II:

Jean was dusting when Anna arrived, and, as such, was not the first to get to the door. Lucien beat her to it, and flung it open with gusto. "Can I help you?" he inquired.

"Oh – you must be the son," Anna said with a cheerful kind of sarcasm. "You do look a bit like Thomas."

Jean gently pushed past Lucien and murmured, "Anna, darling, you've had rather a long journey – won't you come in and have a cup of tea?" She gently enveloped Anna in a hug and smiled sadly, hoping that she wouldn't be offended by the lack of a kiss, then thought better of it and pressed a tender kiss to her cheek.

Anna smiled back, then relaxed her tense stance. "Ah, Jeanie, love, you know I just need somewhere to rest these old bones for a moment," she said softly. "How are your boys?"

"Fine – now come in and have a cuppa," Jean insisted. "Lucien, will you join us for a cup of tea? It's nearly lunchtime, but I can stretch to biscuits." She smiled winsomely at him. "This is Anna – Anna Martin." She knew the picture they presented, arms wrapped around each other, joyously clinging to one another and giddy with smiles, and she could not fault him for the confused look upon his face.

"No, I'll… let you two catch up," he said, guiding them inside with all the manners of a gracious host, then shutting the door behind them. "It seems that I am quite surplus to requirements."

Anna laughed and said, "Ah, but I'm sure a handsome gentleman such as yourself can find some way to occupy yourself for a while until lunch is ready."

"Anna, don't tease," Jean scolded.

"I'll take your things upstairs," Lucien said, retreating with Anna's luggage.

"Well, he's… not at all what I expected," Anna commented wryly as Jean pulled her into the kitchen.

"Nor I," Jean admitted softly. "But he's a good sort, once you get past… well, everything." She smiled softly and whispered, "I missed you."

"Jean, darling –"

"No, I did," Jean insisted very gently. "I'm very glad to see you."

"You say that, but nothing has changed between us – has it?" Anna asked, leaning in to kiss Jean's forehead before she retreated in search of the tea leaves. Everything was in the same place it had always been, and she found everything she needed to make a pot of tea easily by rote. "I love you so much, Jean… and you'll never leave Ballarat, so that leaves us both unhappy."

Jean hesitated for a moment, then whispered, "I'm thinking… about leaving with you." It was difficult to give the words voice, to let them leave her lips, to find a home in the world when they had only been an abstract cloud of jumbled thoughts only moments before. But they were a semblance of truth; she could not stay if Lucien left, and if he stayed and things went sideways, where would that leave her? Caught in the crossfire.

Anna set the sugar bowl on the counter with a clatter. "What?"

"When you go home… I might go with you," Jean said, a bit more firmly, the words picking up traction.

"Oh, Jeanie – don't tease," Anna whispered. "Please don't say that if you don't mean it."

"I do," Jean said, getting the biscuit tin down. "I think… now may be the time for me to leave Ballarat. Thomas is gone, my boys have gone off, and I don't honestly think that Lucien is going to stay. And even if he did, he wouldn't need me to stay on as housekeeper, I don't think." She hesitated a moment, biting her lip and then she exhaled roughly. "Besides, it might be nice to do something just for myself for once."

Anna chuckled and leaned in to give her a peck on the cheek. "But it wouldn't just be for you, would it?" she murmured. "It would be for us."

Jean blushed and smiled. "Yes," she agreed. "Us." It felt nice to belong to a couple again, even if it was just in the abstract, even if it was only in her own imagination, if only for a moment or two. Anything to not feel the crushing pain of loneliness nipping at her heels again. "Queensland?"

"Oh, yes – I've got a job at a resort hotel on the coast," Anna said. "They're always looking for staff. You'd have a job straight off if you applied, I'm sure. And my position is live-in, so I've got a little bungalow, and we could share." She was smiling, the gesture taking years off her careworn face.

She hadn't changed much since she had left; her hair was still brown, shot through with golden highlights from time spent in the sun, a heavy covering of freckles across her cheeks, nose, and forehead, and piercing hazel eyes. But she had aged, the bowing of her shoulders becoming more pronounced with her age – past fifty now – and the sway of her hips slowing as her knees pained her more. Jean found that she still loved Anna just as much now as she had then – with all the tenderness she could muster, and all the soft desire she had hidden away from the world, and she knew that in fairness to herself, she could not decide in a few minutes what path she should be on.

"That sounds lovely," Jean said, watching as Anna made their pot of tea.

"Certainly better than this," Anna said, gesturing around them. "Speaking of – he isn't what I expected. Young Dr. Blake, I mean."

"Oh, believe me when I say that I understand that sentiment without reservation or hesitation," she countered with a laugh. "I mean, just last night –" Jean stopped herself short and looked away in a hurry, a flush coloring her cheeks.

Only the night before, he had awakened her in the middle of the night, his cries echoing in the darkness of the house until she rose from her bed in a state of panic. She sought him out to soothe him back into sleep, attempting to assuage the nightmares that plagued him, but he had jerked awake at her touch and stared at her in the darkness like a wild thing.

There was something so vulnerable, so fragile between them in that moment that she could hardly have named it – but she hoped that it could have been some kind of trust.

"What happened last night?" Anna said quietly.

"Hmm?"

"Jean."

Jean pursed her lips together and sighed. "Nothing happened."

"You've always been a very bad liar, Jean," Anna accused, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the countertop. "Did he… do something? Untoward, I mean?"

"Anna, no – Lucien hasn't done anything untoward," Jean said firmly. "He's just… rash and impulsive and he doesn't care how anyone else sees him. That's all."

"Jeanie, it's me you're talking to," Anna said. "Don't."

Jean reached past her to grab the teapot and pour their tea. "Enough, Anna – we're done with this conversation," she said with what she hoped would pass for an air of finality. "Nothing happened. You're making something out of nothing." She pasted on a smile and passed over a steaming cup of tea. "I won't insult you by thinking your drink preference hasn't changed."

"No milk, four sugars," Anna replied. "It hasn't changed."

Jean smiled, wrinkling her nose and laughing. "How can you drink that much sugar in your tea?" she asked. "It's dreadful."

"Oh, it's wonderful," Anna chuckled back. "You just don't know how to have fun, Mrs. Beazley."

"That's not fair," Jean protested softly. "I can think of a few things we've done that were really quite enjoyable." She leaned in and breathed the barest hint of a feather-light kiss against Anna's lips. She pulled back quickly when she heard Lucien's footfalls in the corridor, and everything in the kitchen went back to a normal, relaxed mode. "I was thinking we would have sandwiches for lunch," she said as he came in. "There is leftover beef from the roast last night, and I can flash fry some hot chips."

"That would be lovely, Jean, but you needn't go out of your way for me," Anna said.

"Lucien?" Jean said.

"Honestly, whatever you want to make will be fine – I'll be in the study sorting through paperwork this afternoon, anyway," Lucien said with a frown. "Is there enough tea for –"

"Yes, of course," Jean replied, automatically giving him the cup she hadn't quite gotten around to fixing for herself. "Will you want my help this afternoon or…?"

"Oh, no, it's just some things the solicitor needs worked through," Lucien said, straightening his waistcoat. "Nothing to worry yourself over at all, Jean. You and Mrs. Martin should go out and enjoy the day –"

"It's going to rain," Jean pointed out.

"Ah, well… maybe stay in and enjoy the day, then," he said.

"I'll finish the dusting," Jean said, "and the silver needs polishing. And the mirrors cleaned."

"Surely not all today," he said.

"If not today, when?" she shot back, one hand finding her hip automatically as she squared off with him yet again.

It was a challenge, raw and firm, and though she'd laid down the gauntlet, he was eyeing her with all the wariness of the wild-eyed animal he had been the night before. As if she had pushed him into a corner he didn't fathom how to retreat from again.

As if she were an enemy he did not know how to wage war against in the first place.

"Tomorrow?" he said.

"Dr. Blake, I am employed to keep your father's – your – house," Jean said, stumbling over the words, invalidating her own argument without any effort at all. "Please allow me to do my job."

"Don't mind me," Anna quipped, sipping her tea, "I'll just watch you two fight it out. And if the house is still standing, I'll take a nap when you're finished."

Lucien jerked his thumb in Anna's direction casually and said, "I like her."

"Oh, well, that's good to hear," Jean said, her tone dripping with scathing sarcasm. She turned on her heel and stormed to the refrigerator to retrieve the roast, then slammed it onto the cutting board with gusto. She sharpened her knife and sliced the roast thinly enough for sandwich cuts, and piled them onto a plate, glaring at her de facto employer whenever she raised her eyes from the task at hand. He was watching her, raptly, a little smirk on his lips, and she wanted to slap the smile right off of his face. After what had happened in the middle of the night –

Jean sliced a tomato and plucked some lettuce leaves from the produce bin, and got the bread and mustard pot from the countertop. In only a few more moments, fully formed sandwiches lay before her, ready for the eating. "If anyone is hungry, lunch is served," she commented. "And I will be in the sitting room, finishing the dusting."

Better to be busy than to dwell on the way he had spun her out of control, taking her so far beyond her realm of comfort that she feared she would never regain her footing again. Lucien had unsettled her completely this time, and she wanted safety, surety, and comfort in the wake of having been shaken so much. And yet…

As much as she wanted to turn tail and run to the relative safety of Anna's familiar embrace, she knew, if given the choice, she would probably march straight up to Lucien instead and demand the satisfaction she was due.

And that terrified her.

Because if he had proven anything last night…

Jean inhaled deeply and sneezed as she dislodged the thin layer of dust with her feather duster.

He had proven that she was due far more than she had ever believed.

TBC...