DISCLAIMER: I don't own All Creatures Great and Small. Just borrowing the characters for a little while.
A/n: Evening all! Here is the last chapter in this fic. We have finally arrived at Pumphrey Manor. I know many of us have imagined Siegfried taking Mrs Hall out for a dance - this is my little contribution. Can't believe I let this poor fanfic sit in my drafts for a whole year! Thank you so much for all your comments! They really make my day 😊 Please do read and review if you have the time. As always, enjoy x
CHAPTER 4
Despite Siegfried's insistence to the contrary, they had been only a little late upon arriving at Pumphrey Manor. Tricki Woo himself had been the first to greet them on the driveway, weaving between their legs and barking happily before pattering off in search of his magnanimous owner. Music emanated from the grand old house, echoing out across the green and enthralling those who could hear it, telling of times gone by.
Any recollection of previous apprehension was all but forgotten as the veterinarian offered his companion his arm, but Mrs Hall had not quite set her own qualms aside, and she stopped beside him, seeking to unclasp her hand.
"Mr Farnon-"
"You look lovely," he said before she could utter anything further, the words passing his lips with ease now, hoping to assuage whatever it was she feared. And though she smiled, blushed, almost, it only seemed to make matters worse.
"It's not that. It's..."
She trailed off, shook her head, turning to look out into the night. Keenly he missed the comforting sensation of her arm in his as it fell to her side. And he wondered how long this one solitary thought had mithered her, and why, on the lamp-lit steps of Pumphrey Manor, it had only now begun to make its way to the surface.
"You know as well as I what people might think." Her eyes searched his, curiously anxious, more so than she had been before they left the Alderson's. "Are you sure this isn't..." The word sounded strained on her lips. "Improper?"
"I don't suppose we would be here if it was," Siegfried answered with purposeful tenuity, despite perfectly understanding the severity of the implication.
"Even if you're my employer." She met his look with one of perplexing unease. "And I your housekeeper?"
Instinct demanded he fold her hand in his, but the uncertainty in her gaze stalled any abrupt movement. A strange tangle of emotion caught in his throat as he recalled many an authoritarian speech on the necessary line that separated them. A line that should never be crossed, not under any circumstances, and yet had blurred and almost dwindled away these past few months. Ever so gradually it had bent and twisted beneath the sensitivities of their friendship, beneath the affection that he bore and the compassion she breathed. And now, he realised, it might all but threaten to break entirely.
"We are more than that, Mrs Hall," Siegfried spoke at last. "Are we not?"
He caught her smile, a sparkling expression revealed by the slight flickering of the lamps illuminating the stone steps. Yet still she worried, tugging at the ring of gold concealed beneath her glove.
"I assure you no one will think anything untoward," the veterinarian continued. "And if they do, I shall soon put it right. We are friends, after all. I won't allow your reputation to be tarnished by idle gossip."
"It weren't only mine I were worried about," she whispered.
Shaking his head softly at her admission, Siegfried again offered her his arm. A resolute gesture she could not refuse.
"You are allowed to enjoy yourself, Mrs Hall, and tonight I insist on it." He grinned foolishly as she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow, and the faint lines of worry beneath her eyes disappeared. "Now, we really must cease all this dilly-dallying. We're late enough as it is."
"Aye, so you keep saying."
"I keep saying it, Mrs Hall," Siegfried bristled, "because it is true. And you know how much I despise-"
"-despise impunctuality," she finished. "Yes, Mr Farnon. I had heard."
Coats unbuttoned, gloves removed, they made their way down the affluent, welcoming hallways of Pumphrey Manor. He with experienced confidence; she with a little more quiescence. Drawn toward the gentle buzz of lively conversation. Tricki soon returned, waddling around them, preceding the arrival of their hostess.
Half-expecting some form of disapproving observation when it came to his attire, Siegfried's apologies were naturally abundant, but Mrs Pumphrey made no comment on the matter and went as far as to insist they weren't nearly as late as he thought.
"The dancing hasn't begun quite yet, Mr Farnon," the lady smiled, promising the veterinarian a slow waltz of his choice. And then, after taking a generous sip of wine and moving on to greet her other guests: "Now, I expect to see you both on the dancefloor at some point this evening. Tricki, I'm afraid, will absolutely insist upon it, won't you, darling?"
Tricki Woo barked his affirmation.
Upon reaching for his pocket watch, Siegfried found the hour had hardly struck half past seven. That they really had arrived near enough on schedule. That all his worrying, all his rushing about, stumbling through mud and tripping over coat stands, and driving a little too fast over the gravel driveway of the Manor - it had all been for nought.
To say he was flabbergasted was an understatement.
"Since you'd forgotten Mrs Pumphrey's invitation," Mrs Hall informed him in her usual practical tone that fell somewhere between scolding and teasing, "I had the good sense to fish it out from underneath this week's paperwork and confirm the time of arrival."
"You mean to say...? You mean you've known all along that we were perfectly well on time?" Siegfried blinked in astonishment. "For goodness sake. Why on earth didn't you say so, Mrs Hall?"
His vexatious exclamations, however, were soon waylaid. For there again was that stifling heat around his collar, warmth blooming unbidden across his cheeks as she titled her head to observe him.
"We were having an adventure, weren't we?"
"Yes," he breathed quietly, recollecting himself. "I do believe we were."
The events thereafter, Siegfried was certain, would have gone rather splendidly had he not relinquished her company and promised to fetch a refreshing beverage.
Fate, it appeared, was determined still to deprive him of an enjoyable evening.
He was just returning to the ballroom, a pair of champagne flutes in hand, when a familiar face sprung around the corner. A sinking sensation, followed by a knowing dread, churned his stomach. He'd downed the first glass by the time George Pandi had cornered him into a conversation. The second, necessity dictated, was made to last.
Little by little the music faded in his ears, the couples on the dancefloor mere ghosts in comparison to the luminous apparition before him. Every so often, at the edge of the crowd, he caught a glimpse of her: the gentle curl of a loose lock against her shoulder, or the glittering shimmer of her dress. But not once did she catch his hopeful, spellbound gaze.
Half an hour in, Siegfried began to wonder whether he should simply concoct some plausible excuse and make a speedy exit. The only problem was that George had already heard every vague and ill-conceived apology under the sun.
Hope came at last in the form of none other than Mrs Pumphrey herself. She seemed to glide across the room towards him, evading the dancers and those in search of superfluous conversation with effortless ease. Glass of wine in hand, she all but declared her need of his immediate assistance and thus released him from George's company.
"Mr Farnon," she began in a low, conspiratorial tone once they had retreated to a less crowded space. "I do believe there's a lady in the far corner in need of rescuing. I don't suppose you would care to intervene?"
His gaze followed hers, moving past the sea of tailored suits, immaculate bowties and flowing dresses to the open balcony doors. With his reputation, Mrs Pumphrey could have been referring to any of the women present who were in dire need of enjoyable conversation. But there, on the threshold, illuminated by the glow of an early spring moon, was the woman he'd spent half the evening searching for.
The woman who had steadily eased her way into the crevices of his heart and enchanted his very soul.
"It would be an honour, Mrs Pumphrey."
Dismissed with a pat on the shoulder, Siegfried plucked up an extra glass from a passing waiter and skirted around the edge of the dancefloor. Eyes flicked in his direction, warm, curious, no doubt wondering why the local veterinarian was avoiding the centre of the party, and why he had not yet found himself a dance partner.
There was a man standing beside her, pleasant enough in appearance, but a great conversationalist he clearly was not. For not once did he see her expression lighten, nor the man give any indication he was talking with her rather than at her. With a close eye the veterinarian regarded the other fellow: a steady stance, and a proud but kindly face. He was talking of the upcoming races, the fine stallion he was betting on. An unlikely choice with little chance of winning when compared to the other competitors, but Siegfried had not the gall to tell him as much.
"Mr Ellerby, isn't it?" The veterinarian took the first available opportunity to interrupt the flow of conversation, all chivalrous affability. "Siegfried Farnon. Local veterinarian. I believe Mrs Pumphrey has been looking for you."
At the mention of their host's name the man's eyes lit up, his easy posture straightening into one of great self-importance. A quick adjustment of his tie, a murmured excuse, and he was off across the room in a flash.
Setting the bubbling wine in his housekeeper's hands, Siegfried took a swig from his own glass and watched with great amusement as Mrs Pumphrey almost instantaneously introduced Mr Ellerby to another acquaintance. He must have appeared a little too pleased with himself for Mrs Hall was looking at him quizzically.
"What were all that about?"
"I was told to come and rescue you."
"Oh?" Her suspicious tone was betrayed by the amusement glimmering in her eyes. "Whatever from?"
"A rather dull conversation from the sounds of it," Siegfried replied smartly, garnering a half-disapproving smile which she casually concealed behind her glass. "Though I shan't claim mine to be any better. We both know I can be somewhat..."
The appropriate term escaped him. He half-expected her to finish his sentence, as was her way, but Mrs Hall continued to wait, eyebrows lifted, looking at him with that same infuriating air of expectancy.
"Difficult," he decided, "at times."
"You have your good days and your bad days, Mr Farnon. Same as the rest of us."
He chuckled, but the clouds of frustration had not yet dissipated from his mind. Mrs Hall shivered lightly.
Cresting against the panes of the open balcony doors, the night air was cool and sobering, enfolding them in moment after timeless moment where hues of silver and soft gold intertwined. Where elbows touched and glances were stolen, and heartfelt smiles were barely obscured by the fizz of champagne.
"Are you quite warm enough, Mrs Hall?" Siegfried asked, moving a little nearer.
"I am a bit cold," was her quiet admittance, and she smiled thankfully when he offered his arm and began a slow walk around the edge of the ballroom.
"I fear I've been unforgivably neglectful this evening," the veterinarian confessed.
"You needn't apologise for enjoying yourself."
"Well, that's the thing, you see," he replied seriously. "I wasn't. Enjoying myself, that is. Pandhi caught me and there was little to no chance of escape. I don't think I've heard quite so many veterinary success stories in so short a space of time. In fact, he was so full of high praise for his latest assistant there really was no stopping him. He must have gone on about it for half an hour at least."
"Oh dear," Mrs Hall sympathised.
"Still. It's good George has found a good assistant for his practice," Siegfried acknowledged, though his own pride would not be tampered. "It's about time we had a worthy rival in the business. If Mrs Pumphrey hadn't found the opportune moment to whisk me away who knows what might have happened."
At home his patience was shorter than the pastry she made on Sundays; at parties and other inescapable formal events it was stretched to unhealthy lengths. But reputation was everything, and George's seemingly fantastical tales were something he was willing to endure for the sake of maintaining his otherwise charming image.
Sipping his champagne, Siegfried caught a flicker of wistfulness in his housekeeper's gaze and he stopped too to watch the twirling couples on the dancefloor.
"You know, Mrs Pumphrey will have my head if I don't ask you at least once."
She cast him a dubious look.
"Ask me what?"
Studying her face, Siegfried dared to step a little closer - as close as polite society permitted between friends - intent on committing the moment, every colour and movement, to memory.
"Mrs Hall?"
"Yes?"
Skepticism met with anxious anticipation. Perhaps it was only the coolness of the evening that prompted a wave of heat to tug at his collar. Perhaps it was the three glasses of champagne he'd so eagerly indulged in that caused his heart to skip for one glorious moment.
"Would you care to dance?"
Her features, as he'd hoped, drew into a brilliant smile. Eyes bright, harbouring a delicate shyness.
"I'm afraid the invitation is long overdue," he added timidly.
Mrs Hall looked at him with one of her ever-indeterminable expressions for what could only be described as an eternity. Neither scrutinising, nor longing, but rather as if she were unearthing some long-forgotten part of his soul. The part he had attempted, and failed, to bury. The part that enjoyed living life to the fullest - as he had done all those years ago.
"I would, Mr Farnon," she said softly.
And as her hand slid into his, Siegfried found he didn't mind sharing a glimpse of that old, forgotten part of himself with her. If only for one dance. If only for one wonderful evening.
Arm outstretched, he took pride in leading her onto the dancefloor, entirely oblivious to the wondering stares of those who knew him. In one elegant move he twirled her into his embrace, and all else simply melted away.
"You'll have to forgive me," Mrs Hall whispered as his hand came to rest on the small of her back. "I'm a little out of practice."
Siegfried smiled gently, holding her close.
"Just follow my lead."
It was with a pleasant degree of satisfaction that Mrs Pumphrey watched the veterinarian and his housekeeper waltz across the floor. She could hardly remember the last time she had seen two dance partners so entirely enchanted with one another. Him: as charming and gallant as ever. Her: graceful and composed.
It came as no surprise that, once the first dance was over, they returned for a second not ten minutes later. And this the man who had never, not in all the many years he had been in Darrowby, danced with a lady twice in one evening.
"There now," Mrs Pumphrey declared. "Didn't I tell you, Tricki?"
From his plush pillow, the small Pekingese looked up at his mistress with wide eyes, his nose coated in whipped cream and sugar, and barked heartily in agreement.
