Author’s Note: This story was written years ago, shortly after I joined a fantasy group where we would pretend to the guest of Sheriff George at Nottingham Castle, enjoying the company of all of Alan Rickman's wonderful characters/roles he has played throughout the years. So, there’s not much point to this, but it is nice to share it with people who are Rickmaniacs like myself.

ONE NIGHT IN NOTTINGHAM

George, Sheriff of Nottingham was in a foul mood. Now, many of the maidens might be under the impression that this was the normal state of affairs, other than the brief time periods between his incredibly frequent sexual arousals and satiations. But he himself would have argued the point.

As much as he hated to admit it, it had been a wise decision to grant the lead maiden's request to invite more damsels into his sanctuary. Not that he would ever deny himself the chance to acquaint himself with a fresh face and willing body, of course. But that damned, conniving female had added the stipulation that he would have to allow other “characters” (as she had phrased it) into Nottingham to ensure that the maidens would be able to disport themselves when not enjoying his personal attention. That idea was frankly appalling to him. Since when was he not man and lord enough to keep dozens of ladies content at the mere prospect of being at his beck and call whenever the whim might move him?

But, she had dug her heels in firmly and refused to be budged. And, she had even dared to threaten that she was weary of taking on the entire responsibility of the castle and all the “little Nottinghams” running about it. If he refused to bring in more women to help her shoulder the burdens, she had hinted, she might seriously think of leaving altogether.

The thought that she was seriously threatening to abandon him had chilled him to the bone. He relied on her sound judgment, impeccable organization, and gracious personality more than he would ever admit. Not to mention the exquisite pleasure she provided him in the bedchamber. He had, of course, covered his anxiety with his usual gruff manner and caustic words. By the time she had finished listing all her conditions, he had merely grunted and drawled, “Since your abilities are so inadequate to the tasks I require of you, I suppose you must seek out additional help.”

“And the gentlemen I wish to invite?” she questioned, her eyebrows raised. “I assure you the ladies are not going to come of their own free will unless I can guarantee that they may occasionally have their own choice of company” she continued.

He glowered at her, with arms angrily perched upon his hips. That stipulation was one that he definitely did not wish to grant.

But, he had no doubt, as he stood watching her glaring at him with her own arms angrily crossed in front of her, that this was not a negotiable proviso. He sighed, pursed his lips and stared thoughtfully at the ceiling for a moment. He returned his gaze to her face and studied the beautiful features, unable to blind himself to the fact that those magnificent eyes looked very tired underneath the anger that currently blazed within them. Her health, so fragile of late, worried him and a small, nagging voice inside of himself urged him to relent upon this point also.

“Very well,” he added testily. “I suppose I will allow a few to enter into my realm”

There was an immediate relaxation of the tenseness that had hardened her features and her frame, and the remnants of a smile returned to both her eyes and her mouth. She nodded, and replied: “Thank you, my good lord. I shall see to all the details.” (Adding, to herself, “as usual.”) She turned to leave.

“Mind you, I’ll expect them to earn their keep by being of use to me also!” he shouted at her retreating back.

She turned to face him, a mischievous smile upon her lips now. “Milord, I am sure you will find them quite an intelligent and resourceful group. In fact, you may find that you have more in common with them than you can possibly imagine.”

“I warn you, if they displease me in any way I will-”

“Cut their hearts out with a spoon, yes I know,” she muttered as she hurried out of the room.

Well, he couldn’t deny that some of them were in possession of formidable talents that had proved infinitely useful to him. Ed, for instance, had ingeniously managed to bring a surprising amount of useful implements with him, and the maidens were quite delighted by his ability to provide them with the strange and unusual “computer” contraptions that they apparently required. And Herr Gruber was proving to be a much more resourceful and intelligent aide-de-camp than his incompetent cousin, Sir Guy, had ever been. As for that wizard-even he had to admit that Snape was infinitely more adept at the black arts than Mortianna could ever have dreamed of. All in all, he would have been quite happy with the current state of affairs, if only the maidens hadn’t found them the newcomers so intriguing also.

He frowned, his black brows knitting furiously together as he stared into the flames. Perhaps, in retrospect, he had been too lenient. Every time he turned around there was another “character” at the doorstep, and always at the request of one of the newly arrived maidens.

Just this morning a fresh crop of beauties had appeared, with some of them admittedly quite upset at their unexpected appearance in his dominion. The gentle mistress of his fortress had earnestly explained to the befuddled females that unfortunately Professor Snape had misunderstood her request: she had merely intended to send them an invitation to join her, not apparate them “en masse” against their will, and that any who wished to leave could do so. While a few of them had demanded and been immediately granted return to their former existence, the vast majority of them had seemed pleased with their new surroundings. In fact, some of them were actually beaming when they learned of how their presence would be rewarded.

The next thing he knew, they were scattered about the property, ignoring her pleas to wait until she had prepared their rooms and properly introduced them to one another. One had run off with Colonel Brandon to have a picnic, another was dancing a tango in the hallway, and it seemed like a virtual mob had descended upon Snape’s chambers in the dungeons, demanding his immediate attention.

“Damn him!” he swore to himself. He wished that he did not find that clever wizard so useful, for he found it galling that so many of the maidens seemed to swoon at the very sight of him. He personally failed to see what the attraction could be. Well, he admitted grudgingly to himself, the man did possess admirable coloring, a commendable clothes sense and a remarkably fine nose. But, on the other hand, his face was as clean-shaven as a baby’s behind, and what respectable wench wouldn’t prefer a man with a fine beard such as he himself possessed? And, as for that hair of his-! He snorted and ran his hand absentmindedly through his own raven-colored mane of shining curls. He had been tempted to ask that barber fellow, Phil, if he couldn’t diplomatically convince the good Professor to let him do something about that oily mop. Of course, he mused, good grooming didn’t seem to be a prerequisite for some of the ladies. That unkempt rascal Rasputin was also gathering a sizable following.

All in all, it had not been a satisfactory day. Although he had managed to “pay his respects” to a good number of the new maidens, they were proving to be an unruly bunch. His dear lady had worn herself to a frazzle trying to welcome and accommodate them all, and had fallen exhausted (and alone) into her own bed. So here he sat, quite unaccompanied and very discontented. All of the maidens appeared to have made their own “arrangements” for tonight. And, to his fury, it appeared that neither the 10:30 nor 10:45 wenches were keeping their appointment this evening. They’d pay for that, he vowed, drumming his fingers impatiently against the arms of his chair. Starting tomorrow, some of those gentlemen were going to find themselves on their behinds and out of the castle faster than you could say “Yippee-kiyo, Mother-!”

A rapid knocking on the door interrupted his thoughts. Well, perhaps one of my little damsels has come to her senses and is seeking my attention, he thought. A pleased smile came to his lips as he quickly smoothed his beard with his fingers and straightened his tunic. “Come in”, he ordered.

The door opened, and to his disappointment the dark, oafish face of Richard peered through the crack. He, along with that imbecile Locksley and the annoyingly insolent Mr. John McClane, was one of the “other” coterie of gentlemen that provided entertainment of a different sort for the maidens. A number of the ladies seemed quite pleased when (every week or so) Hans threw Mr. McClane off the highest parapet of the North tower, and it seemed all Locksley had to do was open his mouth and speak in that ridiculous accent in order to throw the whole group into hysterics. He was not quite sure why, but he suspected that Sinclair Bryant had arranged for Richard’s transportation to Nottingham. At any rate, it seemed a day didn’t go by without at least one of the maidens making a point of giving Sinclair a passionate kiss in front of him, after which they would ask Richard how his sister was doing.

“Begging your pardon, sir”, began Richard.

“Well, what is it?” he asked peevishly.

“There’s someone here to see you, my lord.”

The Sheriff frowned, and inquired with a hint of sarcasm in his tone, “And since when do you find it necessary to announce the arrival of one of my wenches?”

“Ah, it’s not one of the Nottingham maidens, sir.”

“Oh”, he muttered unhappily and rolled his eyes. So it was one of the gentlemen seeking an audience was it? Probably “The Interrogator” to complain that someone had hidden his little black bag again. Or perhaps it was that Jamie fellow, protesting for the hundredth time that his room was still too cold. It better not be Sinclair, he thought, bursting in on him again to tell him some excruciatingly boring detail that he had just remembered regarding the code of chivalry for the Middle Ages. He swore, the next time he came to him babbling about some “interesting” fact, he was going to acquaint Mr. Bryant with an unanticipated application for medieval tableware. “So, which one of the men wishes to see me?” he grumbled.

“Well, sir, it’s not a man either” replied his servant uncertainly.

The Sheriff looked perplexed. ‘Well, unless Professor Snape has enchanted the horses into speaking, I fail to see who else could be requesting an audience?”

“You see, Sir, it is a lady, but not one of yours”, Richard stammered. It’s a…”

“A what?” he questioned, irritably.

Richard hesitated, furtively glanced about the room, and replied, in a low voice “It’s a female character, my lord.”

George sucked in his breath, “Ah, I see”, he replied. No wonder Richard was being so secretive. The one thing that the maidens had unanimously declared was that NO female characters were to be allowed anywhere on the Nottingham grounds. Of course, Frau Mesmer had the audacity to show up every now and then (despite the fact that she always ended up being tossed out of the castle and into a mud puddle by a group of disgruntled wenches.) But, she was the only one who had ever dared come near the place. Which was quite understandable, as he had overheard what some of the maidens said they would do to that “stupid git, Natalie” or “ungrateful bitch, Nina” if either dared to show her face at the castle.

“How did she get in?” he asked.

Richard shrugged. “Apparently she’s been watching the place for some time, and it looked like everyone was, uh, occupied this evening, your grace. She outside, wrapped in a cloak,” he continued, gesturing towards the hallway.

He hesitated for a moment, considering. Definitely wasn’t Frau Mesmer, he thought. She would have barged in herself, screaming at the top of her lungs. “Did she give a name?” he queried.

“Yes, Sir, she says her name is…” the dull man hesitated for a moment, furrowing his brow as he attempted to retrieve the information. “Oh, yes”, he added, relieved, “I believe she said it was Mary Ann.”

The Sheriff started visibly. “Mary Ann?” he repeated, uncertainly.

Richard nodded.

He obviously had misheard her, he thought. It had to be Marion, he was sure of it. He chuckled for a moment. That woman certainly had the pluck, courage and brains to get into a guarded castle if she wanted. He wondered if she had finally come to her senses and was going to beg his forgiveness for having preferred that dolt, Locksley, to himself. If not, he considered, she might have come to fling herself on his mercy and beg him to release her beloved “Robin” from his current bondage. Of course, he had no intention of doing that. But, he mused, there was no need to tell her that right away. He smiled happily and wondered just what she was willing to offer in return. The night might not be a total waste after all.

“By all means, show her in.”

“Yes, sir.” Richard bowed and disappeared into the corridor.

The Sheriff rose to his feet and stood facing the door. He gripped his right hand loosely around the handle of his sword and with difficulty stilled the perpetually twitchy fingers of his left hand into immobility. A moment later Richard led a small figure, wrapped from head to toe in a heavy shawl, into the room.

The Sheriff scrutinized her carefully, but her features remained discreetly hidden underneath her robe. “How nice of you to visit me, my dear”, he said. He bowed formally, and the figure extended her right hand out toward him. He cradled it gently in his hand for a moment and then raised it to his lips. Her hand was soft and warm, and he noted with interest and amusement that she showed no aversion to the touch of either his fingers or his mouth upon it.

To his annoyance, he realized Richard was still hanging about the doorway, watching his every move with great interest. “You may return to your other duties, Richard”, he growled.

The man hurriedly removed himself from the room, slamming the door behind him. The Sheriff turned again to the figure and inquired, “Surely, you no longer require that heavy garment around you, my lady?”

Her response was a gay, girlish laugh, and a moment later she had thrown the robe unto the floor. To his great surprise, he saw that it was not the sedate and brunette Marion after all, but a young lady with blond hair and a decidedly exuberant manner. Her clothing was unexpectedly strange also. She wore neither the medieval gowns or the decidedly modern garments favored by so many of the new maidens. Instead, she wore a quite highwaisted dress that fit snugly across her bosom and then fell in a nearly straight line to the floor. The sleeves were short and round, fitting tightly against her upper arms. A few pieces of strategically placed gauze attempted to bring a bit of modesty to the exceedingly low cut of the garment, but George was quite happy with the plentiful view of her bosom nonetheless. Her hair was set in a mass of tightly wound curls, with bits of ribbon playfully wound around it. He wondered if it had taken her hours to arrange her hair in such carefully planned disarray. She smiled merrily at him, and was clasping her hands in front of her as if hardly able to contain her excitement.

“Are you surprised, my lord?” she asked breathlessly.

“Quite, my dear. May I introduce myself? I am…”

“George, Sheriff of Nottingham!” she blurted out.

“Yes”, he replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m afraid you have me at an advantage, Miss-?”

“Br…, uh, I mean Dashwood. Marianne Dashwood.”

“Ah.” He had heard that name before, somewhere in the castle, but could not for the moment place it. “And what brings you to my home, Miss Dashwood?”

“Oh, you must forgive me for intruding upon you this way, my dear Sheriff.” At this, she placed her hand playfully upon his own and batted her eyes flirtatiously. “But then, I have never been one to be unduly restrained by silly society rules.” Now her eyes were eagerly glancing around his room, and she smiled mischievously at him. “Please, excuse me. But, I’ve been so bored and lonely lately!”

He laughed softly. “Come now, a beautiful lady such as yourself must have a league of suitors clamoring for your attention” he chided gently. He gestured for her to take a seat, in the meantime allowing his eyes to saunter lazily over the thin fabric of her dress. It would be interesting to explore what sort of undergarments she was wearing, he thought. He was feeling fairly confident that it wouldn’t be long before his curiosity would be satisfied. With an effort, he lifted his eyes back to her face and returned his attention to what she was saying.

“Oh, they are so very strict at Devonshire, and they never will allow me to go to London and have fun by myself”, she pouted.

He nodded sympathetically.

“And after Christo…”, she hesitated for a moment, flushing hotly. He looked at her inquiringly. In a moment, she recovered herself and continued. “I mean, it’s really been dull lately, and they never allow new characters in.”

He patted her arm with his left hand and clucked his tongue in commiseration.

“And I was out for a walk one day, and heard all this laughing and partying going on in Nottingham, and I thought, well it just isn’t fair.” Now her lips were trembling and they were tears shining in her eyes. “Oh, please, dear Sheriff, you will allow me to stay for a little while, won’t you?” She turned her face up towards his.

His eyes glinted as he perused her face. Definitely she was ripe for the taking. He was willing to bet that within fifteen minutes she’d be undressed and underneath him. If he bothered to undress her, of course.

He sighed dramatically and shook his head. “Alas, my dear, it really is against the rules for me to allow you to stay.”

She brought her face closer to his. “You couldn’t make an exception, just this one time?”

“Well, perhaps, just this one time”, he answered slowly. He brought his right hand gently up the bodice of her gown, allowing his fingers to barely graze the skin of her bosom.

“Oh, I’d be so grateful”, she sighed, closing her eyes.

“Indeed?” He smiled as he brought his lips down to slightly brush against her forehead. “And just how would you repay me, Miss Dashwood?” he teased.

“Oh!” she exclaimed excitedly, her eyes flying open. In a moment she had sprung to her feet. “I know, I’ll play the pianoforte for you!” she cried.

“The what?” he inquired crossly. Damn it, a few more minutes work and he’d have had her on the floor with her legs spread. Now she was dancing around on her feet in the middle of the room, looking annoyingly enthusiastic.

“Oh, yes, wrong period. Let’s see…harpsichord?”

He shook his head dully.

“Clavichord?”

He gazed at her blankly. “Are you speaking English?” he asked in exasperation.

“Oh, dear, what do you call it in this era?” she pondered. In a moment her expression cleared. “Oh, of course,” she continued, “I’m offering to play the virginals for you?”

He glared at her for a moment, and then his face reddened as he rose to his feet. “I assure you, Madam”, he bellowed, “that if there are any virgins in this castle that I will be the one playing with them!”

Any further conversation between them was interrupted by the loud bang of the door as it burst open. To his surprise, the Sheriff turned to see another lady, similarly clothed as Marianne standing in the doorway. She looked slightly older perhaps, and her light brown hair was styled in a much more sedate and practical manner, but she had a certain beauty of her own and her eyes shown with a remarkable intelligence.

“Marianne!” she exclaimed. “Dearest, whatever do you think you are doing?”

“Elinor, how dare you follow me here?” Marianne cried.

“All right, what the devil is going on?” thundered the Sheriff. “And who are you?” he inquired of the newcomer.

She took a moment to drop him a fine curtsy. “I am Elinor Dashwood Ferrars, and I have come to take my little sister home”, she added fiercely turning her gaze upon the blond woman.

“How did you get past my guard?” he asked.

“Oh, she probably started talking to him and bored him to death”, taunted Marianne.

“I did not.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you flirted with him like I did?” laughed the younger sister. “ I had to kiss that ugly lout twice before he let me by.”

“Is that how you got in?” the Sheriff asked, quite displeased. Richard was going to regret that.

“Of course not. When he tried to get fresh, I banged him over the head with one of the iron candle holders.”

He smiled at her. “I admire your spirit, Miss Ferrars.”

She shook her head crossly and corrected him: “It is Mrs. Ferrars, and for your information, the lady who has intruded upon you this evening is none other than Mrs. Christopher Brandon.”

He looked at Marianne in surprise. “You are Colonel Brandon’s wife?”

She sighed in exasperation. “Oh, very well, yes I am. Not that it matters much. He seemed quite happy to leave me behind to play with all these little trollops here in the castle.”

“Well, you never did appreciate him”, Elinor scolded. “And, you barely had the ring on your finger before you were flirting with Willoughby again.”

“Oh, well, let’s talk about your brilliant marriage shall we?” retorted Marianne. “Happy to settle down with dull, stuttering, stammering shy little Edward were you? Thought you were getting a brilliant man, eh? Finally figured out that he hardly ever said anything because he hardly ever had anything worth saying. And you can’t fool me anymore. I think you always wanted Christopher for yourself. Why didn’t you and he get married?”

“Believe me, I’ve asked Miss Austen that a number of times, and never did get a satisfactory answer”, responded Elinor angrily. “Anyway, what’s done is done, and since we’re not allowed to stay here I suggest we get back to Devonshire immediately. Mama and Margaret are quite upset, and Fanny is busy spreading the most horrible rumors about us.”

“I won’t go!” cried Marianne. “I’m tired of living such a boring, stultifying nineteenth century existence. I want to have fun!”

“Oh, stop being so silly and childish!’ chided Elinor.

In a moment, both women were screaming at the top of their lungs, the shrill voices bouncing and echoing off the high ceiling of the chamber. George stuck his fingers in his ears and bellowed over the din:
“Ladies, LADIES!” They looked at him startled. “If I might make a suggestion?” he offered. “Thank you.”

He turned to Marianne. “It seems, my dear, that you are one of those delightfully fickle young ladies who requires a constant stream of attention from a number of gentlemen in order to feel truly alive, am I right?"

Blushing, she nodded her head.

“As for you, Mrs. Ferrars, it appears that while intellectual stimulation is an important consideration for you, your husband appears to be rather deficient in another essential area of, shall we say, providing husbandly satisfaction?"

Elinor regarded him thoughtfully.

“Therefore, I would suggest that both of you stay here as my guests for awhile. I’m sure you would find a number of the gentlemen who you may find more agreeable. Let’s see, you seem to have a, shall we say, ‘flair’ for the dramatic, Marianne. I am sure that Mr. O’Hara would be more than happy to take you under his wing for awhile. Though, I suppose that with your romanticism that you might find a dark, gothic type such as Grigori Rasputin or Professor Snape intriguing as well.”

“Oh!” she murmured.

“As for you, Elinor, might I suggest that here, away from the prying eyes of the neighbors and the iron-clad edicts of Miss Austen, you and the Colonel would have a chance to become better acquainted?”

Elinor flicked a quick glance at her sister.

“Oh, really, Elinor, go ahead. I won’t stop you”, assured Marianne.

“And if it’s intellectual companionship you crave, I am sure that either Sinclair Bryant or Metatron would be a stimulating partner.”

“Well,” Elinor wavered uncertainly for a moment.

“Oh, Elinor, dearest sister, please?”

“Perhaps we could stay here for just a little while,” she conceded.

“Excellent, my dear lady. Of course, you will be able to leave at any time. There will be, however, two provisions, I’m afraid”, George continued smoothly.

The two women regarded him with suspicion.

“First of all, your presence here must be a strictly guarded secret from the maidens. I must confess that a number of them have spoken unkindly of you, my dear”, he admitted to Marianne. “And although I have heard you spoken of with great admiration”, he continued, addressing Elinor, “I am afraid that it is against the law for you to be here. However, as Sheriff, I do have the authority to bend the rules, when it so pleases me. May I count on your discretion?”

Both of the women nodded their head in agreement.

“And what is the second provision, my lord?” questioned Elinor.

He smiled. “Well, you see, dear sisters, that the time is 10:45. And as it appears the two ladies who were to meet with me tonight have been unavoidably detained, I was wondering if you would care to take their place…”