Elizabeth 07: Before the Storm

Jonathan and I arrived to find them still in their friendly cuddle by the door, and eagerly we all entered the café with all the hunger, literal and figurative, of a typical Friday evening. "Benjamin said he would come by early and ensure that we had a table waiting for us," Irene explained.

He had done just that, and as we scanned the room for our old friend, we all seemed to spot his welcoming, vaguely familiar visage at once. "Benjamin!" Elizabeth exclaimed, throwing herself into his arms in the uniquely uninhibited way that had been so instrumental in bringing us all together in the first place. Pressing him tightly to her bosom, she continued, "I'd be lying to say I'm happy about the cause for your returning, but it is perfectly delightful to see you, my friend!"

"For me as well," Benjamin said when at last she had released him. Looking over her shoulder at Irene, he added, "I can just imagine what you are thinking at this moment!"

Irene let a guilty laugh escape. "My two hairiest pleasures," she confessed. "My fingers are itching for you both at the moment!"

With the ice broken, we all burst into salacious laughter at the memory of Irene's often expressed (and once fulfilled) longing to run her fingers through Benjamin's thick pubic hair with one hand and Elizabeth's equally ample bush with the other. For the moment at least, we were once again the thoroughly uninhibited band of truly intimate friends and lovers that we had been in that recent yet elusive past. I found my own mind wandering to similarly filthy pleasures, an experience I suspected was universal in our heady little bubble.

"Just as well that you didn't bring them here, of course, but where are the little ones?" Benjamin asked as we settled ourselves at our favourite corner table.

"Alexandria and Joy are caring for them at the mansion," I explained. "And they couldn't be happier about it - this time at least."

"I'm almost afraid of what they'll have to say about it when the babies are done with them," Elizabeth quipped. "But yes, they were positively delighted when we asked them."

"Little Joy!" Benjamin remarked. "And Alexandria...the last time I saw her, I don't know that I'd have trusted her with an adult let alone a baby. What a reminder of all the time gone by!"

"It feels that way from our end, too," Jonathan said. "Some days it feels as though nothing has changed, some days everything. But Alexandria had most certainly changed a great deal; that much is constant."

"Thank heavens!" Elizabeth agreed. "She has fairly made a career of apologizing for her past, as well."

"Speaking of which," Benjamin said. "I feel I owe a few apologies of my own, to Jonathan for one. I've never forgotten our final conversation at the baths, and I know I was rather haughty."

"It's all forgiven," Jonathan said.

"If not outright appreciated," added Elizabeth, who recalled that the uncomfortable exchange had led to an enjoyable afternoon in bed for herself and her true love. Benjamin looked at her rather quizzically, but from the look on his face I believe he was able to determine what she was implying.

"Benjamin, you are owed at least as many apologies as you owe," Irene added. "Most of all from myself. But could we check all that at the door and focus instead on today and tomorrow?"

"Hear hear," added Jonathan. "All we know for sure about the future is that -"

"Please, let us not talk of that either!" Elizabeth interrupted. "What must be must be, but tonight is for pleasant things only!"

"Indeed," Irene agreed. "Benjamin, Elizabeth, feel free to exchange your latest hair-care tips!" She was laughing hard before she could even get the last few words out, and we all joined in promptly. Elizabeth laughed hardest of all, grateful as always for the acceptance her intimate distinction had achieved in this lovely phase of her life.

After that undeniably racy beginning, the conversation was surprisingly devoid of salacious detail. Perhaps that was yet another sign of our growing older, but I am inclined to believe the likeliest reason was that talking about sex was far less appealing for Irene and Benjamin when they were officially no longer free to have it together. And so, as we enjoyed one another's company thoroughly but stayed for the most part with much drier topics, I found myself thinking yet again that it was high time for me to leave Westfordshire City for a while in any event. Naturally I knew better than to say so; but many was the time I thought as much while we talked of babies and life in Benjamin's faraway new home and my column and Irene's students and other things I have long forgotten. A few other old friends spotted Benjamin and stopped by to shake his hand and say hello, but all were sharp enough to see tonight was primarily for the five of us alone. Dry or not, and notwithstanding the romantic past, it stretched into an agreeably long evening of the most comfortable sort of friendship.

"Heavens, this is what I have missed the most," I said when we finally stood to take our leave.

"As have I," Benjamin said. "If only it all could have always been so simple before!"

"Life always gets in the way, doesn't it?" Elizabeth reminded us. "Now then, Benjamin, I know you will be joining us all in accompanying Agnes home so you can meet the babies!"

"I'd have insisted upon it!" Benjamin confirmed.

The sun was only just down outside, and the air was warm but restless. A sure sign of a summer storm, we all knew; the only question was whether we would reach the mansion before the rain began. All at once I hoped it would begin pouring as soon as we were safely inside, for the last thing I wanted just then was for our time together to end.

As the cab wended its way down the high street towards home, I made some semblance of an effort at following the fond reminiscing in which the others continued to indulge; but my attention was focused on outside and the quiet, dark shops and the deserted sidewalks. All so peaceful and safe; that looked just perverse from where I sat just then! Elizabeth seemed to know what I was feeling as usual, for she found my hand in the dark and gave it a discrete squeeze. "We're all nervous about what is to come, you know," she whispered."

"I only wish that were comforting somehow," I replied; but I did return her affectionate grip.

Alexandria and Joy were looking harried but happy when we arrived back at the mansion. Both were delighted to see Benjamin as well; Alexandria quite thoughtfully asked his permission before embracing him, which of course was freely given. "I certainly wasn't expecting that!" he confessed as he returned the hug.

"She has surprised us all in the most wonderful of ways lately," said Elizabeth, collecting up Margaret from the cradle where she had just awoken with a howl. "If you'll excuse me, I believe someone is hungry!"

"Likewise," said Irene, taking Frank from Joy's arms. "Thank you, Joy," she said. "I hope they weren't terribly hard on you tonight?"

"Oh, not at all!" Joy said. "There is no place I should rather be!"

"No place but at the church mixer with Robert!" Alexandria teased.

"Oh, leave me alone!" Joy grumbled. To Irene she confessed, "I did want to go, but Mother says I'm too young for all that. She can hardly stop me from seeing him when we're at Yarmouth, though!"

"I shouldn't say that too loudly if I were you," I pointed out.

"Mother won't hear; she is locked away in her room," Alexandria reassured me. "All evening, once she was persuaded Joy wasn't going to run off. She made it clear she did not care for the babies, being all done with raising her own and all."

"I suppose that is her prerogative," I said, not caring to tell my cousins what I - and all of us - really thought of their mother. I sensed from the looks on Jonathan and Benjamin's faces that I was not alone in that feeling; and I was grateful that Elizabeth, whom Aunt had always liked least of all, had taken her leave along with Irene to feed the babies.

"Benjamin," Joy declared, "I hear you've been overseas! I was ever so happy when Agnes told me you would be returning, as I want to hear all about it. I plan to go overseas myself as soon as I'm done with school, you know!"

"Well, that's delightful," said Benjamin, sitting beside her on the couch. "It certainly had been a great experience for me. Where do you think you want to go?"

The two of them were promptly lost in comparing notes on their favourite faraway places, at which point I chanced to note that my wishes had been answered: it was raining hard. A flash of lightning illuminated the garden outside the windows just long enough to show just how hard, and I was reassured that no sane person would dare leave the house anytime soon. I could only hope it would keep up that way long enough for us all to make the decision to spend the night.

As if on cue, Jonathan declared, "I hope that doesn't keep up. We'll be stuck here all night if it is."

"Oh, do stay!" Alexandria piped up. "We'd be delighted to have you for old time's sake anyway, you know!"

"I couldn't agree more," I added. "And you too, Benjamin."

Benjamin began to reply, but he was interrupted by a cathartic whoop from the front door. "Nearly made it!" came a voice that surely echoed throughout the ground floor. "Nearly." The door to the parlour burst open and in stumbled Joy and Alexandria's brother, Thomas, in a once-resplendent suit that was now soaked; his tie undone but still hanging limply around his neck. He looked positively delighted with himself despite (or was it because of?) his condition. He nodded hello to us all. "Benjamin! My God, man, it's fine to see you!" His wet shoes squealed across the rug as he held out his hand for Benjamin, who stood up to shake it. "I hear you're joining up?"

"No need to discuss that now, Thomas," I said.

"I don't see why bloody not!" Thomas insisted. "It's what everyone is talking about. Even at the mixer tonight, all the girls were wondering which of us boys were off to school and which would join the fun."

"Fun, Thomas?!" Now I was rather angry at my cousin.

Benjamin, though, was having none of it. "Never mind, Agnes, it's perfectly fine," he said. "Yes, Thomas, I signed up today. But I will warn you, those of us who are going do not share your enthusiasm on the matter. It's simply what we feel we've got to do, rather than some sort of game, you know."

"Oh, I know war is hell and all that," Thomas said, flopping down in a chair. "But you can't tell me it isn't also a fantastic adventure. Besides, Fanny Barton asked me first thing tonight if I was joining and I said as soon as I'm old enough, yes, and she danced with me three times! Had my eye on her since heaven knows when, and there she was in my arms again and again tonight. You should have seen the way she looked up at me while we were dancing, too! I don't think that would've happened if I'd whined about peace!"

"I would certainly be looking at you with more affection if you had," came Elizabeth's voice.

Thomas snapped to attention at the sound of his beloved former nanny, and jumped up with a pathetic effort at straightening his sopping jacket. "Elizabeth!" he exclaimed, either ignoring the brusque tone of her comment or failing to register it at all. "So lovely to see you!"

"And you too, Thomas, but I've got to be frank: that was a horrid thing to say when so many of our young men are likely to find themselves in harm's way before long. If this Fanny of yours cares for you only because you're beating the drums of war, perhaps you ought to find another girl to tickle your fancy. I assure you there are plenty of us who would admire you a great deal more if you treated war with the gravity it deserves, my dear."

"She's got that right," I added.

"But it's for you that they're going off to fight, Elizabeth - and I as well if it isn't already over when I turn eighteen," declared Thomas, who was a bit under a year short of that threshold. "And you, and you!" he added to Irene and myself. It's a gentleman's duty, and I shan't shirk it!"

"We are not ungrateful, Thomas, but -"

"I am," Irene interrupted bluntly. "Thomas, do not insist you've got to join in on the horrors of war in our name, or at least not in mine. I never asked for any such thing."

"Nor did I," said Elizabeth. "Thomas, I can only hope should you have to go, that you will understand our point of view when you return. If you return."

"Auntie Elizabeth, what a horrible thing to say!" exclaimed Joy, throwing her arms around her brother. "Of course he's going to come home safe!"

"No one can promise that, I'm afraid," I said as gently as I could. "Thomas, it really is best that you understand what you are cheering for so enthusiastically here."

Joy was crying now. Thomas returned her hug, and then said, "Perhaps they're correct, Joy. I am being flippant. But I must do my part, you know."

"Of course I know!" Joy said. "And we all ought to be more supportive of him for that!"

"Perhaps it's best that we don't discuss it any further for now," Jonathan suggested.

Alexandria, to her eternal credit, voiced her agreement. "Indeed. Joy, Thomas, we ought to get upstairs before we awaken Mother. I assure you, none of us wants that tonight!"

"We never do, do we?" Thomas said. To us he said, "Good night, all. Shall we see you in the morning? Horrible night to be out, after all."

"We were just discussing that," I said. "We'll see."

Elizabeth sat down, still clutching Margaret to her bosom, and as soon as the door was shut behind the youngsters she allowed the tears to flow. "Thomas, what a beautiful little fool he's grown up to be!" she groused. "The way he used to look up to me, how could I fail to teach him one needn't be a warrior just because he's a man?"

"He isn't quite a man yet," Jonathan pointed out, rubbing his wife's back gently in a vain attempt to soothe her. "All too typical of boys his age to think it all sounds like a wonderful adventure."

"It should destroy me if he learns otherwise the hard way," Elizabeth said.

That thought had my eyes welling up with tears as well. I fought them off with a brisk walk to the liquor cabinet, where I poured five cognacs. "We all need this, I think, and then do let's all stay the night. I guarantee Aunt and Uncle would have it no other way with that rain out there." Elizabeth and Irene both attempted to decline, but I was not to be deferred. "You've just fed Margaret and Frank, and you have needs, too!" I prodded.

Elizabeth, her eyes still damp, offered up only token resistance before accepting the drink. Irene lost little time in doing the same. Naturally, Jonathan and Benjamin had no reservations, nor did I. In solidarity with Irene and Elizabeth, I had been drinking little of late, and the liquor was harsh going down. Just as bitter as the conversation had turned, I mused. But I did feel a bit more relaxed as it worked its magic, and it looked to me as though the others did as well.

"Sometimes there is no saving others from themselves, I suppose," Elizabeth said, setting her glass down. "I say, though, Agnes, what is this about spending the night here?"

"It came up while you and Irene were in the other room," I explained. "Who knows how long this rain will go on, and I have to confess I should love to have us all five together for a while longer yet, awake or asleep!"

"It would be nice to spend the night here one last time," Elizabeth said, looking around the parlour where we had spent so many happy hours years before.

"You make that sound so dramatic!" Jonathan said, though he did not look averse to the invitation.

"It is a dramatic time, is it not?" Irene demanded. Taking Benjamin unapologetically by the hand, she went on, "The cold, hard truth is that we may never all be together again. Let us not waste an opportunity to share our time when we have no way of knowing just how precious that time is!"

"I couldn't agree more," I said, and with that I stood up and smoothed my skirt out, and concluding it was too late to ring for a servant, I excused myself to seek out and prepare a second bedroom.

It was a pity, I thought as I hurried up the stairs, that Elizabeth's old room was now occupied by a new boarder; but a night there might just be too poignant in any event. The floor on which my room was located did offer two tiny but unoccupied rooms, a perfect setting given that we would need at least one room for the babies and anywhere from one to three rooms for the adults. The spare rooms were a bit stuffy from disuse, but that was nothing I could not fix by opening the windows just enough to let in a pleasantly moist breeze and the uniquely comforting sound of a rainy night outside and a cosy room inside. I turned on the electric lights in all three rooms, including my own, casting an inviting glow in the darkened hallway; and I returned downstairs.

Irene and Benjamin had, in my absence, abandoned any illusion of keeping their distance from one another, and were standing in a passionate embrace while Elizabeth and Jonathan watched from the couch, all three babies snuggled securely between them. "We're doing our best to give them their bit of space," Elizabeth whispered to me. "Benjamin made some comment about understanding why we all took it so hard that he's joined up, and they were drawn together just like magnets."

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" I asked in an equally low voice.

"Let's get the babies off to bed," I said, gathering Frank up in my arms while Jonathan took Catherine and Elizabeth stood up gingerly to avoid waking Margaret. I attempted to make eye contact with Benjamin or Irene to alert them to where we would be spending the night, but they both had their eyes closed as they enjoyed their private moment. I concluded that Irene knew where my room was and would have little trouble finding us.

The larger of the two little bedrooms had an empty chest of drawers, and the drawers served satisfactorily as makeshift beds for the babies. Miraculously, we got all three of them put down without a whimper - for the moment, at least. Back out in the hallway, I shut the door and said, "Now, you can take the other bedroom for yourselves or, if the mood strikes you..." I grinned and pointed at my bedroom. "Entirely up to the two of you, of course."

Elizabeth looked bemused. "Look at the monster I've created, Jonathan!" she remarked.

"A beautiful monster indeed," he said. He gave his wife an uncertain look, and neither of them offered a response to my invitation.

"Well, my door shall be unlocked, regardless of what you decide," I said, retiring to my room. "Good night."

"But where will Irene and Benjamin sleep?" Jonathan asked. "In the babies' room?"

"Don't be naïve, Jonathan," Elizabeth said. I might have known she, at least, would have guessed as to our sleeping arrangements!

I went into my room and, leaving the door only just ajar, I took my dress off and curled up on my bed in my brassiere and panties, and waited. I neither knew nor cared just what combination of my dearest friends might choose to invade my poorly-guarded privacy; the joy of having us all under one roof for the first time in so long was a pleasure unto itself.

In retrospect, I should like to be able to say I had at least shown some reticence when Irene had told me of her conversation with Benjamin and the suggestion that had come of it. But for better or for worse, I cannot: I had only enthusiasm to offer in return, the edge-of-the-world sensibility that comes with the knowledge that one may well be going off to war having taken over in me as much as in most of the men in our lives, I suppose. In the event, as I waited and wondered and pondered and feared for our futures, I was overcome with the delicious naughtiness that always seemed just around the corner when we were all together. Not hearing Irene or Benjamin on the stair yet (I would later learn they had lingered in the parlour for an intense and rather uncomfortable conversation), I grew impatient with waiting for any of my friends to quench my thirst. And so I sat up and removed my brassiere and, after taking a moment to savour the bliss of setting my breasts free at last, I also made fast work of my panties. After wadding both together and tossing them into a corner, I lay back nude and spread-eagled and looked at the scandalously unlocked door. Had I really grown that uninhibited in these too-short years?