See disclaimers on chapter one.

Seems Like Old Times
by Skylark

CHAPTER THE THIRD

May 16 1863 through July 1863

Felice awoke to the sight of blue eyes smiling at her.

"What a nice way to wake up," she said with a slight yawn, then blushed redly at the boldness of her remark. She realized that she was holding Serena by the hand and  blushed even more so. Serena smiled slightly and withdrew her hand.

"Good mornin'," she said. "Sleep well?" as though she hadn't stayed all night.

"Yes, I"m fine. I don't hurt at all." 

"Well, good. Le's get you ovah to the corner. Want to see how well you can walk." She helped Felice to sit on the side of the bed, then stand. Over to the corner to use the  pot, then back to bed.

"Any pain anywhere?"

"No." 

"I think if we wrap you up and leave off the poultice, y'll do just fine. Now, how about some breakfast?"

"I can eat in the kitchen if you like."

"Under no circumstances. Wheah evah did you have an idea lak that?" 

"It's what I'm used to, at Field Place."

"Let me remind you, you're not at Field Place now and you will have yo' meals with me, please, wherever we wish-in the dining room, on the verandah or in the garden." 

Felice smiled and a small rumbling noise was heard in the room.

"Well, it sounds like you might be ready."

"More than ready," said the blushing woman.

"It's alright if you eat in the nightgown now, but we'll have to get you yo' clothes sometime".

Felice blushed again, not wanting her beautiful rescuer to know that the clothes she had on the day before were just about all she had.

"I, ah, don't need, ah a lot of things, just a change." 

"Do you not want to go back to the Gates?" 

"No, I will tell them that I, that I am terminating my employment. That I must do." Then, in a rush to admit her lack, she said, " I don't have but a change of skirt and waist and some underthings. I wouldn't miss them, but I would like to get my journals and drawings."

Serena had never lacked for much, but then, she had long ago discarded the lace and frills  of the southern belle and adopted a more mannish apparel that wouldn't have been seemly in "polite" circles. She led a austere life far removed from the lavish opulence that surround-ed her contemporaries. But her lack of ostentation had not blinded her to the needs of others. And now, she suddenly wanted to surround the green-eyed charmer with luxury, luxury which she instinctivley knew the woman wouldn't care for. 

"Come on to breakfast and we'll talk about what to do."

Felice, even more embarrassed than ever, followed Serena into a beautifully appointed breakfast room. Mahogany furniture and snowy linen napery on the table, a set of bone china dishes and silverware, a hunt table with chafing dishes and a steaming coffeepot, things Felice had not  seen at Field Place. Sara came in with a plate of ham and a basket of biscuits. 

"Good morning, Sara," she said smilingly.

"Mornin', Miss Felice, how you pass the night?"

"Just fine."

Abbie followed carrying a tray of fruit, jars of preserves and fried eggs. She served the two some eggs, put bowls of sliced peaches and grapes in front of each and the preserves on the table. Sara followed with slices of ham and gravy. Placing the biscuits on the table, she proceeded to fill in Serena on the activities at Laurel Shoals.

"..and dey was all tied up lak you tol''em. Obed said they stripped that Menzent and painted him up all blue and yellow." Serena gasped and then laughed.

"Menzent was the animal who attacked you, Felice. I guess Pomp thought he needed a finishing touch."

Felice, on her third egg and serving of ham, grinned and remarked, "I hope no one was hurt."

"No'm, and everyone got back here afore midnight, sose ain't nobody the smarter for that little 'citement."

" You come on back and lets Misses eat, girl. Miss Serena, anything else? Miss Felice?" Negative answers 
from both as Felice buttered another biscuit and smeared it with plum preserves.

"Breakfast was delicious, as good as last night. Thank you." 

Abigail beamed with the small compliment and the maids left.

"You've made a friend for life, Felice," remarked Serena.

"Abigail and the rest are so nice, especially you," remarked Felice to the now blushing Serena. She received a raised eyebrow at that.

"Now, about clothes," Serena began, adroitly changing the subject, "Cassia is a fine seamstress and due to my sister-in-law's extravagance, we have bolts and bolts of every type of fabric one can think of. Let us make you a few dresses and things, Felice. At least, something to carry you until you pick up your things from the Gates."

"I can't pay you for anything."

"You don't have to. Really, you will be doin' me a favor, cos the material will rot. Please, let us do this."

"Well, all-right."

Serena led the way down a side hall toward the wing containing storerooms. It was the first real opportunity Felice had had to study her rescuer-the long legs striding smoothly, flat supple arm muscles, unusually broad shoulders for a woman and those gorgeous eyes... Felice lost herself in a daydream of the arms wrapped around  her waist and the full lips burning kisses all over her face, hands stroking her....

"Unhh, oh, I, ah" She had run full face into Serena who had stopped at a door to open it.

"Are you feeling dizzy or something?" asked Serena.

"No, I, I'm sorry, guess I not quite awake," Felice mumbled, stumbling through the door. Serena grabbed her, set her upright and looked at her searchingly.

"I'm fine." 

"Is your ankle bothering you?" 

"No, now come on, let's look at this stuff." Felice had to look away from the intoxication of Serena's presence, the warmth of her hand, the concern in her eyes. 'What is the matter with me' she thought. Serena would never...' She  broke off her musings as she really looked around the room. Serena had not been overstating the extravagance....silks and satins, broadcloths and linens of every hue and color, muslin plain and checked, denims and woolens. Laces, dotted  swiss, dimity and pongee in delicate pastels. One entire wall with scarves, handkerchiefs, undergarments, chemises, drawers. silk stockings. Another wall with exotic robes and unusual looking garments.

"I've not seen this much cloth in a New York fabric shop," she exclaimed, "Why, where did it all come from? You said something about your sister-in-law?" 

"Yes," replied Serena in an amused tone, "Phoebe comes from a very rich family of planters from south of here and wasquite spoiled. When Tory married her, she insisted on a honeymoon to London and Paris, where she apparently bought every thing she saw. You should've seen their wagons when they left for Nawth Calina; this is what they couldn't take. Plus,Tory took her to the Orient twice, that's where the kimonas and silks came from. I don't know where she thought she was wear them or who would make them up. Charleston, I guess. Pick out some broadcloths and muslin for waists and skirts, a silk for two dresses and denim for a coat or two. Do you ride, Felice?"

Felice glanced at her.

"Yes, some."

"Well, ahh, both of my brothers' riding habits from their youths are still here, one might fit you, if you don't mind wearing male clothing," said Serena apprehensively. "We might could go riding together." Felice smiled at the rather bashful tone Serena took, not expecting this very self-asuured woman to act that way.

Serena continued "I've found it to be more comfortable to wear mens' habits while riding and walking in the woods."

Felice touched Serena's hand.

"That will be just fine. I was used to wear my brother's clothes when I accompanied my father on his trips. Walking in the woods is a favorite activity of mine, but I couldn't persuade the Gates children to ever accompany me. They are.."

" lazy lak Mrs. Gates." 

Felice smiled her agreement. She ran her hand over one of the bolts of silk, wondering if Serena's skin would feel as soft. 'I've got to quit imagining things' she thought to her-self. She went over to the shelves with the broadcloths, choosing a rich green heavyweight, a lighter green in a more summer weight, dark brown denim, then a cream muslin, celestial blue silk, a watered silk in old gold and one of the more exotic silks in a pattern of birds and trees on a dark green background.

"I got carried away, better put this one...." 

"No, y'all look ... very becoming in it. We'll make up a ball gown for you," Serena quickly said, turning away as though to inspect some fabric. 'You will be breathtakingly beautiful' she thought as a vision of Felice in a gown filled her mind.

"Here, take this bleached linen for some waists, too." 

They placed the fabrics on a small table and left the room.

"Ah'll have Pomp carry them to the sewing room and you can pick out some patterns."

Felice leaned against the wall, suddenly tired from standing. Serena closed the door, glanced at the wan face and swept her up in her arms. 

"Here, what..." Their faces were suddenly close, a chain between sapphire and emerald drawing them even closer. Felice swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.

"I'm all right, just a little tired's, all."

"Ah uh, more than a little. Is your side or ankle hurting?"

"Not much."

"We'll fix you a fresh poultice while you rest and have some refeshment." She strode down the hall with her small package, calling for Sara. 

Felice rested her head into Serena's neck, feeling again the strong sense of security from the day before. She'd not felt need,desire like this, not even with Faith. She couldn't explain it. 'Just live with it and go on' she thought. Sara came out of a storeroom, took one look at the two of them and opened her mouth. Serena forestalled her, requesting peppermint tea, more yarrow and a tray of fruit and cheese. 

She ran off and Serena opened the door of the back room, stepped in and softly set the little governess down on the bed. She brushed her hair back from her face, telling her to rest until she got back. She silently closed the door and gave a great sigh. The attraction was becoming stronger and her heart more demanding. Setting her jaw, she resolved to keep a distance from Felice, the child was too loving and gentle for a bloody handed ex-pirate.

Serena's sexual experience was vast but she'd never fallen in love, leaving before attraction became love, firmly hiding affection in a stony cave, denying it. 'She couldn't love me, anyway.' Sara suddenly appeared in the hall with a tray and Serena gave herself a mental shake. 'No seduction. I'm too dark, too violent for her.'

"Sara, fix a poultice for Miss Felice and serve her the tray. I'll be back shortly."

Toward the front of the house she went, searching for Cassia. She gave her brief instructions to come to the back room, then tracked Pomp down and requested he bring the fabrics. She strode out to the garden and her favorite place to wrestle with her demon blackness, now kept deep in the cave before facing Felice again. She came back to a room full of fabrics and pattern books with three very animated maids fussing over Felice. The governess was sipping a cup of tea, but she immediately brightened on seeing Serena.  

"Serena, you'd think they were making new clothes for themselves, not some stranger", she said.

"Well, it's been a spell since they've had anyone to do for. Are you feeling some better?"

"Yes, a lot." 

"Rest until dinnertime, then. There some things I need to check on."

With that, she swept out of the room and left them. The remainder of the day was spent with the fabrics and pattern books. As were several more days until Felice had, for her, a substantial new wardrobe and was fully recovered from her injuries. She was soon walking easily and spent much time in the extensive gardens, sketching the shrubs and wild things that lived there. 

When not in the gardens, she could be found in the cookhouse or back rooms with Abigail or Sara, telling them stories or, more important to her, listening to their tales of Miss Serena and her brothers as children, the Colonel, their father or the first Pappas to come  to Carolina, the sailor. She heard how a tall blue-eyed Greek with crow-black hair arrived in Charleston harbor in 1806 as a stoway on a French merchant ship and proceeded to amass a fortune, some said by piracy, others, by the respectable practice of selling cotton to the British, buying rum and spices in the West Indies, selling them to New England privateers, making trips around the Horn to the Far East for silks, tea, opium, and lumber, bringing them into Charleston, picking up bales of pink flamingo skins and trading them for Madeira and fine Spanish and Portogese wines and brandies. The young man was a wizard with rapier and knife and had developed a fighting style of his own, mixing la savate and English boxing  with peculiarly flamboyant waves of the hand, which he said he learned in the Orient.

He was Serena's grandfather and had retired from the sea and bought vast amounts of lowland forests and swamps. He it was who had built the first house and set the gardens, establishing himself as a respectable planter. The domain he carved from the wilderness was handed to his son, the Colonel, upon his marriage and he lived to see the first grandchild,  Tory, born. The Colonel kept the tradition of trade alive until the name of Pappas was known from Halifax to Rio. The word "pirate" was whispered, for how else could so much wealth flow into a family's coffers except by dishonest means? But, it was unjustified as the Colonel was a shrewd and canny businessman.

As for Miss Serena herself, there were many tales, how she had taken up the family  business with a flair, then disappeared several months after her father had been killed, along with a crew of twenty and the clipper Argonaut. Tales filtered back to Charleston of a tall black haired sea captain, tales of capture and battle on the open seas and the Spanish Main. Prize ships and passengers disappearing only to be found again in European ports with stories of a black demon ship appearing from nowhere, capturing them with uncanny ease, stripping them of valuables and cargo, and dropping them in London or Lisbon, a blue-eyed woman pirate who fought with the fury of the devil and strength and power of ten ordinary men, one who utilized la savate and had a master's skill with the rapier.

It was Serena, of course, in disguise, all Charleston believed. Passengers, particularly children, the elderly and women were never harmed. Some women whispered of romance under the Caribbean moon by a charming and beautiful brunette with unusual blue eyes, but that was only old rumor. Several years later, she reappeared in Charleston harbor on the Argonaut with a dozen prize ships, loaded with exotic goods, gems and specie from Spanish and French colonies in the Caribbean, Oriental silks, teak, mahogany, rum, sugar-a fortune the likes of which Charleston had never seen. 

There were more whispers when she took over Camellia Court, furnishing it in grand style, priceless antiques from Europe, paintings, statuary and tapestries from Belgium and Holland, dinner services from Dresden and England. She had broadened her horizons and obtained jades, chinas and ivory from China and the Orient. All these stories and tales Felice drank in eagerly, thirsting for any thing about Serena.

Days turned into weeks and Serena stayed longer at the Court than any could remember. She and Felice spent much time together, the older woman showing Felice fighting techniques with knife and whip, fencing together with rapiers, the art of la savate, noiseless stalking and observation, teaching her about the many medicinal plants in the herb garden and woods.

Long walks they took, to hidden waterfalls and clear bubbling springs, bathing together in the refreshing coolness, canoeing far back into the swamps, where she showed Felice colonies of ironheads and blue cranes, long-legged white wading birds with feathery crests, snake birds on cypress knees drying their wings and flocks of raucous parakeets, gaudy in feathers of green with blue wings and tails, a yellow head and orange mask. She showed her where the red wolf had a den and the pups inside, where swamp bears had scraped out honey from a fallen tree, where the nonpareil and swamp canary lived, where the log-god had excavated holes in the pines. They harvested bayberries and elderberries for medicines, blackberries for preserves and their leaves for poultices and teas, white pine bark for coughs, St. Peterswort and Marsh St. Johnswort for a variety of ills.

The obligatory visit to Field Place had been paid early on, Felice riding in style on  her own bay mare, Tympani, given to her by Serena. Cass had worked her magic on one of Linus'  habits, altering it to fit her more slender figure- a bottle-green coat, white waist, buff breeches with a broad-brimmed straw hat and brown top boots. Serena, in her customary black habit, rode the great palomino, Argo. There was great surprise as they rode up to the Place.

It was amusing to Felice to witness the scornful Lina Gates dissolve into a fawning, flattering minion with the approach of Serena, who was bored; what was less amusing was the lecherous expression on Phileas's oily face. Felice said her goodbyes to the children, who had not missed her and was leaving the room to pick up her possessions. Phileas puffed out his skinny chest and began to insist he accompany her. A glance of blue ice silenced him and a flush suffused his countenance. He then said for Felice to join him in the library when she finished. One scared peep at Serena from Felice and Serena said she would wait in the library with him. Shortly thereafter, Felice came dragging a battered valise and two packages wrapped in brown paper. Phileas attempted to hint Serena away but Felice forestalled him.

She reached her hand and said "Good-bye, Mr. Gates, I hope my endeavors with your children were satisfactory." He gave a sick smile and rubbed his hands together.

"We won't be able to find another governess now. Don't you think..."

At that, Serena broke in, "Ah think it's time for us to be leaving, Mr, Gates. If y'all will pay Felice her wages, she'd appreicate it." She smiled threateningly.

"Serena", came a little whisper from Felice, which earned her an arched eyebrow. Gates huffed and harrumphed, but another shot of blue ice and he walked over to a rolltopped desk, pulling out a drawer and removing a strongbox. He counted out some coins and handed them to Felice. An "Ahem" and more coins, a sigh and still more. Felice thanked him, Serena smiled sweetly and the pair left the room and proceeded down the hall to the front door.

The butler sullenly opened the door and they walked out into bright sunshine with a grateful sigh. Serena tied the valise on Argo and helped Felice put her packages in saddlebags. A groom stood holding both horses' reins, but before they could mount, a young black slave came pelting around the house, ran up to Felice, hugged her and whispered something in her ear. Felice gave her a gentle smile, returned the hug and proceeded to mount Tympani, astride. The groom and the maid gave a gasp, Serena kneed Argo and the pair cantered away. 

"Well, that went better than I thought it would. I think you scared him to death, Serena. That was a very intimidating glare. Thank you for protecting me. I was a little scared." 

"At least you received part of the recompense due you. What did that maid want?" 

"Just to say good-bye, good luck. She was the only one there who seemed to like me," Felice said wistfully.

Serena gave no reply, eyeing the sad little face narrowly. Felice had blossomed like the camellias in the short time she had been at the Court and Serena could not imagine anyone not loving the little governess, as kind and sweet a person that you would ever want to meet. She had become a part of the household and a trusted friend. Everyone from Abigail to the  field hands worshipped her, particularly Isiah, who adored her and made himself her special slave. He had an aptitude for drawing and could be found at Felice's feet when she was in the gardens sketching. Serena humored him, going so far as to give him crayons and paper. As for herself, her attraction to the woman was fast becoming a distraction. 

"Serena, Serena, are you alright?" she heard from a distance.

She looked around to find Felice knee to knee with her and peering in concern at her. The chain snapped up and their faces drew close. Felice could smell the sharp orange fragrance and the aroma of leather that was uniquely Serena.

"I"m sorry. What did you say?"

"I was wondering where you'd like to go? It's too early to ride back to the Court."

"Don't you want to put up your clothes and things?"

"No, that won't take any time and it's too nice a day. What about it?" 

"Come on, then," said Serena as she wheeled Argo to the left and headed up a narrow dirt path, with Felice close behind.

Their way led through a woods of longleaf pine mixed with locust and tupelo, up to the top and along the crest where a vista of cultivated fields to the east and miles of bottomland westward met their eyes. It was midsummer and heavy hot air created small mirages in the distance. In front of them stretched a meadow of sweet grass with shrubby plants and one beetree in the middle. Except for a lone mockbird and muted buzzing of Junebugs, it was quite silent. They dismounted and loosed both horses to graze on the sweet leaf bushes. Serena took  a canteen and a small pouch from Argo's saddlebag and led the way to the top of the crest where they sat in the shade of an oak sharing the canteen and peaches that were in the pouch.

Felice gazed down the meadow, then at Serena who had stripped off her black riding coat and stretched her long frame out. Her breasts were silhouetted through the thin linen shirt and upthrust as she crossed her arms behind her head. Felice caught her breath at the sight and her groin throbbed with ache. She wondered briefly what those breasts might feel like.. the sweet heaviness, the soft skin, a nipple hardening under her fingers. As a schoolgirl, she'd conceived a girl's passion for one of the older students at boarding school, but nothing had come of it.

In her final year, one of the other students and herself had become quite friendly, even to the point of hesitant touches and embraces and one magic weekend they had shared at Faith's home when their passion rose with exploration of their bodies. With a mix of embarrassment and fear, they had touched and kissed, but she had no throb or ache as she did now. She loosely clasped her hands around her knees and rested her cheek on them, glancing over at Serena, then closing her eyes.

As if she had felt Felice's eyes, Serena looked over at her friend, at first with a smile then in concern. 

"Felice, are you feeling alright? Y'all are very flushed, all red in the face. Here, drink some water. It'll help you cool off."

Felice took the canteen from Serena, too embarrassed not to. She looked away from her down the meadow at the myriad of Sleepy Orange butterflies swarming over the wildflowers.

"I'm fine. Just thinking." 

Serena rolled over on her side and propped her head up. "What about?" she asked in that rich low voice that could send sparks shooting into Felice's heart. 

'What do you say now, dummy? How wonderful it would be to love your breasts?' She suddenly saw herself and Serena, as through a foggy window, slowly drying clear. But it wasn't right, somehow. Serena was sitting propped on a rock, sunlight gilding her right cheek, coppery metal on her shoulder and over her breasts fastened over a formfitting brown leather tunic with a short skirt. Instead of her Bowie knife, a sword hilt peeped over her right shoulder and on her otherwise bare legs, were oddly made black leather boots. She watched herself climbing up the hill toward Serena, but she was wearing an orange-red waist with blue trim and a short wraparound skirt of the same color.

"Felice, do you hear me? Are you...?" came Serena's voice, sharper now with a touch of urgency in it.

She felt a hand shaking her shoulder and looking up, she saw Serena kneeling next to her. A link of the jeweled chain broke and eyes searched each other's soul.

Felice stirred and said "Oh, I was sort of daydreaming. When you were, ah, what sort of outfit did you wear when you were,ah, when you were trading in the Caribbean?"

"You mean, when I was supposedly being a pirate?" 

"Well, were you? A pirate, I mean. Abigail has told me all kinds of stories.. about you and your brothers, the Colonel, about how you disappeared after he, when he died. She said there were all sorts of rumors, but she never knew for certain. Right before you touched me, I saw us. Like in a vision. You probably think I'm crazy, the heat's fried my brain," the governess said dejectedly.

"No, you mean something like a dream?" queried Serena.

"Well, no, I just saw us but we didn't have these clothes on. We were wearing costumes or something and you had armor on and a different sword, no Bowie knife."

Serena said "One thing, y'all don't wear any armor at sea. It'd rust. I carried a saber and pistol, though. And Ah really wasn't a pirate, well, if we sighted an English vessel, IAh was."  

"Why just English?" asked Felice.

Serena glanced at her, sat up and gazed off towards the swamps. Stone blocks slid down her face and her eyes went inward.

"The Colonel's killer was the son of an English earl, Viscount Marlington they called him. He was visiting relatives for a year or so, to see what it was like to live among the savages", Serena began the story. 

"Savages?" said Felice.

"Ah uh, if you weren't born on a estate in Sussex or Berkshire, didn't live in London for the season each year and so forth, you were a savage, according to his Lordship. He was just a wild, spoiled boy, rich and arrogant. He thought he was a gamester, but really couldn't gamble well and... Uh, he got drunk one night at one of Charleston's taverns and challenged all the men to a game of dice. It was said they tried to stop him but no one could. Then he challenged them to play vingt et un, a French game, somewhat like poker. The Colonel was the only one who knew how to play it. So, it was just the two of them and his Lordship was losing money. He got drunker and finally accused the Colonel of cheating and slapped him in the face. One of the bystanders swore the Colonel did everything to ignore him , to brush it off, but the stupid boy wouldn't listen." 

"According to witnesses, the Viscount pulled a gun, issued a challenge-a duel to the death,  called the Colonel a coward and shot at him. Before he could answer, before he could draw his own gun, the bullet smashed his chest. When his body was brought back to the Court, that was the first thing I saw---blood all over him, wide staring eyes, black powder burns on his white shirt, I can't stop seeing him..."

"Stop, Serena. Don't relive it. It hurts too much." 

Serena looked at her, dropped her head and said quietly, " Never could tell anybody, never wanted to, 'til now. Y'all are the only one I've ever told. Not even Abigail." 

Felice whispered softly, "Thank you".

"I was overwhelmed with revenge, a burning to get even with English snobs and the world, I guess," Serena continued. I wouldn't let any of my men hurt or abuse the women and children, we just took their cargos and sometimes a prize ship. After a while, the blood got too much." Serena rolled over on her back again. 'I can't tell her about all the women I...'

Felice, carefully keeping her eyes on a Cloudless Giant Sulfur busily harvesting nectar, said "Did you have to fight a lot?"

"No, a shot over the bows was usually enough. Eventually it was seeing the fear in their eyes, watching a headless body gush blood on the deck, some sailor's arm dropping off, it all got too much. So, once I garnered a couple of fortunes, I came back. Battles aren't pretty, but what was worse was how the people looked at me." With that, Serena turned over and fell silent. She waited for revilement, revulsion from her friend with some trepidation, fearing that knowing of the gore, the violence she had wreaked, the mindless drive to control, the  seductions she wanted to forget, could drive her away. A gentle touch on her shoulder and she looked into Felice's sympathetic eyes.

"You've changed, you're different now. Look at how you help Sara and Isiah and the rest. Whatever made you stop the killing, it made you a new person, better, stronger. It took away your need for revenge." They gazed deep in each other's eyes, breaking yet another link in the jeweled chain.

After a long stillness, Serena drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. She pointed off to the swamps and said "Our supplies of medicines are getting low. I harvest some in there. Bayberry, St. Peterswort, Marsh St. Johnswort. It'll take a couple of days and you have to camp. Could be dangerous, with Federal patrols, runaway slaves, guerillas. Want to come?" Felice beamed.

"I can't wait."

"Come on, then. It's near dinnertime. We can gather some gear and leave tomorrow." With that, she arose gracefully and reached her hand to the governess, pulling her up. Drawing the two horses to her with a soft whistle, the pair mounted up and headed back to the Court.

The preparations for the little expedition were quick-two shovels, buckets, scythes, hatchet and axe, cooking and eating utensils, bedrolls, oilskin, sulfur matches, extra knives and  ammunition. Abigail fixed a box of food and early the next morning saw Obediah loading a  wagon with a flat bottomed boat, the supplies and a large package for dinner. They waved goodbye to Pomp and Abigail and drove off with Joshua. The plan was for Joshua to return in a week to pick them up.

A sharp knock on the door startled Mel who was drowsily imagining her grandmother on a camping trip in the lowland swamps. 

"Miss Melinda, does y'all want dinner up heah?" said Pandora, who had stuck her head in the door. The two of them stirred and Mel twisted toward the maid.

"Yes, is it almost dinnertime?" 

Jan slid off the couch and stretched mightily. She was looking at the other journals when she heard what Pandora said.

"Miss Mel, what'd y'all do with the honey jar? Wadn't on the breakfas' tray. And Ah don' see it up heah." 

Brown eyebrows flicked up and green eyes sharpened.

"Ah didn' see any honey jar, 'Dora. You must not've brought it up heah."

"Ah knows it was on the tray," Pandora remonstrated, "Ah put it there."

"Well, w'ill find it later," said Mel trying to push Pandora toward the door and waggling her brows up and down, trying not to let Jan see her. Pandora was oblivious to Mel's signals as she looked around Mel's body for the jar. Mel didn't need to be concerned; Jan's eyes were flickering over every place a little jar could hide. She slid a gaze over the second shelf of books, noticing that two were sticking out slightly. A flashing grin was immediately wiped off and angelic innocence covered the beautiful features. Mel was trying to hurry Pandora out the door while desperately thinking of a way to distract her lover. She closed the door, Jan took a long step toward the bookcase, reached over, Mel gave a sigh, turned around to see Jan holding a little jar full of golden liquid and...grinning.

"This what you guys 're lookin' for?" she said guilelessly.

Mel gritted her teeth, sighed again and admitted it.

"Yes, lemme give to Pandora."

"Aw, not yet." 

"Why, what do you want with it?" 

"You'll see," as she took a step toward her. Mel backed up and promptly fell on the couch.

"Ah hah, right where I want'cha."

With a wicked glint in the emerald eyes, she leaped on the couch and spraddled her legs over Mel's hips. Bending down, she slowly unbuttoned the blue silken robe and uncovered Mel's gorgeous body. That body always took her breath away. Her eyes darkened as she felt desire rushing through her blood, an ache building inside her, her heart beginning to pound. She gripped her knees into Mel's waist and squeezed firmly. Mel gave a gasp and tightened her hand on the cushion. She was incredibly aroused with just that bit of contact.

Jan swirled a spoon in the little jar and held it over Mel's lips, dribbling tiny dots around them. A little drop in the hollow between the two lips and as Mel started to open her mouth, a liberal dollop on the tongue. She then bent and ever so softly kissed Mel, running her tongue lightly on top of Mel's. Both sets of lips and tongues were soon sticky with honey and Mel proceeded to kiss all of it off Jan's lips. A light stroke over Mel's breast with an otherwise unoccupied, then it slid away as Mel lurched up and wrapped long fingers around her beloved's slim waist. Pulling her down, they kissed again.

"Gods, Mel" breathed Jan. She reared back, breaking the contact and the spoon appeared again, dripping amber dots up between Mel's full breasts. Jan glanced up to see Mel's eyes widen slightly and her head shifting up and down as she watched the spoon on its journey around her chest. 

A large drop in the hollow of the throat-"One drop there."

The spoon hovered over the left collar bone and began a little trip westward, dribbling its golden cargo all the way to Mel's right shoulder, a rhythmic chant following each speck-

"One drop, two drop, three drop four, five drop, six drop, seven drop more." Mel snickered as she heard the childhood ditty, then glanced downward as the spoon curved and began depositing a circular pattern of gold on her porcelain breast in a spiral, ever smaller up to the nipple when it finally dropped a small golden globe on its very peak.

"Can't neglect Miss Lonesome over there, now, can we?" Mel's breathing was getting heavier and she bit her lower lip as Jan painted her other breast in like fashion.

She settled herself on her lover's slick stomach and proceeded to feast. Back and forth from one golden breast to the other, cleaning, licking, suckling Mel's aching nipples, leaning up to draw her sweetened tongue over Mel's lips again. Groans and gasps were the only sounds for a good while silken skin slid over curves and hollows. Jan finally leaned back and commenced painting again, this time down in long lines radiating from the shiny  breasts toward Mel's hips. A swirl around the navel and more cleaning. Mel could manage only heaving sighs.

A whispered plea amid the labored pantings, "More".

The reply, "Not yet". Jan's eyes traveled up to Mel's face and she smiled softly. The gleaming sapphire was shuttered, a forearm covered the brow and a lower lip had impossibly white teeth  sunk into it. 

"Mel, look at me," came a gentle whisper. When Mel opened her eyes, all she could see was a red-gold crown.

"Janice, darlin'.."

"Yess?" came a muffled reply and two beams of emerald popped up. Mel was caught in the vision  of her beloved's face smeared with glistening honey. Jan propped herself on one arm and the spoon magically appeared, dripping amber. Playing at "artist", she swirled the spoon over the plane of Mel's abdomen. Patterns and lines, bold and hair fine, decorated the canvas and the cleaning process began again, with barely supressed groans emitting between clenched teeth. By now, Mel was shuddering. The thoughts and images running rampant through her head were chaotic and very erotic. Where Jan had dreamed this up, she couldn't begin to imagine. Jealously, she wondered if any of her former lovers had taught her and she gritted her teeth at that. Jan felt the slight tension in Mel's body and reared back, saying huskily, "Mel, are you OK with this? Are you alright?"

A powerful shiver ran through Mel's body.

"Please, Jan, cain't take much more" she hissed.

"Yeah you can." Back with the hovering spoon dousing a golden curtain. Studying her handiwork, Jan cocked her head and breathed "Oh yeah!" She was powerfully aroused herself at the sight of Mel's body shiny and glistening in the beams of sunlight peeking through the blinds.

'Put a lid on it, Covington,' she told herself, 'this is for Mel.'

Mel's eyes flew open and she bent her head to stare down her long torso. Jan's head was resting on her abdomen. She reached down and began a hypnotic caressing of the reddish crown, sliding down to the shell-like ear. The head stilled, then bobbed ever so slightly as a shudder rippled through the prone body. 

"Mel, I love you so much", she whispered.

She then reared back and came the spoon again. Mel felt an ever so delicate pressure which sent particles of heat flying through her limbs. Throwing her head back, she swallowed the scream begging for exit. Jan poured an overflowing spoonful of amber in a spiral around and over Mel's thighs. She looked up briefly to see sapphire eyes growing as big as saucers and nostrils quivering. 

"Sweet...Jesus...Jan...what are...you...doin'?" she managed to gasp out between pants.

"Lovin' you", came the reply.

A groan and Mel threw her head back as a tongue suddenly swept into her ticklingly. Strong, rhythmic sweeps up one side, tissue soft. Pleasure shocks rocketed out to Mel's extremities, red fountains of desire flared in her mind. Great sweeping strokes combined with delicate taps were sending burning spirals throughout Mel's body. Counterpoints of sensations slowly drove all conscious thought from Mel's mind. 

Shudders racked her body, then she tightened like an overstretched guitar string. Multi-colored fountains burst behind her eyes, gold, red, purple, blue, sparkles of silver showering down. Waves of pleasure swept her away. Jan was not long following, rippling at first, then bursting into white-hot convulsions that rocketed her to the ends of the universe. Eventually, she returned. Inching up Mel's body, she molded herself around her beloved, both still trembling. Tucking her head tightly into Mel's neck, she gave her a gentle kiss and they both drifted in a light doze. Then, it was Mel's turn.

Later, twined in each other's arms, they whispered softly, endearments and thanks.

"Ah seem to be sticking to you in the oddest of places, Jan. This honey stuff is all over us." 

"Yeah, next time we oughtta add some cinnamon. Spice it up a bit, dontcha think?"

"Janice Covington..." Her beloved was about to retort when they heard Pandora at the door.

"Miss Mel, it's about dinnatime. Y'all mos' ready?"

"Give us about ten minutes, 'Dora." 

"Yes'm, Miss Mel", she responded as she went down the stairs. 'Boy, them two jest never quits. Umhum'.

Meanwhile, back in the study, 'them two' stripped down and highstepped to the bathroom. Plenty of hot water and many towels later found both bodies honey-free, clean and glowing. 

"Jus' in time. Ah hear Pandora coming up the stairs. Come on," urged Mel. 

Vigorously toweling her hair, Jan asked "Do you think she minds hauling meals up here?"

"Jan, for the longest time after Daddy died, 'Dora would cook everything she could just to make me eat. She was so afraid I was gonna dry up and blow away. I reckon she's so happy we've got you to  look out for, I don't think she'd mind carrying trays out to the barn, if we took a notion to eat in there."

"I don't think eatin' food is what we'd be doin' in the barn, Miss Pappas," remarked Jan, with a wiggle of eyebrow.

"You, come on." They embraced and kissed. 

"Yes'm."

Pandora slowly climbed up the stairs bearing a heavily loaded tray. She gave a soft knock on the study door but received no answer. It was empty.  

"They mus' be in the bafroom. Lemme put this on the table."

With one hand, she hauled the small table away from the couch and laid a snowy tablecloth over it. The tray was placed on top, then next flatware and napkins. 'Not that Miss Wolf uses them', remembering smeary grease stains on a particular pair of khakis. One of the spoons fell off the table. She gave a grunt, knelt down to pick it up and was momentarily blinded by the reflection of something
shiny under the couch. It was a silver spoon in a almost empty little jar, her honey jar, under the couch. 'What the tarnation them two been up to now?' As she straightened back up, she glanced down at the couch and the telltale honey smears.

'My goo'ness.'

By the time they got back to the study, Pandora had set the side table and filled it with steaming platters and bowls. Crispy fried green tomatoes and okra, creamy fried corn, fresh snap beans with sliced bell pepper and onions, cole slaw, a plate of bread n'butter pickles, onions and chow chow and a basket filled with wedges of cornbread. Jan bent over the cornbread and inhaled deeply.

"Smells delicious, Pandora."

"Just enjoy, Miss Wolf." With that, she left them to devour their meal. The food disappeared quickly, washed down with ice tea. Their meal ended with hot peach cobbler. Wiping her mouth, Jan sighed mightily, pushed back her chair and drained her third glass of tea.

"Hurry up, Mel. I want to find out about the jewel chest."

"Janice, theah are times Ah wonder if you even taste yo' food, it disappears so quick."

"Yes, ma'm I taste it", she leered, "just like I taste you."

With that rejoinder, she plopped down on the couch, waving Mel over. Blushing profusely, Mel lowered herself beside Jan.

"Now, where were we?" she asked. Jan took up her reading, skipping ahead a month.

July 30, 1863 "I awoke this morning earlier than usual. There seemed to be some disquiet, some disturbance.  Something seemed to be out of place, the usual bustle and noises from the cookhouse were stilled. It seemed there was a stirring in the stable area, but then all was quiet again. The heat this early in the morning seemed more oppressive than usual. I drifted back ...."

When Felice had performed her morning ablutions and came downstairs, she was surprised not to see Serena  awaiting her. It had become a ritual-Serena, an early riser, would be out to the workers before dawn, issuing instructions and discussing what projects to tackle next. There was a group of about fifty of the young men and several of the more vigorous middleage hands that Serena had molded into a very well disciplined unit-highly skilled in scouting and tracking, all of them marksmen. All of the South knew of Mosby's Rangers and it was on their exploits and stories that Serena had modeled her little group. They it were who had foiled Menzent's raid on Laurel Shoals. She utilised them as lookouts for the Court, innocent slaves sent on errands into Charleston to pick up news and information, and for her midnight exploits, the ones of  which Felice was ignorant and Serena intended to keep it that way. 

Serena would spend several hours drilling herself and her group in combat tactics and arms use, then return to the great house to breakfast with Felice and plan the rest of the day. This day, she never came. Felice breakfasted in solitary splendor, Abigail explaining that Serena was called away and would be gone the rest of the day. There had not a longer day in her life, as was that night and the following day. 

She waited patiently until the next morning, with no sign of Serena, walking back and forth on the verandah, listlessly strolling in the garden. She felt very alone and out of place, like some intruder.

'What's the matter with you, she's not been away for more than a day,and you're missing her that much?  Straighten up. She'd only brush you off, raise the eyebrow, slide a cool blue eye over you, any number of expressions, curl her lip in a sardonic grin at your worry, don't you know?'

She felt the same disquiet as from that prior morning, a foreboding. Dinner was eaten in a desultory fashion, and the rest of the day she sat on the verandah. In the distance, she saw a darker smudge against the haze  and realized it was plumes of dust from horses' hooves. Her heart began pounding as she waited for a rider to come into view.

Serena slowed Argo's gait to a trot as she approached the tree-lined ride to the Court. She was tired, hungry and most of all, angry and disgusted with the results of this latest mission. What was worse, she found she had been thinking about Felice all the time she was away and now, could barely hold herself in check. For the first time in years, she had someone to come home to, a reason to come back. She fantasized jumping off Argo, grabbing Felice in her arms and kissing her passionately.

'Do that and she'll jump the next packet for N'Yawk' she thought to herself. 

Forcing her mind from that very pleasant scene, she thought back on the string of misfortune that had dogged this last outing.. first running into an advance Federal patrol who had no business being lost in the swamps, next the pregnant slave who had to begin her labor in the skiff while they were supposed  to be gliding silently to an awaiting boat, then the small band of deserters who put up a better fight than expected, resulting in some rare injuries.

All-in-all, too long from home. Where had that come from? For so long a time, the Court had not been home, rather a place on her seemingly endless search, but now..with Felice waiting...she spurred Argo into an easy lope, grinning happily at the thought of seeing Felice.

Felice had walked down the few stone steps at the front of the house and stood watching Serena come riding up. She was struck immediately by her disheveled appearance...Serena who was usually so clean, the brown riding habit was sprinkled with a dusty powder, her pants legs from the knee down were wrinkled and streaked with mud, one boot had three parallel scratches on it, blood and dirt streaked the beautiful face and worst of all, a bloodstained bandage peeked out from the cuff of her coat.

Serena had dismounted and was leaning against Argo with a somewhat silly grin on her dirtied face. The two looked at one another, then Felice sprang forward, a barrage of questions pouring out of her mouth. 

"You're hurt. Where have you been? How did you get hurt? What happened to your clothes? How did you get your boot scratched?" 

She grasped the fingers of the injured hand to check the wound, but Serena pulled it roughly away. The granite blocks  slid down in place. A mask appeared replacing the gentler expression there an instant earlier.

"It's not but a scratch, in the swamps, a deserter with a knife, I fell in the creek, I scared a fox" came the answers. "Now quit hovering over me like a mother hen", she said as Isaih came running out to take Argo.

"I'll be alright." 

She unsteadily made her way into the house and up the stairs, missing the desolate hurt in Felice' eyes and the soft little whisper "I was just worried about you." The eyes suddenly sheened with unshed tears and she took herself off to the gardens.

Came dinnertime and neither made an appearance. Abigail took a tray to Serena, expecting find Felice by her side, talking away, but no Felice. She hadn't come to the dining room either. Abbie finally found her in the fartherest corner, sitting under the largest camellia bush, forlorn and sad.

"Chile, been lookin' all ovah fo' you. Doan' you want sum dinna'?"

Felice smiled gently and said "No, I'm not much hungry. I'll just sit out here awhile."

The cook looked somewhat grimly at the woebegone expression.

"Did Miss Serena hu't yo' feelins?" she asked.

"No, I'll be alright."

Abbie stood looking at her for a minute, then stalked off. Serena waited all that day and most of the night for her friend  to come checking on her. No Felice.

'Guess that wasn't the brightest way to treat her, brushing her off like that. You never could stand anybody hovering  over you, could you? Wouldn't hurt to let her, now, would it? You 'bout ready to roll her on the porch, what's the  matter with you? Wonder what she's doin'?'

Thus Serena spending a sleepless night as did Felice. Came the next afternoon, Serena had had it. 

'Reckon I should apologize, see how's she doin''

She went downstairs, seeking her in all the usual places-library, verandah, the gardens. She finally ran her to earth  in the kitchen, where she was sitting, talking quietly to Sara and Abigail. Serena felt a flash of annoyance-'she can visit with them, but not me.'

"Afternoon, all. How are you doin', Sara? Abbie? Felice, I came to see if you would like to take a walk in the garden, please?"

"Alright."

The pair left the kitchen as Sara commented, "Miss Serena shoa mus'like Miss Felice, Abigail."

The cook grunted, telling her to get back to shelling peas as she watched Serena and Felice out the window.

They walked quietly around the side of the great house and turned into one of the shell walkways leading to the rose garden. The rose bushes were in peak bloom, reds of all shades, white, golden yellows and a few of almost black velvet.  They approached the sundial on its fluted pillar of pink marble and drank in the heady perfume-the rich tea and fruity essence of Old Blush and Duchesse de Brabrant, Sombreuil and countless unnamed others, cuttings the Colonel had brought from France, China, Persia and the Mediterranean. Felice buried her face in an Old Blush bush, inhaling deeply.

Serena glanced at her and suddenly blurted out "Are you scared of me?"

Felice's head jerked up. She met Serena's look squarely, tilting her face slightly.

"No, why, what would make you think such?" 

Not the answer Serena expected and it caught her offguard. A nonpareil warbled overhead as she looked down the opposing  walk.

"It just seemed like y've been avoiding me. Haven't been to see me or anything." 

Thus Serena's apology said in a tone of hurt pride.

Felice came to her, saying "Well, you did say you didn't want a mother hen hovering over you, didn't you? I wouldn't want you to think I was doin' that."

This was uttered quite brightly, but Felice was anything but bright feeling inside.

'So, Miss Self-sufficent got her feelings hurt.'

She was sorry for that, but Serena was going to have to realize that Felice had a say in the friendship. IF it was to  go further. Felice definitely wanted it to go further, thus, Serena would have to come to terms with her own pride  and black anger. And accept a very determined little person who wasn't going to be shoved aside.

An eyebrow rose and Serena looked at Felice closely. No one had stood up to her before and it startled her into saying "Nobody ever bothered about me..." 

The supper bell rang and the two stood silently, the jeweled chain stretching an interminable distance.

"You are going to have to decide the difference between somebody 'bothering about you' or someone worrying that you might have gone and gotten yourself killed or seriously hurt." 

With that, she walked back to the house, leaving a surprised and chastened Serena standing at the sundial. She finally stirred and strode briskly behind the obviously provoked governess. Unlike previous meals, supper was  a silent affair, each absorbed in their own thoughts.

As had become their habit, they retired to the library. Early on, it had been the first room Serena had shown Felice. It was the largest and most open of the Court's downstairs rooms, rectangular with ceiling-to-floor windows covered with burgundy drapes and a granite fireplace. An Axminster carpet covered the heart pine floor.

A secretaire with glass front top and chair sat along one wall and filled bookcases braced the fireplace. More bookcases lined the farther wall. In one corner sat a large globe on a stand, a portfolio of Audubon's prints on an easel and a map table next to it. Wing chairs upholstered in wine-red silk sat on either side of the  fireplace and a square library table filled with journals and papers next to the secretaire.  

Two couches filled the remaining space. A collection of artifacts from Greece, Turkey and Egypt was displayed on open shelves lining the remaining wall. The Colonel had been assiduous in searching the lands of his ancestors for traces of the ancients and now the Court boasted a museum-quality exhibit.

A quiet descended on the pair, Serena busy with correspondence and Felice abstractedly searching the lower shelves for a book. She sat in the furtherest chair, opening the rather large tome. She finally closed it, not having read a word. A soft "Good night" as she got up and went to the door. 

Serena arose and took two long steps, reaching the door first. Their eyes met and something flickered in Serena's briefly. She stepped back, opening the door. Felice nodded her head, gave a small smile and left the room. Once upstairs and in her room, she changed into a nightgown and brushed her reddish blonde hair.

'Why hadn't Serena said something? What could have made her so aloof? It was the same way she had acted shortly after  I came. Like she didn't know how to act around me. I guess she's tired of having me around, having to stay at the Court to much.' 

She gave a small sigh.

'Can't just up and leave now. With Federal troops prowling around more and more, if I was found by deserters, well...  Think, Felice, what could you do? Walk to Charleston? I wonder what Serena was trying to say, if..'

She wandered over to the window overlooking the moonlit garden and stuck her head out. The air was redolent of gardenia, roses, mint and honeysuckle. She could recognize the separate scents and drank them in greedily, trying to fill her being with the fresh sweetness, erasing all her doubts and uncertainty. A solitary mockbird called monotonously and off  in the fields, she could hear a melancholy chuck-wills-widow.

'Do you know how lonesome that sounds, bird? Just like I feel.' 

Another small sigh. A small knot sat on top of her heart and the glorious green eyes sheened with tears. She turned from the window, gliding over to the bed, getting in.

'I just can't stand her not talking to me, not knowing what she's thinking, wondering..'The tears fell in earnest, silvering her face, dropping saltily on her lips.

Serena stood silently on the other side of the door, listening intently to the creaks as Felice padded around the room. Heard the whispers to the moon and bird. The faint sighs, then the protest of springs as Felice sat on the bed, finally, the stifled weeping and her heart clenched.

'You caused that. You, pirate, don't bother about me I can take care of myself, you are making her cry by your selfishness. Why don't you tell you love her? You know you have for a long time now. Scared?'

The thoughts and endless argument roiled in her head.

'Yes I'm scared. Scared she'll leave and I'll be lost forever. How do you know she'll leave? I just know. Don't lie to yourself. You don't know and she may not.' 

Back and forth, she argued with herself. One hand upraised to tap on the door but refrained.

'Don't cry, my sweet, I can't stand to hear you cry.'

A silent plea heart to heart. 

'Someday, I'll tell you, I'll give you my heart, my all. I can't now. Not tonight.'

After what seemed an eternity, she went slowly to her own room for yet another sleepless night.

Mel sniffled softly and wiped a tiny tear from her eye. Her beloved covered her other hand with her own brown and muscular one.

"Hey, you know they're gonna work through this. Come on. Don't cry."

"Yeah, ah know, they both hurtin' so much."

"I feel like I could be the one writin', not my aunt. Tha's just like I felt. I thought I.., that we would never.." and to her horror, she herself started to tear up. 

"Here, quit that," she said, giving Mel another squeeze, "le's get up and move around some. Ain't it 'bout suppertime?" 

As if on cue,'Dora's knock fell on the door. 

"Miss Mel, 'long 'bout suppahtime."

They rolled off the couch and Mel walked to the door. 

"Dora, we'll come downstairs. We need to move around some. Down in a minute." 

"Yes'm."

Jan suddenly went for the door.

"I haven't seen Argo all day. She's gonna think I'm dead. Come on." 

The pair walked briskly down the middle staircase to the high-ceilinged entry hall. Argo came bounding toward them, almost deafening them with loud barking.

"Hey, girl, miss Mommy? Huh? 'Dora take good care of yah?"

Argo barked some more and got a thorough petting from both his mistresses.

"You can come upstairs with us after supper, okay, girl?"

Jan looked up as 'Dora approached them.

"Did Argo do alright, 'Dora?"

"Yes'm, she good comp'ny. Just sat in the kitchen and gnawed a bone. Now, go on with your huggin' and get supper." 

Jan grinned, hugged her again and went into the dining room. Mel was already seated and fixing her tea. 'Dora had put down a platter of fried trout and hush puppies and was catching her up on the outside world's happenings, mainly war news and what trouble her least one had got himself into at school. Jan sat opposite to Mel, loaded her plate with trout, the gently steaming patty pan squash, sliced onions and hush puppies. She emptied half the bowl  of piccalilli over the trout and peppered the whole works, then dug in. 

"'Dora, where did you get this trout?" she asked. 

"My cousin gone fishin' up towards Hickory las' week. Brought back a mess of 'em", came Pandora's voice from the kitchen.

"Well, they sure are good. Tell him thank you for us." 

"Ah will." 

For a short while, the only sounds were Mel's muted clinking of knife and fork and Jan's crunching of the trout.  Jan placed an onion slice on the squash and said to Mel, "You know we haven't read about the jewels. Wonder where that comes in?"

Mel patted her lips with a napkin, cocked her head and responded "Ah'm sure ah don't know. Ah've been tryin' to think if Daddy ever said anything about a little chest or trunks. Ah'm figurin' now he didn't know."

"How could he not know?" 

"Well, ah do know that they moved back here from Charleston 'round '94, he was eight years old, so maybe his momma hadn't told him. She's gotta be the one who brought all this here."

About then, Pandora brought in their dessert, crumbly pound cake heaped with strawberries. All conversation stopped. Jan drained a final cup of coffee, stood and helped Mel up. They embraced and Jan licked the strawberry essence from Mel's lips.

"Ummm, tastes about as good as you do."

"Janice, somebody's gonna hear." For answer, Jan kissed her soundly. 

"Don't care if they hear and see."

"You want to find out about the jewels, then stop that and come on." 

"Okay, but you wait 'til tonight."

They went back upstairs to brush teeth and wash. Mel walked back to the study, squatted down to look at the portraits  again, noticing details missed previously. The glowing look of love the two shared, how  their hands were entwined, bodies touching.

'Ah hope you were blessed as Ah am. If Felicity was anything like Janice, Gran, you're one of the luckiest women's ever lived.'

Jan came in then and tiptoed over to Mel's side. She squezed her shoulder gently saying "You alright, Mel?"

"Yeah, you know, you can tell theah're in love. Jus' look."

Both had the same thought.

'Just like you look at me.'

They smiled at another and Jan extended her hand to Mel, pulling her up. Embracing, they held each other briefly, but desperately.

"Can't imagine living without you."

A hard embrace and kiss. Mel broke off, somewhat breathless.

"The jewel chest."

"Yeah."

To Be Continued...

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