When Boundaries Start to Blur — Far from the Madding Crowd

The Weatherbury bees swarm late and unruly, settling high in a costard tree the day after Troy's hay-mead conquest. With every hand in the hayfield, Bathsheba climbs in leather gloves, veil, and straw hat to hive them herself when no one else is free. Troy appears at the garden gate, takes over the dangerous work, and must wear her hat tied under his chin, her veil, and her gloves while she watches, laughing despite herself. The comic cross-dressing removes another stake from the palisade of cold manners between them. After the swarm is housed he complains the hive makes his arm ache worse than sword-exercise, and Bathsheba admits she has never seen the performance soldiers talk about in Casterbridge. Troy murmurs a plan for a private demonstration in the hollow amid the ferns at eight that evening; she refuses, weakens, asks whether she may bring Liddy, and yields when he shows coldness at the suggestion. Hardy marks each domestic task Troy invades as prelude to spectacle. Bathsheba consents to meet him there for a very short time, and boundaries blur under useful labour, shared risk, and laughter that still feels like permission to want far more than she will admit.