Chapter Text
“How is he doing?”
“Should you not be in there with your mentor to find out for yourself?”
Jonathan Fanshawe stood behind the large house, staring out towards the small pond that lay at the far end of the grounds when the eldest daughter came out to hang laundry. He was still very green in his teachings of medicine. He had been to visit the Magnus family with his mentor. The doctor made regular visits to check on their son, Jonah. The child had been sickly since infancy and his widowed father feared for his heir.
Weak lungs.
“While I am traveling to learn, sometimes he wishes to deal with a patient in private, Miss Magnus.”
He dared to steal a glance at her. And like always, he found her watching him. From the first time they met, she was always looking at him with those pale eyes. He couldn’t figure out what she was seeing. It was unnerving. But he found himself drawn. Perhaps because she spoke to him at all.
“How considerate of you." She didn’t even try to look apologetic at being caught moving to check the tension of the ropes that were hung between two trees. She seemed satisfied as she began to hang clothes on it to dry, moving an overturned bucket with her to stand on so she may reach.
“Besides,” began Jonathan, forcing himself to look back to the pond. It was improper for him to stare at her back for so long. Even if it was to admire her strength and discipline, doing chores that should have been left for servants. Servants they no longer had, it seemed.
Land rich and money poor, so it seems.
“You are by his side often, are you not? You would know more than I how his condition fares day to day.”
She looked over her shoulder, but not at him. No. It was as if she were looking through him into the building. Into the room where her brother lay. The wind combed its fingers through her red curls and for the briefest moment her eyes were obscured.
Finally, she took a shaky breath. “He’s not getting better.” The words were heavy on her tongue. “I admire your teacher, Mr. Fanshawe, I do. But I do not believe it is helping.”
Jonathan saw her lower lip tremble and she looked away from him again, returning to her work. He stepped forward, rolling up his shirtsleeves. “Here, let me help-”
“No.” Her voice was tight and he could hear her swallowing heavily. “No- It is… It is already improper for me to speak with you like this. I could not accept your help.”
Of course. The rules of polite society that dictated all. That hung over the heads of even this poor family that was going through so much. Of people that had been pulling away from society for years.
“How old are you now, five and ten?” Jonathan asked, ignoring that she declined his offer. She did not have much left, and she was nearing the highest points of the rope. He could reach that much easier.
“Seven and ten,” she corrected, reaching to grab a garment from him.
Oh. He had been hoping she was younger. If she was younger, it would not be so ‘inappropriate’ for she would be just a child. She looked younger. Or maybe she was just smaller. Built like a bird. He sighed, knowing comparing her to such did her a disservice. Just as it was a disservice he did not truly know her name. But her father never called her by name. Never talked to her. Never so much as gave her a glance. He remembers asking her name once, but it was said so softly and he was too embarrassed to ask her to repeat it.
“I think it will be fine if we finish this quickly. No one will know. Your secrets are always safe with me,” he said as he moved in front of her, to show that he was pulling down the rope a bit for her.
Those eyes were looking at him again. He could see them searching his face for something. Finally, she relented and allowed him to help.
When all was hung to dry, she grabbed her buckets to move them closer to the building so the wind would not cause them to roll away. Jonathan was fixing his cuffs, to allow her to walk inside first. And then he would follow at a respectable distance.
It was well timed. His teacher, Dr. Erskine was leaving little Jonah’s room. The father was following him out. Jonathan didn’t dare ask, he could tell by the looks on their faces.
Jonah was not getting better.
“I will need to go back into town to get supplies. I can bring more medicine within the week,” said Erskine, as he went to grab his coat. “Someone needs to stay with him to make sure he drinks his fluids.”
The daughter, hovering by the door, watched. Listened. They shared a look and he desperately wanted to tell her it would be alright.
But Jonathan Fanshawe was not a liar.
So he said nothing, and he and his mentor went along their way. There was one more family to look in on before the sun set.
They returned some days later, and Jonathan did not have high hopes. He had discussions with the doctor about the boy’s condition. To learn how to aid, to learn how to spot what ailed him. And to learn how he could face the daughter the next time they met. He could not look her in the eye as they walked into Jonah’s room.
Jonathan was allowed to stand to the side while Dr. Erskine worked, to watch. To learn. To be instructed to grab things out of his bag when told. The daughter stayed in the doorway, unable to fully leave her little brother’s side.
The boy was very young, possibly no more than ten. He had the same red hair, and Jonathan was sure if his eyes were open they would be the same piercing gray of his sister’s. Possibly from their mother.
He breathed as if each one clawed at his lungs, ragged and wheezing. He didn’t even seem to be aware of anyone in the room with him.
When they left the room, his sister was in there once again. Sitting in a chair and watching him. Jonathan stopped just out of the room to look in, to memorize this moment of the siblings. Of a bond he would not know, being the only child in his own.
He noticed, as he stared instead of listening to what his mentor was saying to the father, that her hair seemed shorter. What fell past her shoulders the other day now just barely touched her collarbone. Perhaps she pinned it in a different way. It wasn’t anything remarkable, just odd.
He shouldn’t have been looking at her so often to notice.
In lieu of proper payment, doctor and apprentice were invited for dinner and offered a bed for the night. It was accepted, as such things would be when the purse strings were tight. The food was nothing to crow about, but it was filling. And this allowed the two of them to check on Jonah in the evening before retiring.
Still she was in there. She was sitting on the floor now, to be more comfortable while she held her brother’s hand as he slept. Her eyes never left his face, not even as Jonathan walked to the other side of the bed to check his pulse and his temperature.
He wished her a good night as he left the room, leaving the candle he carried on the table for her. Plus an extra. She did not look at him, did not respond.
It was past midnight when the house awoke to her screams.
He tripped in the darkness of an unfamiliar room, following the sound of hurried footsteps back towards the child’s room.
She was standing, her entire frame trembling with fear. Her fingers flexed and she couldn’t decide to hold them to herself for comfort or to reach out to her brother.”He stopped breathing! And he-”
She screamed again as the boy convulsed, trying to gasp for air, his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He was turning a sickly shade.
Jonathan froze. He could read all the texts he wished and listen in on every patient conversation. But nothing prepared him for moments like this.
“Get her out of here,” Erskine hissed as the father rushed in.
And so he did. He wrapped an arm around Miss Magnus’s waist and started to pull her out of the room. She fought, and he could not blame her. She fought and called for Jonah and reached out towards his bed. But Jonathan was stronger than she was, and he dragged her out.
Not once did her wide and terrified eyes leave the door. They stayed locked on the thrashing boy.
Jonathan knew he should have pulled her into another room. Into the kitchen or even as far as to take her outside. But they stayed there. They stayed and they watched.
They watched Jonah Magnus die.
It was too late when he realized. “Don’t look-” he turned his body to face her away from the door. And he felt her turn in his arms, and he knew she was staring over his shoulder. Nails dug into his arms as he heard an anguished cry from her father behind him.
Jonathan could feel her sobs shake her body, threatening to break her apart from the inside. He didn’t dare let go of her, afraid that she would just fall where she stood. And for a moment, he wondered if he was too soft for this. Too emotional. Later, his teacher would tell him it was good he had such thoughts and feelings. To heal other humans one must retain their humanity. But right now he felt so weak.
They left in the morning. There was nothing more to be done but give their condolences. It was a tragedy and God had a plan.
Jonathan’s tongue felt like ash as he repeated something similar to the family. It was unfair, to lose a life so young. But humans could be so fragile at times.
Jonathan Fanshawe would not return to the Magnus household for years. Sometimes, he was in the nearby village. He would hear whispers of the family. How they retreated into themselves after the death of their beloved boy.
“Wife and son dead. No dowry for the girl. Who could blame him?”
He would realize the news of nothing was best. Later he would be sitting in a public house with a drink and talk to those around him. If he found himself bringing up the Magnus family he’d see the looks patrons would give each other. The sympathetic clicking of tongues and shifted glance before one would lean in to tell him. It seemed to get worse as time went on.
The father’s health wasn’t what it once was, they said. Their screaming matches could be heard over the hills, they said. The daughter tried to kill herself, they said.
Jonathan felt as if the air had been stolen from his lungs. “What?”
“Yes,” said the older man sitting across from him at the table. He took a long gulp of his drink. “Now, I don’t know the full story, mind you. Last year I think it was. Her father finally found a suitor for her hand. The young Bennett lad, a good match if you ask me. And they had known each other’s families for years, so she should have been thrilled, right?”
“Right?”
The man’s hand slapped the table. “Wrong! Word was that she was distraught. Arguing that she did not want to wed, that she wanted to stay and take care of their land. Foolish girl.” A scattering of jeers and agreements followed. “Mr. Bennett showed up here, at this pub, late in the night searching for a doctor. What we could get out of him was that his little bride-to-be walked off the roof. He woke in the night before the storm fell, hearing a clattering above him. Gone to the window, he did. And there he saw her. Walking along the roof. He watched her..” The man shuddered, he would say no more.
Jonathan didn’t want to believe it. But his eyes swept the faces around him and saw many nodding.
“Broken leg,” one woman said, as her husband patted her hand. “Poor dear. I don’t think it healed well.”
“Heard ol’ Barny called off the engagement right away. Who wants a damaged wife?”
Jonathan stopped listening at that point, all the voices muffled in his ears as his leaned back in his seat. His gaze went towards the window of the pub. It faced the direction the Magnus household would be in.
He wanted to go to her.
He made himself throw that idea away. What good would that do? He would just be a reminder of the day her brother passed. And what would he even say? ‘Hello, Miss Magnus. I’ve been gossiping about you and I’ve come to ask if you really tried to end your life?’ No. That would not help her or her situation. So he forced himself to stay put, draining the rest of his ale.
“And her father?” He finally asked.
“He doesn’t come into town often. I suspect he’s too embarrassed.”
Jonathan could not argue. To try and kill one’s self was a slap to God’s face. It was shameful, and it brought shame upon the family whether or not one succeeded.
And yet, Jonathan could not bring himself to really think that about the young girl- young woman. She had to be twenty by now.
He paid his tab and thanked those around him for the conversation. He needed to sleep if he was to be any use to them in the morning.
When he came back again that late autumn, gossip hit his ears again.
The Magnus girl had gone missing just as the seasons turned. And no one was looking. Even her former betrothed had just left the town entirely, heading to England for school.
Jonathan found he would not return to that village ever again after his services were done. He could not be so close to the Magnus family. He could not bring himself to hear the stories of the girl who had suffered so, when no one else cared.
Years would pass and Dr. Jonathan Fanshawe would be in London, attending a get-together of a new acquaintance; Robert Smirke.
It was… fine. A chance to mingle and make connections. Maybe even dance now and then. To get his name known, as he was still a fresh faced doctor. He did not wish to stay in London, but it would be beneficial to know faces when he did pass through. He just wished he knew where his host went. Really, Robert was the only one he knew. There were a few names learned but no one really caught his attention enough to actually converse with.
He heard Robert’s telltale laughter across the large room and decided that he should get closer to him. Perhaps the interesting men would be in proximity.
“Ah, Jonathan! Come here, come here,” said Robert once he spotted Jonathan getting closer. “There’s a lad I’d like you to meet.” He clapped a hand on the shoulder of the young man standing next to him.
Jonathan made his way through the group and found a pair of gray eyes watching him. A delicate face framed by copper curls. A feeling of deja vu washed over him, like a bucket of cold water.
“My boy, this is Dr. Jonathan Fanshawe. He’s a good friend of mine.” A lie. They weren’t good friends, they just happened to know someone together. “Doctor, this is Jonah Magnus.”
Jonathan could feel his heartbeat in his ears as he looked him over.It had to be her. But the man standing in front of him had a completely different feel to him. He was confident, standing tall despite not quite having the inches on him. He did not hide his face and he had such a pleasant smile. A brief glance downward found a flat chest instead-
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Fanshawe.” There was a shift as Jonah moved a cane he held to his left hand, so he could shake Jonathan’s. “Please do not put much stock into Mr. Smirke’s word of me. I am no one special.”
“Nonsense! He’s really brilliant to talk to. Retains everything said to him like a sponge, it makes for a thrilling debate.” Robert finally released his grip on Jonah’s shoulder once he was satisfied that the two were acquainted. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get another splash of brandy.” And he was gone.
And it was just the two of them, as the group seemed to follow Robert’s lead.
“Jonah Magnus, was it?” Jonathan asked, watching the man’s face for a reaction. “Forgive me but have we met before?”
That confident smile did not falter as Jonah finally pulled his hand back, placing it back on his cane for full support. But Jonathan saw that Jonah was no longer looking at him, eyes roaming around their immediate area. “Have we?”
“It’s just that… I know of another Jonah Magnus. And he died nearly eight years ago. ”
The eyes stopped moving, but they still would not look at him. “How interesting. Perhaps a distant cousin I do not know about.” His smile looked tight. “Or not. Names are just names, aren’t they Dr. Fanshawe?”
‘Please look at me,’ he thought. Desperately he wanted to see those eyes again. To be sure. “Would you like to sit down?” He asked, vaguely gesturing to Jonah’s leg. He could see the grip on the cane tighten, and a shift in his stance.
“I am alright.”
“Are you certain? I’m sure falling off the roof did you no favors-”
“Jonathan.”
Now the eyes were on him and he immediately regretted his wish. He felt rooted to the spot, like he had glanced a basilisk instead.
The smile was finally gone from Jonah’s mouth and Jonathan could see a fear in his eyes. A fear of being found out. “I’m sure you can imagine that such things aren’t to be said in polite company. If you wish me to continue being polite, it would be best if you kept quiet.” He had moved closer to Jonathan as he spoke, so only he would hear his soft voice. “I don’t mind being strangers, if that’s what you wish.”
Jonah was so close that Jonathan could see the freckles he never noticed before. The pierced lobes that no longer bore earrings. How healthy he looked now, living as a man. But most importantly he saw how much he did not wish to be a stranger.
Jonathan took a deep breath, making sure not to break eye contact this time. “No one will know,” he said, repeating words he used as a tease long ago. “Your secrets are always safe with me.”
Slowly, a smile returned to Jonah’s face. But it was different from the one he had when Robert introduced him. Softer. Genuine. The look he was giving Jonathan made his heart squeeze in fondness and fear.
“Why don’t we go for a walk, then? Tell me about yourself.”
They talked until dawn, the first of many nights Jonathan would spend in Jonah’s company.