Conditioner:

When it comes to selecting the right air conditioner, it's essential to consider various factors to ensure optimal performance and efficiency. Start by assessing the size of the space you want to cool. A unit that is too small will struggle to cool the room, while one that is too large will cycle on and off frequently, wasting energy.

Energy efficiency ratings, such as SEER (Seasonal Energy Efficiency Ratio), should also be taken into account. Higher ratings indicate better energy efficiency and lower operating costs. However, keep in mind that more energy-efficient models might come with a higher upfront cost.

Budget considerations are also important. Determine how much you are willing to spend on an air conditioner, factoring in both the initial purchase price and the long-term energy costs associated with its operation. Remember that investing in a high-quality and energy-efficient unit can save you money in the long run.

Additionally, consider additional features that can enhance convenience and energy efficiency. Programmable thermostats allow you to set specific temperature schedules, ensuring that the air conditioner operates efficiently when needed. Some air conditioners even come with smart technology integration, allowing you to control them remotely using your smartphone.

Proper Maintenance for Optimal Performance:

To ensure the longevity and optimal performance of your air conditioner, regular maintenance is crucial. Start by cleaning or replacing the air filters regularly. Clogged filters restrict airflow, making the unit work harder and decreasing its efficiency. Check the manufacturer's guidelines on how often the filters should be cleaned or replaced.

Next, inspect the outdoor unit and remove any debris, such as leaves or branches, that might have accumulated around it. This will prevent airflow obstruction and increase the unit's efficiency. Additionally, check the coolant levels and schedule a professional inspection annually to catch any potential issues before they escalate.

Energy-Saving Tips:

While air conditioning provides much-needed relief from the heat, it's important to use it efficiently to conserve energy and reduce electricity bills. One way to achieve this is by using programmable thermostats. Set the temperature higher when you're away from home and lower it when you're about to return, ensuring that the air conditioner operates only when necessary.

Another energy-saving tip is to seal gaps around windows and doors to prevent cool air from escaping and warm air from entering. This can be done using weatherstripping or caulking. Additionally, utilize ceiling fans alongside your air conditioner. The fans create a wind-chill effect, allowing you to set the thermostat a few degrees higher without sacrificing comfort.

For those looking for eco-friendly alternatives, consider evaporative coolers, also known as swamp coolers. These devices use water evaporation to cool the air, consuming less energy than traditional air conditioners. Furthermore, take advantage of natural ventilation whenever possible by opening windows during cooler hours or using exhaust fans to remove hot air.

Troubleshooting Common Issues:

Even with regular maintenance, air conditioners can encounter issues from time to time. Some common problems include inadequate cooling, strange noises, or leaks. If you find that your air conditioner is not cooling the room effectively, check if the filters are clean and free from obstruction. Additionally, ensure that the thermostat is set to the desired temperature and that the windows and doors are properly sealed.

Strange noises can indicate various problems, such as loose components or a malfunctioning fan motor. If you hear any unusual sounds, it's best to turn off the unit and contact a professional for assistance. Similarly, if you notice leaks, it could be a sign of a refrigerant or drain line issue. Turning off the unit and seeking professional help is advised.

Conclusion:

And there you have it, friends - a comprehensive guide to air conditioning! We've covered everything from understanding what air conditioning is to the benefits it brings, choosing the right unit, proper maintenance, energy-saving tips, and troubleshooting common issues. As summer approaches, remember that air conditioning Blenheim is not just a luxury; it's an essential tool for staying cool, comfortable, and healthy during the sweltering heat.

We hope this guide has equipped you with the knowledge and tips needed to make the most of your air conditioning system. If you have any experiences or questions, we would love to hear from you in the comments section below. Stay cool, stay hydrated, and have an amazing summer!

Source - https://cuddon1.blogspot.com/2023/09/stay-cool-this-summer-guide-to-air.html

[orthognathics]

Straighten Your Teeth Discreetly with Invisalign Marlborough MA

If you're looking to straighten your teeth, you've probably heard of Invisalign. It's a clear alternative to traditional braces that has gained immense popularity over the years. Invisalign is a discreet and convenient option that can help you achieve a beautiful, straight smile without the discomfort and inconvenience of metal braces. In this article, we will discuss Invisalign Marlborough MA, and everything you need to know about this orthodontic treatment.

What is Invisalign? Invisalign is a series of clear, removable aligners that are custom-made for your teeth. These aligners are made of a special material that is smooth, comfortable, and nearly invisible. Unlike traditional braces, Invisalign aligners are removable, which means you can take them out when you eat, brush your teeth, or floss. You will receive a new set of aligners every two weeks, each designed to move your teeth a little closer to their desired position.

 How does Invisalign work? Invisalign works by applying gentle, consistent pressure to your teeth, gradually moving them into their correct positions. Each set of aligners is designed to shift your teeth a little bit at a time. You will wear each set of aligners for about two weeks before switching to the next set. The number of aligners you need will depend on the severity of your dental issues.

The Invisalign treatment process starts with a consultation with your dentist or orthodontist. They will examine your teeth, take x-rays, and create a 3D digital model of your teeth. This model will be used to create a custom treatment plan that maps out the exact movements your teeth need to make to achieve the desired results. Once your treatment plan is created, your dentist will send it to Invisalign, where a series of custom aligners will be made for you.

 What are the benefits of Invisalign? Invisalign offers several benefits over traditional braces. Some of these benefits include:

1. Discreet: Invisalign aligners are virtually invisible, which means you can straighten your teeth without anyone noticing.

2. Comfortable: Invisalign aligners are made of a smooth, comfortable material that won't irritate your mouth.

3. Removable: Invisalign aligners are removable, which means you can eat whatever you want and brush and floss normally.

4. Effective: Invisalign is an effective way to straighten your teeth and correct a wide range of dental issues, including overcrowding, gaps, and misaligned teeth.

5. Convenient: Invisalign requires fewer office visits than traditional braces, which means less time spent at the dentist or orthodontist.

Invisalign in Marlborough, MA If you're interested in Invisalign Marlborough, MA, there are several dentists and orthodontists who offer this treatment. It's essential to choose a provider who has experience with Invisalign and has a good reputation. During your consultation, your dentist or orthodontist will evaluate your teeth and determine if Invisalign is the right treatment for you.

Conclusion: Invisalign is an excellent option for anyone who wants to straighten their teeth without the inconvenience of traditional braces. It's discreet, comfortable, and effective. If you're considering Invisalign Marlborough, MA, make sure to choose a provider who is experienced with this treatment and has a good reputation. With the right provider, you can achieve a beautiful, straight smile in no time.

[rewasproperty]

Marlborough Sounds Property Development: Investing in a Coastal Lifestyle

Our staff of skilled architects, builders, and planners can assist you in Property development in Marlborough Sounds. Because of our extensive background working in the area, we will be able to offer you a variety of designs and customizations to meet your specific requirements and financial constraints. We have everything you need to realise your real estate development goals, whether they involve building a single-family house or a multi-million dollar mansion community. Find out how we can assist you in getting begun by contacting us immediately.

[bestjgudiellandscape]

Tips on Fence Installation Framingham from Licensed Contractors

Look no further if you are contemplating putting up a new fence installation Framingham or replacing the one you already have! In this article, we will give advice and suggestions from qualified professionals on everything you need to know about designing and carrying out a fence installation in the most effective way possible. We will ensure that when it comes time for you to install your new fence, there will be nothing in the way of you having the ideal backyard setup. This includes researching and understanding local zoning laws and determining what type of fencing will work best for your property. Let's start with some helpful pointers that our team of qualified experts has compiled from their years of expertise. ASK FOR A QUOTE FROM MULTIPLE CONTRACTORS It is only normal to want to compare prices and services while searching for a fence. This is only sometimes the ideal plan, however, and especially not if you want a sturdy wooden fence installed in Framingham. While it's smart to be flexible, remember that too many choices might make it harder to settle on the best one. Expert Framingham contractors should be ready to provide an exact estimate right away. When you get numerous bids from various service providers, you run the risk of receiving estimates that vary widely and fail to consider important details about your home. Perhaps one contractor has given you an estimate for a certain quantity and design because they have gleaned from your previous conversations that this is precisely what you have in mind. If you get many estimates, you may receive a more affordable one of a different style than you had envisioned. To avoid unpleasant surprises when it comes time to sign the contract, getting quotes from up to two contractors at a time is essential. HIRE A CONTRACTOR THAT OFFERS A WARRANTY ON FENCE INSTALLATION FRAMINGHAM The second aspect of the contractor's career that you need to investigate is their track record. Make it a point to inquire about the length of the warranties that cover their services. Should this be the case, the company's products and services are of the highest possible standard and will continue to perform admirably for many years. If they are just willing to provide a guarantee for a single year, it indicates that they need more confidence in the quality of their finished product. After the fence has been finished for only a few months, it may need maintenance. When you pick contractors that give fair warranties on their services, you can know that they will stand by their work and take care of any issues that may arise with your fence in the future. MAKE SURE THEY HAVE LIABILITY INSURANCE Framingham is a city in Massachusetts with a population of about 71,265, making it the 10th most populated state. Framingham is also a part of Metro West, which consists of Framingham, Wayland, Marlborough and Sudbury. Many other towns and cities surrounding Framingham are also contractors, so you're bound to find someone to work with if you prefer. The biggest tips you can get regarding Framingham fence installation are to make sure they have liability insurance and that they're licensed to work in Massachusetts. The first one is obvious: you don't want a contractor working on your home who isn't insured against damage or injury. The second one is important because not everyone in Massachusetts can qualify as a contractor. Even if they have experience installing fences, it might not be legal here. CHECK WITH THE BETTER BUSINESS BUREAU There are several fencing installation businesses in the Framingham region, but before you engage one, you should verify that they are properly licensed and insured. You may verify a business's legitimacy by contacting the BBB (BBB). Companies that maintain the highest levels of honesty and integrity in their dealings with customers and other stakeholders may earn the Better Business Bureau's seal of approval. You may find BBB-accredited contractors in the Framingham area by visiting and doing a search for "fence installation" along with the name of a local Framingham contractor. When you click on a company's name, you'll be able to check its overall rating as well as any customer complaints that have been lodged against it. Before hiring a firm to conduct work around your house, it's a good idea to see their reputation with the Better Business Bureau (BBB). Contact J.Gudiel Landscape Inc. at (508) 380-0048. We are dedicated to providing affordable, quality landscaping services to Framingham, MA; Wayland, MA; Lincoln, MA; Sudbury, MA and all surrounding towns. Our experienced landscapers are committed to delivering the best customer service in the industry. Please call us today to schedule an appointment!

[globalroofinginc]

Why Hire a Roofing Service Specialist?

 Roofing is a complex process and requires extensive training to master. Roofers generally acquire their skills through hands-on experience, which can be difficult or even dangerous if done incorrectly by an unsupervised, inexperienced person. Hiring an inexperienced roofer to do the job can lead to complex, time-consuming, and expensive problems to repair. You can keep your home safe by hiring a home team.   

When choosing a new roof, about 72% of homeowners said they would choose a roof that requires little or no maintenance. Whether you own a business or a home, it is generally accepted that roof maintenance depends on the type of roof you choose. 

•       validity period 

Whether hiring a professional roofer to install or repair your home's framing before an inspector arrives can be the difference between success and failure. Shrewsbury Roofing Service ensures everything is in place and handles potential problems early so they only reoccur later during the inspection.

 If you need roof repairs or want to hire someone, make sure they are trained, insured, and licensed. Hiring a roofing crew is the best way for commercial and residential properties to ensure that their projects are completed correctly and on time. While construction can be stressful for businesses and homeowners, don't worry; the experts will handle it all! 

·        security

When you hire a professional at Arc Roofing to repair or install your new roof, you can be sure. The main objective of these companies is to ensure that their customers are satisfied. The company also ensures that its resources are of the highest security quality. With a professional roofing company, your family and business are well protected. 

•       Provide a guarantee

Another advantage of using such companies is that they offer a guarantee. Shrewsbury Roofing guarantees the materials they operate and their workmanship. This ensures installation and repair even after the work is completed. If a problem arises within the mentioned period, the contractor will solve the problem at no extra cost. 

•       Financial

One of the biggest misconceptions about commercial roofs is that they are expensive. But the truth is that hiring a Marlborough Roofing Contractor can save you a lot of money. 

•       fixed by

Working for Marlborough Roofing ensures good supervision of other employees while doing their work. Watch to the end. The company monitors not only other workers but also mistakes when they happen and prevents them from happening again. 

• High-quality materials

A quality roof is an excellent investment to avoid spending a lot of money in the future. Roofing professionals use high-quality roofing materials that make your roof last longer. They know what type of material will work best for the kind of roof you have, and they offer high-quality materials at wholesale prices. Instead of using cheap materials sold at home improvement stores, you may benefit from using the services of these companies. 

Conclusion

Hiring Global Roofing Inc is much better than doing it yourself. These companies not only give you access to quality materials but also help you find and solve problems as they arise. Work with a licensed roofing company when you need roofing services.

[thatscarletflycatcher]

North and South, 2022, Episode 2 thoughts

So... overall, a step down from last episode, and a significant one.

There's still the same problems with the runtime not allowing the story to breath, most noticeable on this episode during the proposal scene, in which the speeches of the characters are cut awkwardly, or the conversations between Margaret and Mrs Hale and Margaret and Frederick. They chose to keep "ask Mr Lennox for his opinion on the mutiny case", but in such a reduced way that it is a mere comment Frederick makes to Margaret on the train station. At that point... why not cut it all off completely?

In continuity with the characterization of the first episode, Mr Hale is still a wise man and has the opportunity to offer wise speeches twice. We get his conversation with Mr Higgins here, but I think it loses much of its emotional impact by having it happen about two months after Bessy's death and after the end of the strike. We also get his delusional talking to a dead Mrs Hale, but in this case it's not seen as pitiful because Margaret means to do the same and Dixon enables her, so what gives.

Speaking of the strike, its chapters are probably the best prose and mood setting of the whole book, and it's something very difficult to recreate, but I feel this adaptation doesn't even try. It even cuts the tension by transitioning from the rioters heading towards Marlborough Mills, with Margaret paying her visit and... exchanging childhood anecdotes with Mr Thornton. I kid you not. There's also Margaret Making a PointTM of saying "perhaps that's why they should allow the women to make the decisions, they might employ some common sense" which is... okay, I get what they are trying to do there, but as is, it's saying that there's class struggle only because women aren't in charge (?) It's not well thought out at all.

In general, the important scenes all get their impact reduced one way or another. The proposal does begin with Thornton's thankfulness, but it's ruined by both John and Margaret being worried about her reputation I kid you not we get: MR THORNTON: {her] losing her dignity in my defense" MRS THORNTON: "You have no obligation towards that girl"... what even) something that doesn't happen in the novel and which consequently GOES NOWHERE in this series so why add it at all. We get the riot scene but the tension was destroyed by the desperate attempt at making John and Margaret have a cute conversation; we get Thornton talking to an unconscious Margaret, but as there is no Fanny there's no Margaret hearing her comments and getting mad about them. The fruit scene is there! But they have Thornton acknowledge Margaret's presence. We get Dixon to mention her affection for Mrs Hale! But we hear her say that she doesn't love her as much as Margaret does. Boulcher's death is completely undermined by the fact that in this adaptation he's a very vocal, self assured man, nothing in his tone and speeches shows despair, and then when his body is brought home we don't even get the moment where no one wants to go tell the widow and Margaret has to do it herself, it's just... done by someone in the background without a fuss.

There are two things in this episode that made me think even more that this adaptation should have had a narrator: one, that Margaret tells Dixon everything (the riot, Thornton's proposal) and then Mr Thornton being with Henderson as he sees Margaret and Frederick at the train station. It's just so awkward and changes things JUST because we cannot possibly have any narration and I'm here asking WHY??? The Henderson thing is particularly grating because not only does he comment on what he's seeing but the conversation begins with his saying he's requiring of his workers the swearing that they won't pay union fees, and Thornton doesn't make any contradicting observation, he says something like "I have always known you to be a strong man" or somesuch nonsense.

Another thing that was... contradictory in a way was Margaret misconceiving Thornton's character twice (once she tells Higgins "Thornton thinks discussion is a sign of weakness" and then she says that not prosecuting the rioters "doesn't sound like him") which is wrong not only because those aren't things Margaret is mistaken about in the novel (she's intelligent enough to know, as is shown, that Thornton will engage people, her, her father, in discussion freely, and then is not at all surprised that he's not prosecuting the rioters) but because the adaptation itself went the lengths of adding two amicable, personal conversations between the two before that! This Margaret has MORE personal interactions with Thornton and yet knows him LESS. I'm also disappointed in the fact that the series is omitting aspects of Thornton's thought that the novel considers are at least somewhat legitimate (i.e. his claim that he has no right to meddle with his workers' life outside of work or how they spend their money) AND adding things like the compliment to Henderson and the child work line.

Another dumb bit of nonsense is that they don't send "Helen" (there's no Mary in this adaptation) away during Frederick's visit, she's even the one to answer the door and get him inside! So it's particularly stupid when 5 minutes later Margaret tells him "Frederick, close the door, we must be careful". Seriously. There's also his saying "if I could find a way to stay..." instead of asking Margaret and Mr Hale to join him on Cadiz (I suppose this is again about propping up Mr Hale --I swear I don't get why the script writer for this series is so dead set on this-- because his refusal to go in the novel, based on his "I brought my wife here and it killed her so now I have to stay here to punish myself and bury Margaret in that grave with me as well because my grief and self loathing is more important than her future" were obviously a bad look.

This is all the "bad stuff" in the episode. The rest is all right, competently done, the voice work is good (the doctor sounds awfully young, but I don't mind) but overall it doesn't compensate at all. Right now I'm not sure this is better than 1997. I think I will listen to that one once episode 3 of this one airs, and then I will be able to tell for certain.

Right now the one thing I'm looking forward to is how they manage the last part of the novel and the ending in particular, see if they will resist the train station ending, if they will change the book scene much, how much of post Milton Margaret we'll get, etc.

[margaretmulgrave]

Tuesday, August 19th, 1800

Mulgrave House

Margaret loved Tuesdays for their lack of fanfare. She could truly do as she pleased with little expectation from anyone.

That particular late morning as she rose and dressed for the rest of the day, hair loose save for a few pins to keep the unruliest curls back. There was no use calling Beth in, the few servants at the apartment in London were still scurrying to get wardrobes and items packaged for return to Blenheim or Nuneham respectively.

She didn’t notice the new stack of correspondence on her vanity that the ladies maid brought in at an earlier hour, the only thing on Margaret’s mind was a nice strong cup of tea. She smiled faintly in a feeling of contentment as she practically glided from her room to the hall, and began to descend the stairs. There was a faint murmur of voices through the closed drawing room doors and Margaret wondered what Aunt Helena was up to.

“…your Grace.”

Margaret halted, taken by surprise in overhearing the formal title. Not directed at her though, muffled back in the drawing-room. Who was calling? Why had no one woken her? She descended the last few steps, turning into Beth as the girl exited the concealed room with an empty tea tray.

Margaret grabbed the sleeve of her dress, pulling her a few feet away, motioning for her to keep quiet and miming the question of just who was being served in the sitting room?

Beth's eyes were wide as she glanced between the lady and the ornate wood door. “The Duke and Duchess of Marlborough, miss. They arrived a few hours ago while you were still sleeping. I went to wake you with the mail but his Grace insisted to let you be.”

Bless Papa. Margaret exhaled, building anxiety already starting to ebb. Her parents had to arrive at some time, of course. It was her father’s way to try and make it a surprise. Her mother saying nothing.

“Thank you, Beth.” Margaret offered, before bracing herself and pulling the sitting-room door open to expose her parents and Aunt Helena perched on adequate seating with freshly served tea and cakes.

“Papa,” Margaret smiled, making a conscious effort not to rush into the room, “It is polite to write you know.”

Maxwell laughed heartily and set his teacup down as he stood from the lounge. “Not surprised to see me then?” He pat his pockets, looking for a cigarette that was no longer there and quickly gave up, waving Margaret forward instead. “Look at you! London has done you well, yes?”

“Eventful.” Margaret answered, “But I am ready to return home.” She stood with her father for another moment before finding space next to Aunt Helena across from the other pair. Margaret began to fill her own cup, “You should have woken me.”

“No, no,” The Duke scoffed, “There is still plenty of time. Everything in order then for the wedding? No last-minute errands to attend to?”

“I’ve…taken care of everything. You will behave won’t you, Papa?”

“What?” He chuckled again, glancing over at his wife with an amused gaze, “Have I lost my temper already.”

Margaret pursed her lips, “You know what I mean. Lord Harcourt is nervous enough.”

“Like I give a damn about Harcourt.”

“Maxwell.” A cool, gentle scold from her mother. Margaret blinked at her, at both of them, really. It was so easy to ignore the fact that they hadn’t all been in the same room together for over a year. That Margaret had missed bits and pieces of them, of home. She had been so angry with them, and the longer she didn’t see them it manifested into a longing and now…nothing.

They hadn’t looked at her in over a year. Letters and directives sufficed to get her to London, and now all was well because she’d completed the Season successfully. They were getting just what they wanted. Margaret swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat with more tea, letting the quietness stretch until it snapped.

“What is this business of you not having a bridesmaid, Margaret?” Amelia’s voice was like ice still, and Margaret could only cling to her teacup for a buffer. “It is very unorthodox. Not to mention all the pressure…surely there is some lady –“

“I have managed quite well.” Margaret interrupted, before adding in a mutter, “Lady Mother, with Aunt Helena’s assistance. There is no lady available or in appropriate condition to attend to me. I had hoped…my cousin –“

Amelia scoffed suddenly, “Frances. That girl. You are too sentimental, Margaret. Given the circumstances, you are better off standing alone. I will assist with any dressing the day of, in that case.”

She was shocked by the offer of involvement, and then upset, looking at Aunt Helena with a deep frown. But the elderly woman shook her head in silent dismissal. Let it go, Meggie. All she could do was turn her gaze back to the dregs of her tea, “Of course, mother.”

“What happened with Miss. Fitzroy?” Her father piped up - roused back into the conversation.

“I told you, Maxwell. I showed you the paper, Saoirse’s letter. That girl…”

Margaret couldn’t help but slump in her seat. Dejected, bothered, upset. This Tuesday was not like the others.

[rhonddaandallaneuro]

Back on the road

Stayed an extra day in Aramac, eventually leaving on Monday. The roads were a lot better than when we came here but wanted to be safe, also to do some house (car) cleaning.

On the return drive to Muttaburra we had picked up a lot of mud and took up the offer to wash it off at the local truck wash. This we did twice but it was still thick and it will be weeks before we get it all off the chassis. The mud was so thick the weight of the mud had ripped off our mud flap. It now hangs by a screw strategically placed by Allan, the mechanical genius he is.

Returning through Barcaldine we expected the traffic to have eased and were shocked to find to get a park in the town we had to park over a block away from the main street

We have altered our schedule due to how busy the roads are and moved through to a free camp in Sapphire just short of Emerald. A real blast from the past and sad that the Trading Post shop was shut. The local garage does coffee so life was good for the early morning walk. On this occasion the local cows had taken over the streets bringing traffic to a stand still.

Emerald is a huge city and offered us everything we wanted in setting up for our last month on the road. Banks, bottle shop, Maccas, chemist and Kentucky. It is amazing how your taste buds dictate at times. Haha

Tuesday evening we camped at a free camp just outside Clermont, which was great. This is a huge camp with road trains and caravans sharing. Free showers and toilets and great coffee ensured a peaceful day.

The drive from here saw us move over many many times for police escorted “over size load” trucks. Some were massive and at one stage we had to physically stop and pull over to make sure the truck and machinery could get past.

We drove through towns Moranbah, Nero and Elton, all great towns on our way to a country pub known as General Gordon, where the night costs $10 with the beer very cold and locals so friendly. While sitting in the bar watching television we saw that the State under 14 girls championship was on in Mackay so decided to stay and extra night and drive in.

Must mention that at the bar when talking to a local and another traveller it was discovered that both families had a son who played for Richmond in the late 90’s. Here deep in leagues territory the bar was full of tiger supporters. The channel was not changed to the main NRL game. Haha

Mackay stadium has grown and now has five courts. We got to watch all four of the Spartan teams play while catching up with the likes of Norma Connolly and many other blasts from the past. It was a great day but we were also glad to get back to the General Gordon where we positioned ourselves at the bar being served by Australia’s number one bar maid, Hayley. We have never seen someone manage the bar (crowded) like she did.

Perhaps we started a little to early but after a great meal, lots of very cold beer and the music started we elected to return to the van for an early night. Music went through to well past midnight with the pub having the largest camp fire we have ever seen. Two giant tree trunks still smouldering at days break.

On our drive south we took a detour into St Lawrence discovering a tidy little town sitting on the coast, where one imagines it is crab eaters paradise. Endless sandy land that will go under when the tide comes in with crab sandwiches the order of the day. Located a farm stay camp there that looked great but elected to stay with our daily game plan.

It was now Friday and we had been invited to a QBL1 game in Gladstone on Saturday night so we headed to the Marlborough Hotel to ensure a shorter drive on Saturday. Given we also wanted to stop in Rockhampton not sure we will get to Gladstone by Saturday.

The Marlborough Hotel has not changed at all and we will be eating there tonight on our Friday night pilgrimage.

[jade4813]

Like Moths to a Flame, Chapter 8

Fandom: North and South

Title: Like Moths to a Flame

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: John/Margaret

Synopsis: “I hope you realize that any foolish passion for you on my part is entirely over.“ Margaret decides to confront John about his unjust judgment of her character, but the two have always been drawn to each other, and things quickly get out of hand. In the aftermath, she agrees to marry him to satisfy propriety, but she cannot forget how ready he was to believe the worst of her. Can love survive without trust, or will the two find a way to work through the misunderstandings that have plagued their relationship from the start?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

As John put her back on her feet, Margaret told herself that she should release him from her grasp, but her hands seemed unwilling to comply. He seemed no more inclined to move away than she, his breath warm against her cheek as he gazed into her eyes. She longed for him but lacked the words to say as much. Nor did she quite know how to continue, her mother never having had the opportunity to guide her on such matters prior to her death.

Of course, she wasn’t totally ignorant of what was to happen. She had already given in to physical passion once – it was the entire reason she was now married, after all. But she wasn’t entirely certain how these matters were supposed to proceed as a matter of course. She assumed he would come to her tonight, but would he assume the same? Did he depend upon her to issue an oblique invitation?

Whether he felt as anxious and uncertain as she, or whether his thoughts were occupied on other matters, he asked, “Were you sorry to have to leave the dancing so soon?” With the millworkers expected to return to work in the morning, the celebrations had not gone as long into the evening as they had at Edith’s nuptials, but Margaret had been gratified that her new husband had stood up with her for more than one number. His dancing had perhaps lacked a certain amount of polish, marked by the occasional slight hesitation that suggested he was out of practice – but he had acquitted himself well enough for her mind.

“I’m not much for dancing,” she confessed. She enjoyed the occupation upon occasion, but she wouldn’t go so far as to call herself accomplished at the activity.

“I thought Southerners liked nothing better than to spend their days in idleness and their evenings in dancing,” he teased.

“For shame, Mr Thornton!” she cried in mock indignation, her tone too light to either cause or fear offense. “It hasn’t even been a day, and you’re already marking your new bride’s failings? It’s not the way of a gentleman, you know.”

His hands began to stroke the length of her back, his touch releasing tension in muscles she hadn’t realized she had tensed. His voice caressed her, encouraging her to melt in his embrace, as he replied softly, “I may not be a gentleman, but if you have any failings, I can’t see them. Forgive me?”

Although she was distracted by his touch, there was one matter that had preyed upon her mind throughout the day. Pulling away slightly, she looked up at him in concern. “You’re forgiven, provided you’ll forgive me in return for the day’s distractions. You’ve been working so hard at the mill—”

“A day’s loss won’t make much of a difference,” he reassured her.

They had been standing in the entryway, lost in each other’s eyes for far too long, even for newlyweds. Particularly since theirs was not a love match. The servants would talk – Margaret was well aware of the predilection for gossip in Milton – and her behavior would only reinforce their conviction that she had long conspired to trap the most eligible Master of Marlborough Mills into marriage. “It’s been a long day. Is there somewhere I could freshen up?”

John looked at her in consternation. “Yes, of course. I’ll show you to your room. I wasn’t sure if you’d prefer to – well, I didn’t want to assume.” Taking her hand, he escorted her upstairs. Halting outside a closed door, he displayed a slight degree of uncharacteristic sheepishness as he explained, “Jane set up your room earlier today. I hope it’s to your liking.”

Striving to hide her surprise, she pushed open the door and peered in at the furnishings, though she didn’t enter. “It’s lovely,” she acknowledged. Was there a genteel way to inquire as to the location of his room? It wasn’t a question she’d ever had to consider before.

As she pondered her predicament, she felt herself drawn to him and stepped back into his embrace. Their mouths met, and Margaret closed her eyes. Her heart started to race, as she wondered once again if she was expected to invite him to join her in her bed that evening, and if he would think less of her for being so forward if she did. Then again, she had been unthinkably forward in her father’s house, and he had still married her, so perhaps he didn’t find her unseemly for her boldness.

“And your room?” she asked, striving to hide her embarrassment at the implication.

“Next door.” He hesitated. Surely in time, they would grow more comfortable with each other, and these encounters would lose this initial awkwardness.

He was offering her an opportunity for her own private sanctuary, and she appreciated his thoughtfulness and care. She was even tempted to accept his offer, though she feared that impulse did her little credit. She was a bride, now. His bride. A lifetime of sermons had instilled within her an awareness of her wifely duty, even if it had failed to address some of the more pertinent logistics. But it was the longing in her own body and heart rather than any spiritual, legal, or moral decree that compelled her to move past him and enter his room.

She was unsurprised to note that it was a very masculine bedchamber, the furnishings large and imposing, but it was not without its charm. Clutching her hands before her, she made a show of gazing about her with an appreciative smile. “It’s perfect. Just needs a woman’s touch. I can have my things moved in tomorrow.” Then, afraid she might have overstepped, she added with a bashful smile, “Unless…do you mind? If you’d prefer your privacy—”

She was afraid of seeming too forward, but they were married now. Was it even possible to be too forward with one’s husband? Alternatively, was his decision to set them up in separate rooms due as much to his own inclination as his assumption of her preference?

He shook his head, brushing the back of his fingers along the curve of her cheek. “You’re my wife, Margaret. Everything I have is yours. Everything I am is yours.”

She had intended to return to the room he’d prepared for her, to ready herself for her first night as his wife. But when she felt the first brush of his lips upon hers, her resolve to leave him fled, and she melted into his arms. Lifting her in his arms, he carried her to a nearby chair, pulling her into his lap. His kisses were slow and unhurried, and he caressed her back, soothing her with his touch.

It seemed to John that holding Margaret had to be the closest he would ever come to touching Heaven. How long had it been since she had left that first, indelible imprint upon his heart? He could swear it beat now only for her – a fanciful thought, but wasn’t a man entitled to a bit of whimsy on his wedding day?

He longed to carry her into his bed, to do as he should have done that day in her father’s sitting room. To linger where he had once hurried, to request what he had once demanded and she had freely given in return. But when he kissed her, he could taste her fear, her anxiety, and that wasn’t what he wished for her on their first night as man and wife – or any evening after.

But if John was anything, it was patient, and if there was anything that was worth waiting for throughout his entire existence, it was this. He kissed her until she became liquid in his arms, her breaths warm and ragged in his ear. Then he lifted one hand, stroking her through her gown.

She stiffened at this contact, but he kept his touch soft, undemanding, until she relaxed into him once more. Only then did he pull away, resting his forehead upon hers. “Are you afraid?” he whispered softly.

 “Not anymore,” she responded in kind.

Though he shook with the urge to touch her, he helped her to her feet. Then he rose and reached for her, helping remove her dress and corset with much more care and a good deal less grace than he usually employed. She laughed when he attempted to assist her in letting down her hair, their hands tangling as they sought out errant pins until her hair cascaded down her back. Her sigh of pleasure became a soft moan when he ran his fingers through it, marveling at its texture, and laughed again – this time, with nervous shyness – when he placed her on the bed to assist with the removal of her stockings. As willing and pliable as she’d been, however, she balked when he reached for her chemise.

He was moving too fast, and he drew back, ready to wait until she was ready for him, but she reached for his hand, pulling her back to her. “May I see you?”

He was more than willing to comply, quickly shedding his clothes until he was stripped to the waist. Upon consideration, he left his trousers untouched. Although his bride seemed eager, he reminded himself that she had been an innocent, before he had touched her. It wouldn’t do to scare her now.

Returning to the bed, he stretched out beside her, forcing himself to remain still as she reached for him. Her touch was cautious, exploratory, but she couldn’t have more effectively teased him if doing so had been her intent. He closed his eyes and willed himself to relax, to regulate his breathing, as her hands swept along his chest. She seemed entranced by the play of muscle and bone, her fingertips tracing the lines of his ribcage and muscles of his stomach, which quivered under her caress.

When he opened his eyes once more, he was gratified to see his own desire reflected in her face, and this time, she didn’t pull away when he reached for her. Lifting her into his lap, he was drawn to her warmth, bowing his head to moisten her breast through the thin fabric of her chemise. She shuddered in his arms, and he swept his hands beneath the hem of the flimsy undergarment, stroking her soft thighs.

His own breathing was ragged as he grabbed the bottom of her chemise, but he waited until she met his eyes and nodded slightly, a silent acquiescence to his unspoken request. In one smooth motion, he lifted the garment over her head and tossed it aside, leaning her back until she lay upon the pillows. Then, resting his weight on one arm, he drew back to look at her.

Margaret, so bold in her passion, grew shy under the weight of his regard. A blush stained her chest, rising up her neck to color her cheeks, and she pulled her arms across her breasts to hide herself from his view.

“It’s all right,” he reassured her, placing one hand over hers. He waited until she relaxed once more beneath him to slowly draw her hand aside. This time, she allowed him to reveal her body without protest, though he could still see her uncertainty in her eyes. Resting one hand upon her stomach, he trailed his fingertips slowly along her smooth skin, marveling at its softness. A faint cluster of freckles dotted the skin between her breasts, and he found himself both entranced and enchanted by this unexpected slight imperfection.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed in rapt wonder, wincing at the sound of his own voice as it broke the silence that had fallen between them. Everything about him was harsher and harder than she, including the edges of his thick Northern accent. By rights, he should never have been allowed to touch, let alone tarnish, someone as lovely as she, and he blessed whatever fortuitous star had shone upon him, to bring her into his life. “I’ve never seen such beauty.”

“John,” she whispered in return, her voice sweeping along her skin and twisting something beneath his breast. It hadn’t been lost upon him that she’d largely avoided calling him by his given name since their reckless coupling in her father’s house. Even earlier in the evening, when she had gently teased him, she had referred to him as ‘Mr Thornton.’ He hadn’t protested, fully understanding that she would require time to grow used to their (and undoubtedly unwanted, on her part) altered circumstances.

He treasured the sound of his name upon her lips and committed each instance to memory, well aware that she had only spoken it thrice since that fateful day – once, in response to his proposal; once, when she had requested a boon of him as a wedding present; and once, when she had pledged herself to him ‘til death they do part.

Even his well-honed capacity for self-denial had its breaking point, and he didn’t know how much longer it would last. Rising off the bed, he extinguished the lamps before quickly removing the remainder of his clothing. John was a proud man – and he believed he had every right to be – so it wasn’t shame that prompted him to undress in the dark. Rather, it was in consideration for his new wife’s feelings. She’d felt shy in her own nakedness; he didn’t wish to overwhelm her by a confrontation with his own.

Stripped bare, John climbed back into bed, pulling Margaret with him under the blankets, and he began to caress her body with greater intent and purpose. Lovemaking was an act which seemed more accommodating to a man’s desires, but he was determined to deny her no pleasure it was in his capacity to give. With his hands and his mouth, he explored her body, reveling in every sigh, every gasp, every moan until she was quivering in his arms.

With her back pressed against him, he thrust two fingers inside her, pressing his palm against her as he simulated with his hand what he longed to do with his body. She cried out, her head falling back against his shoulder, and his body responded, his hips bucking fruitlessly toward hers, but he didn’t give in to his own need until he felt her grow rigid in his arms, the cords in her neck stiffening as she became undone in his arms. Only then did he allow himself to move over her, bracing his weight on his arms as he knelt between her legs and entered her with an exultant cry of his own.

John wasn’t a “proper gentleman” like the men Margaret would have known in London, or even in her beloved Helstone. In truth, he had never wished to be such a man, but for her. He’d always believed a man’s worth lay in his actions, in his honor and his industry, rather than in the size of his purse. He knew the value of hard work and appreciated the satisfaction that came from a job well done. A life of idleness would suit him ill.

But he knew Margaret had always longed to marry such a gentleman. Moreover, a man such as that was what she deserved, sweet and gentle lady that she was. Had circumstance not forced her hand, she never would have chosen a man such as he, and though it was not in his inclination, he would try to be a proper gentleman for her.

How would a such a gentleman act, in an occasion such as this? He would treat her with courtesy and care. Gritting his teeth, John closed his eyes and tried to be so with her, his thrusts soft, slow, and gentle, but Margaret was both impatient and a quick study, and she had learned from their previous experience together. When he would have treated her with cautious gentility, she responded with imprudence, wrapping her legs around his hips and drawing him into her.

It was an unlikely reversal of roles. When John thought he should ask, she demanded. When he would have attempted to exercise care, she threw caution to the wind. The threads of his self-control frayed and he succumbed to his passion for her, thrusting into her hard and deep until he felt his own release wash over him. Then, for fear of how they would betray him and his innermost feelings, he pressed his lips upon hers and allowed her kiss to forestall the ill-conceived confession of love that struggled to break free.

Later, as Margaret slept beside him, her body curled into his and her head resting upon his chest, he ran his fingers through the silken strands of hair that tickled his cheek with every breath. Though his body was sated, his mind was ill-at-ease, fixated upon a conundrum at the expense of his rest.

Although he had fully enjoyed their lovemaking, he could no longer ignore the signs of her innocence and unfamiliarity with the act. Her modesty and inexperience felt too genuine to have been feigned, and while he treasured their first kisses, he could vividly recall her initial awkwardness that spoke of a lack of practice. But how could that be, if Margaret had enjoyed the attentions of another lover? She’d sworn her innocence and his misunderstanding of the embrace she’d exchanged with the stranger on the train platform. Had she been telling the truth?

He also had to acknowledge an inability to reconcile the conflict within his own mind regarding his perception of her. In his jealousy and heartbreak, he’d believed her to be capable of bestowing her charms upon another, but his heart and mind were almost cruel in their conviction that he could never aspire to deserve a woman such as her, that she was too far above the likes of him. So which was it? The lightskirt or the lady? The wanton or the innocent?

Everything within him (save, perhaps, for his wounded pride) believed her incapable of the charges he’d once laid upon her doorstep. He wouldn’t have loved her before – he wouldn’t love her still – if he truly believed in her disreputability and shame. With his life’s breath, he would vow that she’d do nothing to dishonor him or their marriage. How could he hold so deep a conviction if he truly had no faith in her or her character?

And yet he couldn’t pretend that his accusations had been without either cause or merit. He’d seen her on that train platform, embracing another man. She’d sworn the embrace was innocent, but how could it be? He wasn’t her father, who might be entitled to claim such evidence of attachment, and she had no brother – at least, none that either she or her father had ever claimed. Why would they keep such a man secret if he were to exist? It didn’t make sense that they would do so, but that left the question of who could he have been, that such an embrace could have been apparent and yet blameless?

Furthermore, if she was innocent of the implication of such improper conduct, why wouldn’t she confess the truth of the situation to clear her reputation of any untoward and unjust accusation? And why in heaven’s name had she agreed to marry him? He might be willing to fool himself into believing that her passion for him had been too great to ignore, but not even for the sake of his own broken heart could he ever deceive himself that she had developed a genuine attachment for him.

“I do not love you. I never have. I never will.” No, there was no attachment there, not on her part, at any rate. Not even in his most desperate and fanciful imaginings could he delude himself into believing her feelings for him had changed over the course of their engagement.

Had she married him in the hopes he could provide for her a secure future? If so, he could hardly blame her for it, though the situation at the mill was too precarious for him to have unwavering confidence in his ability to do so at present. He had warned her as much, and while it was true that she’d kindly rejected his offer to cry off the engagement, she didn’t have to care for him to have faith in his business acumen. She might have been willing to gamble her future on the belief that they wouldn’t suffer under financial constraints for long. Perhaps she’d decided he was worth the risk, particularly given the comparative dearth of other suitable prospects in Milton.

That she’d married him to secure her future was the only possible conclusion his mind could reach, and yet it rested poorly in his heart. And so, while Margaret slumbered in contented peace, John wrestled with the confusion and doubt that continued to plague him until the faint light of dawn spilled through his bedroom window and he finally, mercifully, followed her into a dreamless sleep.

[alaspoorwallace]

YEAR OF THE DEPEND ADULT UNDERGARMENT

[...] [DFW, Infinite Jest, 2b]

To ensure the composure with which he sat waiting in light in his chair he focused his senses on his surroundings. No part of the insect he'd seen was now visible. The clicks of his portable clock were really composed of three smaller clicks, signifying he supposed preparation, movement, and readjustment. He began to grow disgusted with himself for waiting so anxiously for the promised arrival of something that had stopped being fun anyway. He didn't even know why he liked it anymore. It made his mouth dry and his eyes dry and red and his face sag, and he hated it when his face sagged, it was as if all the integrity of all the muscles in his face was eroded by marijuana, and he got terribly self-conscious about the fact that his face was sagging, and had long ago forbidden himself to smoke dope around anyone else. He didn't even know what its draw was anymore. He couldn't even be around anyone else if he'd smoked marijuana that same day, it made him so self-conscious. And the dope often gave him a painful case of pleurisy if he smoked it for more than two straight days of heavy continuous smoking in front of the Inter-Lace viewer in his bedroom. It made his thoughts jut out crazily in jagged directions and made him stare raptly like an unbright child at entertainment cartridges — when he laid in film cartridges for a vacation with marijuana, he favored cartridges in which a lot of things blew up and crashed into each other, which he was sure an unpleasant-fact specialist like Randi would point out had implications that were not good. He pulled his necktie down smooth while he gathered his intellect, will, self-knowledge, and conviction and determined that when this latest woman came as she surely would this would simply be his very last marijuana debauch. He'd simply smoke so much so fast that it would be so unpleasant and the memory of it so repulsive that once he'd consumed it and gotten it out of his home and his life as quickly as possible he would never want to do it again. He would make it his business to create a really bad set of debauched associations with the stuff in his memory. The dope scared him. It made him afraid. It wasn't that he was afraid of the dope, it was that smoking it made him afraid of everything else. It had long since stopped being a release or relief or fun. This last time, he would smoke the whole 200 grams—120 grams cleaned, destemmed — in four days, over an ounce a day, all in tight heavy economical one-hitters off a quality virgin bong, an incredible, insane amount per day, he'd make it a mission, treating it like a penance and behavior-modification regimen all at once, he'd smoke his way through thirty high-grade grams a day, starting the moment he woke up and used ice water to detach his tongue from the roof of his mouth and took an antacid — averaging out to 200 or 300 heavy bong-hits per day, an insane and deliberately unpleasant amount, and he'd make it a mission to smoke it continuously, even though if the marijuana was as good as the woman claimed he'd do five hits and then not want to take the trouble to load and one-hit any more for at least an hour. But he would force himself to do it anyway. He would smoke it all even if he didn't want it. Even if it started to make him dizzy and ill. He would use discipline and persistence and will and make the whole experience so unpleasant, so debased and debauched and unpleasant, that his behavior would be henceforward modified, he'd never even want to do it again because the memory of the insane four days to come would be so firmly, terribly emblazoned in his memory. He'd cure himself by excess. He predicted that the woman, when she came, might want to smoke some of the 200 grams with him, hang out, hole up, listen to some of his impressive collection of Tito Puente recordings, and probably have intercourse. He had never once had actual intercourse on marijuana. Frankly, the idea repelled him. Two dry mouths bumping at each other, trying to kiss, his selfconscious thoughts twisting around on themselves like a snake on a stick while he bucked and snorted dryly above her, his swollen eyes red and his face sagging so that its slack folds maybe touched, limply, the folds of her own loose sagging face is it sloshed back and forth on his pillow, its mouth working dryly. The thought was repellent. He decided he'd have her toss him what she'd promised to bring, and then would from a distance toss back to her the $1250 U.S. in large bills and tell her not to let the door hit her on the butt on the way out. He'd say ass instead of butt. He'd be so rude and unpleasant to her that the memory of his lack of basic decency and of her tight offended face would be a further disincentive ever, in the future, to risk calling her and repeating the course of action he had now committed himself to.

He had never been so anxious for the arrival of a woman he did not want to see. He remembered clearly the last woman he'd involved in his trying just one more vacation with dope and drawn blinds. The last woman had been something called an appropriation artist, which seemed to mean that she copied and embellished other art and then sold it through a prestigious Marlborough Street gallery. She had an artistic manifesto that involved radical feminist themes. He'd let her give him one of her smaller paintings, which covered half the wall over his bed and was of a famous film actress whose name he always had a hard time recalling and a less famous film actor, the two of them entwined in a scene from a well-known old film, a romantic scene, an embrace, copied from a film history textbook and much enlarged and made stilted, and with obscenities scrawled all over it in bright red letters. The last woman had been sexy but not pretty, as the woman he now didn't want to see but was waiting anxiously for was pretty in a faded withered Cambridge way that made her seem pretty but not sexy. The appropriation artist had been led to believe that he was a former speed addict, intravenous addiction to methamphetamine hydrochloride [1] is what he remembered telling that one, he had even described the awful taste of hydro-chloride in the addict's mouth immediately after injection, he had researched the subject carefully. She had been further led to believe that marijuana kept him from using the drug with which he really had a problem, and so that if he seemed anxious to get some once she'd offered to get him some it was only because he was heroically holding out against much darker deeper more addictive urges and he needed her to help him. He couldn't quite remember when or how she'd been given all these impressions. He had not sat down and outright bold-faced lied to her, it had been more of an impression he'd conveyed and nurtured and allowed to gather its own life and force.

[...] [DFW, Infinite Jest, 2c]

[pofcroyalfanfiction]

Chapter Three - Intrusion

After being led inside and walked through the lengthy process of signing dozens of forms, collecting their room keys and having their student I.Ds renewed, Miss Hunt gave them a thorough tour of the whole house. The Housemistress was treating the day as a fully planned out royal engagement, neglecting the fact that Will and Kate were both well used to the layout of Ivy House by now, or at least as much as they needed to be considering they weren’t the ones who would be living there for the year.

It was still a comforting feeling seeing where her daughters would be eating each night, where they would be doing their homework and where they would be hanging out with their friends. Having a clear idea of what the common room looked like would help when she was missing her two eldest girls, with its plush chairs and bean bags, whiteboards where the day's events were organised, a large TV at the center of everything, pictures of all the girls of the house and their achievements covering the walls. It was one of the smaller houses at Marlborough and therefore one of the cosiest, offering a lovely home away from home for Ellie and Alex.

Kate hardly listened to Miss Hunt as she spoke. She was more focused on watching Ellie repeatedly leaving the group and introducing herself to the girls running the various club sign up stations that had been set up around the common room, and writing her name down on more registers than Kate could count. The girls on the other side of the tables all seemed shocked and excited to be speaking with Ellie, but this didn't seem to faze her daughter at all, it was clearly helping. All the energy of the first day back, as well as the raging, chaotic atmosphere of an all-girls boarding house was quite something to be a part of. Kate wasn't in Royal mode, she was even struggling to stay in Mum mode and starting to wish it was her going back to school instead.

"Would Miss Hunt notice if I threw on a Marlborough skirt and boarded with Ellie?" she whispered to Will, who smirked and seemed quietly excited about the idea.

In the end the tour proved useful, showing that despite the layout of Ivy being roughly the same as the year before, more rooms had been squeezed in to increase its capacity. Ms Hunt told them that they could house an extra twenty girls this year but that they were still struggling to satisfy a high demand for places, continuing the trend that had started when Ellie first enrolled at the school.

"How about the girls rooms?" asked Will, wanting to move them along.

"We'd like to get them settled in quickly." Kate added, doing her best to avoid sounding rude.

"Of course, right this way." Ms Hunt led them upstairs to a long corridor lined with pastel yellow walls and polished wooden doors. It had the 'start of year' look with no signs of use or ownership, but some girls were already decorating their doors with posters and stickers.

Kate greeted some girls and parents as they passed each other and waved to a gaggle of younger girls who had gathered at the end of the corridor just to watch them.

Ellie stuck to the back of the group and happily greeted each girl she recognised, doing her best to avoid standing out as anything like royalty whilst still sticking close to her parents. Alex was more in her element, hugging old friends she hadn't seen in months and repeatedly falling behind and making them wait for her.

Alex has always been happy go lucky.

They were led to a more secluded corridor on the third floor where the larger, more exclusive rooms sat open and ready. Ellie and Alex were on the same floor but several doors down from each other, a way of satisfying both the school rules of separating different year groups in the House and Kate's insistence that her kids be close enough to look out for one another.

On the way they left Alex and Will to sort out her room, and met Anna with a few more protection officers who were weaving their way between other parents and students dragging their suitcases through the narrow corridors.

"Just a few more cases ma'am." Anna reassured her when Kate offered to take one of the suitcases herself.

"As you can see we've given Ellie one of our best rooms, lots of space and facing away from the main road so she won't have to worry about photographers." Miss Hunt told her, a little too loudly, as she followed her into Ellie's room.

"Wonderful." Kate said as she scanned the space her daughter would be living in for the next year. It had a massive queen size bed, a desk and vanity, two wardrobes and a window that faced out to the back garden area below. It would be just as comfortable as Ellie's bedroom back home, but the fact that it was big enough for two or even three girls to live in was something that Kate always regretted.

The palace demanded it, not you. Remember that.

"Anyway, I'm sure you have other parents waiting for you." Kate said, not wanting to draw too much attention. The special treatment wasn't going to do much for her daughter's standing within the house and she wanted to get rid of Miss Hunt before any more damage could be done.

"Are you sure? We're all free to help." Miss Hunt said kindly.

"That's all right, we don't want to be getting in anyone's way."

"All right, it was a pleasure to meet you ma- Kate."

Kate started unpacking some of Ellie's things and enjoying the chance for some peace and quiet away from all the chaos outside. Her girls were luckily roomed on one of the calmer floors with less bedrooms, but you could still hear the commotion of students moving in downstairs.

"Ellie, where do want this?" Kate asked, lifting up an old shoebox of mementos.

When nobody responded, she looked around and realised she was completely alone. "Ellie?"

Kate stepped back out into the corridor and discovered her eldest staring up at a noticeboard and flicking through more leaflets of clubs and societies to join. "Come along now."

Ellie moved her mouth but didn't speak, looking at her and then longingly back at the board. "Mum.."

Kate could sense the desperation, the restlessness, she could see that Ellie wanted nothing more than to get the whole royal entourage out of there so that she could get started on her new plans for the year.

"All right." Kate relented with a sigh, hiding her disappointment. "Go and greet your friends, I'll handle all this."

"Thanks Mum." Ellie rushed towards her and kissed her on the cheek before running off down the corridor.

"And make sure your sister is settled in!" Kate yelled after her as she disappeared around the corner just as Anna reappeared.

"She's in a hurry." Anna said sarcastically.

"Been itching to get away from us ever since she arrived." Kate said, affectionately rubbing the spot on her cheek which Ellie had kissed. "Does she seem distracted to you?"

"Probably just first day nerves, Ma'am."

"Probably." Kate paused, folding one of Ellie's jumpers and tucking it away in one of her drawers. "She hasn't told you anything has she?"

"Just that she's planning to try harder than she has the last three years. Never seen her so driven."

Anna's lack of worry was reassuring, especially since she had become such a close confidant of Ellie's ever since she had joined the staff. Ellie would tell her everything about her life, treating her like a big sister and in some ways a surrogate mother. The growing family and the growing workload had been hard on everyone, especially the girls. Having Anna around definitely helped, but this didn't stop Kate from feeling slightly jealous of her.

She politely excused herself, leaving Anna to continue with the unpacking while she stepped out into the corridor and listened to the sounds of other girls moving in nearby. She glanced at the walls, mostly blank and empty aside from a few things that had stayed up since the last year, pictures of the girls of the house taking part in sports day, charity drives and school plays. Alex was prominent in a few, having joined the junior girls football team in her first year and had a role in the Marlborough production of Oliver Twist.

Pippa gave her an old skirt for the part and Alex wore it for two whole weeks before Granny insisted she changed.

Kate eventually spotted, after quite a desperate search of the wall, a rare school photo of Ellie standing with a couple of other girls, holding up essays they had written for the 'English Language School Wide Writing Competition'. She barely got a chance to read the description before the creaking sound of a door opening behind her drew her attention. A woman was backing out of the room next to Ellie's and carrying a washing basket full of dirty looking clothes. Kate didn't recognise her as she turned around, but the wide eyed surprise she was certainly familiar with.

"Hello!" Kate said, throwing on her best smile and hoping to befriend a fellow school parent.

"Oh, hello!" the woman said excitedly, hurrying to put down the basket and hide it from Kate. She beckoned for someone else in the room to come out too, without taking her eyes off Kate.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Kate." She extended her hand out for the woman to shake.

"Lydia, and my daughter Alice." Lydia shook her hand firmly and ushered her daughter forward. She looked about Ellie's age, with very rosy cheeks and thick-rimmed glasses stuck in her bushy brown hair.

"Alice." Kate glowed. "Hi, how are you?"

"I'm all right, thanks." Alice said nervously, then discreetly tried to get a look at who her next door neighbour was going to be. Lydia stole back Kate's attention before she could answer.

"Stressful day isn't it?" Lydia asked.

"Definitely!" Kate relaxed a little more. "The girls hardly helped. Lucky we still got here on time."

"Alice only woke up an hour ago." Lydia told her, laughing while Alice's cheeks went even more red.

"Mum!" she complained. Alice still looked very neat and put together considering. Ellie and Alex probably would have turned up in their dressing gowns if she hadn't forced them into their uniforms herself.

"Do you have many friends here in Ivy, Alice?" Kate asked, thinking Ellie could do with a friendly next-door neighbour.

"A few, sure. But also some in New Court."

"I need to get this down to the laundry room." Lydia smiled at her and picked up the clothes basket. "Do you mind making sure Alice keeps unpacking?"  

"Of course, I'd love to." Kate smirked when Alice rolled her eyes.  

"New Court girls are pretty great." Kate said as Alice went back into her room. "But I'm biased, that was my old house."

"You went to New Court?" Alice asked, immediately sounding like she wanted to move there.

"Yep, not as nice as Ivy though." Kate said, trying to ensure she stayed put.

"Yeah, well I do prefer being a little further away. Ivy is nice and quiet." Alice told her.

"So what are the girls here like?" Kate asked, trying to get some good intel out of someone. Ellie definitely wasn't going to give her anything until she'd made some progress herself, and Alex was supposedly sworn to secrecy.

"Here in Ivy?" Alice asked back, looking around the corridor while Kate nodded encouragingly.

"They're okay I guess." Alice rubbed her neck and looked away awkwardly. "Some aren't as talkative. Some of the older girls are a bit snooty, that's why I have more friends in New Court."

Alice seemed to be being honest, but Kate was immediately worried that she might be referring directly to Ellie. Was her eldest coming across as snooty? Kate wouldn't believe it.

"Ellie is great though!" Alice seemed to easily pick up on why she was asking, and quickly jumped on Kate's spiralling thoughts. "Some of the girls can be a bit much but Ellie is very polite and considerate."

"That's nice to hear." Kate answered, feeling a little better. Alice's words still felt like those she'd hear from a teacher at a parent's evening, someone who didn't really know her daughter. It was just a polite way of saying that Ellie didn't talk to anyone.

"Are you two friends?"

"Well, not really. But I've talked to her a few times in class..."

Their attention was briefly distracted by a building noise of girls down the corridor and around the corner, where, from what Kate could gather from their eager whispers, people seemed to be rushing  to get a peek at William and the rest of the entourage who were making their way towards them. None of them seemed to notice Kate and Alice hiding in their own quiet offshoot of the main corridor, and Kate wanted to ask something before that changed.

"Alice, do you mind doing me a favour?" She followed the younger girl into her room, standing in the doorway to hide better and watching as Alice packed away clothes. "Could you keep an eye on her, try being her friend?"

Kate was desperate to not come across as too overprotective, or to make Ellie out to be too dependent on her, but it was hard not to. Ellie always had trouble making friends and Kate was finding herself feeling more anxious about that fact this year more than any other. She didn't want anything to get in the way of her daughter's new ambition, and considering how many sports kits she'd had to buy for her over the summer Ellie was going to need all the support she could get.

"Wha- Me?" Alice stared down at a pair of red socks she was holding, apparently forgetting what she was doing with them. "Sure! Mum also wants me to make some more friends."

Kate could feel a massive sense of relief. "Exactly, I can see where she's coming from."

She leaned back and looked down the corridor again just as several girls retreated out of the way of William, pretending they weren't just watching him like hawks moments ago. He got her attention with a look, both of them knowing that they should probably leave before they cause any more distractions.

"Thanks Alice, it was nice talking to you. Have a nice term." Kate said, in a bit of a rush as she backed out of the room to join the entourage that was sweeping her away.

"Thanks! I will" Alice followed her out, lingering in her doorway, awestruck, to watch them pass by.

Will carried in one of the last suitcases whilst the girls collapsed onto Ellie's bed as if they'd worked themselves to death already. Ellie had a particularly large collection of leaflets and booklets that she'd gathered and deposited on top of her pillow whilst Alex was focused intently on connecting to the Ivy House wi-fi.

"Are we all done then?" asked Kate, surveying the room. "Alex's room?"

"All done." Alex mumbled, sitting cross-legged on Ellie's bed as she entered the password on her phone. Will lightly slapped her knee so she'd move her dirty feet off the sheets, before sitting down next to her and wiping his brow.

"Make sure you're both unpacked by tomorrow. I don't want any phone calls next week complaining about creased clothes, understood?" Kate stared at both girls with her hands on her hips and barely got a response.

"We're supposed to be all settled in and out of the way before the next load of girls arrive." Ellie reminded them, looking around impatiently at the entourage of staff who had come to help and protect them.

"All right, why don't we have some lunch in town and then you'll be rid of us." Will pulled both the girls up from the bed and ushered them outside. Kate touched his arm and whispered in his ear. "Are they really that bored of us already?"

"We're not as cool as their school friends, poppet." He patted her on the bum as he passed by.

"Clearly." Kate whispered, looking around the room again and picturing the younger, youthful and well-liked Jenny Moon sitting on Ellie's bed and giving her advice throughout the year.

I can still be cool. You're not done with me yet, girls.

Being out in Marlborough town proper provided some much needed relaxation. Kate enjoyed the feeling of being back inside a girl's boarding house, but the tight corridors packed with other parents moving their children in had very quickly become exhausting. She made a note for next time to not bring such a large group, palace safety experts be damned. If it was her and William carrying things inside, nobody would really bother them and they'd fit in as normal parents, just once.

They found a small pub off the high street with a nice open beer garden and a juicy looking lunch menu. Together they gathered around a large table in the garden and dived into their meals, enjoying each other's company for what would likely be the last time, at least for a few months. Anna and the protection officers shared a table nearby, where they chatted and laughed over burgers and beers.

"Are we still going to be followed around by the officers?" Alex asked as she returned from getting a refill for her Coke. She nudged Ellie as she sat down, who was nose deep in a booklet about the Marlborough Gymnastics team.

"Yep, same as usual." Kate answered, ignoring the synchronised groans of her daughters. She feared this question coming up again. "They won't be allowed inside Ivy but they'll be nearby."

Will put down his burger and wiped his mouth, his face growing serious. "Your grandmother has requested that you have a female officer who can stay in house."

"What?" Alex put down her glass of Coke with a loud thud. Ellie closed her booklet much more emphatically than she needed to and just stared at both her parents.

"Why?" Ellie's voice stank of disdain.  "We're perfectly safe here, Dad. Mum, come on!"

"We don't need any more guards, the school does enough!" Alex added, pushing her chips aside like she'd suddenly lost her appetite.

Will gritted his teeth. Neither of them wanted this. "Still. We'd all like you to be safe."

"Safe from who?" The extra guards will just make us stand out more."  Ellie was clearly holding back the anger in her voice. They had never had to deal with much palace intrusion at school before this, and Kate could feel the resentment spewing over, particularly on the crumpling edges of the booklet that Ellie was holding.

"Your grandmother is stubborn about this, but just give the officer a chance, for us? She might end up being a good friend." Kate tried to reason with them, but she was also just as reluctant.

Camilla had always wanted the girls out of Marlborough. It was one of the most exclusive schools in Britain and yet she still felt Ellie and Alex were better off somewhere else. Kate always saw this as Camilla wanting to exert the control over her children that she never had with Charles' children, and now that she was at the head of the family it was that much harder to resist her.

This was their compromise, decided months ago. The girls had had no say in how it worked out, but at least Kate was able to pick the officer herself.

"So who is it? Please say it's not that stern, stone faced one with the greasy hair? The one grandma likes?" Alex asked, rather desperately.

"We thankfully avoided that outcome." Will tried to present it as good news but neither of the girls perked up. "It's someone new, recommended by Emma. You'll be comfortable with her."

"That's not so bad, I guess." Alex took a sip from her Coke and looked longingly over at the other table, likely hoping one of the male officers could turn into a woman.

"Ellie?" Kate patted her eldest's arm. "How does that sit with you?"

Ellie didn't meet her gaze and instead dragged a French fry lazily through a dollop of tomato sauce. "Just... don't let her get too in the way. I want to enjoy this year."

She was downcast, sulking. Kate could see the wheels turning in her head, the big plans she had that were suddenly falling through.

"We know Ellie. We want to make sure you both have the best time here possible." Kate tried to reassure her, but Ellie was already closing up, diverting her attention back to her half-crunched booklet and slowly nibbling her way through her lunch.

The mood was low and sluggish as they made their way back to Ivy, gathered around the cars and said their goodbyes to each other. Kate had the stinging feeling of dislike whenever her children looked at her, a feeling that her mother had told her all parents would feel eventually.

"Remember what we agreed, regular Skype calls and you come home when you can." Kate reminded them after she'd given them both bone crushing hugs. She really didn't want to leave with them in this mood.

"I remember Mum, I'm not gonna forget you." Ellie told her, smiling briefly.

"Better not." Kate said in a mock warning tone, but quickly dived back in to give her a kiss on the cheek in case Ellie didn't pick up on the sarcasm.

"Mum." Ellie whined. Will leaned in to give her another kiss after which their daughters were physically pushing them away. "We'll see you soon."

"All right, love you both!" Kate yelled after them as they quickly disappeared, merely waving back at them in response.

"Come on, we better get back to the twins. They'll appreciate us more." Will gently led her back to the car.

"Until they get to school." Kate felt thoroughly disappointed in herself. The increasing security came at the worst time and she could barely lift a finger to stop it, yet she and Will were the ones that Ellie and Alex were taking out their frustrations on.

The long drive home was one of the worst she could remember.

[extasiswings]

Garcy North and South AU prompt: The *ahem* argument right before Lucy leaves for London because I need to see that and also you mentioned that was the part you were most inspired to write. ;D

Ahaha. Welp. Garcy North & South AU, AKA the one where Things Happen before she leaves for London. And yet, still, she doesn’t look back. 

“We’ll leave at once,” Emma says. “The servants can stay and pack up the house, but I’m certainly not inclined to stay a moment longer than absolutely necessary in this horrible, filthy place. It’s no wonder your parents—Lucy? Are you listening?”

In fact, Lucy has not been listening. Not at all, not even a little. Because her father is dead—her father is dead—and she can’t wrap her mind around it. Can barely breathe because of it, not only because it means never seeing him again, but because of everything else that must inevitably follow.

Leaving Milton.

If someone had told her a year ago that she would find herself in this position, Lucy would have laughed in their face. Back then, leaving Milton was her dearest wish. Back then, she thought Milton was hell, with its cotton and its strikes and the way industry seeps from its every pore. But now—

Milton has taken things from her, that much is true. Her mother. Amy Wallace, who had become her dearest friend only to be ripped away. Her father. Her…innocence.

But at the same time, it has also given her more than Helstone ever did, more than London ever could. Milton has allowed her to see the world as it really is, to see people as they really are, even herself.

Lucy isn’t a fool, she knows she can’t stay. Not as a woman alone with no parents to support her, no independent means, or no one to marry. And yet, the thought of getting in a carriage and disappearing without a word is…unbearable.

“I can’t,” Lucy replies. “Leave immediately, that is. I have…friends here. There are people I need to say goodbye to.”

“I can’t imagine finding anyone to be friends with in a place like this.”

Lucy bites back her initial retort that she can’t imagine anyone here wanting to be friends with Emma, even as the other woman arches an eyebrow distastefully at the wallpaper.

“Be that as it may,” she says. “I really must pay a visit to Marlborough Mills. I shouldn’t be long.”

Emma waves her off. “Fine. As long as you’re back in time for us to catch the evening train. I’m not staying here overnight.”

It’s all the permission Lucy needs, and she jumps at the chance to escape the house before Emma can send her with an escort, taking no more time than necessary to grab her father’s Plato off the shelf.

Lucy makes it halfway up the street in the carriage before her resolve begins to waver. She’s hardly seen Garcia Flynn since the end of the strike. Since the day he—

I don’t wish to possess you, I wish to marry you because I love you!

You shouldn’t. Because I do not like you, and never have.

—Lucy flushes at the memory, half in shame recalling her own actions, half in…something else entirely.

(For all that she insisted to Amy that she was the last woman in Milton who would ever want him, she has never, in fact, been entirely indifferent. When he proposed to her, however clumsily, she hadn’t been in a state to hear it. She was angry over Amy’s illness, angry at the assumption that the only reason he was asking was out of some misguided, patronizing attempt to rescue her reputation, and so she hadn’t really listened. Instead, she lashed out, throwing it back in his face without even a thought given to the fact that he’d already lost a wife and child and therefore wasn’t likely to offer a proposal lightly.)

When she has seen him, it hasn’t been particularly comfortable. Especially after her mother passed, after that night at the train station with Wyatt when Flynn saw them together and assumed—well, she knows what he assumed.

I hope you realize that any foolish passion for you on my part is entirely over.

Given that, it may be for the best if she tells the carriage driver to turn around. Goodness knows she hasn’t done much to endear herself to him lately. Flynn may very well want her to leave and never come back.  

And yet—and yet, she can’t make the words come to change course. She can’t not say goodbye.

“Miss?” The carriage stops. “Marlborough Mills, miss.”

Well. Now or never.

The thrum of machines splinters the air, as it always does during working hours, but the noise is deafened slightly inside the main house where a housemaid informs her that Mr. Flynn’s mother is not in, but that Mr. Flynn himself is in the home office if she would like to see him. Lucy ignores the scrutinizing glance she gets when she says yes, as well as the whispers and giggles from another pair of maids in the corner. But, scrutiny aside, she’s led to the office.

“Miss Lucy Preston for you, sir.”

Flynn’s head whips up from the desk, his eyes widening a fraction as he takes her in. His mouth opens, then shuts, and he pushes back his chair to stand.

“Thank you, Jane. You can go,” he says. Lucy decidedly does not jump when the door shuts behind her, but her hands do tighten around the book she’s carrying as she’s struck by the fact that they’re very much alone. Not that she minds necessarily—Maria Flynn has no great love for her, and for that Lucy can’t blame her—but at least if Maria had been around, Lucy would have had something else to focus on. Instead, there’s only Flynn himself, towering over her as usual, but with a softness in his eyes and the lines of his body that she wouldn’t have expected.

“I heard about your father,” Flynn starts when she doesn’t move to speak. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Lucy nods, turning the book over in her hands. “Thank you,” she replies. “He—Mr. Mason said it was peaceful at least.”

“I meant to visit,” he acknowledges. “To pay my respects. I’ve been—”

“It’s alright,” Lucy interrupts. “I haven’t been up for many visitors as it is. But my aunt is here now to take me back with her to London.”

“To London?”

“Yes.” She turns the book over again, then holds it out to him. “I brought you this. Father always said you were one of his favorite students. He would have wanted you to have it.”

Their fingers brush when Flynn takes it from her, his mouth curving slightly when he catches the title.

“I’ll treasure it always,” he promises before setting it aside on the desk. “He was a good man.”

“I know.”

“If there’s anything you need…” Flynn trails off and Lucy shakes her head.

“My aunt has taken over everything,” she says. “I’m sure it’ll be…handled appropriately.”

“Right. Of course.” The air between them is stilted and awkward, his words not coming as easily as they usually do. But then, it’s also one of very few times there’s nothing for them to argue about. There’s no banter to be had, there are no sharp words to be spoken. Neither of them is likely to come away from this conversation bleeding, which is good, and yet…strange.

“When do you leave?” He asks.

“Today,” Lucy replies. “As soon as I return, actually. I just wanted to say goodbye. And give you…”

“The book.” Flynn nods, a shadow passing over his face that she can’t help feeling—or perhaps hoping—is disappointment. “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t keep you.”

“Right,” Lucy echoes, her stomach sinking. She’s not sure if she wants him to stop her, isn’t sure if he could. But part of her at least wishes he would try. “Goodbye, then. Mr. Flynn.”

“Goodbye, Miss Preston.”

She doesn’t look at his face, can’t bear it, but his voice is carefully level, as though he’s holding back. Holding back what exactly, she can’t know—her thoughts are a wrenching mix of wild fantasy and practicality—but it would be for the best if she doesn’t give herself a chance to find out. With a lump in her throat that has nothing to do with her father, she turns toward the door.

Come on, she orders her feet. Go.

A beat. Behind her, the desk creaks as Flynn pushes off of it, the air whispering around her as he takes a step in her direction.

(And still, she’s glued to the floor.)

“Miss Preston—”

“He was my brother—”

They speak at the same time, the words rushed and tripping over one another. Flynn recovers himself first, shaking his head and taking another step, until she can just feel the heat coming off of him at her back.

“What?” He asks.

“He—” Lucy closes her eyes and swallows hard, trying not to think about the fact that she could step back and just…fall into him. That contact would be so easy. “The man you saw me with at the train station—”

“Lucy, you don’t need to—”

“Let me finish,” she says, although god. God. She’s not unaware that he just used her name, almost as if against his will. Far too familiar, and yet…she wants to hear it again.

“My parents used to think they couldn’t have children,” Lucy continues. “But they always wanted a son, so they took in an orphan boy. A few years later, by some miracle or strange happenstance, I came along. But they loved him—Wyatt, is his name—and so we were raised together like siblings. For all intents and purposes, he’s my brother, if not, admittedly, by blood. He wanted to see mother before she passed, that’s why he was here, and I was seeing him off at the station that night.”

“Why—” Flynn cuts himself off, clearing his throat roughly before trying again. “Why are you telling me now?”

(Perhaps…perhaps, just maybe, he’d been lying when he told her his feelings were gone.)

Despite his best efforts, his voice still rasps at her ear, too full of hope and possibility to come off as casual. One of his hands comes up to hang in the air by her shoulder, but he still doesn’t quite touch her.

You have to know, Lucy thinks. Please don’t make me say it.

(She’s not convinced she could put words to the way she feels even if he did ask more specifically. Everything is muddled, clouded by the loss of her parents, of Amy, by her impending exit to London. It’s far too much to sort through in a moment. But she knows some things—she isn’t oblivious to the heat sparking in her blood, to the way she wants to close the space between them, to get closer than she’s ever been to a man. London means Noah and society and frivolity, means the slow death of the version of herself she’s found in Milton. London means a parade of men who expect her to be quiet and polite and not think for herself. She may not have much of a choice about going, but before she does, here, with Flynn, she wants—she just wants.)

“I suppose I…would hate for you to think badly of me,” she replies.

“You haven’t seemed too concerned about that before.”

Flynn touches her shoulder to gently turn her around and Lucy exhales shakily as his hand trails up her neck to finally tip her chin up. When her eyes flick open, his gaze is dark, and she wets her lips unconsciously.

“Lucy…why?”

“Because I—” Her voice catches in her throat, words fading from her mind.

It’s not a fully conscious choice to lean up on her toes, but Flynn bends down to meet her and their mouths catch and release. It’s a brief, fleeting thing, but it’s a match striking, a machine sputtering on. Lucy’s hands come up to grip his jacket and she pulls him back for more, desperate and wanting and needy.

She’s been kissed before. On her hands, her cheek, once or twice on her lips, stolen pecks by too-forward suitors that left her intrigued, but with no ability, no position, to ask for more. Not when she didn’t want to marry any of them. But now…her parents are gone, she’s leaving Milton, leaving him, and Flynn…he’s no innocent, fumbling society boy. He’s been married. He knows how to touch a woman, how to kiss—she’s seen his passion before, when they’ve fought, but this is something different entirely. This is focused. Devastating. When he pulls back, it leaves her bereft.

(She wants so much more.)

Flynn’s hands slip down to her hips and flex hard enough that she feels it through her layers of skirts—when Lucy gasps, he tries to withdraw, but she covers his hands, holding them in place.

“Lucy—” He closes his eyes, a shiver rocking his body.

(That day in her father’s study, Lucy rebuked him for not acting correctly, for speaking out of turn. It’s deeply ironic then, that now, in Flynn’s own office, the last thing she wants is for him to be a gentleman.)

“Please.” She tips her face up and kisses him again, soft, slow, pressing into him, asking as much with her body as her words. His tongue twines around hers and the heat that spikes through her drags a whine from her throat. Still kissing him, her hands slide his slowly up her waist, her sides—through her dress and corset she feels the pressure as his thumb roughly swipes against the underside of her breast, and she arches into him.

Her head spins—it’s like being drunk, but instead of wine or spirits, it’s his mouth and hands that are intoxicating. She could drown in him.

The next moment, one of Flynn’s arms wraps around her waist and he lifts her off the ground, setting her down on his desk. She bites at his lip, her hands sliding up his chest, clawing at his shoulders. She wants him closer. If this is the last chance she has, she needs him closer.

There’s a warmth and a wetness building between her legs, and she spreads them, letting him step between them and push her skirts up.

“Garcia—”

Flynn wrenches away, panting hard. He looks as devastated as Lucy feels, his mouth bruised, cheeks flushed. The idea that she did that…it’s a powerful thought.

“We can’t,” he says, even as she pulls him in for another kiss. “Lucy—”

“Why not?” She breathes against his mouth. “Garcia, please—”

Flynn’s hand drops to her thigh, fingertips ghosting over her skin.

“It wouldn’t be…it isn’t…Lucy, you’re a lady.” Even as he says it though, his hand continues slipping up.

Lucy shakes her head and kisses him harder.

“Not right now,” she replies. “Right now, I—can I just be Lucy? Just for a few minutes?”

(Because Miss Lucy Preston is going to London. But Lucy—just Lucy—she’s the one with the North in her skin, in her bones. She’s the one who still can’t say it, but who would marry him if he asked again. Miss Lucy Preston should be aghast at everything they’ve done, but Lucy…god, she would give him everything, let him ruin her, and would thank him for it.)

Flynn doesn’t answer in words, but he catches her mouth as his fingers meet her center, stroking lightly through her underclothes, and the kiss swallows her cry. They stay like that, barely more than a breath between their lips as he makes her shudder and sigh and moan. Her toes curl as something in her winds tighter and tighter, especially when he finally slips his hand beneath the fabric to where she’s hot and slick and aching. When the tension snaps, Lucy goes liquid and boneless, dropping her forehead to Flynn’s shoulder as she shakes through it.

After a minute, Flynn steps back, letting her legs fall closed. She manages a small noise in protest, but he doesn’t seem inclined to give her more than he already had.

“Do you have to go to London?” He asks quietly.

Lucy wets her lips, chasing the taste of him, and meets his eyes.

“That depends,” she replies.

“On?”

On whether you give me a reason to stay.

Except, Lucy has only just opened her mouth when there’s a knock at the door.

“Sir? Your mother is here. She needs a word about the latest production schedule.”

Lucy freezes, then abruptly snaps back to herself, jumping off the desk and smoothing down her skirts, her hair, anything to try and make herself look like she hasn’t just been thoroughly ravished.

“Lucy—”

“Garcia, really, there’s no need to keep me wait—” The door swings open, and Maria Flynn cuts herself off as she takes in the scene.

“Miss Preston. I didn’t realize you were here. I was sorry to hear about your father.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Flynn,” Lucy replies shakily, hoping desperately that it can pass for grief rather than anything else. “I was just…leaving.”

Her gaze meets Flynn’s again, but his is full of nothing but regret.

“I do hope you enjoy the book, Mr. Flynn,” she says.

“I hope you enjoy…London,” he replies.

“I imagine it will be quite a change,” Lucy acknowledges. “And that I’ll miss…Milton. Quite a bit.”

Ask me to stay. Give me a reason.

But the moment is gone.

“Goodbye, Miss Preston.”

Lucy nods. “Mr. Flynn. Mrs. Flynn.”

She sweeps out of the room almost too quickly to be polite, but her eyes burn with unshed tears. Her legs are shaky underneath her as she leaves the house, makes her way through the yard, and climbs back into the carriage.

“Home, miss?”

Lucy swipes at her eyes. “Yes. Thank you.”

Home, then London. And already, those moments in Flynn’s office are fading away, seeming almost more a dream than reality.

Something in her is pulled back toward Marlborough Mills, but she doesn’t let herself look out the window. She doesn’t let herself look back.

(If she had, she would have seen Garcia Flynn, standing on the same balcony where she saved him from a mob of strikers, watching her go, praying for one more glimpse of her.)

[soundspheremag]

Film Review: ‘The Favourite’ [City Screen, York]

Acerbic, witty and deliciously cynical, Yorgos Lanthimos’ The Favourite is a period film with a welcome, brilliantly executed twist.

Lanthimos has always had a playful irreverent streak as a film maker, and The Favourite revels in his desire to push genre boundaries and subvert expectations. Ostensibly, it tells the story of Queen Anne (Olivia Colman) and her confidantes, first Olivia Wilde’s Sarah Churchill, and then the young pretender, Emma Stone’s Emily Masham amidst the backdrop of England’s war with France in 1708. Sarah, or Lady Marlborough to refer to her by her official title, is Queen Anne’s ‘favourite’; her confidante, her closest friend and even her secret lover. Such is her influence on the Queen that she effectively rules the country, managing to influence Anne’s decisions and affect the will of parliament, despite the constant objections of the Leader of the Opposition, Harley (an excellent, extravagant turn by Nicholas Hoult).

The closeness of their relationship is gradually eroded by the arrival of Sarah’s once noble, now impoverished cousin Emily, who arrives at Court looking for employment and a chance to escape poverty. Soon, Sarah and Emily are clashing and competing for the Queen’s affections, attempting to use everything they can to discredit and disgrace the other in the eyes of the Queen.

Playing loosely on historical events, Lanthimos creates a world filled with extravagant excess and crafts characters that are savagely witty and slyly conniving, offering a kind of humour that is definitely not associated with period costume dramas of this kind. Indeed, the offsetting of the script, excellently written by Deborah Davis and Tony McNamara, with extravagant palace halls and amazing costumes serves to add to the absurdity of it, almost as if a different, more straight-laced, film should have happened before chaos took over.

That sense of chaos is fun throughout the film, but it wouldn’t be anything like as effective without the script, or indeed the performances of the main trio who serve to elevate it to new heights. Olivia Colman is fantastic as Anne. On the surface, she appears just as absurd as the film’s concept. Anne, who is burdened with severe gout, is almost always adorned in extravagant dresses, is prone to taciturn childish mood swings and outbursts of sullen rage, but Colman is excellent at blending these moments of absurdity with Anne’s more intelligent but anxious and sad inner layer.

Her interactions with Sarah in particular bring out a lot in Colman’s Anne as their conversations switch between being scabrous and dry to loving and tender. There’s a lot to love both comedically and dramatically in them. Weisz’s performance as Sarah is just as vital, and she brings an air of witty self-confidence that acts as an amazing counterweight to the ridiculousness that surrounds her, grounding everything with her observations and withering put-downs. Her tough love approach with Anne has mixed results but their chemistry is undeniable and their relationship is genuinely believable, such is the bond between the two.

Emma Stone’s Emily has a different brand of affection for Anne. Stone does a great job of portraying someone that may once have had a moral code, but who swaps that for a conniving and false nature that she realises she is incredibly good at using to her advantage. She woos the Queen with kind words and platitudes, as well as an adeptness for medicine that helps soothe her gout. As she starts to subsume the role of the ‘favourite’, her war with Sarah escalates dramatically, and it’s great fun watching both of them try to outdo each other.

The Favourite is Lanthimos at his best, telling a story that satisfies dramatically, but benefits endlessly from its darkly comic underpinning and its satirical bite. Its three leads dominate the screen and own every interaction, nailing every line and every look as they take us on a relationship rollercoaster where everyone is in some way culpable, and no one is innocent. Period dramas have never been so fun.

To see when the film is showing click here