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Max McCandles, with his new wife Bella Baxter at his side, exits the house that’s been willed to them by Godwin Baxter. (Bella, of course, had happily announced that she chose to keep her maiden name, and Max had never once assumed that she would adopt his surname as her own once they were married).
Bella had insisted that Toinette, a friend of hers, and now an ex-whore, be taken into their home to live with them. This morning, Toinette is lounging in a chair on the patio, engrossed in reading God-knows-what-political newspaper. As the couple approach her at the beginning of their post-breakfast stroll, Max admires her even-toned, cocoa-hued skin and large brown eyes. She’s a beautiful woman with a charming smile and a personality to match; no wonder Bella had lain with her in addition to numerous men during her whoring days in Paris. Could it be that Bella still enjoys the pleasures of the flesh with her on those occasions when he’s away from the house? Perhaps even while he’s inside the house but occupied in the library or his study? A slow warmth rises from his chest and fills his cheeks as his imagination takes him to picturing Toinette and Bella, both naked and engaged in sexual activity. He truly wouldn’t mind being invited to witness the pair in congress someday – or better yet, to be invited as an active third party in a scenario where all may pleasure one another in various ways. His heart quickens at the prospect. He clears his throat – and his mind – in recovery, just as he and Bella reach Toinette. “Bonne jour, Mademoiselle Toinette,” he says.
Toinette looks up from her paper with a delightfully bubbly laugh, which sets Bella to doing likewise.
“Merci beaucoup, Monsieur McCandles,” Toinette says, “but do keep working on your French, s’il vous plaît. And your accent.”
Bella steps in. “Darling, jour is masculine, not feminine. It’s bon jour, not bonne.”
“My apologies,” Max says. He offers a tiny bow and tries again. “Bon jour, Mademoiselle Toinette.”
“Très bien,” Toinette says with an approving nod. She turns her gaze to Bella. “You’re right, he’s adorable.” She winks at Max before returning to her reading.
Oh dear, is Toinette flirting with him? Perhaps Implying that a certain invitation to join her and Bella in the bedchamber might be coming in the near future? But no, no… that’s an entirely over-confident thought. Best not to let his imagination run away with him again. Although, when he can gain sufficient courage, he may propose it to Bella himself, as she would likely welcome the idea. Of that, he feels rightly confident.
Max and Bella stroll down the steps to the lower level of the garden. They pass by the chicken/dog, the goat/duck, the six-legged dog/pig, and others of Godwin’s creations as they amble along the stone path lined with bushes, flowers, and statues. And then, there’s Goatbrain/Blessington, whom Bella still insists on referring to as “The General,” though Max can’t fathom why, and has finally stopped asking. As the newlywed couple regard their joint creation, who’s currently grazing in the grass, Max can’t help but sigh; it still stings that Godwin hadn’t lived long enough to see him and Bella marry, and all because of that wretched tyrant’s interruption at their first wedding attempt.
Continuing along the path, the couple come upon Mrs. Prim and Felicity. The one Prim likes better, Bella had told him. Probably because Bella had matured too quickly and had a rebellious spirit, as far as Prim was concerned. As for Felicity, her progress is still excruciatingly slow, and so poses little threat to anyone; it’s no wonder Prim would like her better, or at least find her more easily manageable. So, what else is there to do at this point but to keep Felicity here in the house and continue the attempts to educate her, help her to gain some basic knowledge of vocabulary, ensure that she develops better gross motor skills, and then, fine motor skills? It wouldn’t be prudent to tuck her away in an asylum and risk their staff seeing the pair of long scars at the back of her neck; it would surely lead to questions that he would not want to entertain answering. Besides, Bella, with her views on Humanity and Justice, would never allow it. Many times she’s said that Felicity should be allowed to thrive properly – as she can – which also requires that she lives on the premises with all the others.
“How is she doing, Prim?” Bella asks. “Still unable to do anything but throw and catch a ball?”
“She knows her own name, Bella,” he whispers. “And she knows how to serve water. She did so just last week, remember?”
“Yes, I had forgotten,” Bella says with a dry tone. “Nevertheless, I'd hoped she would have at least developed a better grasp of language and a vocabulary of more than six words by now.” She sighs loudly. “But all things in their time, I suppose,” she adds matter-of-factly before moving on with long, quick strides.
After catching a glimpse of Prim’s scowl, he pauses, shrugs in apology, and then scurries to catch up to his wife, who’s now heading towards the steps leading to the circular entryway of the far façade at the end of the path.
When he reaches her side, she slows her gait, and then pauses. “Walk with me, Candles,” she says. She leads him up the steps and through the entryway, past the three beech trees, and to a more secluded area of the grounds. She stops and turns to face him. “I would be a good mother, I think,” she says. “And I’m quite sure that you would be an excellent father.”
That certainly came from nowhere – but generally, that’s true of much of what Bella says. “We could certainly adopt a child from one of the orphanages, if you'd like.”
“No,” Bella says firmly. “We shall not adopt. You and I shall produce a child together.”
“Forgive my saying this, but your prior history doesn’t…”
“The prior history of my body and mind was that of Victoria Blessington. I, Bella, of new mind, have no prior history to speak of.”
“Of course, but – do consider the importance of what you’ve just said. Are you certain? I mean, about being a mother?"
“I’ve been doing research, and I’ve determined that even after the type of surgery God performed to remove the child that was in this body, I will still be physically capable of carrying a new child. Therefore, yes, I would like to try it. I think it would be an interesting experiment.”
“Dearest, a child is not an experiment.”
“Did I not once have the brain of a child myself, and that being due to God’s experiment? And did you not also participate in his experiment by making your observations and then documenting the course of my development?”
He lowers his head to avoid meeting her gaze. “Yes, but the circumstances were quite different.”
“I propose that we engage in furious jumping as soon as this evening, as I am in the fertile portion of my cycle,” Bella announces. “In so doing, our goal will be two-fold. In addition to our enjoying the physical pleasure to be derived from the act, we shall also be attempting to produce a child. What say you to that, Max McCandles?”
Max raises his head, looks into Bella’s gorgeous azure eyes, and is mesmerized anew. “I… I would be most pleased.”
Bella smiles. “Now, do understand that you shall be the one to look after our daughter – or son – whenever I am in the surgery, or whenever I may be otherwise occupied during my hours of research, and also while I’m fulfilling my daily vocational obligations.”
“Of course.”
“And you shall also endeavor to keep our child distant from Felicity. I do not trust her behaviour as of yet. True, she can catch a ball and serve water, but it remains to be seen if she shall mature further. Frankly, I have my doubts on that score. She does still carry that hammer around from time to time, does she not?”
“She does. I - I’m so sorry about her, Bella.”
“You have already apologized once about your and God’s actions in making another one. Apologize no more. What’s done is done.”
He nods. It’s been difficult to stop apologizing to Bella, but maybe one day he’ll actually be able to heed her request. “Bella, my Love…”
“Yes, Candles?”
“About your proposal… It’s a grand idea, and one I support – but I want you to be sure of this. Will you really be willing to carry a child to term?”
“I shall endure the pregnancy, as any woman having a child must.” Bella tilts her head for a moment, as if in thought, before continuing. “Perhaps, many decades in the future, a man’s seed may somehow be joined with a woman’s egg – and then, scientifically extracted and planted into a different woman’s womb to be carried for the nine-month period.”
“It seems a fanciful notion.”
“I believe it could be done – and it’s something I would very much like to pioneer. However, I fear that if I were to wait until my research is found to be conclusive, and that such a procedure is found to be possible – and safe – to accomplish, then I may no longer be fruitful. My supply of eggs would be depleted."
“Decades, as you said,” he says, trying to be helpful.
“Many decades. So, I will bear up. I’m sure it will be a fascinating experience, both physically and emotionally, to carry a child inside me – and to actually want that same child.”
“Not like Victoria,” Max dares to say – and then immediately regrets doing so.
“Max McCandles, I would like to stop talking about Victoria Blessington, please. Bella Baxter is quite different. She wants a child.”
“Yes, yes. I understand. I should really continue to be more sensitive to your situation. I’m sorry.”
“And there you go, apologizing once again in your most adorable way when there is no need to do so.”
She’s right, of course. Best for him to move on and not dwell on the point, neither out loud nor in his own mind. After all, there are more important matters to attend to, considering his wife’s recent proposal. “Bella, Darling…”
Her eyes brighten, along with her facial expression. “I know that smile,” she says. “It tells me you have something on your mind. What is it?”
“You suggested that we should engage in…” he clears his throat, “… sexual activity, and as soon as this evening.”
“I did, indeed.”
He leans into her and gently tongues her ear. “I was thinking… why wait until this evening? Why not now?”
“Here? In the garden? And with The General nearby?”
“Good Lord, no! But our bedchamber is not so far away….” He pulls her into an embrace and claims her mouth with his, engaging her in a lengthy, fervid kiss before gently releasing her.
Bella smiles. “Over the past month you’ve made much improvement in reducing your excessive tongue play where kissing is concerned.”
“I’m pleased to hear it. I’ve tried my best to take note of your past advice. And yet you’ve given me no advice about my tongue play in the bedroom. May I assume all is well?”
“You speak of tongue contact with my clitoris, do you not? On that I have no advice to give. I’m fully satisfied with your talents and techniques in that regard. May I look forward to such contact several minutes hence? To warm me up for furious jumping?”
“It would be my privilege, Bella Baxter.”
Bella backs up and looks below his waist. “You are already in a state of anticipation. Even obscured under your trousers, I can see that your penis has become quite…énorme.”
He chuckles. “I do love when you speak French.”
“So, shall we to the bedchamber in order to produce un enfant – and to experience la petite mort in the process?”
“Mais oui, mon amour. Erm… how was that? Did I say it correctly?”
“Your French is getting better all the time, Monsieur McCandles.”
His heart dances in his chest as Bella firmly grasps his hand. They speed together back through the main garden and up the stairs in the house, all smiles.