“Indeed not madam,” Mr D’arcy explained somewhat painfully, “I merely wished to enquire if I might shoot a few of your pheasants as I fear I have slaughtered the vast majority of those at Manderley and the season has hardly begun.”“Indeed shoot away for we have peasants far in excess of our needs,” Mrs Bennet simpered, “gardeners, ostlers, idlers, why we have a complete superfluity of peasants..“Pheasants mother, not Peasants.” Eliza cautioned. “One cannot shoot Peasants.”“In the lord’s name why not?” Mrs Bennet exclaimed, “If one might not shoot them how is discipline to be maintained?”“Miss Eliza, I have done you a dis-service,” Mr D’arcy exclaimed, “I had thought you the most idiotic and completely deluded woman I had ever met but I own you are indeed quite sane compared to your mother.”“How are we to impose discipline Mr D’arcy if we cannot shoot the miscreants?” Mrs Bennet demanded. “One cannot carry a rack around with one and whipping is no substitute.”“Dear lord mother he wants. She was still married. Wasn't she? It was hard to think and besides, it didn't matter. She came again. John nodded toward her window and she turned her head. Two men in the next car were staring at her, eyes wide. She smiled and threw her head back, rubbing herself harder. She loved it when men watched. The light changed and John turned the corner and onto the sidestreet. It was Maple. Belle used to live here. Roger still did. Belle recognized the houses and stopped rubbing herself. She pushed her fingers in her mouth and licked them clean, enjoying the taste she'd hated just a few months ago. She squinted her eyes, trying to remember why she knew these houses, but couldn't. "Here we are," John announced, pulling the car into the driveway. Belle recognized it. "I live here..." she said slowly, the memories rising inside her. "With Roger." She was puzzled. Why was she with this John man and not Roger? He was her husband, after all. And he'd liked the new haircut... She closed her eyes.
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