Domesticity


I don't own anything - everything belongs to the brilliant Dorothy L. Sayers.


It's at times like these, comfortingly domestic scenes, that she can't believe she resisted him for so long. She had tried domestication with Philip and it while it was lovely to begin with it is nothing compared to the joy she feels sitting with Peter in the parlour of Talboys, drinking tea.

She's never believed herself to enjoy the routine life but there's a lot to be said for stability, comfort – love.

And she does love him, though it took so long for her to admit it. She loves him with all her heart and soul.

His dear, dear face – not handsome by most women's standards, but the dearest face in the world for her. His intellect – the intellect that had brought them together in the first place. His love of driving fast along the narrow country roads. His passion for solving crimes.

She loves him – everything about him.

"What are you thinking?" he asks her.

"I'm thinking about how much I love you," she says, and he smiles.

"That's what I was thinking, too," he says, and raises her hand to his lips. She smiles at him and they turn back to their tea, basking in the comfort of each other's company.