All of Us Fit in Our Places

She winced. "Maybe I should have been a bit more diplomatic."

He turned and put a hand on her shoulder.

"As I said just now, you handled yourself admirably. Giles will not change the way he behaves so do not start by deferring to him."

***

That evening, they assembled for dinner in the dining room which was possibly one of the most intimidating places Anna had ever found herself.

From the polished parquet floor to the gilded portraits on the walls to the three crystal chandeliers hanging over a table that could seat thirty people, the room reeked of wealth and arrogance.

Forget Thornfield, she thought, this was Howards End! At least they hadn't had to dress for dinner.

Charles and Naomi sat to her left on one side, his siblings across the table. Thankfully, the closest opposite were Byron and Anastacia.

Less comfortably, the silent matriarch Monica sat at her right hand on the end of the table, facing her husband at the other. Paul was flanked by Naomi and Giles.

On being introduced, Naomi had merely whispered 'hello' without raising her eyes from the floor. Anna had reached out to place her hand on Naomi's arm and the other woman had looked up, startled. She was completely unlike her step siblings.

Anna judged that she fell somewhere in the middle of the order, younger than Charles or Giles but older than Byron and Anastacia. Her hair was a rich brown unlike the boys' black or Anastacia's blonde.

Anna wondered at her choice of lipstick, a vivid scarlet. A mark of identity? Or defiance?

If the other inhabitants of Dearborn were Hollywood material, then Monica was the picture in the attic, gaunt and grey and steeped in unhappiness. Without knowing anything of her circumstances, Anna started to feel pity for her. She took a sip of her wine and tried not to stare.

The soup course was brought in by Judy and another striking young woman that Anna guessed was the other assistant housekeeper, what did Charles say she was called? Elaine Tomlinson, that was it. Another film star in waiting.

"Do you always eat like this?" she asked Anastacia.

"No, this is just for you."

"Me?"

"Sure, you're a guest."

"But I'm nothing special. I don't warrant the use of a state room."

Giles snorted at the other end of the table and unexpectedly, Monica spoke.

"What is it that you do, young lady?"

Her voice was of the deep south of the United States, rich and low, and Anna couldn't have been more surprised.

There was a sudden tension in the air; a sensation of being at interview.

"I'm a writer."

"And what is it that you write?"

"Oh, this and that. I'm an occasional columnist for a weekly, I've been published in some national magazines. Not enough to pay the rent though."

She had intended the last statement to be a bit of humorous self-deprecation, but it fell into a gulf of silence. Monica did not respond.

Anna looked down the table to where everyone else was concentrating on their soup, no one met her gaze. If this had been an interview, had she passed?

***

The following morning, Charles knocked gently and then opened the door. Anna was sitting in bed, hair slightly tousled, still in her night clothes.

She had been reading a magazine but now she looked over the top of it to meet his eyes. She smiled and his heart missed a beat.

He closed the door behind him and went to sit on the bed. She took his hand and pulled him into an embrace. Her lips were warm and soft, and she kissed away from his mouth and down the line of his jaw to his throat.

Charles closed his eyes and felt her hands caressing his chest. His cock started to stiffen, and he boldly took one of her hands and placed it on his crotch.

"Hmm," she murmured. "I can think of several things to do with that."

"What things?" he whispered.

Her breath came in his ear, moist and erotic.

"Why don't you lean back and find out. Keep those eyes closed now."

There was the sound of the zip of his fly being released and then the feeling of cool air round his erection. He jumped as Anna ran her tongue up his shaft from base to tip. Her fingers gently caressed his balls and he got even harder.

He opened one eye and was greeted by the sight of his intended enveloping the crown of his cock with her mouth. Her tongue was doing something amazing, though quite what he was not sure.

Much closer though, was Anna's sensational derrière. He ran a hand over the smooth taut flesh and then eased it between her legs to where he could feel her wetness and heat.

With that she looked round. "I said no peeking!"

"When the view's this good, can you blame me?"

Anna giggled. "Fancy trying something?"

"Anything."

"Well, I'm trying to pleasure you. How about you return the favour?"

With that she straddled his chest and eased back, her dripping slit coming closer and closer until he was able to lift his head and lick some of that divine nectar from its source.

"Just be gentle, Charles."

He'd learned his lesson well and, pausing to grab a pillow to put behind his head, set to exploring her wonderful geometry with as much reverence as he could muster.

There was a little nub at the top of her sex that produced the most interesting reactions when he ran his tongue over it. Tentatively he sucked it between his lips and flicked it with his tongue.

Anna left off sucking his cock long enough to gasp, "Jesus Christ!" and switched to giving him a hand job, rubbing the edge of his crown with her thumb. Now it was his turn to groan the name of the Saviour.

Forcing himself to concentrate he returned to licking her nub and using his thumb to penetrate her. He could feel the tension in her thighs and guessed that her climax was not far off. He knew his was certainly close.

A tensing rippled through her and manifested itself as an abrupt tightening of her grip on his shaft. He groaned but retained enough self-possession to carry on attending to her pleasure.

Suddenly Anna grew rigid and let out a shuddering inarticulate cry. The sound of her passion pushed him over the edge, and he spurted milky jets high in the air to splatter down over the two of them.

After a minute or two, when they lay panting together, Anna lifted her head and turned to face him. There were dots and strings of semen in her hair. Charles thought it might be the one of the most erotic things he had ever seen.

"Guess I need a shower, then?" Anna asked.

"I suggest we take it together," he answered.

Anna considered him with her head on one side.

"I suppose you fucking me in the shower wouldn't be out of the question?"

"Should you assent then I think it is almost guaranteed."

"You've taken to this sex thing like a natural, Mr Stanforth."

"I like to think I am adaptable."

***

After breakfast, Anna did a little exploring. Making her way through the kitchen and scullery, she emerged at the side of the house.

Walking round past a couple of the estate's working vehicles, a pair of battered Land Rovers, to the back of the house, she was confronted by a high wall in red brick, draped in an ancient wisteria. It would have been a picture earlier in the year.

To the left was a yard with some horse stalls and beyond that the fields, shimmering in the heat haze.

Anna was still having trouble getting her head round that fact that anyone might own so much, let alone that by some chance it might someday come to her by dint of being Mrs Stanforth.

She spied a small green door in the wall, almost hidden by the sprawling wisteria. If it hadn't been for the fact that it was slightly ajar, with sunlight spilling through the gap, she might never have seen it. Curiosity piqued, she slipped through into wonderland.

The kitchen garden was immense; completely enclosed by the red brick wall and bathed in sunshine. It was an oasis, a place of meditation.

She closed her eyes. There was a background hum of insects leading busy lives and, not far away, a pair of secateurs clicked rhythmically. A light wind rustled the foliage and rich organic scents tickled her nose.

The sun flooded down, driving everything and she turned her face up to it. Joy filled her, the ecstasy of being alive. She opened her arms wide and danced on the spot, twirling round and round.

Aware that the sound of the secateurs had stopped, Anna opened her eyes to find an older man watching her with a smile.

She came to a halt, abashed. He gestured with the clippers.

"You go on, Miss. It's good to be alive on a day like this. You go on and enjoy yourself."

"This is such a wonderful place!"

"Aye. It's a privilege."

"Do you work here all the time?"

"Mostly. Me and Mrs Took and one of the lads. Except at harvest time, then it's everyone to wherever they're needed."

Anna nodded. "Can I help?"

He looked surprised and then smiled. "Hah! I never refuse help when it's offered!"

***

Later that afternoon, dirty and sweaty but pleasantly tired, she bid her goodbyes to the men and made her way to the house.

Anastacia met her on the stairs as she went up to shower and change.

"What have you been up to?"

"Helping out in the kitchen garden. It's been lovely. Mike and Garry are so nice."

"How to win friends and influence people!" Anastacia laughed. "They'll love you for that."

"They said nice things about you too."

"The staff appreciate it when the family muck in and help. I'm out on the farm most days, Byron too."

Anna frowned. "And Giles?"

"Too busy with important stuff to waste time labouring," he replied from the landing.

Anna exchanged glances with his sister, and they went their separate ways.

Giles lent against the banister and watched her ascend the staircase.

"Time for some scribbling?"

She ignored him, turning right towards the guest suite that she used when visiting.

He chuckled. "Maybe one day you'll write something in a paper anyone actually reads."

"Maybe one day you'll do something where anyone actually gives a fuck," she muttered under her breath; then chided herself. 'Don't wrestle with a pig, you both get dirty, but the pig likes it'.

Charles was sitting at the writing desk when she let herself into her room. He raised one impeccable eyebrow at her appearance, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Oi bin labourin', Master Charles!"

He smiled. "That will endear you to the staff."

"Your sister said so too."

"Would you like me to wash your hair?"

Anna looked at him. "That's one of the best chat-up lines I've ever heard."

"Diplomacy is an art, Miss Mollica."

"Isn't it the continuation of war by other means?"

"That's actually the reverse of the von Clausewitz proposition."

"And wasn't the message of the 60s, 'make love, not war.'?"

"Sadly, that didn't have a lasting impact," he mused, looking out of the window. "Perhaps it should be revived."

He looked at her blouse where it lay on the floor and then up to where her finger beckoned him from the bathroom.

He rose with alacrity and threw his jacket on the bed. Kicking his shoes off he made his way to the bathroom door. His love was a pink shape wreathed in steam behind the frosted glass of the shower cubicle.

Hissing with frustration at his cuff-links' refusal to disengage, he heard Anna start to sing softly, and he paused in wonder.

"When my soul was in the lost and found, you came along to claim it.

I didn't know just what was wrong with me until your kiss helped me name it.

Now I'm no longer doubtful of what I'm living for,

'cause if I make you happy, I don't need to do more."

He stepped inside the heat and the steam to find her waiting with her head on one side. Drawing him close she rested her head on his chest.

He held her, wishing to be worthy of her.

"You offered to wash my hair," she murmured.

As he lathered her scalp, she stood with her back to him, her buttocks caressing his cock as she hummed happily. He tried manfully not to prod her with it as he rose to full stiffness. Her hand came round to lift it to rest against her back but then stayed to squeeze his shaft rhythmically.

He managed to retain enough self-control to rinse her hair of the soap and then his hands drifted south to cup her breasts. Relishing their shape and their weight, he stroked her hard nipples with his thumbs. She arched her back and turned her head to receive his kiss.

The rear wall of the shower closet had a small step for no discernible purpose. However, they had discovered it compensated quite neatly for their difference in height. Anna took hold of the rail at the top and stepped up.

She was pleasantly surprised when she felt his hands grasp her thighs and his tongue invade her cleft. She opened her legs to give him better access and his agile tongue sought out her clit. He really was a quick study, she thought, as little pulses of pleasure surged through her.

Her arousal started to flow, and he licked it up enthusiastically, each rasp pushing her a little higher. He sucked her labia into his mouth and stroked them with his tongue before moving to do the same with her clit.

Suddenly she was shaking with need.

"Charles, I need you inside me."

Her lover rose to his feet, and she guided his shaft to her opening. It invaded her deliciously, easing in to touch her very core. She started to gasp as he withdrew and then penetrated her again, faster now, and she was pushing back to meet him until there was an audible slap as they met. His hands gripped her hips and she put one hand down on top of his and their fingers twined.

She spared a look over her shoulder and he glanced up, faltering for a moment at her expression.

"What?"

"I was just thinking, it's a shame I'm on the Pill."

He smiled crookedly; she was finding her way to the centre of him.

"If it's this good now, imagine what it'll be like when we're trying to make a baby."

"How is it you always know exactly what to say?"

***

Anna had realised that a fundamental difference between the house at Dearborn and her parents' house was that at home the general rule was that all doors were open, whereas in the big house, the reverse was true. It gave the place something of the atmosphere of a conference centre.

Consequently, the sight of the door to the sewing room being ajar piqued her curiosity, and she tiptoed up and put her head round the door.

Monica stood by the window looking down into the kitchen garden.

"Come in, Anna."

Anna jumped. Feeling oddly guilty she eased the door open and slipped inside. She stood awkwardly for a few moments and then asked, "What can I do for you, Mrs Stanforth?"

"I saw you in the garden, yesterday."

"Mr Harper let me help. It was fun."

There was silence for a minute.

"Do you love my son?"

Merely hearing the question brought Charles to the forefront of her thoughts and Anna filled with giddy delight. She struggled to find the words to express herself.

Monica had turned from the window and was watching her face.

"I felt like that once. I hope it sees you through."

Her face twisted with pain. Anna advanced quickly to take her hands.

"What can I do?"

Monica stared down at Anna's hands. No one had touched her in an age. Paul despaired of her, her children were afraid of her, and the staff had learned to keep their distance, but this young woman offered comfort without hesitation.

"Sit with me."

On the small sofa in the window alcove, Monica looked out, beyond the kitchen garden to the distant tree line that marked the boundary to the Johnson's land.

"I used to sit here with Paul's mother. She's been dead some years."

"Do you miss her?"

"We understood one another."

Anna waited patiently for her to continue but she fell silent again.

She took the initiative.

"You asked me if I love Charles. I knew it almost the first moment I saw him. 'Yes', seems inadequate but other than that, I hardly know how to answer, which is a little embarrassing for someone who tries to earn a living through writing. However, my sister said something that often comes to me these days and that is that he completes me."

The other woman nodded shortly.

"Will you marry him?"

Anna laughed. "He hasn't asked yet. I hope he will. If he doesn't, I'll just have to wait for a leap year and ask him. He'd better not say no."

"You seem very determined, Miss Mollica."

"I never wanted anything more in my whole life."

Monica pursed her lips. "Don't limit yourself."

Anna stared at her. "What do you mean?"

"Romantic love feels like the answer to all problems. But it isn't."

She blinked. "Well, no, I have other things I want to do. Dearborn is the most wonderful source of inspiration."

Charles' mother looked at her sharply. "You will not expose us to public mockery."

Anna flustered. "No! No! Of course not. It's just that I've been stuck in a creative rut. Everything here is so different; it's given me ideas for all sorts of things."

"Such as." Monica fixed Anna with a gimlet stare.

"I was thinking about self-sufficiency when I was working in the garden. Can you really grow enough food to feed everyone?" she stuttered.

Monica relaxed. "I suppose."

She looked back to the sewing room. "Angelica spent hours in here. It's a shame that none of the children are interested."

"But when Charles showed me this room the other day, there was material in the throat of the sewing machine."

Monica frowned. "She wouldn't dare!"

Anna's eyebrows climbed. Monica's tone was ominous.

Abruptly, the other woman rose from the sofa and strode swiftly from the room. Bewildered, Anna turned to watch her leave.

Moments later, Charles put his head round the door.

"Anna! What just happened? Did you have an argument with Mother?"

"No! I just told her about the fabric we saw on the sewing machine and then she said something like 'she wouldn't dare' and left."

Charles looked concerned. "I'll be right back."

She heard him break into a run which alarmed her more than anything else. Charles never ran.

***

"Thankfully, Naomi is away in London," Charles said, as they sat in the formal garden later.

"What's the problem? Why did your mum go off on one like that?"

"My mother," he paused, "dislikes my step-sister intensely. She would view Naomi's presence in the sewing room almost as trespassing."

"That's awful!" Anna exclaimed.

Charles inclined his head in acknowledgement.

***

Third parties

At around the same time, the two senior staff at Dearborn were sharing a quick break in their duties.

Edna Took looked over the rim of her cup at the other woman. Valerie Cane had wavy copper coloured hair cut quite short, and blue eyes. She could look severe at times. Of late she had been increasingly downcast.

"How long is it since you and Peter split up?"

"The decree nisi was issued six years ago last April."

"But you'd been living apart longer than that."

"He moved out nearly ten years ago."

"That's a long time to be on your own."

Valerie looked up to the window.

"I'm forty-four this month. In a couple of years' time, I will have been here thirty years. And what do I have to show for it? A failed marriage, a house I don't own, and some money in the bank. I've long since given up on the idea of children."

Mrs Took came round the table and put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm the same. I love the house and the family," she paused, "well, most of them, but I'm not getting any younger, neither."

Valerie nodded gloomily.

***

The following day, Charles' sister and Mrs Cane's deputy were going through the motions.

"I don't know why you have to be so uptight!" Anastacia said angrily.

Judy Finch drew herself up.

"You're family and I'm not, and I'm not going to be pigeonholed as somebody's bit of rough!"