Doing some patchwork/appliqué, thought of this. Knit 1 Purl 1 inspired. Set after the end of season 4.
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Jean stood looking at the pile of fabric at her feet. She had tipped out her scraps; the ones she kept for goodness knows what; onto the floor, having been asked if there was anything she could do to raise money for the orphanage. For the children there she would do all she could, but, even as a staunch Catholic, she found the nuns who ran the place, well, scary!
She thought about a patchwork quilt. She had lots of pieces left over from outfits she had sewn over the years, the bridesmaid's dress she had made for Mattie, dresses she had made for herself, the green one that was her one evening/dinner dress, there was a lot of material. Should she go for squares, that would be easy on the machine, other shapes would have to be worked by hand and would take longer.
She laid out the fabric in colours and tones; looking for those that would complement each other, discarding those odd bits that weren't washable, ever practical!
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Lucien found her crawling over the floor, fabric all around her, light colours one side, dark the other and in the middle his Jean, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. He found the sight endearing and smiled.
'Well, well, well, Mrs Beazley,' he teased, 'what have we here?'
'Oh, Lucien,' she turned, 'I was looking to see if I could make a patchwork quilt to sell or auction for the orphanage. They're having a fundraiser.'
'Well, there's quite a bit of fabric here, you could make several, if you had a mind to.' He grinned.
Kneeling down with her he picked up a scrap of pale blue silk, 'What was this?' He could see it was just her colour, setting off her hair and eyes; she coloured.
'That was my honeymoon nightdress,' she blushed a deep red.
'Exquisite.' He breathed, 'and this?' a scrap of green cotton with a tiny floral print.
'My favourite blouse.' She smiled at the memory, she'd worn that blouse until it fell apart.
'I like you in green,' Lucien held the fabric up to the light.
Jean was becoming flustered, her whole life was spread out before them in scraps of fabric.
'Yes, well,' she straightened, 'this won't get the dinner made.'
As she started to get up from her place on the dining room floor he pulled he back down,
'Charlie can get fish and chips,' he whispered, he wanted to explore more of her in fabric.
She smiled, coyly, 'Alright.' Lucien left her for the few moments it would take him to ring Charlie and ask him to call in at the chip shop on the way home and when he got back she was still sitting, looking at the mess on the floor.
'Isn't that Mattie's dress, for her friend's wedding?' He picked up a piece of a pinkish coloured satin.
'Yes,' Jean grinned.
'What's so funny?' Lucien asked, intrigued.
'She hated it.' Jean laughed at the thought of her friend, Mattie was really a bit of a tomboy. She dressed up when necessary but was happier in a pair of trousers.
'Really, I thought she looked lovely.' Lucien raised his eyebrows.
'She did, but you know Mattie.' Jean chuckled .
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Charlie arrived later to find the doctor and his housekeeper crawling over the dining room floor, surrounded by bits of fabric. Concerned he might be interrupting some form of mating ritual he coughed.
Jean whirled round, 'Goodness, Charlie, what time is it?'
'Six o'clock, just gone,' Charlie said, eyes wide, 'am I interrupting something?'
'No, of course not,' but she wobbled as she stood, a little dizzy from turning and standing so quickly. Lucien reached out and caught her before she fell.
'Oops, got up too quick!' Jean giggled, more at Lucien catching her than being so silly as to leap to her feet when she'd been on the floor for so long. 'Better get some plates out.' She went, matter-of-factly, to the kitchen to set the table so they could eat the fish and chips while they were still hot.
Over dinner Charlie asked what was going on in the dining room, fabric wasn't really the doc's thing, so it was obviously something Jean was planning.
'Oh, the orphanage are having a fundraiser and asked me if I could do anything to sell or auction. I've got so many bits of material I thought I'd make a patchwork quilt.' Jean lightly slapped Lucien's fingers as he stretched to pinch one of her chips, thinking she wouldn't notice while she was talking.
'Sounds like a good idea,' Charlie agreed, 'my mum used to do those. We all had one.'
'Well it used to be a good way of using up bits of fabric, unless they were used for patching up. I did that a lot with the boys when they were young. Jack, in particular, always had a hole somewhere, usually the knees of his trousers!' She smiled at the memory of her tearaway son, sorry that they were no longer close.
Lucien stood up to take his plate to the sink and as he passed her he dropped a kiss lightly on the top of her head. Jean blushed, he never kissed her in front of Charlie. Charlie looked down, a slight smile played at the corner of his mouth, he liked it when he noticed them showing affection. To him it was as it should be, they were obviously in love.
Jean left them to tidy the kitchen for her and returned to her project. She had decided that, as time was short to complete the quilt, she would do squares. Between them she and Lucien had piled the pieces in tones, Lucien, it had to be said, had just put the material where he was told; so now all she had to do was cut the squares and sew them together.
Lucien watched her from the doorway as she cut one square and then others from that. He was amazed at the speed she cut, she soon had different coloured squares piled up on the floor, and she herself was surrounded by little pieces, the trimmings, they were also covering her lap and caught on her cardigan. He smiled, she looked almost childlike, a little girl playing.
'Is there anything I can do?' He asked when she paused, rubbing the back of her neck.
'No, thank you.' She looked up and smiled. 'I think I'll start sewing tomorrow, my neck is beginning to ache.'
Lucien went over to her and offered her his hands. She took hold and he pulled her to her feet, catching her as she wobbled. She placed her hands on his chest shyly, looking into his clear blue eyes.
'Thank you,' she breathed, letting him pull her closer and kiss her, gently on the lips.
'We shouldn't' she whispered, unconvincingly. Lucien just smiled, that small, wicked smile of his, and kissed her again, but deeper this time. She offered no resistance.
As they pulled apart she rubbed her neck again, it really had been a silly position to sit in, head bent forward. Lucien turned her round and put his hands at the base of her neck and slowly began to massage the muscles.
She gave a deep, long, sexy sigh. 'Come and sit down,' he murmured, 'then I can try and loosen up those knotted muscles.' He bent forward and kissed the nape of her neck.
She sat with her back to him and let him push his thumbs into the knots, her head slumped forward so he put one hand under her chin and brought her head to rest on his chest. Her eyes were closed and she groaned in appreciation of the attention. He felt her shoulders drop as she relaxed against him, her breathing slowed and became shallow as Jean drifted into sleep. Lucien buried his nose into her hair, breathing in the scent of Jean, soap and fresh air. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a more comfortable position for them both and he too dozed.
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For the next week, Jean managed to find time to sew the patches together and housekeep, and cook, and see to Lucien's practice. It's fair to say she was burning the candle at both ends and frequently fell asleep in Lucien's arms at the end of the day. Lucien decided he would help if he could, even if it was just to make her endless cups of tea or hand her pieces of fabric when she asked for them. She enjoyed the company while she sewed, surprised that he should want to be involved. Lucien insisted she stopped at a reasonable time in the evening and would massage her tired neck and shoulders until she fell asleep against his chest. He then gently carried her upstairs to her bedroom and would lay her on the bed, covering her with a blanket against the evening chill. On the odd occasion she wasn't actually asleep but secretly like the way he so tenderly made sure she was comfortable. But there were quite a few mornings she woke up fully dressed under the blanket on her bed.
'I need to get some wadding for the quilt,' she said one morning over breakfast, 'can I borrow the car?'
Lucien looked at her, he thought she looked tired, 'Why don't I drive you, I don't have surgery this morning.' He offered.
'Thank you, Lucien, I'd appreciate that.' She smiled. He had been so...so loving and attentive while she did the quilt, it was sweet.
Lucien insisted on paying for the wadding, his contribution, he said.
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Charlie walked into the dining room that evening, he heard laughing and found Lucien and Jean lying side by side on the quilt, in fits of laughter.
Jean sat up, 'Hello Charlie,' she smiled, 'home already?'
'Err...am I interrupting something?' He looked extremely embarrassed.
'Not yet!' Lucien called from where he lay.
'Lucien!' Jean admonished, slapping his leg playfully.
'The quilt's finished then?' Charlie suggested.
'Yes,' Jean confirmed, 'All done.'
'It'll get creased if you're not careful,' Charlie quipped as he turned and escaped before Jean, or Lucien, threw something at him.
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Three months later:
'Be right there!' Jean called. She was dressed for her wedding, a green two piece, fitted jacket and skirt, but just before she left to go to the Registry Office with Charlie as her chauffeur for the day, she had one more thing to do. She went into the bedroom she and Lucien would use from that night and threw a patchwork quilt over the bed. Different to the one for the fundraiser; but handmade, with love.
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It doesn't matter how much of a break I get between sewing, it still gives me a sore neck!