Season 6 postscript
Inspector Lynley had become more convinced of his feelings for his partner, but
it was proving difficult to convince her of how much he cared for her. She
was willing to spend more time with him after work, going out for dinner or
crashing at one of their flats with takeout. When they had leave, he often persuaded her to come with him to Cornwall. But wherever they spent the night, she insisted on sleeping alone.
"You said that you love me," he said.
"I do! And yes, I want to! But I know your reputation, SIR, and if I sleep with you," she said, "what happens when you get tired of me? Our partnership is over, and that's the most important thing in my life. So, no, the answer is no."
He insisted, "I will never get tired of you! I love you."
"Yeah," she'd say, "for now."
He understood her reluctance, her hesitations. It had required a leap of faith for him too. Their partnership had changed them both. He knew that he was less dogmatic, superior, patronizing. She was warmer, less isolated, more confident and outgoing, not as angry. She wasn't afraid to dress more attractively. She'd made a friend or two at the Met, but their partnership remained their most valued relationship. They worked so well together, better than either of them would have worked alone or with another partner. They often read one another's thoughts. He'd never been so close to anyone. But how could he now be falling in love with this woman, his friend, his partner, the woman he'd known for years, so different from everyone else in his life? He'd had to probe his feelings. He'd gotten angry at her once when she said she was "common – in every sense of the word, Sir. A commoner, your lordship. And not refined." Was she "common" or was she down to earth, real? She seemed to lack the defensive reticence that was ingrained in him; was it as easy as it seemed for Barbara to just say what she thought? But however he looked at his doubts, they seemed irrelevant to what he was feeling. He loved her, he cherished her, she gave his life meaning, a depth it had not had. And sometime during these ponderings, he found that he was wildly attracted to her as well; he found himself drowning in those beautiful green eyes, longing to kiss those narrow lips, the hollow at the base of her throat. He wanted a life with her. He couldn't imagine one without her. It was more difficult for her.
"I don't see how I can fit into your world, your life," she insisted. "And I don't think I want to!"
He raised an eyebrow. "My life?" he said. "You are my life! What can I say that will make you believe it? Barbara, I haven't had half the experiences you think I've had, and how many of those women do you think I wanted to marry?" "Two," she said. He looked away for a moment. She had seen those relationships up close. Deborah. Helen. "Yes," he said solemnly, looking at her intently. "Two in a lifetime. And you're the third, third and last." She shook her head, and changed the subject.
He had enlisted his mother and sister in his efforts to persuade Barbara to
marry him, but she remained skeptical. She tried telling Lady Asherton how she
felt. "I've seen the women he dated," she said. "They were all
tall and slim, with beautiful clothes and hair. They get their nails done.
And, more important, they're cultured, educated. Like Helen.
And as we all know, I am none of those things, and I think he'd come to feel embarrassed by me. I couldn't bear that!"
"My dear Barbara," the older woman said gently. "Most of those women
bored him in very short order. You never bore him. He loves being with you.
He gets cranky when you're not around. You make him laugh; I've seen how
he reacts when you tease him, puncture him when he's just the tiniest bit pompous. You make ME laugh! I haven't seen him as cheerful with anyone else or as comfortable. Helen? You know that they were close, dear friends, going back to when he was in love with Deborah and she with Simon. Maybe they shouldn't have married. I know he was never sure of her, he didn't know what to expect. And I could never understand why she left him after she lost the baby. I thought they needed to comfort one another. I don't know who comforted her, but I know that you were there for him. Before Helen, during Helen, and after her death. You've always been there for him."
"And I always will be!" she insisted. "That's why I think we should stay friends, partners, and he should stop this rubbish about marrying me!" Lady Asherton put her hand on Barbara's. "Tommy's not meant to live alone. If you won't marry him, how would you feel if he married someone else?"
Barbara looked at her with a palpable sense of sadness. "It would break my heart," she said.
"Then, marry him," the older woman said briskly.
Barbara looked at Lady Asherton. "Can you tell me in all honesty that you wouldn't be embarrassed by me in front of your family, your friends?"
The older woman smiled. "I can tell you in all honesty that I cannot conceive of feeling such a thing."
Barbara stood up, walked nervously around the library. "Do you really see me bearing your title, being 'Lady' anything?"
Lady Asherton laughed. "Oh, that! Once or twice a year and all it takes is a gown and a curtsy. How often have you seen Tommy play the Lord? He cares much more about being 'Inspector'. Barbara, I admire you, I respect you, and I find you bright and insightful; my son says you are brilliant at your work. He also finds you 'adorable'. I think you are very pretty, you are always polite and charming, and I would be honored to have you in my family. You love Tommy, don't you?"
Barbara blushed. "I do," she said softly.
"And have done for a long time."
She bit her lip, wondering if it had been that obvious.
"Yes," she said.
Lady Asherton looked around the library. "You know, I was married at eighteen. I didn't really have much education. My school was more of a finishing school. I got my education here, in this room. I read my way through most of these books." She smiled. "Any time you'd like to get started, here they are."
Barbara told him of this conversation with his mother as they walked by the sea that afternoon. "Good for my mother," he said. He took both her hands, kissed them and held them tightly in his own. "She does like you, and she realizes that not only do I love you,
but I'm closer to you than I've ever been to anyone. I understand you. You understand me. You don't get angry at me for being so involved in work." He laughed. "You're just as involved as I am, and so when I say that you are my life, I mean it. I don't want to go to parties or fancy dinners. I want to lie around with you after work. I don't want you to change. I think you're perfect – perfect for me - just as you are. I might want to take you to the opera sometime, but nothing matters that much to me except the job…and you." He stopped, put his arms around her and held her close. " Please, darling, please marry me."
She frowned, tried to pull away. "You know, I hate the way you use that word. 'Darling'. You and Helen used to say it, and I always felt it was…phony somehow. Automatic. Didn't mean anything." He looked thoughtful, still holding her. "How about 'dearest' or 'my love'
"How about 'Havers'!" she said tartly.
"Havers, it is, then, my dearest love. Or 'Sergeant.'"
She punched his arm and laughed, but she stayed in his arms as he held her even closer, kissing her again and again, and this time, she was kissing him back. That night, when they went upstairs, he stopped her before she went to her room.
"No," he said. "Tonight, you're coming with me." He led her firmly in the opposite direction and opened the door to his suite of rooms.
In the morning, he sat by the window, watching her asleep in his bed.
When she began to stir, he went to sit by her. "Good morning, Barbara."
She grunted, burrowed into the pillows, covering her face with the blankets.
"Now, now," he said, grinning. "You can't hide. Look at me."
She pulled the covers down just a bit and did as she was told.
He smiled tenderly. "Barbara, my love," he teased, "now that I have compromised your honour, I think you will have to marry me."
When she didn't answer, he went on, more seriously. "Come on, Barbara. Lovemaking was the only thing missing from our relationship and now it's complete. Last night was….well, it was wonderful. Are you going to tell me it wasn't? Tell me you didn't love last night."
She would have cowered under the blankets again, but he held her hands and bent down to kiss her. "Havers?"
She sighed. "Okay." It was a whisper, barely heard.
"Can you say that again, please, Detective Sergeant?
A bit louder?" He kissed her again. "OKAY!" she said.
And it was.