Chapter Text
The clock on the mantel chimed softly, a clear sound in the stillness of the drawing room at Skeldale House. The morning had begun, as many did, with the bleating of distant sheep and the rustle of wind through the hedgerows. But today, something in the air felt different.
Mrs Audrey Hall stood at the kitchen table, pressing down the edges of a shortbread tin. The warm scent of sugar and butter hung about the place like a comforting shawl. She had baked it early that morning, well before the others were up. A strange impulse had moved her. Perhaps it was the quietness of the house at dawn, or the lingering memory of Siegfried Farnon returning late the night before, distracted and a little too cheerful in the way he always was when trying not to show something.
He’d been at one of those meetings again. Veterinary Surgeons and the War Effort , or something along those lines. Audrey didn’t ask too many questions, not because she wasn’t curious, but because Siegfried was like a door with a secret lock. He only opened when he wanted to, and she had long since accepted that. Still, she’d noticed the way he’d fussed with his tie before leaving yesterday. He’d even asked her, twice, whether his coat looked “respectable enough.”
This morning, though, he'd surprised everyone by announcing he would be taking over surgery for the day, leaving James and Tristan to manage the calls. Helen was glad, James could take her with him up to Heston.
“Splendid change of pace,” he’d declared over breakfast, waving his fork as though commanding an orchestra. “They need the experience. I shall stay here and ensure we don’t fall behind on consultations.”
Tristan had smirked knowingly into his porridge. James merely nodded, perhaps a little relieved. And Audrey, well, Audrey had merely carried on serving toast. But her heart had skipped a curious little beat.
Now, as she arranged the tea tray, she found herself smiling without quite meaning to. It was a rare thing, this quiet day with Siegfried underfoot. And rarer still to see him so content, even boyish in his charm, as he pottered around the surgery between patients.
He had already consumed three pieces of her shortbread. Each time, he had made a great show of it; humming exaggeratedly, eyes closed in mock ecstasy, muttering things like "Mrs Hall, you've truly outdone yourself! It's practically ambrosia." She had rolled her eyes every time, but her cheeks had grown warmer all the same.
It was absurd, of course. Entirely absurd. They had known each other for years, existed side by side in a comfortable dance of duties and shared silence. And yet…
There was a certain way he looked at her sometimes. Not with the wild heat of youth, but something quieter, steadier, and far more dangerous. She'd caught it once when he thought she wasn’t looking, after she'd scolded him gently for leaving his gloves on the stove, of all places. That look had settled over his face like soft twilight. And then, as quickly as it had come, it had gone.
She pushed the thought away and turned to carry the tray into the surgery. As she stepped into the room, Siegfried glanced up from a stack of notes.
“Another cup?” he asked, eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Don’t tempt me to pour it over your head,” she said lightly, but her smile betrayed her fondness.
He laughed ,a proper, deep laugh, and she noticed again how it softened the sharp lines of his face. There was a boyishness to him today that melted some inner reserve in her. He was always handsome, but today… today he looked kind .
As she poured his tea and set the shortbread within reach, Siegfried leaned back in his chair with a sigh of satisfaction. “I should like to make this a tradition, you know,” he said. “You, me, shortbread, and peace.”
“Don’t let James hear you say that. He might think you’re going soft.”
“Oh, I’ve been soft for a long time,” he said absently.
Audrey blinked.
Before she could respond, the doorbell rang.
She straightened instinctively, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “That’ll be a patient, most likely,” she said, already moving toward the hallway.
Siegfried stood too, brushing biscuit crumbs from his lapels. “I’ll get-”
“No, no, I’ve got it,” she said quickly, and he stopped mid-step.
She opened the front door with a practiced smile, but what she found on the threshold gave her pause.
A woman stood there. Tall, striking in a polished sort of way, with waves of chestnut hair pinned under a feathered hat. She was perhaps a year or two older than Audrey, maybe three. Her coat was smartly tailored, her gloves spotless, her eyes curious. Assessing.
“Good morning,” Audrey began. “Can I help you?”
The woman tilted her head slightly. “I was told a Mr Siegfried Farnon lives here.”
“He does, yes.”
A flicker of something passed across the woman’s face. Surprise? Disappointment? “Ah,” she said, a slow nod. Then, almost tentatively “You must be his wife, then.”
Audrey’s mouth opened, but no words came. Her mind went blank. Wife?
And then, from just behind her, she felt Siegfried’s presence. She turned slightly and saw him standing there, his face unreadable but only for a second.
“Yes!” he said, with sudden, decisive cheer. “This fine lady here, my beloved Audrey, is my wife.”
Audrey froze.
He’d said it so smoothly, as though it had always been true.
She looked up at him sharply, but there was something in his eyes. Not panic. Not deceit.
Hope.
And she understood, in that strange, suspended moment, that this wasn’t entirely a performance. That something unspoken had shifted.
She turned back to the woman and offered her a calm smile, her hand brushing lightly, deliberately, against Siegfried’s. “Yes,” she said, voice steady. “That’s right.”
The woman blinked. “Oh,” she said, clearly taken aback. “I see.”
Audrey glanced at Siegfried again, and he offered her a brief, grateful smile. Not the teasing sort she was used to, but something warmer. Intimate. It sent a flutter through her chest that she sternly ignored.
“You must have come quite a way,” Audrey said, stepping aside. “Won’t you come in?”
The woman hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
As the woman stepped into the hallway, Audrey led the way with practiced hospitality, but her thoughts whirled like starlings. She didn’t know this woman, didn’t know what claim she had hoped to make upon Siegfried. But she did know that the words he’d just spoken, “ my beloved Audrey ”, had not been said lightly. Or falsely.
She let the woman’s coat slip from her shoulders with measured grace, hanging it neatly on the peg. All the while, she felt the weight of Siegfried’s gaze on her.
And for once, she didn’t mind at all.
The sitting room had seldom felt so full. Not with noise or bustle, but with a peculiar tension that danced just under the surface like static before a storm.
Audrey moved smoothly into her hostess self, fetching the tea tray from the kitchen with the same calm efficiency that had seen her through births, deaths, dinner disasters, and Tristan’s antics. But her hands trembled, ever so slightly, as she lifted the pot and set down fresh cups. Only once did she pause. Long enough to look out the kitchen window and gather herself.
She could hear their voices. Siegfried’s low, gentlemanly baritone and the woman’s more clipped, precise tone. Mildred, she had said her name was. Of course her name would be Mildred. Not too fashionable, but just stylish enough. The sort of woman who sent thank-you cards on monogrammed stationery.
Audrey smoothed her skirt and took a breath before returning.
“Here we are,” she said brightly as she stepped back into the room. “A nice strong pot. Just what a chilly day calls for.”
“Thank you,” Mildred said with a polite smile. “You’re very kind.”
Audrey poured with the ease of long habit, setting the milk and sugar just so. “Milk? Sugar?”
“One of each, thank you.”
Audrey passed her the cup with a steady hand and then offered one to Siegfried, who took it with a warmth in his eyes that went unspoken.
“I’m Mildred Brown, by the way,” the visitor said, sitting a touch straighter in her chair. “We, Siegfried and I, were both at the meeting yesterday in York.”
“Of course,” Audrey replied smoothly. “Audrey Farnon. A pleasure.”
She felt Siegfried glance her way, and she could sense the relief radiating off him in waves. Her use of the surname had not gone unnoticed.
She couldn’t very well leave him to flounder now, not after what he’d said at the door. Whatever had possessed him to blurt out “ my wife ”, she didn’t know, but she wasn’t about to let him be embarrassed. Not with that gentle, vulnerable look still lingering in his eyes.
“Farnon,” Mildred repeated, sipping her tea. “I see. I hadn’t realised…”
She trailed off, watching them both. Audrey met her gaze with a pleasant, impenetrable expression.
“I’d thought you were a bachelor,” Mildred said to Siegfried, not accusingly, but with a note of awkward curiosity. “You rather disappeared before I could say hello yesterday. I spotted you in the lobby, but by the time I turned around, you were gone.”
Siegfried offered a polite smile. “Yes, well… the meeting rather ran on, didn’t it? I must have slipped out between speeches.”
Audrey didn’t miss the quick glance he gave her. A silent apology, perhaps, or just an assurance. She didn’t ask. Instead, she reached for his hand and laced her fingers gently between his.
Siegfried blinked, startled, then visibly melted. It wasn’t something Audrey had ever done before, not like this, not in front of anyone. But her grip was warm, steady. Possessive, even. And it did something to him. Something unspeakable.
He gave her a brief look of sheer adoration, his eyes almost shining.
“Very much not a bachelor,” Audrey said lightly, with a smile that had more than a hint of mischief. “As you can see.”
There was a silence. Not awkward, simply full.
Mildred set her cup down with care. “Well. My apologies. I didn’t mean to presume.”
“Not at all,” Audrey said with grace. “Easy mistake to make.”
“Indeed,” Siegfried added, giving Audrey’s hand a light squeeze, still trying to recover from the fact that her fingers were twined with his. It felt natural. Far too natural. Like they had done it a thousand times before. He didn’t want to let go.
Mildred looked between them again, her curiosity not quite quenched. “If you don’t mind me asking… how long have you two been married?”
Audrey opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Siegfried turned to her with the sort of soft, wondering smile she had never quite seen before. The one that made her heart both lift and ache.
“Seven years,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers. “But I’ve been in love with her for ten.”
Audrey’s lips parted. Her breath caught. For the second time that day, her words failed her.
A blush, honest, unmistakable, bloomed across her cheeks. She felt it spread like warmth from a hearth.
She laughed, gently, almost shyly. “Well. They’ve been the best years of my life.”
The corners of Siegfried’s eyes crinkled as his smile deepened. Without thinking, he reached up and gave her nose a gentle bop with his index finger.
“Oh, stop that,” she said, laughing and rolling her eyes, but the gesture lingered between them like a shared secret.
Mildred smiled politely and looked down at her tea. The room felt different now. Less like a parlour, more like a drawing of curtains on a play she hadn’t been invited to watch.
“Thank you, Mrs Farnon ,” she said at last, rising gracefully. “That was excellent tea.”
Audrey stood as well, straightening her skirt with practiced ease. “It was lovely to meet you, Miss Brown. Do have a safe journey back.”
“I will,” Mildred said, glancing once more at Siegfried. “Goodbye.”
Siegfried stood and nodded courteously. “Goodbye, Mildred. All the best.”
Audrey walked her to the door and opened it. A gust of wind swept in, lifting a few leaves from the step.
Mildred hesitated just briefly before stepping outside. She looked back once. Not at Siegfried, but at Audrey. And her expression had softened, tinged now with something like understanding.
Then she was gone, her smart shoes clicking down the path and into the village beyond.
Audrey closed the door gently behind her, resting her hand on the frame a moment longer than necessary. She didn’t turn around right away. Her heart was thudding in her chest like a drum at lambing time.
Behind her, she heard Siegfried’s footsteps. Felt him pause just a few inches from her back.
She exhaled slowly, steadying herself, and turned to face him.
*TBC*