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Editor's Note: This story contains more swearing than most stories here on the Guild.

Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: This story does tend to have strong language as a representation of the culture of people I am writing about. I only use the first letter and then asterisks, but if this still offends you, then be warned.

One more thing: a HUGE thanks and hug goes to Myra for all her suppport during my writing of this. It wouldn't have turned out so well without you.

Fries and Storm continued to plan for the anniversary. Ordering flowers, finding a decent caterer, finding what activities they would have. A band or a troupe of actors or something. It was all a lot more work than Fries had expected. He supposed this was why Storm had asked his help.

One evening in early December, Storm plopped onto Fries' bed as he was about to drift off to sleep.

"What is it?" he grumbled, his back to her.

She grabbed his shoulder and turned him over to look at her. He reached out a long arm to grab his glasses from the side table and put them on, looking up at her expectantly with slight annoyance.

"Every year this college friend of mine gives a Madrigal party before Christmas. She's really rich and lives in this beautiful old manor. It's up in Leicestershire. So it's a long drive. But West, Taylor, Anastasia and I go every year."

"So?"

"Do you want to come?"

"Sure."

"But you'll need a costume."

"A costume?"

"People dress up as medieval people. We can rent them from a costume shop."

"Uh... okay."

"All right. There're lots of people. About thirty or so. A small group of us have been doing this since college in a way. Not always in that house."

"I see."

Storm sensed he really wanted to get to sleep, so she decided to leave him alone, having gotten a satisfactory answer from him.

The following day, Storm called her friend. "Hi Henrietta. It's Storm."

"Hello, dear. Did you ask your friend?"

"Technically he's my adopted brother, but he's basically just my friend."

"Oh yes, that's right."

"I asked him and he said yes."

"Splendid! Now, this is the person you said you hadn't seen in many years, is that right?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Weren't you afraid he had turned out like a jerk or something?"

"I suppose I was a little worried, yes."

"So what is he like?"

"What is he like?"

"Yes. What does he look like? What does he act like? Is he a gentleman or a shy, stuttering type or what?"

"Oh... well," Storm decided to really tease her friend. "He's really tall. Several inches taller than me. And he has dark brown, straight hair that is cut shaggy, but it looks really adorable on him. He kind of rakes his hands through it as a habit. He has beautiful, dark chocolate brown eyes with exceptionally long lashes for a guy. He's not muscular, but he's not puny either. He wears clothes that flatter his tall, thin figure. Like turtle-necks. And he wears this leather jacket, a nice one, with this grey plaid scarf all the time. He looks the artist somehow. He's very graceful. A lot of people who are tall are awkward and hunch a little. He stands up straight and has this natural grace about him. His hands are long and slender but very strong. They can do absolute wonders on the piano and the guitar."

Storm heard a sigh on the other end of the line. "He sounds like a real hunk!"

"Well, by normal standards, he doesn't have the qualities, but he does manage to look devastatingly handsome with remarkably little effort."

"So I'll see him at the party?"

"Yep. You can see how accurately I described him."

"What is he going to wear?"

"He plays the guitar really beautifully, so I'm thinking of dressing him up as a minstrel. Do you have any other people doing that?"

"Not that I've heard. I think it a lovely idea."

"All right. So that makes five of us driving up and spending the night with you. Is that all right?"

"It's perfectly all right. There's plenty of space here. It'll be wonderful to see you again, dear."

"Same with you. We'll have to catch up on everything."

"We will. I have to run. I'm picking up Mother from the hair dressers."

"We'll see you in a few weeks. Bye."

Storm outfitted Fries with a hat, boots, leggings, a shift, and tunic reaching mid-thigh. Storm would wear a long gown of thick material. Fries had his guitar strapped to his back.

During those two weeks, Stacy met with Martin three times, and slowly built up the trust she had held before. It would never reach the same level, but Stacy was careful.

The day arrived when they would leave for Leicestershire. They brought their costumes with them as well as other clothes to use for the rest of the weekend. Storm posted a note in Wild Iris saying they would be closed and apologizing for the inconvenience. She made some excuse like renovating or family illness.

West, Taylor, Anastasia, Fries, and Storm all met at Anastasia's flat where they would take her car up to Leicestershire. It was a tight squeeze. All luggage was somehow crammed in the boot while five people squashed into the car. Stacy drove first as she was more accustomed to driving in the city, while Taylor sat beside her map reading. Storm sat in the middle of West and Fries in the back. They listened to the radio, freely singing along when the urge hit them.

After they switched and West took Stacy's place, Storm asked if she could stretch out and sleep. Neither Fries nor Stacy minded, so she lay her head on Fries' lap while she curled her legs over Stacy's. Fries felt awkward at first- not knowing where to put his hands, but then he laid one hand on her head while his other rested on her shoulder. She must have slept for several hours as Fries stared contentedly out the window at the English countryside. He liked England, he decided.

She faced mother warily, aware that mother was drunk. She was backed into a corner, against the mildewed wallpaper peeling off the cinderblock walls. 'Get me another drink' came the command. 'Get it yourself' she replied. The sting of the blow felt real. The tang of blood in her mouth tasted real. The words of hate streaming from mother's mouth sounded real. Another blow, this time on her ear, the blocked air created an explosion of pain, deafening her for some time. Finally she escaped and slipped out past the used syringes through the bedroom window, down the fire escape, through the alley... just keep running....

Fries shook Storm awake. She sat up suddenly, looking around her in confusion. Fries watched her. "Are you okay?" he asked.

She covered her eyes and said shakily. "A bad dream."

"West said we're nearly there."

"Good. I need to get out of this car."

"Do you need to get out now? Throw up or something," he asked, cautiously.

She sat upright and bent over, covering her face with her hands and remembering what she had dreamed.

"Don't worry," said Fries. "I wiped the drool off my trousers already."

"What?" she said.

"Just kidding."

Storm leaned over again and groaned, "I really need to get out of this car before I kill someone."

"Only a few more miles, Storm," said West. "I'm just glad the car hasn't broke down this trip."

"West!" yelled Ana. "If you say that, you jinx us and the car will break down!"

"That's nonsense," he replied.

Bang!! Sput, sput, sput, clatter....

"I swear, West, you are pushing this piece of s*** all the way to Box Manor!" yelled Ana.

He pulled over on the side of the motorway. Everybody scrambled out of the car, and Storm and Ana looked underneath the hood.

"What do you think Storm?"

No answer. Their breath just formed silent puffs of mist.

"Storm?"

She was staring at a fixed place. Ana put her gloved hand on Storm's shoulder. Her reaction was startling. "Don't touch me!!" she screamed and jerked away. Suddenly breathing heavily. She began to sob. Again she yelled, "Don't touch me!"

Ana, still shocked, stood still and watched Storm go into hysterics. Storm began to kick the car viciously and pound on the glass windows, without a care to her own safety. She intermittently yelled and sobbed deep, wracking, dry sobs. She was on the side of the car next to the road, and cars were whizzing past at speeds of over seventy miles an hour. A couple honked as they avoided hitting Storm.

Fries ran around the car and grabbed Storm. She broke away and yelled again, "Don't touch me! Don't come near me! I hate you!" her voice cracked from the force of her yell.

Fries grabbed her again and this time held on, forcing her away from the car and away from the road. She struggled violently against him, hitting him, biting him.

"Stop it!" commanded Fries. "Storm, calm down!"

She didn't seem to hear; she just kept writhing and trying to escape Fries' stronghold.

Finally, Fries slapped her sharply. This startled Storm into reality. She stopped her fighting and sank onto Fries, sobbing onto his shoulder. Fries just wrapped his arms around her tightly, rubbing her back and stroking her head soothingly. West, Taylor, and Ana cautiously approached the embraced couple. Ana hesitantly put a hand on Storm's shoulder. Fries looked at them questioningly, seeking some possible explanation for her sudden irrational hysterics. They shrugged. They didn't know.

Eventually, she calmed down and pulled away from Fries. She turned away from her friends and walked over to the guardrail. She leaned against it and wiped her eyes, trying to breath calmly.

Fries approached her. "Better?" he asked.

She nodded slightly.

"Would you mind enlightening me and telling me who this anger is directed toward?"

After a very long silence, she said, "I had a dream about my mother." And that was all.

Fries tried to take her hand in comfort and support but she just snatched it away and said in a tone more like her usual, "I'll walk to the nearest phone and call the AA and Henrietta."

"I'll go with you," said Fries.

"No thanks. I'm fine."

"I need the exercise to keep warm," he replied, and walked beside her along the motorway.

He didn't try talking to her. They just trekked along in silence. She seemed normal, but Fries wanted to talk about it.

After they had called the AA and asked Henrietta to send someone out to pick them up, Fries asked Storm about her recent display of anger.

"Are you going to explain why you were beating up the car and me?"

"I told you. I had a dream about my mother."

"And why should that cause such a reaction?"

"I'm not a f***ing shrink. I don't know. Leave me alone."

"Then maybe you should see a therapist."

"I don't need a f***ing therapist."

"You need help, Storm."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine and I have the bruises and bite marks to prove it!"

"I'm sorry! I didn't know it was you!"

"You're hurting other people, you should see somebody about it."

"For f***'s sake! I don't need help!"

Fries grabbed her arm and turned her to face him harshly. She tried to wriggle away as he pinned his hands on her shoulders and looked intently into her face. "Storm, you are obviously carrying around a lot of anger inside of you. You can't let it build up like that."

She pushed his hands away. "Like you're so clean! I can't believe that somewhere inside of you, you don't hate your parents, or hate the foster parents who beat you, who starved you, who yelled at you." She stabbed his chest with her finger. "It's inside you too, but I don't see you going to a shrink."

"You don't see me having dreams and tantrums!"

"It's still in there! You're still a hypocrite!"

"Storm, I'm trying to help."

"You're not helping. Just let it go. I'm fine, don't talk about it." She walked along the motorway at a fast pace away from Fries. He jogged and caught up with her, knowing she would never back down.

The AA soon came and towed the car away. Taylor and Ana went with the car while West, Storm and Fries waited to be picked up by Henrietta.

"You should take up kick boxing," said West, a bit out of the blue.

"Ahhh!" yelled Storm. "I'm fine! Stop treating me like I'm insane!"

West realised it was bad timing and shut his mouth.

"Henrietta!"

"Storm! It's so lovely to see you. It's too bad your car broke down."

"Well, actually it's Anastasia's." Storm hugged her friend, then added with a glare at him, "And it would have been fine if West hadn't jinxed us."

West grinned childishly, gave his dreadlocks an impressive shake for show-off's sake, and then gave Henrietta a big bear hug. "Oh, I've missed you so much!" he cried.

"Get off you lying bastard," she laughed. "If you missed me you might write or call."

"I'm a busy man, my dear."

"This is Fries. Fries, this is Henrietta Gaits."

"At last we meet," Henrietta said melodramatically, and curtseyed low with her imaginary skirts.

Fries looked at Storm and West to see if this was a joke, but then bowed a little and said, "Nice to meet you."

Henrietta straightened up and said, "Come, we must get you settled at Box Manor."

They moved their bags from the side of the road into the boot of Henrietta's large, expensive sedan. Storm got in the front with Henrietta and they chatted about old times at college while Henrietta half paid attention to the road.

Fries leaned over to West and in a low voice asked, "Have you ever seen Storm act like that before?"

"Not for many months now."

"When did it start?"

"After Frank."

Fries heard the conversation in the front of the car stop and looked up to see Storm's face close to his, glaring at him.

Fries smiled charmingly at her and sat back into the corner of the large backseat.

Ten minutes later they turned off the motorway and picked up Stacy and Taylor from the mechanic's. Stacy sat in the front and talked with Henrietta while Storm sat on West's lap in between Taylor and Fries in the backseat.

Thankfully, the drive to Box Manor was short. Fries looked out of the window as they approached a large medieval manor. It was made of an attractive light grey stone, with tall lead diamond pane windows, a slate roof, and an impressive set of large oak doors at the front. The manor was situated harmoniously in the old forest of the surrounding park. There were few formal gardens.

Henrietta pulled up to the front and everyone tumbled out of the car. They got their things out of the boot and followed Henrietta through the now open oak front doors. Fries found himself in a tall hallway with a wide sweeping stone staircase going up three flights. To his left was another pair of massive doors leading to the great hall. Henrietta led them up the stairs. They were worn in the middle from centuries of feet using them. On the first floor, Henrietta showed them to their bedrooms. Taylor and West shared one while the other three each got their own.

Fries looked around his bedchamber. It had a small window looking to the back of the house over the small garden and on to the woods. Tapestries, not original ancient ones, but tapestries nonetheless, covered the stone walls, and the bed was four-poster, with heavy drapes that could be pulled closed. It looked short for his frame. He laid down on it, and found it had to have been at least seven feet long. It was deceptive to look at it though. A wooden chest stood at the foot of the bed, and a matching wooden wardrobe stood in the corner. In the opposite corner was a desk with a chair. An inkwell, two quills prepared, and several sheets of old-looking parchment lay on the surface. It looked like he was living in history.

Fries left his room to look for Storm. He found her two doors down in a similar room to his own. She saw him leaning on the doorframe.

"Interesting place, isn't it?"

"How does Henrietta live in a place like this?"

"You mean how can she stand it or how does it come to her possession?"

"Both."

"She loves history. Go down to the library and you'll find masses of history books, especially from 1066 to about 1600. And she inherited a lot of money, bought this place and fixed it up. It's her passion. She's rich enough to have some servants help with this place."

"It's incredible!"

"I love it."

"So what is the schedule here?"

"Tomorrow night is the Dinner. Since we see so little of Hen, we always tend to come for the weekend to catch up and visit. We'll probably have a fancy meal in the Hall tonight, and then sit around the fire talking, you'll be invited to play some, just a relaxing evening. Tomorrow we'll be getting ready for the Dinner."

"What exactly is this Dinner like?"

"You'll see."

"I don't want to see. I want to know beforehand."

"We'll discuss it later. Come on, you need a tour of the place."

They left the room. Henrietta was eager to show off her manor. Most of it was kept to the historical period with either genuine antiques or replicas. There was the cavernous Great Hall, with a huge fireplace, a high ceiling, small windows, large tapestries, and a dais at the end where a long wooden table with one large throne-like chair stood in the centre. Doors hidden behind the tapestries enabled servants to come and go unnoticed.

The library was small by most large estate standards, but must have held several thousand books anyway. It was a more intimate environment with comfortable chairs and sofas, a rug, a large fireplace, shelves full of books. The living room had more comfortable chairs, another fireplace, and a grand piano in the corner, which Fries inspected with keen interest. On the first floor, the long gallery held portraits of the residents of the manor over the centuries. Henrietta's study held a clutter of books, papers, and a computer on a desk.

They settled down in the living room before supper, talking and catching up. They talked of university days and recent happenings. Fries quietly listened to their reminiscences with amusement. He could easily imagine Storm as a radical student.

For supper, Mrs. Gaits, the somewhat elderly, deaf widowed mother of Henrietta, joined them in the Great Hall. They sat near the fire, eating duck, potatoes, and brussel sprouts. The others had a fine wine while Fries and Storm settled for fizzy grape juice.

After supper, they retired to the living room, and Fries obliged them all with a few pieces on the piano. Soon, everyone went to bed but for Storm and Henrietta.

"So, how was my description of Fries? Fairly accurate?"

"Yes, pretty good. How do you like him?"

"I like him a lot. I didn't expect to since we tend to have very different opinions. But he's sweet and easy going, intelligent, very talented, and at times, he can show his funny side."

"He's quiet, but seems to be a nice boy."

"He's hardly a boy, Hen. He's 24 or something?"

"So are there any interesting men in your life yet?"

"No," she said emphatically. "I am quite happy without men, thank you."

"You shouldn't push them all away, Storm."

"I don't see you with boyfriends."

"I'm an eccentric academic, I don't need a boyfriend. It doesn't fit my stereotype."

"Well I'm an independent bookstore owner, so I don't need them either."

"But I would at least give them a chance."

"Are you saying I don't?"

"Yes."

"What do you mean by that?" challenged Storm.

"Merely that you still have the walls you built around yourself after Frank. And they need to come down."

"Rubbish."

"Not rubbish. Common sense."

There was a long pause while Storm just stared into the flames in the fireplace, hypnotised by them. Her eyes began to droop and soon she said, "I'm going to go to bed. I'm exhausted."

"I'll see you in the morning then. Good night."

"Good night."

It snowed several inches during the night. Fries woke up and pulled aside the bed curtains. From his position he could see the pure white blanket of the first snow of the winter. He got up, and pulled on his long underwear and a pair of jeans. A turtleneck and then a woolen jumper warmed his upper body. He raked a comb through his hair, pulled on thick socks and his boots. Then he trotted over to Storm's door and knocked. No answer. He opened it. Her bed curtains were still closed.

"Storm," he called.

No answer.

"Storm," he said a little louder.

"Hmmm," came a muffled a sound.

"Come on, Storm, wake up."

"What is it?" she mumbled.

Fries pulled open the bed-curtain nearest the window. "Snow! Come on, let's go for a walk in it."

She buried her head under the pillow. "F*** off, Fries. It's still early."

He pulled the pillow away. "Get dressed warmly and let's go for a walk."

"I don't want to go for a walk."

"You've been in the city too long. It's beautiful!"

"You're too f***ing chipper."

"Trust me. You'll thank me."

"Go away!"

"I'll give you ten minutes and if you're not up, I'm going to dump cold water on you."

No answer.

Storm did eventually get up and dressed. She was still grumpy and still cursing Fries, but she was up. She stopped short when she saw him.

"What?" he said when he caught her stare.

"Well, A, you haven't shaved. And B, you're wearing jeans."

"So?"

"I've never seen you wear jeans before, and you're always cleanly shaven."

"It's the crack of dawn and I'm going on a hike through the woods, so I'm not going to wear my nice trousers, and I'll bathe and shave when I get back."

"I'm not arguing. I'm just not used to seeing a casual Fries."

"You ready?"

"I just need to get my coat."

They left the Manor, and walked over the freshly fallen snow, leaving footprints behind them. They paused to look back at the Manor, with its slate roof covered in snow.

"It looks very..."

"Medieval."

"Yes. I feel as if I could be looking back in time," said Fries.

"Well, there are a few peasants and animals missing, but I can see what you mean."

"It's beautiful."

"It has its own beauty, yes."

"Come on."

Storm trudged after him. "Do you know where we're going?"

"Nope."

"Aren't you afraid we'll get lost?"

"Nope."

The forest they walked through was very quiet. It was peaceful. They went at a slow, leisurely pace. Storm had to admit she liked doing this. And it seemed special to do this with Fries. If the others had come, the magic would have been spoiled somehow.

The sky was extraordinarily clear for an English winter. It made the atmosphere all the more magical.

"Look," said Fries, quietly. "Tracks of a rabbit."

"How do you know?"

"I've seen them before. And look over there... you can see the tracks of deer. They would have been looking for food through here early this morning."

"How do you know this?"

"I love going on walks in the country. When I get the chance, if I'm performing somewhere and have some time, I will take a walk in the country. It's a sort of inspiration to me. I think of places like these when I play my music, and I try and convey the emotions that I felt at the time through my music."

"Wow. Does it work?"

"I don't know. You'd have to listen and hear for yourself. Music is such a subjective activity. Everyone's tastes are different. One person will love the way I play, and the person next to them will hate it. Neither is wrong, it's just their opinion. It's the same with all art."

"Do you ever wish you could be doing something else for a living?"

"Not really. I get to do what I love for a living. Do you wish you were doing something else?"

"Well, it doesn't seem like much of a career to be a bookstore owner. But as long as I stay in business and I can make a decent living from it, I enjoy doing what I do."

"That's good then. Would there be ways you could improve? Like expand and open a second store?"

"I don't think so. First of all, I'm not sure if I would want to take that kind of risk. But I also don't think it would succeed. My bookstore is a niche market and it's good being in a city where there is a high concentration of the type of people who buy my merchandise. A second store would just take customers away from my first one and wouldn't add that many customers. And another location would be difficult to manage and risky to succeed in a place not like London."

"I can see your point."

They were silent for a while, just walking through the woods in peace.

Then Fries said, "So tell me about the history of this event."

"The Madrigal Dinner?"

"Yeah."

"In university, Henrietta and I had a women's history course together. And she's a lot of fun, and we became friends. She convinced me and Anastasia to join the Madrigal choir. I've never sung in a choir before, but it was fun. We learned the madrigals and every Christmas time, we put on a performance. People would pay about twenty-five pounds, and they would get a nice meal and we would sing the madrigals of old."

"What are madrigals exactly?"

"Madrigals were really common in the Elizabethan time. They're essentially Elizabethan songs, but the Madrigal Dinner can also have a lot of medieval elements. Our costumes are more early Renaissance than Elizabethan. Anyway, there are certain traditional madrigals that we always sang, and then ones we changed out. There's the Wassail madrigal, which is sung when the wassail bowl is brought out and everyone gets some and we do the toasts."

Fries sighed in exasperation. "What's wassail?"

"A kind of alcoholic drink that was made in the winter time. Wassailing was sort of like caroling nowadays."

"Um, okay."

"Then there's the Boar's Head Carol. And that's sung when the Boar's Head comes in."

"Do you have a real boar's head?"

"We use a stuffed boar's head, yes. The meat you'll eat will probably be regular pork. And then we sing the Blessing. After the main meal, there's the Flaming Pudding. It's a fruit cake pudding that is set alight. Finally, everyone joins hands and sings God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman or Silent Night or sometimes both."

"What happens in between all that?"

"There's eating, talking, more singing, playing instruments (like you), and dancing. Henrietta hires an ensemble of chamber musicians to play from the minstrels gallery."

"Wow."

"Yep. She goes all out."

"I'm starting to actually look forward to it?"

"What, before now you were dreading it?"

"Yeah."

"I guess I should have told you sooner."

"Yep."

They walked for a while longer in silence.

"Have you ever been so moved by something that it made you cry? Or at least had tears in your eyes?"

"You mean something unusual, not a relationship difficulty or something?"

"Yeah. Like music or something you saw."

Storm thought about it for a few minutes. "I remember this one time when I was watching BBC news, and they showed the peace signing of these two groups of people in this one African country. And there was a room full of people, and two men in uniform exchanged documents, and hugged each other. They had been at war for so long, and yet there they were, hugging and smiling. It brought tears to my eyes."

Fries studied her face, made beautiful by the touching serenity felt all over again.

"It gave me hope that other continually warring nations will also someday put aside their weapons and join together in peace. Like India and Pakistan, Israel and Palestine, Columbia, and Angola."

"Do you not believe in fighting at all?"

"I'm a pacifist. If women were given full equality and expected to go to war like men, and if my number was called, and if it was a cause I really didn't believe in, like the Vietnam War, then I would have no hesitation to just leave the country. Or stay in jail. It would be better than getting killed over nothing. But if it was a cause I did believe in, or for the survival of my country, like in World War II, then I would serve in a nonviolent way."

"What about social ostracism?"

"F*** society. I don't give a f*** what other people think. You know that."

"But if you were spat upon and totally despised by everyone in your village or something, then I think you would change your mind."

"If it meant I was alive to enjoy it, then it'd be worth it." She started to get worked up and animated over the subject. "I mean, if everyone who had enough sense and courage to stand up to the f***ing nonsense, then there wouldn't be war!! It's so f***ing stupid! We go out and f***ing blow each other's heads off for what??? F***ing religion?? When it says in the Bible in clear words from God, Thou shalt not kill?? For f***ing land? Which is so f***ing selfish it's unbelievable! For f***ing ideology? When Martin Luther King Jr. was able to change an oppressive regime without violence? It doesn't even f***ing work! The G**d*** f***ing IRA have been bombing people for decades and they still haven't got what they wanted!!"

Fries, stifling his laughter at her, put an arm around her shoulders. "Calm down, little girl! Geez."

Storm sighed a huge sigh and then growled in frustration.

Fries couldn't hold it in any longer. He started to laugh. And laugh. And laugh some more.

"What the f*** is it?" she snapped, still in her worked up state.

Through his peels of laughter, tears streaming down his face, Fries managed to point a long finger at her.

"What? What?"

He couldn't answer.

"F*** you, Fries!" she yelled, and stalked off through the snow. She paused, stooped over to pick up something, then the next thing he knew, a snowball smacked into Fries' face.

He stopped laughing and looked aghast at Storm. Now it was her turn to laugh uncontrollably at the look on his face.

Fries knew how to deal with this. He scooped up a handful of snow in his gloved hands, and began to pack it into a tight ball. Then he looked up and SMACK! another ball of cold, icy snow hit his face making him drop the one he'd just made.

That did it. He took off after her. Storm screamed, turned tail and ran. It only took a couple of minutes for him to catch up to her. She was fast, but wearing boots and running through six inches of snow hampered her. Fries just persisted steadily after her, glowering menacingly so that each time Storm looked back at him, she screamed, laughed a little more, and lost more ground.

THUMP! Fries leapt on top of her, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her down with him. He grabbed a handful of snow and smashed it into her face and hair. She screamed again, grinning all the while. Fries was loving this. Well, until she wriggled from his grasp, pinned him on the snow and sat on top of him. She grabbed some snow and lifted her arm to throw it down on his face. He caught her arm and held it. She scooped some more snow in her left hand but he caught that arm too. They struggled against each other.

"Grrr. Let go!!" she shouted at him.

"Yeah right! You let go of the snow."

"I will let go of the snow as soon as you let go of me!"

"You'll let it go on my face you mean."

She managed to move one pair of their struggling arms over his head so she just opened her fist and let the snow fall down on him. Bullseye.

"Storm!!"

"You started it!"

"I did not, you did."

He managed to roll her over, turn her on her stomach and smash her face in the snow. But only for a few seconds before she kicked him on the butt.

"Ow!"

She got up and pounced on him. Again, he was caught by surprise and this time found himself pinned facedown on the snow with her sitting on top of him. She caught his arms and pulled them round across his back.

"Ow! Storm! I swear, if you injure me so I can't play...."

She realized he had a very valid point there, and eased up a little. "Do you plead mercy, dear boy?"

"No!"

"Then what are you going to do?"

Fries paused his struggling, both of them quiet as they panted in the cold air. He relaxed as if defeated. This made her relax. He tensed up again suddenly and managed to wrench his arms free, put them down and heave himself up onto his knees, toppling her in the act.

Fries grabbed another handful of snow, pulled on the collar of her sweater and turtleneck, and stuffed the snow down her back, then pressing the clothing to her as she screamed. He laughed and then stood up to jog away from her reach. She slowly, gingerly stood, pulled out her turtleneck from her jeans, and shook it to let the remaining snow fall out. She was gasping in shock and cold. She turned, and Fries caught her deadly stare of revenge. He decided not to wait to see what she would do, and ran off.

She followed in hot pursuit, determined to catch him if she died trying. She nearly did she was panting so hard. Fries tripped over a snow-hidden log and sprawled harmlessly on the snow. As she went to pin him down again, he took her momentum and rolled her over so he was pinning her down. She quickly grabbed some snow and smeared it in his face, but he didn't let go of his hold. Finally he pinned her arms down on the snow. They glared at each other, panting hard.

As Fries gazed down at her, he felt a mysterious tingling feeling that wasn't numbness from the cold come over him. He felt a thrill just being with her. He felt closer to her than he had ever felt close to anyone, even William and Elizabeth. Fear swept over him. What was he thinking? What was going on? He decided to end this game now.

"Truce?" he asked.

Reluctantly, she said, "Truce, I guess."

He got up and reached down an arm to help her up. She looked at it suspiciously.

"I won't do anything," he promised.

She took it, and he lifted her out of the snow. He brushed some of it off her hair, careful to avoid looking at her face.

He pulled away and started to walk back to the Manor. "We should be getting home. It's late."

Storm trudged behind him.

They walked in silence for several minutes. Then Storm asked, "Do you believe that there is someone out there for everyone? Their perfect match that they just have to find?"

Fries looked at her sharply, momentarily and irrationally afraid that she had somehow read his mind earlier. "What do you mean?" he replied, hoping he wouldn't have to answer the question.

"Well, you know how in stories and movies and things, the guy will tell the girl, 'You complete me' or something like that. It's like... people aren't whole people until they find this match- this... other half that is out there somewhere. And if your other half is killed or you don't find them, then you live the rest of your life as only half a person."

"I don't believe that. I think that lovers complement each other, not complete. I think everyone is whole in themselves, and a life partner is just that- a partner. They help you through life's difficulties, they are there for support, for love, for encouragement, for comfort, for entertainment, for companionship. And sometimes they are there to be the mother or father of the children. To help in the task of raising them."

"What about the people who are single all their lives? Did they fail to find that partner, or is there just not one out there for them?"

"Some people are fine on their own. They enjoy living a different lifestyle. Some people lose their partners and never get over it."

"Oh."

They walked on in silence for a while. Then Fries said, "Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering what you thought," was her only reply.

Again, Fries had that irrational question in his head. Did she read his mind?

"What do I do if I broke the teabag?"

"What?"

"I broke the teabag. What do I do?"

"I don't know. Tape it."

Storm started to search the kitchen for tape. She found some brown packing tape. "Ok... so I tape the bag shut?"

"I guess. I don't know. Why don't you just throw it away and get a new one?"

"Because that would be wasteful!" she exclaimed.

She taped the ripped hole shut and put it into the mug. Then she poured the boiling water over it.

"Um... I don't think that worked."

Fries got up from the table to look over her shoulder into her mug. It was swimming with little brown bits, the piece of tape loose in the centre. He chuckled. "Get another one then."

Storm sighed in exasperation, tipped the liquid into the sink and then dumped the broken teabag into the rubbish bin. She got a new one out, and proceeded to make her tea.

They were warming themselves by the fire after their morning excursion in the snow. The others had already awoken and looked at the couple coming in front the cold outdoors in amusement. Fries had staunchly defended their activities, and promptly headed to the fire to warm up.

Stacy turned to Henrietta and asked, "What can we do to help you get ready?"

"Well, dear, we need to spread the rushes on the hall floor, and make sure the tables are set in the right positions. The candles need to be set out and the torches on the wall."

"Are you having lit torches? As in fire?" asked Taylor.

"No, no. They're electric but are made to look like fire. It's much too much of a fire hazard what with the rushes on the floor and everything."

"When do the guests start to arrive?" asked Fries.

"Around six this evening, so we should be dressed in our costumes by then. Now, Fries."

"Yes?"

"You're going to play for us tonight, aren't you?"

"What? On the piano or the guitar?"

"Both."

"Both? I thought the piano wasn't invented until much later on."

Henrietta looked kind of hesitant. "Yes... well... this once I think we could make an exception to the rules. We've never had a concert pianist as one our guests before."

"I'd be happy to oblige you with some piano music if you tell me what you want played."

"Oh, goodness, I couldn't do that. You pick something appropriate."

Fries looked dubious, but didn't say anything. He left the room to go shower and shave.

The group of friends scurried around making the manor ready for the dinner that evening. West chopped wood outside and brought in a pile to light the huge fires in the hearth of the great hall. Stacy and Henrietta beat the tapestries of dust and hung them on the walls of the hall. Storm cleaned the minstrel's gallery and made it ready for use. Taylor set the tables while Fries went through a selection of period music Henrietta had in her library archives.

When Storm had finished her task she sought out Fries and found him learning a piece in the living room. She leaned her elbows on the grand piano and watched him intently playing. She hadn't seen him play on his beloved instrument since before she had gone to university. Needless to say, he had improved greatly. She continued to watch him in fascination. His eyes concentrated on the notes on the pages steadfastly. Every now and then his tongue would peak out between his lips from the effort.

When he had finished running through the piece, he looked up at her through his spectacles. He raised an eyebrow in query.

"I came to see what you were up to," she replied to his questioning look.

"What did you think of that piece?"

"It's beautiful, but if you're trying to find one for tonight, I don't think that one works."

"I don't know what I'm looking for though."

"Why don't you hear some of the madrigals that we commonly sing so it will give you the feel for the kind of music these things are."

"Ok. Do you have the notes written down?"

"Of course, silly. We don't learn them by ear. We were a proper singing ensemble."

"Okay, I'm sorry. Let me see the music. I'm feeling rushed for time."

Storm went off and came back with several copied sheets of music. Fries took them from her and looked through the music. He put one upon the stand and began to play through the four-part harmony perfectly at first sight. Storm was impressed in spite of herself. When he had finished the short tune, he played through bits of it again, and then began to improvise around the melody, adding different harmonies. Gradually he added different variations to the same tune.

Storm's jaw dropped. She didn't know that was possible. She 'knew' Fries was good but she didn't really know it.

"How... how... how do you do that?" she stammered.

Fries looked up from the keys with a bewildered face. "How do I do what?"

"That!" she said, pointing to his hands flitting across the keys.

"I don't know. I just do," he said. "It's like me asking you how you ride a bicycle. You just know."

"Nearly anyone can learn to ride a bicycle. I've never seen anyone do that before. I didn't know it was possible!"

"Oh, well now you do."

Storm couldn't tell if he was just too modest, or whether it was honestly so simple for him he didn't think twice about it.

"Well, that seems perfect for you to play in front of the guests tonight."

"What? These twiddles??"

"Whatever it is you're playing now. It's fun, they're tunes we know, and it sounds wonderful."

"If you want. I was looking for something more... I don't know, more difficult I guess."

"What is easy to you sounds difficult to the untrained ear."

"I guess."

"Come on. We need to get dressed before the guests arrive."

Fries groaned.

"What?" she asked. "I thought you didn't mind your costume."

"I lied. After trying on so many, I just gave in and took the most tolerable one. Come on, Storm! Tights??"

"They're not tights, they're thin leggings."

"Whatever. I mean, I know I'm not the most masculine of men, but I do have my dignity!"

"Most of the other men will be wearing them too. And a lot of them are a lot more insecure about their manhood than you are. Besides, the only time your legs are noticed at all is during the dancing, and even then, there are so many skirts around you it doesn't matter."

"Dancing?"

"Yes, you knew there was going to be dancing."

"What kind of dancing?"

"Period dancing."

"As in, steps-that-I-don't-know dancing?"

"Well... um... yes."

"So I'll just sit the dances out then."

"Oh no you won't. There are too few men anyway. Come on, I'll just have to teach you some of the steps here."

"No, Storm. I don't think so."

"You're an incredibly artistic and graceful man anyway, why are you complaining?" Storm exclaimed.

She took his hand and pulled him off the piano bench and away from his security blanket (the piano). "Now," she said. "All the men stand on one side in a line and the women in a line facing them. Then the music starts and you step forward with your left foot...."

An agonizing hour later, Fries knew enough of some of the dances to pass. Storm had to stop her tutoring in order that they could get dressed in time. They went up to their rooms and took out their costumes.

Twenty minutes later, Fries knocked on Storm's door. "Are you ready?"

"Uh... no. But come in anyway."

Fries opened the door and poked his head in. Storm was standing in petticoats and what looked like hoops. She had on a corset and was attempting to tie it. "Can you help me?"

Fries' mouth went dry. It wasn't like he'd not seen her in thin tank tops and boxers or anything. But to see a woman essentially in her underclothes, albeit in underclothes of the 14th century, was a little disconcerting.

Storm turned around to look at him. She raised an eyebrow as if to say, 'I'm waiting'. She looked him over, appreciating his tall, thin figure in leggings and a black velvet tunic reaching to midthigh. His cream shirtsleeves billowed and flowed gracefully to match the wearer. The gold embroidery on the tunic glittered in the dim light of the room. His matching hat was balled up in his hands, which hung limply by his side as he stared at Storm.

He caught her look and startled out of his daze. He put his cap on the bed and came forward, completely unsure of what to do.

Storm held out the two bottom strings. "Pull these as hard as you can."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Isn't that going to hurt?"

"Yes. But tonight is my one night in the entire year that I obey all the f***ing sexist rules. Tonight is when I become what a female is supposed to be. F***ing squashed and squeezed and forced into what men think is beautiful."

"Are you sure?" Fries hesitated, holding the strings in his hands and looking at her reflection in the mirror.

"Yes. Come on, I don't want to be late."

Fries began to pull a little bit.

"Harder," she said.

He pulled a little harder.

"F*** it, Fries, I said pull harder."

"I am pulling harder."

She stopped him. "Hang on. Let me grab hold of something stable." She walked over to the bedpost and wrapped her hands around it. "Now pull as hard as you can."

"I don't want to hurt you," he protested.

"Trust me, I'll tell you when to stop."

She sucked her breath and Fries pulled as hard as he could.

Still holding her breath she said, "Now tie it fast."

Fries quickly tied the strings in a bow and stepped back. Storm did not have big breasts by any means and usually people would say she was almost flat chested. But the effect of the corset pushed what she did have up to form two rounded mounds near the top of the undergarment. Her waist looked sickeningly small.

She tried breathing a little but found it difficult. Fries' face still showed horror and concern.

"Will you help me put the gown on?"

Fries picked up the gown from the bed and found the opening. He lifted it over her head and lowered it down. She pulled at it gently until it settled on her waist. Then she settled the skirts carefully onto the hoops and put her arms through the sleeves. The neckline just barely covered the corset, leaving her chest exposed still. She turned her back to Fries as an indication of her request to button her gown up. He began work on the thirty-odd tiny buttons running up the back of the gown.

"Why didn't you have Anastasia do this? I'm sure women had maids not manservants to do this stuff."

"Yes, but Anastasia has to do all of this too, and you were already ready."

"Hmph."

There was a pause.

"This is unbelievable," he muttered under his breath as he nearly got halfway.

"Buttons were a sign of wealth," she explained.

"Not anymore. Why couldn't the costume people have made it velcro or something!"

Storm laughed and then abruptly stopped saying, "Ow, f***!"

"What? It hurts to laugh?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

"Yeah, but it's ok. I just have to get used to wearing this f***ing thing."

"Why don't I loosen it a little?"

"No. I'm conforming to the norms and I'm going to do it properly."

"Storm, you're conforming to the norms of the 14th century. I hardly think it matters if you loosen your corset enough to breathe and laugh!"

"I won't be outdone."

"Outdone? Are you telling me that there are some other women here who you want to best? You have to have the smallest waist in the hall, is that it?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Fries," she said, but didn't sound convincing.

"I can't believe this. You really are obeying society's rules tonight aren't you? Well in that case, don't all women have to have a date when going to a social function?"

He could not believe he was saying this. He was suggesting that he be her date.

"That's true. You must be my escort then."

She had taken the bait. Was that really what he had wanted? He was happy to be her escort.

He finished the buttons and turned her around so he could look at her. The gown was a beautiful scarlet decorated with gold needlework and pearls sewn into the fabric. The skirt flowed downward making it look like she didn't have any hoops. Her sleeves were puffy and slits showed creamy white fabric beneath. She looked nothing like his Storm. Except for the hair and the diamond nosestud. He asked what she was going to do with them.

"Well, I don't want to take my nosestud out because then I'll have this ugly looking hole there. But I have either a wig or just a hairpiece to cover my short hair."

She took them out. The wig was dark brown and already styled into a period hair style. The other thing was a headband with a veil going behind it, which would effectively cover her very short hair. She tried them both on and asked Fries' opinion. He preferred the headpiece to the wig. So she secured to her head with elastic going under her chin. She couldn't bobbypin it to her hair.

Finally, she put on some pearl bob earrings and necklace that accentuated her new cleavage. She slipped her shoes on and curtseyed low before Fries in a surprisingly flawless manner.

"My lord, I am ready."

Fries smiled, and bowed low. "It would be an honor to escort you to dinner."

He grabbed his hat, put it on, and then offered her his arm. She gracefully took it and they walked out of the door. As they walked down the front stairs together, he said in his most affected voice, "Have I told you how exquisitely lovely you look this evening Miss Bennet?"

"You have not, Mr. Bennet."

"Your waist in particular looks very small."

"F*** Fries! You mustn't say something like that," she exclaimed.

"Then you mustn't say naughty words like the f- word."

"Fine."

Chapter Eight

They walked into the hall, now resplendently decorated as a 15th century banqueting hall. The fire was blazing cheerily and the tables were prepared. There were even a couple of dogs already nosing around the rushes for things to eat.

"Where did she get those?" laughed Fries.

"Rented them from a neighbour I expect," snorted Storm.

Henrietta, looking regal in an emerald green gown, came forward and took Storm's hand. "My dear Lady Bennet, it is marvelous to see you!" she exclaimed.

"And you. Allow me to introduce some minstrel I happened to pick up on my way to your estate."

Fries harrumphed.

"Ok," amended Storm. "This is the esteemed Frecio Bennato from Venice. Frecio, this is the Duchess of York."

Fries took Henrietta's hand and bowed over it gallantly, kissing it and then returning it to its owner. Henrietta smiled broadly.

"Oh! This is such fun! I must say this is the highlight of my year."

Soon, people began arriving, all dressed in similar costume. Fries retreated to a corner of the hall while he watched Storm greet old friends and new acquaintances. Then Anastasia's entrance distracted him. She looked lovely in a flattering gown of pale yellow and dark blue. Her hair was done up beautifully in a crown of braids with faux jewels studding it.

Finally, after most of the guests had arrived, Taylor and West entered the hall arm in arm. Taylor was dressed as a mysterious traveler from the Far East, wearing a white robe adorned with unusual patterns. Taylor was dressed in scholarly robes, having just worn his graduation robe and hood. It looked original though.

A group of early instrument players were the minstrels playing in the gallery above the hall. The music wafted pleasantly around the great hall, providing a background to the soft talking of the guests.

After twenty minutes, a trumpet fanfare sounded loudly. Fries looked up in surprise to see three liveried trumpeters playing from the minstrels' gallery. Silence ensued after the fanfare and the Duchess of York (Henrietta) asked that everyone be seated.

There was an excited bustle as people moved to take their seats. Fries was seated beside Taylor on one side and a small woman with a pleasant face and a contagious smile on his other side. Storm was seated at the high table on the dais, a few seats away from the Duchess of York at the centre.

The minstrels gave an introduction and then suddenly most of the guests began to sing a song. Fries looked around. Taylor was singing, and he could hear West on Taylor's other side singing with gusto. The lady beside him had a lovely voice. Fries felt embarrassed about not knowing the song. Taylor seemed to sense his friend's discomfort and said to him in a low voice, "It's quite all right if you don't know it. Several people who have been new over the years don't. I wouldn't know them if West hadn't made me memorize them."

Fries nodded in understanding, feeling a little better.

When the song ended, everyone sat down and Henrietta stood to make a speech welcoming everyone to Box Manor. Then she called for the fanfare to be sounded for the Wassail bowl.

Again, the trumpets blared out a fanfare, and then a servant walked in wearing peasant clothes and carrying a silver platter with a silver bowl on top. As he came in, everyone began singing a song Fries recognized from the music he had skimmed through that afternoon. It was the Wassail Song and had several verses. The servant came up to the high table, bowed before the Duchess and then set it before her.

Fries suddenly realized that other servants were walking in through the hidden doors behind the tapestries. They served some drink into everyone's cup while the song wound to a close.

Henrietta began a toast. "I would like to propose a toast to friends and family gathering together during this festive season."

Everyone raised their glasses and shouted, "To friends and family!"

Another man stood up at the high table and said in a booming voice, "I propose a toast to Her Majesty the Queen!"

"To the Queen!" everyone shouted.

Another man stood up and said, "I propose a toast to lovely ladies," waggling his eyebrows. People laughed and then the men shouted, "To the ladies!"

Storm stood up. "In that case, we should make a toast to handsome men."

The ladies cried out, "To handsome men!"

Fries caught Storm's eye and she winked at him as she sipped her wassail.

With the toasts over, the fanfare was sounded for the boar's head.

As everyone sang the Boar's Head Carol, the same servant came in bearing a large stuffed boar's head with an apple in its mouth. Again, the servant bowed before the Duchess and placed the Boar's Head on the high table.

When the carol was finished, the gentleman to the Duchess' left stood and told the tale of the boar's head tradition.

"One cold midwinter's afternoon, a young student was studying Aristotle in a wood when he looked up to see a wild boar bearing down on him. In his only defense, the student shoved the book into the boar's mouth, thus choking it to death. In tradition, we have boar for our supper."

Servants began serving the main course to the tables, starting with the high table. The minstrels began to play pieces again and everyone took this as their cue that the ceremony of the first part was over and they began to talk amongst themselves.

The lady beside Fries turned to him and said, "Hello. I'm the Contessa de la Garza. Well, actually my name is Myra, but tonight, I'm a countess from Spain."

"Uh... I'm Frecio Bennato of Venice."

"Wow, how thrilling. You must be the renowned minstrel who is going to play for us."

Fries looked astonished. "How did you know that?"

"Everyone's been talking about it this evening."

"Oh."

"So, who are you really?"

"Fries Bennet."

"What do you do in real life?"

"I am a musician in real life, too, actually."

"Really! What do you play?"

"I am a concert pianist, but I also play some guitar."

The Contessa's eyes grew wide. She turned to the man sitting beside her and whispered, "Tony! Oh... my... gosh!! I'm sitting next to a concert pianist!"

"That's nice dear," he said absentmindedly, and then returned to his discussion about Japanimation with his friend.

Myra turned back looking rather flushed. She smiled her contagious smile again, and Fries couldn't help smiling back. He decided to turn his attention to his food. Between mouthfuls, he asked her, "So what do you do in real life?"

"I teach math."

"That's pretty neat," Fries said.

"You're only saying that to be polite."

"No, I'm not. Mathematics is supposed to be close to music. In a way it is, since you have measures and beats per measure and note values and all sorts of stuff like that."

"Yes, I know. But you won't find many people obsessed with music who love doing math."

For some time they chatted, occasionally Taylor would enter the conversation and every now and then Myra would say something to her husband.

When the main course had been cleared away, a group of four stood up and began to sing a madrigal about a silver swan. It was lovely and enjoyable. When they had finished everyone clapped. Then another group gathered in the center of the collection of tables to sing 'My Bonnie Lass Smelleth'.

After several madrigals had been sung with various degrees of success, the Duchess of York stood and called for attention.

"We have in this hall tonight, a distinguished musician of our day, Frecio Bennato, more commonly known as Fries Bennet." To him, she asked, "Would you all do us the honour of playing a piece?"

Fries flushed. He had performed many times in public, but this was entirely different for some reason. Well, I'll tell you one reason, Fries didn't feel particularly dashing in a pair of tights- I'm sorry, leggings. Everyone clapped enthusiastically as he stood and accepted his guitar from a servant. A chair and footrest was prepared for him in front of the dais in the centre of the room. He sat down, arranged the footrest and propped his guitar on his thigh. He plucked the first string and began to tune it gently. He plucked it again, and twisted the tuning knob again. One more time he plucked the string and was satisfied with its sound. He did this with the other four strings until he could play a C chord with perfect harmony.

He settled his guitar again, and then began to play a lively little piece in A flat major. It wasn't very long, and not particularly difficult for him, but it suited the time period. When he had finished, everyone applauded loudly. He smiled and nodded, tweaked the tuning a bit more, and then prepared to do a second song amidst silence in the hall.

The second piece was slower and more melancholy. It was quite beautiful, especially in such a setting. Storm wished she had a video camera to record such a surreal moment.

Again, when it had finished the hall erupted in applause. He stood and bowed, then returned to his humble seat at the table. Taylor clapped him on the back and said, "That really was marvelous. Somehow I never pictured you to be so good at guitar."

Fries didn't know how to respond to that, so he just smiled and said thank you. Myra gushed and said, "That was beautiful! I wish I could play like that. Will you not play another one?"

"No. I have not built up the calluses for playing that long."

"But you are going to play the piano tonight, are you not?"

"Yes I think so."

A fanfare sounded, and the people at the high table began to sing the flaming pudding carol. Fries turned to watch the same servant bring in a large fruitcake alight with blue flames. He carried it carefully to the high table and set it gently before the Duchess. The flames were out by the time the song had ended, while the cake was served by the servants to the lower tables. Fries looked at the fruitcake in fruit of him dubiously.

Taylor leaned over and said, "Try it, it's really good."

Fries took a small bite, and discovered he did like it. It was richer and moister than he had expected.

When the flaming pudding had been cleared, the Duchess stood and said, "While it is our usual custom to begin the dancing, this evening we are going to retire to the living room where the piano is so that we may hear our Frecio Bennato on his 'native' instrument. This will allow the tables to be cleared for our dancing."

This was news to Fries. He suddenly felt himself being pulled out of his chair. He turned to see Storm pulling at his tunic. He followed her behind a tapestry through a small servants' door and into a narrow passage. When the door was closed, Fries asked her, "What are you doing? Where are we going?"

"I'm taking you on a shortcut to the living room. You're going to enter after everyone is seated."

"I still don't know what I'm going to play!"

"Never mind. Just do what you were doing this afternoon."

"I was just playing around."

"Or you could ask people what they want to hear, if you have so much music memorized."

They hurried down the passage and then came out of another door close to the living room. They paused in the hallway and Storm attempted to catch her breath with only very little ability to breathe at all.

"Geez, Storm, you're about to faint, why don't you loosen the corset?"

"It's too late now. Think of all those buttons. Anyway, I'm fine."

They waited five minutes and then Storm snuck into the living room, giving him a thumbs up sign when she saw that everything was ready for him.

Fries tugged fruitlessly at his tunic, straightened his cap, and then walked in with a confident stage presence.

He sat down gracefully on the piano stool, and looked at the familiar keys before him. He looked up and saw the music to the madrigal he had been fiddling with that afternoon. Oh well. It was better than Chopin or Debussy for this occasion.

He put his hands on the keys, wiping off some specks of dust, then began to play the madrigal in four-part harmony. When he had finished it as written, he played a variation of it, then another and then another, each time becoming more complicated. Finally, he felt he could continue it no longer without becoming boringly repetitive and he ended it with a crescendoing flourish.

Everyone clapped and there were a few whistles. He smiled graciously and then when it had quieted, he said, "As I have no other planned piece to play for you tonight, I was wondering if anyone had a request I might oblige them with."

There was a silent pause, then someone said, "A Chopin nocturne."

So much for no Chopin this evening. He asked, "Any particular one?"

"In E minor."

Fries turned to the piano and began to play Chopin's Nocturne in E minor. It was achingly sweet. Storm, from her vantagepoint by the door, felt like she just wanted to melt in its lilting, haunting melody. The emotion he seemed to pour into his music.... Storm recalled what he had said that morning on their walk through the snow. He tried to convey the emotions he felt while outdoors with nature in his music. She wondered if he was putting emotions he felt from that morning into this piece.

Finally, the last chord lingered and died away. There was a pregnant pause, the pause where all magic of music is held, before someone broke it with their applause. Fries came out of his semi-trance, and smiled appreciatively.

When the applause had died down, Fries said, "Would you like another request or would you like to start the dancing?"

Someone, who sounded like Myra, called out, "Play something impressively difficult."

Everyone chuckled politely, Fries as well. "Something impressively difficult, huh?"

He turned to the piano in deep thought for a couple of minutes. The silence was so deafening it could be heard from upstairs.

The pianist put his hands on the keys and played two large, loud chords and then a steady arpeggio up and down the octaves. A cascade of notes washed through the room as Fries played Chopin's Fantasie Impromptu. Then the piece switched to a softer, more melodic mood, as Fries slacked on the tempo, prolonging the pleasure afforded by listening to such tones. His face conveyed the sheer joy he received from playing such beautiful music. This was his life.

Then it reverted back to the original theme with Fries' fingers flying over the keys mindlessly. He couldn't think about it. It had to be instinctive. If he thought about it, he would slip up. Then gently, the piece came to a close.

Everyone applauded once more. Fries was gratified to see grins and looks of delight. It was so refreshing to be able to see his audience rather than a void of black created by bright stage lights.

When he could, he said, "I think it is high time we returned to the hall for some more active entertainment. It is getting late and we must not be up when the cock crows."

People laughed and began to make their way out of the crowded and now stuffy living room. Fries stood by the grand piano and received the compliments and praise of his audience graciously. This was part of being a performer that wasn't possible to be learned. It had to be natural, and William Bennet nee Darcy had recognised it in his prodigy early on.

When everyone else had returned to the great hall, Fries sat back down at the piano and began to play some soft Debussy.

Storm stood in the doorway watching him. He was in his element at the piano. He seemed to belong there. It was incredible to see. Slowly she walked inside the room and sank down into a chair to listen.

Fries looked up and noticed her, bestowing her a soft, serene smile. He looked back down and continued to play. Storm closed her eyes, letting the impressionistic music wash over her.

Finally, it drew to a close. He looked up. Storm stood and held out her hand to him. "We need to join the party," she said.

"I don't want to," he whined.

"I know you don't want to, but we should."

"Why?"

"Because it's polite. Let's go."

Fries stood and walked over to her, drawing her arm through his once more. They walked sedately through the manor's halls. "Doesn't this feel a little surreal?" asked Fries. "I feel kind of like I really am stepping back in time."

"It's neat, isn't it?"

"And creepy."

"I wanted to tell you that I loved your playing. I haven't heard you play before today."

"Of course you have," he said.

"Not since before I went off to university."

"I guess so."

"I truly did enjoy your playing."

"Thank you."

They walked into the great hall to the sound of the minstrels playing overhead. People were dancing in the centre of the hall. Twirling, twisting and moving in patterns once designed many years ago. Fries and Storm stood to the side watching them for some time before Storm asked, "Would you like to give it a try?"

"No."

"Come on, it won't hurt."

"My dignity and pride will be hurt."

"As my escort, you must dance with me at least once."

"I'll resign my position in favour of someone else then."

"You can't, that would be very insulting to myself."

Fries sighed resignedly. "I could never insult a lady, therefore I will subject myself to humiliation for your sake."

"Come." She led him by the hand to take part of the next set.

Fries actually wasn't a bad dancer. He certainly didn't humiliate himself. He may have messed up a few times, but it was never so horrible as a certain Mr. Collins.

He didn't enjoy it tremendously, but he did his duty. And it was still weird to see Storm acting so much the lady. It seemed completely contrary to her nature and he found himself missing the usual Storm, the feisty Storm, the independent Storm, the Storm with an attitude.

Near midnight, everyone gathered together to sing Silent Night and say good night. A flurry of gathering coats, hats, gloves, purses, and discarded pieces of costumes ensued, then finally everyone was gone and the six friends were left. Henrietta paid the minstrels and bid them good night. The servants would be back the following morning to help clear the rest of the party debris.

Storm commanded, "Fries, undo these buttons and loosen my corset!"

Fries chuckled and tried to undo the buttons on her gown as quickly as possible, which was a difficult task to accomplish even when not hindered by a fidgeting feminist trapped in a corset. Finally, he got them undone and he was able to untie the corset and loosen it. She pulled it away from her torso and breathed in deeply several times, slouching against a wall.

Stacy looked at her friend sympathetically. "Why don't you go on and take it all off, Storm? I think we're all going to bed anyway, aren't we Hen?"

"Yes, do go on and get some rest. Thank you so much for all your help. It was a splendid success. And Fries! My goodness you were superb!!" she gushed.

"Thank you," Fries said modestly.

"You must come back next year."

"I will try to keep the date free."

Everyone went upstairs. Storm threatened Fries before entering her chamber, still clutching the gown to her now-flat-again chest, "If you dare wake me up in the morning..."

Fries grinned and said, "Good night, my lady."

The next morning, the manor was cleaned mostly by the servants. Fries went out for another long walk through the surrounding countryside. He didn't know when he would have another opportunity to commune with nature again. As he walked, he went through the previous day in his mind. Something had changed in him that day, and he was afraid of it, didn't even want to think about it. He pushed it out of his mind and walked vigorously to take his mind off of it.

When he returned to the manor, he found everyone seated around the large, wooden kitchen table eating breakfast.

"Morning," he said, grabbing a bowl and some cereal for himself.

"There's some more toast if you want it," said Henrietta.

"Thanks."

Storm informed him, "We were just sorting out the plan on how to get home."

"Oh yeah. The car is still in the shop."

"We called them and they said it wouldn't be ready until Tuesday. But Taylor, West and I have to be back in London tonight. So we're taking a train home this afternoon while Anastasia will remain here until the car is ready and she'll drive it home." Storm paused to take a sip of orange juice. "Now, you can either come back with us on the train, or you can remain and keep Anastasia company on the drive home. It's understood that you won't drive."

"I have nothing better to do. I'll go with Anastasia."

So it was decided. Storm, Taylor and West packed a few necessaries while the rest would be taken in the car. Then midafternoon, they said goodbye to Anastasia and Fries. "Don't get lost in the snow, darling," said Storm as she kissed his cheek in farewell. Fries didn't reply, he only watched her get into Henrietta's luxurious car and drive off.

Long after they were out of sight, Ana rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Fries?" she asked softly.

"Hmm?" he replied absentmindedly, still staring at the place on the horizon where the car had been.

"Come inside. You must be freezing."

He managed to stir himself out of his reverie and slowly closed the big oaken front door. In the gloom of the hallway, Ana looked up at her friend with concern. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes. I'm fine." He said, not sounding convincing. Then asked her, "So what shall we do today?"

Fries and Ana spent a gloriously relaxed two days with Henrietta. They became involved in heated historical debates, Henrietta made them dress up again for dinner with just the three of them, and Fries was forced to play for his two friends.

Ana continued emailing Martin from Henrietta's computer, describing to him some of the historical debates so he could add his two pence worth.

Fries practiced (or performed) on the grand piano, and advised Henrietta on what kind of harpsichord she should get if she ever got round to it. He continued to take walks through the countryside, whose snow was already beginning to melt. Gradually, the afflictions that had plagued him the day of and after the Madrigal Dinner dissipated, and he regained his peace of mind.

On the Wednesday of that week, Anastasia and Fries packed their things and were conveyed to the mechanic's shop by Henrietta, who hugged them both farewell, before they began their journey back to London.

Some time passed before either of the people in the car spoke. Ana broke the silence first.

"We can't pass this whole journey in silence, you know. What use are you to me then?"

Fries seemed to break out of a trance-like reverie. "I'm sorry. I was just thinking."

Ana raised an eyebrow to signify that she didn't think he was 'just thinking'. But Fries couldn't tell what else she knew.

"So what do you want to talk about?" he countered.

"Anything. Just for the sake of talking. For the sake of mutual enlightenment. For the sake of bonding. To keep me awake."

"What did you think of the Madrigal Dinner then?"

"I thought it was lovely. It really went well. And I didn't suffocate, which is always a good sign."

"I didn't get to speak with you during the Dinner. Were you the one attending... or... was Stacy in attendance?"

"A little of both actually. She turned up later on during the dancing. Which was fine with me since I was tired."

Fries was silent for a while. Then he asked hesitatingly, "What is it like... for you? I mean, when you are Stacy, what do you do?" He confused himself sufficiently.

"Oh, well, it's like being asleep really. I have dreams that I remember when I wake up, but I don't know what has been going on while I was asleep."

"I see."

He didn't feel comfortable asking more questions about her condition. So instead he left the subject to her choosing.

"When are you leaving us?"

"I'm not positive. I have some concerts during the holiday season. Since doing this Madrigal Dinner, I've been doing a lot of thinking. I want to do some small concerts, more intimate than the concert hall, and give the proceeds to charity. And I want to perform for groups of people who don't usually make it to the concert hall, or can't afford it. Like children and poorer elderly people. I want to reach out to people who would really enjoy and be uplifted by my music. I get so much more reward out of it that way. It was so refreshing to see the faces of my audience this weekend, and to react to them and see their reactions to the music. Sometimes it's not so great, when you see a few people yawning or something. But it's better than a sea of darkness and bright lights in my eyes."

"Wow. You really were thinking."

"So I'm going to talk to my agent when I get home and see what can be arranged. It's a bit last minute, but maybe something can be done."

Ana shook her head. "You really are a very loving person." She said this in amazement, as if she hadn't believed it before.

"Um, okay," was his reply, unsure where this came from. "Anyway, so I shall be gone for some concerts, and I'd like to be home with William and Elizabeth for Christmas, but that also means being away from Storm."

"You and Storm could always be at Bennet Mansion together," she pointed out.

"Storm usually can't make it for Christmas, you know that. She comes a bit afterwards when the Christmas rush has died down."

"But maybe this year we'll find some way for her to go. Hire a temporary replacement or something."

"We'll see. Meanwhile, I'm supposed to be finalizing the plans for the anniversary event."

"How is that going, by the way? For someone who came to stay with Storm solely for the purpose of orchestrating this thing, it doesn't seem to be getting much attention."

"It was not the only purpose. It also allowed me to see her again, and get to know her."

"And you have."

"Yes, I have."

"And?"

"And what?" asked Fries, starting to feel nervous about the line of questioning.

"And what do you think?"

"What do you mean 'what do I think'?"

"Exactly that, what do you think of Storm?"

"She's a great person."

"She is. Do you like her?"

"Of course I like her. You would have heard about it long before this if I hadn't."

"You two don't act like brother and sister much."

"Well, we wouldn't since we're not essentially. We only share the same adoptive parents. Why does everyone expect us to act like we grew up together with the same people in the house? As in, a mother, father, brothers, and sisters? We didn't. She didn't know William as a father until she was practically an adult. We always had different people in the house, and for a while she considered me just another one of the crowd of children who came and went through Elizabeth and Jane's care. But I never went. And by the time we realized we would be stuck with a much longer lasting relationship than just occupying the same house, she'd gone off to Uni."

"Calm down, Fries. No need to get defensive!"

"I wasn't being defensive," he muttered. There was a long pause before Fries asked, "Don't you have a radio or CD player or something in here?"

"Tired of my company already?"

"No, I was just wondering."

"No, I don't. It's a cheap, old car."

"Oh."

"Can I ask your advice about something?" Ana asked.

"Sure."

"But don't tell Storm."

"Okay." Fries' interest was roused.

"Well, you know about my email friend, right?"

"Vaguely, yes."

"He's proposed that we meet. Just as friends. But I like him more than a friend. What should I do?"

"Meet him."

"But what if I don't want to be just friends."

"Lots of relationships start out of friendships first."

"How should I meet him though? Storm is always wary of this mysterious person and if she knew about this, she would certainly advise me against going."

"A simple solution is to meet him for coffee or lunch or something at Goa's. That way I would be there in case anything went wrong, it's a nice public place but it doesn't make him uneasy."

"Ok. But how would I set it up?"

"You'll just have to arrange it very soon and hope for the best. Have you told Stacy about him?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because it's nice having something that's all my own."

"That's exactly the same argument she gave when she decided to have her own way without regards to consequences."

"You guys still don't know who he is?"

Fries shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"It's ok," she replied, sounding resigned.

Several hours later, they got back into London. Traffic had held them up on the M25 but Storm still wasn't home when Fries walked into the flat. He felt different walking into the place after being away from it for nearly a week. He slung his things down, making a mental note to tidy it away before she got home. Then he made a slow, contemplative walking tour of the flat. He gazed at the mural along the back wall, he lingered in the kitchen remembering times they had tried cooking new and difficult dishes. Then he opened her bedroom door, and sat on the steps looking in. Finally, he got up and began to unpack, tossing most of the stuff into a pile to wash. He hung up his costume beside hers so they could both be taken back to the costume shop. He'd been thankful not to spill anything on his.

When he finished that, he began to cook supper. He was nearly finished when Storm came home.

"Hey, you're back!" she exclaimed in obvious delight. Fries felt thrilled to see her again.

She came over and gave him a hug. Then, with his arm still around her waist and she leaning on his shoulders, she looked down at what he was cooking.

"What in f***'s name is this?" she asked with a laugh.

Fries couldn't help smiling. If she didn't swear, she wouldn't be the same Storm he adored.

"It's rice and vegetables, and fresh cod cooking in a tomato sauce with mushrooms."

"It smells heavenly!"

"Good."

"When will it be ready?"

"Any minute now. Would you get some plates and things out?"

"It's the least I could do after you've done a hard day's travelling and cooked a beautiful meal."

"Oh! ...Well..." he muttered.

They sat down to their meal and Storm asked, "So what did you and Anastasia do while you were trapped in the Manor?"

"I was forced to play for them."

"Aw, you poor thing," she teased.

"Went for lovely walks."

"Of course."

"Moped around, did nothing really."

"Sounds marvelous."

"Unless you've been doing it for too long."

"And I haven't. I haven't had a real, proper, long holiday since I started Wild Iris."

"That's because you don't employ other people to run the store when you're gone."

"Can't afford it."

"I think you could get someone temporary while you took some time off."

"Oh, I don't know. It's my own personal business, and I don't know how I feel about some stranger coming in and mussing things up."

"They wouldn't be 'mussing things up' and you know it. You're just stubborn."

"That I am!"

"What have you been doing then?"

"Partying while you're gone!"

"I can believe it."

"No, actually. I've just been at the shop and then coming home and reading or watching the telly in the evenings."

"Tough life."

"It is, really."

They ate in silence for several minutes. Then Fries said, "I've decided to do a few concerts this season. I'm going to talk to my agent tomorrow."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I've missed performing, and the Madrigal Dinner made me realize that. But I also learned I prefer a more intimate setting. So I'm going to see if I can do some small concerts in drawing rooms or small halls and have the proceeds go to charity or something."

"Are you serious?" she exclaimed.

"Yes."

"Wow. That'd be so cool!"

Fries smirked. "Cool, huh? 'That would be sooo cool!'" he mimicked.

Storm smacked him upside the head lightly. Fries only chuckled more.

"Just remember you need to arrange the catering this week."

"I don't know what to order for the food."

"They should provide you with some advice. Explain the venue and the type of people who will be there and then they should help you."

"What kind of price range should I be looking at?"

"I have no idea."

"You're not much help."

"I never said I would be," she replied, getting up and clearing their plates.

"How are we going to set everything up? We'll need the entire mansion and lawn to ourselves for most of the day to get everything ready."

They moved to the sofa to sit down and continue their discussion. "I don't think..." she paused, "I don't think we can hide from them the fact that we are doing something for their anniversary. They'll know what day it is, they'll be wanting to do something on their own, they'll be suspicious, so I think we should be honest and tell them that we are doing something special for that day, but no more than that. The surprise of all those people being there should be more than enough."

"I guess that's the best we can do. Elizabeth especially will know we're up to something."

"I still can't believe they don't know you're living here. How do they get a hold of you?"

"They don't. I get a hold of them and tell them I'm in some random city in the world. That's what they're used to."

"You're pathetic."

"Pathetic?" he cried, indignant.

She grinned, blew a kiss at him, and got off the couch. "I am taking a shower," she announced

Continued In Next Section