"Jean there's something I need to ask you..." Lucien's smile faded on his lips as he saw Jean shake her head, and a look of irritation briefly crossed her face.
"No, don't ask me yet, Lucien. It's too soon - you're still married." Jean turned away from him again and went into the house, leaving him standing rather forlornly on the driveway. Now he was frustrated with himself; his eagerness to persuade Jean to marry him had just backfired badly, and it could be months or even years until the divorce came through.
Sighing, he let himself back into the house and walked through into the kitchen, where Jean stood at the stove, waiting for the kettle to come to the boil. She didn't turn round, but he noticed her hastily wipe her eyes on the hem of her apron.
Lucien sat in his usual seat at the table and waited. When she brought the teapot to the table she kept her eyes averted from him, trying not to let him know she had been crying.
"Jean, come on, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I love you and I want us to be married. But you're right, it's too soon. I'm sorry."
She managed a quick smile and a moment's eye contact that told him she wasn't angry with him, just upset.
"I'm sorry for cutting you off like that, but I didn't want to have to say no. How can I be engaged to a married man? Think what people would say!" Jean managed a rather half hearted laugh.
"Is that any worse than what they say about us now?" Lucien asked, tentatively.
"Lucien, I love you, and I'll marry you as soon as you are free to marry me, but for now I don't want to discuss it any more," She shut down the conversation firmly and poured the tea.
They drank the tea in silence, but after a minute or two Jean reached for his hand and held it, and the tears started running down her face again. This time she didn't try to hide them, and Lucien made no comment, just passed her his handkerchief with his free hand.
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By the time Charlie returned for dinner, the atmosphere in the house had lightened a little, and they all spent a relaxed enough evening together, eating, chatting, letting the tension of the investigation go.
Perhaps for Lucien and Jean it would never be quite the same, nothing would ever be as straightforward as before Mei Lin and Derek Alderton changed their lives forever, but they were grateful to be alive, and together.
Charlie went to bed early and Jean shortly afterwards. As she left, she kissed Lucien goodnight for the first time, just a brief kiss on the lips, then she was gone, and he heard her footsteps heading upstairs.
Lucien sat up for a while with his usual glass of whisky, but he was tired after so many broken and restless nights recently, and soon he headed to bed too.
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Lucien had been in bed for about 10 minutes, and was just beginning to drift away, when he heard a quiet tapping at his door. At first he didn't know what had woken him, or even whether he had really been asleep, but before he could get up, the tapping at the door came again.
"Come in," he said, quietly, and Jean slipped into the room, swiftly shutting the door behind her.
He sat up in bed. "Was I having a nightmare again? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," Lucien apologised.
"No, I wanted to see you," Jean said, looking embarrassed. "I keep thinking about you in that cell, and about Derek Alderton wanting to kill you. I thought I was going to lose you."
Lucien wanted to reach out to her, but his dilemma was that he was in his pyjamas and she was standing there in her dressing gown. She solved the problem by coming and sitting on the edge of the bed, and he held her hand in both of his.
She smiled at him then, and he waited, since it was obvious there was more she wanted to say.
She nervously worried at her bottom lip with her teeth, then took a deep breath.
"It might be years till we can get married, Lucien. Just for tonight, I want to fall asleep in your arms. Just sleep," she added hastily, as she saw his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
Lucien wondered for a moment if he were dreaming; this wasn't the Jean Beazley he knew. The real Jean wouldn't even have come into his room when he was in bed, let alone suggest spending the night together. Would she?
He looked around the room for a moment. No, he was definitely awake, and as he brought his gaze back to Jean he could see she was very nervous of his response.
"Are you sure?" he asked, and when she nodded he shuffled over in the bed to make room for her, not daring to take his eyes off her or even breathe, in case she changed her mind. She took off her dressing gown, and hung it on the back of the door, revealing her ordinary pyjamas underneath. She certainly hadn't come dressed for seduction, and Lucien found he was rather relieved by this.
It showed him that she had meant what she said, they would literally be sleeping together, nothing more. Lucien knew if they did anything more she would only regret it in the morning, and he couldn't face the prospect of having her once, then not again for years perhaps. But he could hold her tonight, and it would be a night he would remember, for however long they had to wait.
Jean lifted up the covers and slid into bed, encouraging him to move over a bit more to make room for her. She lay close to him, but not quite touching, and raised her eyes to meet his. "Do you mind?" she asked.
"Mind?" he chuckled. "I'm still not sure I'm not dreaming!" He slipped his arms around her and pulled her closer, so they were lying face to face, and he kissed her lightly on the forehead. Her feet were cold against his leg and she was shivering slightly, but as they lay still she gradually warmed up, and soon Lucien could tell by her regular breathing that she was asleep.
The delicate lines on her face smoothed out in sleep and Lucien feasted his eyes on her. He had never had the chance to study her as closely as this; he took in every detail of her eyelashes lying in perfect curls, the bow of her lips, and her hair as it fell partly across her cheek.
He resolved not to look any lower than her face but he could feel her breasts soft against his chest and he had to fight to keep his body from responding. As she slept he quietly whispered to her how much he loved her, how sorry he was for all he had put her through, how much he wanted her, that he wanted to tell everyone he loved her, and he hoped to grow old with her. She slept on peacefully throughout, oblivious to all he was saying.
Gradually Lucien grew sleepy, and he turned onto his back, still holding Jean, so she now lay on his chest, her arms spread across him, and her hair falling across his shoulder. He slept, content to have her with him.
Jean woke in the early hours of the morning, momentarily disorientated by the unfamiliar room, and the warm body lying underneath her. She smiled to herself in the darkness as she remembered, and moved away slightly so she was lying on her side, cuddled up to Lucien's side. He slept on, his face relaxed and with a ghost of a smile around his lips.
She watched him sleep, her fingers brushing over his beard lightly, examining his face more closely, seeing his eyes move under their lids as he dreamed.
She murmured to him in the warmth of the nest of blankets around them. She told him she loved him, how afraid she had been that he would be killed, how she had wanted to hold him when they were separated by the cell bars, that she wanted to marry him, really be with him and give herself to him, how she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. He slept on, unaware of her voice.
They both woke again in the dawn, Jean a moment or two before Lucien. She could feel his body's response to her lying against him, and didn't dare to move, hoping he would sleep on. But he stirred in the half light, slowly becoming aware, and then embarrassed, which he covered with a kiss to her cheek, and a sigh, as he rolled away from her.
Jean kissed him on the lips, then got out of bed, slipping on her dressing gown and doing up the ties. She leaned over him for a moment and stroked his hair as it stood up slightly on the top of his head. "Thank you," she whispered. "I'll always remember last night." She left quietly, closing the door gently so as not to wake Charlie.
An hour later, Lucien came to breakfast, wishing Charlie a good morning and touching Jean on the small of her back. She turned from the stove and smiled at him. "Bacon and eggs?" she asked, and they were back to normal, their everyday lives restored.
Lucien drank his tea, chatted to Charlie, and went to work.
Neither he nor Jean spoke of that night ever again, not even years later, when they were married and secure. But it was a night they both thought of often, treasured, and remembered.