Love, regardless. (For Niceandbrutal and slut_in_white)

It happened so fast. Suddenly she was one step closer, and then she was on her toes, and then... Arthur closed his eyes as her lips, impossibly soft and warm, were gently pressed to his. Taken unawares, he only started to respond right before she pulled away from him. When she did, Arthur almost grew dizzy from the sensation of that intimate moment. The blush and look of uncertainty on her face melted him.

"That was really..." What? Lovely? Nice? The greatest sensation I've ever felt? Arthur found that words failed him. And so he responded the only way he knew how. He leaned in and embraced her before kissing her again. The kiss was about as frivolous as the one she'd given him, but he held it much longer, enjoying the proximity of her, the feel of her body pressed against him, her warmth and softness awakening something primal in him. There was a stirring in his loins, and he knew that spelled trouble.

He reluctantly pulled away from her lips, but he held her in his arms still, his eyes locked on hers. "That's what I think of you kissing me, Maggie," he said with a thick voice and a smile. "But if we continue this before wedlock it might spell trouble. We are better than the sum of our urges and instincts, sweet Maggie. And I am afraid I really must go unless we end up doing something we shall both regret later on." There was a pronounced bulge in his pants and a flush in his face, and his voice was wavering. But he had to be strong.

"So... I will leave now. But i just want to do one final thing before departing." And he kissed her again.

At first, Maggie thought her worst fears were coming true. Arthur struggled to explain how he felt after her kiss, and she feared he was trying to say how inappropriate it was, how uncomfortable she'd made him.

Only, then he was gathering her into his arms and kissing her again, and all was right in the world. Maggie sighed softly against his lips, willingly melting into him. She couldn't help the smile that appeared on her face when he pulled away and observed that they should stop lest they go too much further. Her heart did a flip in her chest at the realization that he desired her so much. Of course, it made sense; he would not be so keen on marrying her if he did not desire her, but knowing it and witnessing it like this - his deepening voice, his quickening breaths, the subtle but visible bulge - was entirely different. The way he looked at her alone stole her breath away. Suddenly, she found herself thinking that their marriage couldn't come soon enough. She had always thought that she would marry whichever man could care for her and her mother, regardless of how she felt about him. She could not count the number of ways she had been blessed with Arthur. He was kind, selfless, gentle, and she wanted him in a way she had honestly never experienced before.

His goodbye kiss was slightly more heated than the last; the kiss itself was still chaste, but he held her tightly against him in a way that expressed his desire quite fully. She could feel the bulge in his loins pressing against her stomach, and she gasped, clinging harder to him. When they parted this time, both were panting, and she could feel her body trying to convince her mind that no one would know if she led him off into her bedroom...

The thought that knocked her back into her senses was the realization that her rickety old bed might not be capable of withstanding such activities. And that wasn't even considering the fact that it was old, lumpy and hard - not exactly the sort of comfort Arthur was used to. Their first time together should be somewhere comfortable, and when they had all the time in the world to explore each other, rather than here, waiting for Maggie's mother to return. She smiled ruefully at Arthur and pulled gently out of his arms.

"I apologize. I didn't realize my kiss would make the prospect of your leaving so much more difficult for the both of us." She caught one of his hands and brought it up to her lips, pressing a kiss to his palm. "For the sake of our sanities, until we are wed, perhaps we should refrain... And I do think that the longer you linger here, the less I will be able to convince myself of the wisdom of waiting until we are wed to... um..." She paused, clearing her throat and blushing, "...continue what we have started..."

And so, their common sense prevailed. He had witnessed a change in the fervour with which Maggie had kissed him, and it was plain to see for the both of them that they desired each other. She was constantly flushed, her breath was more hectic, and her voice had taken on a huskier tone. And Arthur wondered a little if her squirmy restlessness was a sign too. But that would have to wait for another time. As it was, her kiss on his hand brought him gently down, as did her apology.

"Maggie, there is nothing to apologise for. That was in fact the most wonderful sensation I've ever experienced. And I can't wait to, as you say, continue what we started."

He was blushing furiously as well, but he was smiling like he'd never smiled before. He picked up her hand and mirrored her actions by giving it a gentle but loving kiss. Then he looked her in the eye and said softly: "Until tomorrow then, sweet Maggie. We will attend to the grim business of Tommy's funeral arrangements and then it's off to aunt Florence."

Then he hesitated for just one moment. Tipping his hat to her seemed an absurd notion now, yet he felt he had to make one final gestur before leaving. No kiss on the mouth, that was the way to unbridled passion. They had kissed each other's hands. Repeating that was an exercise in unimaginativeness. So he grasped her shoulders with his hands and leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "I love you Maggie. Until tomorrow, then." And he reluctantly left.

Arriving home, he knew there'd be trouble. Their butler told him his father was waiting for him in the lounge, and when Arthur entered he saw his father's cheeks were flushed and he was scowling. Not a good sign. Arthur braced himself for questioning. He was not disappointed.

His father started in a calm manner. "Arthur. Fiona's father was here some hours ago. She came home distraught. Her father told me you verbally abused her and cavorted with women of questionable moral. Then our driver told a different story about being shot and losing control of the carriage before running down and killing a child, a child you tried to help. He had clearly been shot, that much can be substantiated. Arthur, what in God's name happened today, and why are you so late?"

Arthur started spinning a web of half-truths, truths, and lies. He told about the events leading up to the running down of little Tommy and how he'd tried to save the little boy's life. He substituted Maggie's name with that of one Mrs. Jane Thomas and told of how she courageously had been by his side as Tommy breathed his last. He told of Tommy's mom and her sorrow, then he slowly started to talk about how the Conways should pay for Tommy's burial and how Mrs. Thomas had had a rough life and how such a courageous and resourceful woman deserved better than life had allotted her. It was a tall order, and Arthur needed to use all his powers of persuasion to convince his father to set up a fund for Maggie's mom and to pay for Tommy's funeral. In the process he also announced his engagement with Fiona was off, that he didn't want a wife so thoroughly self-absorbed. It evolved into an argument.

His father first didn't want to pay for anything. Arthur countered by telling that he had already used the Conway family name and that doing nothing would lower their status. He told of the police constable taking his statement and his name, of all the witnesses hearing his name. The noble name of Conway would take a beating if they did nothing to repair and reward, was Arthur's argument. And in the end, his father relented.

Then followed an argument about breaking off his engagement with Fiona. Arthur was adamant and could not be swayed, not even when his father threw Arthur's argument back in his face about the name Conway taking a beating. "If anyone questions me about why I broke it off, I will tell the truth: She is an egotistical spoiled child not caring at all about anyone but herself," Arthur said, a hint of anger and disappointment in his voice.

It was late at night when Arthur finally convinced his father. He went to bed utterly exhausted but jubilant. His plan was slowly coming into fruition.

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His dreams were filled with images of him and Maggie together in bed. She kissed him and then she started touching him in... private places, as he touched her in equally private but different looking places. He had no real grasp on what these private parts looked like, but it was a lovely feeling as their legs entwined and they started moving and-
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Arthur woke up ensnared in his sheets, a light sheen of sweat covering his body. There was a distinct stickiness in his groin and he soon found out that he'd spent himself in his sleep. There was a copious amount of semen in his bedclothes. Maggie's face hovered before his inner eye, and he smiled despite the discomfort he felt.

He washed and shaved and emerged like new, refreshed. At the breakfast table, his father was subdued while his mother gave Arthur the cold shoulder. His brother sat and watched the proceedings, mirth in his eyes. Arthur didn't much care. He took his father aside and asked for money for the burial proceedings as well as some token of Mrs. Thomas' fund. After a renewed but thankfully brief argument, Arthur got what he asked for. As he left, he casually announced: "Don't expect me for dinner. I'm going to visit aunt Florence today." And then he was off.

When he arrived at Whitechapel, he noticed a nervous energy that had been absent the day before. There were more policemen present than yesterday, and one of them approached him as he left the cab to ask him what he was doing here. Arthur explained that he had business here. Then the policeman told about the grisly murder of a lady of the night last night. Arthur's stomach turned to ice. Maggie's mother had been out last night! He thanjed the constable and assured him he could take care of himself before rushing to the entrance of Maggie's house. He pounded on the door, anxious for Maggie to open it.

Maggie had spent the night and the following morning in a haze of happiness. Her mother had come home last night roaring drunk, but in a good mood. Maggie had put her to bed and then gone to bed herself, where she dreamed of Arthur and those lovely kisses...

Maggie's mother was still sleeping off her hang-over, while Maggie sat comfortably by the fire in their little hearth, mending one of her mother's dresses which had been torn during a particularly "active" encounter with a client. She nearly jumped out of her skin at the banging on the door; if their guest didn't stop, she was concerned that he was going to knock the door clean out of its frame.

Maggie hadn't been out since the murder, so she had no idea what had happened. It wasn't until she opened the door and saw Arthur standing there, his face ashen with concern, that she even realized anything was wrong. "Arthur!" She reached up and put her hands on his shoulders. "Goodness, are you alright? You look like you're about to be sick."

"Arthur! Goodness, are you alright? You look like you're about to be sick."

Arthur was so glad to see her that he just embraced her and held her. He knew she didn't walk the streets at night, but did the police know? Maybe not. And so, he needed to be absolutely sure she and her mother were safe. "Oh thank God you're safe!" he said as he gently rocked her in his arms. "Did your mother come home safe and sound tonight? I only ask because there's been a murder nearby."

The policeman had supplied Arthur with some details. It had been a clean kill, and there had been a post mortem incision and removal of organs. The policeman seemed shocked, and Arthur didn't blame him.

"A murder?!" Maggie repeated, her jaw dropping open. She looked over Arthur's shoulder into the street beyond, where she noted a few more policemen than usual. "Oh, Arthur, do you know who?"

She ushered him into the house, frowning. "Yes, yes my mother came home safe last night. She's still sleeping off her celebration.," Maggie explained. She keep looked surreptitiously at him. She knew she should be focusing on the sad, terrifying new he had brought with him, but instead, she couldn't stop the slowly growing glow that began to take hold of her, out of joy at his simply presence.

A surge of relief washed through Arthur on hearing that Maggie's mother was unharmed. True, he didn't much care for the woman as such, but he didn't wish her any harm. And Maggie loved her. That meant that Arthur cared for her as well. It was a simple eqyation. What made her happy was important to him.

"I'm afraid the constable didn't supply me with the victim's personal details. But the nature of the killing was extraordinary, according to him."

Arthur gently seized Maggie by her shoulders and embraced her in a hug, reveling again in the vibrancy of this slender young woman with her fierce nature and heart of gold. Just holding her drained his fear, stress and uncertainties away. He was looking forward to the day when he could do it all day every day if he so desired.

"I had to lie to my father today," Arthur told her gently and matter-of-factly. "I told of how your mother helped me during Tommy's final moments and how her lot in life had made her do things she didn't deserve to do." A wry chuckle, then: "I had to threaten with the family name being dragged through the mud if he didn't set her up in a way more befitting of her, that is your, bravery. Now you know. The circles I live and move in care more about prestige than they do about real people."

Slowly letting her go, he gave her a determined look, tinged with love. "I also managed to secure money for Tommy's funeral and a little something for his mother to live off for a period of time. We should go and visit her. I want that sad and grim business out of the way as soon as possible. Then we go to aunt Florence to begin your new life."

Maggie and Arthur spent their entire morning with Martha. Arthur, for his part, did most of the talking to the undertaker - Martha kept breaking down into tears, and Magge spent the majority of the morning simply soothing the poor woman.

Maggie found the whole ordeal utterly exhausting. Not only was it tiring to spend several hours holding poor Martha while she cried, but Maggie's own emotions continued to fight an exhausting tug-of-war between joy and sadness; obviously she was distraught over Tommy's death and over Martha's sadness, but every time she looked at Arthur, she felt her heart exploding with happiness. How had she been so lucky as to draw the attention of someone so kind? It wasn't every man who would spend half a day organizing the funeral of a little boy he never knew. Simply giving Martha the money would have been charity enough to draw the respect of most people, but Maggie knew that Arthur had more money than he could count. That he was spending time here, doing all of this grim work, said infinitely more about him than the money he spent on it.

Once it was over, Maggie and Arthur walked back out into the sunlight, arm in arm, leaning on each other.

"That... was difficult," Maggie observed softly, breathing deeply. She smiled wanly up at him. "Do you think we might have time to rest a bit before we go to see Lady Florence? I don't think I'm up for being interrogated by your aunt at this moment."

Dealing with Martha and the undertakers was a grim business. The poor woman kept breaking down, but who could really blame her? No matter how many children she had, she loved them all. And Tommy sounded like a sweet child, by all accounts. Poor little Annie was at home as well, watching the proceedings in silence, her pale face a grim testament to the sorrow she felt.

All in all, Arthur was happy when they could leave them behind after many a pathetic 'thank you' from Martha. If Maggie hadn't been there and lifted his spirit, Arthur would have fled, leaving the bereaved mother behind. He turned to Maggie and told her in a soft voice: "I couldn't have done this without you. If you hadn't been there to take care of Martha I would have fled. I love your idea of resting before we go to see aunt Florence." He looked her over. She was wearing a plain but well cared for dress. He hated assessing her like that, but there were places she would not be allowed to enter looking like that. What to do?

Then it occured to him. "Maggie, pack whatever belongings you want to bring with you to aunt Florence. I'll be back here in an hour. I will have a lovely surprise for you." He kissed her on both cheeks and set off, looking back to see her puzzled face. He grinned widely and just told her: "trust me!"

He hailed a cab and paid the driver to rent it for the rest of the day. Then he sped off to Fortnum and Mason to shop one of their exquisite picnic baskets. He also managed to send off a telegram to his aunt, asking her to prepare a guest bedroom and that he needed a big favour of her. Then he returned to Whitechapel and stopped outside Maggie's home.

"Maggie, it is barely past noon and it is a lovely day," he said as she came out to meet him. "Would you do me the honour of joining me in a picnic in the country?"

Maggie didn't have many belongings. It only took her a few minutes to pack what she needed to go to Lady Florence's. She woke her mother to tell her she was leaving, which took another few minutes of goodbyes. Her mother still didn't seem quite sold on the idea that Arthur was truly in love with Maggie, and warned her daughter to be cautious. It was such times that Maggie was reminded that, despite her surly exterior, her mother really did care for her. She promised her mother that she would be careful, and then put the still-hungover woman back to bed.

She then spent the remaining three quarters of an hour pacing the living room in some combination of nerves and excitement. She had no idea what Arthur had planned, but she was certain that she would love it. Every creak and groan of the house made her look up, thinking that Arthur was walking up the front steps. She was about ready to explode with her excitement when she finally heard the knock on her door.

She opened it with a broad smile, holding her patched-up bag full of nearly everything she owned. Before she could even say hello, Arthur invited her out with him to a picnic in the country.

She couldn't stop the wide, happy smile that broke on her face in response. "A picnic? That sounds so lovely!" She took his offered arm and the two of them got into the taxi. Once inside, Maggie found herwelf blushing a little. "I... I've never been to a picnic before." She looked out the window at the passing city streets. She'd barely ever even left Whitechapel. She already had no idea where she was. "Where are we going?"

He wasn't really surprised that she hadn't been on a picnic before. It was becoming more and more clear to him that Whitechapel was the extent of her world. Arthur smiled. He had so much to show her! He had traveled some, and he was looking forward to re-discover the world through her eyes. Starting off with a picnic was a gentle way to do so.

"We're going a few miles outside of London, dearest. The county of Surrey, to be precise. There are some nice hills and meadows for us to enjoy the sight of as we eat a well deserved lunch."

The trip took more than an hour, and Arthur could but smile indulgently at the sight of Maggie's face as they left London behind and passed through rural areas. This was no in way a wilderness. It was, instead, a carefully cared for agrarian landscape, formed by generations of farmers. It was a beautiful landscape, embodying the phrase about England being the 'green and pleasant land'.

They stopped at an inn, and Arthur made sure Maggie's belongings were securely locked in the cab's trunk as he told the driver to wait for them here. He then pointed to a stand of tall trees on a hill and told her: "That's our dining room, Maggie." He'd been there before with his parents, and the view was outstanding. You could see London off in the distance, and large parts of Greater london and Surrey.

Lugging the rather large picnic basket, he set off with Maggie up the hill. Their progress was slow as Arthur pointed out various flowers to her, as well as birds and squirrels. It was a safe area, the most savage creatures about being badgers and foxes. When they reached the top of the hill, Arthur smiled as he heard Maggie gasp.

"Quite a view, isn't it?" he asked her.

Maggie was utterly taken by the beauty of thir surroundings. The country was lovely, and she remained aware for much of the trip of Arthur's constant smile. She knew that his pleasure came from her apparent happiness, and she found herself wondering, yet again, what she had done to deserve him.

They reached the top of the hill and Maggie stood very still, simply stating around. London lined the horizon to her right, and the gently rolling farmland continued as far as the eye could see to her left. There was a grand oak tree which they stood under at the top of the hill. She barely even registered that Arthur was moving until he touched her hand and she looked back at him. Her face looked up in a smile when she saw that he'd spread the blanket out and was sitting on it. She took a seat next to him and slipped her hand into his.

"Arthur, love... This is beautiful. I don't know what to say." There was a selection of food spread across the blanket before them - cold meats, various cheeses, fresh fruits and vegetables, and some freshly baked bread with butter. She licked her lips. "Mmm.." She blushed - she hadn't intended to make such an evident noise of pleasure at the sight of the food. She was beginning to think that she might always find this sort of pleasure in good food; but she would certainly need to contain her expressions of it, lest she embarrass herself on front of Arthur's family and peers. She took a small cube of cheese and popped it into her mouth, chewing happily. "You spoil me," she accused playfully, squeezing his hand.

"You spoil me"

The look on her face as she said so told him all he needed to know. She seemed, if not overwhelmed by all the new sensations, then at least giddy. Arthur felt much the same way she looked. To have such a rare flower smile at him like she did was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Arthur smiled back and squeezed her strong little hand.

"Of course I spoil you. I love you."

And there it was again, only this time it wasn't awkward or embarassing to say it. He knew she felt the same way, and that made him strong and assured in his declaration of love. There was still a flush in his cheeks and a twinkle in his eyes as he said it though, but that was only because of the sheer strength of his emotions and the joy of her company. Arthur lost himself a little in her eyes a little, and he felt himself pulled towards her, unable to resist the gravitational pull of her radiant personality and beauty. Before he knew what he was doing, his lips were on hers again. The soft murmur of the trees as a gentle wind swept through the leaves and the bumblebees buzzing as they flitted to and fro was a most pleasant soundtrack as he kissed her long and tenderly.

Then, a rudely humorous interruption. His stomach growled and she started laughing, joined by him an instant later. Smiling sheepishly, Arthur said: "Food, then?" He took the opportunity to learn Maggie the rudimentary rules of picnics in polite society. Although the rules of conduct for a picnic were somewhat laxer than at formal dinner parties, there were rules that were to be observed. Arthur found it stifling to have to put a damper on the mood by instructing like he did now, but the thought of spending the rest of life with Maggie galvanized him. After he had given a quick lecture (and being encouraged by his eager and beautiful student) they ate, and Arthur was again reminded why Fortnum and Mason were so renowned.

They ate in comfortable silence, exchanging smiles and comments about the quality of the food and drink. Arthur had saved a treat for later, and he told Maggie with a mysterious smile to leave some room for dessert.

Maggie listened eagerly to Arthur's instructions as he taught her the proper way to eat in this more relaxed environment. She noticed, too, that he seemed uncomfortable somehow - like he felt somehow that these explanations should have felt inherently unpleasant to her somehow. Nothing could have been further from the truth. He was patient with her, his voice always gentle, his explanations lacking any condescension while still managing to prove informative in all the ways she required. In fact, she found his method of teaching so effective that she began to see patterns in the expected behaviour, and started guessing - mostly correctly - at the appropriate behaviours given what he had told her previously.

The food was exceptional, as Maggie was finding it always was with Arthur. She still felt unusually energetic and well-fed after last night's meal, and this lunch was only serving to make her feel more so. She felt like a giddy energy was forever bubbling under the surface, and she found herself expressing her positive emotions more readily than ever before. She laughed more easily, smiled more easily, and she displayed an energy in everything she did that hadn't been there before. There was a lightness to her step that made her look almost as though she were dancing when she walked. When she listened her Arthur speak, her expressions were more animated and lively, and when she spoke, she found she was starting to talk with her hands, a habit she was certain she would need to stop if she was to avoid embarrassing herself in proper company, though Arthur himself seemed to find it endearing. Though Maggie was beginning to suspect that he would find any action she took to be endearing, regardless of what it was, simply by the fact that the action was hers.

She couldn't help the coy little smile that spread across her lips at Arthur's mysterious mention of dessert. "You aren't going to tell me what it is, are you?" she asked, though, from her tone, it sounded more like a statement than a question. "Is this a test of my patience?" she asked innocently, her tone thick with mirth. "Are you testing me to see if I can maintain these manners in the face of such a tempting surprise?"

A subtle change had manifested itself in Maggie. She smiled more readily and she laughed more readily than when he'd first met her. The only expression he found that fit was that she was blossoming. He spent a few moments indulging in just watching her after he teased her about the secret dessert. Her smile and her tone of voice was at the same time priceless and a bit disconcerting. Disconcerting because his heart lurched by the mere sentiments she displayed. And the thought struck him: "I'm responsible for her joyous mood." It was at the same time a sobering and humbling thought, as well as a source of immense pride and joy.

"She is your responsibility now. Her ups and her downs and her wellbeing, it is your responsibility. Are you ready for that? Are you man enough to be there for her no matter what? What if your deception is found out, will you leave your pampered life to be with her?" His brain had chimed in, and the questions were hard. One look at her smiling face answered all his questions. "Of course", he told himself. And he knew he'd do anything to be with her.

"You aren't going to tell me what it is, are you? Is this a test of my patience? Are you testing me to see if I can maintain these manners in the face of such a tempting surprise?" There was a carefree mirth in her innocent questioning of him.

He smiled, then chuckled as he in a mock imitation of a strict teacher waggled a finger before her and told her in a voice that was trying and failing miserably to be serious: "Now now Maggie, all good things come to those who wait." But he couldn't wait, so he told her: "If you trust me, you will close your eyes now."

He smiled reassuringly at her and waited for her to do as he told her. When her eyes were closed, he dove into the basket and produced a small wooden box. It contained pieces of belgian chocolate considered a rare treat even in his circles. Handmade, they were like delicious pieces of high quality art. He produced a piece of white chocolate with a delicious creamy hazel filling and held it under her nose, relishing the way her expression changed as the scent hit her nose.

"Take a bite," he whispered, "and know that this isn't everyday fare even for nobles and rich people." He watched as she opened her mouth, her eyes still closed. He smiled in anticipation.

Maggie still had her eyes closed when she bit into the delicious delicacy. Sweet, rich flavour exploded into her mouth, her senses suddenly filled as the hazelnut cream filled her mouth unexpectedly the moment she bit down on the chocolate.

She gave a squeak of surprise, her eyes popping open, and then she gave a low, soft moan, almost aroused-sounding, quiet enough that Arthur only heard because he was leaning in so close to her. Her eyes fluttered shut again and she allowed herself a moment of silence to simply enjoy the flavour filling her mouth before she started to chew slowly, and then swallow.

Once she was finished, her pretty blue eyes opened slowly to meet Arthur's gaze once again, and a lovely smile lit up her whole face. "Oh Arthur, love... that was incredible. Thank you." Her smile turned the slightest bit mischievous, and she leaned toward him suddenly, closing the distance between them so she could kiss him softly, knowing he would still be able to taste the chocolate on her lips.

When she pulled away from him after enjoying his lips a little longer than she intended, she was blushing slightly. "What... what was that called?"

Her reaction was much like he'd anticipated. What was new was the low sensual moan that accompanied her enjoyment of the treat. The little moan set Arthur's imagination racing as fevered half-realistic pictures intruded, pictures where they both were naked and... Arthur was glad she closed her eyes again, because he blushed deeply at the thoughts filling his head then. Then her eyes sprang open again, and the short burst of unbridled lust he'd felt for her mingled with his more tender emotions for her. He did not want to give in to temptation. He was better than that, and she was worth waiting for.

She tested his resolve sorely by kissing him, the taste of the fine chocolate still on her lips. The kiss lingered, and he was for some reason tempted to let his tongue play along her lips. He was about to give in to that urge when she broke the kiss. Arthur was by now dizzy with love and lust for her, and he had to ask her to repeat what she said when she asked what the chocolate was called.

Blushing brightly, he hemmed and hawed and stammered before replying: "It's... I... they... I must admit my french isn't the best, but I think the word is 'pralines', a catch-all term for filled chocolates. They just advertise them as 'exquisite filled belgian chocolates' when they have them at Fortnum & Mason." Talking about something so relatively mundane and yet wonderful as these chocolates helped Arthur rein in the voracious beast that had awoken in him. As he talked, he watched her sitting on the blanket, that irresistible playful smile of hers reaching her eyes, making them twinkle and making her even more beautiful and alive in the process, if such a thing was possible. The sun caught in her hair, beautifully accentuating the golden colour as she absentmindedly pushed away a stray strand getting into her eyes.

Arthur Conway esq, Oxford scholar and nobleman was at a loss for words to fully describe her frail yet robust beauty. So he sat there, smiling like a fool and told her just that: "Maggie, I haven't yet read a poem that fully encapsulates your beauty and grace. And I don't think I ever will." So instead, he leaned forward and kissed her hands, her forehead, and her mouth.

He positioned himself so that she could rest her head on him. They lay there for a long while trading kisses and chocolates and making pleasant small talk as well as touching upon the subject of their subterfuge and subsequent marriage. It was the happiest moments of Arthur's life up to this point.

But the time passed, and they reluctantly had to prepare for their trip back to London and aunt Florence.

Maggie couldn't have imagined a life more perfect. Her dreams were all coming true in that lovely afternoon. How long had she spent fantasizing about spending a lazy afternoon with Arthur, taking a walk through a park, or learning to read? This had surpassed all of them, for she was closer to him, lying as she was in his arms, than she had yet been. She could feel each shift of his muscles and each beat of his heart, and she could hardly imagine ever being happier. And yet, she knew it was possible to be so, because she knew that the act of making physical love could, for two people who truly loved each other as they did, could be described as nothing but divine. She thought she was already in heaven, simply being close to him and laughing quietly together. The thought that it could get even better was absolutely overwhelming.

Soon, though, they had to return to London to introduce Maggie to Arthur's Aunt Florence. She found she was nervous, perhaps unsurprisingly. She sat next to him in the carriage, watching the scenery fly by, but not seeing it. Instead, her head was filled with fears of how her first meeting with Lady Florence might go. She was not a normally anxious woman - she was strong enough to live a life without even the certainty of having enough food or warmth, and yet this was driving her to panic in a way nothing she'd ever experienced had yet in her life. Her small hand was so tight in Arthur's that she was certain she was hurting him, but every time she forced herself to loosen her grip, she found herself squeezing him all over again a moment later anyway. She couldn't imagine how she could manage if this little plan of theirs fell apart. Now that she knew what true happiness could be, what would she do if she lost it? If someone found out about their deception? If Aunt Florence was less understanding of their union than Arthur imagined her to be?

"Arthur," she whispered, still clinging tightly to him as they rode through the narrow London streets, "what if she dislikes me?"

Maggie grew more quiet as they packed the basket and walked down from the little hillock they'd spent several hours on. As they boarded the carriage there seemed to be a shadow cast on her face, and she kept squeezing his hand as the countryside vanished and London loomed ever nearer. Arthur was thoughtful as well. They'd have to concoct a good story for her, and her manners would have to be beyond reproach, as well as her speech. It wouldn't be easy, and his aunt Florence could be a stern taskmaster.

"Arthur, what if she dislikes me?"
Arthur smiled at that. "I don't think you need to fear that, Maggie. You are not one of the pale unassuming wallflowers in high society that my aunt so detest. You weren't afraid to stand up to me and give me a piece of your mind the first time we met. Now remember what I told you: don't be afraid to contradict her, but be ready to defend your position if you do. My aunt loves a good discussion and verbal sparring. But just be yourself and my aunt will take to you in an instant. I am sure of it."

As he spoke, they pulled up outside her apartment. They got out of the carriage. There was a look of apprehension on Maggie's face that mirrored Arthur's feelings. Standing in front of his aunt's apartment, the gravity of the situation started to sink in. Courage, Arthur, he told himself. He looked at Maggie to summon the courage, and then he rang the bell. Aunt Florence's butler answered the door. He gave a bow, not giving any sign that he wondered about Maggie's presence.

"I need to speak to my aunt:" The butler responded with a non-committal "Very well", and led Arthur away. Arthur turned to Maggie and tol,d her "wait here, we will send for you as soon as we've talked." He hated leaving her like that, but he knew he had to soften the blow by telling his aunt before they met.

The butler went in and announced "Master Arthur Conway, with guest." Aunt Florence raised an eyebrow at that, but dismissed the butler after telling the butler to see to Arthur's guest. As soon as they were alone, she fixed Arthur with her stern gaze. "Hello nephew. To what do I owe this pleasure?" There was a hint of mirth in her eyes that quickly vanished when Arthur started telling about Maggie. He told her everything. As he spoke, he forgot about being nervous and started describing Maggie in excruciating detail until his aunt sternly but not unkindly interrupted him: "I understand you've met a wonderful young woman of less fortunate extraction than you or I, and you are in love with her. What of it!?"

Arthur gulped. This was it. He needed to sell the idea of grooming Maggie under Florence's tutelage. "It's like this, auntie: I think it unfair that I can't marry Maggie just because she was raised poor in Whitechapel. I think it unfair that we live this priviliged life just because we've been born into the "right" families. I'm willing to give up title and wealth if need be, but I would dearly love to have my cake and eat it, to be perfectly frank with you. And so we throw ourselves at your mercy, aunt Florence. I would be ever so grateful if you helped me with Maggie, took her in, taught her the finer points of this, our high society. I will do whatever I can too, of course."

He watched her while he spoke. She looked at him, first with a look of surprise and then with an amused look. "So you want me to take in a woman you've met in Whitechapel, groom her in every way possible -with your help, of course- and present her as a marrying prospect, is that what you're telling me, nephew?" Arthur nodded meekly, his heart hammering in his chest. This was it. She gave a wry chuckle. "You don't lack for courage, my lad. I'll give you that. Well, before I make up my mind I'd very much like to meet this mystery woman." She rang the bell. When the butler reappeared, Florence told him to fetch Maggie.

A minute, stretching like an hour, passed. Then the butler announced Maggie, and she stood in the doorway, tiny compared to the tall butler. "Come closer, girl!" aunt Florence said. As Maggie approached, Florence leaned over to Arthur and muttered "Well, you didn't exaggarate about her beauty, at least." And then Maggie stood before them. Arthur smiled nervously at her as Florence again spoke: "So, you're the woman that has captured the heart of my favourite nephew. Oh DO stop squirming, Arthur! You know I like you, dear boy! So tell me Margaret, was this deceptipon your idea, or his? And what do you think of it?"

The time Maggie spent at the door felt like hours, only interrupted once by the butler's return. He asked her if she wanted for anything, offering her any drink she so desired. Though her mouth was dry, she knew it was from nerves rather than thirst, and she had no idea what to ask for. It seemed she was afraid to embarrass herself even in front of the butler. She told him, no, thank you, and offered him a clumsy curtsy as her left, which seemed to draw a very slight smile to his otherwise stern face, one of amusement though it was not unkind. It was precisely what Maggie needed to see - the thought that her efforts, clumsy though the might be, were worth something here made her feel better. She could put forth effort, of that she was entirely certain.

When the butler came back a second time, he came to bring her to Lady Florence. As she followed him through the wondrously decorated apartment, she felt like her heart was going to beat straight up her throat and out through her mouth. It didn't, of course, but her nerves were such that she kept swallowing as if it might keep her thundering heart in her chest.

The moment Maggie entered the room, Lady Florence barked at her to come closer. Maggie started at the sharpness of her tone - not out of any true fear of the woman, but rather because she hadn't been expecting such a brusque woman to be so closely related to the soft-spoken Arthur. She crossed the room quickly, standing before Lady Florence with as straight a posture as she could muster. All she could think about was how Arthur had mentioned her dislike of wallflowers, and so, Maggie thought to herself, I must not wilt.

"So, you're the woman that has captured the heart of my favourite nephew. Oh DO stop squirming, Arthur! You know I like you, dear boy! So tell me Margaret, was this deceptipon your idea, or his? And what do you think of it?"

"It was his, my.. um, your..." she paused and looked at Arthur. "My lady?" It came out as a question, and was clearly a request for confirmation that it was indeed the correct title. At Arthur's nod, she turned her attention back to Lady Florence and cleared her throat. "It was your nephew's idea, my lady. I admit, I wouldn't have imagined such a deception would be possible, but he assures me that with the proper patron and training it could be done." She paused, then, considering her next words carefully. "As to what I think of it... I think it will be a great deal of work. I know very little about appropriate behaviour for a lady of noble birth, I must admit." Her gaze slid to Arthur for a moment and a small smile appeared on her lips, along with a slight blush to her cheeks. "But I can tell you honestly that I believe any effort to be entirely worthwhile. I will work as long and as hard as required, and will still believe it a small price to pay for this happiness."

"It was your nephew's idea, my lady. I admit, I wouldn't have imagined such a deception would be possible, but he assures me that with the proper patron and training it could be done."

Aunt Florence turned towards Arthur, an enigmatic look on her face. Arthur nodded in confirmation, cheeks flushed. While Maggie composed herself and worded her next sentence carefully, Arthur whispered to his aunt: "I immediately thought of you, auntie." A strange expression flickered across aunt Florence's face as she whispered back "I see" in her most dangerously neutral voice. Then Maggie spoke again:

"As to what I think of it... I think it will be a great deal of work. I know very little about appropriate behaviour for a lady of noble birth, I must admit. But I can tell you honestly that I believe any effort to be entirely worthwhile. I will work as long and as hard as required, and will still believe it a small price to pay for this happiness."

Aunt Florence raised her fan to hide her face and the ghost of a smile before she lowered it again and fixed Maggie with her sternest gaze. Arthur had been subjected to that gaze when he'd been naughty as a child, and he'd hated it. She had made him cry once merely by fixing him with that gaze when he was five years old. He knew that Maggie was made of stern stuff and had suffered many hardships, but she was out of her element and eager to please. Would she stand up to his aunt?

Aunt Florence spoke: "I see. So just like that you bewitched my favourite nephew? And he is so under your spell that you've convinced him to put on this charade to fool everyone he knows and loves? I find it despicable! And what will you do when he marries you and you're safely in the money of one of the richest families in London, I wonder? Will you make him proud? Will you be the very picture of english womanhood? Or will you just laze away the days and grow fat, drunk, and complacent like your lot usually does?"

Arthur started squirming. Her voice was dripping with bile as she addressed Maggie. And then he couldn't take it no more: "Really, aunt Florence! It's not like-" and that was as far as he got. His aunt snapped back at him "Do shut up, Arthur! I'm doing you a favour! A girl like" she grimaced as she waved her hands in Maggie's direction "HER, the mother of my great nephews and nieces!? I forbid it!"

Arthur was livid, and at a loss for words.

Each word felt like a slap. Maggie stood in silence, simply absorbing what Lady Florence was saying to her, the only indication of her emotions the tightness of her clenched fists at her sides. She knew. She knew what Arthur was risking for this. She knew what would happen to him if he continued to see Maggie without this deception, and Maggie knew that he would. Lady Florence was denying Arthur his whole life because she wouldn't give Maggie even the chance to prove herself!

There was a long, heavy silence, where the shaking of Maggie's body was the only movement in the room. It wasn't really apparent to any onlookers whether she was about to explode or faint. One might have assumed the latter, simply because any woman of "high society" would have done so after enduring such a verbal lashing. Maggie, however, was not such a woman.

She squared her shoulders and took a step towards Lady Florence, her face going red. "You should be ashamed of yourself!" she cried, throwing her hands up into the air. "I do not resent you for questioning me. You don't know me from Eve, and should certainly not trust a woman you do not know with such a precious thing as your nephew's heart, but you cannot even imagine giving me a chance! You don't understand a thing about me, and to make such cruel accusations, based on naught but assumptions! I don't care about Arthur's money! Were he to give up his inheretance right now, I would still be his, all of me. But I would never, ever forgive you for forcing him to do so! How could you call him your favourite nephew and then force him to make such a horrible choice?!"

It was then that she stopped to take a breath, and then that she seemed to realize she'd just shouted quite a lot of terrible things at the woman whom they needed if they were to have anything close to a chance at their plan. She slapped her hands over her mouth, tears springing immediately to her eyes. She looks at Arthur to absolute horror. "Oh... I've ruined everything now, haven't I?"

Arthur looked on in horror as Maggie shouted at his aunt. He tried to intervene, but her anger seemed to give her a terrible momentum, more so than when she had yelled at him that first time they'd met. There wasn't simply anger, there was an outrage for not being believed and hurt pride. Worse, aunt Florence seemed to have shattered their hopes in one swift stroke. And then Maggie clasped her hands to her mouth as tears burst from her eyes.

"Oh... I've ruined everything now, haven't I?"

Arthur looked to aunt Florence, his anger rising. He had never felt this angry with anyone before. Unbidden and unwanted, tears sprang into his eyes as he ran forward and embraced Maggie. "We'll think of another way, Maggie. I won't abandon you," he said with a quavering voice as she sobbed, giving her emotions free rein. He fixed his aunt with a withering stare of his own. Maddeningly, she was looking at them with a triumphant little smile. Arthur didn't expect what came next.

"Ruined everything, Margaret? On the contrary." Arthur gaped. Now what? Aunt Florence rose and came towards them, her features softening as she approached them. She seemed smaller and less intimidating all of a sudden. She gingerly placed a hand on each of their shoulders as she continued talking: "I must apologize to you Margaret, but I had to make sure your feelings for my nephew were genuine. And you Arthur, I had to test you to see how far you were willing to go. You have both convinced me. You do really love each other." Florence sighed wistfully.

"You see Arthur, you're not the first nobleman who's wanted to marry a woman considered unsuitable for marrying into our ranks. And Margaret, there are many women willing to feign love to better their lot. I needed to see how deep your convictions ran. Many hearts have been broken by 'nobles'" she spat the word out as if it were obscene "who have had a change of heart when they've had to choose between love and comfort. You chose love Arthur, and I applaud you for it. Margaret, you were not afraid to give me a piece of your mind when I so clearly insulted you." She smiled broadly now, positively beaming at Margaret. "If you employ that wonderful temper of yours in defense of Arthur and your family, I shall rest easy knowing he has a lioness and not a wallflower for a wife."

She reached into her pocket and produced a clean handkerchief which she handed Margaret. "Wipe away your tears, child. I believe in you and I want to help you." And then she gently pushed Arthur aside and embraced Maggie.

Maggie had managed to hold back her sobs until Arthur enclosed her in his loving arms. She felt so safe there, it was impossible not to let her emotions free. The moment she was enveloped in him, she burst into sobs, crying into his chest tears of heartbreak. They would find another way, she knew, but how likely was it that this other way would involve Arthur giving up his title? She had been truthful when she said that she would never forgive Florence for forcing Arthur to choose between his heart and his birthright... But neither would she forgive herself for her part in taking him from the life he deserved.

She barely heard Florence speaking at first, not that she was particular keen on even listening to what that horrid woman had to say. It wasn't until she touched Maggie's shoulder and apologized for her behaviour that Maggie started listening.

At first, she simply stared at the woman while she explained her little deception. It took quite a while for her mind to begin to comprehend what she was saying. She took the offered handkerchief, but ended up simply holding it limply, her thoughts too distracted by the sudden sense of hope that had seized her. When Florence finally embraced her, Maggie ended up giving a hiccuping little giggle, wiping the tears away finally.

"Wonderful?" she repeated. "You think my temper is wonderful?" She found the thought absolutely baffling... Though she supposed she should not have been surprised. After all, her first encounter with Arthur had begun with Maggie yelling at him, and look what had happened with that! Arthur had said, after all, that Florence was his favourite aunt. Tears started rolling down her cheeks again, but this time they were tears of happiness, as well as from being simply overwhelmed by feeling two such extremes of emotion so quickly.

"Wonderful? You think my temper is wonderful?"

Maggie seemed incredulous. Aunt Florence looked at her again, smiling. "Indeed I do, Margaret. To have someone speak their mind as plainly and clearly as you just did is like a breath of fresh air to me." Aunt Florence straightened herself and held Maggie at arms length. "You have good posture, girl. I don't think you've ever worn those ridiculous corsets that impede breathing and muscle development. I pray you never will wear them either. According to my doctor, they're unhealthy. Stay away from them! Now, you are a natural beauty, although a bit skinny. That's easy to remedy, at least. Your hair needs trimming and little else. Clothes should not be difficult to obtain."

Aunt Florence was thinking aloud as she surveyed Maggie, a smile and a glint in her eyes as she appraised her. "Changing your outward appearance should present no problems, Margaret. But we need a discrete dialect coach. Although I love the way you talk, you will have to master 'the Queen's english' if you are to pass as a noble. And although I love women that speak their minds, it is frowned upon in 'polite society'. Learn to rein in your anger, Margaret. You will need it. People will test you. If you need to vent, wait until you're alone with Arthur and myself."

This was the aunt Florence Arthur knew and loved. Her mind was going a mile a minute. She analyzed, asked, made plans. Arthur suddenly understood how deeply unfair the society he'd grown up in was. If Florence had been a man, she'd have been a successful businessperson in her own right. But because she was a woman she was diminished to the role of wife, ornament, childbearer. It was deeply unfair, and he vowed to never think of Maggie in those terms alone.

Meanwhile, aunt Florence continued: "Now, we need a good explanation of who you are and why no-one has heard of you before. I don't think we can pass you off as a woman of rank. The nobility guard their titles with such jealousy that a deception like that is close to impossible. But we can still pass you off as a girl of 'proper' upbringing. I'll look into what we can do."

She snapped out of it and looked at Maggie again. "But dear child, where are my manners?" She rang the bell and the butler promptly appeared. "Set the table for two guests, then come back and see us immediately," she told him. As the butler disappeared, Arthur finally spoke again. A host of conflicting emotions had coursed through him the last few minutes, but like Maggie, the tears in his eyes were now tears of joy. "Thank you, auntie!" he exclaimed as he hugged her fiercely before again embracing Maggie.

Aunt Florence smiled again, a sad smile this time. "Think nothing of it, Arthur. I'm only trying to do for the two of you what no-one were willing to do for me when I was young."