Penelope's
Ploy
Chapter 19
Penelope followed the duchess upstairs, where the dowager and a maid waited to assist her in dressing for the ball.
"The gown is going to be perfect," the duchess gushed. The dowager was more interested in hearing about Penelope's reunion with her brother. Penelope gave them both as much attention as she could as she bathed behind a screen, and when she was through, was ushered in her undergarments to the front of a cheval mirror, where the serious dressing could begin.
"This blush silk gown is going to do wonders for your complexion," the duchess remarked as the gown was slid over Penelope's head.
"I wonder what Sir Stephen will do now that he is home?" the dowager asked.
"No, Marie," the duchess said to her French maid. "The curls must be brushed back from the face and held with these." She produced a pair of ivory combs and the maid continued her work.
"I imagine he will have to do something about your stepmother..."
"What do you think - the topazes or the garnets?"
"I suppose young Harry will be heading back to school..."
"Oh! I have some presents for you!" The duchess retrieved a basket from somewhere in the room and brought a pile of tissue-wrapped packages over to the mirror. "These are from all of us..."
The first gift was from Stephen, and it was a string of perfect pearls. A matching bracelet was a present from the duke and duchess. Lord Michael had sent a silver flower holder filled with light pink roses, and Harry, a fan made from the same silk as her dress.
"And these," the duchess added with a smile, "are from Jarrod." She produced roses matching the ones from Lord Michael. They were a tight bud, a half-open rose and a blossom in full bloom.
The story went that a man offered three roses to his lady, and she let him know her feelings for him through her choice. A bud meant she would not consider his suit at all. A half-open rose meant he could hope, and a full-blown rose meant she would seriously consider the gentleman. If the lady wore all three, it was tantamount to accepting an offer.
Penelope was faced with a decision. To wear only the bud, of course, was unthinkable. Even the half-open blossom was less than he deserved. The dilemma was in wearing either the rose in full bloom or wearing all three. In the end, she decided only all three would serve, and she asked Marie to pin them together in her hair, just above one of the ivory combs. The dowager, however, had a better idea.
"Pull the short ends of her hair together at the back, Marie," she commanded, "and then fasten the roses to the nape of her neck. It will give the appearance of longer hair, and will make Jarrod work harder for his answer..." She and the duchess giggled together like schoolgirls, and Penelope rolled her eyes. In the end, she agreed.
An hour later, she came down the grand staircase to join the family in the receiving line, and if she looked for one person waiting there, it was only to be expected.
"Where is Stephen?" she asked Harry when he met her at the bottom of the stairs.
"In the drawing room lying down for the moment. He still tires easily..."
The duchess corralled her into the line at that point, as the guests were arriving, and she stood between the dowager and Gabriel while Harry and Michael went to assist Stephen.
They were all lined up, still greeting guests, when Lord Varney entered the house. Right behind him were Coddy and Lady Juno, and Penelope greeted them all kindly. Then an imp of mischief appeared on her shoulder, and she stayed Lord Varney with a hand.
"My lord, have you met Viscount Coddington and his lovely sister, Lady Juno?"
Juno, not one to pass up an opportunity, pushed her brother aside. "Lord Varney?" she asked politely enough, but with a predatory gleam in her eyes.
"Why, yes, Lady Juno," Penelope sweetly replied. "Worth a fortune," she whispered, thus ensuring Varney's participation in the "Let's Avoid Juno" game for the rest of the evening. Penelope chuckled as they walked off together, Juno's arm holding his in a vise grip as she informed him he was the lucky gentleman chosen as her partner for the first dance.
"Very nicely done, my dear," Gabriel approved. Penelope turned her head back to the next guest in line, exposing the roses to his sight, and she smiled secretly when she heard Gabriel's sharp intake of breath. She just knew tonight was the night for his proposal, and she had every intention of accepting it - she did love him, after all - but that did not mean she wasn't planning on making him work for it. Penelope: 1; Gabriel: 0.
Coddy, however, was hovering nearby, and Penelope was surprised when he took the arm of a very pretty blonde lady in an ice blue gown. He escorted her over to Penelope and introduced her as his cousin, Lady Alyson Blaine. "Her father, my uncle, is the Duke of Wolverton," he said proudly.
Penelope nodded a greeting, as did Gabriel, and then the lady reached Lord Michael. Penelope heard another audible male gasp, but this time it was from Gabriel's brother. Even as she turned back to more guests, she heard him ask the lady for a dance. The guest she turned to face was Lady Wade.
"Good evening, Lady Wade," she said cooly. "I think you remember my former guardian, Lord Jarrod ... But perhaps you have not seen my brother yet." Her fan pointed to a young man further down the line. "Sir Stephen has recently returned to town. Is it not remarkable?"
"Remarkable..." her stepmother agreed, turning pale at the sight of her eldest stepson. She hurried around the people ahead of her, neatly avoiding Penelope's brothers.
"Don't worry about her for now," Gabriel whispered warmly against her neck. "It is time to open the ball."
"With you," she agreed.
"Yes, with me." Tucking her arm up under his, he led her into the ballroom and out onto the floor. At the sight of the couple, the orchestra struck up the opening strains of a waltz. Penelope hesitated.
"But, Gabriel, this is a waltz. One does not open a ball with a waltz."
"Whose birthday is this?" he wanted to know.
"Mine, but..."
"Do you like to waltz..."
"Yes, but..."
"Do you want to waltz with me?"
"Yes, but..." She saw his determined gaze and the curious stares of those waiting for the dancing to begin. Closing her mouth, she stepped into his arms and allowed him to start leading her about the floor. Other couples quickly followed suit.
"Gabriel..."
"Hmmm?"
"Thank you for my birthday present."
"You are very welcome."
Penelope enjoyed the feel of her hand in his, and the way his other hand curled about her waist. There were times, she had to admit, being female was its own reward. As if he sensed her approval, he pulled her slightly closer, earning him a smile.
"People will talk," she teased. One of Jarrod's eyebrows went up in surprise.
"Are you flirting with me, Miss Wade?" he asked, pretending to be affronted.
"Am I?" she asked. "I thought I was only remarking on the situation. People talk, I believe, when all you do is enter a room. I remember the first time I saw you..." Her lips curled up into a dreamy smile. "Lady Markworth's drawing room..."
"I was awful those first few weeks, was I not?"
"Moderately awful, yes," she agreed.
"And now?" he queried playfully.
"Still moderately awful," she replied.
"I beg your pardon?"
"There is nothing wrong with your hearing, my lord." Penelope inched closer and allowed his hand to rest on the small of her back. "However, I have reason to believe you will reform in the future. The very near future."
He grinned. "You have been listening to idle gossip, Miss Wade."
"Oh, no," Penelope protested. "I heard it straight from the, er, horse's mouth."
"The horse, hmmm?" Without giving her warning, he pulled her even tighter and they were dancing scandalously close to each other. "Now people are really beginning to talk," he noticed. All around them, heads were together, whispering. "I say, let them..." Penelope: 1; Gabriel: 1.
The waltz ended soon afterward, and Penelope was in demand all evening. She was not sufficiently diverted enough, however, not to know where Lady Wade was at all times, and noticed that Lord Michael was making a rather conspicuous cake of himself over Lady Alyson.
The supper dance finally arrived, and Penelope was disappointed when the orchestra began to play a quadrille. She wanted another waltz. Gabriel came to collect her from a circle of admirers, and she decided a half loaf was better than none. However, he steered her not toward the dancers, but out onto the terrace.
Her heart began to beat wildly, and her mouth went dry. Merciful heavens - it was time! She thought she was prepared for this, was going to be able to make a cool, confident answer to his most important question, and here she was, sweating profusely and barely able to contain her excitement. She shivered deliciously when he backed her up to the edge of the terrace and put an arm about her waist.
"I believe you know why we are out here, Penelope..." He gave a little laugh. "If it helps, my love, I feel as nervous as you look!"
"My love?" she croaked.
Gabriel moved in closer. "Aren't you?" he whispered against her lips. He bent to kiss her, barely touching mouths, when there was a click behind him and he stiffened in surprise.
"You'll find her good enough to dally with, my lord," Lady Wade sneered, "but she's no lady." Penelope gasped and peeked around Gabriel's shoulder to see her stepmother standing there, a gun trained on his back.
"She spent the better part of last season masquerading as a young man, you know. Very indecent of her, I think."
"She is none of your concern," Gabriel said through gritted teeth, still standing in front of Penelope.
"I beg to differ, my lord ... And I believe I could shoot now and put a bullet right through the both of you," Lady Wade noted. "It would take care of one of my horrid stepchildren, and her misguided lover, and I can put the gun down and disappear. Everyone will think one of your rejected swains has killed you both in a fit of jealousy," she added, clearly delighted with that thought. "Stephen eluded me in Belgium, but he will not be so heavily guarded with Jarrod dead..."
Gabriel still stood with his back to Lady Wade, protecting Penelope with his body. He looked down at his coat and then to her hand several times, and she smiled as brightly as she could before reaching into his pocket and retrieving a small pistol.
"When I give the word," he whispered, "I'll jump aside and you shoot her. Aim for the arm holding the gun."
Penelope nodded and tensed, waiting for his signal. When he gave it, however, loud shots rang from four different directions, and Lady Wade crumpled to a heap on the terrace.
"What?" Peneope cried as Stephen, Michael and Harry all emerged from the shadows, smoking guns in their hands. Gabriel was already on his knees checking Lady Wade for vital signs. He found none.
"Stephen, will you take Penelope inside and see that she gets something to drink? Put her in a private room away from wagging tongues. Michael, take Lady Alyson in through the other terrace door, so as to not place her here, and make it look as if you had spent the entire dance chatting in a corner somewhere. Harry, I trust you can bring a constable in discreetly through the garden gate? Put a footman in front of the terrace doors and don't let anyone else come out."
He turned back to Lady Wade, and Penelope, shaken at what she thought she had done, allowed Stephen to escort her indoors. She almost balked when he took her to the billiard room, but was numb with shock by time he sat her down and handed her a glass of whisky.
"Drink this and stay put. I'll send the dowager in to sit with you, if you wish..."
"No, I am all right now," she said, the alcohol warming her down to her toes. "Did...did I kill her?" She felt she had the right to know.
"I don't know without further inspection, but I doubt it. You were not aiming for anything vital, were you?"
"No," Penelope said in a small voice.
"Then I know you did not kill her." Stephen knew who had, though, and would take that knowledge to the grave.
Two hours and three glasses of whisky later, Gabriel ran Penelope to ground in the billiard room.
"Stephen thought you might have gone to bed," he said, strolling in with his coat over one shoulder, his cravat undone. He threw the coat down on the green baize table and sat down next to Penelope. She had already poured him a glass of liquor, which he downed in one gulp, holding it out for more. She murmured something and obliged.
"Lady Wade?" she asked when he had polished off the second glass of whisky.
"Gone." He would not elaborate.
"I see. I'm glad," she added. "Stephen?"
"Giving his statement even as we speak. Father and Harry are doing the pretty to your guests, and Mother escorted Grandmother upstairs. Michael is somewhere entertaining Lady Alyson," he added with a grin. Penelope gave him an equally pleased smile.
"And us?" he wondered.
"What about us?"
"Where do we stand?" he wanted to know.
"About what, my lord?"
"About us, Penelope. Don't make me go through this again, please..."
"I haven't the faintest..." She rose from the chair and sauntered over to the table, taking his coat and throwing it over a bronze statue of a rearing horse. Taking a stick, she leaned against the table, looking soft and feminine in the candlelight. "Care for a rematch?"
"What are the stakes?"
"Hmmmm, if I win, I get to retire for the evening."
"Penelope!" he cried.
"And if you win..."
"I do not have to finish saying what I had intended on the terrace."
Penelope was enveloped by one of her feelings, and, pleased to know they had not deserted her completely when it came to Gabriel and her heart, she nodded, allowing him to break.
This time, however, she played with a lesson learned in mind, leaning over suggestively while watching him line up shots. Distracted, he missed several, and she gained the advantage.
"Penelope!" he cried at one point as she sat on a stool, whisky in hand.
"Yes?" she purred.
"Can you not put on more clothes?"
"No. Do you wish to concede, my lord Jarrod?"
"No, damn it!" He had to wait, though, because it was still her turn; she didn't miss again. Playing the winning shot, she set the cue down on the table and walked to the door. Turning, she blew him a kiss.
"Good night, Gabriel. You may call on me tomorrow morning. Early," she added with a sweet smile. Turning around again, she walked out the door.
Penelope: 2; Gabriel: 1.
Penelope had won the game of billiards, and the latest round of
one-upmanship she figured she and Gabriel would be playing for the rest of
their lives.
She, had, however, underestimated her opponent. He had agreed she could
retire and retire she did. After all, a bet was a bet. However, he had no
constraints over what he did once she retired. And he was not going to wait
until morning for his kiss.
There was a little balcony outside her bedchamber window, and Jarrod knew
the trellis leading up to it would bear his weight. He quickly slipped through
the French windows of the billiard room, ran along the wall, and up the flower
strewn trellis, grasping some blooms as he went. He entered the bedchamber
before Penelope had even made her way up the stairs and nonchalantly sat in the
armchair by her fire.
When Penelope entered the room the first thing she saw was the smiling
countenance of her love, as he rose and proffered the lush blooms.
"Oh! However did you manage to beat me here?" she asked.
"When it comes to you, there is no keeping me away." He strode forward
with an intent look on his face, casually tossing the flowers over his shoulder
onto the brocade counterpane.
Penelope: 2; Gabriel: 2
"What do you want?" asked Penelope, backing away half-heartedly. She did
not feel any compulsion to back up. Every instinct was urging forward action.
"The answer to my question." Jarrod stood directly in front of her now.
So close that it would not take much for Penelope to rest her chin upon his
shoulder. "If you do not give me your answer in words, I will simply take it
that the flowers speak for themselves, and go on to what comes next."
"The flowers?" asked Penelope. She could barely breath. The bay rum he
wore was teasing her senses.
"The ones at the nape of your neck," said Jarrod as he reached round to
detach them. He dropped them to the floor and kept his hand cradling the back
of her head.
"So what does come next, Gabriel?" asked Penelope raising her face to his
and parting her lips expectantly.
"This," said Jarrod tenderly, and he bent to kiss her slowly. At first
his lips were as soft as petals upon hers, but then he groaned and pulled her
to him, their bodies fusing. His kiss lengthened and deepened, and Penelope
responded eagerly, putting her arms around his neck and running her fingers
through his dark curls.
Game, set, and match. For life.
Penelope sat up in bed in a cold sweat until she recalled her dream. A warm glow enveloped her, and she trained her eyes about the room, hoping against hope it had been real.
If only, she thought with a sigh. Groaning, she flopped her head back down on the pillow and went back to sleep, where she dreamed of something completely different.
She was seated in a summerhouse, the green trees creating a leafy bower
overhead. Lilacs bloomed, roses clambered over every available surface and bees
buzzed in the background.
Penelope held a blonde-haired, green-eyed cherub on her lap while
another, older tow-headed child played with a menagerie of wooden animals on
the floor at her feet.
Gabriel appeared, and the children ran to him to be kissed, hugged and held. She tried to rise from the chaise she lounged on, but, heavy with a third child, she was stayed with a firm, loving hand...
Daylight streamed into Penelope's bedroom, waking her for the day. She moaned and buried her head.
"Gabriel!" she cried a moment later. Springing up from the bed, she rang for a maid and then set about preparing for her proposal.
She rejected three different gowns before settling on her favorite sprigged muslin. The maid arrived in time to wind a blue ribbon through her short hair. Penelope sipped tea and nibbled a bun while the girl worked. She was much too nervous, though, to eat much of anything.
"A visitor for you in the drawing room, Miss," a footman said as she came downstairs. Penelope fairly flew into the room, only to be met by Stephen and Harry.
"Stephen! Should you be out and about this early?"
"Did you have to demand a proposal so early?" Harry replied.
"What does that have to do with you?" Penelope sat down next to Stephen and took his hand in hers. She felt a need for physical contact with this brother, as if he would disappear if she as much as let him go.
"Didn't you know? We're here to give our blessing," Stephen said.
"Oh, really ... do you feel that is necessary?"
"We do not," Harry said bluntly. "However, we have been commanded to do so. I think it's a waste of time."
"Oh? How so?" Penelope's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"You know, Pen - you practically lived in each others' pockets when we were in Town last spring. This is a mere formality..."
"What is this?" Stephen wanted to know. By mutual consent, no one had yet told Stephen that Penelope's ploy to bring him home had included her masquerade as a young man.
"I shall tell you later," Harry said. Penelope breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing must mar what she hoped to be the most perfect of days.
"I have one question, though," she said. "Actually, two. First, why ever was our stepmother trying to put periods to our existence?"
"The terms of father's will state that in the event his children are deceased before his wife, she would receive the entire estate - none of it was entailed."
"But why wait until now?"
"She was receiving enough money at the time from your guardian. It wasn't until you arrived in London that she decided something needed to be done before Jarrod discovered the truth. Also, she knew I was still at large, and still a danger to her plans. Question number two?"
"Where is Jarrod?"
Harry laughed at his sister's insistent question. "I know the answer to that one, Pen! Try the..."
"... Billiard room," she finished with a grin. "I think I shall." She rose, bent over to kiss both her brothers' cheeks, and then fairly skipped out of the room.
The door to the billiard room was open, but Gabriel was not to be found. A cigar sat smoking in a dish and a billiard cue lay across the table, giving the appearance that he had just been there. A door at the far end of the room was ajar, and she walked swiftly across the room and peeked around the corner to discover ... a back entrance to the library.
She entered, facing the sofa Gabriel had reclined on the day he overheard Michael's proposal. A book lay facedown on the leather seat, and she picked it up and read the title. "Taming of the Shrew." Well! Tossing the book back down, she was starting to get annoyed. The main door to the library was open, though, and she being curious, and determined to find Gabriel, went through it and out into the hall.
No clues in the hall, she thought, looking about. One end led to the main hall and the drawing rooms. The other opened up to the breakfast parlor and dining room. The only other thing she could see were - rose petals?
A little path of petals, already being tidied by an industrious maid, led to the breakfast parlor. Stepping over the maid, she raced to the sunny little room that led to the duchess's gardens. As she suspected, the petals led out through French doors.
The October wind was chilly, and she wished she had brought a shawl as she stood among swirling leaves and rose petals, wondering where to head next. A fluttering above caught her attention, and she inhaled sharply. The curtains blowing wildly were from her own bedchamber - this was just like her dream!
There was only one way to go, she thought with a shrug. Up. Not exactly dressed for climbing, she bravely attempted it anyway, putting her thinly-slippered feet into the trellis and holding her gown up about her knees. Muttering about the things she was prepared to do for the man she loved, she finally reached the top and fell face-first into her room with a thud.
Picking herself up off the plum and blue Axminster rug, she saw no one in the room, not even Lucky, who was usually found curled up in front of the fire. On the bed were several blossoms, but there were no signs of occupation.
Now she was getting really incensed. Where the hell was Gabriel and her damned proposal? It was just as well he was not in her room - she was tired from her late evening and did not feel up to finding herself in a compromising position on top of everything else.
But where was he?
Stepping out into the upstairs hall, she saw more rose petals, and this time there were no maids to clear them. They led up to the next floor, where she had never been before, and when she reached the top of the stairs, they trailed down a dim hall to a set of slightly open double doors. More blossoms adorned the doorknobs and she gave one a push, opening up to a brightly lit nursery filled with toys.
A rocking horse sat watch in a corner and one wall was almost covered with a doll house that vaguely resembled Jarrod House. It was open, and the little people had been moved about, and she wondered who had recently played with it. Upon further inspection, she noticed the people inside were a family: Mother, father, several children and a little dog. A gray-haired couple played with the children in the nursery, the dog was in the miniscule garden, and a gentleman and lady were seated side by side in front of the library fire. Charming, but what did it mean?
"I didn't think you played with dolls," Gabriel said softly from directly above her. Penelope did not turn around, but she visibly relaxed.
"I played with dolls when I was younger," she admitted, "until I found horses and pistols to be much more interesting. However, I have always found doll houses appealing. Someone else must, as well. This house has been played with recently." Moving over, she patted the floor at her side. "Won't you join me?"
Gabriel settled down at her side and began to pick up the dolls. "See the grandparents? You would never know they were among the most prominent aristocrats in the land. They actually play with their grandchildren, as they did with their own two sons, many years ago."
"I suppose this gentleman here, then, is their son?" She picked up the man sitting in the library. "The one who reads 'Taming of the Shrew'?"
"I don't believe he ever read it - he just leaves it around so people will think his wife is under his thumb, instead of him being wrapped around her little finger."
"I see ... he is something of a jokester, then, I take it."
"Well, yes..."
Penelope rose gracefully from the floor. "Then I think Lord Michael and his wife will be very happy together, don't you?"
"What? Where did you get the impression this was Michael?!"
"You said the gentleman was a jokester..."
"I had someone else in mind."
"Oh. I see." Hiding a grin, she sat down again and went back to rearranging the dolls. "I like the children. There seem to be three of them."
"For the moment. I could not find any more, else the nursery would be more populated."
Penelope laughed. "I hope for the lady's sake some of these are twins."
"Speaking of the lady," Gabriel said softly in her ear, "I like to think she is modeled after you."
"Me? You flatter me, my lord."
"Not at all! See her little gown? No one knows it, but it hides a knife in her shoe, a pistol in her pocket and a pair of dice in her bodice."
"And she is allowed all these things, even after being married and bearing her husband a houseful of children?"
"Her husband would put up with elephants in the garden, breeches when she rides astride and entertaining courtesans-turned-modistes at dinner, if it made her happy and kept her by his side for the rest of his life."
"Lucky lady." Penelope set the doll down and leaned back, her arms behind her, supporting her torso. "Would that I could be so lucky..."
"You could." Gabriel leaned with her and took her in his arms, supporting her body so that she might wrap her arms about his neck, which she did. "All you have to say is yes."
"Yes to what, though? For all I know, I could be agreeing to polishing your boots every day for the next year! You have to say the words, Gabriel," she whispered, pulling herself up until they were face to face, lips to lips. "Say them, my love, and I will be yours."
He lowered her down to the floor, cradling her head in his hand. "Penelope, will you marry me?"
"Why should I?"
"Penelope," he groaned, "you are not making this any easier..."
"Why should I?" she repeated, an impish grin lighting her face.
"Penelope, I am deeply and hopelessly in love with you - I have been almost from the start. I think about the first time I saw your hands and all I can think is how they will feel caressing me at night..."
"Very nice beginning..." she said clinically.
"Penelope," he said with another groan. "I want to argue with you all day and make love with you all night, and still you torture me..."
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, I am torturing you. Yes, I love you, too. Yes, I'll marry you... Is that enough consent for you, my love?"
Gabriel's reply was to kiss her, and she figured if he needed more affirmations, she would give them to him later, and every day for the rest of their lives.
Epilogue (three years later)
The Marquess and Marchioness of Jarrod were enjoying a leisurely drive through Hyde Park at the fashionable hour. It was late spring, the sky was bright and the weather was mild.
Penelope smiled at her husband and then at two-year-old Lord Peter Roth, their blonde, sunny cherub, and put her hand in Gabriel's. It was hard to believe it had been three years since she had married her former guardian. It was such a wonderful life, she hardly thought it real.
Stephen had made a full recovery, and he and Harry were working together to keep Oak Hill for the next generation, although neither of them had yet married. Lord Michael, as had been expected, had married Lady Alyson, and was the proud father of an infant son.
Penelope returned her thoughts to the present and focused once more on her own son. Lord Peter was more interested in the small wooden toy he held in his chubby hands than he was in the looks and touches exchanged by his parents, and amused himself by making animal noises under his breath.
The open carriage stopped to acknowledge Lady Jersey and several other patronesses of Almack's, but Lord Peter ignored the ladies gushing over his light curls and dimples. He had heard it all before. Mama spoke like that all the time, as did his grandmothers, and even his uncles. Only his father and his grandfather talked to him in a sane manner.
"I understand there will be another one in the nursery soon," Lady Jersey said, although it was plain to all present that the marchioness should already be in confinement. Penelope only shrugged. She had refused to stay indoors the last few months of carrying Peter, and she would do the same with this one, regardless of what anyone thought. Gabriel, of course, had sided with her.
"I vow, Jarrod, that little angel looks just like you must have at that age!" Lady Cowper exclaimed. They all agreed the child was the spitting image of his father and watched as the little boy dropped his wooden animal in the bottom of the carriage.
"Bloody hell!" the cherub exclaimed even as he dived for his toy.
The patronesses turned several shades of crimson, his little lordship was too busy searching for the plaything to care about anything else, and Penelope and Gabriel looked at each other and then roared with laughter.
"Oh, I believe our 'little angel,' as you call him," Gabriel said when he could catch his breath, "takes very much after his mother!"
The End
© 2003 Copyright held by the author.