Walking the Wire
Jean tried to ignore the way Lucien's eyes followed her around the parlor as she did her dusting. She tried to ignore the way she involuntarily smiled, knowing he wasn't paying a bit of attention to the newspaper that was slowly lowering from his face. She really did try not to enjoy the fact that her new employer was thoroughly gorgeous and brilliant and kind and funny, and that he seemed to be noticing her more and more. But Jean knew that surely flattery was all there could ever be.
In the four months since he had arrived in Ballarat, they'd gone through a wild series of ups and downs together. She had first been thankful for his presence, as Thomas had suffered such a horrible stroke and was uncommunicative for the most part. She had written to Lucien to ask him to come see his father for she feared he was not long for this world. And she had been correct. Lucien, being a doctor himself, had been able to help make his father comfortable. But he had such sullen moods and a filthy penchant for drink and cigarettes which infuriated her to no end. Still, he had been kind company to Jean when she had no one else. He would not step foot in church, much to her earlier horror, though when he told her of his wife and daughter who had gone missing and perhaps perished in the war and his own terrible treatment at the hands of the Japanese, Jean could not fault his lapse in religiosity.
After Thomas had died, Lucien proclaimed that he would settle affairs and leave Ballarat. Jean worried for her fate and had searched for another job. But as she and Lucien grew closer and he sought her assistance in the cases he worked with the police, they had come to something of an understanding. Jean turned down a job offer she'd received. Lucien officially took over Dr. Blake's practice. And each evening, they sat together at the dinner table with Mattie and Danny and all discussed their work and enjoyed the meal Jean had prepared. It was comfortable and happy. A family in its own way.
But now, Lucien was between cases. Mattie and Danny were at work. And Jean was busy with the household chores, doing her best to keep from smiling as she still tried to ignore the way he was looking at her.
"Jean?" he finally ventured after several minutes of quiet survey.
She turned to address him, feigning disinterest. "Hmm?"
He stared at her. She looked back expectantly. "Jean."
She sighed, seeing now that he was in one of his odd, thoughtful moods. "Yes, Lucien?"
"You're very beautiful," he blurted.
Jean balked. Her eyes widened in surprise.
Lucien sputtered, "Oh. No. I mean...you look very beautiful. Erm. Today. You look nice. Today. Most days. Always. I mean..."
She blushed but couldn't help laugh a bit. "Lucien, are you alright?"
"I'm sorry, Jean. I..." he trailed off and stood up from the sofa and scurried into his study and closed the door.
Jean stood there, unsure what to do. What on earth was he up to, daring to say such things to the housekeeper?
But she didn't need to wonder for long. He came right out a moment later, standing tall and squaring his shoulders in a show of strange bravery. "Jean, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"I wasn't. I'm...flattered." The blush had not fully dissipated from her cheeks. Her heart was pounding in her chest at this unexpected encounter between them.
"I was hoping to ask if you would like to have dinner with me sometime?" he asked nervously.
Jean swallowed hard, trying not to allow her heart to leap from her chest at his words. "We have dinner together most nights, Lucien," she pointed out.
He explained, "I mean out somewhere. Just you and I. When you're not working and I'm not...distracted."
"I have a feeling you'd be distracted wherever you are," she teased. Despite her cavalier words, her voice came out in breathy nervousness.
He averted his gaze and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. "Jean...I..."
"I would love to go to dinner with you," she interrupted with a smile, hoping that her daring bravery at accepting such an invitation would put them both at ease. How, she could not say.
His face broke into an eager grin, making him look positively boyish, despite his graying beard and the wrinkles around his bright blue eyes. "Oh that's wonderful. How about tomorrow?"
She could not help but smile a bit herself. "That would be very nice, thank you. I'll have to tell Mattie and Danny I won't be cooking..."
"I'll take care of that," he assured her. "You and I can leave at about six, is that alright?"
Jean nodded. "Will you let me know where we're going? I'll need to know how to dress."
"I thought perhaps at the Aria," he offered.
If she had been surprised before, that was nothing compared to her utter panic now. "The…the Aria? Lucien, that's the most expensive restaurant in town!" That particular establishment had been opened only two years earlier, when the Tynemans insisted that Ballarat needed a fine dining restaurant. It was one of only a half dozen places in their small city that had linen tablecloths and a wine list that offered more than just 'red' or 'white.' Jean had never been to the Aria, nor had she ever dreamed that she ever would. It simply was not the sort of place that a farmer's widow turned housekeeper would ever expect to find herself.
Lucien crossed toward her and placed his hands lightly on her upper arms. "I would like to take you somewhere nice. I haven't been there, myself, but whenever I've gone by, I've thought it might be a place to take a beautiful woman. And you are a very beautiful woman, and I'd like to take you there. And as for the cost, Jean, you manage the household books. Do you think I can afford it?"
His light teasing eased her nerves somewhat, making her purse her lips to keep from laughing. "For a special occasion, I think it might fit in the budget."
"I would hope that our first date is a special occasion," he murmured softly. His hands gave her arms a gentle squeeze. "Hopefully the first of many."
"Oh," she exclaimed with a slight gasp. "I…I don't want you to get your hopes up. You might not like me."
Lucien chuckled merrily. "I already like you very much, Jean."
The way he looked at her and touched her, the things he was saying…Jean was starting to feel a bit lightheaded. Thank heavens that the phone rang just at that moment. They both sprang apart, the tension between them evaporating as reality returned. "I'll get that," she breathed, rushing out of the parlor.
When Jean left, Lucien sat back down on the sofa. He sighed happily, letting his head fall back on the edge of the sofa and closing his eyes with a smile. Whatever had possessed him to ask her out in that manner? He thought he'd thoroughly bungled the whole thing and retreated to his study. But this wasn't just any woman he wanted to see socially. This was Jean Beazley. And though he had not known her for very long, he already knew she was quite special. Jean was strong and principled and beautiful, and all of those were things he could see upon his first moments in her presence. And as he spent more and more time with her, tending to his father and getting settled in his new role as country doctor and police surgeon, Lucien came to find that Jean was utterly brilliant, unspeakably kind, and braver than any soldier he'd ever known. He had come to realize that every time he looked at her, he felt immense pride. Pride in all her qualities, pride in getting to call her his friend and confidante, pride in sharing his life with her. And in such musings, Lucien had come to the startling discovery that he wanted much, much more with her than what they now had. Asking her out to dinner was the first step. And it somehow had gone rather well.
"Lucien, that was Chief Superintendent Lawson," Jean said, returning to the parlor.
He lifted his head to look at her. "Oh?"
"There's been a death at a boarding house just outside town. Your services are needed," she told him.
Lucien felt a sinking feeling in his chest. Normally, a new case intrigued and excited him. But now that he actually wanted to spend more time with home, spend more time with Jean, he found he didn't really want to bother. But he had a duty to perform. "Thank you, Jean," he said, hauling himself up off the sofa. "I assume I'll be out most of the afternoon. I should be home for dinner."
"If you think you'll be late, could you please try to call?"
He looked at her and felt a surge of affection. It was all he could do to keep from leaning down and kissing her cheek. "I will try to call," he promised.
Jean handed Lucien his hat and closed the front door behind him. She was alone in the house, finally. Though she did have more work to do, Jean—rather uncharacteristically—decided to put it off. Instead of returning to her dusting and getting started on the vacuuming, Jean hurried up the stairs to her bedroom. She threw open the doors to her wardrobe and scoured her paltry racks of clothes. Tomorrow night, Lucien was taking her to the Aria. And for the life of her, she could not imagine she had anything that would be suitable to wear. There was not enough time to make anything. And she did not have the money to buy a new frock. Surely she must have something!
She was so fixated on trying to find what she could possibly wear to dinner with Lucien that she didn't even hear Mattie come home and call for her till the young woman was in her doorway.
"There you are!"
Jean jumped. "Oh, Mattie, I'm sorry, were you looking for me?"
"Yes, I was going to see if you needed any help with dinner. I finished my rounds earlier than anticipated," Mattie told her.
"I see. Yes, I should…dinner, yes…" Jean stammered, feeling all out of sorts.
Mattie came into Jean's bedroom and saw the dresses strewn about on the bed and over the back of the chair at the vanity. "What's going on here?"
"I'm trying to find something to wear to dinner tomorrow," Jean confessed.
"Have you got a hot date?" Mattie teased.
Jean's silence spoke volumes.
"Oh Jean, that's wonderful! Can I help? Where's he taking you?"
"The Aria," Jean mumbled, feeling nervous and out of place already.
"How very posh," Mattie complimented. "Then in that case, you'll need something really elegant, something to make his eyes bug out of his head when he sees you."
Despite feeling absolutely embarrassed at the whole thing, Jean gratefully accepted Mattie's assistance. The younger woman was quite good at this sort of thing—Jean knew Mattie had quite a lot of practice going out on dates, though she'd never dream of saying anything about it.
Once they'd agreed on the outfit Jean would wear on her date, Mattie finally asked, "Who is it, by the way? The posh man taking you out to the Aria?"
And in a moment's panic, Jean lied, "No one you know. He's not in Ballarat, actually. He wrote me from Mildura a while ago and told me he'd be in town. We went to school together. His name is James."
Mattie smiled, accepting what Jean had told her. "Well, I hope James knows how lucky he is to be getting to take you to dinner, particularly when you're wearing this dress."
Jean just smiled and began putting all her clothes away. She sent Mattie downstairs to begin chopping the vegetables for dinner. Jean would just have to find a way out of this mess. Somehow.