Disclaimer: Don't own the lovebirds, or our very favorite Frenchwoman. Too tired to think of a more interesting disclaimer, as it's four in the morning and I shouldn't even be up this late, much less posting fanfics.
A/N: This is my first Mairelon fic--(dodges computers chucked at her)--wait! I said my first MM fic, not my first fic! Stop! Don't kill me! (hides behind desk)
Anywho...hope you enjoy this! (BTW, if you like my writing and have read one or more of the following: Artemis Fowl, Circle of Magic, or Harry Potter, then you might profit from looking at my author profile.)
Kim was nervous.
Of course, she had seemed to get nervous a lot lately. Ever since she'd met Mairelon, in fact, she had gotten nervous, beginning with the very way in which she met him.
She grinned a little, remembering that meeting fondly. If he hadn't decided, by some leap of logic which she would never quite understand—Mairelon was like that—to take her on as his apprentice, she likely wouldn't have remembered it so fondly. But as things had turned out…really, what did she have to complain about? She had a husband who loved her and whom she loved very much, she was progressing finely in her magical training (which was likely due, at least in part, to said husband being the one teaching her), and she was, if not respected, at least tolerated in Society. Not that she quite liked this last fact, at least not for the reasons one would think. In fact, both she and her husband could have done very well without the arrogant men and prissy ladies of Society. However, she could be glad she was not still living on the streets.
Yet somehow, she was still nervous. Not that she wasn't used to the feeling. After all, she had been this way so many times she could scarcely count them after he had taken her in. During their many adventures, she had been a great deal more than just nervous a considerable number of times. She had been nervous, too, when he had suddenly made up his mind to kiss her after the episode with Mannering (well, who wouldn't have been?) and as she was fitted for bride-clothes (for two reasons: one, that the dressmaker would make a mistake and the clothes wouldn't fit, after, and in spite of, all those hours of scrupulous measuring and such; and two, that Mairelon wouldn't like the clothes). She'd been very nervous on their wedding day, too.
But now she was, she thought, more nervous than she had been on all of these occasions combined. So nervous, in fact, that the feeling could almost qualify as—afraid.
Just as this thought came to her mind, the carriage stopped, and a man's voice said, "We've arrived, mum."
"Thank you, Henry," she said automatically, her mind on the coming task. She made it a point to thank all the servants for whatever tasks they did, as she knew how it felt to be worse off than them and was sure that they weren't thrilled not to be riding or sitting or relaxing themselves, while she did the driving and the housework and such.
"Greetings, Madame Merrill!" came a voice from inside the house, and Kim smiled slightly. She was not used to being called by her husband's name, because she had begged everyone just to call her Kim. She had succeeded with most, but Renée D'Auber was not one to give in to something like that.
"Hello," she said, and before she was given a chance to say any more, she was swept inside by the enthusiastic Frenchwoman.
"Here, let me make us the tea. You English seem to love it, and I have discovered it to be very soothing to the soul. You sit down, here," and, without further ado or another chance for conversation, Kim was sitting in a comfortable chair while Renée bustled about in the kitchen.
Looking around her absentmindedly while she waited, Mairelon's somewhat distressed wife attempted to decide how best to tell her friend about what had happened. 'I've discovered…' sounded too formal a start, and she couldn't blurt it out without any introduction. No, that would never do, as appealing as it sounded. 'Um, uh, um', which she feared was more likely to come out, didn't help any, either, for, as appealing as that sounded, too, it didn't get the task done: namely, to ask Renée for advice on approaching the subject with Mairelon. And Kim was quite determined on getting that advice, because she hadn't the faintest idea how to do it herself.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Miss D'Auber in person, bringing the tea she had brewed and beaming delightedly.
"So, you had something of the importance to tell me?" she asked, setting her tray down and pouring the amber liquid into cups. Kim took hers distractedly, stirring it with the small silver spoon without really noticing.
"Well, yes, and…" she began, cursing herself mentally for not having thought of a better way to start yet.
"And?" prompted Renée after a moment, watching her eagerly.
"And I…er…I need your advice, too…"
"About what?" After a long silence, the Frenchwoman added, "My dear Madame Merrill, do not avoid telling me what you must tell me anyway, for you know I will not let you leave this house until I know what it is you came for."
"Um. Yes. Well…" said Kim, at a complete loss as to how to begin.
"Are you ashamed to let someone hear? Then whisper the story into my listening ear," said Renée, apparently jumping to the conclusion that her friend was ashamed, despite Kim's lack of confirmation of that fact.
"I'm not ashamed," she said, in a feeble attempt to protest. "I'm just…well…all right, then." Perhaps it would be easier this way. Moving over to Renée, she bent and whispered. After a second, a smile grew on the Frenchwoman's face, so bright that Kim, standing up straight again, wondered that it didn't light up the entire room with its radiance.
"But you have been a—how do you say—a buffle-head!" she exclaimed, and Kim had to smile at that. It was so amusing to hear her native words, as it were, said in that French accent.
"This is wonderful!" continued Renée. "You do not have to worry about telling Monsieur Merrill. He will love it, I'm sure!"
"Will he?" asked Kim doubtfully.
"He will be so happy! He will smile—like this!" she said, and displayed her own white teeth in a large grin. Kim grinned back, albeit uncertainly, but that uncertainty was fading. Perhaps he would 'smile—like this', as Renée said so confidently.
"But how do I tell him?" she asked after a moment's consideration.
"Why, just tell him, of course. There is no how, there is only what, which you already know. You English are so complicated," she added, on seeing her friend's somewhat puzzled look. "What should it matter how you tell Monsieur Merrill, when what you're telling him is so much of the importance?"
Kim thought about that. "Um…"
"You see, no? You must just go and say it to him, and not worry about how you say it."
"I suppose…"
"Good. Now, is that all, or is there any more exciting news to tell?"
"No. That's all.'
"All right, then, I shall see you at some later time," said Renée, and a bewildered Kim found herself in her carriage; waving goodbye to her French friend through the window.
Throughout the rest of the day, Kim mulled over what she had been told. Despite the dizzying speed of the encounter, which left her feeling rather confused as to what had actually taken place—although, really, that always happened when she talked to Renée—she did remember what the actual advice had been. 'You must just go and say it to him, and not worry about how you say it.'
Did that mean that what she had been considering before, just blurting it out without any introduction, was, after all, fitting to the situation? Kim wasn't sure, and she stayed unsure for the rest of the day.
Unfortunately, she didn't have all the time in the world to make the decision, and too soon, it seemed, Mairelon came home from his visit with Shoreham, with whom he had been discussing the magical properties of some object or other. Normally, she would have insisted on going too, but she hadn't felt very good that morning, and so had stayed behind. He had been somewhat worried, but she'd remained stubborn in the notion that it was quite normal, and he had gone at last, if somewhat unwillingly, and with many promises on her part that she would send for him if she felt much worse.
"Hello!" he cried joyfully, coming into the kitchen where she sat and making as though to pick her up and whirl her around, along with the chair. Halfway through reaching for her, he remembered her condition that morning, and stopped, looking grave. "Are you feeling all right?"
"I'm fine," she replied, although, in truth, she felt rather ill. This, she had decided, must be a side effect of having to tell him, however, as she had felt fine when she went to see Renée.
"Are you sure? You look a little pale," he told her, peering into her face concernedly.
"I'm all right."
A silence fell after that. Finally, however, Kim broke it, all too aware that she had to say something soon, or she would burst.
"M-Mairelon?" she asked, wishing she hadn't stammered, and wishing even more that she'd not asked at all. The glance he trained on her, while normal, made her heart pound, and not just because of the fact that she loved him.
"What is it, love?" he said.
"I…I have something to…to say."
"Well, that much was obvious," he replied, and she panicked until a smile appeared on his face and she realized he was teasing her.
"Well…I…um…"
"Kim, unless you've broken the law, run away with some other man, or stolen my magic, I'm not going to be angry with you. And in any and all of those cases, I'll love you anyway."
That made her feel a bit better. "Well…see…Mairelon, we're having a baby."
His face turned blank, and he stared. "A what?"
Kim moaned, dropping her face into her hands. "I knew I shouldn't have listened to Renée."
At this, he said, sounding rather startled, "What?"
"Never mind," she mumbled, voice still muffled in her hands.
"But Kim," Mairelon persisted, "you said…"
"That we're having a baby, yes." In for a penny, in for a pound. And I can't take it back now.
After a silence, he said, "Kim…that's wonderful!"
"Yes, and I'm sorry, and…what?" Her head popped up, and it was her turn to stare.
"It's wonderful!" He was grinning now, and she remembered Renée's words and grinned as well. 'He will smile—like this!'
"You…you think it's…good?" she asked after a moment.
"Good!" he cried, now actually picking her up, and the chair, as she had predicted, and swinging her around. "I think it's absolutely, positively, astoundingly perfect!"
"You do?"
"Yes!" His smile grew more amused. "Why? Did you think I'd be angry?"
"Um…"
"You did!" he said, laughing, and put her down. "Well, then you were being a buffle-head!"
"Funny," she muttered. "That's exactly what Renée said."
His only response to that was to draw her close and kiss her.
A/N: Ah, sweet fluff! (grin) Anywho...moving on...
Review please! I had a better way to say that, but killed it by going offline or something, and I'm too lazy to reproduce it. Another time, perhaps...
One more thing. If anyone has read The Beekeeper's Apprentice, etc., would you please tell me so we can talk about it? I've just discovered the series, and I'm in desperate and dire need of obsessing over it to someone who knows what the heck I'm talking about...
Love y'all and BANZAI!!!
hollybridgetpeppermint