A/N: Alright, so I guess I'm moving up the rating to M because there is swearing and blood. Apologies for not noting the range of the rating scale before. I was toying with the idea of making Jane younger, perhaps 19ish, bordering on 20, to fit in with the "oh, she's reaching spinsterhood" stereotype better. Thoughts?
Also, I may rewrite a portion of the first chapter to make sense with Arthur and Jane's friendship. Such as why Momma Watson wouldn't want to hook her up with that fine piece of man. ;) I have a possible theory...
Some time and long conversation later, Jane and Arthur sat on a stone bench near the edge of the Kensington's property, staring up at the starry sky. The party raged on a little ways away, the house still blazing with light. The faint strains of a waltz reached their ears.
"It's so peaceful out here," Jane commented. She breathed in the scent of dewy grass and listened to the muted sounds of the street beyond the hedge. Arthur murmured in agreement. Jane glanced at him from the corner of her eye.
Arthur looked content. He gazed up in wonder at the heavens, his posture relaxed and at ease. The time in India had been good for him, Jane mused. It had allowed him to explore, to discover. It renewed his excitement, the kind living in dreary London drained from many enthusiasts. Jane was afraid her friend would throw away all his potential by following society's plan for him.
"Arthur, I want you to promise me something," Jane commanded, looking at him head-on.
"Oh? And what, pray, would that be?" Arthur met her eyes. His twinkled with mischievousness and exuberance - the eyes of a young man who is truly alive, not caged.
"Promise you won't let them take away who you are. No matter what happens in the future, swear to me you won't ever stop wondering," Jane said seriously.
"Hey, what's wrong? Momma Watson threatening your future again?" Arthur straightened, trying to lighten the mood.
"Please, Arthur. Promise at least one of us will get to live our dreams," Jane ignored his questions.
"I promise," Arthur replied, all joking disappearing from his tone. "But it'll be tough. Father still dreams of me running his business in a few years. He's more lenient than your mother though. What happened?"
Jane sighed. "She changed the locks on the library and said I'd lose all my books if the lock was tampered with. She really wants me married and out of the house. I've almost reached the scandalous age of spinsterhood, you know," Jane told him.
"At 23? Please," Arthur rolled his eyes in the dim light from the street lamps.
"And God forbid I get an actual job," Jane muttered in frustration. "Why is she always against me at every turn?"
"You know she just wants the best for you," Arthur interjected quietly.
"You sound just like the lot of them!" Jane cried, sending an accusatory glare at him.
"Jane, listen to me," Arthur grabbed her hand. Jane frowned. She extremely disliked those people who said what she strived for - knowledge - was not a respectable goal for a woman. Why would Arthur side with them? Her mother wanted her bored and imprisoned to a husband, not happy. "I just think-"
Arthur's line of reasoning was cut off by a gunshot. The noise came from beyond the edge of the Kensington's property, in the street. Both Arthur and Jane froze for a moment. The sound of running footsteps in the sudden quiet caused Jane to start.
"Arthur, that sounded close," Jane half-whispered. She was off the bench and halfway to the garden gate before Arthur could stop her.
"Jane," Arthur warned, following his friend. Jane quietly unlocked the gate and crept out onto the gaslit cobblestones. "What if he's still out there?"
"He's not," Jane scoffed. "Whoever ran away wasn't hindered by any physical wounds. There may be someone dying out there though. And my curiosity won't be sated until we at least look," Jane continued, completely exiting the Kensington estate. Arthur followed her silently as she neared the dark alleyway across the street.
"Damnit!" A man swore from the shadowy depths. Jane stepped further into the alley. Arthur grabbed her arm.
"You don't know if he's armed," Arthur whispered.
"He sounds like he's injured," Jane muttered. A few grunts and more curses spewed from the mysterious man.
"Come to finish me off, have you?" The voice returned, obviously catching sight of the two lurking at the alley mouth. It was gruffer now, the speaker in pain.
"I'm going in," Jane told Arthur, wrenching her arm out of his grip and disappearing out of the street light's glow. Arthur watched her in shock for a moment, then followed suit.
Jane's eyes adjusted relatively quickly to the twilight haze, but she almost tripped over the man a few steps in. She stumbled, only to find herself suddenly on the ground with a half-crouched man over her. A sharp blade lay cool against the skin of her neck. For two beats, they stared at each other, breath beginning to puff in the cool night air, sizing each other up.
"I dare say, you're not the fellow who shot me," the man exclaimed, surprise coloring his voice. He removed the knife and was rocking back on his heels when Arthur appeared.
"I should think not," Jane replied, pre-empting Arthur's certain stream of questions. "I heard the shot and came to investigate."
Even though the man's face was still obscured, Jane sensed he didn't expect a woman of all people, to come running to his aid. Her lips pressed into a firm line, she continued: "And I'm positive if you don't let me look at your leg right away, you will bleed out right here in this very alley. "
"Spot on, m'dear. I do believe he may have nicked an artery…" the man swayed from blood loss, collapsing heavily into the wall.
"Arthur, quick, ring a doctor," Jane ordered.
"And what, leave you here alone? Are you mad?" Arthur knelt next to the two.
"Arthur, he will die if you don't. I think his femoral artery damaged. Please, Arthur!" Jane pleaded. Arthur hesitated a moment, then ran off into the street. Jane focused back on the man.
"I am rightfully sorry about this sir, but I'm going to have to rip up your shirt," Jane mumbled. She reached under his jacket, grasping the edge of the man's shirttails. "Sorry."
A few strips of fabric later and Jane had a tourniquet around his leg about the wound and was putting pressure on it to halt the flow of blood.
"Stay with me, fella," Jane demanded, using her free hand to check the guy's pulse. It was sluggish, but definitely there. He could do little but sit there and stare at her, losing energy to do anything else.
"What's your name, I wonder?" Jane murmured. The man purposefully did not answer. Jane raised an eyebrow, but fell silent. The sound of running footsteps and horse shoes clanging on stone announced Arthur's return with the doctor.
"He's losing consciousness and possibly has a severed artery," Jane told the sprightly old man who jumped out of the carriage. The doctor immediately checked the man's pulse and how the tourniquet held up. "He's also lost a lot of blood."
"About how long after he was shot did you get here?" The doctor asked, ordering Arthur to help him transport the man into the carriage.
"Not too long. A couple moments at most. He was still talking when we arrived," Jane responded, twisting her hands nervously. "Will he be alright?"
The doctor paused, looking at Jane curiously. "Yes ma'am. I do believe you got there just in time. Great tourniquet too," he replied and then took off, racing towards his house.
"Oh Arthur, I hope he's okay," Jane sighed. She looked at her hands, covered in blood. "Fantastic."