Fic: Love Letters (Chap 1: Bullets & Bridge)
Title: Love Letters
Author: NoCleverSig
Chapter: 1, Bullets and Bridge
Summary: James Watson has been courting Helen Magnus for weeks, bit it will take a country weekend, a rakish Lord, and a heated arguement to move their relationship forward. (No.2 in "The Courtship of Helen Magnus" but stands alone)
Rating: Teen (for now)
Pairing: Helen/James
Spoilers: None
Notes: This is the second in "The Courtship of Helen Magnus" series following "Tango," but you don't have to read that first to enjoy. This is set ca. 1910ish. This particular story is an homage to those ever so fun to read regency novels! It's teen for now, but don't worry, angst and sex will surely follow and force it into the adult zone quite quickly ;). BTW, I don't own anything of Sanctuary or its characters, I simply play with them. Thank you, as always, to MajorSam for being the best beta ever. :) Please read and REVIEW...so appreciated! Peace-NCS
Love Letters
(Copyright 2011, NoCleverSig)
Author's Note: This is the second in "The Courtship of Helen Magnus" series following "Tango," but you don't have to read that first to enjoy. This is set ca. 1910ish. This particular story is an homage to those ever so fun to read regency novels! It's teen for now, but don't worry, angst and sex will surely follow and force it into the adult zone quite quickly ;). BTW, I don't own anything of Sanctuary or its characters, I simply play with them. Thank you, as always, to MajorSam for being the best beta ever. :) Please read and REVIEW...so appreciated! Peace-NCS
Chapter 1: Bullets and Bridge
James Watson was the perfect gentleman, a fact that frustrated Helen Magnus to no end.
For the past five weeks Watson and she had been officially "courting." They attended the theatre, ate dinner at the Savoy, strolled along the Serpentine, picnicked in the park, dined with friends, and visited museums. For other couples this new togetherness might have been a novelty, but for Magnus and Watson it was par for the course. They already resided jointly in the London Sanctuary, worked side by side daily, and often attended social events as a couple because it was…well…convenient.
The only things that had changed between them since their impromptu tango lesson, which had unleashed a passion in Watson that Helen had never before witnessed, was that James now held her arm in public, kissed her on the cheek goodnight, and referred to her as "darling" more often than not in front of friends.
It was positively exasperating.
"James, really," Helen sighed, picking a piece of lint off of his jacket as they drove up the driveway of Hall Barn Estate in Watson's Model T Ford. "It's a country party not a funeral."
"Party…funeral…the line is very thin, my dear," he replied sarcastically, his Panama hat sitting squarely on his head.
"Not if it's your funeral," Helen quipped. For all his intelligence and charm Watson hated elaborate social gatherings. Give him an intimate dinner party with intelligent conversation or a criminal to chase and he was in his element. Thrust a rifle in his hands and tell him to shoot pheasants for three days and he was overcome by melancholy.
"It's only Saturday to Monday," Helen continued, trying to cheer him. James looked sideways at her with an expression Magnus knew all too well. "Lord and Lady Burnham are great patrons of our work. You know that."
He nodded. "Indeed I do, which is the only reason I have agreed to spend the next three days in their company and the company of at least 20 other individuals I am barely acquainted with…massacring birds…incessantly."
Helen giggled, squeezed James' arm, and laid her head on his shoulder.
"Well, at least you get to shoot. I'm relegated to playing bridge for hours on end.
"But you love bridge, darling."
Darling. The way he said it made her heart skip.
"I do, but after hours of it my fingers become numb as does my brain."
James laughed. "Your brain is never numb, my dear. It's always thinking. Always plotting. I can practically hear it in my sleep."
Helen grinned. "And what else do you hear in your sleep, James?" she asked, her voice low and full of innuendo.
Watson cleared his throat. "Only my dreams, Helen. Only my dreams."
She sighed. Once again she'd thrown him a line and he'd refused to take hold of it. Helen knew James was attracted to her. She'd seen it in the way he glanced at her during dinner, watched her as she sat in rapt attention during a play, or brushed against her arm as they worked together in the Sanctuary. He'd made his intentions perfectly clear during their "dance" as had she, but since that afternoon they hadn't gotten past a quick kiss on the cheek or an innocent peck on the lips.
The desire was there, the camaraderie, trust, and attraction, but for some reason the physical element of their relationship: touching, holding, kissing…and perhaps more…had yet to manifest itself. Somewhat surprisingly, Helen found she missed it. Sex. She missed it dearly. She hoped a weekend in the country, away from the city, the Sanctuary, and the memories it held for them both, would be exactly what they needed to break the shyness that had suddenly enveloped Watson. If they added a few new Sanctuary patrons to their list after long conversations over bridge and bird killing, well, all the better.
They were escorted into the grand, country manor by Lord Burnham's butler, who led them to a large reception area where several guests had already arrived. After proper introductions were made, Lady Burnham, a plump, grey haired, middle-aged woman with a mischievous grin and a hearty laugh, sidled up to Magnus and took her by the crook of the arm, leading her away from the others.
"My dear Helen," she started, almost breathless. "I am so glad you and Dr. Watson could make it this year. I was afraid you might be on some grand adventure in the Congo, or that Dr. Watson would be chasing a vicious criminal about Trafalgar Square. You two live the most extraordinary lives!"
Helen smiled. Lady Burnham, "Alice or 'Allie'" to her friends, admired Magnus and her "modern" sensibilities and subsequently romanticized James' and her work. Well, usually it was romantic. Sometimes it was terrifyingly accurate.
Magnus shook her head. "My apologies, Lady Burnham, but no Congo adventures this summer. There is, however, a possibility that we shall be travelling to America quite soon, the Western part of the nation."
"America! My dear, you do realize that native tribes still run loose in the west? I've heard the most horrid things…."
"Most of the conflicts have ceased, my lady, but I'll be sure to be careful nonetheless."
"See that you are! We can't lose one of Britain's only female physicians to an Indian raid. It would be most unbecoming."
Before Helen could react, Lady Burnham glanced behind her shoulder at Watson who stood with four other gentlemen, including her husband, Lord Burnham, in deep conversation. The older woman turned and whispered into Helen's ear, holding Magnus' arm tight to keep her from escaping. If there was one thing Alice did best, it was gossip, and Magnus was sure she was about to get an earful.
"I hear that you and Dr. Watson have become quite…intimate…as of late," she whispered, giggling slightly at her own scandalous remark.
Helen paused for a moment. "Our affections for one another have grown beyond the bounds of friendship, it's true," she replied tactfully.
"Well," Lady Burnham continued. "It's about time I say! You two are like peas in a pod. Besides, you're a beautiful woman, and Dr. Watson," she remarked, casting an appreciative glance over her right shoulder, "is quite the handsome and accomplished gentleman. You two make a perfect match, and your children would be quite stunning I'm sure."
"Well…I…we…" Helen stammered, fairly certain that marriage, let alone children, weren't on either one of their minds, was it?
"Knowing this, I've taken the liberty of arranging your rooms in the same hallway."
When Helen simply stared at her, befuddled, Lady Burnham grinned and tickled Magnus' arm. "To make it easier, my dear! You won't have too far to wander in the middle of the night to find one another," she winked.
"Oh…," Magnus replied. "Oh!" she repeated more loudly, suddenly understanding her hostesses' intentions. It'd been several years since Helen had been to a country party. She'd forgotten that in addition to the shooting, card playing, cricket, and constant eating, love affairs were the order of the day. It wasn't uncommon for the hostess, particularly one as keen as Lady Burnham, to…facilitate…romantic liaisons. Or perhaps in this case, help consummate one.
Hmm…Magnus thought to herself, turning her head to look at James. He was obviously the center of attention now, entrancing the men in talk of his latest escapades with Scotland Yard no doubt. His charm, intelligence, and quick wit were at their zenith. He was a man completely in control of his domain.
Helen smiled.
He wouldn't know what had hit him.
By time most of the guests had arrived, lunch was being served. Saturday's lunch was an informal affair, consisting of sandwiches, sherry, and some light beer, enough to ensure proper nourishment for the gentlemen before they began their afternoon hunt and to tide everyone else over until tea.
James, having changed into his shooting outfit, departed with the men with a forlorn look on his face. Helen shook her head and grinned. Knowing Watson, he'd soon distract them from birds to bandits with tales of his brilliant criminal conquests.
Some of the women opted to stroll outside. A few of the younger, single girls played lawn tennis. Magnus chose Bridge, mostly because she knew Lady Burnham was obsessed with the game and would insist upon her as her partner, but also because it would occupy her mind and give her the opportunity to make important political contacts.
As predicted, Lady Burnham asked Helen to play. In exchange, Magnus requested that they vie against Lord Harrington's wife, Amelia, and Sir Baker's fiancée, Ruth, both of wealthy and influential families who could be important advocates for The Sanctuary.
Hours of gaming resulted in Magnus, with Lady Burnham's full support, enthralling Lady Harrington and the soon-to-be Lady Baker with descriptions of the Sanctuary and their remarkable research. So enraptured by Magnus' escapades were they that patronage from two of Britain's most wealthy families was sure to follow. If nothing came of this weekend other than that, then Magnus would chalk it up to an, albeit, sexually frustrating but unmitigated success.
Gossip soon followed with the talk centering on a certain young Lord Benbrook, expected at dinner time. He had only recently arrived back in England, having been banished to the continent by his family.
"I can't believe you actually asked him to come, Ally!" Lady Harrington gasped. She was a small, petite woman with chestnut brown hair. "He has the most scandalous reputation…particularly with the ladies," she added under her breath.
Lady Burnham blushed and fanned herself with her cards. "I had no choice Amelia! He's been welcomed home by his family and they are our neighbors, for goodness sake! He's in residence while his parents are abroad, and I couldn't very well host a party without inviting him."
"So what has this Lord Benbrook done that makes him so scandalous?" Magnus inquired, checking her hand, curiosity getting the best of her.
"Easier to recite what he hasn't done," Lady Harrington supplied, drawing a quiet giggle from the younger, blonde Ruth, who mostly sat and smiled throughout their various games.
Amelia leaned across the table toward Magnus, her voice low. "He's a handsome rake of a young man, black hair, black eyes. Fell into gambling…baccarat…hard. Was quite fortunate at it, for a time, till he began losing and his family had to settle his debts. They were so embarrassed that they banished him to France, and now it's said that he's made quite the reputation there as a ladies' man."
"Oh?" Magnus replied, easing into the gossip. Even she was allowed to turn her mind off every now and then.
"Indeed. In fact," Amelia paused, looking around, "I've heard he visited almost every brothel in Paris. Made a wager with a French navy commander as to who could bed the most women in one night…and won!" She paused. "It was 30."
"I heard 45," quipped young Ruth, looking over her hand.
Magnus laughed. "Well, if he's as young and mischievous as you all say then both numbers are most likely a grand exaggeration."
"Oh, but you haven't seen him, Dr. Magnus," Ruth practically gushed, her pink cheeks growing redder with either embarrassment or arousal, Magnus wasn't sure which. "He's…" the young girl paused. For a moment, Helen feared she might faint, overcome with thoughts of the dark, rakish, and randy Lord Benbrook.
"He's what, girl?" Lady Burnham urged her on.
Ruth sighed. "He's an Adonis. He looks like he stepped out of the Elgin Marbles themselves." She sighed again.
Lady Burnham laughed, Lady Harrington snickered, and Helen Magnus suddenly realized Sir Baker had more on his hands than he may have bargained for with his blushing bride to be.
Afternoon tea came and went, bridge continued, strolls about the gardens occurred, and Magnus found that she was thoroughly bored to tears, eventually making her way to the library for some reading and solitude. Finally, the men arrived home bearing 396 dead pheasants.
"What? Only 396?" she teased Watson. "A bit off your game, aren't you doctor?"
He shot her a frown. His clothes were rumpled, his dark hair tousled, and he was sweaty from the hunt. He smelled of dirt and musk and man.
The combination was positively enthralling.
Helen moved closer to James and gently trailed a finger down his right arm. "You look tired, James. Perhaps you should rest. It's been a rather long afternoon. Between the trip here, the hunting, and the incessant gossip, I could lie down as well," she said quietly, hoping he caught the invitation in her voice.
He looked up at her, his hazel eyes capturing her blue and holding them there for what seemed like minutes. He finally opened his mouth to speak when Lord Burnham came up from behind him, jolting them out of their mutual trance with a hearty slap to Watson's back.
"Good show old boy!" the tall and rather portly host proclaimed. He looked at Helen. "Your gentleman friend bagged the most birds today." He looked back at Watson. "I expect even greater things tomorrow, Watson! We were only getting warmed up this afternoon." Burnham trailed off to greet another of his guests, his booming voice echoing in the drawing room.
Helen cocked her head. "Bagged the most birds, did we?"
James grinned. "I didn't say I wasn't good, I said I didn't like it." His smile faded, and he looked away quickly. "Dinner's in an hour. I should change."
Helen nodded. "As should I."
"I'll pick you up in your room at 7:45 and escort you to the dining room."
"That would be lovely. Thank you, James," she said, smiling, trying to hide her disappointment.
Magnus was checking her make up when the knock came at her door precisely at a quarter til 8.
She walked over and opened it. James stood there dressed in his formal evening attire, a dark tail coat and trousers with a black waistcoat, white shirt, and white bow tie. His hair was slicked back and his moustache turned up. He was incredibly handsome, a fact she couldn't believe she had purposefully overlooked for so long.
He stared at her in turn, not saying a word, his eyes moving up and down her long, lean body. Her dress was rose colored, draped in the latest London fashion, and hung close to her form, revealing every curve. It had a white sash at the waist and a low neckline that hinted at the treasures beneath. A string of white pearls hung low and doubled around her neck.
The awkward, frustrating silence descended upon them again. This time it was James who finally broke it.
"You look ravishing, Helen. Simply ravishing."
He leaned forward, grabbed her gently by the elbow, and kissed her cheek. His moustache tickled her face. The heat of the simple touch, the gentle kiss, seared her skin. She swallowed.
"Thank you, James. You look quite handsome yourself," she choked, struggling to speak.
"What, this old thing?" he said, tugging at the lapels of his jacket.
The flippant comment had the desired effect. It made her laugh and broke the awkwardness between them. She took his offered arm and let him lead her downstairs to the dining room.
By time they arrived the drawing room was a buzz. Helen caught Lady Harrington's eye as she walked by with her husband.
"What's going on?" Magnus asked.
"He's here," Amelia whispered. She cocked her head toward the far wall where a tall young man in black tails and top hat stood looking extremely bored.
"Lord Benbrook I presume?"
"The same."
Helen had thought Ruth, soon to be Baker, prone to exaggeration given her youth, but dear god…
The girl was right. Lord Benbrook was an Adonis.
He stood at least 6 foot 4 inches tall, his body lean and muscular under his perfectly tailored clothes. His shoulders were broad, his hair dark and wavy, and his eyes were so big and brown they looked almost black. His jaw was square and rugged. He had no facial hair, which set him apart from most men at the party, and there was an air of defiance about him that Magnus was sure drew the young women to him like flies.
Perhaps 30, even 45 women in one night, hadn't been so unrealistic after all?
She grinned at the thought. It was then he noticed her. Magnus knew she'd simply been appraising him, studying him as she would any Abnormal, albeit a rather attractive one. But to anyone else, more importantly to Lord Benbrook, it might appear she had been staring, and staring at a man across the parlor at a Country Party could only mean…
He smiled at her, his teeth perfectly straight and glimmering white. He tipped his hat and winked.
Oh no, Magnus thought.
But it was too late. The gauntlet had been thrown. Lord Benbrook had just selected his next sexual conquest: the very single, very desirable, very enigmatic Dr. Helen Magnus.
(to be continued)