I don't own anything! Though, I am curious to what your reaction would be if I insisted that I did in fact own them, and not Charlotte Bronte.
Reviews make the world go round!
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"Damn it," he cursed under his breath
Placing my brush back into its pot, I looked over at my husband. I watched as he closed his book and cradled his forehead in his good hand, clearly frustrated. Abandoning my painting, I went and sat next to him on the large sofa.
"Edward, you should not read for so many hours, or in such poor light. Do you have a headache now?"
By way of response, he stretched out, placing his head in my lap.
"I've missed your lap, Janet."
I laughed. Hardly married six years, with three children and another over half a year away had significantly reduced the amount of time my knees had room to accommodate more than a small child and a lesson book.
"It has missed you," I whispered, burying my thumbs into his temples and tapping out the pressure with my fingers on his forehead. We sat quietly for a long while, listening to only the occasional over-zealous wind outside and the crackling of the fire.
"It was not long ago that I was able to entertain large groups of people, fly through the continent without a second thought, and speak intelligently on any subject you could possibly think of to challenge me with." I remained silent; I know he was not yet finished. "Now," he sighed, "now I am such an invalid I must have my young wife dig at my brains so I am able to open my eyes comfortably."
"That's not realistic at all, Edward," I laughed. "You can't compare the loss of knowledge to physical inabilities or limitations. One you can't help, and one you can."
"Now, Jane, be fair. Not everyone can be as intelligent as me, even if they tried."
"Oh, how fast the male peacock recovers from the loss of one feather!"
"Edward," I began. "What was the capital of Siam under King Taksin?"
"Jane, everyone knows it was Thonburi."
So we began.
"The BarkEndeavour's Captain?"
"Cook, of course."
"'Study nature, not book,' said he."
"Aggasiz. French."
It was a game we played often at night if we had exhausted all other topics of conversation before retiring, or perhaps one of us had been confident on a fact and proved wrong after consulting our new library and a dual would ensue in an attempt to regain dignity.
We went on, dear Reader, for longer than I can recall. When together, in such innocent and genuine moments, time was a nonissue. Though, Edward and I were pulled out of our intimate world when we simultaneously heard the pitter patter of a small set of feet and both fell quiet for a moment. Sitting up, I placed my hand on the small of Edward's back, as we silently conspired against our little intruder.
"Jane," began Edward, loudly. "What is the capital of France?"
"Paris!" answered the small voice of our eldest, eager to show off his knowledge. Much like Edward was in his youth, I'm sure.
"John," I exclaimed, feigning surprise, with a hint of a cross tone. "What are you doing out of your bed?"
"I couldn't sleep, Mama," he whined, sitting on the carpet in front of us.
"I'll strike a deal with you, son," began Edward, his tone complete seriousness. "You may remain up so long as you answer every question correctly."
Edward and I struggled to keep from beaming with pride as John answered nearly everything we threw at him. Though, for as much as we try to include our children in our discussions it did not surprise me.
"Capital of Latvia?" I shot Edward a disapproving look for asking such a challenging one, though he did not catch it.
Poor John looked down at the carpet and began to twist his hands together, struggling to recall a fact I was not sure he had ever heard more than perhaps once or twice.
"Lima?" he asked. The hesitation in his voice was a clear indication that he knew his luck had run out and he was about to be sent off to bed.
"John, you're on the wrong continent. " Our son's face fell. "Lima is the capital of Peru, Riga is the capital of Latvia," Edward, informed him, formally. Without looking up, John began walking towards the dark hall to make his way back upstairs.
"Darling, what is the capital of England?" I called out to him. It was too sad to see him shuffle to bed in such a disappointed state.
"London," he mumbled back, turning. Disappoint still visible on his plump face, my charity was not appreciated.
"Ah," smiled Edward, "but where does the Queen live in London?" His attempt to make it sound like a very challenging question restored confidence back in John who ran to stand before us again, eager.
"Buckingham Palace!" he declared.
"And where does the Fairy Queen live?"
John frowned at his father, but then began to smile. "Papa! That is a trick. Fairies do not exist."
Leaning forward, Edward rested his arm on his knee, drawing John to him and then placing him on the sofa between us.
"They do exist, John. In fact, she lives here at Ferndean and sits next to you."
John looked imperiously at his father, and then at me to confirm that he was right and that his Papa was terribly insane. Rather than acknowledging Edward's outrageous suggestion, John sat smirking waiting for the trick, as he knew from experience Edward always had one. Taking in John's smug expression, Edward began to speak without waiting for a response.
"Yes, indeed, skeptical child. She came from an Elven land, where together they all live and conspire on how to best amuse themselves, particularly by tormenting mortals with their cunning tricks. They speak honestly to men, though they lace it with sweet words and deeds so that they may fall in love with them." I shot John a mock look of anger at the accusation which sent him into hysterics and made Edward smile broadly before continuing. "Though she sounds like a native English speaker, don't be fooled! I've heard her bewitch animals in a mystical tongue… humans too! Though they are not aware of it at the time."
Throughout Edward's small speech I had watched John intently. Though many mothers hope for a mature child who can recite Chaucer before they can walk, I took joy in knowing that despite John's serious disposition - no doubt inherited from both Edward and I, he could still be enraptured by a fairytale told by his father.
"Mama," he cried, indignantly. "Have you ever bewitched me?"
Before I could defend myself, Edward jumped at the perfect opportunity to further his tale. "Of course she has, Johnnie, think of all the times you have eaten food that was not cake and not complained. Or, learned a new thing in your schooling and been incited to learn more. Or even when you've played outside and torn your trousers – who mends them to where they seem as if no damage fell to them? Those are not the accomplishments of anyone but a Fairy Mother!"
John paused, puzzled. "But, Papa, there is one thing I don't understand." I could see that Edward was struggling not to smile at the idea of our son only having one question concerning the tale he had just told.
"Alright, John," my husband said, in his most serious tone, "explain to me your inquiry and I will do my best – as all mortals strive to do – to answer it." Edward placed his hand on his shoulder and looked very stern.
"If there are so many fairies, how did Mama become the Queen?" I pressed a hand to my mouth, trying not to smile too broadly at such an innocent question.
Sharp as ever, Edward responded without hesitation. "Your Mama is the fairy queen because she is the very best at what she does. She watches over us without being too proud – for that is a fault of many fairies – and she loves us just as an earthly woman would."
"I see," answered our son, very scientifically.
"Alright, off to bed," I announced, rising from the sofa to walk him to the stairs.
Without reserve, John hugged his father very tightly. I had made sure that my growing family was never afraid of Edward or me. While we did discipline when necessary, I refused to have a household like the one I had grown up in, and it was an unspoken agreement between Edward and I. I imagined his childhood had been without that human connection nearly as much as mine had been. As John approached me, he gave a deep bow but collapsed into childish giggles before I could finish my acknowledging curtsy and ran to embrace me. Edward laughed at the short tableau between the two of us as I knelt down to receive a kiss before John trudged up the stairs to bed.
"You've added speaking Fairy to my repertoire of immortal qualities now!" I said upon my return, sitting on Edward's knee. "How shall I compare to the fantasy story when the children grow older and realize I am only of this world?"
"They shall always know you as the fairy you are, just as I do," said Edward, placing his good arm around my waist. .
Turning I kissed him softly on the cheek. "Perhaps you're right, then, for you are quite old and have yet to see my worldly qualities!"