I know I should have done another chapter of Cannot Be Spoken but I'm nervous about writing any more before the next episode, I don't know why. Any way, I wanted to write Dr. Turner and Bernadette in love, properly, openly in love, and courting. This may be a oneshot, or may not be, depending on various things; the most prominent being whether anyone wants any more. Also, I'm reluctant to given Bernadette another Christian name until we find out what it is in the show, so even if she's not a nun, I'm just going to call her Bernadette at the moment.
He looked up happily as heard the sound of the door opening and saw her quickly descending the steps of Nonnatus House. She was watching her steps carefully to avoid tripping, looking down at her feet, biting her smiling lips a little in concentration as she did so. The dress she was wearing was an old one that Jenny had given her and it was a little on the long side, dropping past her knees, and fluttering behind her. The skirt was pale blue, and the jumper she wore on top was a darker blue- about the same colour as the habit she used to wear. Her hair- he had not quite found the word for its colour yet, but it was beautiful- lay loose over her shoulders. Reaching the bottom of the steps, she stopped and smiled, a little shyly, at him.
"Hello."
She could never regard her years in the convent as wasted ones- for the most part she had been very happy there-, and nor could he either. Without them she would not be the woman she was; the woman he loved. Even though her vows had kept them apart, they would never have met if she had not been at Nonnatus House. He could not be sorry.
"Hello, my dear," he replied, taking hold of her hands and gently kissing her cheek.
Upon leaving the order, which she had technically done this morning, it had been agreed that she would be living at Nonnatus House as a nurse until their wedding which they hoped would take place as soon as was convenient, perhaps in about a month's time. That lunchtime, when it had been deemed appropriate, he had telephoned to ask if he could take her out that evening.
This had caused great excitement, particularly among the young midwives, at Nonnatus House. It had been Trixie who had answered the telephone.
"Sister Bernadette has been not Sister Bernadette for all of five minutes, and there's already a suitor on the phone for her," she had announced to the house at large.
"Give it here," Bernadette told her, trying to sound stern and suppress a grin, running to the telephone before Sister Evangelina could get wind of what was going on.
"Are none of you meant to me working?" she asked pointedly, as Cynthia, Chummy and Jenny lined up before her, plainly waiting to hear what she was going to say.
"It's lunchtime," Trixie reminded her.
She was about to huff and protest when the arrival of Sister Julienne saved her by making her crowd of hangers-on disperse hurriedly, and she was able to explain to him in an amused but regulated voice, in case they had crept around the corner to listen, what had caused her delay.
He smiled at her, and shyly but happily she took his outstretched hand.
"Where would you like to go?" he asked her as they set off down the street and the time came nearer and nearer when they would have to choose a particular direction to head in.
"I don't know," she replied, "I've never been courted before."
"I've never courted anyone in Poplar before," he responded, "What would you say to going to get some fish and chips and eating them on a bench near the water?"
"Oh, yes," she replied, "That sounds wonderful. Chummy used to speak most highly of the fish and chip shop when PC Noakes used to call to take her out. They used to do that and then go to a film, and when she got back to Nonnatus House they'd sit her down at the table and make her tell them everything. Well," she amended, smiling a little bashfully, "We all did really."
"We could go to a film later too, if you like," he told her, "I'm sure there'll be something playing."
"I'd rather not," she told him, "If you don't mind. I'd rather be able to talk to you."
He smiled in return.
"There's nothing I'd like more, either," he replied, giving her hand a gentle squeeze, "We have a great deal to talk about. They won't all sit you down at the table and make you tell all too, will they?"
"I doubt it," she told him, "They think I'm too shy. And Sister Julienne has probably told them not to. But Trixie might still try. And," she added, almost giggling a little, remembering what had happened when she had hung up the phone, "Chummy offered to try and make Cubs last as long as possible tonight so that we could have an extra half an hour."
He laughed, and she did too. Her movements, more liberated without her habit and her veil, caught his eye and transfixed him for a second. She caught his eye and looked back, questioningly.
"You look very nice," he told her, "What you're wearing. You always look beautiful," he added a moment later as a qualifier, thinking how the blue of the jumper just caught the blue of her eyes.
"I wasn't sure what I should wear," she told him, "In the end, I let Cynthia in to help me. I'm glad you like it."
As she spoke they arrived at the fish and chip shop, joining the back of the queue, content to wait together silently.
"Will you let me take you shopping?" he asked her, as they arrived at a bench beside a particularly slow, still and quiet part of the canal, each holding a packet of fish and chips wrapped in newspaper, "Beautiful as you look, I don't much like the idea of you not owning any of your own clothes."
"You don't have to," she told him, gently.
"I want to," he told her earnestly, "I want to buy you beautiful clothes."
She smiled down at the fish and chips resting in her lap, and smiled, flushing a little under his admiring gaze, lingering over her face and the side of her neck.
"Eat your chips, Doctor," she told him, without looking at him, the hint of a laugh in her stern tone.
She heard him laugh beside her.
"Alright," he replied.
They ate in silence, watching the water go by slowly. It was a beautiful evening; there was weak London evening sunlight shining yellow over green ivy and over the tops of brick walls. The spot where they sat was on of the last to be submerged by the lengthening shadows as the evening closed in in earnest.
"How are you feeling?" he asked her when they had finished, "It must be a little strange. Today was on of the most important days of your life."
"I'm not sure," she replied, "I'm not used to it yet. It hardly feels different yet. Perhaps this means that I wasn't a particularly good nun," she conjectured lightly.
He laughed again.
"Somehow I doubt that," he told her, "Though I don't know enough to be able to comment."
They were quiet.
"I only know that I'm very happy to be here with you now," she told him, "And that I will be with you more."
"Ever so much more," he told her, "For the rest of our lives. If that's what you still want."
"Of course it is," she told him simply, and he had no reason to doubt her. Still she radiated a sense of honesty and goodness. He wondered if she would ever lose that, and doubted it.
"That's good," he replied.
They were quiet again, sitting back contentedly against the back of the bench. She was still watching the water, and he turned his to watch her in profile. She seemed to breath with the evening air. For someone who had just come back into the world at large, she looked remarkably well in it.
"You know," he told her quietly, in a level voice, "What you feel when you feel God, I think I may have found it."
She turned her head towards him, her lips parting in surprise at the suddenness of his comment; her eyes shining slightly, her brow furrowing in interest, willing him to explain.
"It's what I feel when I look at you," he told her, "What I feel when I'm with you."
She was quiet for a few seconds.
"That's called love," she told him, looking back out at the water.
Always, her intelligence, her under-stated wisdom, her insightfulness had been something he had noticed, but never before had it been so striking.
"Yes," he replied in a murmur, "I think it is."
She turned back to him, smiling warmly, and he extended his arm to wrap around her shoulders. She leant in towards his body and allowed him to draw him to her.
"I love you too," she told him quietly, resting her head against his shoulder, and he bowed his head, kissing the top of hers.
They stayed like that, her hand resting- cautiously at first, then more comfortably- on the centred of his chest. No one passed them by, and they were silent. Having whether so long in a staunch and silent denial of their feelings, it was blissful now, to be able to rest quietly together, having spoken their feelings for one another. They had their beauty now, and had managed to shake off pain.
"I want to buy you an engagement ring, too," he told her, quietly.
He half-expected her to protest again, but he thought he felt her smile against his chest.
"I'd like that," she replied, "I'd very much like to wear your ring."
It struck him that she was used to wearing a ring, and it would be a comfort to her to be able to wear one again.
"I think we will have to get back," he told her, as the shadows finally enveloped them, and darkness began gradually to fall, "I don't want to leave you," he told her, "But I wouldn't forgive myself if you caught cold."
"I'm alright," she told him, knowing that he was very cautious of her health after her spell in the Sanatorium, "I'm better. I'm not a bit more vulnerable to cold than you yourself are."
"Even so," he replied, and then in a slightly deeper voice, "I could stay with you forever."
"And I you," she replied, "But soon we'll be able to."
"Yes," he replied happily, getting up and offering his hand to help her up, revelling in the truth of what she said, "Yes."
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