Jean Will Not Be Pleased

Jean stood with fellow mourners, making kind small talk by herself as her fiancé slipped off into another room. He had that look in his eye that Jean knew all too well.

And sure enough, a few minutes later, some constables were escorting young Roselyn out. Matthew followed a minute later with his now-familiar limp. But Lucien was nowhere to be seen.

Immediately worried, Jean went off to find him.

He was sitting down in the hallway by the stairs. Lucien looked up as he heard her approach. He immediately smiled. "Hello," he greeted. Jean noticed that his tone was entirely too chipper.

"What's happened?" she asked sharply.

"Ah, well, it seems Roselyn was Patrick's daughter. Never acknowledged her. She resented Edward her whole life, of course."

Jean nodded, interrupting, "I see. But why are you sitting here? I'd have thought you'd want to go with the police to the interview."

Lucien looked at her for a moment, weighing his options. He didn't want to upset her. That was the last thing he wanted. But she was always more upset when he took things into his own hands without telling her, without letting her be a part of the process. She was always a part of the process when he investigated crimes. Why was he so reactionary when it came to their personal life? That was something to examine later. For now, he knew he had to tell her. "Roselyn came at me with a kitchen knife, can you believe that?"

Jean's eyes went wide. "Lucien, did you get stabbed again?!"

"No, it's nothing, really. She did more damage to the shirt than she did to me, I'm afraid. Pity, too. This is my best shirt." He opened his jacket to show her the tear in the fabric.

"Lucien! You're bleeding!" she exclaimed. "Come along. We have to patch this up right now."

She took his hand and led him up the stairs, down the hall, and into one of the guest bathrooms. She opened the cupboard and retrieved a first aid kit. Lucien frowned. "How did you know where that was?"

"I used to work here," she replied casually.

"You did?!"

"Yes. Just before I came to work for your father. Patrick's parents knew me from church, knew I was in a rather dire circumstance needing to sell the farm. Roselyn Tyneman told me that one of their maids was getting her appendix removed, and would I be willing to step in, temporarily. And I desperately needed the money, so I agreed. I'm just glad no one's moved the first aid kit."

Lucien regarded her curiously. It astounded him that his Jean, the woman he adored more than life itself, had lived so vastly differently than he had. "You had to clean up after Patrick Tyneman?" he teased.

"No, thank goodness. I don't think Patrick and I would have ended up as good of friends if I had. He was off travelling at the time. It was just his parents here. And they were kind enough to me. I was never very good as a maid. The work was fine, but I was never really one to keep to myself, as you well know. But that was how your father found out I needed work. He came for a house call, and I opened the door. He was surprised to see me. And I suppose the rest is history."

"I am glad you didn't want to be a maid. You're much better suited to being a doctor's wife," he said with a smile.

Jean smirked proudly. "Take your shirt off, please. I want to clean that cut and patch you up as best you can. Do you think you'll need stitches?"

"No, I don't think it's that bad," he assured her. Lucien removed his jacket and tie first, but he rubbed the cut the wrong way and hissed in discomfort.

"Oh here, let me," she insisted. Jean unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders. "I don't think I'll be able to mend this sufficiently." She sighed, looking at the hole in the shirt. "Honestly, you ruin more clothes getting stabbed by murderers, Lucien. You really should develop better habits." Jean was teasing him but her eyes betrayed her true feelings. She couldn't bring herself to look at him.

"Jean," he said softly, putting his finger under her chin and tilting her head away from the first aid kit she was fiddling with and up to look at him. "I will try to be more careful."

A single tear escaped from her eye. Lucien leaned in and gently kissed it away. "Thank you," she whispered. "It is very frightening to love you, sometimes." Jean placed her hand flat on his chest, right over his heart, trying to keep her own pulse from quickening at getting to touch him like this. "My heart beats with yours." Jean immediately felt silly for saying something so maudlin.

But she needn't have worried. Lucien covered her hand with his own. "My heart beats only for you, my darling."

"Then you'd better keep it safe," she told him with a definitive nod.

He took her hand off his heart and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Of course," he promised.

Jean cleared her throat and turned back to the first aid kit. "We'd better get you fixed up before people start wondering where we've gone."

She set to work with iodine to clean the wound and a bit of gauze and tape to cover it up. She helped him put his shirt back on and hide the hole by buttoning the jacket. It would do until they could get home for him to change.

They returned downstairs to give their final condolences to Susan and be on their way. When they got in the car, Jean had a thought that she said aloud. "You know, I don't mind your scars."

"I have far too many, and they aren't very attractive," he replied bitterly.

"That has nothing to do with it. You are very attractive, scars or not. I don't like that you have so many only because I don't like thinking how hurt you've been and how much pain all of those wounds have caused you. But the scars are proof that you survived. You have scars so you can be here and become my husband," she said, smiling at him.

He reached across the seat and took her hand as he drove. "Yes, I am going to become your husband in just a few days, love. And I know better than to make guarantees, but I will try not to get any new scars after this one."

"If you do, I'll be very cross."

"I have no doubt," he chuckled. "I told Lawson you wouldn't be pleased about this one."

"No, I'm not. And you'd better heal quickly. I don't want to spend our honeymoon playing nursemaid to you."

Lucien smirked. "Jean, I don't care if I have to glue this wound shut, we are going to spend our honeymoon having adventures every day and every night."

"Adventures at night?"

"Oh yes. Most of our fun will be had at night, I think," he said with a slight growl.

Jean blushed. She wouldn't tell him how excited she was for their nighttime adventures. She'd show him after the wedding. And every night thereafter.

As long as his wound healed, of course. It wouldn't do to have him bleed all over. But Jean had gotten rather good at patching him up, and she would gladly do it for the rest of their lives.