Notes:
I recently saw the mini-series and LOVED IT, but I have loved the book for far longer, and I am much more familiar with the story as presented by Ms Clarke herself. So if you haven't read the book you might be a little confused by some of the people and events in this story.
John Squared doesn't make an appearance until Chapter Two, but it will be there, I promise!
All characters belong to other, more talented people. Only the mistakes are mine
Chapter 1: In Which the Person Once Known as Stephen Black Does Not Abduct Mrs Brandy
April 1817
The bell over the shop door tinkled merrily. Toby Smith glanced up to see who had entered, his mouth opening to form the words "How may I help you, sir?" When he saw who it was, no sound came out and he merely stared, jaw hanging slack in his astonishment. It was Stephen Black, Sir Walter Pole's butler.
Or was it? He had the same impeccable clothing, the same perfectly correct bearing, the same handsome face and figure made more striking by skin the color of Mrs Brandy's finest carracca chocolate. Not so familiar was the expression on Black's face. Gone was the unhappy, distant look that Toby recalled seeing during his ever-less-frequent visits to the shop in recent years. Gone was the impression of a man always listening for something dreadful just beyond the edge of hearing. Instead he looked calm and (Toby thought wildly) more present than the average person would. It was as though Black's entire being, clothes and all, was several shades brighter and more solid than it should be.
"Mr Black!" gasped Toby, finding his voice at last. "What a pleasure to see you again, sir! It has been far too long!"
Black smiled at him. "Too long, indeed. Longer than you know. Is Mrs Brandy about? I would speak with her, if she is at liberty."
"Why yes, Mr Black, I believe she is in the stockroom," said Toby, wincing as he closed the ledger on his own fingers in his haste. "I'll just tell her you've come, sir. I won't be a moment." He bowed himself out through the stockroom door, wondering why the appearance of an old customer should cause him to be all of a-tremble.
"Mrs Brandy," he called, wending his way through the barrels and crates of goods. "Are you back here, ma'am?"
"Yes, Toby, what is it?" came his mistress's voice from the far corner. He poked his head around a shelf stacked with biscuit tins and found Mrs Brandy sitting on a tall stool, counting spice jars. "Do you know, we have sold more cinnamon during the past month than we did in the whole year before that? Do you suppose - why, Toby, whatever is the matter? You look quite ill."
"It's - well - it is the gentleman who has just come in," said Toby. Mrs Brandy's bright eyes were fixed on him in that way she had which meant get on with it, Toby so he blurted out the rest with no thought for tact: "It is Stephen Black. He wishes to speak with you."
Mrs Brandy grew perfectly still, and her eyes dimmed. Then she slid off the stool, brushed the cinnamon-scented stockroom dust from her gown, and marched straight into the shop, her chin raised high. Toby watched her go with admiration. Time had added a few inches to her waist and some strands of silver to her hair, but she was still a fine figure of a woman.
Meanwhile, Mrs Brandy found herself deflating somewhat when confronted with a Stephen Black who was even more poised and handsome than her memory had made him. He took her hand and bowed over it, not kissing it but bring it so close to his face that she felt his warm breath.
"Mr Black," said she, trying to sound cool and distant but ending up with slightly squeaky. "I had quite given you up. Wherever have you been hiding yourself these past years?" The words were ones she had rehearsed in the privacy of her mind many times, and although they were intended to sound careless and flippant, she could not keep the love and pain that had filled her heart for so long from shining through her eyes. To her amazement, she saw tears shining back at her as Mr Black straightened his back and met her gaze.
"My dearest Mrs Brandy," he said (how soft and deep his voice was!). "I want nothing more than to answer that question to your total satisfaction. You have always been my truest friend and knowing that I have caused you such pain since - " he faltered " - since first I began to be - unwell - has been a source of bitter sorrow to me. I do not pretend to be able to make full amends, but I would be honored if you would give me leave to try."
Mrs Brandy found herself quite unable to remain aloof in the face of such sincerity. "Oh Mr Black, I am so glad that you are here," she said, giving his hand a quick squeeze before releasing it. "Please come upstairs to the sitting-room and let me make up a pot of tea. Then we shall sit and talk, as we used, and you shall explain it all."
Stephen Black followed her to the cosy upstairs room where he had once spent so many cheerful hours. He seated himself at the small table by the fire and watched her bustle about, preparing tea and biscuits as though her heart were not hammering hard enough to nearly be audible across the room.
Mrs Brandy shot many a rapid glance at him as she worked, wondering at the change in him. He is regal, she thought, setting the china cups in their saucers. How clearly I can picture him wearing a crown and sitting upon a throne just as easily as he sits in that old wooden chair! She wrinkled her brow at the oddness of that thought and carried the tray to the table, hardly trembling at all.
"I am sure you remember Lady Pole's long illness," said Mr Black, and the non sequitur made her blink.
"Oh! yes, of course," said Mrs Brandy. "I could hardly forget it, when the true nature of her suffering has been so lately revealed! It seems that folk talk of little else these days. Indeed, it has been much upon my own mind. That poor woman- to have been enchanted for so long, and unable to even speak of it..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "But forgive me, what has that to do with - with your coming here today?"
"It has everything to do with it, my dear Mrs Brandy. You see, I was under the same enchantment."
Whatever she had been expecting him to say, this was not it. She stared at him. "You, Mr Black? But you were not returned from the dead, were you?"
"No, I was not, but the fairy employed by Mr Norrell to restore Lady Pole took a great liking to me, and compelled me to attend him at his slightest whim, night and day. As soon as I realized what was happening to me (for at first I thought it all no more than a bad dream) I made the utmost effort to distance myself from you. I feared above all things that if the Gentleman had a chance to spend any time in your company he would soon have drawn you into his web as well. He was fond of adding lovely and intelligent human women to his household. Indeed, that is how Mrs Strange came to be enchanted as well."
The words came tumbling out in a great hurry, as though he wished to say as much as he could before she stopt him.
"Mrs Brandy, I can never apologize enough for the pain I have given you, and I can only pray that now that you know my reasons, you may find it in your heart to one day forgive - " He broke off, and looked down at his hand where it rested on the table. Mrs Brandy had laid her fingers upon his.
"My dear Mr Black," she said, voice unsteady with joy (he thought her lovely and intelligent! As much so as Lady Pole and Mrs Strange! Enough to be in danger of being whisked off to Other Lands!). "I pray that you do not spend another moment of anxiety on that account. I forgive you."
Mr Black seemed quite overcome by her response, and gave her pretty, plump fingers a squeeze with his long, elegant ones.
"But my suffering can have been nothing compared to your own!" she exclaimed. "How glad you must be to be free of it! And Sir Walter must be delighted to have both his wife and his faithful servant restored to their natural selves!"
"I am sure he is delighted by his wife," agreed Mr Black, "but I do not know how he feels about me. I have not returned to his service. I am my own master now."
Mrs Brandy raised an eyebrow. "And what are you doing now, instead of serving Sir Walter?"
"I have become King of the fairy realm of Lost-hope."
Mrs Brandy raised the other eyebrow.
"I know it is difficult to believe, but it is the truth," said Mr Black. "There is no faster way to convince you than by shewing you, so..." He looked over his shoulder and said, "Open the way, Stonegarden."
A fresh breeze sprang up, bringing the smell of green leaves and grass into the little upper room, and the door swung open. It did not reveal the dim stairway that led to the shop stairs, but a sunshine-drenched glade surrounded by cherry and apple trees in full blossom. Petals blew into the room. Some landed in Mrs Brandy's hair.
"You were once kind enough to say that you would go anywhere for my sake," Stephen Black was saying. "I do not ask you to follow me to Africa, but to somewhere much stranger - and yet much closer - for the doors between England and Lost-hope are no longer hard to open. Your friendship and affection have been the best part of my life. They are the only thing I lack as I take up a new world of responsibility and power. If you need time to consider, I understand. If you would rather I go and never return, I understand that also. You need not fear that I will bring you away against your will, or that coming with me means that you may never return to England, or - what are you doing?"
"I am writing to let Toby know that I am leaving the shop in his charge while I am gone," said Mrs Brandy, scribbling furiously on the back of an old envelope.
"And how long will that be?" asked Mr Black.
"Oh," said Mrs Brandy, "forever, I should think." She took his arm and smiled up at him. "Let us be away, then, my dear Mr Black."
"That is actually no longer my name," he said, as they stepped into the sunshine. "I have left that part of myself behind."
"Well, I do not intend to remain Mrs Brandy for much longer, either," said Mrs Brandy.
"I am the King, so you shall be Queen, if you like," said the King of Lost-hope.
"That will do very nicely, my dear."