As always, these are not my characters, I'm just playing with them. Reviews very welcome!
In the sunroom, season 4 episode 3.
A slow smile crept across Jean's lips as she stared out into the garden.
She recalled the lightness of their conversation, the teasing about the plants, the way he stroked her arms through her dress, and the memory of his touch burned and aroused her. She knew he wanted her, he loved her, he wasn't deterred by the gossips in the town who would whisper about the doctor carrying on with his housekeeper.
She deliberately and slowly remembered the feel of his breath on her face and the tickle of his beard as Lucien had approached to kiss her. Standing so close they could sense each other without touching, she had closed her eyes as the kiss became inevitable, her only thought being that at last, at last it was going to happen. Her stomach flipped at his familiar scent; soap, crisp cotton, that smell that was just his, but now stronger as his arm reached round her waist to pull her closer.
And then the phone rang. Again.
Still, even afterwards, as she peeled off her gardening gloves and stood remembering, she felt truly secure, wanted, desired, for the first time since Christopher died. She smiled to herself, a tiny seed of confidence growing. Now she was sure of him, it would surely happen, they would be together.
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Early morning, season 4 episode 4.
The chill of dawn bit at her fingers as she looked out over the garden she had tended for so many years. From her bedroom window it looked cold and forbidding. All night she had turned over in her mind the horrifying previous evening, reliving the pain, her mind shying away from that moment when she had realised it was all over, yet unable to stop remembering it.
In the dark, as she lay in bed unable to sleep, she questioned again and again, how could he not have known his wife was alive? Had he really had no idea? And then the truth hit her, like a stabbing pain in the stomach. She had fallen in love with a married man. This idea was so abhorrent to her, how could she have let this happen? That she hadn't known he was married was hardly an excuse, it seemed. And he had offered her his mother's ring, as good as proposed, and she had been so happy, so joyful, just for a minute, maybe two. Would that minute prove to have been the best moment she would ever have, before all hopes were dashed?
Now, as she stood looking at the garden she would have to give up to Mei Lin, she thought of the woman presently sleeping in Lucien's bed with envy, and she hated herself for it. Jean's hands shook and her face was reddened with a night of no sleep and too many tears. Somehow she had to gather herself to get ready for work, ready to cook and clean in a house that no longer felt like her home.
She would have to move out, she supposed, and find a new job. How could she stay and watch Mei Lin pick up the threads of her marriage to Lucien? This morning only her bedroom felt safe, the only place she could admit to the pain. Once downstairs she would have to be just the housekeeper again, deferring to the wife she could never be. Before heading to the bathroom to wash away the evidence of the night, Jean touched the tiny leather box on her dressing table, the one containing Lucien's mother's ring. She would have to give it back, today, but she would face that later.
Taking a deep breath and mentally gathering herself, she opened the bedroom door to face her new reality.