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Chapter Text

CHAPTER ONE: FANNY'S VERSION

LADY FANNY FOX

Lady Fanny Fox hasn’t spent much time in hospitals. Which is for the best, really — it’s only strange women like Belle who seem to want to surround themselves with disease and blood and noise and pain. 

But when she learns that her sister is in the hospital — that Dr. Dawkins had kidnapped Belle while threatening the servants with a gun (how thrilling! how romantic!) and then conducted the forbidden surgery on her (it will be due to their forbidden love, Fanny is quite certain) — she immediately knows she needs to be at the hospital. 

Her parents are there too, of course, and Dr. Sneed. Everyone is fretting terribly: pacing (Dr. Sneed), praying (mother), or both (father).

Fanny sits at her sister’s side while drawing (the trees still haunt her dreams), or working on needlework, or something else that will keep her hands busy while she chatters away to her unresponsive sister. She had brought a basket of baked goods with her, but her sister doesn’t look up to eating anything yet — being unconscious is a large part of that. That is all right, for there is no urgency. The food will keep until Belle is awake and able to eat.

She does not stop to think of what will happen if Belle does not wake up — for Belle will wake up, Fanny has decided. Even thinking of thinking of any other outcome makes her breath catch in her throat and her heart beat painfully fast. Belle is too smart and too important to not wake up. She, Fanny, has decided it, and therefore it will happen. It is only a matter of time. 

Belle will wake up and all will be well. Fanny just has to be patient and wait. She feels suddenly, absurdly, grateful for her sister’s refusal to entertain suitors, for it has made Fanny very good at being patient and waiting — as though her sister was training her for this somehow, all these years. As though her clever, brilliant, infuriating sister somehow knew Fanny would need these qualities one day. And how right she had been, in the end, Fanny thinks, with a rush of fondness. Right as always. 

A day passes like this. 

Mother does not move from her vigil by Belle’s bedside. Nurses and other staff come in and look grim — saying nothing to the family, feeling Belle’s forehead, asking Dr. Sneed if there have been any signs of life (he will shake his head gruffly). Fanny draws and draws, and when she cannot draw any longer, she takes her embroidery out again. When she cannot embroider any longer, she reverts to her painting. It is a sensible system, for Fanny is quite sensible, in her own way. 

She is not sure what has become of Mr. Twist in the excitement, but she knows he will be here soon enough, and that he will share her belief in the inevitably of Belle’s recovery — for they surely must be united in all things, all beliefs, all principles of any importance, as they are to be wed. 

And if there is any principle Fanny believes in with all her heart, it is that her brilliant, bossy big sister is meant to be here, with her, on this earth, for as long as possible. Oh, Heaven must be wonderful, to be sure — Fanny isn’t a heathen! — but Heaven can wait to count Lady Belle Fox amongst its number, she thinks. Heaven will wait. Because Belle is so very needed here, and surely a just, merciful God must know that in His infinite wisdom.

Yes, she is quite sure that God has surely reached the same conclusion in His infinite wisdom as she has in her limited wisdom. God must know that Lady Fanny Fox needs her big sister for quite a bit longer. 

Not to mention — Fanny feels a little twinge of guilt — whatever it is Belle is doing for people at the hospital. She knows Mother thinks it involves rolling bandages and reading to the sick, but — for a smart, shrewd, headstrong woman herself —  Mother can be remarkably blind about Belle’s true nature and intentions sometimes. Fanny doesn’t need to have her sister’s confidence to know Belle is doing no such thing. The people at the hospital will need Belle. The people of Port Victory need Belle. 

And what of poor, tragic, love-struck Dr. Dawkins?! Fanny feels a terrible pang when she thinks of him — for she knows he and her sister have been having a positively torrid love affair (how thrilling! how romantic! Fanny wishes such a thing would happen to her — and then she remembers Mr. Twist, with a mingled pang of regret and rush of relief). 

“Dr. Sneed,” Fanny asks, her voice scratchy from lack of use. “Dr. Sneed, where is Dr. Dawkins?”

Of course she knows Dr. Dawkins is a sore point with her parents, but this is different, she thinks. This is not a question of using the correct fork at dinner — he has saved Belle’s life! Oh, of course, there is the small matter of kidnapping, of holding people at gunpoint — but Fanny thinks such things are often so excused in novels that surely they must make excuses for them in real life as well, when such incredible things have happened. 

Her question is received rather as well as if she had stood up and fired a pistol into the sky. 

“Um — er — Dr. Dawkins…” Dr. Sneed exclaims, not forming a correct sentence or finishing this one. “He is…well,” he breaks off to glare at Mother rather nastily (how curious).

In the chair next to Fanny, her father gives a mournful sigh, pressing his face into his hands again. “My dear — 

Her mother gives a strangled, angry cry, like a wounded animal. “I will not discuss this again!”

Have they discussed this? Fanny was not present for any such discussion. How mean of them not to include her, she thinks, as though she does not love Belle just as much as they do (and rather more than Dr. Sneed, she thinks). 

“Where is he?” Fanny repeats. For if anyone has information about Belle’s condition or ideas for how to hasten her (inevitable!) recovery, it will be Dr. Dawkins. And she does not know why anyone would waste time pretending otherwise, not when their beloved Belle lies here, pale and still as a statue. “Surely, he would want to be here? Surely, he will know why she is not yet awake?”

“Your mother has sent him to prison,” Dr. Sneed says, suddenly, as though he cannot keep it inside anymore. His voice is rather snide — not a tone unusual for Rainsford Sneed, indeed, but it is an unusual for him to address Mother thusly. “Where he will most certainly be hanged.”

“What?” Fanny exclaims, starting, turning to stare at Dr. Sneed, which is terribly unladylike, but she cannot help it. “She — what? Prison? Dr. Dawkins — be hanged? Mother — surely not?”

She swivels to look at her mother, whose lips are pressed into a thin, shaking line.

Surely, Dr. Sneed has misunderstood something? Or — no, she thinks, Dr. Sneed is much too learned, too intelligent to misunderstand. Surely, she, Fanny, has misheard or misunderstood. 

That will be it, she thinks, instructing herself to remain calm. She has misheard Dr. Sneed. Mother or Father will explain the matter any minute. Dr. Dawkins will be here any minute, and he will have the answers. He will have the solution. Belle will wake up soon and be in the pink of health, laughing that they ever worried over any other outcome. Fanny will marry Mr. Twist and Belle will be there, smiling in spite of herself. 

All will be well. Fanny is sure of it. 

Maybe — Fanny is so sure of it, she descends into a daydream before her mother can speak — Belle will marry her Dr. Dawkins (it is most unsuitable, but Fanny’s a romantic — it must be possible, she thinks, dreamily, if it is true love). She and Belle will be mothers together, their children like siblings. Maybe they will all live on the same street — in Mayfair, in Port Victory? Fanny isn’t sure (although she rather struggles to imagine Dr. Dawkins in Mayfair). Hadn’t Mr. Twist said Dr. Dawkins had been like a brother to him, once? Perhaps they will be brothers after all. Mother and Father will be devoted grandparents, of course. Everyone will forget whatever petty objections they had once raised to the union. 

Maybe they will all grow old together. Well — of course, she thinks, firmly, of course they will all grow old together. Neither Belle nor Dr. Dawkins are in any danger of any other fate, not really, she thinks. 

For Dr. Dawkins shan’t be hanged, of course. Nor will he stay in prison! Imagine such a thing. To save the life of the governor’s daughter — from a deadly, incurable condition — and be put to death for such a thing! Nonsense, thinks Fanny, stoutly. Whether Dr. Dawkins will marry her sister or not (How romantic! How thrilling!) he surely shan’t die. She has decided it, and so it must be so, she thinks, firmly. 

Her mother’s voice breaks through her reverie, and Fanny jumps, having quite forgotten their conversation was ongoing. 

“Dr. Dawkins is in prison, Fanny. He has behaved abominably — far worse than even the common criminal I believed him to be. He kidnapped your sister! He threatened our servants! He performed an illegal, highly dangerous surgery on her against our express wishes! He —

“It was not against her wishes,” Fanny says, confused. “It was Belle’s idea. She wanted it very badly. She had to beg him to do it.”

She does not say it in an argumentative way — that is not who she is, nor does she yet realize this is a contentious point. She is simply repeating the truth. Truth, in Fanny Fox’s world, is immutable: something is either correct or it is not. And it is correct that Belle Fox wanted this surgery — begged for it, even. Belle had told Fanny herself. Her mother must simply be misinformed.

Her mother’s voice shocks her with its sharpness, the way it rips through the enforced silence of the sickroom. “Your father and I had not consented! She was imagining things — you know your sister! He endangered her life for — for no reason! To bolster his ego, to make her feel indebted to him, to punish us — there was no need for it!”

“Damn it!” Dr. Sneed shouts, which shocks and intrigues Fanny. It is shocking for its vulgarity, of course — she has never heard him use such language — and that he would direct it to her mother like this. It is intriguing for the same reasons. What can have possessed him?

“There was every need!” Dr. Sneed says, his voice raised far above any acceptable tone.

“Dr. Sneed!” Her mother glares at him, her eyes watery. “You examined her yourself! You said it was — it was a perforated ulcer! That she simply needed bed rest.”

“I — I was wrong,” Dr. Sneed mutters, looking at a spot on the floor as though it is incredibly interesting. “I was wrong, and Dawkins was right. He saved her life, because he was willing to listen to her, to examine her symptoms without prejudice. To value Lady Belle's knowledge.”

Her mother gawps at him.

“I did say,” her father pipes up at last, and Fanny feels relieved. Father will put things right. “Didn’t I say, my dear, that a mad soldier is often correct in battle?”

This makes no sense to Fanny, and doesn’t do much to improve the situation, as far as she can see. She feels most annoyed with her father. 

“How can an Oxford-educated physician be proven wrong about something by a slip of a girl and a man who cannot even read?”

Dr. Sneed is shame-faced, and does not answer her mother’s question. “That surgery he performed — no one has even done it. I did not think such a thing could be done.” Dr. Sneed rubs his face, looking tired and miserable. “It is — I could never have performed such a thing.”

Her mother does not respond to this point. “He took advantage of her, for his own benefit. He told her things she wanted to hear so she would ask for it, and he could claim she had asked, had wanted it.”

This does not seem really like her mother is talking about the surgery anymore, and Fanny does not understand it, for her mother is an intelligent woman. 

“Mother,” she says, trying to bring a note of reason back to the conversation. “Belle spoke to me. She explained the diagnosis — how she had reached the conclusion, and why she needed this surgery. It seemed quite sensible to me. I mean, I do not really understand such things, of course, but Belle does — she is so smart. Sometimes I think she is the smartest person I know. Or — the smartest woman, at least,” she gives Father and Dr. Sneed an apologetic look. 

“That is just it,” mother breathes, looking murderous. “You do not understand such things, Fanny, and would do better not to speak of them.”

“You are quite intelligent, too, Mother,” she says, feeling apologetic. “Far more than I am. You know I think it. I just meant that Belle is so — well, she’s so clever, with all the bones and the Latin terms and things — she knows words I never even knew were words and —

“Be quiet, Frances!” Her mother hisses. “Stop speaking of things you do not understand. Things you do not even understand that you do not understand.”

Fanny is dreadfully hurt by this, and looks, appealingly, to Father. Father doesn’t really look as though he is listening — simply gazing on his eldest daughter sadly. 

To her surprise, it is Dr. Sneed who speaks next. “Lady Jane,” he clears his throat, awkwardly, “Forgive me, but I believe Lady Fanny is correct — Lady Belle is quite knowledgeable about medical matters. She diagnosed this condition in herself where I quite failed. If you believe me at all knowledgeable about medicine, you must believe your daughter has at least theoretical competency, if not the same experience and practical education.”

Fanny shoots him a grateful smile, and he smiles back. 

“And why did you not diagnose it, then?” Mother swings the spotlight of her anger on Dr. Sneed again. “Perhaps my husband was quite mistaken in appointing you as Prof’s successor, if you are so easily outfoxed by a girl and a criminal?”

“I…” Dr. Sneed swallows hard, as though choking down something painful. “I — I must confess…I had suspicions. Based on the symptoms. Based on what I heard and observed. Based on what Lady Belle reported. But I — I did not want to believe it.” He mutters this, looking again at that same spot on the floor (it is quite ordinary, Fanny does not see why it is so fascinating). 

Her mother makes an angry noise in her throat. 

“You must understand, Lady Jane,” he continues, his voice shot through with pained mortification. “That her condition is — was — incurable. That it is a death sentence. Was.  I did not want to believe such a thing — did not want to think Lady Belle’s life was about to be cut short so cruelly, so unfairly. To tell you that your daughter would surely die, whether in her bed or on a surgery table.”

“And so you lied?” Her mother’s voice is so brittle Fanny thinks it will snap.

“I did not lie,” he says, and it sounds to Fanny like he is telling the truth. “I simply chose to believe in an ulcer because it was more palatable to me. I did not let myself believe that the aortic aneurism theory was correct, because I could not — I could not face it. If anything, I lied to myself, not to you or to Lady Belle. Please believe me.”

Her mother does not say anything. Her father continues to not say anything (rather uselessly, she thinks, annoyed).

“Why on earth is Dr. Dawkins to be hanged?” Fanny cannot keep quiet on this point. “He saved her life, Mother! Even Dr. Sneed agrees the surgery was necessary.”

“He has not saved her life,” her mother’s voice shakes. “Look at her.”

And they all do — Belle, lively, furious, impossible Belle, lying as though dead. But she is still breathing, Fanny thinks, seeing the rise and fall of her sister's chest. She is not dead. 

And she will not die, Fanny thinks, fiercely, remembering the Belle who had always defended her as a child, who had always lashed out at boys who teased her or girls who called her silly. Not if Fanny can help it. Not if Fanny has a say. 

“She is still alive,” Dr. Sneed says, testily. “Her pulse beats and she still breathes. No other patient with such a condition has survived so long. And when I listen to her heart —" He breaks off, shaking his head as though in disbelief — “He has done it. He fixed the aneurism. The sound of her heart is normal. It was not like that two days ago, when I last listened.”

“Why are you defending him?” Lady Jane raises her eyebrows. “You do not care for the man, unless I am greatly mistaken.”

“I recognize exceptional medical talent when I see it,” Sneed says, stiffly. “Whatever loathsome upstart package it might come in. And he is the best surgeon I have ever seen — the best in this colony, to be sure. Many will die if Jack Dawkins dies, milady. And whatever my personal opinion of the man — I cannot countenance such a thing. When the man has not done anything wrong, not really.”

“Edmund, say something,” her mother instructs, looking furious.

“My dear,” her father gives her mother a look. “I find myself in agreement with Dr. Sneed. I cannot sign the man’s death warrant.”

Her mother cries out in anger, sputtering. 

“My dear,” her father sighs. “He will remain in prison for now. I just — I cannot condemn so useful a man to death. Not for saving our daughter’s life, however it was done. Not when the colony surely needs his medical talents, as Dr. Sneed points out.”

“And,” Fanny pipes up, wanting to help. “I just know Belle would say this is a case for the — the Spear — the Blade — the Lance?” She frowns. “Whatever that magazine is called. For medical accomplishments. The one she is always reading.”

Dr. Sneed stifles a laugh, surprising her. “The Lancet,” he says, and she can see is trying not to smile.

“I knew it was something pointy,” she says, shrugging. 

“And Lady Fanny is right, truly,” Dr. Sneed nods again, and Fanny feels a warmth in her bones like drinking tea on a cold, dreary day. “It should be a case for the Lancet. It should be the talk of Mayfair, of the entire Empire.”

“Even if she is dead?!” Mother whispers, her voice as sharp as a lancet must be.

“She is not dead,” Fanny says, and the calm of her voice surprises her. “Look!”

For Belle is stirring now — slowly, barely, her eyelids fluttering. Everyone wheels to face Belle, falling silent. Belle blearily opens one eye, her face tilting to the side, to the window. 

“Jack,” she rasps, and Fanny looks up to see the man in question in the hallway. 

 Dr. Dawkins — her sister’s paramour, she likes to think — is on the other side of the glass. He is breathing very hard, as though he has run here. He is absolutely filthy: covered in sweat and dirt and — is that blood? Goodness. How thrilling! How romantic!

There is a great deal of commotion then, as Dr. Dawkins sees to be knocked sideways as he is tackled by guards. 

“My darling!” Mother exclaims, grabbing Belle’s hands, and their father hurries to look her in the eyes as well, now in tears. “Darling, never mind about that.”

“Jack!” Belle forces out, a little louder now. “Jack!”

"You musn't over-excite yourself, darling," Father says, stroking Belle's hair. 

Belle, who was probably born over-exciting herself, meets Fanny’s eyes over their mother’s shoulder, and fixes her sister with a firm, bossy look — a look so very Belle that it thrills Fanny to see it. Jack, her sister mouths, Jack. 

Fanny understands, and she nods firmly in response. Jack, she mouths, in agreement.

Then, as though she is as feeble-minded as everyone seems to think, she exclaims, “Oh, Belle!” and falls to the floor so she may fall to pieces at her sister’s recovery. She notices, as she sinks to her knees by her sister’s sickbed, that Dr. Sneed is looking at her rather curiously, glancing between the two sisters. 

Never mind that, she thinks. She has other things to worry about now. She is an engaged woman, with a sick sister to nurse back to health — and she has now been charged with saving her sister’s criminal paramour (who saved her sister by conducting an impossible surgery at gunpoint! Really, Ann Radcliffe couldn’t have written something more thrilling!) from prison, from death so that her sister can defy their parents and society and —  well, something, she's not entirely sure (How thrilling! How exciting!). But most importantly, so that her sister can keep being here with Fanny. So that her sister can live. Can keep bossing everyone around and insulting Lady Fanny and defying convention and refusing suitors and generally being a too-clever, half-mad nuisance for as long as her sister wants to be one.  

Rainsford Sneed is the last of her concerns. 

Chapter Text

  CHAPTER TWO:  ANYTHING FOR YOU

LADY FANNY FOX

After Dr. Dawkins is detained and removed from the hospital, Belle overexerts herself – mostly rasping in bed, and trying to sit up – before she completely collapses back onto the bed. She is asleep again in an instant. 

“Is she – is this – what is happening?” Her mother turns on Dr. Sneed, demanding an explanation. 

“Well,” He shrugs a little. “She has just experienced an incredibly invasive surgery, Lady Jane. It is natural that the body would require extensive rest and recovery after such an experience. I think that we can rest assured that, while Lady Belle still requires extensive care, she will wake up again.” 

Mother looks like she does not know if she believes that. 

“How long must she stay here?” Father asks Dr. Sneed, who is beginning to look like he rather regrets having any position of authority here if it means he needs to answer these impossible questions. 

“I cannot say, at this point,” Dr. Sneed admits. “We must continue to monitor her condition. She must stay here under our care for the time being – and likely for the foreseeable future.” 

“But surely it would be better to recover at home?” Mother asks, sounding personally offended. “Cleaner, safer, more comfortable.” 

“I cannot permit that,” Dr. Sneed shakes his head. “She is the world’s only survivor of this surgery. She must remain at the hospital for monitoring. I fear that even moving her to your home might cause her injury.” 

Mother and Father both seem to accept this. 

“Please,” Dr. Sneed passes a hand over his tired face once again. “Your Excellency, Lady Jane, Lady Fanny – I think you should go home and rest for a time, now that we know Lady Belle has woken up. You cannot do anything for her sitting around her as she sleeps.” 

Fanny wants to object to this – Belle will need them, she will surely wake again and wonder where she is – but the truth is that she is quite exhausted from their vigil. She can scarcely imagine anything better than crawling into her own bed and closing her eyes for a period of time. And, besides, she must have some quiet and privacy to think of a plan for Belle’s sake. And she will surely not get that here – the hospital is quite noisy and busy. Not to mention the fact that it contains her parents who are constantly hovering and asking questions. 

The thing is that, while Belle has been clear about what she wants – to see Dr. Dawkins – Fanny is not really sure what else needs to be done. Or how to go about accomplishing it. She really misses her sister, she thinks, with a pang – for her sister is excellent at planning and scheming and surely would have already thought through a brilliant plan that Fanny could never even begin to think of.

But Belle cannot do that right now – or, if she can, she cannot stay awake long enough to communicate it to Fanny. So she, Fanny, must take up the mantle as the Fox family schemer in her stead, she reminds herself. 

Here is what she knows:  Dr. Dawkins is in prison. Belle wants to see him. She, Fanny, feels quite certain that Dr. Dawkins is the only one (other than, perhaps, Belle herself) who can be trusted with Belle’s recovery (she feels guilty about it, but she simply does not think Dr. Sneed is up to the task). Therefore, both Fox sisters require Dr. Dawkins to be free of the prison and present at the hospital as soon as possible, without restrictions on his ability to see Belle. 

Very clear, she thinks, very simple. Rather well-reasoned, all things considered. But – how to get Dr. Dawkins free from prison? Fanny has no idea. She wishes she could ask Belle. She sighs loudly at that, her exhaustion getting to her.

“Oh dear,” Mother says, mistaking this for a yawn. “Fanny, you look absolutely exhausted. We must get you home to bed.” 

Everyone fusses around, and eventually it is decided that they will go home for some period of time – Mother keeps insisting she will be back in a matter of hours – and hopefully sleep. Dr. Sneed urges everyone to sleep for a normal amount of time, and insists there is no need to race back immediately. 

As she is being ushered down the hallway by her parents, Fanny grows faint and teary. “Oh, mother!” She cries pathetically. “Might I – might I go back and give my dear sister one final kiss for the day? I just – I know it is foolish – I know she is asleep, but my heart aches for her!” 

This is a bit of a gamble, because she does not know if her mother will follow her back to see Belle. 

Her mother frowns, and pets Fanny’s cheek. “Of course, my dear. I must speak with the nurse about a few details of Belle’s care. Will you meet me downstairs in ten minutes? You father is fetching the carriage.” 

And the gamble has paid off, Fanny thinks, pleased. “Of course, mother.” 

She turns and walks back down the hallway, trying not to walk suspiciously quickly. 

Only once she is back in Belle’s room, she is not sure what she thought this would accomplish. Her sister is sleeping once more, although looking far less corpse-like than she did before – there is a touch of colour in her cheeks, and her chest is noticeably rising and falling. 

“Er – “ Fanny says to Belle’s sleeping body. “Belle?” 

Belle stays exactly as she is. Fanny sits down in the chair next to Belle’s bed, the one so recently vacated by their mother. 

“Belle!” She says louder this time, and wonders if she dares to shake Belle’s shoulder like they are children. She is not sure, exactly, where Belle’s stitches are – no one has told her – but she feels like this is inching dangerously close to what must be a painful wound. 

“Belle!” She settles for tugging on her sister’s limp hand. “Belle! Wake up! I need to speak with you!” 

This isn’t working. Fanny casts around, trying to think where she can shake her sister without risking the stitches. She settles for giving her sister’s thigh a prod with her finger. “Belle! It’s Fanny. Wake up, please!” 

“What are you doing?” 

She jumps out of her skin at the new voice, but then sees it is a familiar face – and not either of her parents, praise the merciful Lord. It is Dr. Sneed, looking confused, annoyed, and mildly amused, standing on the threshold. 

“Are you talking to her?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. “Did I just see you – poke her leg?

Fanny summons all of the dignity innate to her person. “I was speaking to my sister, yes.” She is not going to answer the second question. It’s none of his business. 

His face looks torn between exasperation and sympathy. “Lady Fanny, I understand that this must be an incredibly emotionally taxing situation, but your sister needs her rest. And, besides, I don’t think you will wake her up from such a deep sleep in any event.” 

“It’s important,” Fanny says importantly, in the tone that many men (like Father or Prof) often employ when they want something. “It’s important that I speak to her.” 

“Dr. Dawkins had his hands in your sister’s chest twenty-four hours ago. Her entire chest open, pouring blood. She really does need her rest.” Dr. Sneed repeats. 

“I need to speak to her,” Fanny repeats, a little desperately, because she knows the logic of what Dr. Sneed is saying, but she doesn’t know how to do this without Belle.

He makes an exasperated sound, before narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously – and a little curiously. “Is this anything to do with whatever you and Lady Belle were whispering at each other before?” 

She narrows her eyes right back. “That is a private matter between myself and my sister,” she says. That sounds very good, she thinks, very private and serious. It sounds like something an important man would say, and have people listen to him immediately. 

“I see,” he says, not smiling but not…not smiling. “So I assume the answer is yes. And it is something you could not speak to her about in front of your parents, evidently.” 

“I did not say that!” She says, a little indignantly. 

“You did not have to,” he says, shrugging. “I deduced it.” 

This is the problem, Fanny thinks, with people like Dr. Sneed and Belle – they are always deducing things one never intended to share – things one never even realized one had shared. It’s most disconcerting. Off-putting, even. 

She does not confirm or deny it, but simply glances around the sickroom, as though she expects the answer to be written somewhere along the wall. It is not, sadly. 

She looks at Dr. Sneed curiously, weighing her options. He had, after all, known where Dr. Dawkins was and why. He has spoken highly of Dr. Dawkins’ medical talents. He could be an ally. But she does not know if she can trust him in this – for surely he will simply tell her parents? 

After all, he had wanted to marry Belle himself, had he not? And he does not like Dr. Dawkins. Surely he would assume that freeing Dr. Dawkins would put another obstacle between himself and Belle.

But he must know, Fanny thinks, that Belle would never marry him – Dr. Sneed, that is. It does not matter if Dr. Dawkins is there or not. Belle simply will not. And she does not think Dr. Sneed would be any happier with Belle than she with him. For Dr. Sneed would be always looking for Belle to be impressed by him, to praise him, to genuinely be surprised and delighted with his intellect – and Belle will never do any of those things. It’s not who she is – and, Fanny thinks, feeling very guilty, that Belle might be smarter than Dr. Sneed, so surely she will never be surprised and delighted by his intellect. No, she thinks – just as Belle needs a husband who can match her energy and her…insanity, Dr. Sneed needs a wife who is happy to be a supportive and nurturing presence. They are most unsuited to each other. 

“You must know that Belle will never marry you,” she says, without really thinking, looking at him. 

“I beg your pardon?” Dr. Sneed looks at her, shocked. “What a remark!” 

Fanny shrugs. “I just thought you ought to know. She would never be happy with you, and you would never be happy with her. You’re two entirely different people. It doesn’t matter what happens to Dr. Dawkins.” 

A dark cloud seems to descend over Dr. Sneed’s face at the mention of Dr. Dawkins, and she worries he will start shouting in anger (although that could be rather thrilling, in truth). 

To her surprise, he sighs heavily. “I confess I am –” He rubs his hand over his face again, which just makes him look more haggard, as though he’s able to pull his tired face down further. “I am – I am very troubled at the idea of consigning Dr. Dawkins to prison.” 

Oh, Fanny thinks, thrilled. This is good news! Not – not Dr. Dawkins being in prison, obviously, but what Dr. Sneed is saying. Perhaps he could be an ally after all. 

“I agree,” she nods fervently. “He saved her life!” 

Dr. Sneed nods slowly. “He may be a prodigious medical talent after all, damn him. Er – sorry,” he says, realizing he has sworn in front of her (it is rather thrilling, truth be told). “I should not have spoken so coarsely in front of you, Lady Fanny.” 

“I accept your apology,” she says, with a gracious tilt of her chin. “It has been a trying day.” 

He laughs at that. “That’s putting it mildly indeed.” 

“But –” Fanny does not want to drop this point, not when Dr. Sneed brought it up. “Dr. Dawkins cannot stay in prison, surely? The people of Port Victory need him.” 

Dr. Sneed scowls a little at this, but does not say anything, listening. 

“Belle needs him,” Fanny says, more firmly. “I am afraid – I am afraid she will not recover properly without him. I am very afraid, in truth.” 

She expects him to argue, to insist that he is a far better surgeon with a much better education, but he does not. Instead, he seems to deflate visibly at her words. 

“I am – I am worried as well, in truth.” 

This is good, she thinks, very good. 

“That is what Belle was saying to me,” she says, nodding her head. “We must get him out of prison, then.” 

“I – what? You – get him out of prison?” Dr. Sneed looks at her like she’s grown a second head. “You must be mad – you cannot do that.” 

“No,” Fanny shakes her head at him – he looks a little calmer, until she speaks again. “Not me. We.” 

“We?” He gapes at her, taking a step back. “I can assure you I will be doing no such thing.” 

“But then,” Fanny looks at him beseechingly. “She may – she may…not recover.” She cannot bring herself to say the word die. 

Dr. Sneed looks pained. 

Fanny continues. “And if he gets sentenced to…something dreadful,” – in truth, she is not exactly sure what such sentencing might involve and cannot be more specific, “he cannot keep saving people in the colony.” 

Dr. Sneed sputters something at this. 

“Am I wrong?” She asks him, simply. It is much easier to say these things when she is doing them on Belle’s behalf instead of her own. She feels a little like she is channelling a bit of Belle’s practical, brave spirit. 

“You are not…wrong, not exactly,” he says, sounding like he’d rather eat mud instead of saying these words. 

“So you will help me, then?” Fanny asks him, pleased by the strength of her argument.

“I said no such thing!” Dr. Sneed frowns, looking scandalized…and interested. “You are talking about a criminal – who kidnapped the Governor’s daughter!”

“Oh, not that again,” Fanny flaps a hand. “Haven’t we settled that by now? Can it really be called kidnapping when he saved her life?” 

Dr. Sneed presses his lips together, looking peeved. “I do not know what ideas you have – but I have not agreed to participate in any of it. And here I thought you were the sensible one, Lady Fanny!” 

“Oh, no,” Fanny shakes her head. “Belle is the sensible one. Unwell, but sensible,” she concludes. “I’m quite simple, really.” 

He just stares at her, and she continues.

“Besides,” she says, in a dignified tone. “I thought you cared too much about the future of medicine in Port Victory than to let a simple obstacle like this stand in your way. I rather thought you such a clever, determined man that you would never be stopped by what really amounts to one woman’s grudge, after all.” 

She says these words with careful precision, waiting to see if they have their desired effect. The more men she meets, the more she is beginning to see that most of them are actually quite simple. You simply tell him about himself, as though he is the person he most longs to be. Sometimes the man is already that person; sometimes (usually) he is not. It does not seem to really matter, for he will believe it if a nice young lady says things to him prettily enough. 

Dr. Sneed’s face turns quite red at first, as though offended, and then it seems to settle as he digests her words. “Hmph,” he says. 

She fights the urge to speak with all her might. She must let him reach the conclusion on his own.

“It would be dashed useful to have Dawkins around again,” Dr. Sneed says to himself. “Even if he is an insolent son-of-a—” He breaks off, looking horrified again, clearing his throat. 

“So you’ll do it, then.” Fanny says it as though it is a settled fact, not a question.

“I said no such thing!” He yelps out, as though she has done something most scandalous. 

“Fine!” Fanny says, annoyed and upset. “I see that I am the only one prepared to take Belle’s health seriously. I thought you might be – an ally, but I see I was wrong. Goodbye, Dr. Sneed.” She sweeps out into the hallway, the very picture of dignity (she wishes she could see herself pull this off in the mirror right now).

She is nearly down the entire hallway, approaching the staircase, when she hears Dr. Sneed’s footsteps in the hallway behind her, his breath coming out in undignified pants. 

“All right, all right,” he says, looking extremely annoyed. “I will – I will help. Now, let me be clear,” he puts a finger up, as though scolding her, “I will not participate in any sort of…scheming. Or anything of that nature. But I can…obtain information for you.” 

This is a good start, she thinks. “Oh, Dr. Sneed, how wonderful!” She claps her hands in delight. “Thank you! This is the right thing to do, you’ll see.” 

“Of course it is the right thing to do,” he says, gruffly. “I shouldn’t have agreed otherwise.” 

“I think…” Fanny frowns – but she is too tired for a plan. “I think I shall go home and go to sleep. And then we will speak when I return to visit Belle. We will formulate a plan.” 

“I didn’t agree to be part of a plan!” He calls after her. “I agreed to – to get information, that’s all. Are you listening, Lady Fanny?” 

But Fanny doesn’t have time for this, not now. She needs to find that raggedy Uncle of Dr. Dawkins’, she thinks. He’ll have the answers, surely.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER THREE: CONSIDER YOURSELF WELL IN

DR. RAINSFORD SNEED

Being the eighth son of an almost-baron (the eldest son of a baron who happened to die before inheriting the title) isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. If it is even cracked up to be much, really. 

His grandfather James, Lord Middleton, is the Baron Middleton; by rights, his father, James' eldest son, The Honourable Mr. Frederick Sneed, ought to be in line to be the next Baron Middleton. But then his father had the gall to go and die when Rainsford was a small child, some 20 years ago, and his eldest brother, James Sneed had become the heir to the barony instead, becoming The Honourable Mr. James Sneed (mostly out of deference rather than truly being entitled to the title). 

Because the title had never actually passed to the now-deceased Honourable Mr. Frederick Sneed, the remainder of his sons would never possess a title beyond mere Misters, unless earned through word or deed (or purchased through great success in business, which was distasteful but not altogether out of the question). 

And so, if one were to review their copy of Burke's Peerage or Debrett's, one would see the ten children of The Honourable Mr. Frederick Sneed and his wife, Lady Harriet Sneed (born Lady Harriet Rainsford-Montague), listed thusly: 

1. The Honourable Mr. James Sneed b. 1811 (heir to the Baron Middleton) = The Honourable Miss Elizabeth Wallace 
2. Sir Frederick Sneed, Baronet, b. 1813 = Miss Arabella Twombley
3. Sir Clarence Sneed, Member of Parliament, b. 1814 = Miss Mary Summerson
4. The Reverend Mr. Arthur Sneed b. 1816 = Lady Charlotte Beaufort
5. Admiral Sir Richard Sneed b. 1819 = Miss Sophia Allen
6. Major-General Peregrine Sneed b. 1820 = The Honourable Miss Sarah Plummer
7. Captain Montague Sneed b. 1822 = Miss Rosa Bagnet
8. Miss Lavinia Sneed (now married to Sir George Brocklehurst, and known as Lady Brocklehurst) b. 1824
9. Dr. Rainsford Sneed b. 1827
10. Miss Estella Sneed (married to The Honourable Nicholas Whimple, to become Viscountess Taunton in time) b. 1832 

First, of course, there was James -- and what more needed to be said about James? He would be Baron Middleton one day. He had married the Honourable Elizabeth Wallace, daughter of the Viscount Ridford. He had inherited a number of profitable businesses. He had four children, two of them sons (Frederick, Cecily, Elizabeth, and Anthony). The less said about James, the better. 

And then there was Frederick Sneed -- Freddy, as they always called him, who was now Sir Frederick Sneed, Baronet, after receiving the honour for some great accomplishment-or-other that Rainsford cannot really recall and doesn't care to, frankly. He had married Arabella Twombley, the daughter of the baronet Sir Walter Twombley, and they've had an absolute pile of children - seven! although only two boys. Sir Walter had made his fortune in trade and had no sons, and was only too happy to welcome Freddy into the family business. 

And then came Sir Clarence Sneed, MP. He had been knighted in recognition of his public works, and would never shut up about it. A member of Lincoln's Inn, he had studied law before taking up his seat in the House of Commons, eventually becoming a well-regarded member of the Privy Council (and he won't shut up about that either). He had married Miss Mary Summerson, who was the great-granddaughter of an earl, and they had three children (two boys!). 

For a while, Rainsford had comforted himself because there was always Arthur Sneed, who no one much worried about. Arthur had become a country vicar, and no one paid him any mind until five years ago when he had -- in a stunning upset -- married the beloved only daughter of the Duke of Hexam, Lady Charlotte Beaufort, who came with a stunning 10,000 pounds a year. Arthur now had three children with Lady Charlotte, even if only one was a boy. 

And then there was Admiral Sir Richard Sneed, an admiral in the Royal Navy and knighted for his service to boot, married to the well-born, well-liked, and well-heeled Miss Sophia Allen, with whom he had five children (three of them boys).

Major-General Peregrine Sneed came next -- and it is some cold comfort that he is the Army rather than the Navy, for that is a step down, at least. No doubt he will achieve knighthood in time, as Rainsford's luck would have it. He married the daughter of Baron Kimble, The Honourable Sarah Plummer, and they had four children (three of them boys). 

Then, Captain Montague Sneed, who was moving up in the Royal Navy alarmingly fast (it does help to be the younger brother of Admiral Sir Richard Sneed, of course), and who is Rainsford's closest brother in age (being only 5 years his senior), which means Rainsford cannot stand him. It will be intolerable when he, too, inevitably obtains some knighthood or other. His wife, the former Miss Rosa Bagnet, is a generally well-respected member of the gentry, although with no particular distinction in birth, title, or fortune (at least there is that). Two children, one of them a boy. 

Rainsford does have two sisters -- Lavinia, three years his elder, and Estella, five years his junior. One would think one wouldn't have to compete with sisters, at least. But alas, Lavinia had married a Baronet, Sir George Brocklehurst and was now Lady Brocklehurst, and mother to six children (it had been some small comfort that they only had girls, until she had managed to have twin boys last year). Still, Lavinia was the sort of person one didn't worry too much about, even if it was rather annoying to have another titled male in his orbit.

And then, his youngest sister, Estella, had recently made a rather glittering marriage to a futuree earl (damn her), The Honourable Nicholas Whimple, the eldest son of Earl Taunton . Once he inherited his sister would become Estella, Countess Taunton, and he wasn’t sure he could bear the indignity of this. To add insult to injury, they had immediately had a son, and Estella had, earlier this year, birthed another child, also a boy. 

And then there was Rainsford. Rainsford does not wish misfortune upon any of his siblings, not really -- it is just rather galling to be surrounded by so many prominent and titled individuals. And Rainsford is not only the youngest son, but by rather a lot - for his eldest brother is 16 years older, and even Montague is five years his senior.

His grandfather had been cursed with only one son (Rainsford’s father, The Honourable Frederick Sneed) and one daughter (born The Honourable Katherine Sneed, now Katherine, Viscountess Langdale). Frederick had therefore taken his duty to procreate very seriously. The family had been quite newly noble (only having been ennobled in the late 1760s, after Raisnford’s great-grandfather made a fortune in trade), and his father had clearly understood his duty to ensure the title did not lapse. 

Only spreading fortune around 10 ways doesn’t leave a lot left — and the bulk must, of course, go to his eldest brother James, with allowances having been made for the dowries of Lavinia and Estella.

Like all his brothers, Rainsford went to Eton, and then on to Balliol College, Oxford. It doesn’t matter what one does, at this point, for everyone else has done it already. It only matters if you fail to do it. Rainsford is not cut out for the military, not cut out for the clergy, nor good enough with words to be a barrister or a Member of Parliament. So he had become a surgeon — a profession barely suited for a gentleman, one step above butchery. He enjoyed it — he was good at it — even if he felt this was a little shameful, to enjoy something so coarse.

When in, 1851, two years out of Oxford, he had reconnected with Mr. Edmund Fox, their old neighbour in Mayfair, now governor of the Australian colony of Victoria, he had been struck with the idea of moving to the colonies. Why not? He had thought, feeling restless. There is a whole world beyond Mayfair, a whole world where Rainsford can make his mark, without the shadow of his brothers hanging over him. And that is how, later in 1851, a 24-year-old Rainsford Sneed found himself disembarking a ship after 4 miserable months at sea, blinking into the sunshine of Australia and wondering what on earth he had done. 

James is not an unkind brother, and has dedicated himself to acquiring the nutmeg business in no small part because he knows his younger brothers must have a living (and perhaps because he does not wish for them to continue to sponge off of him indefinitely). And so, while Rainsford might not live in the style he thinks he ought to (or quite the style he has grown up in), he has a very good living in Port Victory. And what’s more, he is not constantly dogged by the shadow of his family, knowing he is the least accomplished, least prominent, least wealthy of the brothers Sneed. 

It is easy to feel superior in Australia, land of convicts and thieves, where even the best society tends of come from lowest ranks of the nobility, and most free settlers are gentry at best. The grandson of a baron (who should have been the son of a baron, Goddamnit, if there was any fairness in this world) and the brother of a future baron; an Oxford and Eton man, a surgeon, and the great-grandson of an Earl (on his mother’s side, at least) — Rainsford Sneed is perfectly positioned to be right at the top of Port Victory society, even before his share in the nutmeg business. 

And yet, here he is, once again, being shown up. And by raggedy Jack Dawkins, of all people — who is younger than he is by 2 years, with no background, no education, no standing, no fortune — absolutely nothing to recommend him at all! It is intolerable. 

And then he is not only being replaced in the surgical theatre but also in the heart of Lady Belle Fox, who he has been planning on marrying for at least the last 3 years — ! Well. It’s more than intolerable. 

And then the Governor’s younger daughter (who he doesn’t mind — she’s quite suitable, really) has the audacity to go and get engaged to that tiresome Mr. Twist, who has just shown up out of nowhere (although he is an Eton man, Sneed reminds himself, he cannot overlook a fellow Eton man). And all of his chances to become the Governor’s son-in-law are quite dashed. Somehow this also feels like Dawkins’ fault, for he somehow knows that damned Mr. Twist. At least he knows he will be appointed the head surgeon when Prof retires (this cannot come soon enough, he thinks). And he has the share in the nutmeg business. He is not completely devoid of standing in this world.

At some point in the last year, he has become uncomfortably aware that Dawkins is quite a good doctor. Very good, in fact.

More than good. 

It does not trouble him really, not at first. For it keeps him sharp. It is a little boring to only have Prof to compete with, because Prof — while intelligent — is too drunk and disorganized to really challenge him much. 

And then it begins to trouble him rather a lot. 

And then there had been the whole terrible business with Lady Belle and the duel, and that damned Uncle of Dawkins’ had actually shot him in the thigh (He did appreciate that Dawkins had the good sense to save his leg. And that Lady Belle’s ideas had made such a thing possible). Well, he preferred not to think of it entirely. 

He had thought Dawkins was completely out of his mind when he realized what the man was thinking of doing to Lady Belle. The supposed aortic aneurysm. It was simply hysteria, he thought. He would dwell on any of the symptoms that gave him pause when he examined Lady Belle. It was a perforated ulcer, he told himself sternly, refusing to contemplate any other alternative. 

To insist on this aneurysm business was unprofessional - it was quackery! It was downright dangerous. No good could come of it. 

But something had changed - a little - as Sneed watched Dawkins work on Lady Belle, as Sneed had passed tool after tool to his rival. This lunatic might actually pull this off, he dares to think, as they worked, the gun pointed at Dawkins managing to alarm Sneed as well. And then the damnable fool had actually succeeded at doing the impossible. It was shocking (and more than a little impressive, if truth be told). 

He doesn’t like Dawkins. He doesn’t like his dirty clothing or his insolent attitude or his showboating style in the surgery theatre. He doesn’t like his mangy uncle (he’s not convinced this man is truly an uncle) or his (admittedly feeble) attempts to steal the head Surgeon job. Or his inappropriate relationship with Lady Belle. 

But, Goddamnit, he thinks, as Dawkins works the impossible, he might actually respect Jack Dawkins. If not as a man, at least as a doctor (what is the world coming to?).

And that is why he finds himself speaking up in Dawkins’ defence at the idea of sending the man to the noose. For as much as it is true that he does not love medicine with the ardour Lady Belle seemed to expect of him, he does respect it as profession. It is noble (mostly); it is learned; it is challenging; and it is prestigious, in this colony at least. What kind of head Surgeon would he be if he let Dawkins go to the gallows, after what he has seen? He cannot allow it.

And it is that voice in his head that sends him hurrying down the hallway after Lady Fanny Fox. And agreeing to — well, not help her, exactly (her quest sounds mad at best and illegal at worst). But to — provide information. To do something so that Dr. Dawkins doesn’t hang or rot on a chain-gang in the bush. 

It’s the right thing to do, after all. And it will show how eminently suited to leadership he is, how very right it is that he should lead this hospital — putting the future of the surgery ahead of his own petty grudges. And that can only benefit Sneed, even if it means that Dawkins might be back to making him grind his teeth in frustration every five minutes. Sneed knows that ambition sometimes requires sacrifices, and he hasn’t gotten this far to give up now. 

Damn Dawkins, he thinks, watching Lady Fanny retreat. Even from prison Dawkins is still managing to drag him into a mess he has no time for. Damn him to hell! 

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FOUR: FOX ON THE RUN

LADY FANNY FOX

It is only once Fanny reaches the entrance of the hospital that she realizes she has no idea where to go to find Dr. Dawkins’ uncle. Mr Fagin. Must be an uncle by marriage, she thinks, wondering at the name. Or perhaps a maternal uncle. She will find out.  Never mind that now, though. She must speak with him, and she tries to think who might know where he lives. 

Hetty, she decides, thinking of the head nurse. She might know. 

*** 

Hetty directs her to a public house called The Cat and Bagpipes, telling her she should be able to find Mr. Fagin there. This is a good first step, but she isn’t going into a public house by herself, she thinks, not if she can help it. 

She wishes, for the first time since this all began, that Mr. Twist was here – where has he gotten to? – for he could come along with her.  She must find a suitable man, she thinks, casting around -- 

***

“This is highly irregular,” Dr. Sneed says, as they walk towards the public house. “This is most improper.” 

“You did not have to come,” she says, shrugging.

“Of course I did,” he says, very annoyed. “Once you said you would go regardless of whether I accompanied you.”

“That was your decision.” 

“What I meant, in any event, was that it’s a highly improper place for a young lady to go, not that I couldn’t go there.” 

“Do you go there, then?” She asks, curious.

“I – I have. But I don’t care for it, generally.” He looks awkward. “It is too coarse.”

This is interesting. Oh, to be a man and be able to go anywhere, and yet choose not to. She is rather surprised she ever fell to pieces over this man, let alone lost sleep over the idea that he might prefer Belle.

“You don’t have much of a sense of adventure, do you, Dr. Sneed?” She says, in a buck up sort of tone. 

He sputters. “I did not think you were a foolhardy adventurer, Lady Fanny.” 

“Well,” she says, “I’m not, not really. But one does get tired of sitting around waiting for life to happen, doesn’t one? So when something like this falls in one’s lap, one must answer the call.” 

He stares at her, agog, but doesn’t say anything.

“Come on,” she gestures to him. “We’re here.” 

***

Hetty’s assessment is correct – bless her, Fanny should send her a pot of pepper jelly…once she improves the recipe, at least – Mr. Fagin is sitting in a booth, drinking a glass of what looks like beer.

“Hello,” Fanny says, drawing up next to the table, Dr. Sneed trailing in her wake. “Mr. Fagin?”

The man starts. “And ‘oo wants to know?” He narrows his eyes at her for a minute, trying to place her. “‘Ow do I know you?” 

“I am Lady Fanny Fox and I –” 

“Ah! I know!” He smacks the table. “You’re Fancy Skirt’s sister, you are. Aren’t you?” 

“Is that – do you mean Lady Belle?” 

“Lady Belle, Lady Cheekbones, Fancy Skirt,” Mr. Fagin says, nodding. “One and the same.”

“Oh, well, yes, I am her, then,” Fanny says, trying not to be flustered. “May I sit?” She gestures at the empty seat across from him.

“Oh, my dear, please sit. Where're me manners?” He nods to her, grinning. 

“Dr. Sneed?” Fanny looks at her companion, who is examining the bench as though he’s not sure he’s willing to risk sitting on it. 

“Oh, it’s you,” Mr. Fagin says dully, looking unimpressed.

Dr. Sneed sighs heavily, and sits down next to Fanny, gingerly, ignoring this comment. 

“To what do I owe this pleasure, then, my dear?” Mr. Fagin stretches back in his chair. “Not you, though,” he juts his chin out at Dr. Sneed. “You ain’t no pleasure and you ain’t my dear.” 

“Likewise,” Dr. Sneed says, stiffly, brushing imaginary dirt off of the table in front of him. “Can a man get a glass of brandy in here?”

“What am I, your servant? ‘Ow should I know?” Mr. Fagin tilts his head towards the bar. “Go on, then, if you need a tipple.” 

Dr. Sneed makes a face, but he stands, making his way to the bar. 

“Now, Mr. Fagin,” Fanny leans forward, trying to keep her voice suitably low. “I thought you had been arrested?” She asks, curious. “Along with Dr. Dawkins.”

“Blimey, Mr. Fagin, am I?” He laughs. “Just say Fagin, my dear, ‘t'ain’t natural to hear a toff call me Mr. Fagin.” 

“All right,” she says. She is not sure she wants to be called a toff, but she doesn’t think she can argue that she isn’t a toff. 

“But that’s right, my dear,” Fagin nods, his eyes bright and lively with the thrill of an audience. “I were in jail with poor old Dodge. Only fing was, I had a secret weapon, you see.” He leans in closer, lowering his voice for dramatic effect. “A pardon. A full pardon, your ladyship.” 

“A pardon? A full one?” Lady Fanny repeats these words, interested. “How – however did you manage that?”

“Ahh, my dear,” Fagin laughs. “I can’t share all my secrets.” 

“But then – then surely you can procure one for Dr. Dawkins?” 

He seems to deflate at these words, as though he is now remembering where the man in question is. “Blimey, I wish I could, Lady Fanny.” 

“Why can’t you?” 

He sighs heavily. “I may have obtained the pardon on…less than forthright grounds, from the now late Captain Gaines.” 

“Oh,” she says, trying to figure out what to ask next.

“Now,” Fagin eyes her beadily. “What has your Mr. Twist told you ‘bout me and the Dodge?” 

She hadn’t been expecting this question and frowns. “Only what he told everyone at dinner.” 

“Hmm,” Fagin says, noncommittally. “What’d you wanna see me for, then?” 

“Well,” Fanny says, carefully. “My sister – Lady Belle – is still recovering from the surgery  that Dr. Dawkins performed, you know.” Fagin nods. “And we have just learned that he was imprisoned – and I think it’s so terribly unfair, Mr. Fagin, for he saved her life! It was so romantic.” 

Fagin snorts. “Even the best of us gets felled by love, I s'pose. A man desperate to scrump a girl'll do anything, I guess. A man in love's ten times worse. Damn shame. Poor Dodge. Never thought he'd fall victim to it.” 

“Exactly,” Fanny nods, although she’s not sure if he’s actually agreeing with her. “And Belle needs him, and I need to make sure Belle recovers, and Dr. Dawkins is the only one for the job, so we must get him out of prison at once.” 

“What’re you tellin’ me for?” Fagin raises an eyebrow. “Ain’t your father the guv’nor?” 

“Yes,” Fanny says. “But – but I mean we need to come up with a plan.”

Dr. Sneed returns, carrying two glasses of brandy.

“Oh!” Fanny smiles at him. “For me?”

“No!” Dr. Sneed looks shocked. “I’m not in the habit of feeding gently-bred young ladies spirits in the middle of the day. These are both for me.”

Fagin snorts, and Fanny returns her attention to him. “Mr. Fagin, I think we shall need your help, for you seem to be good at…”

How, exactly, does one tell a man he seems good at evading the law without being downright insulting? Fanny has not had any practice in doing such a thing. 

“Slidin' out o’ the noose?” Fagin grins at her. “Why, thank you, thank you very much.”

“Precisely,” Fanny breathes, relieved she has not had to be the one to say it. “And I think that you may be able to assist with some elements that Lady Belle and I will not know how to…go about doing.” 

Fagin laughs, and drains his glass. “I’m listenin’.” He drains his glass, before cocking an eyebrow at Dr. Sneed. “What’s ‘e doin’ here, then? Don’t think ‘e’s got much experience in evadin' the gallows.”

Dr. Sneed splutters, and Fanny takes control of the situation. “He is here to assist with…medical information. Things like that.”

Fagin eyes him with dislike. “Ain’t ‘e the one ‘oo wanted to marry Dodge’s Fancy Skirt?” 

Dr. Sneed purses his lips at this remark. “I do not think it appropriate to call Lady Belle by–” 

“Oh, shut it, you,” Fagin says. “I was askin' Lady Ringlets, not you.” 

“Is that – is that me?” Fanny rather likes the idea of a nickname. Mr. Fagin seems to give people nicknames when he likes them, and Fanny’s never had a real nickname before (oh, of course Fanny is a nickname for Frances, and Belle calls her Fan sometimes, but she means a silly nickname that isn’t just a diminutive of one’s name). 

“Well, ‘t’ain’t this fellow,” Fagin nods at Dr. Sneed, and starts another drink that seems to have materialized at his elbow.

“How did you get served at the table?” Dr. Sneed demands to know.

“I’m a regular ‘round these here parts. They like me ‘ere,” Fagin says, defiantly. “Unlike you.” 

Dr. Sneed seems to accept this without argument, and sips his brandy quietly. 

“Well,” Lady Fanny says, trying to think of how best to explain things simply. “He did want to marry my sister, but he asked, and she said no, and then there was the duel business, and she’s really quite mad that he didn’t believe in her –whatever it was, the heart thing – and she’d never have married him anyway, whether she met Dr. Dawkins or not. And I think Dr. Sneed knows that by now, don’t you, Dr. Sneed?”

She elbows him under the table, surprised by her own daring, her tone firm. He nods. 

“Hmph,” Fagin says, doubtfully. “Only ‘ow do I know ‘e ain’t out to sabotage Dodger and send ‘im to the gallows?” 

“You have my word,” Dr. Sneed says, suddenly. “My sworn word, as a gentleman.” 

Fagin scoffs.

“Do you doubt me?” Dr. Sneed says, outraged. “A man’s word is his bond, sir! It is – it is a code of honour! A code we live by! A code –” 

Fagin laughs now. “My code is to never trust a toff further than you can throw ‘im.” 

Fanny does not want another fight to break out – and she’s not sure Dr. Sneed would come out of this one alive. 

“What if Dr. Sneed went and waited in a different booth?” Fanny asks, raising her eyebrows at Dr. Sneed. 

He protests weakly, but then accepts this, distracted by the second brandy he is working his way through.

“Now,” Fanny says, turning to him. “Where do I go to speak to Dr. Dawkins?”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FIVE: OUR MUTUAL FRIEND

DR. JACK DAWKINS

Lady Fanny Fox is probably the last person alive Jack Dawkins ever expected to see outside of his cell. 

He doesn’t really spend much time thinking of Lady Fanny Fox, in truth. But of all the people, she must be at the bottom of the list.  Of course, he could imagine Sneed coming here to gloat, or even Belle somehow managing to drag herself here, even though she shouldn’t be out of bed in her current state. Really, just about anyone in this entire colony seems more likely to have come to see him in jail than Lady Fanny Fox. 

“Hello,” she says, quite cheerfully. “This is dreadful, isn’t it?” 

“I – I beg your pardon?” He isn’t sure what to say to this, to be honest.

“This,” She gestures around. “It’s quite awful.” 

“I hadn’t noticed, milady,” he says, trying hard not to laugh. 

As different as Lady Fanny is from her sister, he finds a tiny note of commonality between the sisters when he notes Lady Fanny’s wide, naive eyes. They remind him slightly – just slightly – of how Belle had looked the first time she’d come to the surgery for training, exclaiming in shock at the state of the hospital – unable to believe that anyone could be made to spend time in such an unpleasant place. He finds himself smiling, in spite of this dreadful place. 

“You can’t have been looking closely, then,” she says, and he cannot tell if she is joking or not. 

“I suppose not,” he says, after a long pause. “Er – Lady Fanny, I – please do not take offence, but – what are you doing here?” 

“Oh!” She says, and she doesn’t seem offended, not really. “Of course. I quite forgot. Belle –” 

Is she – has she brought some kind of message from Belle? His heart is hammering uncomfortably hard at the thought of this – he does not want Belle overexerting herself, but the thought that she could be working to do something, anything for him, is making his heart swell painfully with emotion. 

“Is Belle all right?” Jack asks, suddenly fearful that Lady Fanny is here with bad news. “How is her recovery? Tell me everything. Please.” He adds the final word as an afterthought, suddenly remembering who he is speaking to. 

“Well, I believe you saw her wake up,” Lady Fanny recounts serenely. “Before those rather large men tackled you. That looked dreadful, by the way. And she has been all right, I suppose.”

“You suppose?” His voice is torn between testy and fearful, neither of which is the note he wants to hit. “What do you mean?

Lady Fanny creeps a little closer to the bars, looking around nervously. “I do not know much about medical matters, Dr. Dawkins.” 

I know, he wants to say, but settles for nodding politely. She takes a deep breath and continues. 

“Nothing appears to have gone wrong, I suppose. She is still sleeping quite heavily, most of the time. Only I fear – I fear that Dr. Sneed is not…up to the task of overseeing her recovery.” 

He knows something of Lady Fanny’s fondness for Sneed and he raises an eyebrow at her. “I thought you thought the world of Dr. Sneed?” 

She makes a face, and lets out a little huffy sound. “I do think he is a good doctor, of course. But even he admits that this is a novel surgery he knows little about. And since you carried it out, I think you can make sure she recovers from it.” 

Jack is torn between the desire to gloat at the news that Sneed admits his own superior skill, and his anxiety about Belle’s health. “I assure you, Lady Fanny, that if it were up to me, I would not leave Be–Lady Belle’s bedside. There is nothing I want more than to oversee Lady Belle’s recovery.” 

“Excellent,” she says with a large smile, nodding enthusiastically. “I knew you would agree. That's sorted, then.”

“Er – “ He breaks off, and looks around them, gesturing. Does she not see the problem?  “Yes, but, how am I to do that from here? I am in prison, as you may have noticed. You did think it was quite dreadful, so I assume you have.” 

“Oh, yes, that,” she says, frowning. 

That , as though prison is no small thing. This is another thing that reminds him of Belle – the fearless resolve in the path of something she wants, the almost-placid refusal to entertain a world where she does not obtain her desired result. Treating extraordinary obstacles and challenges as though they are quite simple, moveable ones. 

“We must extricate you from this cell, of course,” she says, very simply. "That will be the first step." 

He gives her a tight smile, his fondness for her growing even while his frustration mounts. “I do not wish to shock you, milady, but I am certain I will be hanged.” 

“No,” Lady Fanny says, serene again – and Jack’s heart leaps in his chest, even as he cautions himself not to place too much stock in what she says. He has observed enough of her to know she can be rather…unexamined. 

“No?” He asks her, dumbstruck. “What makes you say that?”

“Father has told mother he won’t sign the death warrant,” she says, smiling, as though they are having a pleasant discussion over tea. “He is very impressed with your surgical skill.” 

“I – really?” 

“Yes, of course. You did save his daughter’s life!” Lady Fanny looks at him earnestly, as though he does not know this. 

“But your mother –” 

“Oh, yes, Mother is in a rage,” Lady Fanny agrees enthusiastically. “But I do think you won’t be hanged at least. Or put to death in some other way – I am not really sure what all the various ways are.” 

Well, Jack thinks, his heart calming a little – he is still not entirely sure if she is a reliable source – this is something. 

“Can you take a message to your sister for me?” He asks her, desperate to tell Belle that he would be by her side if it was possible. 

“Yes, yes,” she says, impatiently. “But we must discuss practical matters first.” 

He slumps back against the wall, and lifts up an eyebrow, entreating her to continue. 

“I have spoken with Dr. Sneed, and he is going to aid us in our quest.”

“I – you – what?” He is on his feet at this, horrified. “You cannot – Sneed? He will tell your parents right away, I am sure of it. I am as good as dead if he is involved, Lady Fanny--” 

“No,” she says, calmly, a dreamy look on her face that he is coming to see means she is contemplating something. “He has agreed with me, you see, that you ought to oversee Belle’s recovery. And, besides, he agrees that you are a talented doctor and ought not to die.” 

Jack isn’t quite sure what to say to this, and simply gawks at Lady Fanny instead. Well, he thinks, the world has turned upside down if Rainsford Sneed has admitted these things. 

“Are you – are you quite sure?” he asks, after a long moment. “You didn’t – misunderstand? Or misinterpret?” 

This ruffles her a little bit, to his surprise. “I am not a fool, Dr. Dawkins.” Her voice is surprisingly arch. 

“I did not mean to imply…” he trails off, awkwardly. “I am sorry.” 

She shrugs, serene again. “Oh, everyone thinks I am a fool, Dr. Dawkins. You are not the only one. But no, I did not misunderstand. Dr. Sneed told me so himself.” 

“And so – what – what is this plan?” Jack asks, unwilling to believe (as much as he badly wants to) that Belle’s silly sister could possibly have a proper plan in place. 

“The best course of action,” Lady Fanny tells him, “is if you are simply pardoned on all counts, I think.” 

“Yes,” he grits out, trying not to lose his temper. “Yes, that would be the best scenario, but it’s rather a difficult scenario to obtain, don’t you think?”

“Your uncle managed it, as I understand?” Lady Fanny looks at him. “I paid him a visit.”

“You –” He breaks off again, unable to picture Lady Fanny and Fagin in conversation about this. “You spoke to Fagin?”

“Of course.” She nods. “I assumed he would be similarly concerned about your present situation.”

“So,” Jack pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to grasp the reality of this situation. “The team working to secure my freedom consists of you, Fagin, and Dr. Sneed?” 

“And Belle,” Lady Fanny says, nodding. “She is asleep, most of the time. But I know she is with us in spirit.” 

This, he thinks, is not exactly the crack team he would assemble in a time of great need. Whatever team he would have imagined assembling would certainly not have included Lady Fanny Fox or Dr. Sneed. 

Still , he thinks, he’ll take what he can get . He doesn't have a lot of options, after all. 

Chapter Text

CHAPTER SIX: QUICK AS A FOX

LADY BELLE FOX

Lady Belle Fox has never been good at sitting still, let alone lying in bed. She was born to be in motion – mind, hands, mouth, feet – and she’s never been a very good patient, as a result.  But it turns out having one’s chest sliced open and one’s heart operated on can take even the most impatient and energetic of women and turn her into a positive vegetable. 

Her final memory, before succumbing to the ether, had been all Jack – Jack, his eyes on her, his tortured face, his gentle kiss, his whispered I love you. And her final thought had been that she trusted him, that she loved him, that she wishes she could tell him this. And she will, she had thought, fiercely, for she will see him again. For she is not going to die. She has decided it, and so it is true. 

And the next thing she knows, she is stirring in a very comfortable bed, her chest aching and her whole body feeling like it’s been slammed into a wall, her throat dry and painful. 

And when she sees Jack, she feels as though she must still be dreaming, for he looks like he is some distance away, through glass – and she knows this cannot be right, she knows Jack should be by her side, would be by her side –  And then she notices how filthy he looks, how panicked – is he in chains? – and then he is being tackled by police officers. 

“Jack!” she tries to cry out, but she cannot seem to form the words properly, her throat painfully dry. “Jack!” 

And her parents are hovering above her, and this is most tiresome – they are both in her face, speaking at her, touching her hair and her hands, and she cannot think like this. 

She needs a friend, a comrade, an ally – Jack, she needs Jack, she thinks, desperately. And there is no one who can help her, no one at all – 

Her gaze falls on her sister’s stricken face over their mother’s shoulder. Her sister, she thinks, remembering how Fanny had listened to her through the door. How encouraging her sister has been of her romance with Jack – although she thinks that Fanny would encourage any romance with anyone, really. 

Fanny will have to do, she thinks.

And then she is falling back into sleep, as though dragged into unconsciousness by something stronger than even her iron will.

*** 

The next time she wakes up, she is alone in her room, and she does not know what time of day it is, or where her family is, or what is happening.  She tries to sit up in bed, but this is so completely impossible, she is really only able to twitch herself further up onto the pillows before she is crying out with pain. 

To her tremendous relief, she sees Hetty come into the room, shortly followed by Dr. Sneed – and her heart sinks at that, for she does not want to speak of Jack in front of Dr. Sneed. She feels certain that Hetty will aid her in finding out what has become of Jack, but she does not trust Dr. Sneed. 

“Oh dear,” Hetty clucks her tongue. “Do not try to get up, please. It will only make things worse.” Hetty adjusts the pillows underneath her, easing her back into a more comfortable position. 

“Sneed,” Belle says, which seems very difficult to get out. 

The man in question meets her gaze, looking very guilty. “How are you feeling?” 

“I've been better,” she rasps out. “I've been worse.” 

Hetty stifles a laugh, pouring her a glass of water, and helping Belle to drink it – she gets about half of it down and the other half ends up down her nightdress. 

“You were right, in the end,” Dr. Sneed says, stiffly. “About the aneurysm.” 

This shocks her so much she cannot speak – and speaking is already difficult enough as it is. 

“I am – I am sorry,” He says, his mouth in a tight line, looking at the ceiling. “I am sorry.” 

This is something, and she is quite surprised by it. “I – thank you.” 

She cannot stifle the anger she still feels, still boiling inside her, at the idea that her entire life had rested on needing to convince a man – this man – of the ticking timebomb that was her heart, and that she had been ignored. That she had been screaming for a man of lesser intellect to please save her life, only to have it fall on deaf ears.

Thank God for Jack, she thinks, fervently. Thank God.  But she does not have the energy to say any of this now, so she does not. 

“Thank you,” she repeats. “But I think you – you owe me.” 

“Doubtless I do,” he says, giving her a wry smile. 

“Do I have your word?” She asks him. “That you will do me a favour?”  He looks a little nervous, and she cannot blame him, for this could range anywhere from bringing her a copy of The Lancet to read, or ceding the Head Surgeon position to Jack.  “Remember how I almost died? How you almost consigned me to death?” She prompts him. "All because you were determined not to anger my parents?"

“Yes,” he says, looking ashamed. “Yes, you have my word.”

“Good,” she says, and Hetty uses this opportunity to force her to drink more water. 

She cannot tell Dr. Sneed what she wants while she is drinking, and he takes the opportunity to leave the room (damn him!). When Hetty is done force-feeding her, Belle starts to pepper her with questions. 

“Where is Jack? What has become of him? Is he – is he –” 

Hetty tells her the whole sorry tale, and Belle cannot stay calm as she listens to it, crying out in indignation at every other word.

“Lady Belle,” Hetty says, firmly. “You must stop exclaiming like this, or I will stop telling the story. You are going to disturb your sutures.” 

“Fine,” she says, irritated, feeling more like herself. “I will restrain myself.” 

Hetty finishes the story.

“Well,” Belle asks, even more anger coursing through her. “What are we going to do?” 

“We?” Hetty looks at her. “You cannot sit up.”  Belle glares at her, and Hetty smiles. “I know what you meant.” 

“Well?” 

“I cannot make any promises,” Hetty tells her. “I cannot risk my position here, Lady Belle.”

“But –” Belle sputters indignantly. “Jack –” 

“Yes,” Hetty nods. “Jack is a great doctor and a good friend, and I will do what I can to get you information, Lady Belle. That is all I can promise.” 

***

When she next wakes up, her sister’s large, unblinking eyes are floating above her. 

It is most disconcerting. 

“Fanny!” She exclaims, trying again to sit up. 

“Oh, goodness.” Her sister looks very worried. “I don’t think you’re supposed to do that.” 

Belle tries again, and it’s really not working, she’s far too exhausted, and it hurts far too much. Fanny sits in the seat beside her bed and takes her hand in hers, squeezing it fondly. This is nice, and Belle squeezes back. 

“I have been working diligently on everything, Belly,” Fanny says, nodding, her eyes bright and shiny. “You would be so proud of me. You will be so proud of me, I mean. I have spoken to simply everyone who could help, I have made the best efforts I possibly could–” 

Fanny is talking very quickly now, and Belle cannot keep up, her head spinning.  “What – what are you talking about?” 

“Why – I am updating you, of course,” Fanny says, sounding almost hurt. “On the quest.” 

“Updating me? What quest?”

“The one you charged me with! Of rescuing Dr. Dawkins.” 

Belle gapes at her sister. “Oh, Fanny!” She exclaims, and the way she gasps makes her chest hurt quite a lot. 

“Why are you so shocked?” Fanny looks half-hurt, half-confused. “You asked me to do it.”

“Oh, Fanny!” And Belle cannot believe she is crying now, but she is – the pain, the emotion, the exhaustion of the last week crashing into her in this moment – and she is overwhelmed with love for her silly little sister. And she feels very guilty at the hurt, stricken look on her sister’s face – that her sister knows she hadn’t expected her to do much, hadn’t thought her capable of much – and yet she has tried her best to do it anyway. “I love you, you goose.”

And then Fanny is perched on her bed, embracing her, and they are both crying like sentimental little fools. 

***

“And, so,” Fanny concludes her update, “I have spoken with Dr. Dawkins, and he wants to be here as badly as you want him here. And Dr. Sneed agrees, as does Mr. Fagin. It is only that – well, I am not really sure what exactly to do now, you see.” 

“You absolute dear,” Belle clutches her hand, still feeling very teary. “If I ever criticise you again –” 

“I shall know you are fully recovered and back to yourself,” Fanny tells her sister, unable to resist laughing.

“But about Jack,” Belle says, her attention turning back to him, for her mind has been turning this over and over in every waking moment. “We must devise a plan – there must be a way to…challenge things legally. We should prepare a case. Father must have legal texts in his library.” 

“I think first we should speak to Father,” Fanny says, slowly. “Before we worry about that.” 

Belle tilts her head, as though weighing the suggestion. “I suppose I could speak to Father–” 

“I should be the one to speak to Father,” Fanny says, surprising Belle. “Not you.”

Belle does not agree with this and goes about telling her so. 

“I agree,” Fanny nods placidly. “But it is going to make everyone very suspicious if it comes from you, you see? Mother will immediately suspect you of an ulterior motive.” 

Belle frowns. She hasn’t thought of this, and she sees Fanny’s point. 

“But I need more information, Belle. Has he proposed marriage?” 

Belle feels like she must tell Fanny the whole truth – or at least some version of it, and she feels very nervous, but like this is very important, and that she cannot keep it contained any longer.  “Fanny, if I tell you something, you must not tell another living soul. Including the dog.” 

“Sister’s promise!” Fanny exclaims, her eyes bright with excitement.

“You mustn’t tell Mr. Twist, or Father, or Dr. Sneed, or — “ She breaks off, trying to think of someone else her sister has to speak to and finds no one.

“I told you, sister’s promise!” Fanny insists. “I meant it!” 

“When I thought I would…when I thought I was dying, Jack came to see me in my bedroom, and we…” Belle turns pinker than she wants, wishing she was more composed than this. “We had congress.” 

“Sexual congress?” Fanny whispers, eyes as round as saucers. 

“Do you know what that that is?” Belle cannot imagine her sister knows, not with those trees she’s been drawing. 

“You’re not the only one who can read books, Belle. That’s the only interesting part of your medical books.” Fanny gives her a pointed look. 

Belle bursts out laughing, which hurts her stitches quite badly, but it is worth it, she thinks. She does love her sister. “You are more like me than you think, Fan.” 

“But I don’t understand,” Fanny is confused, and ignores the comment. “I thought it was only possible if one was married,” 

“Oh, that’s just what they tell us, Fan.”

“Goodness,” her sister breathes, looking thrilled and scandalized and excited and overwhelmed. “You must tell me everything!”

“Well,” Belle turns very red. “I shan’t tell you everything…”

“Oh, please!”

“But I will tell you some things, if you let me get the rest of the story out first.”

At this, Fanny folds her hands in her lap prepared to listen attentively. The picture of a model pupil. 

“Mother knows.”

Fanny moves to start speaking again and Belle gives her a sharp look. “Let me continue, please. Jack and I were…in bed, embracing, undressed. And she came in. And it was very obvious to Mother what had occurred. She spoke to Jack, then, and told him he had to leave Port Victory, that he could never see me again, that he had ruined me —” 

“But surely that’s all wrong!” Fanny exclaims, looking aghast. “Surely, the proper thing to do in that situation is to demand he marry you!”

Belle loves her baby sister so much, she thinks, her heart almost sore with it, and she squeezes her sister’s hand again.  “You goose,” she whispers. “That would be if — if Jack were suitable. If he were like us, or…or Sneed…” The thought of having congress with Sneed is simultaneously laughable and horrifying, and she struggles not to laugh. 

“But — he has — you have…” Fanny is struggling with words, struggling to express an apparently unwieldy concept. “He has taken your virtue. And your virtue belongs to your husband. And so he must be your husband, musn’t he? It’s a sign he is meant to be your husband!”

This brand of warped logic is so very Fanny that it makes Belle grin. Mothers ought to be a little bit more aware of what they teach their daughters, she thinks, suppressing a laugh. Surely, Mother had never dreamt Fanny would use her careful warnings about saving your virtue for your husband to construct such an argument. 

“Why are you laughing?” Fanny exclaims. “It is very sensible. It makes perfect sense. Your virtue belongs to your husband. Dr. Dawkins has taken your virtue. Therefore, Dr. Dawkins must be your husband.”

“I wish you would stop calling it my virtue,” Belle says, embarrassed. “He didn’t take anything.”

Fanny’s eyes widen even further. “There was another? Before him?”

“Don’t be an idiot!,” Belle laughs. “I only mean that it wasn’t — it’s not some sort of…transaction. It’s not like it’s a…thing to give. Or like I lost something. Or like he took something from me, or like…”

Fanny is hanging onto her sister’s every word now. “But Mother says —

“Oh, I know what Mother says,” Belle rolls her eyes. “But the medical texts explain it differently. And…” she flushes, lowering her voice. “First-hand experience is very different from medical texts.”

“Now you must tell me!” Fanny says. “Or how else am I to know? It is not fair that you know and I don’t.”

“It is…” Belle turns very pink and does not look directly at her sister. “With the right man, it is incredible, Fanny. It was — it was pleasure I never imagined. I was so happy I thought I would die.”

“Was it like kissing?”

“A little bit,” Belle says, trying to be clinical in her evaluation, and failing. “But so much more…better. And you — you do kiss during congress, Fanny. I don’t think I had realized that — the medical texts do not explain that.”

“Is it painful?”

“A little bit, at the beginning. There are things the man can do to…reduce the pain, beforehand. He was very gentle, very considerate…very aware of…pleasing me. Only I don’t know — I don’t know if every man does. It still hurt, at first, but then it was not painful anymore — it was…” Belle blushes again. “It was unlike anything else in this world, Fan.”

Fanny is agog.

“I will never regret it. Never. I could never regret giving myself to Jack, even if —”  Belle closes her eyes, looking pained. “Even if we cannot marry. If we cannot be together. Even if I marry another man some day, I will never regret that Jack was the first.”

“But you must!” Fanny exclaims, sitting up straight.  “You must marry! True love must triumph in the end, musnt it? Besides,” Fanny says, thinking hard. “It is a sign. I know it is a sign.”

“What is a sign?”

“That you do not regret it. That you said he was the one who you wanted to take — to have—” Fanny breaks off. 

“You can just say it,” Belle sighs.

“To have your virtue.” Belle rolls her eyes. “It means he is your husband! Or he is meant to be. You just got there a little…quickly. You just got the steps a little…jumbled.”

“There are no such thing as signs, Fanny.”

“Yes, there are! You gave yourself to him when you thought you were dying — and then he saved your life! Belle, he repaired your heart! It’s so romantic. It’s so perfect. It’s a fairy tale.”

Privately, Belle agrees, but she feels too silly to admit it.

“Had he asked you, then?” Fanny says, eagerly. “Tell me everything.”

“No, he has not,” Belle admits.

Fanny makes a noise in her throat that seems torn between outrage and disappointment.  “He will,” she says, sounding confident. “Surely, he will?”

“He asked me to run away with him,” Belle says, and there is something thrilling about sharing this with someone, she has to admit. “To leave, to run away to the Pacific Islands and live with him.”

“But that is — not marriage.” Fanny looks thrilled but also scandalized. 

“I had told him, then, that congress would not happen unless we were wed. And he told me it would not be possible, that the world would never allow it. And I believe he intended that we would marry, if I had agreed to run away with him.” Belle frowns, trying to remember, trying to sort out what she believes.“He loves me, Fanny, and I believe he would ask me today if he could. He would never use me. I trust him completely. With my life.”

And these words are quite literal, both sisters know, as much as they are figurative.

Fanny squeezes her sister’s hand. “So you will be married, as soon as he can ask you, then.”

Belle gives her sister an incredulous look. “Fan, he is in prison. And mother and father will…” she falls silent again, thinking everything over. “I am afraid they will have him put to death, or banished, or consigned to rot in some cell somewhere, unless I agree to give him up”

“That would be very romantic…” Fanny sighs.

Belle gives her a stern look. “Fanny! Be serious, please.” 

“Well, we shall simply have to free him, and convert Mother and Father to our way of thinking.”

“And what is our way of thinking?” Belle looks at her sister. 

“That this is true love, and true love must win the day.” Fanny beams at her, and Belle is torn between fondness for her sister and annoyance over her endless optimism. 

“I only tell you all of this so you can think tactically, Fanny,” Belle says, a little peeved. “I need you to think carefully. About what you will say to Father. Mother believes Jack to be a criminal, a thief, the worst sort of blackguard who would use me as a whore — who did use me as a whore. She thinks that what happened between us is evidence of his true nature — of how coarse and indecent and morally loose he is. She has not told Father, and I do not know what Father would do if he found out.” 

“Perhaps Father would insist he marry you!” Fanny brightens. 

“Or perhaps Father would sign that death warrant after all,” Belle says, grimly. 

Fanny slumps at this. “We will find a solution,” she says, undaunted. “You must simply continue to tell me more.”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER SEVEN: SLY AS A FOX

LADY BELLE FOX

The sisters are still discussing tactics. 

“And the other problem is that he has no living, no money, no salary, Fanny. Of course I do not care but it seems that such things are really quite important in the world.”

“But if he were to be Head Surgeon,” Fanny says, voicing the next thought before Belle can say it. “He would have a house and it would be a paid position. With that and your dowry, you could have a very suitable life together, don’t you think?”

Belle stifles a smile. “My dowry may be too much to hope for, Fan.”

“What if…” Fanny casts around now, thinking hard. “What if you were…with child?” She whispers the words as though she is saying something very scandalous. 

“How do you know about how–” Belle is impressed with her sister’s curiosity. 

“I told you! I read those portions of your books.” Fanny gives her a keep up look. “So, if they thought you were, would they make him marry you then?”

“Jack will not need to be made to marry me—

“Oh, from their point of view, Belly, don’t be so literal.”

“Mother said she would send me to Uncle George in India and have the child adopted out, before bringing me back here.”

“That is a terrible plan,” Fanny shakes her head. “I am surprised Mother would suggest such a thing.”

“What do you mean?” Belle frowns. “It is a cruel plan, to be sure, but it is most efficient…and he is her brother, he will keep her secrets for her. He must protect the family name.”

Fanny gives her a funny, knowing smile. “Oh, I do like it when I figure something out before you do.”

“Fanny! What do you mean?”

“Only that there are far more English people who go to India than to Australia! It is a terrible place to send someone to keep something secret. You know how gossip travels. It would get back to everyone in an instant. Or in a year, at least. They would never keep it properly quiet there. In many ways, it would make more sense for Uncle George to send a wayward daughter of his to stay with us here in Port Victory,” Fanny snorts at the idea.

Belle looks at her sister, stunned and really quite impressed. “Fanny,” she says, slowly, “I think you might be onto something…”

“And,” Fanny continues, feeling victorious. “Uncle George is the Viceroy. He’s a Baron and a future Earl for pity’s sake. He’s in Calcutta, in the middle of everything. His house is constantly hosting visiting peers and dignitaries. India is full of peers and gentry and Company men! Australia is full of criminals and vagabonds, and...us, of course.”

“So you are saying that she cannot make good on that threat, without undermining her entire plan?”

“Precisely,” Fanny nods. “Perhaps she does know that and she just knew you are so unconcerned with gossip and society that you would not put the pieces together.”

“She didn’t count on you, then,” Belle squeezes her sister’s hand. 

“No one ever does,” says Fanny, sighing. 

“But is there somewhere else she could send me, that would be better than India? You must think, Fanny.”

Belle is going to use Fanny’s thorough knowledge of gossip and society to her advantage, if it’s the last thing she does.

“Well,” Fanny says, practically. “She must send you to stay with family, musn’t she? Someone who can be guaranteed to keep the secret. Who has as much to lose as we do. So let’s think of the options.” Fanny names them. “We’ll start with father’s side. They are all in England, aren’t they? So she cannot send you to stay with Uncle Dickie. No one is sending their pregnant unwed daughter off to stay with a Duke!”

Belle breaks into laughter at that. “Can you imagine?”

— “or Auntie Emily, for she and Uncle Ambrose are very involved in London society…and Auntie Violet is the same way…and Auntie Maria is a Viscountess!” She lists their father’s sisters, ticking them off on her fingers. 

“There isn’t a…a great-aunt or someone we’re forgetting about?”

“No,” Fanny shakes her head. “Remember how old grandfather was? All of his siblings are dead as well.”

“All right, now do mother’s side.”

Fanny dutifully begins listing them. “Uncle George in India, as we discussed. Uncle Albert is an MP, and that won’t do. Uncle William is always on some ship or other, sailing around the world. Uncle John…” she frowns, thinking. “I think he might have some holdings in the West Indies…but he does not live there, of course!” 

“Of course,” Belle says, wryly. 

“Uncle Thomas is an archbishop,” Fanny grins at her sister. “Can you imagine?”

Belle snorts. “Sending one’s unwed, pregnant daughter to stay with an archbishop? Hardly.”

“And Aunt Isabella is Lady Wyndham, you know…Uncle Edwin is a baronet, and they are always in London for the season.” 

“What about Aunt Louisa?” Belle asks. “Isn’t she married to…someone?”

“You are so bad at this,” Fanny marvels. “It’s quite fun.” 

Belle scowls at her sister.

“Yes,” Fanny says, conceding this point. “Aunt Louisa could be a problem. Uncle Fitzwilliam is always being appointed to various things, after all.”

“Like what?” Belle presses her. “Think, Fanny, it’s important.”

“Well,” Fanny is thinking slowly. “They were in Victoria, you know, on Vancouver Island, until a year ago, where he was….somebody. But they are back in London, now, I’m quite sure of it.”

“But what if he gets sent somewhere else?” Belle asks, nervously. “Canada, or another colony? Somewhere remote.”

“Canada is not so remote anymore,” Fanny says. “It is much less remote than we are here, after all.”

“Yes, but what about somewhere else – the Cape Colony, Hong Kong, Singapore?” 

“Hmm,” Fanny frowns. “Didn’t – wasn’t there something…bad near the Cape Colony?” 

“The war in South Africa?” Belle gives her sister an incredulous look.

“Oh, yes, that must be it.” Fanny shrugs. “I suppose there is always the risk that Uncle Fitzwilliam and Aunt Louisa could end up in Hong Kong or Singapore. But I feel like those places are quite established already. Oh, there is always New Zealand, though!”  

They are both silent, thinking. 

“I suppose Mother could always send me to someone, in a far off part of this colony? Here in Australia?” 

“It won’t be safe, though, Everyone knows that Port Victory is the most advanced city here after Sydney. No one where else in Australia even has a proper hospital.” Fanny says, shaking her head. “Mother won’t risk it. And with your heart! Surely you will need a doctor familiar with your heart to deliver the baby.”

“Suppose there isn’t a baby,” Belle asks her. “It is most likely that there won’t be a baby.”

Fanny thinks about this. “Yes, but mother and father don’t know that. And you could be married to Dr. Dawkins before they figure it out.”

“So, the plan is that we convince our parents that I am with Dr. Dawkins’ bastard child and the only way to avoid social ruin is to have us marry, and have him promoted to head surgeon?”

“Precisely, yes,” Fanny nods, clearly pleased her sister has caught up. “That’s exactly it.”

“And you really think this is going to work?” Belle does not know how her sister manages to suggest this plan as though it is as simple as clicking one's fingers.

“Of course it will,” she nods. “He’s a doctor. He’s not that far from respectability. And it’s really a very silly thing to let stand in the way of all of this.”

“What about the threat of – of Uncle Fitzwilliam? Being appointed somewhere remote where I could be sent? New Zealand, or elsewhere?” 

“We must simply ensure that she cannot keep it quiet if she were to send you away.”

“Oh,” Belle rolls her eyes at her sister. “Is that all? How are we going to do that?"

“We are going to use the most powerful tool I can think of,” Fanny says firmly. 

Belle frowns at her sister, who has already rejected the use of the legal system. “What on earth are you talking about?” 

“Gossip,” Fanny says, pleased as punch. “We are going to use gossip to get you what you want.” 

***

LADY FANNY FOX

Fanny goes to see Dr. Dawkins again in prison, accompanied by his Uncle Fagin this time. 

“Good news,” she announces.

He raises an eyebrow at her. “Oh? Do you come bearing a full pardon?”

“Not yet,” Fanny says, mildly. “But we have a plan.”

“Do go on.”

She explains it to him very simply. “If mother and father think that Belle is with child, they will have to let you two marry. And then the only way to make it respectable is if you become Head Surgeon, and then with her dowry you can live reasonably well. Not very well, of course, but enough to make it acceptable.”

“I — what?” Dr. Dawkins sounds horrified. “Belle is with child?! I need - I must see her - I must..."

“It’s like I always says, Dodge, a good thief knows when to pull out,” Fagin grins, half-laughing, half-chastising. “And ‘ere I thought you were smart.” 

Fanny doesn’t know what this means, and thinks it’s rather missing the point, so she doesn’t address it. 

“No,” Fanny says, patiently. “Well — I suppose she could be, we don’t know. It does not matter what the truth of it is, you see. It only matters what our parents believe.”

“I like her,” Fagin says to Dr. Dawkins. “I appreciate her grasp of, er, moral fluidity.”

Fanny does like to be liked. She’s not sure if moral fluidity is such a good thing, but she smiles regardless.

“So it’s a trick, then?” Dr. Dawkins is catching on.

“Not a trick, really,” Fanny says. “That makes it sound so dishonest! It’s just…presenting information in a certain way to achieve a certain result.”

Fagin and Dr. Dawkins both laugh. 

“She would’ve made a right fine member of our gang, back in the day, eh, Dodge? A little bit o’ trainin’, and milady here would’ve been talkin’ every toff in Mayfair outta their dosh.”

“I — er,” Fanny frowns. “I do not think that is a compliment.”

Fagin waves a hand at her. “Oh, ‘tis the highest compliment I can give, milady.”

Dawkins is grinning now, and she doesn’t really know why. “Sleight of hand. I see.” 

“More or less,” she agrees. 

“But what — what of your mother’s threat to send Belle to India? To your Uncle?”

Fanny sighs. Is this what Belle feels like, all the time, trying to explain basic facts to lesser minds? Goodness, it is tiring. She does feel for her sister. 

She explains, again very patiently, that it simply makes no sense to send Belle to India. That doing such a thing will only put Belle’s reputation at greater risk than staying here and marrying Dr. Dawkins.

“But your mother is no fool,” Dr. Dawkins says, still unconvinced. “She’s a remarkably shrewd person.”

She is struck, for some reason, by the fact that he calls mother a shrewd person and not a shrewd woman.

“Yes,” Fanny agrees, nodding. “And that is what tripped us — Belle and I — up at first. But then I realized that Mother is very shrewd — so shrewd that she knows Belle does not know a thing about society, not really. That she’s never bothered to learn. And so she wouldn’t spot the hole in the logic.”

“But you do,” Dr Dawkins nods, catching on now. “Don’t you?”

“Of course I know about society!” Fanny says. “Imagine! It’s like asking a person if they can read.”

The words hang in front of them, uncomfortably, until Dr. Dawkins clears his throat. “I can read,” he says, not looking at her, his voice strained. “I am simply — I am not very good at it.”

“That’s all right,” Fanny says, feeling surprised by the rush of fondness she feels for him. “I am not very good with numbers, you know. They sort of…swim around the page for me.”

He gapes at her. “Yes! Exactly! That is precisely how I feel about reading.”

“Well,” Fanny regards him, curious. “You are much smarter than I am. So I think it is all right that you cannot read.”

“I can read,” he repeats. “Just not well.”

“I cannot do sums,” she shrugs. “So you are already better than I am. And we are all bad at some things. Belle never reads novels, after all.”

“But Belle is an excellent reader —

“Oh, of course she can ,” Fanny says, emphasizing the last word. “That is the maddening thing about her. She is much too good at far too many things. But I just mean she never reads them, it takes her an age, and she’s not the best writer. Her letters are most uninspired — always full of details and observations, but never the kind one wants. No gossip, no observations on clothes, no narrative arc. It’s like reading a laboratory report.”

For some reason this makes Dr. Dawkins smile very fondly. 

“Anyway,” Fanny says, “I simply meant that everyone is good at some things. You and Belle are very smart, and you are both far better than I am at many things, so it does not matter that you are not very good at everything.”

“Belle is very good at everything,” he immediately insists.

It charms her as much as it annoys her — to see how dearly he loves her sister, even as she thinks her sister ought not to be entirely deified, it cannot be good for her ego.

“Most things,” Fanny concedes. 

“Are we goin’ to make a plan ‘ere, or simply be composin’ an endless ode to Lady Cheekbones all day?” Fagin asks. 

“Mr. Fagin is right,” Fanny agrees.

“Cor, Mr. Fagin, is it?” He grins at her quite fondly. “I quite fancy the sound o’ that.”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER EIGHT: WOMEN TALKING

LADY FANNY FOX

Fanny and Belle are to handle the bulk of the plot.

First, Fanny writes many long, effusive letters to many of their cousins about their lives in Australia, about the very impressive Dr. Jack Dawkins, who her sister spends so much time with, and how she rather thinks there might be the beginnings of a tendresse between them.

Belle insists she belabour the point rather more than even Fanny thinks is truly necessary.

“This plan is not going to fail simply because Cousin Mary cannot read between the lines, Fan.”

And so letters are posted off to the four corners of the earth — 

On the Fox side, to the daughters of Aunt Emily (Jane, Elizabeth, Henrietta), Aunt Violet (Anne), and Aunt Maria (Julia and Susan). 

On their mother’s side, most crucially to the daughters of Uncle George (Mary, Victoria, Caroline), but also to the daughters of Uncle Albert (Georgina, Lydia), Uncle John (another Elizabeth), Uncle Thomas (another Jane), Aunt Isabella (Charlotte, another Anne, another Julia, Harriet), and Aunt Louisa (Emma, Lucy, and Ada). 

It is really a lot of letters for one person to write in rapid succession. 

She writes then, to several friends from Mayfair days — to Lady Eliza Penrose, to The Honourable Miss Margaret Reynolds, to Miss Rose Wentworth, to Miss Mary Churchill, to Lady Beatrice Thorpe, to Mrs. William Smythe-Hall. She even writes to the rather intimidating Clara, Viscountess Sedley (who had been frightening enough back when she was The Honourable Clara Beaton). She writes to the daughters and sisters of other Australian governors, those they have met and corresponded with — Miss Jane Tate, Miss Adelaide Milne, The Honourable Catherine Pryce. 

She writes to sisters of former suitors, where she can remember their names and still has their contact information. She writes to their second cousins, the Misses Ambersons, and their third cousins once removed, a Mrs. John Gilroy and a Miss Frances Lukins. She writes to a Mrs. Henry Wilkinson, who Belle insists is some relation or other, even though no one quite recall how. 

She writes until her hands ache and her writing is nearly illegible, and then she refuses, for it won’t do if they cannot read the letters. Then, Belle writes the letters for Fanny where she can, where the recipient will not discern the difference in their handwriting, passing the paper to Fanny for her signature. 

“There,” Fanny says. I have written to everyone I can possibly think of.”

“What if they simply write to mother and father?”

“Some may,” Fanny shrugs. “But enough of them will tell their friends and cousins and relations that it won’t matter. You know Cousin Mary cannot keep her mouth shut to save her life.”

Belle laughs. “If she can understand the implication, that is.”

“She will, I think,” Fanny sighs. “I made it quite obvious.”

Two weeks later, Fanny sends a second round of letters, exclaiming over how thrilling it is to see her sister and Dr. Dawkins together, how everyone expects an announcement any day now. These ones won’t arrive much after the initial round, but they don’t have the luxury of time. 

***

Dear Cousin Mary,

How nice to receive your last letter! Of course, I am sure many things have happened in the 5 weeks since you posted the letter.

We are very well here. Belle is keeping herself busy – as you know she likes to – by rolling bandages and reading to unfortunates at the hospital here in Port Victory.

Belle’s volunteering and Father’s close friendship with Professor McGregor mean we have seen rather a lot of the young surgeons at the hospital – Dr. Rainsford Sneed and Dr. Jack Dawkins.  You may recall Dr. Sneed – he was once our neighbour in Mayfair! His grandfather is Baron Middleton, you know, and his father was to be, before he died. He has become quite like a brother to us lately. By contrast, Dr. Dawkins is an unknown entity – he is English by background, of course, and served as a Lieutenant in the Royal Navy. He was commended for bravery in the Crimean War – for his participation in the Siege of Sevastopol. He and Belle work quite closely together at the hospital.

Just between us two – for I feel that we’ve always been remarkably close, closer than most cousins – I think that Belle and Dr. Dawkins have become quite fond of each other! It’s really very thrilling! I suspect that there could be a tendresse developing between them – do not tell anyone, Cousin. I cannot help but wonder if there will be an announcement between the two of them… He seems so devoted to her. It’s quite romantic!

I do hope that your latest suitor is more attractive than Lord Beale - he sounds positively dreadful! With all luck, perhaps both you and Belle will have announcements to make before the year is through.

All my love,

Your devoted Cousin Fanny

***

Convincing Dr. Sneed to participate in this charade is the most difficult part of it all. 

“What will you do, if we are ruined?” Belle points out, practically. “Father will lose his post, and then all of this time spent endearing yourself to us will have been for naught.”

“This is — this is a most unsuitable conversation — outrageous! To have in front of young ladies…” Dr Sneed looks aghast. 

“You must be the one to tell mother and father that Lady Belle is with child, don’t you see?” Fanny says, practically. “It must be approved by a doctor, and they will believe you.”

“How –” he sputters. “Lady Fanny, you ought not to speak of such vulgar things. It is bad enough that Lady Belle..” He trails off, apparently too offended to finish this thought, 

“Oh, get a grip, Sneed,” Belle says, annoyed. “It’s a simple biological function.” 

“It’s all right, Dr. Sneed,” Fanny says, in a kinder voice. “I have read Belle’s medical texts. It’s really very academic.” 

“I say – !” Dr Sneed turns purple. “This is most unsuitable.”

“All right, but will you do it?” Belle presses this point, not interested in whatever crisis of morality Dr. Sneed is currently experiencing. “Will you tell mother and father that you have examined me, and believe I am with child?” 

“Christ,” Dr. Sneed curses, sinking into a nearby chair, with the bright eyes of Lady Fanny and the piercing eyes of Lady Belle fixed on him. “How am I to bring up such a thing? How am I to – to imply that Lady Belle could be – that Lady Belle has – has been comprom–”

“Well, Lady Belle has,” Belle says, annoyed. “Lady Belle has first-hand knowledge of such things, and my mother knows it, so she will believe it.” 

“Christ,” Dr. Sneed groans again. “Dawkins, goddamnit. That man – what a blackguard.” 

“You shouldn’t say such things about him,” Fanny says, before Belle can say something much meaner. “He’s a very nice man, and he saved Belle’s life.”

Dr. Sneed pauses, like he cannot find a counter-argument to this. “God help me,” he says. “I am not saying I shall do it. But I am not saying I shan’t.” 

“You owe me, remember?” Belle narrows her eyes at him, reminding him of his promise to her. “You promised me.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sakes, I did not imagine I was promising to do – this!” Dr. Sneed massages his temples, and then looks sternly at the sisters. “Besides – what are you planning?”

“Planning?” Fanny asks, demurely. 

Dr. Sneed scowls. “Don’t pretend. I know Lady Belle is a born schemer and I’m beginning to see you’re just as bad, Lady Fanny.” 

“We don’t know what you mean,” Belle says, the picture of innocence.

Dr. Sneed snorts. “Have it your way, then. But I know you want me to tell your parents this because you think it will – save Dr. Dawkins, or have them consent to your marriage, yes?” 

“Yes,” says Fanny, immediately, and Belle gives her a dirty look. “Oh dear,” Fanny says, realizing her mistake. “Oh. I wasn’t meant to say that.” 

“It’s pretty obvious,” Dr. Sneed gives Belle a disdainful look. “I am not quite as stupid as you seem to imagine.”

Belle snorts this time. 

“But,” Dr. Sneed continues, clearly lost in thought. “Surely you also have ambitions to make Dawkins the Head Surgeon? Won’t your father think that’s a better match for his daughter. Why should I agree to anything that will lead to that outcome?” 

Belle scowls at him, very annoyed. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” he says, firmly.

“Belle,” Fanny turns to her sister, unsettled. “He knows.”

“Yes, I can see that, Fanny,” Belle says, irritated. “Give me a minute.”

“Well,” Fanny says, thinking quickly, “You ought to agree to it because the alternative is that Dr. Dawkins cannot use his medical talents anymore.” 

Dr. Sneed makes a face, clearly bothered by this outcome, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. “That’s no reason to destroy my own future.”

Belle exclaims in annoyance. “Sneed, we shall be ruined if you do not comply, and then what will the point of having endeared yourself to father be?”

“You shall only be ruined if you are with child,” Dr. Sneed says, practically, and then eyes Belle beadily. “Are you?”

“I don’t know,” Belle says, peevishly. 

“What if –” Fanny supplies, before anyone else can speak. “While we are deciding what to do – what if there was a way to have Dr. Dawkins freed from prison and working off his debt to society as a doctor? Dr. Sneed, you could make an appeal to father, and I think it could be very persuasive. You needn’t do anything to compromise your position that way, and at least Dr. Dawkins would be out of that dreadful place.” 

“Have you been there?” Dr. Sneed asks, scandalized, temporarily distracted.

“Yes,” Fanny says, matter-of-factly. “I didn’t care for it. It was very damp."

“Fine,” Dr. Sneed spits out, annoyed. “I shall make an appeal to Governor Fox along those lines. And that will have discharged the debt I owe Lady Belle.” 

“No, it shan’t!” Belle exclaims, quite mad. “Rainford Sneed, it shall not, do you hear me?”

“No,” Dr. Sneed says, peevishly. “I do not hear you,” and he stalks from the room.

“Fanny!” Belle groans, flopping back onto the pillow. “How could you? You’ve spoilt everything.” 

“No, I haven’t,” Fanny says, feeling put out. “I haven’t and you will see.” 

“But –” 

Fanny cuts her sister off, impatient. “Oh, Belle, he was never going to agree to anything that would jeopardize his position. I just bought us more time so we can think about how best to proceed.” 

Belle gives her a look of begrudging agreement.

“Come,” Fanny says, taking her sister’s hand. “Come, you must admit that it is better to have Dr. Dawkins out of prison than in, even if he is not yet a free man.”

Belle gives a very unladylike grunt at this. “You better not make me regret this, Fan.”

“Of course I shan’t,” she says, determined. “Sister’s promise.”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER NINE: THE GOOD DOCTOR

LADY BELLE FOX

The next day, Lady Belle does something very, very bad. 

She does something she feels terribly guilty about — so guilty she ends up convincing herself that it is not a bad thing after all, that it is really quite a good thing.  For it serves a noble end — an end that will surely save Jack, and she thinks that, really, Fanny won’t mind, in the end, if things work out as they ought. Jack might object to it, especially if things work out as they should, but she cannot worry about this now. 

“Sneed,” she says, as Sneed and Hetty are preparing to take their leave from her sickroom. “Will you stay back a moment? I wish to speak with you in private.”

Sneed frowns, and settles into the chair that lives at her bedside these days. He sighs, heavily.  “Nothing good can come of this, can it?” His voice is so glum it’s almost comical. “I almost fear you opening your mouth.”

“Rainsford,” she begins, propping herself up in bed, willing herself not to hiss or wince in pain. “I have been thinking, and I think I have a solution to our problem.”

“Which problem?” He asks her, grumpily, but he meets her eye. “To your fake pregnancy? To the fact that I am going to lie to your mother abominably? To the fact that —

“No. Don’t be daft,” she interrupts, crisply. “To the question of who shall be head surgeon, when Prof retires.”

He draws his breath in, sharply, and sits up, paying close attention now. “You know I shall fill the position. It is already decided.”

“Ye—es,” she allows, slowly. 

“I am not giving it up to Dawkins,” he says, irritably, and he opens his mouth to keep speaking, but she cuts him off again.

“Is it — forgive me, but it isn’t because of some…misplaced affection for…for me, is it?” She cringes as she says the words. “For you know it is hopeless.”

He gives her a dirty look. “Contrary to what Jack Dawkins might tell you, milady, the earth does not revolve around you.”

She laughs, unexpectedly amused by his irritation. “Oh, you sounded rather like him just there. Perhaps he is rubbing off on you.”

“I should think not,” he snips, and then makes a concerted effort to adopt a more polite, congenial tone. “I simply meant to say that — while I had hoped to marry you, and to offer you a position, I have found my feelings quite changed towards you, as of late. I do not think we would suit each other quite as well as I had once thought.”

“We shouldn’t suit each other at all,” she says. “No quite about it.”

“No,” he says, smiling a little bit, which he seems to find almost painful. “You are quite right.”

“Quite,” she says, briskly, this hurdle cleared. “Look, Sneed, tell me — why is it that you want to be Head Surgeon?”

“Why?” He asks her, dumb-founded. “What sort of question is that?”

“Quite a simple one, really. Why do you want the position?”

“Well — because — because…” he stammers a little, and she feels quite pleased. Surely her hunch is correct. “Because it is the best position at the hospital. Because it is a role well-suited for a man of my position in life — a man of my education, a man of my station, of my breeding. It’s the top job.”

Her hunch is quite correct, and she beams at him. He regards her with the polite incredulity one might adopt upon a visit to a madhouse. 

“But it’s not really the top job, is it?” She grins at him, and his expression only grows more incredulous. 

“What — what are you talking about?” He looks like she is mad, but he’s listening quite avidly nevertheless. 

“I mean that you’ll always be subject to the whims of the governor, won’t you?”

“I suppose so,” he says, considering this. “But your father rather likes me, in case you haven’t noticed, and I—

“Forget about Father,” she says, impatient. “Father won’t be governor forever, Rainsford.”

He gasps at her. “What have you — what have you heard? Is he to be replaced?”

“No,” she says, desperately wishing he would keep up. “I mean that he simply cannot remain the governor forever, for all men will eventually grow old and die.”

“That is true…” he says, slowly. 

“And just think, you will have curried all that favour with him, only to have to start fresh with a new governor, some 30 or 40 years in the future.”

“Yes,” he says, frowning, not looking pleased. “I suppose I shall.”

“It’s beneath a man of your position,” she tells him, thinking she’s laying it on a little thick, but he eats it up. “To be worrying about such things.”

He is nodding, rapt.

“And I know you like medicine, but I don’t think it’s truly a great love of yours, is it?”

He makes a little face, and she knows it is true, even if he won’t admit it. 

“What of it?” He asks, testiness creeping into his voice. “What does this have to do with anything?”

“Well,” she says, “Father will inevitably have a great deal of influence over the appointment of his successor, won’t he?”

“I s’pose,” Sneed nods. “Yes.”

“And he does like you quite a bit, as you said. Perhaps…” she trails off, trying to let him teach the conclusion on his own.

“Are you trying to tell me he could somehow campaign to have me become governor?” His eyes widen, but he snorts. “I think you’ve consumed too much ether, milady, and it’s addled your brains. I haven’t any experience in government.”

“No, not yet,” she says, carefully. “But perhaps if he took you under his wing, took a special interest in you, really became your champion….”

“Why, pray tell, would he do that?” 

“Besides your natural charms?” She grins at him, and, for a fraction of a second, she thinks he looks 15 years younger, and on the verge of sticking his tongue out at her. She feels strangely fond of him. “We—ell…” she draws out the word. “I think he might do quite a lot for his son-in-law.”

This seems to take a long time to sink in, and even longer for Sneed to understand her meaning.  “I — what — you — but you said —!”

“Not me, you great dunderhead,” she sighs. “We’ve been through that. I meant Fanny.”

“Fanny?” He repeats, sounding dumbstruck. He sits there with his mouth open, staring at her like she’s some sort of new species heretofore unknown to mankind. “Me, marry Fanny?”

“Precisely,” she says, nodding, relieved he’s grasped it. “Don’t you see? It’s so simple. You can become Papa’s successor, and Jack can be the Head Surgeon. You won’t be losing anything at all — you’ll be gaining a much bigger prize.”

“Fanny?” He asks, in response to her comment about a bigger prize  — he sounds confused, but she likes that his mind went to her sister first.

“Yes,” she says, settling on this answer. “Fanny and a potential governorship.”

He opens and closes his mouth so many times she has to really fight the urge to giggle, which makes her stitches ache fiercely. 

“I — Fanny — but she’s going to marry Mr. Twist, isn’t she?” He asks, sounding a little distressed. 

“No,” Belle says, shaking her head. “She won’t. You’ll see.”

Sneed sits there, in silence, digesting her proposal, and Belle is curious to see how he’s thinking this over so carefully. As she’d once told Fanny, she has always assumed Rainsford was so eager to marry into the family that he would have married anyone who said yes — anyone who stood still long enough, male or female, human or canine. And so she had assumed he would jump at this idea. 

She is strangely pleased by the fact he is is thinking it over, even if it does delay things. 

“Does Fanny know about this?” He asks, after several silent, contemplative moments. “Has she put you up to this?”

Belle thinks this might be the first time she has ever heard anyone accuse Fanny of putting her up to anything, instead of the reverse.

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “She doesn’t know a thing about this.”

“I see,” he says, his face inscrutable, which bothers her terribly. “And you think she would — would marry me?”

“Oh, happily,” Belle says, scrunching up her nose. “She’s quite sweet on you, really. Can’t think why.”

He flushes.

“Don’t tell her I told you,” Belle says, hurriedly, thinking of her sister’s horrified face if she could hear this conversation. 

“I shall think about it,” he says, at last. “I do see — I do see the sense in it.”

“Good,” she says, giving his hand a cheerful pat. “I knew you would.”

***

RAINSFORD SNEED

Later that day, Sneed sends a discreet note to Lady Jane. 

Lady Jane — I must speak with you, urgently, regarding a sensitive matter pertaining to Lady Belle’s health. It is quite delicate, and it is a matter of some urgency. Please let me know when I may call on you at a time where privacy is guaranteed. 

Your obedient servant,

Dr. R. J.  Sneed

***

He arrives for tea the following day, per Lady Jane’s instructions. 

“Well?” She asks of him, about 10 minutes into the social call. “What of your mysterious missive, Dr Sneed?”

He takes a deep breath, wishing he could borrow a little bit of Lady Belle’s steel spine. 

Sneed isn’t a liar. 

He simply doesn’t do it, if he can help it — both because he wasn’t brought up to lie, and because he’s not very good at it. 

But it is true that a great many moments in life call for a sort of…massaging… of the truth, if you will (although, he reflects, when you need to say “if you will”, as a caveat, he often finds that people won’t, the devils). Social niceties, manners, making the right sort of polite comment to the right sort of person at the right time — those all have elements in common with lying, he tells himself. 

And he’s pretty good at that. 

Unbidden, he can hear Dawkins’ voice in his head, laughing at him, calling him a posh suck-up.  He feels both irritation and guilt at the thought; neither is a pleasant emotion. He shoves it away. 

Focus, he tells himself, employing the keenly-honed ability to climb that has brought him this far in life. Focus on the end goal. 

“I regret that I need speak of it at all, Lady Jane.” He keeps his voice low, his eyes fixed on the floor, sounding pained. All of this rather suits his mood, so it quite works. “I can only hope you take it in the spirit in which it is intended…”

“Oh?” She looks at him.

“Which is as a great friend of the family, a tremendous admirer of the family Fox — I say it not to offend or insult you.”

Her face is looking a little ashy, but she retains her remarkable poise and composure like the lady she is. He quite admires it, really.

“As I have been supervising Lady Belle’s recovery, I have begun to notice certain symptoms I find…troubling.”

“Troubling?” She asks, her voice worried. “Is she sickly? Is she not healing as she ought?”

“Oh, no,” he assures her, and her face brightens. “She is improving every day. She is by far my most…determined patient.”

He sees Lady Jane’s lips twitch up, fondly, even as her mother says, “That girl will be the death of me.”

“I speak, instead, of something else,” he says, delicately. “A delicate condition — a condition I would normally never presume in a young lady of quality who is unwed…let alone suggest it…” he lets his voice trail off, hoping she will save him from saying it.

Her lips tighten, her whole face growing rigid, offended and disbelieving. 

“Will you really make me say it?” He says, a little pitifully. 

“Say what?” She asks, her voice as tight as a drum, the sound practically reverberating against the windows. “Whatever are you implying, Dr. Sneed?”

“I believe…” he says, wincing. “I have observed in Lady Belle the unmistakeable signs of a woman who is…with child.” He whispers the last two words. 

“You are mistaken, Dr. Sneed.” She gives him a look that could stop the hearts of far braver men than Rainsford Sneed. “My daughter, as you observed, is both a young lady of quality and unwed. However would she become with child?”

He ducks his head down, feeling very guilty, as though Lady Belle’s delicate situation is real, and as though he is responsible for it.

“Milady,” he whispers, quavering under her gaze. “Milady, I have seen the signs — the lack of monthly courses, the nausea, the thickening of the waist, the —

“Enough,” she says, sharply. “Who knows of this, other than you? I need names.”

“Hetty,” he says, and then clarifies, “Nurse Bagshaw. It is she who reported the details to me.”

“And Dawkins?” Lady Jane’s nostrils quiver with rage. “Does he know it?”

“No,” he says. “And I have not yet said anything to Lady Belle, but I believe she knows, or suspects — and she will figure it out quite soon, she has that sort of mind.”

“That girl will be the death of us all,” Lady Jane mutters in a low, panicked tone. “The situation may be salvageable, then,” she says, more to herself than to Sneed.

“What will you do?” He asks, unable to stop himself.

“I did not realize that was any of your business!” 

“Only…” he looks quite apologetic. “If you are thinking of sending her away…I cannot allow it, Lady Jane.”

“Oh? And why ever not?” She looks quite murderous. 

“The surgery — her recovery — she cannot spend time aboard a boat so soon,” he says, shaking his head. “Whether it be 4 months to England or 6 weeks to India. I fear — I think it could kill her.”

Lady Jane freezes at these words. 

“Get out,” she says, her voice a hiss. “Get out right now, Dr. Sneed. I do not wish to entertain you any further today.”

Sneed makes a run for it.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER TEN: THE FANTASTIC MR. FOX

LADY FANNY FOX

“Daddy,” Fanny sticks her head into her father’s study. “Daddy, I need to speak with you.” 

“Hello, Fanny,” he says, not looking up from the papers he is studying. “Do you need something?” He strokes the dog’s head, absent-mindedly.

“Yes, I need to speak to you,” she repeats. 

“Hmm?” He looks up at her, blinking as though he’s never seen her before. “What’s the matter, darling?”

“It is about Belle,” she says, twisting her fingers together. 

He puts down the papers, looking worried. “Is it – is it her recovery? Is she – is there news from the hospital?” 

“No, not entirely.” She sits down in the chair in front of his desk. “But a little bit about Belle.” 

“Oh?” Her father frowns at her. “Do go on.” 

“I have an idea about – about Dr. Dawkins.” 

“Dr. Dawkins!” He exclaims, looking shocked. “Why, Fanny – that is no concern of yours!”

Of course it is, she thinks. How could anything involving her sister not be a concern of hers? But she knows she cannot say that. 

“Only…” she trails off. “Only, don’t you think that he ought to be overseeing her recovery?” 

He looks at her, shocked. “I – I – perhaps…” 

“For he was the only one who understood her condition, who was capable of operating on her – and now he is in prison. Don’t you think he is the only one who can really understand her condition and how to help her recovery?” 

“Er…” He says, looking dumbfounded. “I – I hadn’t thought of that.” 

“I’ve been speaking to Dr. Sneed,” Fanny says, “When I visit Belle at the hospital. And he agrees.” 

“What?” Her father looks shocked. “He does? You didn’t – you didn’t misunderstand?”

“No!” She exclaims, annoyed. Why does everyone always think she is misunderstanding things? “I haven’t.”

“Well,” he huffs, uncertainly. “We cannot make any decisions in a hurry. This is a serious, sensitive matter, Fanny, dear…” 

“And Daddy,” she says, frowning earnestly. “I know that. But isn’t it true you could release Dr. Dawkins temporarily, and have him work as a convict servant, only at the hospital? Dr. Sneed could supervise him. Or I could!” She brightens at this thought. It sounds rather fun. 

“My goodness!” Her father exclaims, stammering. “That is – that is an idea, Fanny. It is certainly an idea.” 

This makes her feel very proud. She thinks her father must be listening at last.

“And – Father, have you heard from Mr. Twist, lately?”

“I – er – uh, what?” Her father seems somehow more stunned by this than her wild suggestion about Dr. Dawkins. “Mr. Twist?”

“Yes,” Fanny nods. “My fiancé. I have not heard from him since he departed for London, after the dinner at Government House.” 

“Right, right,” Her father nods, vaguely. She wonders if he has forgotten about the engagement entirely. “Mr. Twist. That’s right.” 

“I just thought he might have written to you – to discuss details of the engagement. He hasn’t written to me.” 

“Oh, Fan,” her father looks very overwhelmed. “I suspect he’s still on the boat, darling.” 

“Oh,” she says, frowning. “All right, then.” 

“I need to attend to these papers,” he tells her, smiling a little. “You’ve certainly given me a lot to think about, Fan.” 

“Good, I hope?” She smiles nervously at her father. “You will consider my idea about Dr. Dawkins, won’t you?” 

“Yes, I will,” he says. “I will.” 

She is not entirely sure she believes him, but it seems to be the best she can do.

***

She returns to the hospital after speaking to her father, eager to let Belle know of her progress. Before she sees Belle, the person she runs into is Dr. Sneed, who is looking very red-faced and out-of-sorts. 

“Oh, hello, Dr. Sneed!” She beams at him – he is, after all, a fellow member of their quest. 

“Lady Fanny!” He exclaims, and, for some reason, becomes redder than before. “Have you spoken to your mother?” 

“My mother?” She frowns, confused. “No. Why?”

“Only I was…I was at Government House, just now. Tea with your mother. And it went – well, it did not go well.” 

She frowns again. “Oh, you should’ve stayed, so that I could return to the hospital with you.” 

He sighs. “I’m afraid I needed to make a rather hasty departure.” 

“Why?” 

He glances around the hallway, as though he suspects that spies are lurking around every corner. “Let’s go into your sister’s room, so that we may speak privately.” 

“All right,” she says, accepting this. It does seem very intriguing, at least. 

He ushers her into Belle’s room. He’s really very red, and she wonders if he’s suffering from sunstroke. He seems positively dazed.

“Belly!” She says, hurrying towards her sister’s bedside. “Hello, darling.” She gives her sister a rather spirited hug, which makes Belle wince a bit. “Oh, no, I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s all right,” Belle says, squeezing her sister’s hand. “Sit down.” 

Fanny sits down by her sister’s bedside. And Sneed, for his part, begins to pace around the room.

“So,” Sneed says. “So…” 

“So?” Belle arches her eyebrows at him. 

“I spoke to your mother,” he says, looking at the floor. “I told her – that you were with child.” 

“Oh dear,” Fanny says, flinching a little bit. “She won’t be very happy, will she?”

“That’s putting it, er, lightly,” Sneed says, twisting his fingers. “She is, er…irate.” 

“Well,” Belle shrugs. “She will have to get over that. Well done, Rainsford.” 

Belle beams at him, seeming strangely fond of him suddenly, which surprises Fanny, and makes her feel rather odd. 

“I spoke to Father,” Fanny pipes up, to general surprise. “I told him that Dr. Dawkins ought to be released as a convict servant, at least until they can decide what should be done, and then he can assist at the hospital – with Belle’s recovery.” 

“I was meant to do that,” Dr. Sneed says, a little huffily. 

“You took too long,” Fanny says. “It’s been two days.” 

Sneed looks at Belle, as though she will support him, but Belle shrugs, smiling a little bit. “She does have a point, Rainsford.” 

Sneed huffs again. 

“Well,” says Fanny, fairly. “You’ll have to speak to him again, because I am not sure he really listened to me. People never really do, you know.” 

At this, Sneed and Belle both look rather awkward and won’t meet her eye. 

***

“I think you have rather good ideas, you know,” Sneed says to her, a little awkwardly, as he sees her out to the carriage. 

“Do you?” She says, curiously. She’s not fishing. She’s just a little surprised to hear this. People never say things like this to her. 

“Well,” Sneed shrugs. “This whole thing was your idea, it seems. And it seems to be working. So far, at least.” 

“It is working, isn’t it?” She beams at him. “That’s very nice of you to say, Dr. Sneed.” 

He beams back at her, and she feels very strange. 

“I just wanted you to know,” He says. “That I do listen to your ideas. Mostly.” He amends. “They are sometimes a little…unorthodox.” 

“I know,” she says. “Or at least, I know that is what people do say. But I find my ideas are always quite sensible, you know. Once you look at them the correct way.” 

He frowns at her for a fraction of a second – she is beginning to see that this is the face he makes when he’s digesting information – before smiling, and then, curiously, breaking into laughter.

“What?” She says, torn between joining into with the laughter and being put out. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “I – just – you’re right, is all.” 

“I know I am,” Fanny says, confused. “That’s what I just said.” 

He shakes his head, and helps her into the carriage. “You are quite something, Lady Fanny. Really.” 

She smiles at him – he smiles at her – and she feels very odd the whole ride home. 

Chapter Text

CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE LUCK OF JACK DAWKINS

DR. RAINSFORD SNEED

Sneed is beginning to feel like this plan involves him doing all the worst bits: confirming a fake pregnancy, lying to Lady Jane, facing the wrath of Lady Jane, giving up the Head Surgeon position, and, now, speaking to Governor Fox about Jack Dawkins’ fate.

How had he gotten roped into this, again? He tries to remember. That's right: he had felt guilty about denying Belle’s condition, and about the possibility of Dawkins hanging.  Hmph. He certainly hadn’t seen that leading to all of this. 

“So you will tell father what I said?” Lady Fanny asks him during the carriage ride back to Government House. “About how Dr. Dawkins is really better suited to being at the hospital than in prison? And if father cannot yet make up his mind about his ultimate fate, he might as well have Dr. Dawkins work in the hospital to pay his debt to society?”

“Yes, yes, I remember,” Sneed says, nodding, trying to keep the whining note out of his voice. “You have only told me about a hundred times. Between you and Lady Belle, it must be a thousand times.”

“It’s only because it’s so important!” Lady Fanny exclaims. 

“Is it really so terrible if he just stays in prison for the time being?” Sneed asks, grumpily, knowing this is quite petty of him.

“Oh, come now, Dr Sneed!” Lady Fanny looks shocked. “You know it is. Don’t say such things — they are beneath you, and you know it.”

Sneed has spent so much of his life making petty comments and punching down, that he rather thinks no one has ever thought such comments were beneath him, since they seem basically equivalent to who Sneed is as a person. He is surprised that, while he feels chastened by Lady Fanny’s comment, he feels almost touched as well. 

“Do you really think so?”

“Yes, the prison is quite awful,” Lady Fanny shudders.

“I meant about — about my comment being beneath me.”

“Of course!” Lady Fanny turns to him with wide, bright eyes. She has very pretty eyes, really, he thinks. “You are much too good and noble to say such unkind things. Especially when it involves the fate of a good man like Dr. Dawkins. And a man of much lower status than yourself, Dr. Sneed. He has not had your advantages. You must be the bigger man.”

Sneed is dumbstruck by these remarks. Of course, she has said has made unkind remarks, and implied that he has not been the bigger man in his dispute with Dawkins — both of which ought to offend him. But she has also said that he is good and noble, and has had many advantages, and he is rather shocked by how much he likes hearing these things. 

“You really think so? That I am good, and noble, and all of that?” He has a very strange feeling in his stomach — a sort of seasick feeling, and he does not really understand it, for he does not typically become ill in carriages. 

“Of course,” Lady Fanny says, sounding confused. “For you are, aren’t you? You have always been a very good friend to our family. And you do very good work at the hospital for your fellow men, and for the good of the colony. And you volunteered to help us on our quest, even though we all know you don’t like Dr. Dawkins.”

This cheers him up tremendously, and he cannot help but grin at her. “That is true, isn’t it?” He says, in a far better mood than before. “Thank you, Lady Fanny. You are a keen observer of the human condition.”

“Thank you,” she says, sounding pleased. “I think so as well.”

***

DR. J ACK DAWKINS

Jack has been in prison for what feels like a century when he sees an unexpected figure making its way towards his cell. He frowns, certain he is incorrect. He peers in the darkness. No, he is not wrong. 

It is Governor Fox. 

He has frankly expected Lady Jane, before now, perhaps to sneer at him, or to put him in his place, or even to taunt him with news that Belle would be sent off to some strange corner of the world where he’d never see her again. But Governor Fox – as important as he was – is not the man Jack ever expected to pay a visit to his cell.

“Hullo,” the Governor says, politely, as though they are having tea at Government House. “How do you do, Dr. Dawkins?” 

“I – er – I am well enough, sir,” Jack says, forcing himself to swallow whatever snarky retort pops into his head. “Given the, er, circumstances.” He gestures around at the damp cell and straw pallet.

“Yes,” Governor Fox nods, awkwardly. “It does seem rather dreadful, doesn’t it?”

These words are familiar to Jack, although he cannot place them. Jack shrugs in response, unsure what one is meant to say to such a remark. 

“Am I done for, then?” He asks. Better to rip off the bandage, he thinks, and have done with it. 

“In a manner of speaking,” the man says, chortling – and Jack thinks this is really quite unnecessary, to laugh like this in the face of his execution.

“When’s the date, then?” Jack asks, dully. He’s always known it had to come down to this, hadn’t he? 

“Today,” The Governor said, cheerfully – again, Jack thinks, this doesn’t really reflect the generally kindly man he’s met, although he supposes posh types operate along rules not understood by lesser mortals like Jack Dawkins.

“I – er, what?” Jack is not prepared for this, not really, whatever he might tell himself. 

“Do you think you will need breakfast?” 

“Yes,” Jack says, immediately, for he never says no to food, and this will surely delay his hanging. 

“I should too,” Governor Fox nods. “Lots to be done, today, I understand. Need your strength. You look like you’re about to blow over, boy!” He laughs again, although Jack cannot understand what is meant to be funny about any of this.

“Less weight for the noose,” Jack shrugs, trying to keep the bitter edge out of his voice. 

“Noose?” Governor Fox looks at him like he’s said something absolutely appalling. “Noose?!” 

“Well, that’s usually how it’s done?” Jack says, in a tone of polite incredulity. 

“Are there nooses at the hospital?” Governor Fox squints at him, looking more confused than ever. 

“At the hospital?” Jack is beginning to think he and Governor Fox are having two completely different conversations. “Am I to be hanged at the hospital?” 

This, he thinks, dully, seems unnecessarily cruel.

“Hanged?” Governor Fox stares at him, before bursting into laugher. “Hanged! My boy! Hanged!”

“Yes,” Jack says, awkwardly. “Am I to be executed some other way?” His stomach churns at the thought, and he tries to keep the hysteria from rising in his throat. 

“Oh, but you aren’t to be executed at all!” Governor Fox exclaims, looking shocked. “Didn’t I say so?”

“No,” Jack says, tersely – but inside he is feeling an absolute tsunami of relief, and he cannot help but grin at the Governor. “Really, sir? I won’t?”

“No, no,” The Governor shakes his head, as though this is a ludicrous suggestion. “Really rather a waste of medical talent, I thought.” 

Jack does not know whether it is wise to ask about the death warrant or not, and so keeps his mouth clamped firmly shut. “I am to sit trial, then?” He asks, trying to regain his footing. 

“Oh, perhaps,” Governor Fox frowns, as though this is a novel concept. “I suppose I hadn’t thought of that.” 

Jack does not understand how this man arrives at point B from point A without falling into a hole on the way there. Perhaps this is what happens to him, and that is why he is constantly so confused. 

“Where am I being removed to, then?” Jack asks, in as polite a voice as he can muster. “For you said I am to be moved?”

“To the hospital, of course,” Governor Fox clucks, like this answer is obvious. “Until we can decide what to do with you, you shall work off your past debt to society as a doctor at the hospital!” 

He grins at Jack as though this is a plum offer – and really, it is, thinks Jack, dumbfounded. 

“How – did – how – did Lady Belle speak with–” He begins to ask. 

“Oh no,” Governor Fox frowns. “She is still unwell. Much too sickly to think of such a thing.” 

This makes Jack start – Belle is either much sicker than he believed, or the Governor is far more oblivious than Jack knows. Jack is not sure which is more likely. 

“No, it was Dr. Sneed’s idea, actually.” 

“Sneed?!” Jack exclaims, horrified. “Sneed?” 

“Rainsford Sneed, yes,” Governor Fox nods, seemingly pleased that Jack has caught on. “He’s going to supervise you. I gather Lady Fanny is going to help – she’s quite keen on the idea, but I don’t know, really, if truth be told…unorthodox, really…” He trails off, frowning at this.

Jack gawps, words having escaped him entirely. “I – Sneed? Lady Fanny? The hospital?” 

“Yes,” Governor Fox nods. “Let’s get a move on, shall we?” With that, he unlocks the cell, and swings the door open. “Shall we, m’boy?” 

Jack follows him out of the prison in a daze, still trying to make sense of the last ten minutes of his life. 

*** 

The Governor accompanies him back to the hospital, where he’s let into his old rooms, and permitted to bathe and re-dress. Once he’s managed to scrub the stench and grime of the last 3 weeks off his skin, he re-emerges to find a curious assortment of people waiting for him: the Governor, Sneed, Lady Fanny, and Fagin. 

He has given up being shocked by things, though, at this juncture. “Hello,” he says, to the assembled group. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

Governor Fox clears his throat. “I have informed Dr. Sneed of the situation. I must take my leave, and he will inform you of the particulars. Lady Fanny will assist. And this gentleman says he is your uncle?”

Jack coughs as Fagin grins. “Dodge! Come give your uncle a hug, there’s a good lad.” 

“No thanks – this is a clean shirt,” Jack says, snippily, but allows Fagin to embrace him all the same. 

“Well, that’s nice,” Governor Fox says, awkwardly. “I trust I can rely on you, Rainsford, to communicate the situation?” 

“Yes, absolutely,” Sneed says, nodding importantly. “Absolutely, sir, I shan’t let you down.” 

Jack resists the urge to stamp on Sneed’s foot, but it is admittedly quite difficult. 

***

LADY FANNY FOX

Dr. Dawkins looks very thin, and rather dazed, and quite pale, but Fanny thinks that, all around, he’s rather pleased with the present situation. And why shouldn't he be? It's a tremendous improvement on his previous one. 

“So, you see,” she finishes, “You can work at the hospital and oversee Belle’s recovery while Father decides…what’s next.” She finishes a little lamely, unsure what to say. 

“And Sneed is to oversee me?” Dr. Dawkins makes a disgruntled face. "I think I'd rather be back in prison." 

“That’s Dr. Sneed, to you,” the man in question says, but manages to restrain himself from any further comment. Fanny gives him a small smile. 

“And what, exactly, is to become of me?” Dr. Dawkins gives her a grim look. “Or, as you put it, what’s next?” 

“Well,” Fanny breathes. “We have a plan. We have rather a good plan, I think. Only I know Belle will want to tell you all about it herself. So Dr. Sneed and I must keep quiet, for now.”

Jack makes a snorting sound and puts his head in his hands. 

“Cheer up, Dodge,” Fagin grins, clapping him on the back. “Hanging’s much worse.” 

Chapter Text

CHAPTER TWELVE: REVIEWING THE SITUATION

LADY BELLE FOX

“You did what?” 

Belle is trying very, very hard not to let her temper get the better of her, but it is very, very difficult.  “It’s really very sensible, Jack, if you would just listen.” She says, impatient, sitting up straighter. 

“Watch it!” He yelps, moving closer to her side, trying to peel back the front of her nightdress to check her stitches. 

She swats him away, impatient. “Jack, don’t fuss.”

“I cut your chest open. I operated on your heart. I am entitled to fuss,” he says, a little mulishly, and she tries not to let her feelings for him distract her from her mission to convey this information. 

“Jack, just listen,” She tugs his hand away from her incision, and laces her fingers through his.

This temporarily distracts him, and he kisses her hand, eyes liquid as he peers at her over her knuckles - and now she is the one feeling quite distracted. But she’s not going to be distracted by this. Lady Belle Fox is made of far sterner stuff. 

“Sneed has now told mother that I am with child. Mother will naturally think you are the father–”

“Is there any other candidate?” Jack arches his eyebrows at her, half-joking and looking half-jealous. 

She gives him a look. “Oh, that’s right. I’ve had a great deal of time and energy for sexual congress since you’ve been in prison. You’ve now been relegated to the ranks of one of many. I suppose I forgot to tell you.” 

“Ha ha,” Jack says, crossing his arms. “Such a wit, milady.” 

“I am a wit, thank you,” Belle says, grinning at him. “I suppose you shan’t mind, considering I, myself, am but one of many to you.” 

He grabs her other hand in his, and gives her a burning look. “Don’t joke,” he says, in a strangled voice that makes her heart beat very quickly. “I can’t bear it. Not after – after everything. You are not one of many, and you know it. Not to me.” 

She opens her mouth to say something witty or cutting or impertinent, and he interrupts her before she can even settle on the appropriate remark.

“And you know I am not talking about sex,” he says. “I love you, Belle. I am hopelessly in love with you – there never has been another, and there never will be.” He kisses her hand again, his lips very gentle, and she wishes she had the energy to embrace him, to kiss him properly. 

“Jack,” she whispers, her heart beating very fast – although not in a way she fears, not in the way it used to, before the surgery. “Jack, I will never stop loving you.” 

He gives her a strange, unreadable look. “But you must. You must – you must make a safe, respectable marriage, and forget this absurd chapter in your youth when you thought you could love an urchin like me.” 

She rolls her eyes. “Aren’t you listening to what I’m saying?”

“Yes,” he says, miserably. “Lady Jane thinks I’ve impregnated you with a bastard child. So my days are numbered, at best.” 

“No,” she says, shaking her head impatiently. “That is not it at all.” 

“She doesn’t think this?” Jack says, a note of hope in his voice.

“No, she does,” Belle is feeling properly annoyed now. “Just listen.”

“I am listening,” he says.

“Listening does not involve so much interrupting,” she tells him, pertly. 

“Yes, milady.” He says, sarcastically, smirking. “I apologize for getting uppity.” 

“Don’t you dare start that with me again, Jack Dawkins,” Belle exclaims, leaning forward to prod him in the chest. “Just be quiet and listen, all right?” 

“All right,” He sighs, and flops back into the chair. “Go on, tell me your mad plan.” 

She glares at him – he should know by now that her plans are not mad, and she thinks he does know this, and is winding her up on purpose. “All right. So, if mother thinks I am with child, surely she will insist on us getting married. And then, in order to make it respectable, I think she will work on Father to give you the Head Surgeon position. And so we can be together, properly, and it will all be very respectable and practical, the way you like it.” 

He goggles at her.  “Your mother will send you away to have the child, surely? Isn’t that what she always threatened?”

Belle sighs, impatiently, and repeats the story of Fanny’s letter-writing campaign to him.

“Letters?” He frowns at her, confused. “Fanny wrote a lot of silly letters to a bunch of posh ladies, and that’s why your mother won’t send you away? I know that she’s your sister, but –”

“No, listen!” Belle says, slapping her thigh a little impatiently. “You trust my judgment, do you not?” 

“Yes,” he says, immediately, and then amends it. “Mostly. When you’re not being completely mad.” 

“Always,” Belle insists. “You should always trust my judgment. Haven’t you learned that by now.” She gives a meaningful look at her wound and then back at him. 

“Yes,” he says, quietly. “All right, explain this mad plan of Fanny’s, then.” 

Belle grins at him, and pats the spot on the bed next to her. “I think I’d like you to lie down beside me while I do so. Just so that I can whisper in your ear very clearly and be quite sure there are no further misunderstandings.”

“Oh, is that why?” Jack looks at her, smirking. He glances around the room, nervously. “What about – Dr. Sneed? Or Prof? Or someone else coming in?”

“Don’t worry,” Belle says, serenely. “You’ll soon see that I’ve worked everything out with Dr. Sneed. We are really quite chums, now.” 

Jack goggles at her again, and she giggles. “You must tell me that story, for I refuse to believe such a thing is possible.” 

“In good time,” she says, and pats the bed again. “Come on, Dr. Dawkins, lie down. I want to tell you the story, but I’m so tired –” she gives a yawn that she isn’t entirely faking – “and I think I need to recline while I recount the whole thing. You don’t want to exhaust your patient, do you?”

“Infuriating woman,” He says, with a broad grin. “I think my patient is far more likely to exhaust me than the other way around.” 

But he stops fighting her, then, and, to her immense relief, he carefully slips into the narrow slice of bed next to her. He is so thin that he almost fits, which makes her feel very distressed. She will make sure he gets lots to eat when she is his wife, she thinks, feeling positively giddy at the thought. It will happen, for he needs a wife to make sure he gets enough to eat, and she thinks she’ll fight anyone else who thinks she’s up for the job. 

She presses her cheek to his chest, sighing in relief at the feel of his warm body next to hers, as skinny as it is. “I’ve missed you so, Jack,” she tells him, in a small voice. “You cannot imagine how I’ve worried about you.” 

He laughs, and slides his arms around her, trying to do so as gently as possible. “Are you sure about that? I cut you open, thought I had surely killed you, and was dragged off to the hospital before I could know for certain.” 

He kisses her temple very softly, and she feels like her heart is breaking for him. “But I am all right now,” she murmurs, pressing herself more closely to him, as though to reassure him of her solid, physical presence. “Healthier than ever.”

“We’ll see about that,” he grunts into her hair. “I’ll need to do a full examination.” 

“I’d quite like that,” she whispers to him, eyes mischievous. “As soon as possible, please.” 

“I didn’t mean – that !” Jack says, torn between scandal and mirth. “I meant a real examination. I need to understand how your healing has progressed thus far.” 

“But what about that ?” She whispers, tilting her head up to him. His eyes are starry and his cheeks flushed. 

She kisses him, then – kisses him for the first time in so many weeks, and he responds to her fiercely, kissing her back as though he will die if they stop. He groans against her mouth, and she feels more alive than she can ever remember. He brings a tender hand to her jaw as he kisses her deeply, stroking her tongue with his, and, by God, she burns for him. She starts to pull at the neck of his shirt, and – 

“No,” he says, firmly. “Absolutely not. You are not well enough. You are not strong enough.” 

She opens her mouth in protest – she is not the kind of person who has ever taken kindly to anyone telling her what she is fit for. 

“I will not risk it, not even for you, Belle.” Jack says, voice stern. “I am not risking your heart. It’s too precious. I cannot count on being so lucky twice.” 

This is, of course, language that is quite literal, but it has a metaphorical application that makes her heart race. 

“Besides,” he continues. “I am not going to make love to you in a hospital bed where anyone could walk in – and where that anyone is most likely to be Rainsford Sneed,” Jack says, pointedly, raising his eyebrows at her. “Not unless you think you’d prefer me back in prison. Or maybe hanging by the neck until dead?” 

Belle does see the sense of this, although she makes a frustrated noise against his chest. 

“That’s what I thought,” he says. “Or at least I shan’t risk it until we’re married, Belle.” 

She giggles, her heart swelling with happiness. “I’ve missed you.” 

“I’ve missed you too,” he says, gently. “More than words can ever say. More than you could ever know.” 

“No,” she says. “I’ve told you before. Whatever you feel, I feel it ten times more.” 

He laughs again, the rumbling sound running through her body. “It cannot be possible, for I cannot imagine how anyone could feel what I feel for you, multiplied by 10, and go on living.” 

“It is not your fault,” Belle says, sleepily. “You cannot help that you were born a mere man, possessed of much simpler capabilities than a woman. Of course you cannot imagine it, but that does not mean it is not possible” 

He laughs again, and, God, she thinks, heart burning in a strictly metaphorical sense, she loves this man so. 

He brushes a gentle hand across her hair, holding her very close. “Go to sleep, my darling. You’re delirious.” 

“No,” she mutters, curling against him. “Have to tell you the story.” 

“All right, then,” he says, his voice low and soothing. “Start at the beginning, and I will listen.” 

“Good,” she nods. “It all started because when I woke up, I looked at Fanny, and I said–” 

***

DR. JACK DAWKINS

Jack is meant to be sleeping in his rooms above the hospital, of course. He is not meant to be sleeping in a hospital bed with Lady Belle Fox. No one has explicitly said that last part, but he thinks it rather goes without saying, at this point. 

He squints at the window – it is early morning, he thinks, and his hip aches from the awkward position they’ve needed to contort themselves into. But this is a damn sight better than the straw pallet he’s been sleeping on, and he thinks he’d happily sleep here every night of his life. 

“Jack,” Belle murmurs, stirring beside him. “Are you awake?” 

“Do you really think it is possible?” He asks her, still sleepy. “That your mother will let us marry.” 

“I think she will make us marry,” Belle says, voice fierce now. 

“But how did you convince Sneed to relinquish the post?” He frowns at her, not understanding this part. 

“I told you, Sneed and I have an understanding,” Belle says, sounding mysterious. “Can’t a woman have her secrets?” 

He snorts. “Just tell me, Belle.” 

She sighs, looking down and chewing her lip. “You might not like it.” 

He eyes her, warily, surprised by this. “Belle, so long as it doesn’t involve you agreeing to marry the man, or – or – or me becoming his convict servant, or him becoming Gaines’ replacement –” he laughs at the absurdity of this – “I think it will be quite all right.” 

She looks terribly guilty and flushes. 

“You agreed to marry him?” Jack gasps, the pain in his chest immediate and unbearable. “But you said your mother would make us marry and –” 

“No,” Belle shakes her head quickly. “That’s not it.”

“Then I am to be his convict servant?” Jack looks horrified. “Belle, surely not –” but he breaks off at this too, and frowns. “But that does not fit at all with your plan to make me Head Surgeon.” He frowns. “Don’t tell me he is to be Gaines’ replacement?”

“Well, not exactly,” Belle says, and she averts her gaze from his. 

“Belle,” he says, feeling very nervous. “Please just tell me what it is. Please.”

“I think you will be angry,” she says, in a small voice.

“Well, I may be,” Jack says, “but I shan’t stop loving you.” 

She gives him a quavery look, and then takes a deep breath. “I told Sneed that it was shortsighted of him to aim for the Head Surgeon job when he really ought to be ingratiating himself with father in the hopes of getting a high-ranking position in government, and hopefully becoming his successor one day, as Governor.” 

If Jack was a betting man – he is a betting man, although he tries not to be – he would not have bet on this being what Belle spoke to Sneed about. 

“And he believed you?” Jack gives her an incredulous look. “I mean – he’s got the perfect posh prat background for it – no offence,” he nods at her. 

“None taken,” she says, laughing. 

“And your father likes him, but would he really stick his neck out for Sneed, of all people?” Jack frowns at her, wondering if he’s missed some sort of Posh Prat signalling that Governor Fox believes Rainsford Sneed tantamount to a long-lost son. 

“He will if Sneed is his son-in-law.” Jack opens his mouth in horror, but Belle continues before he can start yelping. “Not me, for heaven’s sake, I already told you that.”

“Then who?” Jack exclaims, feeling calmer at this assurance, but still stunned. 

“Fanny, of course!” Belle exclaims.

“Fanny?” Jack says the name as though he’s never heard of the woman, let alone met her. “Your sister Fanny?” 

“Obviously,” Belle rolls her eyes at him. “I think it’s rather a good match, actually.” 

Jack makes a face, unable to agree with this. “I know she’s a bit daft, but she’s a good egg, Fanny. I like her. I don’t think she should be saddled forever with Rainsford Sneed.”

“She likes him,” Belle says, defensively. “And I think he’s become rather fond of her. He’s quite sweet, when he wants to be. Not in a way that I like,” Belle hurries to say. “But he’s been more helpful with all of this than I ever expected. And don't call her daft,” she finishes. "Only I can do that." 

“So your best case scenario is that I will one day report to Rainsford Sneed?” Jack groans, flopping back onto the pillow. “God. I don’t know if I can do that.” 

“Even if it means you and I can be together, properly? Married? And that we can work at the hospital, side-by-side? That you can do so much for medicine in this colony?” She gives him her most compelling look.

“Belle,” he breathes, touching her cheek. “Belle, I want all of those things, so badly. So very much. Especially – to marry you – I never thought – I never dreamed it would be possible.” 

“It will be,” she nods, fiercely. “Fanny and I have fixed it all. You’ll see.” 

“But to tolerate Sneed – to have Sneed rule over me like that,” Jack groans again, dread filling his insides. “Belle, he could have me arrested! Thrown in prison! Hanged! Stripped of any money or position!” 

“No,” Belle shakes her head. “He shan’t do that.” 

“Oh, come now,” Jack says, a bit annoyed. “Just because he’s been helpful and you’ve become friendly, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how he can be –” 

“No, I mean that he won’t do that if he’s married to Fanny, will he?” She points this out, a little smug. “Not if you’re his brother-in-law. Fanny and I simply won’t allow it.” 

“Brother-in-law,” Jack says, dumbfounded. “Sneed, my brother-in-law. Jesus Christ.” 

“Cheer up,” Belle says, patting his chest. “It’s a damn sight better than death.”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: OUT-FOXED

LADY FANNY FOX

“I have received a letter from Cousin Mary, in Calcutta,” she says, to her parents, as though this is simply an ordinary remark. 

“Oh?” Her father asks, his voice tight and distracted. “How is she?”

“Daft as always,” Mother says, aggressively cutting her meat. “That girl makes you look clever, Fanny.”

This isn’t a compliment, but Fanny’s not sure it’s an insult — mother never seems to think being clever is a very good thing for a young lady. 

“She’s quite well,” Fanny says, directing the answer to her father. “She has ever so much news —” She updates them, watching her mother’s eyes glaze over as her father listens with great interest. 

“And of course, she was most interested in my news of our life here,” Fanny says, congenially. 

“Did you tell her of my exceptional efforts in cleaning up Port Victory? How it is really almost respectable, now?”

“Oh yes,” she agrees, nodding. “I did, and she was most impressed. And of course, I told her all about the other things — Belle’s work at the hospital, her friendship with Dr. Dawkins, how impressive the hospital is, how fond we all are of Dr. Sneed, of Mr. Twist’s visit and my—“

“What was that?” Her mother’s voice slices through the air, precise and controlled.

“About my enga—“ Fanny begins to say, and her mother cuts her off. 

“No. What did you say about Belle?”

“Oh, only that she spends so much time at the hospital, keeping all hours, and how much time she spends with Dr. Dawkins, what great friends they have become, how they are always enjoying some private joke or other, how she stays there quite late some nights —"

“You what?” Mother’s voice is murderous. “You foolish girl, what have you done?!”

“It is no more than I wrote to anyone else,” Fanny says, her voice apologetic. 

“Than you wrote to anyone else?” Lady Jane’s pitch is painfully high. “Who else did you write to?”

“Oh, not so many people…” she pretends to think. “Our cousins, on both sides — Jane, Elizabeth, Henrietta, Anne, Julia, Susan, Mary, Victoria, Caroline, Geor—“

“Is that all?” Her mother is pinching the bridge of her nose, breathing very hard. “Only cousins?”

“No,” Fanny shakes her head. “Some more distant relations — the Misses Ambersons, Mrs. John Gilroy, Miss Lukins, Mrs. Henry Wilkinson —

“Mrs. Henry Wilkinson!” Her father interjects, surprised. “By Jove, I haven’t thought of her in ages...”

“Edmund,” hisses Lady Julia. “Be quiet.”

“Friends too,” Fanny continues blithely. “Lady Eliza Penrose, the Honourable Miss Margaret Reynolds, Miss Rose Wentworth, Miss Mary Churchill, Lady Beatrice Thorpe, Mrs. William Smythe-Hall, Lady Sedley — she’s a viscountess now, you know — fancy that, and we were girls together!”

This has had the desired effect, but she does feel herself growing a little cowed under her mother’s fearsome gaze.

“I see,” her mother says, silkily. “Is there anyone left in the Empire to whom you did not write?”

“Oh yes,” she says. “Rather a lot of people, of course. The Empire is quite vast, isn’t it? Her Majesty the Queen has ever so many subjects..."

“You idiotic girl…” Lady Jane says, her voice shaking with rage. “You foolish, idiotic, imprudent, silly little girl!” She slams her palm down on the table, shocking everyone. 

“I say, Jane,” her father begins. “That’s rather harsh, don’t you think? I am quite proud to think so many members of society know of our good works here in Port Victory.”

“I am surrounded by fools,” Lady Jane says, looking to the heavens. “Lord save me.”

“You have Belle,” Fanny offers, practically. “But you don’t like that she’s clever like you. You too, father,” she amends. “You are quite clever too.” This is not strictly true, although she thinks it is not untrue, not really. He beams at her all the same.

“Get out of here,” Lady Jane instructs her daughter. “Go to your room at once.”

“Why?” Fanny knows why, but she really ought to sell it properly. She wants to make Belle proud.

“Why?” asks her father in the same moment.

“Never mind!” Lady Jane looks very red. “Do as I say! Go! Now!”

***

There is rather a lot of noise coming from Father’s study. Shouting, weeping, a sort of wailing sound like a wounded animal that she thinks must be father? A loud crash, which she suspects might be books knocked to the floor:  Fanny hovers on the stairs, trying to gather information to carry back to Belle. 

“…control of your daughter, Jane!” Her father bellows. “Is that too much to ask for? Other women manage it!”

“Other women!” her mother’s voice is shrill. “Other women are not charged with Lady Belle Fox!”

“She is high-spirited, to be sure,” her father allows, and her mother cuts in. 

“You are blind to that girl, Edmund! She makes you into a fool! You will not see her as she is!”

Her father says something she cannot make out. 

“We will be ruined, Edmund, without a solution!” Her mother cries. “I thought — I had thought Dr. Sneed might be prevailed upon…marry her…but these letters…who in Mayfair won’t know the news? And won’t suspect the child was fathered by that dreadful criminal?”

“It is a disaster,” She hears her father groan. “I — I think I might be sick.”

“Now is hardly the time,” her mother retorts.

“I am really coming over quite faint,” she hears her father say, sounding like it.

“Edmund, you are the head of this family! Do something!”

“…I could challenge him to a duel?” Her father offers. 

“Oh, and that wouldn’t be suspicious at all,” Lady Jane’s eye roll is palpable in her tone of voice. “And then it would either leave me a widow, or Belle in an even more dreadful position.”

“I could have him hanged…?” Her father offers again. “Only I do think it would be a waste of medical talent, in the end.”

“If I never hear the words waste of medical talent again, it will be too soon,” lady Jane breathes. “The man has defiled our daughter, Edmund! He has compromised her — taken her virtue and now gotten her with his filthy bastard child.”

“So you do wish me to hang him?”

Fanny’s heart stops — this is not what’s supposed to be happening: 

“Of course not,” bites out Lady Jane. “For then what will she do?”

“But you said —“

“He deserves to hang,” Lady Jane says, fiercely. “The brute. But it will only make things worse for Belle. We must be practical, Edmund.”

This, Fanny thinks, is asking rather a lot of Papa. 

“She could be married quickly, to another man — if Sneed won’t do it, then perhaps—“

Her mother cuts him off again, her voice getting shriller by the second. “Be sensible! It would take at least four months for a suitor to arrive from England, even if he left today — and then who will want to court her, heavy with child? There would be no hope of convincing any man of remote intelligence that the child was his.”

“Perhaps we could find a very stupid man?” Her father says. 

“Edmund!”

At this, Fanny knocks on the door. 

“Who is it?” Her mother’s voice is higher still. “The Governor and I are having a private conversation!” 

“It’s me! Fanny!”  

“Frances!” Her mother yells, clearly grateful for an outlet for her frustration. “You are supposed to be in your — get back in your room, this instant!”

“I have an idea,” she calls back, undeterred. “About Belle’s situation!”

Lady Jane wrenches the door open a fraction and gives Fanny a fierce, reproving look. “Keep your voice down!”

She pulls her daughter inside and slams the door, shaking with emotion.  “What do you imagine you know?”

“Everything,” Fanny says, simply. “I was listening at the door.”

“I — you — what!” Her mother gasps, her mouth falling open. “Frances! What has gotten into you!”

Fanny shrugs. “I wanted to be involved. I am part of this family too, you know.”

“Fanny,” her mother says, jaw tight. “We are speaking of matters that are wholly improper for young ladies — matters of which you do not…cannot know.”

“I know enough,” Fanny says, depositing herself into one of Father’s armchairs. 

“Frances!” Her mother exclaims again, at the same time as father yelps, “Jane! What have you told your daughters?! My God!”

“I haven’t — I haven’t told them anything!” Lady Jane bites back, her face flushing. “It must have been — it must have Belle.”

“Yes,” Fanny nods, and her mother sinks into another chair, burying her face in her hands.

“We are ruined,” her father moans into his hands. 

“Cheer up, Papa,” Fanny says, turning to him, smiling. “I have an idea.”

***

“You are mad,” her mother says, flatly. “You are absolutely mad.” 

“It’s not a bad plan, actually,” her father says, an appraising note in his voice. “It’s not bad at all.” 

“Edmund!” Her mother admonishes him, wheeling around to face him. “Have you gone mad as well?” 

“Well, my dear,” Her father says, a little apologetically. “Belle is in – a bad way…” his eyes flick over to Fanny. “And it seems that there isn’t a reliable way to have the…er…matter hushed up –” 

“Due to those infernal letters!” Lady Jane glares at Fanny, who cringes a little bit. 

“– and so Belle must marry, quickly, and Dr. Dawkins is the…” He seems reluctant to say father in front of Fanny.

“The father,” Fanny fills in. 

“Fanny!” Her mother exclaims, and her father looks quite shocked.

“Well, er, yes,” He averts his gaze. “And making Dawkins Head Surgeon would make it quite respectable. And he’d be able to support her. It mightn’t be the dizzying match you’d hoped for, but it won’t be ruinous. It won’t cause a scandal.” 

Her mother makes a face, looking torn between shouting and sobbing. 

“Mama,” Fanny begins. “You were never going to make a brilliant match for Belle.” 

“Excuse me?” Lady Jane’s nostrils flare menacingly. 

“You know I’m right!” Fanny stamps her foot. “You know how she is! She ignores all her suitors, and when she doesn’t, she’s busy talking to them about – about carbonated acid or amorphous aneurisms, or whatever it is she’s reading about.” 

“It’s a good point,” her father says, fairly. “You know how she is.” 

“But – but –” Her mother gasps, looking thoroughly confused – which is an expression Fanny hasn’t seen frequently on her mother’s face. “The salary will hardly be enough to keep her in a proper style.”

“I could raise it a smidge,” Her father says, shrugging.

“And there is her dowry,” Fanny reminds them.

Her mother purses her lips, very angry. “As if Belle consigning herself to a life alongside that – that criminal isn’t bad enough, now we’re to pay him as well?” 

“Really, my dear,” her father sits down in his chair. “I’m not sure what the alternative solution is. I think Belle really ought to marry Dr. Dawkins without delay.” 

“I won’t – I can’t – I –” her mother splutters, enraged. “This is a disaster.” 

“Perhaps,” Fanny interjects, and they both swivel to look at her, as though they’ve forgotten her presence in the room. “But surely it’s better than complete social ruin?” 

“Hmph.” Her mother snorts, not meeting her eye. 

“Fanny has a good point,” her father nods. Suddenly, he begins to laughs, which his wife does not appreciate. “Cheer up, darling!” He gasps in between bouts of laughter. “At least Belle is finally getting married!” 

He descends into hysterics – Fanny joins in – Lady Jane stares in disbelief. 

“I suppose she is,” she says, at last. "I suppose there is that." 

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: WHAT, FISTICUFFS?!

LADY FANNY FOX

All three of them — Governor Fox, Lady Jane Fox, and Lady Fanny Fox — make for the hospital with great haste. Fanny will admit that it would be less chaotic if she had agreed to stay back, but where is the fun in that? She doesn’t see why she should miss all the fun, not now that everything is finally coming together.

When they arrive at the hospital, Fanny is astonished to see her mother practically leap from the carriage.

“What is going to happen?” She calls after her mother, jogging in her wake. “What is the plan?” 

Her mother ignores her and seems to hurry faster at these words.

“Father?” Fanny turns to her father. “What is the plan?”

Her father is red in the face and struggling to breathe, struggling to catch up with her mother. “I — I — Fanny — whatever your mother says.”

***

DR. JACK DAWKINS

Jack wakes up to what he momentarily thinks is the sound of a cannon. 

“‘S’matter?” He asks, blearily, trying to get his bearings. He is surprised to realize he is not on a ship — he is in a hospital bed with Belle, who is very awake. 

“Did you hear that?” She asks him, looking alarmed. “What was that sound?”

“I don’t know,” he says, frowning. “Perhaps the patients are rioting against Sneed.”

“Ha ha,” she says, smirking. “But — truly — what is it?” She looks worried. “The hospital cannot be under attack, can it?”

“From whom?” He says, laughing a little bit. 

“I don’t know,” she says, shrugging. “But it did sound remarkably like a cannon, did it not?”

“How do you know what cannons sound like?” He asks, curious.

“What I imagine cannons to sound like,” she amends, smiling at him. 

She is so lovely like this — so alive — he is close to kissing her when the door flies open with another bang. There is rather a lot of screaming after that. 

In later years, Jack would struggle to remember exactly what happened after the door opened, for it all happened very quickly — with ever so many people, and a lot of screaming and shouting. Fear and adrenaline do tend to rather prevent one from focusing on too many insignificant details. That is a side effect of fearing for one’s life. 

The first thing he knows is that Lady Jane Fox is in the room, exclaiming in a horrified voice and pointing at him ominously. Belle is shouting back at her mother, but Jack seems to have gone strangely deaf from shock — he cannot seem to register what either of them are saying. 

Behind Lady Jane, he can see Governor Fox and Lady Fanny, both of whom are quite red and gasping for air. Governor Fox massages what seems to be a stitch in his side; Lady Fanny waves at him quite merrily. He smiles at her, despite himself — but he doesn’t dare return the wave. 

“Sneed!” Lady Jane bellows — and Jack can’t say he imagined Lady Jane Fox ever bellowing, and he is rather amazed, for a moment. “Sneed! Get in here, this instant!”

When Sneed does not instantly materialize, she leans into the hallway and shrieks her command even more loudly. Several moments later, a panting, red-faced Rainsford Sneed comes skidding into view. They all rather match, Jack thinks, looking from Sneed to the remaining Foxes.

“What is the meaning of this?” Lady Jane hisses, her voice far more recognizable now. 

Sneed looks around, confused, and then does a double-take when he sees Jack and Belle lying in the hospital bed. They are clothed, Jack thinks, dully — he will never understand the upper class. They are clothed and have clearly not done anything. What is the point of all this to-do?

“Good god, man!” Sneed exclaims, turning even redder, waving his arms frantically. “Dr. Dawkins — get up!” He hurries towards them, and sort of chivvies Jack with his hands. 

“He wasn’t doing anything!” Belle exclaims, hotly. “He’s done nothing wrong.”

“Watch the hands, Sneed,” Jack grumbles, but he doesn’t need to be hurried out of bed — it is like he has finally regained control of his limbs, and he is eager to remove himself from this compromising position. 

“Dr. Sneed,” Lady Jane’s voice shakes with barely-suppressed rage. “Is this what goes on in your hospital? What kind of practice are you running here, exactly?”

Sneed turns to her, seemingly not expecting to have been blamed for this, and begins to stammer. “I — I —I — 

“Good god, and you are supposed to be supervising them!” Governor Fox adds, seeming like he has regained the ability to speak. “Come now, man!”

“It’s not his fault, mother, father,” Fanny pipes up, to general amazement.

“Not his fault!” Lady Jane exclaims. “Whose fault is it, then? Dr. Sneed is meant to be in charge.”

“Yes,” Fanny says, calmly. “But he’s not very good at it.”

Dr. Sneed turns to Fanny now, gaping and looking betrayed. 

“What I mean…” Fanny tries again. “...is that I don’t know if Dr. Sneed is really able to control Belle. You know how she is.” 

Lady Jane looks between Fanny, Belle, and Sneed, as though she doesn’t know which of them to address. She turns to Sneed. “You ought to be able to control Dr. Dawkins, at least!” 

“Damnit! I have not got time,” Sneed exclaims, suddenly seeming to snap, “to run this hospital, practice medicine, and supervise the two most willful people in this entire colony! It is not possible! It cannot be done, damnit!" 

Fanny nods in agreement, looking very serious, and Sneed gives her a grateful look Meanwhile, Jack fights the urge to laugh; he cannot look at Belle, who he is certain will make him laugh.

“I don’t need to be supervised,” says Belle, who both looks and sounds seriously annoyed. 

“Yes, you do,” say Lady Fanny and Sneed in unison. 

“Regardless,” Governor Fox shakes his head, as if to clear away imaginary flies. “This is not why we came here, my dear,” he says, looking to his wife. “Is it?” 

“No,” Lady Jane gives everyone a disapproving look, “but it is related.” She frowns and sighs. “Fanny ought to go outside.” 

“I do not want to go outside, mother!” Fanny exclaims, stamping her foot. 

“Out!” Lady Jane says. “Dr. Sneed, will you take her, please?” 

“Very – very well,” Sneed says, giving Fanny a slightly apologetic look. 

“This is no matter for a young lady of quality,” says Governor Fox to Fanny, looking a strange combination of stern and apologetic. 

“But I am not a young lady of quality?” Belle asks, sarcastically, as Sneed steers an annoyed Fanny from the room. 

“You know perfectly well what we have come here to speak to you about, young lady,” Lady Jane says through gritted teeth.

Jack thinks about volunteering to leave, but he does not want to abandon Belle during what looks to be a very unpleasant conversation. To his surprise, no one insists that he leave. 

“Now,” Lady Jane says, sinking into a chair, rubbing her temples. She looks and sounds exhausted. “I have spoke to Dr. Sneed.” She gives Belle and Jack a sharp look. “I know.” 

Jack frowns – he does not know what she is talking about. He is about to say so, when he feels Belle pinch the back of his leg, rather hard. 

“I am sorry,” Belle says, in a small, very un-Belle-ish voice. “I am so sorry, mother, father.” 

Governor Fox looks positively miserable, and he is looking at his eldest daughter with a tender expression. “Oh, my dear,” he says, his voice quivering with emotion. “It is quite a mess.” 

“That is putting it mildly,” says Lady Jane, looking sterner still. 

“But we have come up with a solution,” Governor Fox says, fixing Jack with a stern look.

What on earth is he talking about? Jack stares at him in confusion. He wants to look at Belle, but somehow feels that this would be giving something away. 

“You two will marry, at once,” He says, sounding exhausted. “Before it becomes apparent why. And – we will arrange to have Dr. Dawkins made the head of the hospital instead of Dr. Sneed. You will have a decent house and a good-enough living – and there will be Lady Belle’s dowry, as well. It is not what we had wanted, or planned, for Lady Belle, but – it will have to do.” 

Lady Jane seems incapable of speech, which surprises Jack almost as much as this declaration. 

“I – er – what?” He says, stupidly. “Marry Belle?” 

“I trust,” Lady Jane says, in an icy tone, “that you will not need to be dragged to the altar, Dr. Dawkins? Not now that you have – have tainted Lady Belle so? I know you are little more than a common varlet, but I thought you would understand that, at least.” 

“Quite – quite so,” Jack says, nodding. He is remembering now – it is flooding back to him in a rush – he has been so tired and so worried about Belle’s recovery that he has somehow forgotten about this mad plot. 

They think Belle is pregnant with his child, he thinks, and this has somehow worked out in his favour – they somehow think that a suitable outcome is for him to marry her – and become Head Surgeon? 

He gapes, still in a state of immense disbelief. “Of course I will marry Lady Belle.” 

“This week, I think,” Governor Fox looks to his wife. “Yes?”

Lady Jane thinks, her expression still sour. “I think it must be – yes, for she will be nearly two months along, now, and we cannot waste anymore time.” 

Jack cannot speak. He cannot believe this is working – this has worked. He fights the urge to laugh or grin or look too pleased with himself. 

“We will do it, mother,” Belle says, in a tone of contrition. “Whatever you think best.” 

Lady Jane makes a disbelieving sound in her throat and fixes Belle with a disapproving look. “And yet, I somehow think that, if I were to think the best thing would be to send you away – or to imprison Dr. Dawkins – you would not agree…” 

Belle starts to get very worked up, and it is Governor Fox who speaks next. “But that is not what you think best, is it, dear? For we have discussed it, have discussed all the options, and decided…” 

“Yes, yes,” Lady Jane says, pressing a hand to her eyes, as though she cannot bear to look at them any longer. “Don’t remind me.” 

“Well,” Governor Fox rubs his hands together, looking from Jack to Belle to his wife. “There is much to do, then, I imagine?”

“I – I can help, Lady Jane,” Jack says, wanting to make her like him, at least a little. 

“With wedding preparations?” Lady Jane gives him a scornful look. “Don’t be absurd, Dr. Dawkins. Fanny will help. Now,” she turns to her husband. “Fetch Dr. Sneed so that we can leave this place, knowing these two are properly chaperoned.” 

“But I thought you thought that Dr. Sneed was not a sufficient chaperone, my dear?” 

“He’s the best we have, in the circumstances,” Lady Jane grits out, very annoyed. “Besides, the worst has already happened. I cannot waste my time preventing other indecencies right now, not when we need to have this wedding over and done with.” 

“Whatever you want, my dear,” Governor Fox says, squeezing her hand. 

Jack finally lets himself look at Belle, his disbelieving look meeting her controlled look of contrition. 

Not yet, she seems to say to him. Wait. 

He grins at her, and he can see her fighting a return grin. For once in his life, Jack cannot believe his luck. 

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: O SISTER, WHERE ART THOU?

LADY FANNY FOX

Fanny does NOT appreciate her mother’s assertion that she needs to be removed from the room for this all-important conversation, and she drags her feet quite petulantly as Dr. Sneed escorts her from the room.

“This is dreadfully unfair,” Fanny tells Dr. Sneed, as he takes her to a sitting area, and gestures to her to sit. “It was my idea. I want to see what happens.”

“I expect you’ll find out soon enough,” Dr. Sneed says, sitting in the chair next to hers. “For you know what they are discussing, surely. We’ve all talked about it quite enough.”

“Yes,” Fanny nods. “I know. But I wanted to see everything unfold. It is not fair that I have to be removed from the room like a child!" 

Dr. Sneed gives her a funny look she cannot seem to identify. “It is only to – to protect your delicate sensibilities, Lady Fanny. Of which I quite approve.” 

“Hmph,” Fanny says. “Do you know – sometimes I think those who seek to protect the delicate sensibilities of young ladies are rather more delicate than we young ladies are. For they seem terribly concerned about such things, far more than I have ever been.” 

Dr. Sneed looks at her very strangely again. “I say, Lady Fanny – you are quite as mad as your sister, I think.” 

Fanny is not sure this is a compliment and stares at him in return. “I – what is the meaning of that, Dr. Sneed?” 

“Only,” Dr. Sneed fumbles over her words. “I – you are far less…conventional than I might have supposed.” 

“Oh no,” Fanny shakes her head. “I’m quite conventional, really.” 

“I am afraid I don’t quite agree,” he says, and to her surprise, he smiles. 

“Goodness!” She breathes, shocked. “What a thing to say, Dr. Sneed!”

He shakes his head, looking embarrassed. “I did not mean it as an insult, Lady Fanny. I am merely – I am merely surprised to see things from your rather…unique point of view.” 

Fanny frowns at him, trying to figure out what he is saying. “Oh, Dr. Sneed! Are you mocking me?” 

“No!” He exclaims, turning very red. “I – I know it sounds odd. But you do have a unique point of view…and I am finding that I, uh – I consider it quite valuable. And I am sorry to have overlooked it, in the past.”

“Oh,” she says, blushing a little bit, looking into her lap. 

They both sit in silence for several long moments, not looking at each other, and Fanny feels very, very peculiar. 

“Lady Fanny,” Dr. Sneed says, and she looks up, to see he is turning very red again. 

“Dr. Sneed,” she says, not sure what is meant to be happening.

“You may call me Rainsford, you know,” He says, surprising her. “I think we have known each other for long enough.” 

“All right,” she says, and she ‘s not sure why she’s blushing at this. “Would you – would you like me to call you Rainsford?” 

“I – “ He breaks off, looking very strange. “Yes, I would.”

“Then I shall,” Fanny says, smiling at him, her heart beating strangely in her chest, and he looks positively thrilled. 

They fall into silence once more – Fanny has the distinct impression that they are each taking it in turns to look at each other and then missing the other one. It is very peculiar. 

“I think…” Dr. Sneed – Rainsford – clears his throat. “I think the conversation may go on for a rather long time. Perhaps I ought to – perhaps I ought to see you home.” 

She opens her mouth to refuse, to insist that she must remain here – that she must find out what is happening. But, to her complete surprise, she finds herself agreeing with him. It is all very peculiar. 

***

DR. RAINSFORD SNEED

Rainsford Sneed doesn’t do things like kiss young ladies of quality in broad daylight, without even a marriage proposal. What's more, he knows he shouldn’t even think about it. He wasn’t brought up to do it. He’s not Jack Dawkins, after all. And, privately, he doesn’t think he’d be quite brave enough, even if he thought it was an acceptable way to behave.

Of course he’s kissed women — he’s thirty years old. He’s kissed women; he’s been to bed with them — although one doesn’t talk about that in polite society, of course. 

When he had imagined he would marry Lady Belle, he had imagined kissing her, of course. Not — he had not imagined anything more, which wouldn’t be respectful, of course. But he hadn’t ever felt any kind of urge to grab her and kiss her at any time that might be considered socially inappropriate. 

Lady Belle is pretty, of course, but he is beginning to think he prefers Lady Fanny’s refined, neat prettiness to Lady Belle’s rather wild looks. And he’s rather finding he keeps thinking about kissing Lady Fanny in broad daylight. 

Lady Fanny is just so — sweet, he thinks, watching her through the corner of his eye. Her smiling face, her rosebud mouth, her soft eyes, her neat hair — she’s just sweet, and soft, and pretty, and he thinks it’s a kind of sweet, soft, prettiness he could lose himself in forever 

And lately, when she starts talking, he finds himself torn between thinking she’s rather mad and thinking she’s a damn sight cleverer than anyone ever seems to notice. She’s still mad, even when her ideas are clever, of course — he had discovered she is just as mad as Belle, albeit in a completely different way. But he sort of likes it, as much as it wrongfoots him. 

And he likes her, he thinks, watching the way her eyes widen in excitement as she peers out the carriage window, impressed by the view – as though she hasn’t seen it a hundred times before. Yes – he likes her quite a bit.

She believes in him, he thinks, his chest swelling with some peculiar emotion. She sees him for who he is, deep down — if not the man he is right now, the man he’s going to become, he decides. 

It has occured to him that Belle’s suggestion is terribly sensible, of course. He should just propose to Lady Fanny and get it over with. But lately he’s started to feel quite... nervous around her. Worried that she might not accept. Or that she will think she is a second choice because Belle is spoken for. Or that she will — he doesn’t really know, casting his mind around wildly — she will laugh at him, or she will only accept to be polite. 

She turns to him, then, and gives him a rather dazzling smile. “Look! Look! Those trees!” She points out some strange-looking trees in the distance. “They are just like the ones I’ve been seeing in my dreams. The ones I’ve been drawing. And Belle kept laughing at them — I don’t know why — and even Jack laughed as well, but I knew I’d seen them somewhere before.”

“I — what?” Sneed looks out the window, following her finger. The trees are too far away for him to get a very good look. “What drawings?” He asks, for want of anything else to say. “I didn’t know you liked to draw.”

“Oh, yes,” she says and begins to rummage in the reticule she has brought along, before unrolling a rather large drawing to show him. Why on earth is she carrying this around? Does she always carry it around?He wonders, but he is distracted when he gets a good look at it. 

“See, this is me, this is Mother, this is Belle, this is Father…” Fanny cheerfully points out figures on the page, but all Sneed can see are a collection of incredibly phallic-looking trees.

He shakes his head. He is seeing things. Good god, is he so deranged he is imagining lewd images where there are none? He needs to get ahold of himself. He closes his eyes and then reopens them. The trees are somehow more phallic looking now. 

“Er, are those the trees?” He points to the page. “The ones you just saw?”

“Yes!” Fanny exclaims, smiling. “See, I knew they resembled the real ones — you recognized them immediately. I cannot wait to tell Belle. She laughed so much when she saw them.”

He had recognized them because they are the only trees in the drawing, but there is no point in debating this, he thinks. He stares again, feeling a little hot under the collar at the idea of her dreaming of such things — being fascinated by such things. Get it together, Rainsford, he tells himself sharply. 

“It’s a very nice drawing,” he says, which is the only thing he can think to say. S

he is completely mad, he thinks. But he likes her ever so much. Does that make him mad?

He’s beginning to think it does. 

*** 

When he drops her at the house, he finds himself pushing to be invited inside (he doesn’t need to push very hard at all). 

They are inside, taking tea, when he decides he should just get on with it, damn everything. 

“Lady Fanny,” he says, awkwardly. “When one has a position in life, one may find oneself capable of supporting a wife. If one is lucky. And I have found myself in a most advantageous position since my brother, the Honourable James Sneed, granted me a share in his nutmeg business.”

“Oh!” Fanny clasps her hands together, looking riveted. “A nutmeg farm! How exciting! Is it dreadfully interesting? Tell me everything, please!”

This is not the response he had been anticipating, but, in fairness, the nutmeg business is very interesting. She asks question after question about nutmeg and she asks so many questions he runs out of thoughts about nutmeg, something he hadn't previously thought possible.

“Er — but that was not the reason I brought up the nutmeg to begin with.” He clears his throat. “Er…”

“You were saying…” Fanny frowns, trying to remember. “Something about having a position in life.” 

“Yes,” he says, trying not to let the mortifying memory of proposing to Lady Belle rush into his brain. “Yes, when one has a position in life, one begins to think of the things one can offer a wife, and one begins to reflect on…” 

He stops, thinking – Lady Belle is right, as it turns out, that repeating the hypothetical one too many times can be quite confusing. “I now have a position in life, and I have been thinking that —” 

She whirls around in her seat, staring over her shoulder, somehow not particularly riveted by what he is saying, peering at something out the window. “They’re home!” 

“What?” He asks, confused, coming back to earth. “Who?” 

“All of them!” Lady Fanny exclaims, her eyes alight with excitement. “Mother, father, Belle, and – oh, even Dr. Dawkins!” 

“Here?” Sneed repeats stupidly, staring at her. “Now?” 

“Yes!” Lady Fanny claps her hands together. “Oh, this is ever so exciting! It’s exactly what I’ve prayed for.” 

“For them all to come here?” Sneed frowns in confusion.

“No, no,” Lady Fanny shakes her head, annoyed. “Of course not. Don’t be silly. For Belle to come home! And for things to be settled between Belle and Dr. Dawkins, of course!” 

“Of course,” Sneed echoes, feeling like he’s outside of himself, watching this unfold. Did she not realize he was about to propose? Or does she simply not want him to? 

He doesn’t know – and he finds he rather desperately wants to know.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: CRAZY LIKE A FOX

DR JACK DAWKINS 

Jack is in a sort of daze as he assists in preparing Belle for her immediate removal to Government House, at the request (demand, rather) of Lady Jane. Lady Jane has decreed that, now that Belle is over the worst of her recovery, it is better for her to continue to convalesce at home. 

Jack rather thinks that this is being done partly to remove her from the hospital, where it is all too easy for the two of them to be alone – although if they really are to be married (and quickly, as Lady Jane has insisted), he doesn’t see that this matters much, at this point. Especially if they believe Belle to be with child already. But he supposes it is something to do with appearances or propriety – he will never understand the upper-class, he thinks. 

When they arrive at Government House, there is a lot of talking at once, and pointing, and general hubbub, as Fanny rushes out of the house, shrieking with excitement (as though she has not just seen her sister earlier that day), and servants stream out to assist. 

Before Jack can quite figure out what is happening, Belle is being whisked upstairs, and he is being dragged into a study by Governor Fox. Lady Jane is, thankfully, busy with the group overseeing Belle’s installation into her bedroom. 

“Now,” Governor Fox fixes him with what is evidently meant to be a stern look. “I – well – “ He breaks off, shaking his head. 

They are seated on either side of his desk, and Jack has to keep fighting the impulse to run – to search for ways to escape – to figure out if he could get from here to that window if he needed to. 

“Well,” He tries again. “This isn’t – this isn’t – this is all rather dreadful, really.” 

Jack nods, unsure what response he is meant to give to this. 

“But I suppose there’s no point crying over spilt milk,” the Governor says, as though to himself. “Goodness, what a fine kettle of fish.”

“Er,” Jack begins, but Governor Fox interrupts him, seemingly having decided what he wants to say.

“Now, in ordinary circumstances, I’d be tempted to take you out back and shoot you,” he says, looking half-jolly and half-menacing – which is a very peculiar combination, as it turns out. 

Jack feels a vague frisson of fear, but says nothing – not yet.

“But I suppose everything will be fixed in a few days. And at least Lady Belle will be married,” Governor Fox says, shaking his head. “She was never going to make a really fine match, you know? Such a pity, but it’s true. So this will have to do.” 

“Thank you, sir,” Jack says, unsure if this is the correct response.

“Now,” Governor Fox fixes him with an intent look, and Jack is reminded that the man is the governor of the colony and not a complete imbecile. “The Prof is ready to retire, so we will have you installed as Head Surgeon as soon as possible – and there is the matter of you moving into the designated house, of course. Poor Rainsford won’t like it much, but…” He breaks off, shaking his head. “He will have to accept it.” 

Jack knows this is all part of the plan, but he cannot believe this is actually happening – that this is being presented to him on a silver platter – instead of him being taken out back and shot, which, frankly, sounds far more like something that would happen to him. 

“I see, sir,” Jack nods, knowing he must look stupid with all the nodding he is doing. “I – I – thank you.” 

“I don’t do it out of any affection for you, of course,” Governor Fox gives him a beady look. “It’s for the benefit of Lady Belle.” 

“Of course.” 

“Now, Lady Jane and I will determine how quickly a suitable date can be obtained at the church. Hopefully within the week,” the man sighs, heavily. “And there is the matter of Lady Belle’s dowry to consider. Now – don’t be offended, man – we shan’t offer the entire dowry, of course – it’s just…too much, in the circumstances. But there will be something, for she ought to have something…” 

He trails off, as though at war with himself over what amount is appropriate when one’s daughter has been impregnated by a possibly-criminal guttersnipe who is now being made to marry her. After much sighing, it seems that he cannot find the answer, presumably having never encountered such a situation before.

“You must do everything in your power to give my daughter the life she deserves, Dr. Dawkins,” Governor Fox says, sternly. “Do you hear me? This is not the future we imagined, of course – who would? – but you must make yourself worthy of her. I will not see Lady Belle living in squalor or even living in anyway unworthy of her.” 

“Yes, sir, I hear you,” Jack nods. “And I promise you – I promise you I will spend my whole life trying to be worthy of B – Lady Belle. For I – I love her more than words can say. And I will do everything I can to make sure she is safe, and happy, and looked after.” 

He nods, apparently pleased with this. “Good. Now – go up and see to Lady Belle, will you? Lady Jane will have a long list of instructions for you, I’m sure.” 

***

LADY BELLE FOX

Belle is desperate to speak to Jack alone, but her mother insists that Sneed remain behind as a chaperone – she struggles not to roll her eyes at this. 

“Sneed, leave us, please,” Belle says, trying to strike the right note between imperiousness (which Sneed naturally responds to and respects) and politeness (so as not to raise his hackles).

He makes a noise of protest. 

“Sneed,” Jack says, struggling to contain his irritation. “I am hardly going to take advantage of her in this state.”

“Besides,” Belle says, “you know you needn’t worry about my virtue.”

Sneed turns very red. “Good god,” he says, closing his eyes, as though asking for strength. “10 minutes. I will wait outside the door.”

“Don’t wait outside the door!” Belle says, irritated.

“I shall,” Sneed says, sounding like a peeved elder brother. “I shan’t…listen. Only don’t do anything that would make…noise, mind.” He turns redder, somehow. 

“Fine,” Belle snaps, at his retreating back. 

Sneed makes an annoyed gesture in the air, not turning to look back. 

“Thank God,” Jack says, smiling at her. “I thought we’d never be alone.”

He sits beside her, on the edge of the bed, running a gentle hand up and down her leg. 

“Jack,” she breathes, the movement of his making her skin prickle with want. “Don’t — don’t touch my leg like that.”

“Why?” He frowns. “Am I hurting you?” 

She shakes her head, blushing. “Not at all. It’s — it’s only that —“

“Oh,” he grins, eyes flashing with amusement. “I see. Somehow, I cannot decide whether I ought to continue or stop.”

“Stop, unless you intend to do something more than that.” She says, raising her eyebrows in a challenge. 

He stops his hand. “Your heart…” he says, his brow creased in concern. “I worry…even if we had more time — if Sneed were not outside the door —“

“I know,” she says, deciding this is a battle for another day. She takes his hand, and he squeezes hers.

“Is this what you want, Belle?” Jack looks at her, his dark eyes nervous.

“To stop?” She asks, laughing. “No.”

“You know what I am asking,” he says, his voice full of tender emotion. “Don’t toy with me, please.”

“Yes,” she says, keeping her voice steady. “To marry you? Yes. Why would I have worked so hard to make all this happen, if I didn’t?”

He lets out a shaky breath, bringing his other hand up to trace her face, pushing her hair out of her eyes.  She feels, suddenly, as though she has gone back to the night he burst into her room, and begged her to run away with him — before he knew about her broken, traitorous heart. 

“I don’t know…” he says, shaking his head, disbelieving. “I only — I somehow cannot believe it is real. That you — that you love me. That you would tie yourself to me, like this, forever. That you would throw everything away for—“

“I am not throwing anything away,” she says, fiercely, determined that he understand this. “Don’t say that. Don’t you see how I have made it so that it is possible? You said the world would never allow us to be together, and I can’t live in that sort of world. So I’ve made a new one where we can be, Jack.” 

She says it like it’s perfectly natural that someone should do this, if they find the ways of the world not built exactly to their liking. 

He laughs, his eyes crinkling with affection. “You are miraculous, you know? You are a miracle.”

She means to roll her eyes at this, or to laugh it off, but the emotion in her eyes is too much — she feels like she’s going to drown in his eyes, and she finds she cannot roll her eyes or laugh.  “No,” she shakes her head. “You are the miracle, Jack. You did the impossible. You gave me this life. And I intend to live it how I want to.”

He opens his mouth to argue this — to tell her, no doubt, that she is the one who diagnosed herself, who forced him to learn. 

“Please,” she says, “just let me give you some credit.”

“No,” he says, grinning, even though she thinks he is on the brink of tears. “You must share the credit. As we will share everything, I hope.”

“Oh?” She raises her eyebrows at him, enjoying this. “And why do you think we will share everything?”

“I —“ he frowns, confused. “We are to be married? And I rather thought you’d want to share—“

“Are we? To be married?” Belle arches an eyebrow, trying very hard not to grin. 

“We — I — what?” Jack stares at her. "You have lost me."

“You haven’t asked me to marry you,” Belle says, shrugging delicately. “A lady does like to be asked, you know.”

“You are the most infuriating woman,” Jack laughs. “God, you made my heart stop.”

She says nothing, waiting. 

He laughs again, shaking his head. “I suppose I ought to know what ladies like, if I’m to marry one.”

“Yes,” she says, “you should.” She juts her chin out at him, trying to keep her expression haughty. “Go on, then.”

He looks like he is about to crack a joke, and then thinks better of it. He takes both of her hands in his, and leans into her. She is surprised to hear the way his voice shakes when he speaks.

“Belle,” he breathes. “Please marry me. Be my wife. When I thought you would die — when I thought you had died —“ he breaks off, his face crumpling. “I felt there was no life left for me to live. I cannot imagine a life without you in it — without you by my side.” He takes a deep breath, his face quivering as he speaks. “I never — I never imagined marrying you was possible. I never imagined loving like this was possible. And now that it is — Marry me, Belle. Please.”

She wants to crack a joke — to tell him to call her Lady Belle, or to get down on one knee. But she cannot joke, not now, not with the liquid, tender look in his eyes, the beautiful emotion of his voice.  “Yes,” she says, whispering it, almost choking on the word. “Of course, Jack. Of course.”

He kisses her, kisses her more passionately than she had expected, and she pulls him to her, wanting him as close to her as possible — like she’s searching for assurance that he’s really here with her. 

“I love you,” she tells him, in between kisses, feeling like she’s going to cry. 

“I love you more than you can imagine. More than I ever imagined.” Jack laughs shakily, kissing her.

“No,” she says, fiercely, her heart racing in the way it is meant to. “No, I can imagine it. It is you who cannot know how I love you.”

They are kissing again, his hands in her hair, and her hands beginning to tug on his shirt, when the door bangs open, and an irritated-looking Dr. Sneed stomps into the room in high dudgeon. 

“All right,” he says, sounding embarrassed and quite tired. “No more of that, please. Enough!” He claps his hands, and they break apart.

“Lady Belle has agreed to marry me,” Jack says to Sneed, a little breathless. 

“I should think so,” Sneed says, incredulously. “Or what has this all been for?”

***

Many hours later — both doctors have been sent home — Lady Fanny Fox is seated in her sister’s bedroom, watching her as she reclines in bed. 

“You don’t need to sit here, staring at me, Fanny,” Belle says, trying not to sound annoyed. “It is a little disconcerting.”

“Oh!” Fanny says, looking apologetic. “Only — I am so relieved to see you, Belle. To have you back in the house. I thought…I worried I might never see you well again, at times.”

Belle smiles, and reaches a hand out to her sister. “I love you, you goose.”

“I love you, too, Belly, but I don’t know why I am a goose…” Fanny says, nearly in tears with emotion. “Geese are not very lovable creatures.”

Belle folds her baby sister into her arms, drawing her into a tight hug. “Oh, Fan.”

After they break apart, Fanny looks at her intently. “So, it has worked! You are to marry Dr. Dawkins!”

“Yes,” Belle breathes, smiling. “Although we ought not to celebrate until it is done.”

Fanny nods, seriously. “A week, then, and then we may celebrate.”

“Fanny,” Belle says, in a voice that she hopes is casual. “Have you heard anything from Mr. Twist lately?  

“No,” says Fanny, twisting her fingers and looking nervous. “I have not. And I asked Father — and he didn’t seem to know either.”

“Only,” Belle doesn’t want to push — she doesn’t want to be too bossy, which her sister will not respond well to, she thinks. “Only I’ve rather been wondering if you ought to marry him, after all.”

“Oh!” Fanny exclaims, looking shocked. “But we are engaged!”

“Are you?” Belle asks, trying not to sound too dubious. 

“Yes!” Fanny exclaims. “I think so…” she amends, trailing off as she thinks. 

“And if you are,” Belle says, carefully. “You needn’t stay engaged, if you don’t want to be.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to be?” Fanny says, trying to sound alarmed, but clearly interested in what Belle wants to say. 

“Well,” Belle says, feeling very awkward. “If you felt he was a different sort of man than you first thought. If your feelings changed. If you met someone else who made you feel things you ought not to.”

“You really think I could cry off, then?” Fanny’s eyes widen. “If — if those things were true.”

“Yes, I do,” Belle says, firmly. “Life is short, Fan — you ought to have what you want, and not be afraid. Look at me, darling — what could have happened to me, had Jack not figured out the surgery? I could have been dead by 24.”

“I do have what I want,” Fanny says, automatically. “Or I will, at least — the love of a good man, a beloved husband, a position in society, security, babies…” She babbles a little, a nervous, faraway look on her face. 

“It needn’t be with Mr. Twist, though,” Belle says, cautiously. 

“But we are engaged!” Fanny insists, the colour rising in her face. 

“And if you were not engaged?” Belle pries, curious. “What then?”

“What then? Whatever do you mean?”

“Well,” Belle says, carefully weighing the words as she speaks. “Is there another you might be…interested in?” Fanny turns pink, and Belle feels triumphant.  “I have noticed that you and Dr. Sneed seem very…friendly…” Belle says, trying not to make her voice too knowing or significant.

“Oh, Belly, don’t tease!” Fanny says, turning pinker and looking hurt. “You know he doesn’t feel that way about me, and it’s not — it’s not nice to tease me this way.”

“I wasn’t teasing you!” Belle insists, taking her hand. “I wasn’t, Fan. I swear.” Fanny eyes her, unsure.  Belle continues. “He may not have felt that way in the past, but feelings can change, you know. Feelings can grow from — from simple friendship.”

Fanny looks at her with great interest. “Can they?”

“Of course,” Belle says, nodding. “Feelings are not set in stone — they are not some immutable fact of the universe, like gravity, or…”

“Please don’t compare it to scientific thingies, Belle, for you know I shan’t understand,” Fanny says, laughing a little bit. “I take it that gravity is quite a fixed thing?”

“Of course it is!” Belle says, forgetting her mission. “I have some books you really need to read, Fanny…”

Fanny laughs. “And what if I said I had some books you ought to read, would you read them?”

Belle feels annoyed. “That is different,” she says, hotly. “They are — romances, sensation novels…this is science, Fan.”

“I know,” Fanny says, rolling her eyes. “And that is why I have avoided it.”

Belle sighs.

“I am listening, you know,” Fanny says, squeezing her hand. “I do understand what you are saying, sister.”

“You do?”

“Yes,” Fanny says, her face inscrutable. “I’m not saying I shall…do anything. I am simply saying I understand.”

Belle smiles. “That is all I ask, Fan.”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: THE PICKPOCKET'S PROGRESS

LADY FANNY FOX

Much to Lady Jane’s consternation, the wedding is quite a hurried, muted affair. 

“Well, Mama, you cannot really be disappointed,” Belle tells her mother. “For I can hardly imagine you would want the cream of society to witness my wedding to a – what did you call him last? – a street urchin?” 

“Belle!” Fanny hisses her under breath, for Belle is really pushing her luck, Fanny thinks. 

“Watch your mouth,” Lady Jane says, sniffing. “This wedding hasn’t happened yet.” 

They are at St. George’s Church, the ladies sequestered in a side-room designated for this purpose. Belle is wearing one of her nicer day dresses of cobalt blue silk, which Fanny has seen on several occasions, with her hair nicely twisted into a stylish knot. There has obviously not been time to have a white dress made, although Belle does not seem to care much – Fanny thinks she would care very much, for having a wedding dress in the latest style would be very important, she thinks, but she supposes it must be most important to simply get married. 

“You look very pretty, Belle,” Fanny says, breathlessly – she has always liked this dress. “But it is such a pity that we can’t dress your hair in orange blossoms.” 

She sighs. Orange blossoms are the height of fashion for brides, and she is sad for Belle that they don’t have them here in Port Victory. One day, perhaps, they will be introduced to Australia, but she supposes the people who import things have rather more pressing priorities. Clearly, she thinks, it is men making these decisions, for anyone who has ever been a bride would understand how vitally important orange blossoms are. 

Fanny has collected some white flowers from their garden – lemon myrtle, she thinks they are called – and their maid, Hopkins, has done a good enough job fixing them in Belle’s hair. But still, she thinks, they are not orange blossoms.

“Somehow, I find I don’t care so terribly about what type of flowers are in my hair, Fan,” Belle says, squeezing her sister’s hand. “If I’m marrying Jack, I don’t care what type of flowers I have, or if I have any at all.” 

Lady Jane makes a noise of great displeasure but says nothing. 

“Ladies,” an attendant sticks his head into the room. “Lady Jane, Lady Fanny, Lady Belle – the minister has bade me tell you that we can proceed as soon as you are ready.” 

“We are ready,” Belle says, at the same time their mother says, “I shall never be ready, not for this.”

Fanny grins. This is actually happening, she thinks, with a stab of glee. They've actually pulled this off. 

*** 

LADY BELLE FOX

Lady Belle is extremely relieved the wedding day is finally here, and not least because she thinks her courses are due in four days time – and if she bleeds on the sheets, it will rather put paid to this entire scheme. But the timing is just right, and she is overwhelmed with excitement and relief once her father starts escorting her down the aisle. 

Jack is waiting at the end of the aisle, with the minister, looking very handsome in a black frock coat that is quite nicer than the one she’s seen him in before – she thinks that it might belong to Sneed, actually, and has to stifle the urge not to laugh at the thought of Sneed lending Jack clothes. 

But this is not the type of occasion when Sneed is going to occupy much of her thoughts, and she is soon entirely focused on Jack. The wedding seems to pass in a haze, and Belle finds herself married to Jack Dawkins, quite stunned. 

They’ve done it, she thinks. They’ve actually pulled this off. 

***

DR. JACK DAWKINS

Of all the places Jack Dawkins has ended up in his twenty-eight years – the streets, the gallows, the navy, bound for Botany Bay itself on a convict ship – he cannot say he ever expected to find himself standing before a church being wed to Lady Belle Fox. 

But today, he does find himself in just that position, much to his incredible astonishment. 

As he stands at the altar, looking out into the pews (the only guests in attendance are Sneed, the Prof and his wife, Fagin, and Hetty), he half-expects someone to run towards him screaming STOP or brandishing a warrant for his arrest or something of that sort.

Even once he sees Belle – once he sees her parents, rather – he thinks that surely her parents are about to seize him and throw him in prison, or maybe someone’s going to behead him right here in the church. 

But, to his astonishment, none of this happens. No one screams, no one arrests him, no one threatens violence. Lady Jane purses her lips and looks rather like she’s sucking on a lemon, but that is practically an open-armed welcome from her, he thinks. 

Instead, he stands with Belle – who is beautiful in blue, with white flowers in her hair, her smile the largest he’s ever seen it – and the minister actually marries them. 

They are actually married. If you told Jack Dawkins he’d one day be marrying someone like Lady Belle Fox – well, actually, she’s Lady Belle Dawkins now, he thinks with a burst of something electric in his chest – he would never, ever have believed it. 

He’s sure come a long way from the slums of the East End – and by the way Fagin catches his eye and grins, he thinks he’s not the only one who knows it.

Chapter Text

LADY FANNY FOX

Nobody is more thrilled about Belle and Jack’s marriage than Fanny, of course. Well - possibly Belle and Jack themselves, but Fanny is a close third. Or is it a close second? Are Belle and Jack a unit, now? Fanny’s not sure.  In any event, after Belle and Jack, Fanny is the most thrilled. No one could dispute this. 

But somehow, in the excitement of planning the whole thing – the thrill of pulling it off – the very real work that needed to go into everything – Fanny had quite forgotten that the successful completion of the plan would mean that Belle would no longer reside at Government House.  In the weeks after Belle’s wedding, Fanny begins to realize that Belle’s happiness means that she, Fanny, is quite alone now – and she doesn’t like it one little bit. She really hadn’t anticipated this result in the slightest. 

The only solution, she resolves, two weeks after the wedding, is that she, Fanny, must secure her own engagement at once. Which means determining, once and for all, what has happened to Mr. Twist. 

What she must do, she thinks, is call on Belle. Belle will have the answer – her initial problem was thinking Father would have the answer, when it is always her big sister who really knows, she thinks. 

Besides, she reminds herself, Belle owes her. 

DR. RAINSFORD SNEED

Sneed finds himself in a deuced awkward position after the wedding. 

Now that Jack and Lady Belle are married (which is fine, he thinks – he doesn’t know what Lady Belle sees in Jack, but the man did save her life, so Sneed supposes falling in love could be a side effect of that), Dr. Dawkins has been installed as Chief Surgeon, to general shock (and some celebration in Port Victory). 

However, Sneed’s participation in this farce means he has surrendered his claim to the position of chief surgeon without securing his own position. Why, he thinks to himself, deeply annoyed, had he not secured Lady Fanny’s hand in marriage before agreeing to surrender the Chief Surgeon post to Jack? This was a deeply foolish move.

For now he is left in the awkward position of having neither the job nor Lady Fanny’s hand (nor Lady Belle’s, although he rather thinks that’s been off the table for quite some time), and he feels damned awkward about it all. For he should just do it – just propose to Lady Fanny – she will say yes, he thinks, although he’s not entirely sure of this – nor is he entirely sure that he wants her to just say yes because she seems like the kind of girl who’d say yes to any half-way respectable man. He rather thinks if she says yes, he’d like her to be saying yes to him, specifically. 

This is such a strange feeling – so at odds with the way he’s lived his life – for he always thinks that, when a door you have been knocking on opens, you ought to rush in without asking why it has opened – he does not know why he cannot seem to approach this matter in the same way. 

He’s beginning to think he might be in love with Lady Fanny Fox.

Rainsford Sneed has never been in love before. At least, he thinks he has never been in love. He thinks he would know if he’s been in love. He thinks he would know if he is , currently, in love. But he’s beginning to think that he doesn’t know much about anything – that the entire world is dictated by forces more irrational than he could ever have foretold. 

There is also the matter of that Mr. Oliver Twist, he thinks – how has he forgotten about the man? He is – theoretically, it seems – Lady Fanny’s betrothed. God, he thinks, annoyed – how can one man be so forgettable and yet cause so much trouble? He likes to think that he himself would never – it was one thing to be forgettable, but he would never cause trouble, surely! An Eton man should never, he thinks with a scowl – it is surely because Mr. Twist proceeded on to study at Cambridge after his education, instead of Oxford. An Oxford man would never. A Balliol College man would never! 

This line of thinking is interrupted by a great deal of noise in the hospital, and Sneed looks up to see Jack Dawkins walk through the front door. A great many people crowd around him, congratulating him on his wedding, congratulating him on his appointment, and generally making more noise and fuss than Sneed thinks is really appropriate. 

When Jack greets Sneed (“Dr. Sneed,” with a nod – they are not the best of friends, even now, after all), Sneed blurts out, “What are you doing here?” 

“I work here, Sneed,” Jack says, eyes dancing, looking far more pleased than Sneed thinks he should. “I am, in fact, your superior, in case you’ve forgotten.” 

Jack is enjoying this every bit as much as Sneed knew he would, and he fights the urge to scowl at Jack. 

“I am well aware of that fact,” Sneed says, his voice crisp with contained annoyance. “What I meant,” he emphasizes the last word, “is what are you doing here now? I thought you were meant to be on a honeymoon of sorts.” 

He says of sorts because they haven’t gone anywhere, as far as he knows – Dawkins has no money for it, and, besides, getting anywhere in this blasted colony takes a dog's age, so there isn’t much point. 

“I certainly have,” Jack grins a little wolfishly at Sneed – Sneed also thinks this is inappropriate. “But the two weeks are up now, old fellow. And I was terribly worried everything would go to Bedlam with only you in charge.” 

Sneed scowls at him. “Time flies when one is having fun, I suppose.” 

“Yes,” Jack says, wistfully. 

“I was speaking of myself, here, without you,” Sneed retorts, “Not of you and Lady Belle in wedded bliss.” He feels mortified when he says this last bit, and rather regrets it by the way Jack smirks at him. 

“Perhaps you ought to consider matrimony, Sneed,” Jack tells him, in that unbearable tone of voice people adopt when they think they know things you do not. “I think it might improve you.” 

Sneed doesn’t know what to say to this – he is considering it, it would improve him – and scowls instead. “I don’t need to take advice from you.”

“Ah, but – “ 

“I meant outside of this hospital,” Sneed grits out. “I know you are the Chief Surgeon.” 

Jack grins very broadly, and then – to Sneed’s surprise – claps him on the back. “Come on, Sneed, let’s go over the logs. I want to know what you’ve been up to in my absence.” 

It is only later, when they have finished reviewing the logs – there is much arguing over pointless disputes, although neither man will concede that the disputes are pointless – that Sneed has a realization.  If Jack has returned to the hospital, it means Lady Belle will be at home alone – or, without Jack. He can speak to Lady Belle in private (or at least without Jack).

For the thing is that he’s realized he needs Lady Belle’s help rather badly – and she certainly owes him, he thinks, grimly – but he’d rather die than let Jack Dawkins know that. 

*** 

LADY BELLE DAWKINS

Belle is not happy at all when her husband has to return to the hospital.  Both because she rather thinks he belongs here, with her, in bed – or at the very least by her side at all times of the day – and because she quite resents his return to the hospital without her.  Her recovery is progressing very nicely, but she is still healing, and Jack has insisted that she not return to the hospital until she is fully healed. 

“It isn’t safe – you will be surrounded by disease, and you are still in a weakened state – I won’t allow it!” He had exclaimed, outraged by the idea of it. 

She gives him a scornful look. “You won’t allow it? What, as my husband, you intend to forbid me?”

“Of course not,” Jack snorts. “I am not that foolish. I am forbidding you as your physician.” 

They squabble a little bit over this – and then they discover how wonderful it can be to make up after a fight, once one is married – and Jack leaves for the hospital, while Belle remains behind at home.

She has been reading a little bit about the concept of germs, in various medical journals – that is where the idea of the carbolic acid came from, after all – and she knows there is sense in what Jack says (which is the only reason she agreed to this prescription – because she thought there was reasonable scientific grounds for it), but she resents it all the same. 

It is very strange to realize she has a home of her own, separate from her family 

Victory Cottage is a very sweet house – it is much smaller and far less grand than any house Belle has ever lived in, and far larger and grander than any house Jack has ever called home.  It is a neat stone house with four bedrooms, and several receiving rooms, and it is really imminently suitable, even if the reduced size is a shock to Belle initially. It is exactly the sort of house that the wife of a prosperous doctor would be happy to preside over – and she is thrilled to realize that is exactly what she is.  She is much more than that, of course, but she is thrilled to be the wife of a doctor – of one particular doctor – all the same. 

It also comes with staff – a maid, a cook, a housekeeper, a butler, and a lady’s maid – and Belle realizes she is meant to be in charge of all of these people, something she doesn’t have the slightest interest in. Fortunately, the housekeeper – Mrs. Gibbons – is a commanding sort of person, who seems to have established many different routines during the Prof’s time in the house, and Belle is more than happy to leave the running of the household to her. 

She is spending most of her days in the parlour, these days, reclining on the sofa, reading various texts. She has had enough of her bedroom to last a lifetime, she thinks – well, enough of convalescing in bed – she blushes as she thinks that there are a number of things she’d like to be doing in bed with Jack that she thinks she’ll never be sick of. 

“Lady Belle,” the butler says, entering the room (what is the man’s name, Belle thinks, desperately – Watson? Taylor? She has asked him so many times it is becoming embarrassing). “You have a caller.” 

She looks up from her copy of the Lancet, blinking. She’s rather forgotten that callers exist. “Who?” 

“Lady Fanny Fox,” he says, and Belle laughs immediately. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says, seeing the way the man looks embarrassed – even slightly offended. “Only – she’s my sister, and I – I thought you meant someone very grand.” 

“Your ladyship’s sister is a grand sort of person,” the man says, and Belle resists the urge to laugh.

“I suppose so,” Belle allows. The butler stands there, waiting – and then Belle remembers she must tell him that she’s willing to receive Fanny.  “Oh, show her in, er –” 

“Townsend, ma’am,” the man looks a little bit annoyed. 

“Of course,” Belle says. “I was about to say so.”

“Of course,” the man – Townsend – nods. 

Fanny comes rushing into the room in her usual state of excitement, and Belle feels unreasonably glad to see her. 

“Oh, sister, I have missed you!” Fanny exclaims, before Belle can say anything, and positively collapses on the sofa next to her. She embraces Belle, making Belle laugh a little bit, and return the hug.

“You sound as though I’ve been on some months-long voyage,” Belle teases her, patting her arm affectionately. “It’s only been two weeks.” 

“Two weeks is an absolute life-time,” Fanny says. “I do not think you and I have ever been apart for two whole weeks before!” 

“Well, before you were born…” Belle says. 

Fanny rolls her eyes. “Since my birth, we have never been parted for two weeks! It’s been quite an ordeal.” 

Belle laughs. “And yet, somehow, you’ve survived, darling.” 

Fanny is caught between a laugh and a scowl. “Aren’t you happy to see me?” 

“You know I am, you goose,” Belle says, squeezing her hand. “You are my first caller, and I think you are best caller one could hope for.”

The sisters fall into chatter, discussing the myriad of things sisters do when they’ve been parted for two weeks, after a lifetime of knowing the minutiae of each other’s lives. 

“Belle,” Fanny says, surveying her sister over the rim of her teacup, looking oddly guilty. “I have to confess I have come here with an ulterior motive.” 

“Oh?” Belle raises an eyebrow, and sips her own tea, to prevent herself from laughing at her sister’s dramatic tone. 

“Yes,” Fanny sighs. “It’s too dreadful for words.” 

This makes something catch in Belle’s chest for a second – has something happened to Mother or Father? Is Fanny sick? – but she’s known Fanny far too long and far too well to be that worried. 

“I must determine, once and for all, what is happening with Mr. Twist,” Fanny says, “and if I truly wish to be engaged to him.” 

Belle resists the urge to smile. “What is happening with him?”

“Yes!” Fanny exclaims, looking distressed. “For I have not heard from him since before your surgery – it has been nearly three months now, with no word! I do not even know where in the world he is. He could be dead, for all I know.” She adds the last bit dramatically, a bit of an afterthought. 

“I’m sure he’s not dead,” Belle says, practically. “Surely we’d know if he was dead.” 

“Well, that’s just it,” Fanny twists her fingers. “I don’t know. I asked Father, and he was no help at all. So I’ve come to you – for if anyone can help me, it will be you, Belly.” 

Belle snorts. “Did you say that just so I’d help you?” 

“No!” Fanny exclaims. “You know I wouldn’t. You are the cleverest person I know, Belly. And besides,” she narrows her eyes a little. “You owe me. “

“Of course I shall help you,” Belle laughs, squeezing her hand again. 

“Matrimony must be a very agreeable state,” Fanny remarks, her eyes twinkling at her sister. “For you are in a much better mood than usual.” 

 “Very agreeable.” Belle grins at her sister, blushing. ”There is the added benefit, of course, of not worrying about my heart every second of every day.”

“Because now you and Dr. Dawkins are married and your heart is content,” Fanny sighs, looking transported. “How lovely.” 

“No, you dunderhead,” Belle says, annoyed. “I meant it literally, not metaphorically – because of the surgery.” 

“Oh,” Fanny says, looking surprised. “Oh, of course. I rather forgot.” 

“How nice for you.” 

Fanny gives her a peeved look in return. “I think you must mean it a little metaphorically, also, Belly.” 

“I suppose a little bit,” Belle admits. “Now – tell me the whole story of Mr. Twist. The last time you saw him. Start at the beginning and don’t leave anything out.” 

***

Fanny is refreshing herself when Townsend returns to announce to Belle that there is another caller.

“Who?” Belle asks, startled. Surely it is not one of her parents – she is not quite ready to see either of them, especially since she knows her mother will be eyeing her beadily in search of evidence of her supposed pregnancy. 

“A Dr. Rainsford Sneed,” the man says, and Belle goggles at him.

“Sneed?” She says, dumbfounded. “Rainsford Sneed? Are you sure?”

“It is a fairly distinctive name, ma’am,” Townsend says, and she must admit that it is. 

“I am not available,” Belle says, for she thinks she and Fanny are quite busy.

“I can hear you!” She hears Sneed shouting from the entrance. “I know you are at home!” 

Damn him, she thinks.  “Let him in,” she says, to Townsend. 

Sneed looks uncharacteristically red-faced and ruffled when he is admitted – although he so frequently looks ruffled these days that she’s beginning to think it really is rather characteristic of him. 

“What are you doing here?” She asks him.

“A nice way to greet a man who has done you a tremendous favour,” Sneed says, in a sniffy sort of voice. 

“Because you were too cowardly to correctly diagnose me, and were content to consign me to death in order to protect yourself,” Belle reminds him, in a sweet tone of voice.

“Er…yes,” Sneed concedes, a little shame-faced. “There was – there was that. Although I would submit that one –” 

Belle puts a hand up. “I am meant to be convalescing, Rainsford, please do not subject me to a long, hypothetical explanation – I cannot bear it.” 

He scowls at her, and she suddenly feels like laughing. He reminds her now of the Rainsford she remembers from childhood – and she feels incredibly fond of him as a result.  

“Fine.” His tone is huffy and he crosses his arms. “Are you going to invite me to sit down?” 

“Oh, won’t you please sit down?” Belle asks in a sardonic tone. 

He sits. 

“Well?” She says, curious. “Dr. Dawkins is at the hospital, as you know.”

“Er, yes, “ Sneed says, wringing his hands in his lap. “That is why I have come – I have come specifically to seek a private audience with you.” 

Belle stares at him. “Sneed, surely you don’t imagine that I am – that I would – that there could be any feeling between us – not now, not ever, least of all because I am married!”

“Good god,” Sneed huffs, turning redder. “I – of course that is not the reason I have come!” 

“Oh,” Belle feels more embarrassed than she wants to let on. “Oh – I see. I only thought – I would just make things clear.” 

“Things are very clear,” Sneed spits out, annoyed and embarrassed. “I need – I need your help.”

“You need my help?” Belle has heard him just fine, of course. She simply cannot believe it. “With something medical?” 

“Yes, I do. And it is not – not entirely medical,” Sneed says stiffly. “It is not medical at all, actually,” he admits, after a long moment. 

Belle stares at him. This is turning into a far more diverting day than she ever imagined. “Please elaborate, as I am not a mind-reader, Rainsford.” 

He grumbles something incomprehensible, before clearing his throat. “I wish – I wish to know what has become of Mr. Oliver Twist.” 

“Mr. Twist?” Belle is truly shocked – whatever does Sneed want with that man?  And then she realizes, and begins to smile very slowly.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?” Sneed asks. “I wish you wouldn’t. It’s tremendously unnerving. You look mad when you do it. You look like your sister.” 

At that moment, Fanny returns, and exclaims in surprise. “Dr. Sneed! Rainsford! Fancy seeing you here!” 

“Lady Fanny!” Sneed turns very red, and then gives Belle a reproachful look, as though she ought to have warned him. “I – I – truly, it is a pleasure.” 

“You know,” Belle tells the room, settling herself back against the cushions, regarding Sneed with a great deal of fondness, like he is a sort of younger brother or annoying cousin. “Fanny was just telling me how much she wants to know what became of Mr. Twist as well. Perhaps the two of you ought to work together.” 

“Oh!” exclaims Fanny, at the same time Sneed says, “I – what?” in a confused tone. 

Belle smiles even wider at them. Oh, she thinks, this is going to be fun. Suddenly, her convalescence seems far more diverting than she ever imagined.

Chapter Text

LADY FANNY FOX

The first thing they must do is speak to Jack’s uncle, Mr. Fagin. That is what Belle had advised, and Fanny thinks it’s most sensible. For if Jack knew Mr. Twist in his youth, then it stands to reason that his uncle may have had some contact with Mr. Twist during that time. 

“We will likely find him in the Cat & Bagpipes,” Fanny tells Sneed, brightly. “Belle says Jack says he’s a regular there.” 

She feels much better after speaking with Belle, as she knew she would. Fanny always feels better when she has a plan – and Belle is quite the same, really. She knew she could count on her sister. 

“I recall,” Sneed says, sounding exhausted by the idea. “All too well.” 

“You needn’t come,” Fanny says, “If the thought is too exhausting for you.”  She doesn’t mean for her voice to come out so sharply – it’s just that Sneed is behaving as though this is some enormous chore, and he’s the one who is tagging along on her errand. She didn’t beg him to accompany her – if he doesn’t want to be here, he needn’t come along. 

“No, no, no,” Sneed shakes his head. “I – I am quite as invested in the fate of Mr. Twist as you are. I am only – I find that place a little daunting, if truth be told.” 

“It’s not so bad,” she says, in what is meant to be a fortifying sort of tone. “You simply have to look at it as though it’s an adventure.” 

“But I don’t much like adventure,” Sneed says, muttering to himself, but she chooses to ignore this. 

The carriage trundles along over the dirty, dusty roads, and she cannot really see much out of the window, because the dust is blocking her view. No trees today, sadly. 

“Are you going to paint something that you see out the window?” Sneed squints over her shoulder. “It’s very brown, isn’t it? Not much to see.” 

“Why are you invested in the fate of Mr. Twist?” Fanny asks, ignoring this remark. “And why should you be quite as invested in his fate as I am?” 

“Oh,” Sneed says, turning a strange purple-red shade. He looks a little like the top half of a rutabaga, Fanny thinks, only with a moustache. But a very nice rutabaga all the same. 

“Oh?” She echoes back at him. She cannot explain what has gotten into her, to be speaking so boldly and challenging him on things, but she doesn’t understand why he’s here, why he’s behaving so oddly, or why she feels so…so discomfited by his presence, lately. Perhaps Belle’s influence is finally making itself known.

Well – Fanny does know why she feels so discomfited by his presence lately. Ladies don’t tell falsehoods, even in their internal narratives. For she feels quite fond of Rainsford – more fond than a friend ought to be. More fond than an engaged lady ought to be. 

And she’s tried not to! She’s tried to forget about him – first he had eyes for no one but Belle, and then there was the terrible episode with the pepper jelly, and then she had become engaged. And she thought that was it – for she was thrilled with Mr. Twist as a fiancé! She’s getting everything she’s ever wanted – a husband, a family, a position in society, a home to tend – and it doesn’t matter if Rainsford Sneed doesn’t want to be a part of it, for she doesn’t want him there anyway! So there! 

But the thing is that she rather does want him there – quite a bit more than she wants Mr. Twist there, which is terribly wicked, she thinks. She must stop. And Sneed keeps hanging around – which she likes too much, but it all makes it very difficult. Especially since Mr. Twist has complicated things a bit by disappearing. 

“Because,” Sneed stammers a little bit. “Because I am a great friend of your family – you haven’t a brother – you need a – a champion, I think. And Mr. Twist has been most inconsiderate, if you will permit me to be so bold. To disappear and leave a lady in the lurch! It’s not done.” 

“Oh,” she says, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. This is very nice of him. A champion! How romantic. How thrilling! But – a brother? That’s a disappointment, really. “Well. Thank you, Rainsford. That’s very gallant of you.” 

“It’s the least I can do,” He says, nodding, looking very important. Belle says he looks pompous when he does this, but Fanny quite disagrees – she thinks he looks very impressive and important like this. For he is impressive and important, she thinks, and so of course he looks it. 

“What do you…” she trails off, looking down at her hands. “What do you think happened to Mr. Twist? Why haven’t I heard a word from him?” 

“Because he is a cad,” Sneed says, more hotly than she expected, and she looks up to meet his eye. “Either he has been grievously injured and is incapable of communicating, or he has simply abdicated his status as a gentleman by completely jilting a lady of good standing and fine breeding.” 

“Oh…” she says, her heart beating curiously fast. “Do you think I’ve been jilted, then?” 

Somehow, this hasn’t really occurred to her. Perhaps it ought to have occurred to her, she thinks, frowning. But Mr. Twist simply hadn’t seemed like the kind of man who would jilt a girl. He seemed rather jolly and simple – and she doesn’t mean it in an unkind way, for she thinks she is simple, sometimes. He had seemed a kindred spirit, in that he was exactly as he presented himself. 

“Perhaps…” Sneed looks embarrassed, and clears his throat. “Only I confess I cannot see another explanation for it, unless the man has died. Or is in hospital somewhere remote, with no writing paper. Or has somehow lost his memory.” 

“Oh!” Fanny exclaims, her mind immediately going into overdrive. “Perhaps he’s been kidnapped by pirates! And is being held against his will!” 

“Who would kidnap him?” Sneed asks, sounding disgruntled. “Who’d want him around?” 

“Or…” Fanny frowns, thinking. “Perhaps he’s been hit over the head and doesn’t know who he is. Oh, my poor Mr. Twist!”

“I suppose it’s possible…” Sneed allows, looking unconvinced. “Although I admit I think the odds are slim.” 

“It is because you are not a romantic,” she tells him, a little huffily. 

The carriage bumps to a stop, and Fanny descends as soon as she can. “Come on,” she calls back to Sneed, bossily. “We’ve got a schedule to keep.” 

***

NORBERT FAGIN

It’s quite a good day, Fagin muses to himself, swallowing a mouthful of lukewarm ale, stretched out on a bench at the Cat & Bagpipes.  Every day has been quite a good day, since he obtained his pardon. It’s really quite miraculous, all things considered, but Fagin knew he’d come out on top, somehow, someway, in the end. He’s always had a knack for wriggling out of tight corners.

And speaking of tight corners and wriggling out of them – things have improved greatly since the Dodger’s release from prison – and then good ol’ Dodge had actually married that fancy skirt of his – well, Fagin can’t help but laugh. The Artful Dodger married to Lady Cheekbones! Fagin wishes he could share the news all over the East End. 

As though he’s summoned her by thinking this, he thinks he sees Lady Cheekbones’ sister barrelling through the pub, headed straight towards him. He squints, not believing his own eyes, but it is her alright – what had he called her? Lady Ringlets, that’s it. 

“Lady Ringlets!” He toasts her arrival genially. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”  That whey-faced man from the hospital is jogging after her, and comes to a halt beside her, giving Fagin a disapproving look as he does she.  “And you,” Fagin nods, unable to recall the uptight man’s name. “No pleasure, o’ course, beggin’ your pardon.” 

“Likewise,” the man says, stiffly. 

“Siddown,” Fagin nods at Lady Ringlets. “Consider yourself at home.” 

“Thank you,” Lady Ringlets says prettily, and sits. She glances up at her companion and says, “Sneed, you must sit – it’s very rude to ignore an invitation.” 

The man – Sneed, that’s it, Fagin knew it was some sort of unpleasant sound – sits, managing to look even more like he has a poker up his bum than Fagin’d thought possible. 

“Hello, Mr. Fagin,” Lady Ringlets says. “Or, shall I call you Uncle Fagin, now?!” Her whole face lights up at the thought of this, clasping her hands together. “How jolly – it’s been so long since I’ve had any uncles around.” 

He laughs, charmed by this. “‘Oo must call me whatever ‘oo think is proper. Uncle Fagin ‘as a very nice ring, if I do say so meself –” 

Sneed snorts, which is a most unattractive sound. He thinks Lady Ringlets might elbow him under the table. 

“It’s quite familiar,” Sneed mutters to her. 

“But he’s Jack’s uncle,” she tells him, “and Jack is like my brother now, so shouldn’t his uncle be my uncle?”

“Mos’ intelligently reasoned, if I do say so meself,” Fagin nods, enjoying the way this toff seems to turn purple at the thought. “I always said ‘oo was a lady of intelligence and judgement.” 

“Well, I shall call you Uncle Fagin, for now, I think,” Lady Ringlets says, giving him a winning smile. She’s sweet, he thinks. 

“Charmed, I’m sure,” he says, giving her a funny little-half bow, which is harder to pull off when seated than you’d think. “Now, I s’pect this is no mere social call, hmm?” 

“Well,” she says, inclining her head. “You’ve thought correctly. You see, we’ve come on a quest.” 

Another quest, he thinks, chuckling to himself. “‘Oo seem to like quests, my lady.” 

“Well,” she frowns, considering. “When a quest presents itself, I rather think one must heed the call.”  Next to her, Sneed makes a disbelieving sound in his throat, but stays quiet.  “We’ve come about Mr. Twist. Mr. Oliver Twist. Do you know him?”

“Do I know Oliver Twist?” Fagin exclaims, slapping his hand down on the table in excitement. “Are you taking the mick?”

“Er,” she says, frowning. “I don’t…I don’t know.” 

“Really!” Sneed exclaims. “Be polite, man.” 

“Coulda’ said somefink ruder, I could,” Fagin tells Sneed, matching his sniffy tone. “But to answer the question, milady, I’ve known that wet lettuce since ‘ee was about this high.” Fagin holds a hand up to indicate that he’s known Oliver since he was a small boy. 

“Oh good!” Lady Ringlets exclaims, sounding delighted. “For – I do not know if you recall – he and I were meant to be engaged, only…he’s rather…vanished.” 

Fagin regards both of them with great interest. First of all, he thinks it’s quite interesting that Lady Ringlets is engaged to Oliver Twist, for this Sneed man is clearly sweet on her. And unless he’s entirely lost his ability to understand the fairer sex, Fagin thinks those feelings might just be returned. 

Besides, he thinks, Lady Ringlets can do a damn sight better than that wet lettuce, even if what she ends up with is the silly, stuffy Sneed. 

“Oh!” Fagin says, surveying them. “And what do you say to that, Mr. Sneed?” 

“It’s Dr. Sneed, actually,” Sneed says in a humourless voice. 

“Dr. Sneed, beggin’ your pardon, your doctorship,” Fagin tells him, in his oiliest tone of ingratiation. 

The man harrumphs, accepting this apology. “What do I say to what, man?” 

“To Lady Ringlets here marrying Mr. Twist?” 

“I don’t say…” Sneed looks taken aback. “I don’t say anything. It’s not my place. Only I don’t think it’s right of him to have disappeared on Lady Fanny.”

“But he may have been kidnapped,” Lady Ringlets tells him, earnestly. “You must remember that.” 

“See here,” Sneed says, turning red, looking at her intently. “He has not been kidnapped, Lady Fanny! You are letting your imagination run away with you! He has not been kidnapped – he has not been taken by pirates – he has not lost his memory.  He is a cad who has dropped you! I wish you would not make excuses for him.” 

Lady Ringlets looks outraged and hurt. “There’s no need to speak to me so harshly!” She gets to her feet, quite upset, sounding as though she’s holding back tears. “I think it’s most unfeeling of you! I knew you didn’t have a romantic bone in your body!” 

With that, she turns on her heel, and runs out of the pub. Sneed makes to follow her – his trouser leg has become caught on the leg of the bench, and he’s detained for a moment as he tries to detangle himself. 

“Jus’ a mo’,” Fagin says, leaning into the man. “Hold on a smidge.” 

Sneed gives him a look of disgusted annoyance. “I must follow her.” 

“O’course ‘oo must,” Fagin laughs, seizing the man’s wrist to ensure he stays put. “On’y I think ‘oo oughta listen to what I got to say, first.” 

“Unhand me!” Sneed begins to wriggle his wrist, looking outraged. 

“Shut yer trap,” Fagin says, leaning in. “Now, on the matter of Mr. Twist – alls ‘oo need to know is that he’s gone, hear me? He won’t be comin’ back. Nuffink like that. He’s gone where none can follow ‘im, and he won’t be comin’ back to marry Lady Ringlets.”

Sneed gapes at him. “Do you mean – do you mean you had something to do–”

“I don’t mean nuffink o’ the sort, nor did I say it, did I?” Fagin says, sharply, giving Sneed a warning look. “And ‘oo best not imagine I said anything but that. Alls I said is that ‘ee won’t be comin’ back. So you’ll have to think of somethin’ to say to Lady Ringlets about ‘is whereabouts so she stops lookin’.” 

“See here,” Sneed says, huffily. “If you hurt Lady Fanny, you shall have to answer to me! And I am a crack shot with a pistol, do you hear, man?” 

Fagin grins, in spite of himself. “I ain’t gonna do nuffink to Lady Ringlets – I like ‘er, and ‘er sister. Lady Ringlets is a proper lady. Never been nuffink but kind to me, she has.” 

“Good…” Sneed says, awkwardly. “But mark my words, if you do –”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fagin waves a hand at him. “I’ll have to answer to you. Shakin’ in me boots, I’m sure. But listen here –” Fagin leans closer. “She’s sweet on you, and her fiancé tain’t never comin’ back.” 

“Ex–excuse me?” Sneed stares at him in shock and interest. 

“‘Oo heard me,” Fagin nods, not having time for this toff nonsense of pretending you didn’t hear something. “Loud and clear, b’cos you’re sweet on ‘er, too, ain’t you?” 

Sneed turns redder. “I – I – “

“Listen,” Fagin tugs on his wrist. “You’re a great wet lump of a man, s’far as I can tell. But I like Lady Ringlets, and she likes ‘oo. And Mr. Twist is gone. So you’d better go after her, eh?” 

He releases Sneed’s wrist – Sneed starts in shock, and hurries to his feet. He opens and shuts his mouth, as though he cannot decide whether he should say something or not. 

“Go on,” Fagin gestures, containing his laughter. “I ain’t gonna help ‘oo again.” 

Sneed makes a bobbing sort of nod, and then bolts for the door. Yes, thinks Fagin. It's been a good day. 

Chapter Text

THE LUCK OF RAINSFORD SNEED

LADY FANNY FOX

“I say, come back here!” 

Fanny can hear Sneed chasing her out of the pub, but she doesn’t slow down. She doesn’t want to, she finds. She races to the carriage, clambers in, and then shuts herself in there, leaving him to rattle on the door. 

“Open this door!” He demands, looking far more peeved than she thinks he has a right to be. 

“No!” She shouts back. It’s quite fun to be disagreeable, she thinks. Belle had the right idea. Perhaps she should have started being disagreeable a long time ago. “I don’t want to!”

“What on earth is wrong with you?” He calls through the window, quite red. “I want to have a proper conversation.” 

“Fine,” she says, not sure why she’s relenting, and she releases the door, allowing him to enter the carriage. “But,” she says, once he’s inside, “I think you should apologize to me first.”

“For what?” He asks, sounding exasperated, settling himself next to her. “I still do not understand what has upset you so much.” 

She finds she cannot really explain what the problem is, exactly, except that she’s very upset, and she thinks he’s most unfeeling, and she really wishes he would be more romantic, and less concerned with practicalities all the time and – 

“I am sorry that I have upset you,” he says, frowning, leaning closer. “I am sorry that I have hurt your feelings, Lady Fanny. But truly, I do not – I do not understand what I’ve done.” 

“I wish you wouldn’t be quite so keen to believe Mr. Twist has simply abandoned me,” she says, pathetically, feeling quite sorry for herself. “He could have been abducted by pirates, you know. Or mercenaries, or buccaneers, or..." 

He gapes at her, looking at her like she’s mad (she gets this a lot). “I – really, Lady Fanny, you must know that’s quite unlikely."

“Oh, but me being jilted, that’s not unlikely, is it?” She tilts her chin up at him angrily as she says this. “That’s just to be expected.”

“That’s not – that’s not what I meant!” He says hotly, his cheeks turning pink. “Is that what you think I meant?” 

“It’s quite obvious that it’s what you meant,” she sniffs, still feeling hurt. “Do you deny it?” 

“Of course I deny it!” He exclaims, which is really quite thrilling, in a way Fanny daren’t examine. “I do not think any such thing – that you should be jilted or that such an outcome is expected – in fact, I find Mr. Twist’s behaviour deeply offensive! Downright revolting!” 

She finds she cannot speak – that her heart is hammering in her chest – how his eyes flash when he says these words! It’s really very thrilling. 

“It is because I find it so absurd that he would jilt you that I am so particularly angry about it!” Sneed finishes, slapping his thigh with impatience. “I only want you to see that there is not some fanciful, romantic explanation for the whole affair because I cannot stand to see you give the benefit of the doubt to such a man who has treated you so vilely!” Sneed looks at her very intensely, and Fanny is suddenly aware that he’s really quite close to her, even considering that they are shut in a carriage. “Because…because you deserve a damn sight better than that,” he says, a little lamely.

His face is very close to hers, and she simply reacts on instinct. It’s what Fanny does best – she listens to her gut. She’s going to kiss Rainsford Sneed – again.  She moves to press her mouth to his – but their foreheads bash together instead, making Fanny shriek in pain, and Sneed curse very rudely. 

“Ouch!” Fanny exclaims, massaging her forehead, looking at him in shock. She really feels quite ill-used. “Your head is tremendously heavy. All of that knowledge, I suppose.”  He just stares at her, as though he’s been struck dumb.  “Were you going to kiss me?” Fanny asks, feeling very bold, suddenly realizing that he’d been leaning in at the same time as she was. “Well?”

He stammers, the blush from his cheeks creeping down his neck. And then he does something that shocks her more thoroughly than she could ever have imagined.

RAINSFORD SNEED

“Lady Fanny,” he says, taking her hand. “Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?” 

“Oh!” She exclaims, turning very red. “Oh – I – I –” 

She does not answer right away, which makes him feel nauseous.  A strange, determined look steals onto her face, as she asks, resolutely, “Would you marry the family dog? Or Father? I must know!” 

“I – er – what?” Sneed nearly falls over in his seat, so great is his shock at this response. “What?” 

“I meant exactly what I said.”

This does not clarify things at all, Sneed thinks, completely lost. “I would not marry a dog – any dog – or your Father. Obviously!” He exclaims.

She gives him a long, strange look, and he is beginning to doubt Belle’s claim that Lady Fanny is sweet on him. Damn woman, what had she been thinking? What had he been thinking, trusting her? This is a disaster, a goddamned – 

“Yes, I will marry you,” she says, firmly. “Yes.” 

“Ex–excellent,” He stammers, his heart racing. “Lady Fanny, I am beyond words. Thrilled! Flattered! I am –” 

“Only,” Fanny interrupts him, clearly not listening. “You must promise me you are not in love with Belle.” 

“I am definitely not in love with Lady Belle,” Sneed snorts. “You were right, really. We are most unsuited to each other.” He feels a rush of affection for Fanny and her judgement as he says these words. This was the right decision.

“Obviously,” Fanny nods, but she looks mollified. “You must swear it, though. On the life of our firstborn child!” She adds, dramatically. 

Sneed feels it is a good sign that she has said our firstborn child and not his firstborn child. “I swear it. I swear I am not in love with Lady Belle.”

“Good,” Fanny nods, looking pleased. “Then yes, I will marry you.” 

“Good,” he says, which is a bit of a stupid response, but he feels a little bit stupid right now – the way her eyes are shining at him, and the way her cheeks are such a delicate shade of pink, and her mouth is parting a tiny bit. 

“Aren’t you going to kiss me?” Fanny asks – and if she’s trying for demure or coy, she misses the mark – for she’s all Fanny, right now – blunt and curious, somehow dreamy and practical all at once. 

Of course he’s going to kiss her, he thinks. Who wouldn’t want to kiss a woman like this?  He takes her hands, gently, nervously, and pulls her a little closer to him. He is trying to figure out the most gentlemanly way to do this, when – to his great surprise – Fanny seizes him by the collar, and pulls him in.  She plants her lips on his – rather awkwardly, and more than a little forcefully – making him start in surprise. 

“Oh!” She exclaims. “I’m sorry – is this – is this like the time with the pepper jelly? Have I done something wrong?’ 

“No,” he says, and he is surprised to hear how warm and relaxed his own voice sounds – how warm and relaxed she seems to have made him. “No,” he repeats, laughing. “I appreciate the enthusiasm, Lady Fanny – only – let me…” 

He trails off, growing shy again, and he slides a hand up to her pretty cheek. She looks so beautiful, he thinks, his heart feeling almost painfully happy in a way that does not seem medical – how did he miss this before? How had he missed her bright, inquisitive eyes, and her kind heart, and her strangely sharp mind? How had he been so blind? He pulls her in, gently, and kisses her like she’s made of glass. He kisses her exactly the way a man of his station is meant to kiss a lady of her station after she’s accepted his marriage proposal. 

Only Lady Fanny doesn’t seem to know about all that. For one second, she is sighing prettily against his mouth, reacting to his chaste kiss, and the next second, she is kissing him almost – is ferociously the right word?

He quite likes it, he finds, kissing her back with great enthusiasm, tangling a hand in her hair, and pulling her scandalously close to him. She slides her hand around his neck, and deepens the kiss, and he’s so shocked he can scarcely breathe – but he doesn’t need to breathe, he thinks, deliriously. He just needs to keep on kissing her. 

Fortunately, she seems to agree.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: CONSIDER YOURSELF ONE OF US

LADY BELLE DAWKINS

“She’s going to know,” Jack tells Belle, mumbling into her shoulder, that night, as they are on the edge of sleep. 

“Who?” 

“Your mother,” he says, sounding like this is very obvious. “She’s going to know we lied.”

She wriggles around in his arms to face him. “That I am not pregnant?”

“Yes,” he says, raising his eyebrows. “You are meant to be, what? 3 months along, now?”

He runs a hand over her stomach, which is as flat as ever. “You’ve not gained any weight. And soon it will be beyond denying, my love.”

She sighs. “I could just gain a lot of weight.”

“And then what?” Jack smirks at her fondly. “There would still be no baby.”

“You could always change that,” she says, smiling, pressing her lips to his softly. “Hmm?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head, impatiently. “You know I won’t risk that. The strain on your heart.”

To Belle’s consternation, Jack had originally refused to make love to her after their wedding, worrying about the strain on her heart. She had made a concerted effort to show him that this wouldn’t do at all, and he’d readily caved in mere days (the memory of this makes her smirk at how easily he’d been worn down).

But Jack still worried about the impact a pregnancy might have on her heart, and so they had taken it upon themselves to calculate her cycle, so as to avoid pregnancy.

“I have ordered something,” she tells him, smiling. “From London. A contraceptive device.”

“I already have a sheath,” he says, confused. “You hate it, if you recall…”

“As if you don’t hate it as well,” she laughs. “But it’s different — it’s a womb veil. Its a sort of…cap for the cervix, and neither party can sense its presence. But it’s considered very effective at preventing pregnancy.”

“Really?” He arches his eyebrows in interest. “Did you read about it in the Lancet?”

“No,” she says, blushing. “They don’t write about such things in there, you know.”

“Such things…like how to enjoy sex with your husband for reasons other than procreation?” He kisses her neck, making her gasp. “No, I can’t imagine that being in one of your respectable medical journals.”

“I made discrete inquiries of a married friend,” Belle says, breathlessly. “If you must know. I didn’t want to have to…avoid intimacy at certain times of the month.”

“You’re very inventive,” he says, voice full of admiration — and a little bit of laughter. “And really very improper.”

“Well, now that I’ve married beneath myself…” Belle jokes, making him laugh. “But I may conduct my own experiments with the device, you know. Perhaps there will be an audience for that sort of thing, one day. Maybe we could import them and provide them to other women in Port Victory — a women’s clinic or something. It could be a marvellous thing, for unwanted children lead to so many problems, for the women themselves and for the children who grow up in poverty.”

“You are quite extraordinary,” he tells her, and then gives his full attention over to showing her just how extraordinary he thinks she is.

Some time later, Jack kisses her forehead and says, “but if your device is to prevent pregnancy, Belle, that won’t solve your problem of not being pregnant…”

“Only because you refuse to take that risk,” she tells him, smiling fondly.

 It is not necessarily that she wants to have a child quite yet — she feels ambivalent about the idea, in truth. She’s always imagined she would have children, for that is what you do when you are married, but she rather wants to enjoy this time with Jack. Not to mention that she wants to focus on her medical studies right now. There will be time for children later, she thinks. Once she feels like slowing down, and once Jack has stopped worrying about her heart at every second of the day. 

“I think I am rather skilled at escalating your heart rate, darling,” he tells her, kissing her. “And you demand I do it so frequently…I daren’t increase the risk by getting you with child.”

She laughs. “You say that as though you don’t enjoy escalating my heart rate every bit as much as I do.”

“I said no such thing,” he tells her, eyes shining with love. “But what will we do, my love, when your mother realizes the truth?”

“Why do you insist on bringing up my mother when we have just made love?” she groans. “I don’t think other newlyweds do this.”

“We aren’t like other couples,” he laughs, and then looks serious. “But truly, Belle. I don’t wish for your mother to have me — imprisoned or murdered or dismembered. And I rather think her capable of all three.”

Belle rolls her eyes. “None of that will happen now. You’re the governor’s son-in-law, Jack!”

He gives her a skeptical look. “Without you being pregnant, I fear I’m nothing but the blackguard who seduced the governor’s daughter.”

She is about to make another joke when she realizes — from the nervous, tentative look on his dear face — that he is quite serious. That the fear of this sort of treatment — of imprisonment, capital punishment, recrimination — is very real for him, in a way she will probably never understand. 

“There’s nothing they can do,” she tells him softly, running a hand across his cheek. “You’re my husband. We’ve consummated the marriage.”

“Ah, is that why you were so insistent, then?” Jack smirks at her, but his eyes are still worried. 

“Let it never be said I am not strategic,” she says, a little smug. 

“Wanton, strategic…” he says, pretending to weigh them. “Both, I think.”

She gives him a playful shove. “Watch it. You’re describing your wife.”

“I know,” he says, grinning at her like a lovestruck fool. “I know.”

“Well,” Belle returns to the matter at hand very practically. “They can’t separate us. They cannot annul the marriage. You have done nothing wrong. Rainsford will just have to tell mother I’ve miscarried.” 

“He won’t like that,” Jack says, making a face. “Do you mean to say that we must once more place our fate in the hands of Sneed?” His voice is disdainful and a little disbelieving.

“I think he can handle it,” she says, smiling a little. “He pulled it off before.”

“And how I shall never understand,” Jack says, shaking his head in disbelief. “I think you must be a miracle-worker.”

“He and I have come to an understanding,” Belle says, smiling with fondness — for Sneed, how bizarre. “And I intend to help him with something for which he will feel most indebted to me.”

Jack raised his eyebrows at her. 

“I’ll tell you in time,” she says, cryptically. “I don’t want to jinx it.”

Jack makes a disbelieving face, and then laughs. “You and Sneed, united in a secret mission?” He smirks. “Ought I to be jealous?”

“Never,” she exclaims. “As you know full well.”

“Obviously,” he kisses her again. “I just like winding you up.”

***

Belle is more than a little shocked – but quite delighted, really, when Fanny calls on her the next morning to tell her about the engagement. This is right, Belle thinks, looking at her sister’s thrilled face, her sister’s broad smile, her sister’s ebullient joy spilling out like light through cracks in a wall. 

It is only later, when Fanny has taken her leave, that Belle realizes this will make Jack and Sneed brothers-in-law, and the thought makes her laugh as much as it makes her cringe. Jack won’t enjoy this development much, she thinks, suppressing a smile. 

***

LADY FANNY FOX

In order to compensate for the disaster that was Belle and Jack’s wedding, Fanny and Sneed’s wedding is to be a rather grand affair. The date is set for 5 months hence, and Fanny is to have the most wonderful dress from a London dressmaker – or at least from a pattern from a London dressmaker, once she had realized how long getting the dress from London would actually take. 

For she finds she is quite eager to be married.

In the end, the dress is made by a Sydney dressmaker, and it will be finished by the local dressmaker in Port Victory. It is worth it, to make such concessions for fashion, if it means she can get married sooner, she thinks, blushing to herself at the thought. 

***

LADY BELLE DAWKINS

“Belle,” Fanny says, for the umpteenth time this month. “What do you think the best part of being married is?” 

Belle looks at her sister, who seems to have taken up near-permanent residence in her sitting room. “Not living with Mother and Father and you,” she tells her sister, grinning. “Not having anyone tell me what to do.”

“Oh – but surely Jack –” Fanny frowns, and then falls silent. “No, I don’t think he does,” she says, reaching this conclusion on her own.

“He does, sometimes,” Belle giggles. “Or he tries, at least. Sometimes I let him think he succeeds.” 

Fanny looks at her admiringly. “But – but surely there are other parts of being married that are more…romantic than that.” 

Belle laughs at this. “Fanny, just come out and say whatever it is you want to ask. You have already asked me about sexual congress a scandalous number of times.” 

Fanny blushes a little but remains resolute. “I think it is perfectly reasonable to want to know what to expect.” 

“Yes,” Belle concedes, looking embarrassed. “But some things are too intimate, even for sisters.” 

Fanny makes a face. “I don’t mean – I know that is not all there is to marriage.” 

“It is rather a large part of it, so far,” Belle says, surprising them both. “Oh gosh – I just – I don’t know where that came from.”

Fanny goggles at her. “Tell me m–”

“No!” Belle covers her face in her hands. “I cannot. I will not. You will see soon enough. Even if it’s with…Sneed.” Belle makes a face. 

“I think Sneedy is perfectly lovely,” Fanny says, giving her a reproachful look. “To me he is perfectly wonderful.” 

“I am very glad for you,” Belle says, taking her sister’s hand, and giving it an encouraging squeeze. “And I am very glad for me that it is not me.” 

Fanny laughs at this. “Don’t even think about it,” she says, giving her a sister a mock-threatening look.

Belle laughs. 

Fanny has tried to wedge herself onto the settee alongside Belle – Belle is still meant to be resting – taking it easy, as Jack put it – but Belle and taking it easy don’t really go hand in hand.  On weekends, when Jack insists Belle has no acceptable reason to be on her feet at the hospital, she is meant to be lounging at home, and it is very, very difficult. 

“I suppose it is very nice to just…live with Jack,” Belle tells her sister then, trying not to blush. 

Fanny – who is always an excellent audience for this sort of thing – turns to her with shining eyes, and puts her chin in her hands, listening raptly. 

“It is just – it is nice to just…be together. Without worrying that it is improper, or that someone will come in and chastise us, or that time is running out. To sit by the fire and talk about the day. To fall asleep with him, and wake up with him, and to be the first person to talk to him in the morning.” Belle smiles like the newlywed she is. “I just – he’s my favourite person to talk to, Fan. He’s the person I want to tell all my news to, and the person whose opinion I want on anything I read or see or think. And there’s no limit to any of that now.” 

“Oh, you are so in love with him!” Fanny squeals. “This is a fairytale.” 

“Well, that was the idea behind the plan you concocted,” Belle admits. “That I was too in love with him for us to end up anything but wed.” 

“I knew it,” Fanny says, giddy. “I knew you’d get your happy ending.” 

“Do you – do you feel that way about Sneed?” The second she says this, Belle rather worries Fanny’s disarming habit for asking detailed questions will translate into Fanny revealing more information about Sneed than Belle wants to know. 

“I think – I think I do…” Fanny says, as though this revelation surprises her. “Or, at least – whenever something is happening, I always think it would be better if he was there too. Or almost like I think he ought to be there, like he belongs there, and if he’s not there, I wonder where he is, and when he will arrive.” 

Belle jostles her sister’s foot with hers, affectionately. “You love Sneed! You love Sneed!” She exclaims, as though they are children. “Fanny loves Sneed!”

Fanny blushes prettily. “I do, Belle. I really do. And not in the way I used to think I was in love with Sneed – when I was really in love with the idea of him. Now I’ve actually gotten to know the real Sneed –”

“And somehow – miraculously – this has made you actually love him,” Belle exclaims, laughing again. “This is a sign it’s true love, Fan.” 

“I don’t know if he loves me, though,” Fanny says, in an uncharacteristically small voice. 

“What?” Belle looks at her sister sharply. “Why?” 

“Well,” Fanny looks at her hands, which are twisting in her lap. “He’s never said it. I did ask him to promise me he wasn’t in love with you, though, which he did.” 

“What?” Belle exclaims, sounding outraged. 

“He cannot remain endlessly in love with you, Belly, it’s not fair. Not when you’re married and he’s going to be married to me.” 

“No, no,” Belle shakes her head, impatiently. “That’s not – Fanny, don’t be daft. I said it in response to you saying he hasn’t told you he loves you!” 

“Oh,” Fanny says, and then she shrugs a little bit. “I expect he doesn’t, quite yet. But it will come, I’m sure.” 

Belle stares at her sister, feeling very sad and shocked by this. “Have you told him you love him?” She asks. 

“No!” Fanny exclaims, sounding scandalized. “I shan’t be the one to say it first!” 

Belle sighs. This calls for a scheme, she thinks. Or at least a plan. 

***

DR JACK DAWKINS

Jack arrives home at the end of a long day, feeling like he’ll never be able to scrub away the scent of that damned hospital. 

“Hello, my love,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of Belle’s head before he seems to notice Fanny – which only occurs because she squeals at the way he greets Belle. 

“Uh, hello, Fanny – Lady Fanny,” Jack hurries to say, feeling discombobulated. 

“Jack,” Belle says, glancing up at her husband from where she is resting on the settee. “I want your opinion.” 

“Of course,” Jack says, in a warm voice, sinking into the armchair by the fire. “I am always happy to hear your theories.” 

“As you know, Fanny and Sneed are to be wed in two weeks,” Belle says, her voice fierce. “And yet Fanny tells me Sneed has not told her he loves her!” 

“Is this – is this, er, the – the matter that you wanted my opinion on?” Jack asks, disbelievingly. “Not – not something you read in the Lancet? Or something involving, I don’t know, spraying people with — with poisons, or something, as some way of curing – I don’t know, blindness? Surely you have some mad new theory to test?”

“Yes,” Belle says, nodding, as Fanny blushes. “You are a man, and Sneed is a man, and you must shed light on this strange situation.” 

“I – er, uh, I – well,” Jack runs a hand through his hair – the way Fanny is staring at him in keen interest is quite unsettling. “I suppose we are both men…” 

He wants to make a jibe about how no-one with such an extensive collection of monogrammed handkerchiefs can really be called a man, but he thinks that might offend Fanny, and he rather owes her a lot, he thinks. 

“Belle,” Fanny says, in an undertone. “It is not necessary. I told you – he will not love me yet, but he will, once we’re wed. I’m sure of it. It will come. It will grow.” 

“What do you think?” Belle asks her husband. “Does Sneed love Fanny?” 

“Oh – I – I couldn’t say,” Jack stammers, unsure. “I’m sure it’s far too personal a matter for me to speak to Lady Fanny about.” 

Belle snorts. “You’re as good as her brother now, Jack. It’s perfectly fine.”

“Oh!” Fanny claps her hands together, and looks at Jack with a glowing expression – and, as always, when she does this, she reminds him of a deranged version of Belle – which always makes him feel really quite fond of her.. “A brother! I’ve never had a brother. I’ve always wanted one. How nice.” 

Jack accepts Fanny’s outstretched hand, slightly reluctantly, staring between the sisters. 

“I – er – well, Sneed…” Jack clears his throat. He does not feel a particular interest in the heart of Rainsford Sneed, nor does he want to weigh in on any of this, but he doesn’t know that he has a choice.

“Yes?” Both sisters ask at once. 

Jack sighs, and rubs his face. “How should I know what Sneed in love looks like?” He peers between his fingers at his wife and her sister. “Sneed is completely different from me in every way.”

“No,” Fanny says, shaking her head. “Belle is right. You are both men.”

“Yes, but he is a lily-livered quivering pudding of a man, and I am not,” Jack says, hotly, and then gives Fanny an apologetic look. “Sorry, Fanny.” 

“He is a little puddingish, isn’t he?” A dreamy look slides over Fanny’s face  – Jack and Belle exchange an incredulous, amused expression. 

“I think,” Belle says, her voice taking on a determined note that often spells danger to Jack, “I think that he does love Fanny, he just is too afraid to say it.” 

“Well, you’ll get no fight from me in calling him a coward,” Jack says, crossing his arms. 

Fanny gives him a cross look, to his surprise. “You oughtn’t to say that, Jack – call him a coward, I mean. You know he was very brave in our plan to have you and Belle wed. He lied to mother and father about Belle’s pregnancy. Nothing would have been achieved without that. He was very brave in his own way.” 

Jack is rather struck-dumb by Fanny’s remonstration, and this is the reason he later gives when he looks back on the whole absurd affair, as to why he got involved in it. 

“All right,” Jack says, stiffly. “But only because you’re like my sister now…” 

He doesn’t want to be silly – to be too emotional – to let his feelings show – being a hardened criminal by the age of 12 will do that to a fellow. But here goes Lady Fanny, once more, managing to disarm him all over again. She’s an emotional pickpocket he thinks, stifling a laugh. 

“A sister!” Fanny throws her arms around him. “Thank you, Jack!”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: I, FANNY

DR. JACK DAWKINS

Jack pulls Sneed into his office, three days before the wedding. 

“Unbelievable,” Sneed bleats, brushing his jacket off, as though Jack’s hands are covered in some foul substance (in all honesty, they often are). “What now?” 

“Look,” Jack says, feeling like an idiot. “I need to talk to you about Fanny.” 

“Lady Fanny,” Dr. Sneed corrects, instantly, and then gapes at Jack, once he’s finally digested what he’s heard. “Lady Fanny? Why?” He narrows his eyes at him. “I am not going to be talked out of this, Dawkins – not only would it be the height of dishonour, but you know that the only reason I listened to Lady Belle’s insane scheme was so that I might become the next governor and –” 

“Shut up, will you?” Jack says, flopping into the chair behind his desk. He rummages around in the drawer, looking for the bottle of whisky he knows is in here. “Drink?” He asks Sneed. 

“No,” Sneed says, pursing his lips, and refusing to sit. “I shan’t be long in here.” 

“Suit yourself,” Jack tells him, tossing his own back. He takes a deep breath. “Look, I need to know whether you love F – Lady Fanny.” 

“Excuse me?” Sneed looks horrified, as though Jack has asked him something incredibly foul or terribly personal. “I beg your pardon?”

Jack massages his temples, feeling exhausted already. “I’m not supposed to say this part –” Jack’s not used to ferrying messages like this back and forth and he can barely keep his own affairs straight, not to mention the business of running the hospital. “But I only ask because Lady Fanny isn’t sure.” 

“I – what?” 

Jack sighs again, and tops his drink up. “Fanny loves you, but she doesn’t know if you love her, and Belle has told me to find out if you love Fanny.”

Sneed continues to gape at him. Jack pours Sneed a drink, thinking he might need one, and he’s quite right – Sneed starts to gulp the drink down. 

“I –” Sneed begins again, turning very red. 

“Look,” Jack says, hurriedly. “It’s none of my business. Only,” he pauses, feeling like it would be churlish not to say something of the sort. “Only Fanny’s a good egg, and she deserves to be happy. If she loves you –” Jack pauses, making a face to indicate that Lady Fanny might be as insane as everyone thinks, “If she loves you, and she’s marrying you, I expect you to make her very happy. She deserves it.” 

And, he thinks, privately, that he’s not about to continue on as some sort of go-between – and if Fanny endures any kind of marital strife, he thinks Belle will insist upon it. What’s worse is that Belle might settle the score with Sneed herself, and the last thing he wants is his wife’s head in a noose. 

Sneed stops, mid-drink. “Are you – is this the – the elder brother speech?” 

Jack laughs, quite awkwardly. “I – perhaps. Wouldn’t you prefer I give it, and not Belle?” 

Sneed laughs at this, choking on his whisky, and Jack has to thump him on the back quite hard. “Yes – yes, you’re quite right,” Sneed says, once he’s regained the ability to breathe. 

“Just…” Jack sighs, wanting this conversation over, thinking he much prefers autopsies to this, “Just, if you love her – please tell her, for my sake, at least. And if you don’t…” Jack frowns, feeling like poor Fanny shouldn’t marry a man who doesn’t love her. “Well, you should, I think.” 

Sneed nods, solemnly, and Jack fights the urge to laugh. He cannot believe what his life has become in a few short months, he thinks – if anyone told him any of this would happen, back when he met Lady Belle – well, he’d’ve signed their asylum commitment papers himself. 

***

DR. RAINSFORD SNEED

After his mortifying conversation with Dawkins – really, the man has no manners at all, he thinks, outraged – Sneed paces around his office, in silent conversation with himself. 

He has discovered that not only is he insane, but he’s in love with an insane woman, which might be double evidence of his own insanity. He loves Fanny Fox – who could have ever predicted such a thing? – and the worst part is that he’s afraid she doesn’t reciprocate.  Well, he counsels himself, after much pacing – the fact that Dawkins was sent to make enquiries (mortifying) must indicate that she does, he decides, or why would she care. 

He paces the office, reflecting on the matter, feeling like it ought not to be such a very big deal to confess to loving one’s fiancée. But somehow, he thinks, it is. Somehow, he thinks, he’s never told anyone he loved them, not really – not merely women, but family members too. It’s just not the way he was brought up. 

And suddenly it feels like a tremendously big deal. 

He cannot do it, he thinks, his throat dry. He will wait until after the wedding. He will wait until there is no chance of losing her.

Because he simply couldn’t bear it. 

***

LADY FANNY FOX

By the time the wedding rolls around, Fanny is giddy with excitement. Even Belle, she thinks, is secretly enjoying herself, even if Belle will never admit it to anyone for all the money in the world.

Her parents are thrilled with the match – all of the most important people in the colony (there are not many, admittedly) are invited. Everyone agrees it is a splendid thing indeed for Lady Fanny to marry Dr. Sneed – the grandson of a Baron! The brother of a future Baron! It would be good fortune for anyone, but everyone knows Fanny is a little – well, odd, and so it is doubly good news for her, apparently. 

“You are sure you want to do this?” Belle asks her, in an antechamber off the side of the church. “It’s not too late to bolt, you know.” 

Fanny gives her a strange look and laughs. “Of course I want to do this, you goose.” 

Belle looks nervous, but smiles as if in relief. “You promise?” She tucks an imaginary errant strand of hair behind Fanny's ear. 

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Fanny says, simply, and it’s quite true. “Besides – what’s come over you? I thought you liked Sneed.” 

“I do,” Belle insists, helping her sister smooth the skirts of her voluminous gown. “Well – I like him well enough. For you. Not for me,” She pauses to pull a face of horror, which makes Fanny swat her. “I just wanted to make sure it’s what you really want. Because if it isn’t, you needn’t do it. I’ll – I’ll run away with you, Fan, if that’s what you want.” 

Fanny laughs, because this is just so Belle. Fierce, determined, almost frightening – and perhaps a little bit naive. She knows people think she, Fanny, is the naive one, but in some ways Fanny thinks Belle is even more naive. 

“But what about poor Jack?” Fanny squeezes her sister’s hands, smiling. “You can’t bolt! He’d die of a broken heart.” 

“Oh, he can come too,” Belle says, reconsidering. “He’ll go anywhere I go, after all. He won’t be hard to convince.” Belle’s face takes on a dreamy, content expression that makes Fanny feel incredibly happy for her sister. 

“I promise it’s what I want,” Fanny says to her sister, smiling broadly now. “I feel like – like I’m on the preci – preci –” 

“Precipice,” Belle supplies, in that annoying, knowing way of hers.

“I would have gotten it eventually,” Fanny says, her voice rising in that way that always happens before a squabble – nothing like a sister to immediately turn one back in time. “You aren’t the only one who knows –”

“I was only trying to help,” Belle says, hotly, and Fanny is strangely comforted by this – her sister’s brash tone, the outraged expression on her face. Everything is going to change, after her marriage, Fanny knows, and yet, somehow, she thinks nothing will change. For she’ll be right here with her beloved sister, the same as always. 

“I know,” Fanny says, and the speed with which she relents obviously surprises Belle, who opens her mouth as if to retort, only to close it uselessly once she realizes no retort is needed. “I love you, you know?” 

“Of course I love you too,” Belle says briskly, sounding almost irritated. “And if Sneed does anything to you – if he is unkind to you, or if he’s – I don’t know,” Belle casts around, trying to think of something – a lifetime of privilege has thankfully made both of them very unfamiliar with all the specific and terrible ways husbands can disappoint one. “I don’t know, if he’s stingy with money, or if he doesn’t listen when you speak, or –” 

“He won’t be any of those things,” Fanny says, confidently. And she knows he won’t. 

“But if he is,” Belle insists, pink patches blooming on her cheeks, which often happens when she’s spoiling for a fight. “If he is, he’ll have to answer to me!”

“Belle,” Fanny says, squeezing her hands, “Please, I beg of you, do not say such things to him.” 

The idea of her sister cornering her fiancée and threatening such things is simultaneously very funny and completely mortifying. 

Belle presses her lips together in a thin line. “Well, he better not give me cause to say such things, then.” 

“If you do,” Fanny says, almost laughing, “I will box your ears.” 

“You wouldn’t!” Belle exclaims, her voice rising in indignation. “Remember when you–” 

“Are we ready?”  It is their father, beaming at his daughters. He isn’t ruffled by squabbling or bickering. One couldn’t live in the Fox household and be bothered by such things. 

“Yes,” Fanny says, smiling at him. “We are.” 

***

LADY BELLE DAWKINS

Lady Belle Dawkins watches her sister get married to the man who once tried to court her, and feels a strange swell of emotion that she’d prefer to deny.  She knows it’s just chemical – but this is her baby sister, she thinks, fighting back tears, and her baby sister is getting married, and she’s just – she’s just so happy.

“Could’ve been you up there,” Jack breathes in her ear, and she can feel the grin without needing to turn and look. “Having regrets?” 

She laughs, in spite of herself, and then stifles it, turning it into an aborted cough. “I’m not going to answer that, for you know the answer, and I don’t think teasing ought to be rewarded.” 

“So you do have regrets, then?” Jack’s whisper takes on a pained note. “God, if only I’d known –” 

“Shut up,” she hisses, poking a finger into his thigh surreptitiously. “You’ll make me laugh in front of everyone, and it’s not proper.” 

“I like you when you’re not proper,” He grins wolfishly at her, and she blushes, fighting the urge to grin. 

“It will upset Fanny,” she tells him, and he immediately adopts a serious expression. 

“Anything,” he says, solemnly, “for Lady Fanny.” 

His voice is half-serious, half-laughing, and she cannot explain why it makes her heart swell so much. More chemicals. More idiotic chemical reactions, she thinks, shaking her head. 

“Don’t tease,” Belle whispers, smiling. “For we owe her quite a lot.”

“I know!” Jack nods, his eyes wide and serious and somehow still smiling. “I wasn’t joking. She’s quite a force to be reckoned with. I’d never joke about such a formidable person. Fagin can’t stop talking about how brilliant he thinks she is. It’s a bit alarming, really.”

Belle opens her mouth to say something – she’s not sure she likes the idea of Fagin mulling over Fanny’s brilliance – but she’s distracted when the minister pronounces her sister and Dr. Sneed married.

“Thank God it’s not me,” she tells Jack, in an undertone, and he does laugh, then, making a few heads turn.

“I quite agree,” He murmurs, once he’s regained his composure. 

***

DR. RAINSFORD SNEED

It is only much later, when they are alone, that Sneed finally works up the courage to tell his wife the truth.

“I love you, you know?” he says. It is easier like this, to feel her head on his shoulder, to look up at the canopy of the bed, and not have to face her disarming gaze head on. 

“I know,” she says, in a dreamy, calm sort of voice. 

“You do?” He doesn’t know what kind of response he expects, but it’s not this one, somehow. She’s such a ball of energy he half expected her to sit bolt upright in bed and start chattering away at him a mile a minute. 

“Of course,” she says, tilting her head upwards. “For you showed it in your own way, darling.” 

She squeezes his hand, and he feels like bursting with happiness. He waits, in silence, listening to the sound of her breathing, waiting for her to reciprocate, but she doesn’t. After what feels like an eternity – it is about ten minutes, in reality, but he isn’t aware of that – he asks her, in a small voice, “I only hope that you may come to care for me, as I care for you – one day?” 

“Oh!” She does bolt upright then, clutching the sheet around her body, staring at him with wide eyes. “Of course I love you, Rainsford. Whyever would I have married you if I didn’t?” 

“You do?” He sits up now, feeling like his breath is embarrassingly shaky. “You – you really do?” 

“Of course!” Her laugh is as merry as a bell. “I just – I was waiting for you to tell me. First you loved Belle, and then I just wanted to be sure–” 

“I am sure,” he says, although that wasn’t the question. “Whatever I thought I felt for Belle – it’s nothing like this. You’re quite extraordinary, you know.” 

“I know,” she grins at him. “I was only waiting for you to see it.”

She is quite mad, he thinks, but he can’t stop himself kissing her, pulling her into his arms again. She might be mad, but she’s his wife, and he thinks she makes mad look quite wonderful. 

Chapter Text

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: PIP, PIP! CHEERIO!

SIX MONTHS LATER

LADY BELLE DAWKINS

“Isn’t it funny to think,” Fanny muses, dreamily. “Isn’t it funny to think how everything’s worked out?” She is busy addressing invitations for a benefit held in support of the hospital – for of course she, and not Belle, is organizing the benefit.

Belle is not complaining – she’s actually quite glad to use Fanny’s mania for planning and organizing in support of the hospital. She’s much too busy to worry about this, nor does she care about it - for under her husband's tutelage, Belle is finally training to become the colony's first female doctor (much to Dr. Sneed's horror, it must be said, but many things horrify Sneed, and Belle always maintains one cannot live one's life avoiding things that horrify Rainsford Sneed, or one would never do anything). 

“Look, doesn’t it look impressive?” Fanny holds the invitation out to her sister.

“Dr. Rainsford Sneed and Lady Frances Sneed,” Belle reads, and then glances at her sister. “Why on earth did you address one to yourself? You’re obviously coming.” 

“Look, I did one for you too.” Fanny shoves another one into her sister’s hand. 

“Dr. Jack Dawkins and Lady Belle Dawkins,” Belle reads, laughing a little. “You know we’re obviously coming as well, you goose.” 

Fanny shrugs. “It’s for posterity, Belly. It’s a keepsake! You can pass it down to your children, one day.”

“I am not going to hold onto crumbling bits of old invitations for my children,” Belle grumbles. “I have far more important things to do.” 

Fanny rolls her eyes at her sister. “You say that, but I bet you like reading your married name as much as I do.” 

Belle blushes, and looks down. “I shall neither confirm nor deny it, Fan.”

“You know I’m right!” Fanny squeals, and squeezes her sister’s arm. “Oh, I bet you hold onto it and show all your grandchildren one day…” 

Fanny seems to be lost in some romantic daydream (Belle is not entirely sure why showing one’s grandchildren an old invitation to a charity benefit is meant to be such an occasion), and Belle allows her a minute of this before shaking her sister. 

“Perhaps I shall.” Belle laughs. “I am not sure I am entirely prepared to think of children, just yet, let alone grandchildren.” 

The realization that she was not pregnant, about two months after Belle’s marriage to Jack, had not gone over well with her parents. Jack – and even Sneed, bless him – had assured her parents that Belle had miscarried, but Lady Jane had given them a poisonous look, which said she knew the truth all too well. But there was nothing that could be done about it, at that point, and things are gradually – very gradually – thawing between mother and daughter. Belle’s prepared to weather the storm, for the sake of the life she and Jack have managed to scrape together, against all odds. She thinks she will refrain from sharing her medical studies with her mother until this particular rift is well-mended, for she thinks it's not entirely fair to subject her mother to this news when she still has yet to recover from Belle's last outrageous indecency (as her mother had characterized the wedding to Jack).

Fanny gives her a curious look. “But how – how do you –” 

“There are ways to avoid it, Fanny…” Belle says, haltingly. “There are – devices, you know. And ways of…calculating things…I can explain it to you, if you want.” Belle turns pinker than she wants to. 

“Oh, I am no good at calculations, you know that.” Fanny flushes. “Besides…I think it may already be too late for that.” 

“Really?” Belle’s eyes grow wide as saucers, squeezing her sister’s arm. “Oh, Fanny, are you – are you excited? Are you glad?” 

“Of course I am glad!” Fanny exclaims. “I am going to be a mother, Belle.”

Belle giggles. “I cannot imagine you as a mother, Fan.” Or Rainsford Sneed as a father, Belle thinks, but does not say that. Fanny looks hurt, and Belle hurries to soothe her. “But you will rise to the occasion magnificently, of course.” 

“I know,” Fanny says, serenely, smiling. “I think I shall. I always do, in the end, you know.” 

*** 

Miss Arabella Jane Sneed arrives some 7 months after that – arriving in the world as red-faced and shrill as her father on a bad day, Jack says, after he delivers the baby (in a low enough undertone that neither of the new father or mother can hear). 

Miss Victoria Frances Sneed and Miss Lavinia Charlotte Sneed arrive in the following years. Finally, then, a succession of boys — Master Edmund James Sneed, Master William Rainsford Sneed, and Master Alastair John Sneed. And then a final girl, Miss Georgiana Mary Sneed.

To Fanny’s enormous relief, they do eventually have cousins with whom to play – a Master John Edmund Dawkins, a Miss Sarah Isabel Dawkins, a Miss Frances Jane Dawkins, and then a Master Charles William Dawkins. 

For their own parts, both Dr. Sneed and Dr. Dawkins find themselves living in households that are altogether noisier and happier than the ones in their childhood memories. The men do not speak of their lonely childhoods, of this commonality they share – this is not a fairy tale, after all – but they do get along together well enough, once they have to come accept the inevitability of the other one’s presence – for Fanny and Belle are forever invading one another’s homes, and then the children take up the mantle as soon as they are old enough. 

As Jack would say, many years later, he rather thinks they owe all of this happiness to Fanny – who could imagine such a thing, but he thinks it’s true. And then Sneed will snort and say, in that infuriating tone, “Dawkins, you are wrong again,” for he knows they owe all of this happiness to Fanny, he doesn’t merely think it. 

And then Jack will bite his tongue for the sake of family harmony, but also because he knows, of course, that Sneed is right. Jack would reflect, in later years, that he would never have believed himself capable of thinking such a thing -- life, it seems, is funny like that -- but that was, of course, before he met the Sisters Fox.