Lucy lies awake pondering

After a visit to the ladies' necessary room and another use of the tiny bidet, Lucy made her way to the makeshift cabin Edmund had pressed the airship company into arranging for her. Windowless, bare of all but a folding bed and a small bag -- for she had packed only for a few days in London -- she changed into her nightshirt and put herself to bed.

Lucy lay in bed, her eyes open in the dark, pondering.

The feelings in her body from the late night tryst reminded her she was no longer a servant, but a lady. What did that mean? Who was she now, to whom? But lady or servant, there would be duties, to Annie, and to Downs Edge and its staff. No matter who she might be to herself, to Edmund, even to Society -- she frowned, thinking that she might be part of Society now -- there would still be need for her to attend to what was necessary.

Love. A puzzle. She had no duties to Edmund, any longer. She no longer need yield to him. He no longer held anything over her. He was frightened of her, even, a little. But they desired one another. Edmund's duty was to Clarissa. If Edmund made Clarissa happy, if Sabrina were to have a little brother, Clarissa could have no objections. Lucy and Edmund would be free to make each other happy. So henceforth Lucy would be Clarissa's staunch ally, never a rival. Lucy would insist that Edmund should perform conjugal relations with Clarissa as often as she would accept him and that he should be solicitous of her comfort and pleasure.

Edmund had told her that Clarissa herself had taken a Sapphic lover at her Swiss finishing school, a Frenchwoman, and that he and Clarissa had planned an affectionate reunion visit between the schoolmates.

Schoolmates. Finishing school. Annie and Sabrina together. Sapphists already, or on the face of it, it was Annie's desire to be with Sabrina so, while Sabrina's eyes yet wandered. A disaster, in all likelihood. Lucy hoped that she had raised Annie with the strength to prevail, and the wisdom to know when not to contend. Past finishing school? Well, now Annie had prospects as heiress of Downs Edge, if no great family name, a bastard's bastard, Annie Longbottom out of Lucy Longbottom out of Maggie Longbottom, no husbands in sight. Annie was clever and willing, but could she have talents that would shine, that could attract a match, a husband who would respect her and not see her as the figurehead of the estate?

Annie must write as often as she can, Lucy told herself.

Somewhere in her maze of ponderings, her womb and arse gently tingling from Edmund's attentions, Lucy fell asleep to the droning of the airship motors.

A knocking at Lucy's compartment door awakened her. She blinked her eyes open in the darkness. A tapping came again. She rose and went to the door in her nightdress.

"What is it?" Lucy said.