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Z sat tensely, rhythmically shaking a foot. Both she and Ryan found it hard to keep away from the carriage windows, trying to keep an eye on the horses, needing constant reinforcement that they were in motion and everything was going smoothly. Z glanced across at Ryan, face unflatteringly screwed up, and felt a warmth of gratitude and fondness. He was a good friend, though she supposed this was, in theory, a somewhat stupid thing to do for a friend.

All was ruined when there came the sound of galloping horses behind them and her father's yell of "Halt!" did not quite drown out Z's sad exclamation of "Oh."

*

Back in London, it appeared that there was nothing else to be said.

"Don't look so sulky, my dear, I really don't know why you're making such a fuss," her mother said, having arranged everything for the wedding cheerfully enough in the absence of Z condescending to have anything to do with the matter, but now struck suddenly with irritation. "You like Charlotte; why would you go and fall out with her when you knew you would surely be married soon?"

Z pursed her mouth. She was tired of explaining how it was Charlotte who had fallen out with her, too far out to make it up. Charlotte had not tried to elope to Gretna Green with someone else to escape marrying the friend she had fallen out with, however, which helped to cast a misleading light over circumstances. Z could not make out why Charlotte did not show a similar anxiety to escape, except to suppose she preferred to make use of the opportunity to be the good one, hurt but willing to try as much as Z would allow her.

She kicked the frilled edge of her wedding gown resentfully. She disliked the seed pearl pattern but hadn't bothered to say. There was a time when preparations for the wedding would have been fun; all the choosing and debating that went on backstage the event. Now, where it would have been a joint venture, she'd managed to largely avoid Charlotte. Z hardly felt as though she were "backstage" at all. As long as she was brought on at the correct time it all proceeded quite well without her.

*

As she stood at the altar, Z flicked her eyes sideways at Charlotte. Why didn't she make a protest, standing there solemn enough, and happy enough, if it wasn't for the fact that they weren't standing there smiling at each other like they would be if they were alright. She wasn't seeking Z's eye at all, or even Tennessee's. Z looked for Tennessee herself. She was biting her lip in a worried way, not looking happy for them. Z had never imagined her and Charlotte's wedding in much detail – or at least, she thought she hadn't, until the reality jarred with all the pictures she had clear in her head – but the important thing about it in prospect was that she, Charlotte and Tennessee would all be happy, looking from one face to the other to add the happiness they found there to that in their own hearts so that the fountain overflowed.

Z sighed and returned to reality and the present. Clearly she must renounce romance. She never even knew she was romantic. But then one didn't think of having to check inclinations to romancing where friendship was concerned. Z almost physically flinched as the connection of friendship to romance set off more old thoughts. This had always been going to be maybe just a friendly marriage, a chaste union for social convenience, companionship, finance, family preferences. Or maybe, on the wedding night, she and Charlotte lying side by side in their nightgowns, maybe they would look shyly or wickedly or sweetly happy to be alone together and ...

Charlotte said, "I do," and Z prepared herself for her part.

*

They spent the night at Charlotte's parents' house. Charlotte was undressed by her maid behind a screen in the bedroom they were to sleep in. Z tried to hurry her maid as much as possible, not wanting to say anything for Charlotte to hear and know she was affecting her in some way, but making involuntary agitated gestures. When she was in her nightgown, her hair loose, she scrambled into bed so she could be lying there before Charlotte came out from behind the screen. She closed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, trying to lull her body into remoteness. Z cracked an eye open a little when Charlotte got into bed. So there they were indeed, lying side by side in their nightgowns, and not a word was said. The mattress dipped again as Charlotte rolled onto her side, her back turned to Z, burying her head under the covers. Sleep was surprisingly near.

*

Z was unsure how she felt about the honeymoon. On the one hand, doing something supposedly romantic and dewy and well, honeymoonish, with Charlotte, was unappealing, awkward and vaguely alarming. On the other hand she was stuck with her in any case and there seemed no especial reason why her company should be more objectionable in Europe than it would be if they skipped straight to living together as long as they both lived. In fact, that stage seemed better postponed for as long as possible.

Z expected Charlotte to be as difficult, hostile and argumentative as she was capable of being. Charlotte had never been the oil on troubled waters type of person. However, she seemed to have come to the grown-up conclusion that they needed some kind of working relationship, and they were able to discuss arrangements in a cool, clipped way. On the whole it was less painful she anticipated, though she had moments of staring at Charlotte in the middle of whatever was happening and thinking, But this is Charlotte. Charlotte didn't refuse outright to deal with her, or offer open hostilities and Z found herself taking her lead although she had always struggled against doing that in any case. They did quarrel and quibble, however, and took an age to come to agreement on anything. They seemed to have entered into a pact to be disappointed and disapproving at every turn with their travels and the experiences and sights they encountered. Sometimes they alighted on a small patch of genuine enjoyment and enthusiasm which they conspired to forget afterwards.

One night they were at a ball together. Sometimes during these things they would end up being introduced to a group of people as wife and wife and feel constrained to spend much of the evening in strained cordiality, at other times they managed to separate early and catch hardly a glimpse of each other all night. Z was sitting down, talking to someone when Charlotte danced right past her, her dress floating out so that it brushed over Z's knees. Nothing to make any impression on Z's brain except that when she looked up she saw the man Charlotte was dancing with. He was no one in particular, but he looked very taken and intent, and Z's eyes narrowed at his hand tightly clasping her waist. She leaned forward, trying to see what Charlotte looked like. But they were hidden by the crowds and Z sat back feeling stupidly stung and troubled by the realisation she felt jealousy.

She felt it even more sure and bitter on another occasion when she saw Charlotte watching a pretty girl, her gaze falling to her ankles and up again to her face. Z came to the reluctant conclusion that perhaps she had not, as she hoped, ceased to care about Charlotte, but merely started to dislike her. Something about the thought brought on a welling up of loneliness.

She missed Tennessee. They had always said before that they'd bring her on the honeymoon, but even if Z hadn't felt for herself the oddness of doing it now, it would put Tennessee in too awkward a position.

*

Eventually they must return to England and to the house they were to live in; a spare house Charlotte's parents had in the country and had given to her on their marriage. Of course, on their deaths there were other houses she would have; this was why Z was married to her, after all. Having only themselves and each other for company did not somehow seem thinkable if they were to be stationary. Charlotte invited some of her own friends and Z Tennessee (the awkwardness must be faced now, for she felt she could not do without her) Ryan (almost more awkward, really) and Greenwald, and Laena and Annie. The parties themselves were not particularly separate, but Z and Charlotte managed to retreat in terms of conversation and looking at the other directly, so that it seemed odd now for Z to look back on the level of familiarity they maintained on the honeymoon.

It was Z and Tennessee now. Z thought how much nicer it would be if she could have married Tennessee instead, but then Tennessee had no fortune. She put up Tennessee's hair for her when it fell down and wondered guiltily, guilty both for imposing on Tennessee in her thoughts and, bizarrely, for wishing Charlotte away, when she did wish Charlotte away, what kind of marriage it might be, with Tennessee.

"Are you quite sure Charlotte will not be reconciled?" Tennessee asked tentatively out of nowhere.

Z took her hand off Tennessee's neck quickly. If truth be told, she was not quite sure Charlotte would not make it up if Z went to her and grovelled and said she saw how she'd been mistaken in the things she said. Charlotte had tried almost openly to leave her and Tennessee behind but it was possible she'd take them back now if offered easily. But although Z would not allow herself to do that out of pride, and an honest conviction she should not enable Charlotte in that way, that was not really the first reason. She felt raw and stinging, unthinkable to face, at the thought of admitting to Charlotte she cared enough to make the first step. It would be a confession both to herself and Charlotte that she cared more than Charlotte.

"It's just one of those childish friendships where eventually those involved realise they have nothing to bring them together now. It just took a little longer with us and Charlotte, that's all," Z said. It was true, really; the alienation was the type associated with younger girls. An attempt to abandon old friends for more exciting new ones and at the same time improve stock with the old friends had resulted in a cloud of acrimony that only generated more.

Tennessee frowned. She disliked confrontation and unpleasantness though she usually stuck up for herself when the chips were down. She'd tried to stay out of the Z/Charlotte row and was somewhat surprised and affronted that even so she had found herself on one side of it. She had known Charlotte even longer than Z, after all, and at least with Z and Charlotte it had not been such a simple, cold thing as leaving and being left. Z was glad for her own sake she'd made it more equal with all those hurtful things she'd said. She hoped they'd left their mark.

"She doesn't want to be friends with either of us, Tennessee," she said, more harshly. "There's no good mooning after her."

"I'm not mooning, it's just ... no one consulted me!" Tennessee cried in mock exasperation. "And now everything is so different and I can't help wishing I could do something."

"It's not so bad, really," said Z, wishing to cheer Tennessee a little.

*

Z overheard Greenwald congratulating himself at having won a bet with Ryan as to whether Charlotte would look at Z three times during dinner.

"She always does," he said. "I'm surprised you haven't noticed, Z. She's obviously made a rule to allow herself three and only three glances."

Z, who honestly tried to pretend Charlotte wasn't there at mealtimes, was quite buoyed up to hear this. She didn't dare to look in Charlotte's direction at dinner the next evening but felt her cheeks hot the whole meal, convinced at every moment that Charlotte's eyes were upon her.

Ryan and Alex were constantly passing money back and forth over small attempts to entertain themselves with bets on whether they could swap people's hats without them noticing, or how people would react if they wore frightful scarecrow clothes to dinner, or how many stairs they could jump down without breaking legs. Charlotte insisted on standing on the staircase for that, arms flung out in an attempt to protect the banisters. Z decided to join in while they were arguing about whether Ryan's jump counted, given that he had slithered down most of the stairs on his knees.

"Watch," she commanded, standing higher up than Ryan or Greenwald had attempted. Charlotte turned, startled, and someone said "You'll tear your dress." Z felt oddly gratified when Charlotte pressed herself against the banisters in alarm as Z leapt past her, giving Charlotte a level glare first as if she might be going to jump on top of her and knock her flying, hands bunched in her skirt to stop it billowing out above the waist. She landed hard on her knees and she let out an "Aargh" sound but stood up quickly and said "I'm fine! And I win."

"Oh, stop being so pleased with yourself," said Alex a little while later when she was still lording it over them. "We should see if you can pull off something a little bigger."

"You should," said Z. "You're not going to fool me into jumping off the roof."

"Steal Lady Irgood's necklace!" said Tennessee. "Or, well, you could replace it with paste for a while if you don't fancy making too much trouble."

Ryan and Alex looked thoughtful.

"I suppose it might be quite fun," Ryan said thoughtfully. "If Z didn't do it when she was there by invitation but crept over there in the dark or something."

"Very well," said Z, because she liked it when she had something to think about. Also, it would be nice if she could win some money. Nicer still if Charlotte didn't know about it.

"At least now we know there's a reason for Lady Irgood to be so unlikeable," said Tennessee. "You see, we would feel bad about robbing her for our own amusement if she was nicer."

Lady Irgood was indeed convenient in this context – a cold, snobbish, prickly woman who had much shared opinions about the superiority of her possessions in comparison to those of other people.

*

A replica of Lady Irgood's diamond necklace must be obtained, and to that end they were forced to wait a few weeks until there was a ball at which, hopefully, this necklace would be worn. Z smuggled in a scrap of paper and a little pencil, and tried to make a rough sketch while Tennessee, Greenwald and Annie (the people who had been in the room at the time of the suggestion and asked not to spread it about) made excuses to waylay Lady Irgood and peer at her too. It was nerve-wracking making the final sketch and Z was very short with people who quibbled as to whether there was not a bobble here or there without being able to commit themselves.

"Well, that's what I'm sending the jeweller, whether it's right or not," said Z finally.

"I couldn't swear to every detail with all my conscience," said Tennessee. "But when I close my eyes and imagine her neck, that's what I see."

And so the fake was made and declared fit for duty.

"Now you have only to creep over there in the dead of night and perform your dastardly deed," said Greenwald, clapping his hands.

"I was thinking of going in the evening while they should all be at dinner, actually," said Z. "I only can't decide whether I want to ride there or walk four miles and back."

"Horseback!" said Tennessee. "I will ride over there with you and provide support and guidance. And if you got caught I could gallop away and pretend I was never there."

*

Z felt securely occupied as she rode across the countryside, Tennessee's arms around her waist. It was good to feel like she was attacking a task instead of avoiding something all day, feeling on edge and then comfortable when she went to bed because another day had been accomplished.

Tennessee gave her a leg-up onto the overhang above a door and stood gazing up, her hands held to the sides of her face as Z pulled herself up onto a ledge that ran under the first floor windows and edged her way past two rooms to what they were almost sure was Lady Irgood's bedroom. She managed to heave herself over the windowsill and fell heavily onto the floor. Afraid someone might have heard she rolled under the bed and lay there, heart pounding for a minutes. When she warily poked her head up, she found she was indeed in Lady Irgood's seemingly empty bedroom. Z dashed about rummaging through everything as lightly as possible. She was beginning to despair and wonder if Lady Irgood had put the thing in the bank as really she ought when she found a secret compartment in the dressing table.

Z stood up on the ledge outside and waved the necklace at Tennessee, who waved her empty arms back. It looked a great deal more difficult to get down once she was up, and Z dithered before leaping onto the overhang above the door and almost missing. From there she decided it would be alright to jump onto the horse. This was achieved without injury to herself or the horse but the horse startled and trotted smartly off.

"Wait for me!" cried Tennessee in a yell-whisper, running after them. Z tried at once to calm the horse and encourage Tennessee to let her help her up. The horse would not quite come to a halt but between them they managed to pull Tennessee up. She was in front of Z this time, her hair blowing in Z's face.

"Can't you feel your criminal inclinations taking you over?" asked Tennessee, turning her head so her cheek brushed against Z's.

"Certainly," said Z. "Let's run away this moment and be highwaymen. Highwayladies." The scenario was not without its charms and Z got rather lost in thoughts of her and Tennessee's life as ladylike, dangerous ruffians.

It was strange to be back indoors after the long dark ride.

"So when will I win my bet?" asked Z, having sneaked up on Ryan and made him yell by putting the cold necklace around his neck but failed to fasten the clasp before he turned round.

"Well, when you return it without her having noticed the difference, I suppose," he said.

"You should give her a chance to wear it and prove she didn't notice the difference, and then the thing's accomplished besides the business of taking it back," said Greenwald.

Z looked at the necklace later in private, holding it so the light drew the coloured twinkle out of the glassy white diamonds, and thought about how she could prise the stones out, sell them and run away on the spoils. She didn't have an income that wasn't tied to the approval of her parents or Charlotte so if she ever did want to really make a life away from Charlotte, this was her chance. She could feel her heart thud uncomfortably fast as she tried the idea as a future, not merely an idle castle in the air. Trying first of all to get away with a crime was an alarming prospect, and then she must contemplate the enormity of such a step. Z thought that perhaps she might wrangle Tennessee as the only luggage carried over from one life to the next (if she was selfish, and the more she thought about it the more uncertain she felt Tennessee would not consider it her duty to prevent her from inflicting such drastic consequences on herself. Tennessee could go either way and often turned sensible just when Z decided not to) but still. She didn't know if she wanted to leave everything behind more than she wanted not to leave everything behind. Her parents, her friends, her good name – she had settled into this house, even, inclined as she was to be at best indifferent. She liked the rugs, and the view from her window, and the sleepy feel of the rooms.

Z paced round her room, intoxicated by the notion that she could flee this very night and make her way to London. Somehow she did not go, and got into bed in the end, though without having decided against the idea. Much the same thoughts occurred the next night, and the next, though on that night she was interrupted.

Z jumped guiltily at a knock on the door. When it opened she was surprised to see Charlotte standing there shuffling her feet a little, looking hesitant. She wondered for one wild moment if Charlotte had come to seek reconciliation, starved out by silence.

"I want – I have a proposition," said Charlotte after a short silence. She opened her hand to reveal a pack of cards, looked nervously behind her into the corridor and came further into the room, shutting the door behind her.

"It's about Tennessee. I would like to – try to become closer to her. And I believe you would also like that. So I thought it would be best if we decided in some way."

Z's eye went back to the pack of cards. "You want to play for Tennessee?" she exclaimed, caught between hilarity and outrage. She wondered who Charlotte thought she was to win or lose Tennessee, as if a game of cards could change anything Tennessee did.

"In a word, yes," said Charlotte, sitting down at a little table and putting her chin up in a stubborn fashion.

Z gaped at her and thoughts of pushing her out of the room in high dudgeon or telling Tennessee all about it faded. She thought that perhaps Tennessee would – with either of them, depending on who dared first and best to make an overture. Charlotte still meant a lot to her, even if only in memories and sentimental value, these days. She would not turn down an offer of friendship and Z could believe that if they were friends again Tennessee would be inclined to become more intimate. Making that suggestion of intimacy to Tennessee herself had not seemed something it was especially wise to think about in the circumstances, but if it came down to it Z had a small amount of confidence it would not be unwelcome. Her reservations about making that step were entirely gone if it was a choice between her or Charlotte doing so.

She looked at Charlotte with narrowed eyes and slowly sat down.

"And if I do not take up your offer of a game?" Z asked.

Charlotte shrugged. "I shall follow my own wishes without reference to yours."

In a way, Z supposed it was good of Charlotte to come to her like this. Perhaps this was her way of trying to do the right thing – instead of going ahead she was giving Z an equal chance and would presumably accept it if she won. If Charlotte won, Z would at least be forewarned of the development. It was worth consideration also that Z did not have to go through with it if she won and did not feel brave enough.

Z stared at the table for a few moments. She could feel Charlotte's eyes upon her; anxious, she hoped. "I accept," she said, as coolly and boldly as she could.

She wondered what Tennessee would think if she saw them playing cards for her affections, if she would think it funny or be angry.

Charlotte won. Z stared at Charlotte's hands and drew in a breath and held it as if that might somehow stop her feeling like she was about to choke on anger.

Charlotte could not prevent a small smile from playing about her lips but she seemed a little at a loss. She gathered the cards up and made some business of knocking the pack on the table to straighten the edges. "Well. Thank you for playing."

"You can go now."

And go Charlotte did, though slowly, and turning round at the door to take too long picking up her skirt.

Z rapped her knuckles on the table and wondered if there was something she could have done better in the scene just past. It was probably not even as if anything excitingly dismaying or enraging would happen right away, or that she would even know if it did. They had not broached the subject of whether the loser need keep silence over the game but Z decided that she would for the foreseeable future. If she rushed off to tell Tennessee this minute, Tennessee would probably be too bemused by the very notion to react to Charlotte with the indignant rejection Z might like. If she waited until there had been some kind of rapprochement between Tennessee and Charlotte then there was more likelihood of the story serving only to embarrass her. Really, what she hoped most was that she would not end up on the other side of a divide by herself this time. She had, in some ways, almost hoped for Tennessee's sake that she and Charlotte could be friends again, but she would never make it up herself and with the best will in the world it would be difficult for Tennessee to be friends with both of them.

Z got into bed as if to declare the incident done with. Her thoughts turned in the dark to friendship, connections made and lost – thrown away, in fact – nostalgia and the impossibility of getting back what was lost, and two tears slid into her hair.

The next morning Z of course scrutinised Tennessee and Charlotte, separately and together. Tennessee seemed natural, Charlotte perhaps a little odd but not in regard to Tennessee. It was some way through the day before Z recalled her ideas of running away and considered what effect this new development might have. In a way, the notion of fleeing and never being heard of more had a certain peevish appeal, but the prospect of hanging around to see exactly what happened like some kind of chaperone was less resistible.

Another day or two passed without anything seeming to happen and Z became so impatient it felt like she almost wanted Tennessee to be with Charlotte, though really the prospect made her squirm with jealousy. Then one morning she awoke early to Tennessee shaking her shoulder.

"Z, Z, wake up, I have something important to tell you. Wake up properly, I need you to understand." Her tone was suited to raising the alarm of fire and Z sat up at once. "I spent the night with Charlotte and I wanted you to know."

"I think that may be a little too much information, Tennessee," said Z.

Tennessee pursed her lips as if what she had feared had already begun. "I just wanted to know if it was alright," she said.

"Why are you asking me? It's your business, you don't have to ask me for permission."

"Well. She is your wife. We can't ignore that entirely. And I'd hate – I don't want it to be just like before, two on one side and one on the other, only me with Charlotte instead of you."

Z sighed. She supposed this was better by far than it could have been. "You can be piggy-in-the-middle if you want," she said. "I won't get upset about it." She held out her arms as Tennessee leaned forwards to hug her.

She almost asked what it was like to have Charlotte make herself pleasant for once and if it was easy to forget what a monster she was the rest of the time, but it seemed less than generous.

Tennessee left before long to allow Z to sleep some more. Z turned over and decided that this put paid to the Sell Stolen Diamonds and Run Away idea. She would have to leave Tennessee as well as Charlotte and more to the point, she would be leaving Tennessee with Charlotte. Then she wondered if this feeling was not unworthy. Tennessee was her friend, after all, her friend with free will, what's more, and what was it to her if she associated with someone Z did not like? She should be nonchalant and unresentful. Filled with resolve and hoping it would see her through, she drifted off to sleep.

*

So Tennessee was piggy-in-the-middle, and a sorry thing to be that was. She still spent more time with Z, but she would smile sunnily at Charlotte when they were in the same room and occasionally go and whisper something quickly. Sometimes she would announce she was spending the afternoon with Charlotte, making it sound rather as if she was going on a long trip and must make adequate farewells for it would be long before she saw Z again. So thoroughly had she been impressed with the idea that there was no communication possible between Z and Charlotte.

It was not long, though, before she grew weary enough with this state of affairs for the will to change it to take firm root.

"Charlotte's still the same person she always was, you know. All you have to do is want to get over this rift, and there is no rift! It's all a fuss about nothing. If you want to get back what we used to have, and why would you not, it's there!"

"You should share that magic spell with the world, Tennessee."

"What about showing just a smidgen more warmth and seeing what happens? You don't have to make any grand gestures."

Z did not reply. Her resolve was bearing up fairly well beyond the odd twitch at seeing Tennessee and Charlotte together; better than she might have expected. Conversations like this, however, tested it. She knew Tennessee must be putting similar arguments to Charlotte, and if Charlotte did not yield, make a gesture, ergo she did not care to make friends again. Where then was the incentive for Z to show more generosity than pride?

She could see it was frustrating for Tennessee not to have them all talk and enjoy themselves together as they used to, but one had to accept these things in life. She had found the calm maturity and perspective to overcome her own irritation at situations that would not be mended, and so must Tennessee.

Z was put out when it became apparent that though her friends did not realise the full extent of the Tennessee/Charlotte situation, they thought they detected the pain it must cause her.

"You do see things so very black and white," said Laena. "I know things are difficult with Charlotte but it's as though every time you look at her the word ENEMY blazes out of your eyes. And I know you're trying to be good to Tennessee about it but sometimes it does seem like you think she's consorting with the enemy and betraying you a little. If you could be a little more neutral ... it would be just like all the other people whose company she is in without you caring a jot."

"I know it is like that," said Z. "I am not such a possessive, jealous friend as you seem to think me. I do not care! I don't care in the slightest!" She relished the words and they seemed to give her power, soothing her like a cool hand laid on her brow. When she was much younger, before she met Tennessee and Charlotte, she had never been vulnerable to other people's actions or their thoughts of her. She was self-contained and self-sufficient and it had always been plain that she did not care. She should adopt that old self again.

Z could not quite not care about her indignation at having it constantly (or so it seemed) suggested that she be a little more – do something a little more – as if quite suddenly she was not quite right and could be right if only she would. She went through spells of feeling got at and misunderstood and very sullen and would then shake it off with a sense of embarrassment, because really that was not being herself, whichever way she looked at it.

*

The day came (or evening, really) that Lord and Lady Irgood held a great dinner and the diamond necklace of paste was worn. Z felt a tinge of fatalistic gloom about shutting herself in with the situation as it was, but at the same time eager to get the necklace back in its place and the whole thing over and done with. After all, if she really wanted to get away someday she could surely scrape together the resources somehow.

Z rode over to replace the necklace, again with Tennessee. She wasn't especially responsive when Tennessee talked to her. The nights were getting lighter and something about the grey twilight and the way the sky seemed to touch down on the earth to enclose everything Z could see in a shallow bowl made her feel tired.

When they got back Z expected to go and find Ryan and Alex and make her winning of the bet official. Instead she and Tennessee stopped short as they first came across Charlotte lurking about in the hall. She got up from the seat, stepped forwards as if to block their path, and did nothing more than flush.

"What is it?" asked Tennessee.

Charlotte pushed open a door and beckoned them in. Z reluctantly followed Tennessee.

"Where have you been?" demanded Charlotte, with a whine in her voice and a look that suggested she knew her question was a confession of weakness.

Oh, thought Z. She was afraid we'd run away together.

"Oh honestly," said Tennessee. "Why are you making such a fuss?"

Charlotte hesitated before throwing away pretence. "What do you think I thought? I saw you riding off together." The indignation seemed to puff her out like an angry cat.

"It's not like we took any of our things. Surely you went to see if we had," said Z.

"So where have you been?" asked Charlotte.

"Just out for a ride, you know," said Z, opposed on principle to telling Charlotte anything.

Charlotte turned and gestured at the window, securely muffled up with curtains. "It's the middle of the night!"

"Practically early evening," Tennessee said firmly. "We're not holding an inquiry, Charlotte."

But Charlotte persisted, and Z did not relish the thought of having dark suspicions held against her for years to come, so she told the truth.

"Oh," said Charlotte, deflated. Z let a discreet silence fall, hoping to leave the room in a moment.

Tennessee looked from one to the other, her face suddenly filled with hope, stretching her arms out to both of them, not quite touching either. "Can't we – be together? A three again?"

Z continued silent, not because she was considering it, or was waiting for Charlotte to say something, but because she was reluctant to disappoint Tennessee directly.

Tennessee looked again from Charlotte to Z, then stepped forwards and kissed Z softly on the lips. Z went very still. She concentrated on their lips brushing, the skin there tingling. Tennessee's body was not touching hers, but she was in her bodily warmth zone. Z let her physical awareness fill her perceptions, disturbed only by the fear Tennessee would step away. She could feel Tennessee's breath on her lips, her nose almost brushing hers. She had a curious sensation in her lower belly, hot and racing, alarmed but excited, pleading.

Tennessee leant in again and both their mouths slipped open. Z put her hands on Tennessee's shoulders, and Tennessee put one hand on Z's waist, the other at the back of her neck, fingering the soft tufts of hair. Z moved nearer so the tips of her shoes meet Tennessee's and her breasts meet Tennessee's firmly enough that she would feel Tennessee's breasts yield if she were wearing less. Z stretched a hand out behind her to Charlotte, who took it, then hesitated.

Z stopped kissing Tennessee and looked at Tennessee and Charlotte. Tennessee was only at her, a waiting, paused look. Charlotte looked perhaps as if she had just been awoken with some serious news, a slightly shocked, fogged yet concentrating look. She began to concentrate on undoing the back of Tennessee's gown. Working on some thought connection, Z put a hand to the top of her own breasts. The skin was cool and felt colder when her warm hand was there. She kissed Tennessee's neck, opening her mouth and sucking a little, looking over at Charlotte who was dipping her knees down now. Tennessee's bodice fell down around her waist, and Z bent her knees herself to lick her collarbone as Charlotte worked on undoing Tennessee's stays.

Tennessee pulled her chemise down her shoulders herself in a quick, impatient movement. Z cupped one of Tennessee's breasts in her hand. She could feel its weight and the nipple against her warm, rather damp palm. She looked at it long enough that it seemed to become oddly separate, as if Tennessee was a composition of parts she was not sure what to do with. She was conscious of Charlotte's watching face, a blur in the corner of her eye, and she did not want to let Tennessee down. Tennessee brushed her cheek roughly and smiled at her as if she could see what was in Z's head. Her body seemed to resolve itself into a person again, into Tennessee, and Z bent her head and licked the bumpy aureole around Tennessee's nipple.

Tennessee seemed to sway back, resting some of her weight on Charlotte. Charlotte put an arm round her shoulder, and turned her head to kiss her. Z glanced up before turning her attention to Tennessee's other breast and looked away again quickly, not knowing if the sharpness that went through her was interest or bitterness. She put her hands on Tennessee's hips, only to meet Charlotte's. She jumped but put them back again, her palms against the backs of Charlotte's hands, her fingers placed in the gaps between Charlotte's. Tennessee looked down and smiled, her eyelids falling down over her eyes.

Charlotte's hands moved down and Z let her hands be moved with them, to where Tennessee's skirt swayed a little between her slightly open legs. Travelling down the inside of her legs, they got to the hem of her skirt and moved their hands up again, lifting up the skirt and petticoats as they went.

Charlotte darted away and Z and Tennessee startled – Z dropped Tennessee's skirt and had to pull it off her head. But she was only locking the door as horrifyingly no one had thought to before.

Tennessee ended up lying on a couch, naked except for the bunches of fabric hanging off her awkwardly. One leg almost touched the floor, the other flung over the back of the couch. Z perched perilously beside her, watching the tendons in her wrists move as she stroked between Tennessee's legs. Tennessee had her head in Charlotte's lap, who bent down, her hair come mostly loose, to kiss her and stroke her upper body. Tennessee wriggled, rocking her pelvis up. Z bit down a foolish smile of delighted satisfaction that it was working, and slid a finger into Tennessee, pushing it in and out. She curled her third finger round so the knuckle rubbed against the little mound above. Tennessee laid her hand lightly above Z's, then pressing it harder against herself when the climax was near. Z watched the flush spread from Tennessee's chest to her face, and knew it was done when Tennessee gasped, and felt her clenching and unclenching around her finger.

Z held onto Tennessee's thigh with her wet fingers and leaned forwards to kiss Tennessee. Tennessee's mouth was hot and she leaned up to meet Z and clasped the back of her head firmly. Tennessee looked exhilarated, freed and loosened, exhaling a breathy almost-laugh and it seemed like Z ought to be too in sympathy, but it wasn't finished for her at all; she was trying to keep still and not grind down on the sofa.

Tennessee sat up properly, and with her hands on Z's shoulders gently pushed her away a little. Charlotte reached out to Tennessee, stroking her hair tentatively then putting her face into her neck and cupping a breast. Tennessee's face looked troubled, like wind sweeping in and ruffling a calm lake, and without quite pulling away she turned so that her back was against the back of the couch and Charlotte could not hang over her.

"So. Are you two ready to kiss and make up?" asked Tennessee.

A feeling of cold dread came over Z. It was obviously all about to end badly because Tennessee had to go and ask for something impossible. Charlotte looked as if she felt the same way. For a moment Z wondered if it was possible, if she and Charlotte could mock up some superficially good terms to be on. She looked away, rubbing her damp fingers on her other hand so that all was a little stickier but on the whole drier. There was a cold silence from the other side of Tennessee.

"You're not?" Tennessee does not sound surprised, simply wishing to clearly establish the standing on which they were on. "Not at all? To any degree?"

Z looked at her knees and traced a pattern across her skirt as she barely shook her head. She saw a movement out of the corner of her eye that suggested Charlotte had also shaken her head. She felt a certain pang of disappointment, though depending on Charlotte to make things easy was an expectation that could only be formed readymade for disappointment.

"You're not willing to be friendly again, even to make my situation here a little less awkward?" Tennessee's voice was irritated but mostly calm, as if she already knew the answer.

The answer she received was more silence, Z tracing a circle round and round on her knee and half waiting for the silence to be broken, half urging it to stretch out.

"I see. So this situation is supposed to be permanent, is it?" Tennessee stood up and began trying to reform her dress. "Well, I am tired of being the only person who likes everyone and I am tired of both of you wanting me to take your part and mooning around all forlorn when I don't. And I can't stay here forever in any case; I don't know what position you think it would put me in but I can tell you I don't want to be in it."

Z supposed she referred not only to the quarrel between herself and Charlotte but her relation to a married couple that might soon come to seem odd, especially as she did run a risk of appearing a poor hanger-on. She might have painted things in a rosier light, and might yet try to do so, but now did not seem the right time.

Tennessee turned to the mirror to straighten her hair, Z and Charlotte's doleful faces reflected behind her.

"So ... what do you intend to do?" asked Charlotte.

"I am going to go home. Tomorrow. And I shall write you both nice friendly letters, and see you when you come up to London."

Charlotte frowned and Z supposed she was struggling with her wish to know quite what Tennessee was proposing. Nothing more than friends with either of them?

Still not quite fit to be seen, Tennessee unlocked the door and quickly ran upstairs. Z and Charlotte's gaze uneasily connected and they both got to their feet and left through separate doors.

Z was sure that Charlotte, like herself, had gone to her room to pleasure herself. It was noticeable that Tennessee had not pushed the issue until after she had reached completion.

A little later, she ruefully considered the whole situation. Tennessee had been upset and angry, but to a minimal degree, really, considering that she was leaving. It seemed as if she had considered her terms and conditions and made up her mind beforehand. In a way, Z felt that a little respite may be welcomed by her as well as Tennessee. She did not know what other way that tableau downstairs might have gone, and she didn't feel ready to know. Perhaps, if Tennessee left and they met again when feelings and resentments had had time to cool, a solution congenial to all might simultaneously occur.

Then she remembered about the completed bet, and felt she really must go and tell them about it. The thought of winning money was not devoid of the power to cheer her a little.

*

It was somewhat awkward to pass off Tennessee's sudden departure. Ryan did not really have the most perceptive of natures but he kept asking, "But why did she go? Why did you all look so stiff and resolved at breakfast? Is she going somewhere unpleasant?" so that it seemed best to tell him that the atmosphere between the three of them had become a little fractious and Tennessee's patience had frayed.

It was awkward, too, for a few days, to see Charlotte. It was a little odd to have been in that situation with someone one was officially hardly speaking to. Somehow it became easier in a few days; Z could firmly pretend it hadn't happened. Or at least, she still returned yearningly to the memory of what it had been like with Tennessee, but managed, except occasionally when she was alone and would not immediately have to see Charlotte, to forget that Charlotte had been there.

*

As the weeks wore on, their guests all gradually left. They were replaced with others, not so dear or as much of a boon to their sort of household – Charlotte's aunt, though a low point, almost united them in defence against her. Z wasn't sure how it happened, but they started, speaking again, having actual conversations on household affairs or even social matters. Not much friendlier than they had been on honeymoon, but still, it seemed that allowing themselves the possibility of diving into the more enjoyable society of others as an opportunity to avoid maintaining marital civility meant that they would take it, and that perhaps a bare minimum of cordiality between them was a good and useful thing and the neglect of it bad.

The routine they settled into gave Z a certain satisfaction, feeling herself a grown woman able to compromise. She wondered, in a slightly detached manner, as if the life that was forming around her was not yet quite tangible, if this was the way things were going to be. If all marriages were like this in the end, when everything else they had been was over and now the most important thing was that this was the person who lived in the house with you. She did not stop thinking of Tennessee, though. If she and Charlotte had not been married to each other, one of them could have been with her – had a real love affair.

*

The London Season approached. Z liked having the prospect of seeing Tennessee again before her, but wasn't sure she felt ready to actually reach and pass that point. Also, she felt that she was imagining to herself a Tennessee that was sweet, idyllic, placid, always light-hearted, and although logically she knew that when they met she would feel a slight startlement as the real Tennessee dropped back into place, the thought of meeting that concentrate version and being bitterly overwhelmed by what could never be induced some feelings of shrinking.

And so they went up to London, and things were not much different. Z spent time with Charlotte sometimes on social outings, just to see if she could, and it was not so bad. There was the big meeting with Tennessee, but though it was nice it was an anti-climax, compared to the versions Z's brain had made. Tennessee's behaviour was very ordinary, almost the ordinary of older days. Z did not think she had seen either of them alone yet, and she at least had not yet pressed for it. Perhaps it would be better if all their relations became tepid. While she was planning a life of denied affections and sacrifice, another part of Z was sure none of them were so controlled that they would not give the sensitive matter a good poke before long. It was simply a matter of leaving time alone to build up a momentum.

In this mood of waiting for things to come down, Z went to a masked ball. It was outside her usual social circle, and she thought perhaps it might be for once mysterious, an excuse for behaviour out of the everyday way, rather than the usual dressing up to be pretty rather than unrecognisable and spending the night giggling with friends. Z didn't exactly make sure of slipping out of the house without Charlotte noticing, but she hoped it would work out that way, and so it did.

She found a girl at the masque, or rather a girl found her. She wore an ornate mask that obscured a little more of her face than most people's. She said her name was Miss Smith, holding onto Z's wrist, with a self deprecating smirk in her voice, as if she was a little shy and asking Z to make this easy. Z wasn't sure if she was drawn to the girl – except she was. She wanted to pursue the connection the girl had boldly made, and see where it led. She hesitated between Z and Elizabeth, and gave her name as Z – Elizabeth was her distant stranger's name but Z sounded like a pseudonym.

Have you come alone?" asked Z, and the girl nodded. She put out a hand and trailed a finger down the back of Z's neck. Quick as a retaliation, Z put a slippered foot between Miss Smith's and moved it further up the inside of her leg, trying not to raise her own leg enough for people to see. The girl clamped hers legs shut, trapping Z's ankle between her knees. Z tottered off-balance and Miss Smith clasped her ankle for a moment under the pretence of grasping her skirts before giving it back to her.

She turned and pulled Z by the wrist a little further back to an empty corner half curtained off. Z smartly pulled the curtain round fully and turned back to the girl. She stepped up to her and kissed her hard on the mouth. Just one kiss, but she didn't need to kiss again or move away, because the girl was kissing her back. Rather fiercely, too, cupping Z's chin and pressing hard enough that Z could imagine red marks when she let go. Her back prickled all the while with awareness of the curtain behind her, which might open or be stumbled into at any time. She wondered if she ought to, if she ought to abide by her bind to Charlotte, if she should be good like she'd planned to be. But she liked being entirely away from all that, doing something on her own (sort of), feeling wanted – and she wanted this girl. Miss Smith began to pull down Z's neckline to expose her breasts, and Z helped her before passing her palms over the other girl's bosom in her flimsy dress. She followed the contours of her waist to where her gown dipped at the meeting of her thighs.

Miss Smith seemed to think her suggestion an excellent idea, and in a quick flurry of material, Z was able to tentatively slide her fingers between the girl's legs to find, with a small, delighted shock, her hot, wet cunt. Miss Smith held onto Z's elbows, inhaling sharply in time with Z's fingers. Z could not help looking around ever so often. She was unsure whether she should try to make Miss Smith finish or whether they should disentangle themselves before they were found. She hardly noticed the hand stealing up her thigh underneath her skirt, and arched her neck back when Miss Smith pushed two fingers inside her. Z decided she couldn't leave until her need to have the feeling between her legs built and built was over. She leaned towards the girl's mouth again, abandoning caution.

When it was over they stumbled free of each other. Z stroked a strand of fair hair off the girl's face, which she patted in an awkward gesture.

"Well," said Z, not sure how to bring the encounter to an end. Loud voices came towards them, and Z jumped, pulling her dress into decency. She was not as alarmed as Miss Smith, who made only the briefest gestures of her own before practically crashing through the curtain and darting off. Z sidled out a moment later and bemusedly watched the girl steadily make her way through the crowd and disappear from sight. She began to wonder if Miss Smith was not some kind of attempted thief or other criminal without much nerve. Or perhaps she had been found herself unable to take her leave more gracefully, or truly was so easily alarmed.

Z managed to shrug the incident off for a while, and stayed until the unmasking. She was unpleasantly surprised to find that the daughter of one of her mother's friends was present, and was thankful she had not been more indiscreet. She could only hope nothing would get back as it was. She had visions of Charlotte being dutifully informed, and while she probably wouldn't care, the prospect was most embarrassing.

*

Z was ready to retire for the night, but still she prevaricated and did not extinguish the light. Remembrances of Miss Smith's touch on her skin agitated her mind, though she told herself it was foolish to let it. It was nothing out of the ordinary; people did libidinous things casually all the time, really.

There was a scratch at the door, and Charlotte opened it, much like that time she'd come to gamble on Tennessee. She looked anxious and Z expected to be called to deal with some problem in the house, perhaps a fire or a sick servant.

"Let's change," Charlotte said abruptly. "We can – can we be like we were?"

Z's mouth fell open because she could not believe this moment had actually happened. She had waited and Charlotte had cracked first. Not only victory but a glorious reaffirmation that the world was kind and under the most abrasive exterior may exist tender feelings. Z let out a strangled sort of squeal and hugged Charlotte. Charlotte hugged her back, hard, laughing in relief. So strange to be so close to her again, feel her hair tickling her neck.

"You really want to be as we were? My friend?" Z laid a stress on the word friend, which had become a little enshrined over the months, as their friendship had come to seem more golden and intense, more consciously happy, more of a union, than it seemed in the living of it.

It was probably this stress on friendship that gave Charlotte pause. "I ought probably – I have something to declare." Charlotte took a deep breath. "I am Miss Smith!" she announced, with about as much drama it was possible to imbue the words.

Z started to laugh and sat down on the bed, giggling into her knuckles and staring at Charlotte in much astonishment.

"But it wasn't! I would have recognised you – anyone I actually know."

"I wore a wig! And stood on tiptoe so as to appear taller!" said Charlotte defensively.

"Really? Are you sure you weren't just sneaking about and saw me?"

"Quite sure. I was behind the curtain with you and everything." Z began to blush. "I could show you the wig and mask."

Z ignored the offer and said, "But how did you come to be there?"

"I saw you leave, guessed where you'd gone, and followed you." Charlotte frowned. "I don't actually know why. And approaching you as I did – that was a mad whim of the moment."

Z began to look at Charlotte anew. It was strange to suddenly realise she had been intimate with her unawares, to have to go back and superimpose Charlotte and Miss Smith together. The thought of Miss Smith having been a bewigged Charlotte all the while, teetering on tiptoe, was one she was inclined to find hilarious, and she wanted it to have been Charlotte. But still, it felt as if Charlotte had been with her and she had not been with Charlotte. Which was unfair.

"I suppose what I want to ask now is, shall we be friends, and only friends – or shall we do it again?"

"We'll do it again," Z said determinedly, and surprised it was under question.

Charlotte's face continued clouded for a moment, as if she had more worries. Then she grinned and pulled her nightdress over her head, while Z watched her body emerge with eyes she imagined were wide. "Now?"

Z, back to being wondrous that she and Charlotte were here like this, skimmed her hands up and down Charlotte's soft thighs, touched the inside of her wrist for no other reason than the blue caught her eye. She stood up on the bed and half hung over Charlotte's shoulder, steadied by the hand she laid against the side of her face, kissing and licking and breathing in the skin of her neck and shoulder. Charlotte's hands firmly grasped Z's bottom, and after squeezing her buttocks pulled her down to kiss her mouth.

Z sunk to a kneeling position on the bed, Charlotte, advancing on her knees, making her back away to make room. She ended up on her back and Charlotte pulled her nightgown up. They struggled for a moment when they tried to get it over her head and shoulders and Charlotte wasn't giving Z enough room to lean up. Charlotte knelt above her, her knees on either side of Z's thighs and leant down, her hair spread over Z's chest and neck as she circled one of Z's nipples, her breath flickering over it in tandem with her tongue. Z rocked her hips back and forth and tried to feel Charlotte's cunt against her thigh. Charlotte reared away at first but settled into a straddling position, rubbing herself just below Z's hipbone. Charlotte's hand swooshed in soothing circles over her stomach and breasts.

Charlotte threw her head back so her hair was no longer covering her face and looked at Z. "Do you remember me? Do you know me?" she said, with what seemed to Z to be unfocused insecurity.

"Of course I know you, silly," said Z, stroking a loop of hair behind Charlotte's ear straight, and hoping to say, I know you, I understand you, we are still us even when we are not friends, and we will never stay not friends. All the things she could not understand not being true, when it had seemed as if they were not. Damn, she had made her eyes prickle, and Charlotte was looking at her oddly. "I love you," she said, just as she had decided against it, that she didn't want to give away too much so soon.

"I love you," said Charlotte, looking at Z even more oddly. They surveyed each other suspiciously for a few moments before laughing and embracing.

Charlotte abruptly slithered backwards and landed between Z's legs with rather a thump. Z turned her head sharply to the side when Charlotte's mouth met the place that gave most pleasure. She felt herself frowning in concentration as Charlotte's tongue worked, felt herself trying to push closer still, somehow wanting more as the result of having everything she could. Finally the sensation had built as much as it could and unfolded outwards. She gasped and pushed Charlotte away as she became too sensitive. Charlotte looked proudly delighted and they both sat up to kiss again. Z pressed closer to Charlotte, liking to feel her breasts against her own, and crooked her fingers between Charlotte's thighs, not for the first time, or the first time tonight, but the first time for the purpose of invoking a response in Charlotte.

Charlotte gradually rose up, so Z was kissing first her mouth, then the hollow in her throat, then her breasts, her stomach and the hair between her legs. Charlotte spread her legs so Z could see between the lips, and Z held the lips open with her thumbs and darted her tongue into her cunt. She tried to both tantalise the area outside and give a thrusting sensation. Lying back down, she beckoned Charlotte. It seemed somehow odd for the marital reconciliation scene to involve the sitting on of faces, but Z was surprised how much she liked it. She felt a determination to give pleasure that reminded her more of the vindictive longing to do violence to someone one felt when in a towering rage than anything else. Only without the vindictive violence.

They lay together when they were done and, "I'm sorry how I was before," said Charlotte, almost like a child being grudgingly made to apologise, only she was making herself. "You know, partly it was all because I was afraid for a long time you and Tennessee would turn to each other and then there would be no room for me."

"Oh yes?" said Z, raising her eyebrows.

"Partly!" protested Charlotte, laughing. Z shifted so that Charlotte was lying next to her rather than on top, and rolled onto her side. Charlotte did likewise and they lay with their heads on the same pillow.

Z said, "I'd be telling the truth if I said I was horrible too, but I wasn't as horrible." Charlotte rolled her eyes. "So now ... do you think it can be you and me and Tennessee?"

"I hope it can – you, me and Tennessee," said Charlotte, the last in a sing-song tone.

"I suppose it all depends what Tenn wants."

Charlotte looked her in the eye and said quietly, "It'll still be you and me."

"Yes. I would still like that." Z paused and said, "What a pity we wasted all that time. We've missed all the fun points of being married. We'll have to get all we can out of the rest of it."

She went to sleep with her legs wrapped round Charlotte's, and felt quite at peace, in more ways than the merely weary.

*

It did seem an odd position to ask Tennessee to take on, on any permanent basis – no acknowledged home or partner of her own. It was not really the sort of thing that could be made clear to society. On the other hand, they always were a friendship of three and there was no question in Z's mind that they should be a three now.

They sent Tennessee a note asking her to come and see them that morning. Z and Charlotte sat on either side of her and each took one of her hands.

Tennessee began to smile. "Are you alright again? Are you?"

"We're two," said Z, and it was a comfort that she could be Z and Charlotte now, but she wanted Tennessee to be intimate, to be given the most she could give – to see her, to give and take pleasure from her. "And we'd like to be three."

"It was my idea first," said Tennessee, holding their hands tighter. She looked from one to the other. "I do want you, I do. I am sure I should not compromise myself, but I know I want to. We'll be three."

"You are certain?" asked Charlotte. "I daresay there won't be a scandal or anything, but I imagine people will think it's irregular at some point."

"Yes, yes, it was always going to be like this. I was always told I didn't think enough about what people would think so now I might as well really not care."

Z looked at Tennessee's fingers enlaced with hers, and at Charlotte and Tennessee's hands clasped together. She beamed with pleasure and kissed Tennessee heartily on the cheek.

It was not then but a few afternoons later that they went upstairs and locked the door. Z got to see what it was like to feel happiness that those she loved loved each other and it was part of their love for her when they showed it and they loved her and she loved them and they were a warm silver circle without a break and it would last intact and strong as long as they did because they were it ... Z was young and prone to romanticism but still, the circle was strong for the present.