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It was a wonderfully fine thing to have that lofty castle to myself, and to feel, when I shut my outer door, like Robinson Crusoe, when he had got into his fortification, and pulled his ladder up after him. It was a wonderfully fine thing to walk about town with the key of my house in my pocket, and to know that I could ask any fellow to come home, and make quite sure of its being inconvenient to nobody, if it were not so to me. All this, I say, was wonderfully fine; but I must say, too, that there were times when it was very dreary. The privacy bred a space for longing. For indiscernible dreams distorted with images of brown, wavy hair and long, slender fingers. I dreamt of my school days and long summer nights, often jolting awake to find myself alone and cold in my new lodgings.
It was fine in the morning, particularly in the fine mornings. It looked a very fresh, free life, by daylight: still fresher, and more free, by sunlight. But as the day declined, the life seemed to go down too. I don't know how it was; it seldom looked well by candle–light. I wanted somebody to talk to, then. I missed Agnes I thought at first, but really I missed him. I found a tremendous blank, in the place of that smiling repository of my confidence.
After two days and nights, I felt as if I had lived there for a year, and yet I was not an hour older, but was quite as much tormented by my own youthfulness as ever.
Steerforth not yet appearing, which induced me to apprehend that he must be ill, I left the Commons early on the third day, and walked out to Highgate. Mrs. Steerforth was very glad to see me, and said that he had gone away with one of his Oxford friends to see another who lived near St. Albans, but that she expected him to return tomorrow. I was so fond of him, that I felt quite jealous of his Oxford friends. An envy that immediately fixed a leaden weight in my abdomen. A crushing force that fought the burning energy my limbs produced at the mention of his name and thought of his company.
As she pressed me to stay to dinner, I remained, and I believe we talked about nothing but him all day. I told her how much the people liked him at Yarmouth, and what a delightful companion he had been. I omitted my own observations about his handsome countenance, his gentle grace and easy manor. The fluttering pulse of my heart when he looked at me or said my name in his voice that haunted my dreams. I lost myself in thoughts of our first meeting at school, our first touch and our most recent.
I was taking my coffee and roll in the morning, before going to the Commons—and I may observe in this place that it is surprising how much coffee Mrs. Crupp used, and how weak it was, considering—when Steerforth himself walked in, to my unbounded joy. The familiar smell of him met my nose as he brushed past me to sit, allowing me a moment to breathe in his rich, honeysuckle sweetness and warming amber fragrance. For a fleeting second I became dizzy, growing instantly intoxicated by his siege on my senses. His gaze flicked to mine as he smiled softly in greeting, illicitly a slow, punishing heat to rise in my cheeks.
'My dear Steerforth,' I cried, trying to recover, 'I began to think I should never see you again!’ The notion was maddening.
‘I was carried off, by force of arms,' said Steerforth, 'the very next morning after I got home. Why, Daisy, what a rare old bachelor you are here!’ The corners of my mouth lifted hearing the nickname he was so fond of slip so easily from his lips.
I showed him over the establishment, not omitting the pantry, with no little pride, and he commended it highly. 'I tell you what, old boy,' he added, 'I shall make quite a town–house of this place, unless you give me notice to quit.’
This was a delightful hearing. I told him if he waited for that, he would have to wait till doomsday. I wanted to tell him he could do anything to this place. He could do anything to me.
‘But you shall have some breakfast!' said I in an attempt to hide my desire, with my hand on the bell–rope,' and Mrs. Crupp shall make you some fresh coffee, and I'll toast you some bacon in a bachelor's Dutch–oven, that I have got here.’
'No, no!' said Steerforth. 'Don't ring! I can't! I am going to breakfast with one of these fellows who is at the Piazza Hotel, in Covent Garden.’
'But you'll come back to dinner?' said I trying to hide the desperate edge to my voice as a quick panic rose at the idea of him leaving. My body hummed with excitement over seeing him after so long, I did not want him to leave so quickly.
'I can't, upon my life. There's nothing I should like better, but I must remain with these two fellows. We are all three off together tomorrow morning.’
'Then bring them here to dinner,' I returned in distress. 'Do you think they would come?’
'Oh! they would come fast enough,' said Steerforth; 'but we should inconvenience you. You had better come and dine with us somewhere.’
I would not by any means consent to this, for it occurred to me that I really ought to have a little house–warming, and that there never could be a better opportunity. I revelled in having Steerforth in my space. I had a new pride in my rooms after his approval of them, and burned with a desire to develop their utmost resources. I burned further for his attention and I delighted in the thought of being with him for the night, even with the intrusion of his Oxford companions. I therefore made him promise positively in the names of his two friends, and we appointed six o'clock as the dinner–hour.
When I came home that afternoon after completing my preparations I set the table and waited for his return. A skittishness had nestled its way into my body, forcing my shoulders into a tense hunch that set me on edge. My mind was alight with questions after many sleepless nights thinking about Steerforth and his affect on me. We had always been close- from the very genesis of your dear friendship- so it was only natural for me to feel his absence so intensely. We had nurtured a close bond but it had become newly apparent to me however, that I was softening the defined borders of our relation. It made me apprehensive for the evening and resentful of the conditions of the night.
One of Steerforth's friends was named Grainger, and the other Markham. They were both very gay and lively fellows; Grainger, something older than Steerforth; Markham, youthful–looking, and I should say not more than twenty. I observed that the latter always spoke of himself indefinitely, as 'a man', and seldom or never in the first person singular. They were both agreeable but I could not rid myself of an uneasiness that seemed to intensify every time Steerforth said their names or grew amused at their pleasantries. I discerned that my deepening scowl must have been noticeable as I registered Steerforth’s questioning gaze. A small crease formed between his brow as his inquisitive gaze surveyed my face, examining my discomfort. Any thoughts of envy washed away as I imagined smoothing away his frown with my thumb. I was not sure if my desire was plain to see as Steerforth smiled happily once more, and shifted his focus back onto dinner conversation, satisfied with my countenance.
‘A man might get on very well here, Mr. Copperfield,' said Markham—meaning himself— which pulled me out of my trance. I cleared my throat, smiling at Steerforth, reassuring him- and myself- that I was going to behave.
'It's not a bad situation,' said I, 'and the rooms are really commodious.’
'I hope you have both brought appetites with you?' said Steerforth, pushing the past moment’s tension away in favour brotherly conversation.
‘Upon my honour,' returned Markham, 'town seems to sharpen a man's appetite. A man is hungry all day long. A man is perpetually eating.’
Being a little embarrassed at first, and feeling much too young to preside, I made Steerforth take the head of the table when dinner was announced, and seated myself opposite to him. It was more of a selfish allowance to admire him without agonising over how clear I was being in my observation. I gazed fondly upon his open expression and animated gestures, wondering what the warming sensation growing in my chest signified. I drove me to drink further, pushing complicated thoughts out of mind in favour of a drunken haziness that helped my forget my troubling situation.
Everything was very good; we did not spare the wine. I was not quite such good company during dinner as I could have wished to be, for my chair was opposite the door, and my attention was often distracted by Steerforth’s mouth meeting the edge of his wine glass.
I began, by being singularly cheerful and light–hearted; all sorts of half–forgotten things to talk about, came rushing into my mind, and made me hold forth in a most unwonted manner. I laughed heartily at my own jokes, and everybody else's; called Steerforth to order for not passing the wine; made several engagements to go to Oxford; announced that I meant to have a dinner–party exactly like that, once a week, until further notice.
I went on, by passing the wine faster and faster yet, and continually starting up with a corkscrew to open more wine, long before any was needed. Perhaps encouraged by a drunken courage, I proposed Steerforth's health. I said he was my dearest friend, the protector of my boyhood, and the companion of my prime. I said I was delighted to propose his health. I said I owed him more obligations than I could ever repay, and held him in a higher admiration than I could ever express. I finished by saying, 'I'll give you Steerforth! God bless him! Hurrah!' We gave him three times three, and another, and a good one to finish with. I broke my glass in going round the table to shake hands with him, and I said (in two words) ‘Steerforth—you'retheguidingstarofmyexistence.'
Steerforth was laughing at me, amused by my fall into tipsy slobbery. Steerforth had made a speech about me, in the course of which I had been affected almost to tears. I returned thanks, and hoped the present company would dine with me tomorrow, even though I really wished it was only Steerforth that returned.
Somebody said to me, 'Let us go to the theatre, Copperfield!' The theatre? I considered it for a long moment, confessing it would be a satisfying end to a mystifying night.
‘Not tonight, my good friends. I have had far too much drink,’ I decided. I needed to regain sobriety and have a long night sleep to shake off tonight’s happenings.
‘If that is your wish,’ said Markham after finishing the last of his wine and yawning.
‘We best be off then, Copperfield,’ announced Grainger, as he slapped his knees and pushed to stand, ‘I quite fancy a good show right now. What do you say fellows?’
‘Come with us, Steerforth!’
‘I am flattered but I will have to refrain tonight, boys. I will see you next week at at the boat race?’ replied Steerforth, waving them off with a friendly dismissal. My heart rate kicked up slightly at his refusal, beginning to sober me already.
Markham and Grainger bid their farewell to me and Steerforth as they ventured out into the foggy night.
‘Mind if I stay for a nightcap, dear Daisy?’ Steerforth asked as made his way into the living area to a seat in front of the hearth. My mind started racing with questions. Why did he not go with them? Did he want to be alone with me or was that just my fantasies clouding my thoughts? Did this mean nothing to him or everything like it did to me?
'You are all right, Copperfield, are you not?' he called and I told him, ‘Never better,’ as I made my way to sit opposite him. We chatted idly for a while, sharing news of happenings irrelevant to the gentleman we just dined with. He nursed his drink whilst I returned to clear-headedness with some water. As the clock approached midnight my staff retired for the night. That left me and Steerforth. Together. Alone.
I gazed over at Steerforth, noting a healthy glow in his alcohol warmed cheeks and a content look on his face. He noted me noting him and the corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. He chuckled softly before sighing and returning his empty glass to the bar cart.
‘Daisy.’ He said. My gaze snapped to his.
‘Do you mind if I stay for the night? My rooms are all the way across town and I have boarders in. I can call my carriage but it’s a cold night and-’
‘Yes!’ I said, cutting him off. ‘Yes,’ I repeated, this time more softly, hoping to mask my excitement with a casual acceptance. ‘I will make up a bed for you in the guest quarters.’
‘Thank you, my dear friend.’ The word friend cut through my giddiness, reminding me of the situation and front I wanted to uphold. ‘I hope it is not too much of a burden for you to put up your oldest school friend!’
‘No burden at all,’ I replied as I made my way upstairs to prepare for the night since my staff had gone.
After finishing up and making my way out of the guest room I was surprised to see Steerforth at the top of the stairs standing still as if he was waiting for something. Or someone.
‘You can use this room and it’s adjoining bathroom. My room is this one opposite,’ I said gesturing to my door.
‘Do not hesitate to call if you need anything, Steerforth!’ I said cheerfully, attempting to cut through the awkwardness and reach the end of a long, tiresome evening. ‘Thank you, Daisy,’ Steerforth said, moving towards his door as I reached my own. Something compelled me to look back at him before entering and I stopped in my tracks. He was looking at me with an odd intensity in his eye that I didn’t recognise, one that drove me to stay silent. He cleared his throat but did not say anything. Very slowly, he took one step forward. I froze. What was he doing? I hesitated with my hand on my doorknob. My heart rate increased as another step brought him even closer. He was one step away from me now.
I straightened, aligning my back to be flush against the door so that I was facing him straight on.
‘Steerforth, what are you-’ He cut me off with a lift of his hand. He took another step. The tips of his shoes nudged against my own and the sweet smell of his clothes and skin filled the air between us. If I wasn’t so confused by his movements my knees would have probably given out from the sudden thrill of being this close to him. I couldn’t look away from his burning eyes, sending a scarlet blush creeping my neck, across my jaw and up to the tops of my cheeks. My lips parted in question and I noticed Steerforth’s gaze dart to them swiftly. Leaving his face open for my observation, I saw then too that his cheeks were dusted with a rosy pink.
I realised he was not saying anything, only staring and moving closer. I was growing anxious as he made no move to speak.
‘Please, tell me what is going on? Steerforth, is something the matter?’
‘I-’ He let out in a hushed tone, staring now at our feet just about touching. His deep, quiet voice sent an instant bolt of electricity from the top of my head down my body, pooling at the base of my spine. ‘David, I-’ he managed thickly, dragging his eyes back to meet mine. My breath hitched then, forcing me to let out a quiet gasp. Steerforth’s throat bobbed. He leaned in further and my heart felt as if it was about to leap out of my chest and land at our feet! Being a little taller than me, to meet Steerforth’s eye I leaned back, finding my head meeting the door behind me. To my amazement- and panicked confusion- he slowly pushed his body against mine as he used one arm braced against the door frame beside my head to steady himself.
I felt the warmth of his body even through our many layers of clothing and I almost grew dizzy at the euphoric sensation. My breath was coming quick and shallow now, matching Steerforth’s audible exhales that took on a shaky quality as we stared at each other. A fire roared inside me but my body tensed with caution.
Slowly, Steerforth moved his idle hand, bringing it up to my hairline to softly touch a loose strand of hair lying on my forehead. He checked my face for a reaction. Whatever he saw there was clearly encouragement enough to continue because he began to delicately caress my hair. I leaned into his touch, closing my eyes, finding it hard to resist the warmth of his palm. I looked at him then and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
His fingers travelled leisurely down my face where they found my jaw and began tracing it’s edge. Finding his softness almost impossible to bare, I bit down on my bottom lip to stop any reaction from slipping out and scaring him away. Steerforth, to my surprise and utmost satisfaction, touched two fingers to my mouth and released my bottom lip from it’s hold. Someone made a noise of pleasure but I could hardly register who it was as the thumping of my heart grew to a deafening volume in my ears and my body continued to burn with a searing heat.
‘Steerforth,’ I said involuntary.
‘James. Call me James, Daisy,’ he replied, looking at me through half closed lids.
‘James,’ I returned, nodding eagerly. Fingers still on my mouth, he leaned closer and pushed into me further, aligning our hips and eliciting a grasp to escape my lips. My hand flew to his arm braced against the door to steady myself. He drew his fingers across my jaw and down my neck, letting his mouth follow as he leaned in and let his lips meet my flushed skin. With a punishing slowness he dragged his soft lips against my jaw and the side of my neck. My grip on his arm was almost vice like now, as I struggled to keep still. He kissed me on the tender spot just underneath my ear, sending a spark of heat through my body. His teeth nipped at me gently and I nearly fell to the floor. I brought my free arm up and onto his shoulder, seeming to please James he made a deep noise against my throat. He continued a pattern of soft kisses and sharp bites down my neck, pressing his body even harder into me as my breathing became desperate. My fingers slid up to his hair, finding themselves winding into his messy curls. I could hardly think as his arm snaked around my waist and found the small of my back. James curled his fingers into the fabric of my waistcoat. He made a frustrated noise as his mouth met the edge of my collar where my skin disappeared and fabric replaced it.
He drew back and met my eye. We stared for a moment, seeming to contemplate each other. For a brief second, I let my wildest desires consume me. My hands twitched with the urge to push him through the door behind him and onto the bed.
‘Daisy. You know how much I care for you,’ he said to my complete astonishment.
‘Steer- James. I-’ He cut off my speech by bringing his lips a hair breadths away from mine. His close gaze took on a lustful glint as his hand worked its way further down my back.
‘You haunt me, David,’ he said against my mouth. My heartbeat ceased for a moment and the only thing I could focus on were those four words sending me off my axis. James tightened his grip on me before abruptly pushing off the door with one hand and removing his body from mine. Cold air sent a shiver down my spine as it settled over me in the wake of his warm body pressed to mine. James bit his lip before scanning up and down my panting form. He turned then and walked the three paces to his door. Stunned and craving his touch with a new intensity I thought impossible, I was too slow to react as he opened his door and stepped inside. He turned back for one last look, a wicked grin painting his face with a youthful joy, before closing the door with a soft click.
I collapsed against my own door, slumping without James’ hands to keep me steady. Did I just dream that?
Oh, what an evening!