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Demonic Davina or Dawn of the Dead II

George Hardwick III

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George will think Davina has been possessed by a demon and ...

Ref: the original Dawn of the dead thread: viewtopic.php?f=553&t=18845



Dawn of the Dead II


George advises to take a Ferry to cross the Thames rather than dare the dubious span of London Bridge, and then travel down on through Southwark and down Brixton Road, and once arriving at Brixton village turn left and ride on past Herne hill until you find yourself at Dulwich Village. Yes, the same Dulwich of the College for Boys.


It is but a two hour journey that brings one to the chosen retreat of the Earl of Chichester, or that might deliver him upon occasion into London town. The house is a building of some size, in reasonable condition and comfortably furnished. Out the back is the stables, and a summer house that he has settled to become his studio.


The wisps of mist danced around Dulwich House. The eerie silence was broken by the piercing sound of a rooster. The sky was colouring from the dark purple ink of night into the pink of dawn in the sleepy village.




The doorbell, at this hour? George wiped the milk-mustache from his lip and and set down his glass, an expression of concern upon his face. Barefoot and in his nightshirt he crept with candle down the hall...


He had an acute feeling of dejavu.


This time he did not pick up his rapier. Mina, could it be Mina? As he'd done before, he stood in the gloom, the shadows of the hallway seeming darker than ever before, and called out through the door, "Who is it?"



Tag: Davina? -- Or some other nutter out there? Whoop!

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It was quiet.


Like the Grave or Early Morn. Take your pick.


She'd been 'out' all night and now the faint tinges of light crept ever so slowly through the darkness that still hung about the area as Dawn approached. She stopped just to look at The House that stood off to her right. Eyes closed and her dark lashed fanned a face made pale by not enough sleep.


Sleep! Now there was a joke indeed. A long sigh and then a stretch of arms above her dark head before she at last opened her eyes. It was impossible not to notice how blue they were - her best feature so many had said - but for a long time now had been filled with sadness.


Somewhere a rooster crowed. Time to move.


The walk up to the entry was made and when she stood before the doors, one hand reached out to push the bell, she hesitated. 'oh for God's sake!' she admonished herself silently. 'just push the dam thing.'


The sound echoed in the stillness and very soon after a voice called out. His voice.


"Its me."

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A voice, filmy familiar, it's tendrils curling into his ears and tickling the part where comfort resides.


George's hand tightened upon the brass door handle, his brow uncreasing..."Davina?"


Where she stood she might hear the turn of a key in the lock before rattle of the handle and then the door swung inwards into deeper dark. Dark but for the figure of George Hardwick, his skin set golden in the glow of candle.


But she. She was as white as a ghost. The Earls eyes widened as an awful understanding came upon him. He crossed himself... "You... have come to see me. Davina, dear sweet davina, it surely never meant to end like this." How had she died, he did not know, but her spirit had come to see him before she left this mortal earth. A tear rolled down his cheek...


The door rolled open further admitting the phantasm, her eyes eerily blue, so very blue. Had they always been so?

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The rattle of a key in the lock and the slow opening door indicated that at last the wait was over.


A candle held aloft illuminated him and his expression caused her to pause in her greeting as she looked beyond him into the darkness of the house. He had crossed himself and now wept openly before her and she frowned.


"Oh course I would come to see you George." She said tiredly. "And this surprises you? Are we to stand out here then - I'm cold and weary to the very bone." She brushed past him and went inside where she stopped and turned back to face him.


"Well?" She admonished. "Don't just stand there come inside! You look like you've just seen a ghost or something .... " A faint hint of a smile made her cheekbones more prominent and a sudden yawn caused her to cover her mouth and then offer an apology.


"Sorry. But can we not go somewhere I may recline? I seem to remember a rather nice red brocade covered chaise in one of these front rooms."

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Through it all he laughed then, "Even beyond the grave you put me in my place..." and he followed her as she glided upon the feet of an angel down the hall


While he followed her he begun to ramble, perhaps with nerves "I suppose it doesn't surprise me so much really... it would be a greater surprise if Lucas Cole thought to see me before he headed on off. Ha, if he appeared at my door I'd be reaching for rapier again, I can tell you that. But you, you'd not harm me would you, Davina. Would you harm me? I know I caused you hurt." he rubbed at his brow then; life placed choices before one, and there from sprung regret.


She seemed so real, it was eerie. She joked of ghosts. Which was eerier still.


"Ahh... through there." he gestured her though to his private sitting room, ought he take her cloak? Perhaps not. His eyes followed after her as she found the chaise she remembered fondly. Had they drunk tea together once perhaps? Had they discussed the inclement weather and rued the state of the roads. None of it important, and yet it was a memory precious.


She settled, and he watched. As ever, he felt confused in her company, even now, when it hardly mattered any more. "I am glad you came." quietly he spoke, as he stood there holding his candle.

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All this talk of Spirits was making her shiver and she hoped there was or had been a fire recently in whatever room he was taking her.


He spoke of Lucus Cole and she merely looked at him and then gave a shake of her dark head at his question of being harmed by her. "Don't be an ass George." She said as he stepped aside so she could proceed him into the indicated room.


She stopped on the threshold and simple took in the space. Her eyes wandering about and lingering here and there on some object or another. Not much had changed. The said chaise still rested to one side of the mantle in the place where the heat from a fire would warm but not bake.


She shrugged her damp cloak from her shoulders in an easy gesture of one accustomed to having it picked up then moved to do a slow walk before she at last rested upon the chaise. Her dress of some dark fabric clung to her shape and her hair was escaping from the long braid and tiny curls kissed her face and forehead. She gave a sigh and allowed her body to at last relax.


"Its cold. Can we have a fire?" She asked him and drew the fine loden colored shawl that had been tossed artfully up over her shoulders.


"How could I not." She told him then. "Come to you I mean."

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He gave a bark of a laugh then, surprised, as she called him an ass. "Maybe being a ass is all I know?" he replied poorly, there was no doubt several dozen witty sallies that could have been given in reply. But he was caught by surprise. He had not known Davina even knew the word ass.


In a womanly pose she stood there, looking excessively curvaceous with her cloak discarded now - then stepping away from the puddle of fabric she moved to the chaise. Hesitantly George followed, he was still uncertain to what was happening. But, there was progress. Mina, he'd slayed dead again at the doorstep, while this fiancee, dead, or living, was laid in a chilly recline in the comfort of his room.


"Ah, yes of course." he moved to the fire, and picking up the poker pushed at its embers and tossing some tiner upon it it soon enough returned to flame. How long had the process taken? He forgot time entirely for a little while, so that as he turned again he almost wondered if she would be vanished? But no. she had not. She was there. Davina, 'His' Davina. His Davina that he might never have.


He remained there, kneeled by the fire and listened, then asked. "Why me Davina. Was it, because of my title, or the family wealth?" He'd hoped of course, that she'd seen something deeper within him, but self doubt plagued the man, who feared he had no true caliber beyond those things at all.

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Even with her eyes closed she knew how his movements were made, could tell when he knelt and poked the fire, and then turned to look across at her. It was a given that he would ask that question and she would have as well if this had been reversed.


She gave a quiet inward sigh and took some time thinking before she made her reply.


A hiss then a pop as the fire came to life, the ticking of the clock that sat by a side table, the draft that blew about the room even though the windows were shut, a dog barking ....


All these she heard as she lay there wrapped in the wool shawl and then the sound of a shoe as it slipped from her foot to land upon the carpeted floor.


"I waited such a long time for you to ask that George." She said softly. "You had no idea of course and so rightly there can be no hard feelings yet strangely enough I hold them. Shall I tell you a story then? Will you hear my tale of unrequited Love ...."


Her words trailed off and it would be possible for him to have thought she had fallen asleep but then she continued on to add "And how it all ended."


She turned her head then and her eyes opened to look directly at him.

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He could hear in her voice that she'd long since given up. Perhaps that was what pained him now, even more than the sadness as she spoke of an unrequited love story.


A draft from 'somewhere' whispered at a tiny curl near her ear, lobe soft and so innocent. She, so innocent. In his eyes, she'd always be thus.


Breaking his gaze he looked at the fire, "You've told me of your late fiancee... but, never of your love."

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She had figured that he would read things all wrong having already suffered thru so much of it with him so a small smile was flashed and then she looked away once again closing her eyes. Somehow it made things easier.


"On the country my dear Earl I have indeed spoke of him - many times." She replied. "And will so again so it seems." She gave a small 'wave' of one hand at the mention of her first 'fiancee' as if brushing him aside. "That was long ago now and I have lived another Lifetime since."


"I first encounter the second but three years past. New to Court and greener still in its operations! That best describes me and oh how I made much of myself then. Baintree, in his usual show of affection for me, quickly rid that side of his sister and set me on the right Path. Then there was my lady Mother but that is and will not figure in this tale." She could not help the tone of dislike for in truth her mother had been the maker of ill talk.


"Have you any alcohol?" She asked suddenly. "But of course you do. Silly of me. But mayhap you have changed? Given it up?"


Her tone was one of disbelief.

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George grew frustrated, in death she was no more direct than in life. "You said you had waited for me to ask that question, but you do not easily reply." he was none the wiser now than before he'd asked 'why me'.


She seemed to want to talk about the man who'd drowned again - and somebody else she'd met three years ago, and then with distaste for her brother and mother.


George stood, he was about to fetch himself a drink, when she asked after spirits with a sarcastic tone to her voice (disbelieving he had given it up). Which was precisely enough for George to claim higher ground. "Do you purposefully anger me Davina? I have not drunk to such excess as you saw at Brighton since then, though have allowed a glass of wine with dinner, and perhaps lunch also. But I am not the drunkard you take me to be." His voice was taut, his forehead pinched.


"I have never met your Mother nor your Brother, and have no idea of how they form part of your answer, nor to what your answer can mean. If you loved this other, you should have stood firm to him. If you loved him, you should not have wavered when your family spoke against him. Love is not the easy road, yet it is strong, and it's conviction can broaden minds. While I have never met your Mother or Brother, I hold that they would respect a strong stand. If you caved so easily those three years past, then I ask you this: was it ever love at all?"


He felt a bit of an idiot then, as he came to the deduction as he spoke that he'd only ever been a fill in for someone. While he vaguely wondered who she'd fallen for when she'd first come to court, it hardly mattered now did it.

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She was not a Storyteller. That much was clear.


Her musings it seemed had only made him testy and there was frustration in his voice and his rather terse defense of his drinking habits made her smile suddenly.


"Please never change George. Promise me."


She sat up and swung her legs to the side of the chaise closest to the heat from the fire. The hem of her dress still damp about her legs and she disliked the feeling. Her gaze came to settle upon his own face and she took note of his expression and so decided to just simply offer him a short version of her Tale.


"Pour me a drink please - anything but ale or cider - and then come sit. I shall speak clear and to the point and save you more doubts."


She would settle herself in a more comfortable position after removing her shoes and draped the woolen shawl across her legs. A pillow or two placed behind her back and in normal times she might have been taken for someone in recovery from an illness ....


"I added in Baintree and Mother in thought so they do not figure. I cared deeply for him, that boy who was to be my husband." She continued as she waited for her drink. "But Death came and took him afore the ink was dry. I blamed myself for not saving him. Sure that I was to be 'punished'! Then I came to Court and was glad of my freedom. Yet Time did not stay still and so the years have passed."


She sneezed once then twice and swore under her breath which George might have caught if he was paying attention. Another thing so out of character for Davina!


"You will not remember our first encounter I think. But that is forgivable. I saw you standing in the Company of some Gentlemen and I asked who you were. A simple question that did not arouse comments. And then it was easy to keep a watch out for you. Windsor came and .... And all of that business ....."


She pauses to accept her drink.

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Lud, she confused him. George's dark eyes met hers as she told him not to change, and then he shook his head. He'd never understand women, that much was a certainty.


And so he crossed to the drinks cabinet, and fetched up the closest decanter. Whisky, of the Irish variety, he'd picked up a good number of bottles when he'd been there last recess. The glasses clinked as he poured two drinks, and after downing one of them where he stood, he refilled and crossed the space back to Davina.


In the mean time she had moved, and was sitting there all plumped up on cushions; the pinks of her toes peeking through the lacy knit of her shawl. He hesitated for a moment, then sat next to her, and gave her her drink. "Careful, it's strong." Which occurred to him to be a strange thing to say to a ghost. She was... very tangible, tangible as Mina had been, though (thank god) not so hideous. In fact, was that the waft of her perfume? Ah, how the mind played tricks on one.


It was as if something crawled over his shoulders when she talked about the drowned suitor again.


He'd never met that man, but did not like, him mostly because he disliked the undiluted affection that was in Davina's voice. That man, or 'boy' as she fondly called him, had been her great love. That much was plain. It irritated George that he even cared about that detail. It irritated George because it made as little sense to him as his affection for Mina had been.


"I have little doubt that you would have been very happy together." George looked down into his glass, it's contents swaying, softly cupped within the palm of his hand. "But fate rarely follows the path we would desire." then he fell hush again, enough said of that.


But then she was speaking of himself again. A time they had met, before Windsor. His expression opened, and he apologetically shook his head, "I am sorry, I don't..." no he did not remember their first meeting, but he remembered Windsor, vividly. He'd been drenched in grief, and Davina, gentle Davina, had spoken affection for him. He gave the smallest of nods, and murmured, "You lifted my spirits. But I was wounded still. I suppose, to be perfectly honest, I was afraid to feel an attachment again."


He paused, then added, "You know as well as I how loss tears away hopes, dreams, and suddenly all ones plans for the future are but figments." Just like that, the very grandest of plans could vanish into nothing.

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Her eyes watch him as he moved to her request for alcohol, accepted the offered glass, tasted then drank the small measure. He had taken his in one and now had another.


He sat beside her and she moved her legs better to accommodate his person on the chaise then accepted her glass back. At his words of caution gave a small smile before taking a healthy swig, letting her head fall back, and providing him the chance to appreciate her neck and a murmured sigh of pleasure which he could not help but hear.


"It warms all the way down does it not." She quietly said. "I know my 'limitation' so have no fear but then why be cautious - tis just us after all. And I am quite safe. But the idea that you might had ideas brings me pleasure.. We never managed it and when you ..."


She trailed off. No now was not the right time to address his views on matters of the Flesh. It would come in time she knew. So she gave a 'cough' in pretense and wiped at her eyes with a portion of the shawl.


"You think it so?" She asked him in reference to the one that had died. "It would have made me into a bitter old woman if we had been married. He was but a boy disguised as a man George and while I cared for him it was plain that he would never be the one to Lead but Follow. I wanted a husband that was forceful and commanding in his presence but capable of gentle ways and tolerant of his wife's passions." She gave a shrug and drained her glass.


"I thought I had found him not two years' past. But it seemed that Fate had it in mind to be a brotherly affection rather than the other. But I still yearned for Him. I watched as he suffered and so wanted to banish the torment in his Soul - indeed, Prayed for it."


She looked at him steadily wondering at how he could not have already guessed at the person she spoke about.


"Loss. Yes, tis a nasty thing, and oft times we suffer always. But why must it be so?"

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His eyes fasted upon the glitter of gemstone at her lobe. Amethyst? It suited her.


His eyebrow then rose with what she then said, and he met her eyes. His cautions against the drink had not been a warning that he might take advantage of her, but, there it was spoken. Sweet and innocent Davina brought the Earl to smile - then went on to intrigue him all the more with the haste with which she drank. Naturally, upon her cough, he produced yet another of his white handkerchiefs - how many of them had he given her now? "They say it is about pacing oneself." was all he said.


Onwards she continued her story, and George stood corrected that the term 'boy' had not been one of affection. Her late-fiancee was not of the full grown variety of man. He gave a small nod of his head, for understood the reluctance to have to hand-rear another, perhaps this was even part of what he liked of Davina. She was grown, her very maturity (of which she loudly rued) shone with her good sense and trustworthiness. Well, usually sensible. Tonight - tonight? Were she real, were she not, George wondered of the mystery of the woman drinking spirits barefoot on his couch. The woman who spoke onwards, alluding, that he...


No George was not entirely ignorant -- and she spoke so prettily, of things he'd like to believe of himself -- and in this light her skin held a soft glow, and her eyes seemed particularly deep and translucent, while her lips were undiluted carmine.


George discovered himself drawn close to her, almost as if he'd thought to kiss - but catching himself short he gave a smile, "Perhaps it does not always need be so." Here the man pressed his lips to her forehead.

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The kerchief was accepted but she simply allowed it to slip and flutter to her lap where it remained untouched.


Felt his appraisal of her person and then he moved towards her. She remained still. Perfectly. Her eyes never leaving his as she waited for the touch of his lips on hers. It never came.


Instead he placed his lips to her forehead.


Breath held was released and she whispered "So chaste and brotherly. Are you perhaps afraid to go elsewhere? Will it damage you in some fashion?"


She pulled herself away from him but was still close enough that he would feel her breath on his face.


"You missed the mark. Try again. Or shall I take your turn?"


Now her eyes half close and she tilts her head just so ....

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George frowned slightly as the cloth slipped from her grasp - he almost picked it back up for her - but that intensity within her eyes, and the mood she drew him into. This must be feminine witchery. Although she did not advance at all, he found himself slipping under her control, and, it felt pleasant.


As he resisted, Davina then called him out. Afraid? "Ah.." his eyes slid off to the side briefly, then returned to hers with soberness. "I do not know." meanwhile a tribal drum beat within his chest, though it was indeed, more the beat of fear more than those of a predator.


Perhaps she understood his concern, and the vulnerability of the male ego? For Davina then challenged him then with her eyes slipping closed (and seeming less threatening thereby...) The fine line of her jaw was angled so gently, there was surely nothing daunting of this offering of her lips in such trust. With marvel of this unlikely moment, George set his fingertips to lightly rest along the line of her jaw, so this is what it is like.


His professed love lingered on the edges of his mind, but George barred him at this moment. With decision, he leaned in upon her, and his lips found hers. Softly at first, he tasted of their soft rosiness, before his fingers slid down from her jaw to comb into her hair line, his kiss momentarily deepening with possibilities, before he broke apart and looked upon her.


The Earl's eyes were disoriented at that moment.

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She waited. And waited some more. Mere seconds in fact but surly it was longer?


His touch at last to her face made her sigh inwardly. She wanted to open her eyes but refrained as he continued to explore by touch until at last his mouth met hers. His further exploration of her face and then into her hair made her her bare toes curl.


He deepened his kiss then and her lips parted and she ...... Knew he had done this before.


Here was no novice shy and unclear as to what to do! Yet had not made claim to just that?


He pulled back and she opened her eyes slowly drawing level with his. He stared but she swore he did not see her but another.




"Why have you stopped?" She whispered unwilling to break the mood.

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She looked at him in confusion. His withdrawal did not fit the mood.


"A mistake? How so?" She flashed back. "You seek and found the object only to turn me away!" Her manner now as changed as his. "What did you think to find in me - you must have known how I would respond. Indeed, twas I that started." That he had hurt her feelings would be clear.


She had by now sat up with feet firmly on the floor. Her posture was a clear sign to him that she was angry and more.


"What tis this Game you now play George? And why act embarrassed for tis obvious that a kiss and mayhap even more are things you have done before."


The lap robe was tossed aside and she reaches for her stockings. Pulling on them to stretch she then raised her skirt and rolled in onto her right leg then repeats on the left. Her garters came next then her shoes. All the while not a word is spoken.


"I had hoped that you would give me shelter. I was wrong." She said at last sparing him a glance.


She rose and twitched her skirts and tugged at her bodice to make it as presentable as she could. Her hair was beyond repair and so she did not bother. She walked to the window and drew aside the drape.


'The Sun. Like another day." She said softly. "I am a Pilgrim to nowhere and I have arrived."

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"This is no game. " George turned, disturbed heavily. "I am not this man you want me to be, nor am I the deciever you fear lays hidden. I am but myself, a man who cares for you. No, dont say ' like a sister' dont put those words in my mouth. And neither call me a coward, for these tremors I feel are not from fear - if this was fear I feel I would stand up and face it. No, there is something other a-play here.. ."


Davina was putting on her stockings and then garters so very plain about it. He wondered that hed somehow not noticed when shed been peeling them off? I really am blind


"Do not be surprised that I have loved, nor shall I judge you for your own expertise." Davina's lips has been no novice in the art ot the kiss.


"But you are not the lost pilgrim Davina dear, nor would I ever turn you out. Do not paint me so harshly. If I can have but one request of you, it would be that you give me your respect. "

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She stood with her back to him even as he spoke, arms wrapped about her waist as if trying to either keep warm or give comfort. She did not interrupt his monologue and when he was done there was Silence.


How was she to answer? What further words did she need to say or even imply beyond those she had spoke that day at The Tower and just now here in this room?


"The Man I want You to be?" She repeated. "And why have you used that turn of phrase I wonder. I have ever only saw you as George Hardwick no other. After all this Time do you not at last see what has been before you all the while?"


There was no strength behind her words. It had taken up so much of her energy to have even come this far. She must rest and soon.


"You have always had it - my Respect - and much more." She continued. "I am not as 'Worldly" as the credit you give me yet can not claim beyond the shared passion of a kiss."


She turned round at last to face him. He would see her clearly in the stark morning light. See a face well known to him yet different. Her skin was pale and held little color.


To say corpse like would be too harsh yet held some elements of truth. She had bit her lips to bring color into them and yet her eyes remained clear and bright.


"I am tired George. Will you not give me Sanctuary?" She asked.

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She stood with her back to him still, even as she replied. Apparently he was in the wrong, he was deficient in perception, and... and simply put he felt worse and worse.


If he he had her respect already, then it was something else that he actually craved.


He wanted for be trusted, and to have his opinion accepted. Perhaps Mirtel had also respected him then, if respect did not mean those things? There was a part of George had had been RELIEVED when Mirtel was gone, and he did not have her making him doubt himself any more... he loved Mirtel still, but he was grateful not to be undermined anymore.


He looked at Davina's back, with memories of the first time he proposed to her. He'd told her about the danger to Catholics, and that he wanted to protect her - but she had not believed him. That had hurt as much as her rejection of his proposal. Mirtel had not believed him either. These women who would not believe him wore him down - it as bad enough that he was publicly mocked in the house of Lords.


"Then perhaps it is not your Respect I want after all." he managed to say. Finally she turned around. She looked awful. Could he had saved her from this fate? Probably not...


Voice distant now, as he blockaded himself away from care. "Certainly you can stay. I shall go fetch a maid to see you to the guest room, and see to your comfort." George moved to the door, pausing briefly as he reached it and turning - his mouth opening. As though something was upon his tongue. But then he thought better of it, and silently exited.





OOC: Looks like G&D are done, in more ways than one. Thanks for doing the thread with me, I think it was quite productive for an AU We could perhaps have this as a blurry dream for them both maybe? What do you think?

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She looked at him steadily even in her worn out state she knew he had not understood her at all but instead had once again misunderstood.


On a sigh she made to move closer to where he stood one hand stretch out as if on a plea


"Why must you always be thus?" She asked him. "Would you have me beg at your feet? Or some other penance I will oblige if it allows me to reach you."


She reached where he stood but his own withdrawal to wherever he went made her grow silent. But it had to be said. Had to be.


"I loved you. I wanted you for myself. I wanted to have your Life in me. Thats Truth. I said and did all manner of things to gain it. But it seemed that a cross purpose followed like a shadow and no matter what was done or said or tried we never came together. I understand you Love another ..."


Here reference to what she thinks is another female in his life and affection.


"So I gave you up. To Her. This unnamed woman who held fast to you. I could not have won against that George. Even with all your words expressed. What woman could?"


He turned away and spoke of maids and her comfort and then held the door open waiting for her to pass thru. Nothing left but to accept.


She stood quite still and as if he had heard her silent wish turned back ready to speak but no words came then he was gone instead.


Empty space.


She swallowed on a mouth gone dry and a hand went to the place above where her heart rested and she bent forward as if in pain until her knees gave way and she crumpled to the carpet. No sound came from her as she rocked back and forth ....



(Oh no! I want to keep telling the Story!! But thanks so much for starting this and it might be an interesting tie in after recess!)

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"I dare say I shall always be like..." and lifting his hands as though those were the culprits, he breathed an exasperated, "this."


George looked at her then, a vacant-eyed look of bewilderment.


Either due to his obvious lack of artifice in the conversation, or some other motivator, Davina then spoke utterly plainly. George's eyes widened, flared even when she said she wanted to have his babies. No woman had told him that before! The edge of his lip curled a little, the beginnings of a smile, that his lips then pressed firmly away. Dont be a fool George. he told himself (though he'd never managed to heed this advice to himself before...)


He exited the room.


Less than two seconds later he re entered. He must have taken a deep breath meanwhile, for he now held it with a intense look at the lass now knelt in on the floor. "Then marry me damn you woman! Stop being so coy, how many times must a man ask?!" Taking to one a knee himself he took up her hand. "Just shut up and nod, and I shall kiss you and we shall be done with all this to and froing nonsense."

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It was as if she had suddenly become part of a Masque


His returning had gone unnoticed until she felt his presence and looked up to see the man she loved kneeling beside her! He spoke words rushed in delivery as he took hold of one of her hands.


"What?" She mumbled then repeated "What?" As her eyes went wide and she abruptly sat pulling him down slightly. "Marry You - there is no joy in hurting me for I am too easy a target now - but I suppose tis only fair that You retaliate in turn ...."


So unfocused was she and surprised it might be seen that this reaction of hers was to be expected. For after all had she not hurt him with her own words?


"I can take only so much George so I beg of you to please keep the dosage small."


A part of her now registered and grasped at the last words spoken. Had he bid her nod and then he would kiss her? Unsure of his motive still but unwilling to lose she did just that.


Nodded her head once as he had demanded.

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