Arabella specified another Norrell-friendly menu this time: lightly-grilled fowl with a spiced sauce on the side, and a dessert of lemon cream and Shrewsbury biscuits. This might have been too light a meal for most of them, but Arabella, and Jonathan, and possibly Childermass, intended to take a comforting supper once they'd worn Norrell out.

Over the meal, Arabella and Jonathan chatted quite as cheerfully as ever, while the other couple spoke in lower voices at the other end of the table. He was not sure, but he suspected Childermass was making it his office not to let his master be nervous. If Norrell's consumption of the dessert was any indication, he was far less worried by the end of the meal.

When the last trace of lemon cream was scooped up on the last Shrewsbury biscuit, Arabella got up and said brightly, "Shall we?"

Jonathan said, "Follow my wife, I generally find it saves trouble to let her lead the way," and smiled.

He was just near enough to hear as Childermass bent close to his master and said, "Don't worry, sir, I shan't let her get you. Only ones having our wicked way with you tonight are me and him!" Jonathan wondered at the strange fears people had--surely a wife was not that terrifying--but had to remind himself a wife was a perfectly-delightful creature if one had sought her out, but presumably not otherwise.

So the little procession consisted of Jonathan, Arabella, and a bit behind Childermass and Mr Norrell.

The bedroom was pleasantly-lit, with a good fire roaring up in the hearth. Norrell lookt rather happier to see that.

Jonathan and Childermass noted that the usual sheets and blankets and quilt had been thoroughly protected with a thick dust cover of the type used on furniture during long absences.

“Let it fly, eh, sir?” Childermass whispered to Jonathan, who tried to stifle a laugh. He was definitely glad that this fellow had agreed to be present, if not necessarily to join in.

Arabella was wearing a rather unusually droopy dress that suggested that she had had recourse to neither stays nor servants. This reminded him excitingly of why she wanted freedom of dress for the evening.

"Go ahead, gentlemen, imagine I'm not here," she said.

Three pairs of eyes fixed on her unerringly. She chuckled, and went to the corner. Jonathan noticed that the soft roomy chair from his study had suddenly appeared there. Obviously she had been preparing.

"I was quite wrong!" burst out Mr Norrell, staring at her. "I shall be completely unable to perform."

Jonathan moved to him, put a hand on his shoulder and said, "Do you know what my first thought was, when Arabella came out with such an unusual idea? I thought, 'I can imagine that he might like to kiss me'."

Mr Norrell lookt up at him. He glanced at his eyes, then his lips.

Mr Norrell kissed considerably more expertly than he might have thought, not just going straight for the tongue but nibbling at his lips, then applying a delicate pressure, finally sliding in to flirt tongue-to-tongue against him. Then he backed off a little to practice building up the sensations again. Finally, he settled to passionate tongue-thrusting as if he couldn't manage the control for any thing else, moaning into Jonathan's mouth. Jonathan almost moaned himself: it was a very good kiss.

When he drew away, Jonathan (as a frequently-satisfied married man) was interested, but Norrell's state bore witness to the deprivation Childermass had mentioned. He was panting, dishevelled, and lookt seconds away from coming in his breeches.

Norrell opened his eyes, looking at Jonathan adoringly. Jonathan kissed him on the corner of his mouth because he just couldn't not. How could anyone resist being loved that way? He was surprised to be recalled to his situation when Norrell lookt unwillingly into the corner. Then, without any display or exaggeration, Norrell put his face in his hands.

Jonathan said, "I'm sorry." He thought this was inadequate. It had taken him this long to realise he was playing with real people's feelings, that he was exposing such a private man. Not exposing him to anything--he and Arabella weren't monsters, and had had nothing in mind but shared enjoyment--but just exposing him in a way he wasn't comfortable with.

Childermass sighed, and came forward. "Come on, sir," he said, and drew him up to kiss him warmly. It was recognisably the original of the kiss Norrell had given Jonathan, but with an element of ease that spoke of time and comfort. "Get yourself in front of the fire for a bit and I'll sort it all out for you," Childermass went on.

Without speaking, Norrell did so, sitting with his shoulders slightly hunched up.

"Just caught him a bit by surprise," said Childermass. "He's not been thinking out the being-in-love bit, but getting it all mixed up with being desperate, and then suddenly remembered your wife was there. If it's just a bit too much for him, will you two let
us have some time together in here instead? Sorry if it ends up spoiling your evening, but …” He glanced at Norrell.

"Of course we will!" said Arabella warmly. "We never intended to hurt any one's feelings."

"I'll try to talk it through with him now," said Childermass.

Jonathan blessed Arabella's choice of the largest and most spacious chair. There was room for them to sit together, and they didn't overhear too much of the other couple's conversation.

He heard the beginning of it. "They'll leave us to it if you like, so I can have you and you feel better. They'd rather we were happy than try to push any thing on us. Does that help?"

Mr Norrell said something. Jonathan thought it might have been, “I don’t want to disappoint Mrs Strange.”

Arabella seemed to have heard it the same way, for she glanced quickly at Jonathan and then looked at Mr Norrell with more fondness that she had displayed for him before.

Then Childermass's voice went to a low murmur, and Mr Norrell reached out for him. Jonathan could not hear the rest of the conversation, but no doubt it wasn't intended for him.

After a while, Mr Norrell trotted up to them. "Mrs Strange, we would like to accept your kind offer of the use of your husband. Ah...Mr Strange...if, that is, you do not mind?"

Jonathan gave him a reassuring smile. It must have taken some bravery to approach again. "Arabella shall be quiet in the corner while we explore," he said.

This time, they undressed. Jonathan first. Mr Norrell did not pay the least attention to Arabella: he was too busy watching Jonathan. Meanwhile, Jonathan surprised himself by thinking about Norrell. He had assumed he would have to regulate his own attention by coming back to the thought of his wife pleasuring herself in the corner, but, no, the frankly lustful look on Norrell's face was quite enough. So he made a show of it; his strong arms and hands, his height, his well-turned legs, and finally his prick. No-one in his misspent youth had suggested he had anything to be shy about with that, and nor did Norrell, who took a half-step forward as though he wanted to touch it.

Maybe Mr Norrell would have spent the entire evening looking at Jonathan, but Childermass said, "It's your turn now, sir," so he sighed, and fumbled at his clothes. He had no sense of coquetry--which made it more exciting for Jonathan, the thought that this was a rare event--but managed not to tear any thing, with only occasional recourse to Childermass for help with the fastenings. Jonathan glanced at Bell, who was watching this process with a smile that suggested she had never seen anything so endearing.

He was a little plump, not muscular (except in the arms for carrying books), and without much body-hair. He was also less well-endowed, if extremely hard. But these differences from the ideal of handsomeness were inexplicably charming, marking him as an individual, as Norrell and no other.

Stepping up to him, Jonathan slid a hand round him and squeezed his arse. Norrell leaned against Jonathan.

Childermass began to undress next. He was strong, somewhat grimy, and would shape up excellently even next to Jonathan if not for the odour of horse and his tangled hair.

Norrell lookt at him as well. He drew a sharp breath. The full advantages of the arrangement seemed finally to have hit him.

"Come on, sir," said Childermass. "Which of us would you like first?"

Jonathan was a little shocked to see Norrell blatantly eyeing them up. He glanced at Childermass's crotch, then more extensively at Jonathan's. He lickt his lips and sighed happily.

"Well, sir, I reckon Mr Strange has about a fraction of an inch on me," said Childermass. "I'll prepare you."

Mr Norrell climbed up on the bed and lay on his stomach. Childermass grasped one of the several pillows in a generous heap at the head of the bed and slipped it under his hips. Mr Norrell spread his legs in happy anticipation.

That gave Jonathan a very good view of why his previous act of sodomy had gone poorly. He had certainly known the lady needed preparation, and the use of salve, but Childermass was using what he would have considered ridiculous quantities, and very slowly working Norrell up by adding fingers, and it appeared to go excellently well.

Arabella, on the other hand, did not have a good view of this proceeding, and she was evidently mightily curious. Since Mr Norrell’s head was turned away from her, she stood carefully up and tiptoed on her bare feet to the side of the bed. She looked surprised at what she saw and a trifle shocked, but she continued to watch curiously. Jonathan was taken aback by how calmly she was reacting to this. As Mr Norrell began to make odd but pleased sounds, she scampered quickly back to her chair.

After a while, Norrell was spread out on the bed, completely relaxed. His eyes remained closed, possibly to avoid a glimpse of Arabella, although he had equally-possibly forgotten her entirely.

Jonathan glanced over. Her face was flushed, and her hands were not visible, but she was keeping to her promise of playing discreetly.

"Now, sir, would you like a good hard fuck the first time, just to take the edge off you?" said Childermass, and Norrell wailed and hid his face in his arm, although this did not obscure a blush extreme enough it showed on the back of his neck. Then Norrell got to his hands and knees, shoving his arse up.

Childermass passed Jonathan the salve. Apparently both parties needed to prepare themselves. He applied the salve to the obvious spot, glancing at Childermass until the man nodded.

"Go on, sir, introduce yourself," said Childermass. "Start off slowly but don't take too long to work yourself up. When you're really hammering him and he's like to spend, bite him."

Norrell whimpered.

Jonathan went in gently, but picked up speed in a couple of minutes, familiarising himself with the sorts of things Mr Norrell said in the bedroom, from a shocked, "Mr Strange!" as he made the first hard thrust to wordless noises interspersed with repeated cries of his name and incoherent pleas as he kept moving.

Soon, the noises and cries of "Mr Strange!" attained a certain pitch, and Childermass whispered, "Now, sir!" to Jonathan, who was somewhat relieved. The heat and tightness was getting a little much, and he no longer wanted to hold back.

He kept thrusting, harder and harder, and Mr Norrell got more and more frantic, and Jonathan finally grabbed his prick at the same time as he bit him, at which Mr Norrell gave a tremendous cry of "Jonathan!" and came off all over the bed. The fierce spasms took Jonathan with him, and he groaned with the pleasure of it.

Once they had disengaged, Mr Norrell lookt into Arabella's corner and said, "Excuse me, madam!" and she said, "Do not trouble yourself, sir, he has quite the same effect on me if we have been apart for a while." She lifted her hand and sniffed it.

Norrell looked at her, puzzled, for a moment before turning to Childermass, and saying, "Thank you." Jonathan rather thought that although he and his wife had been the prime movers in this engagement, and although Norrell had such a passion for him, Norrell would never have accepted it without Childermass's advice. Perhaps there were indeed attachments more important than being in love.