Chapter Text
There was something unexpectedly intoxicating about keeping a secret. Audrey could not deny it; concealing a romance in a house that never truly slept, filled with restless men and a curious young boy, was a logistical task that was near impossible, yet utterly exhilarating.
She had already lost count of the times they had almost been discovered. The brush of a hand in the hallway, a look that lingered a second too long across the breakfast table, or that faint trail of pipe tobacco and cologne that remained clinging to her own skin long after Siegfried had slipped away from the room. Each "near miss" left their hearts hammering, not out of fear, but from the rush of adrenaline that came with sharing something that belonged only to them.
The kitchen, her personal sanctuary, had ironically become the most dangerous place in Skeldale House.
It was one o'clock in the morning. The rest of the house had already surrendered to sleep; James was resting after an exhausting day with Jimmy, and Tristan was likely snoring following a date with Charlotte. Audrey, however, remained awake. She hadn't bothered to dress formally, wearing her cotton nightdress under a silk dressing gown that felt soft against her skin, while a carefully knotted scarf kept her curls in place.
She was finishing the last of the washing up, enjoying the near-absolute silence, when the familiar purr of the Rover announced his arrival. Her shoulders, tense from waiting, dropped an inch instantly. Although the war had finally ended and she no longer had to fear the pitch-black roads or the air raids, Audrey could not help that instinctive relief that flooded her chest every time she heard the engine. It was the certainty that he was back, safe and sound, under their roof.
The moment Siegfried crossed the threshold, the exhaustion etched into his eyes dissolved as if it had never existed. Audrey looked over her shoulder and offered him a smile brimming with tenderness.
He didn't say a word; none were needed. He crossed the kitchen with those purposeful strides that always made the floorboards vibrate and, before she could even reach for a cloth to dry her hands, he took her by the waist. His arms wrapped around her with a firmness that drew her without hesitation into the warmth of his body, still steeped in the fresh night air of the Yorkshire dales.
Audrey let herself go completely. She leaned her back against his chest, allowing his solidity to envelop her. It was as if, after years of holding the world on her shoulders and maintaining order amidst the chaos of Skeldale, she could finally release all the weight and simply let herself be held. In that embrace, under the dim light of the kitchen, Audrey was not the housekeeper, nor the confidante, nor the mediator; she was simply a woman unravelling before the man she loved.
Siegfried closed his eyes and rested his temple against hers, letting out a sigh that seemed to carry away all the day's complications. His hands, still large and rough from work on the farms, intertwined over Audrey’s stomach, atop the silk of her gown.
"Are you very tired?" she asked in a whisper, tilting her head back to seek his gaze, covering his hands with her own, still slightly damp.
"Not for you," he murmured, his voice sounding deep—a vibration she felt directly against her back. "I am never too tired for you, Audrey."
Siegfried buried his face in the hollow between her neck and the scarf holding her curls, inhaling the scent of lavender soap which, for him, signified absolute peace. They stayed like that for a moment, swaying slightly in an imperceptible dance, enjoying the stillness that only the small hours of the morning afforded them.
"Sometimes it feels like a dream," he continued, almost to himself, "coming home and knowing you are here, waiting for me."
Audrey smiled, feeling the warmth of his breath against her skin.
"I have always waited for you, Siegfried," she confessed, squeezing his hands. She meant it in both senses, literal and figurative.
He tensed slightly, surprised by the simplicity of her confession, and the arms surrounding her tightened with an almost possessive urgency, as if time might slip backwards if he did not hold her firmly enough.
Siegfried thought of all these years together, of the nights he returned late to find her there, always there, offering a cup of tea and a kind word. Or when she returned from her rounds during the war and he waited up for her, just to ensure she was well. Always maintaining a decorous distance that was killing them both inside. He remembered the torture of not being able to touch her when she needed it most, or when he felt the world was falling apart.
"Yes, but I couldn't do this," he replied with a smile she felt against her skin. He brushed his nose against Audrey’s neck, breathing deep her scent before pressing a slow, damp, and warm kiss right where her pulse throbbed with tell-tale strength.
She let out a soft laugh, a small, happy vibration that travelled through both their chests, fusing them into a single heartbeat. She felt light, almost ethereal, while the expert weight of Siegfried’s hands held her steady.
"Well, you can now," she whispered.
With a fluid movement, Audrey finally turned within his arms. Siegfried did not let go for a fraction of an inch; he held her against him, anchoring his hands firmly on her lower back, pressing her body against his as if he wanted to erase any trace of air that separated them.
Audrey raised a hand to his cheek, letting her thumb delicately trace the roughness of his beard and the small lines of fatigue surrounding his eyes—shadows she was determined to erase, caress by caress. Her fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of Siegfried’s neck, pulling him with a softness that was, at the same time, a command.
She leaned toward him with deliberate slowness, eliminating the final space. She sealed their lips in a kiss that began as a whisper of peace and rapidly evolved into a hungry surrender. It was a kiss that tasted of relief and the absolute certainty that, at last, their bodies had found their way home.
"I still find it hard to believe we wasted so much time," he murmured against her lips, without breaking contact entirely, keeping their foreheads pressed together as their breaths mingled. "We were so stubborn, weren't we?"
"We were fools," she corrected in a whisper.
Audrey closed the remaining distance, brushing her lips against his in a series of small, soft kisses that tasted of a long-suppressed tenderness.
"We were too frightened of what this might change between us," she continued against his mouth, "without realising that, in truth, everything had already changed long before we dared to say it."
Siegfried pulled back just enough to find her eyes, keeping his hands firm on Audrey’s waist.
Barely a month had passed since that night of the victory when they had finally kissed in this very kitchen. He remembered the intensity of that first kiss, an explosion of relief and desire that neither could—nor wanted to—contain any longer. Such had been the tide of emotions accumulated over years of silent coexistence that, once the dam broke, there was no turning back.
Siegfried remembered that night perfectly. He remembered the echo of his footsteps returning from Tristan’s room with two glasses and the amber glow of the sherry under the kitchen light. He remembered how Audrey, with a radiant smile and a new brightness in her eyes, told him of the party plans, unaware that he was no longer listening to the words, but losing himself in the warmth of her voice. He remembered how he could not help but interrupt her, as what overflowed from his heart was already too heavy to keep for another second.
"You are incredible, do you know that?" he told her with a smile born of profound admiration, as if he were beholding something magical. "I wouldn't be here without you."
"Oh, Mr Farnon," she said with a smile, looking down and dismissing his compliment with that deep-seated modesty of hers. "Do not exaggerate."
"I mean it, Audrey."
Pronouncing her name in the stillness of the kitchen made her look up, trapped by his gaze. Siegfried did not retreat.
"You have saved my life so many times and in so many ways, my dear. I shall never be able to truly thank you."
"Siegfried," she whispered, feeling a sweet, aching pressure in her chest. His eyes observed her with an understanding she had never seen before; it was as if all the puzzle pieces were finally falling into place. She feared what his words might say because she knew that what came next would change her world forever.
"When you left, I thought my life was over," he confessed, his voice cracking with honesty. "I behaved horribly and pushed everyone away, I was selfish and..." He took a deep breath, struggling to maintain his composure. "And now that you’ve returned, I live in constant fear that you might leave again..."
"I’m not going anywhere," she replied automatically, without thinking, covering his hand on the table. The physical contact was like an electric shock amidst the confession.
Siegfried’s voice trembled, but he used all his strength to press on. It was the leap into the abyss he had avoided for years, but he had to speak; it was now or never.
"Audrey, stay with me. Forever. Not as my housekeeper, nor just as my friend, but as my soulmate. As the half of my being. Because you are the answer to all my questions, the woman I love. I cannot imagine life without you, nor do I want to."
Back in the present, Siegfried sank his fingers into the fabric of her dressing gown, clutching her to him as if the echo of that memory still sent a shiver of incredulity through him at his own good fortune. Their bodies pressed together with a firmness that was the physical proof she was still there.
"I am so glad I was a brave fool that night," he murmured, brushing his lips against hers with every word, his voice laden with a devotion that made her vibrate.
Audrey, who already had her arms around his neck, tightened the circle, digging her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck to ensure he didn't pull away for a second. She basked in the solid warmth emanating from his chest.
"I am glad too, my foolish man," she replied before giving him a quick, chaste kiss on the lips, a desperate attempt to regain some sanity as she felt her will slipping through her fingers. "But I still think this is an absolute imprudence. Someone could come down at any moment."
Siegfried arched an eyebrow with that mischievous glint that always preceded one of his notions.
"James is exhausted with the boy," he murmured, ignoring the warning to concentrate on kissing her exposed neck. "And Tristan... well, Tristan is likely dreaming of Charlotte at this moment."
Siegfried buried his face in the curve of her shoulder and let out a low growl, a vibration Audrey felt in her very bones. He gave her a slow, deliberate kiss just below the ear, a point so precise and charged with intent that it made Audrey’s knees go weak. She clung to his shoulders, her fingers sinking into the wool of his jacket, as a ragged sigh escaped her lips.
She still could not fathom how they had been able to live so many years in a state of wilful ignorance, forgoing the expert weight of his hands on her body or the urgency of his lips against her skin. But since that night, when the announcement of the war’s end tore down the final defences between them, they had given each other no quarter. They sought one another with the desperation of those trying to reclaim lost time, as if every caress were a long-overdue debt they could finally settle.
Siegfried, emboldened by the silence of the house, slid a hand toward the ties of her dressing gown. He tugged at them with a playful confidence, undoing the knot while continuing to trace a trail of burning kisses down her neck, intoxicated by the way she surrendered against him, sighing his name like a prayer.
In a fit of boldness that took her by surprise, Siegfried took her firmly by the hips and lifted her with ease, seating her upon the edge of the wooden table.
Audrey let out a muffled giggle, a mixture of surprise and pure delight, as her legs instinctively twined around his waist to secure her position. The contact of her thighs against Siegfried’s sides eliminated any trace of decorous distance. Her hands, which before had only brushed his neck, now gripped him tightly, drawing him into the centre of her being with an urgency she no longer intended to hide behind her manners.
"Siegfried..." she murmured, seeking him with a messy, wet kiss that landed between his cheek and the corner of his lips, unable to fix her mark due to the haste of their mouths.
"Yes, my dear?" he asked with a smirk, as if they were discussing the weather and not devouring one another in the kitchen. He enjoyed seeing her this way—disarmed and without the composure she fought so hard to maintain—before reclaiming her mouth once more.
"The table..." she managed to gasp between kisses, though her fingers were already unfastening the knot of his tie with desperate impatience.
"The table is perfectly solid, I assure you," he growled, his eyes darkened by desire.
Without giving her time to reply, Siegfried captured her lips again, this time with a depth that stole her breath entirely. It was a ravenous kiss, a collision of tongues and sighs that threatened to make them forget a world, a house, or a family existed beyond that shadowed corner. His hands descended her thighs, squeezing the firm flesh beneath the fabric of her gown with a possessivity that robbed Audrey of her last ounce of sanity.
Siegfried slid his palms upward, causing the fabric to bunch at her hips. Just as his fingers finally found the warmth of Audrey’s bare skin—a contact that caused them both to let out a muffled moan—the sound hit them.
The creak of the third step—the one everyone at Skeldale knew to avoid, except when they were half-asleep—echoed like a gunshot in the silence of the kitchen.
In a movement choreographed by panic, they broke apart with an almost comical violence.
Audrey sprang from the table with an agility she didn't know she still possessed, clutching her gown shut with frantic hands while trying to recover her breath and composure in record time. Siegfried, for his part, stumbled backward, nearly tripping over his own feet, and in an act of absolute desperation, snatched the first thing his fingers reached on the sideboard.
When Tristan poked his head through the door—dishevelled, squinting, and shuffling his slippers in search of a glass of water—he was met with a surreal scene.
Siegfried stood before the counter, rigid as a statue, his back so tense it looked ready to snap. With one hand he held an empty saucepan, and the other was shoved deep into his trouser pocket, examining the metal with scientific intensity, as if the bottom of the pot held a secret.
Audrey, for her part, had her back to the room, clutching the teapot with a force that threatened to bend the handle. Her shoulders were hunched and her breathing, though she tried to control it, was still heavy and erratic.
"Do you two never sleep?" Tristan muttered between yawns, shuffling slightly toward the tap with eyes clouded by sleep.
"Your brother... has only just arrived. I am preparing him some tea," Audrey replied.
Her voice came out an octave higher than usual, a vibrant note that betrayed her agitation, but fortunately, Tristan was far too occupied trying to keep his eyelids open to notice the burning flush rising up her neck and disappearing beneath her headscarf.
"Let her sleep, brother," Tris grumbled, yawning so wide it seemed for a moment his jaw might unhinge. "It’s the middle of the night. Don’t be a tyrant; even Mrs H needs a rest from your nocturnal eccentricities."
Siegfried cleared his throat, a dry sound that echoed in the empty saucepan he still held with ridiculous solemnity.
"It is no trouble, Tris," she intervened quickly, before the usual brotherly bickering could begin. "I always wait up for him."
With a practised movement, Audrey lit the burner and put the water on the fire, avoiding looking at either man. The hiss of the gas filled the silence, giving them a reprieve.
"You’re an angel, Mrs H. They ought to give you a medal just for putting up with him." Tristan took a long draught from his water glass. Then, as he lowered it, he looked at his brother closely, narrowing his eyes. "What on earth are you doing with a saucepan?"
Siegfried looked down at the object, realising for the first time that he was holding it like an archaeological treasure. His fingers tightened around the metal handle and he arched an eyebrow, seeking to regain that air of authority that defined him, though his tie—dangerously skewed to the left—told a very different story.
"It appears to me that the tinning is suffering from premature oxidation," he declared, straightening his back with a dignity that was comical given the circumstances. "We shall have to discuss it seriously tomorrow, Mrs Hall. It is a matter of basic maintenance that we cannot afford to ignore."
Tristan looked at him over the rim of his glass, blinking slowly, as if trying to process whether his brother had truly just delivered a lecture on metallurgy at one o'clock in the morning.
"It’s a saucepan, Siegfried. Not a patient," he sighed, setting the glass on the counter with a sharp thud that made them both give a small start. "Go to bed. Both of you. You exhaust me just looking at you."
"You go to bed," he ordered, pointing to the door with the saucepan. "You have an early round tomorrow and I will not tolerate delays on account of your... hydric insomnia."
Tristan let out a huff, scratched his head, and shuffled out of the kitchen. Only when the creak of the third step sounded again, this time receding, did Audrey and Siegfried allow themselves to release the breath they had been holding.
Siegfried lowered the saucepan, looking at it with genuine bewilderment as if he’d just found a foreign object in his hands, and then he looked at Audrey. She was leaning against the counter, one hand over her chest and the other covering her mouth, trying to ensure her laughter didn't wake the whole house.
"Premature oxidation?" she whispered through her teeth, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
"It was the first thing that came to mind," he defended himself in a low voice, finally setting the saucepan on the table. He approached again, this time with much more caution, as if expecting Tristan to reappear at any moment. "But let us admit, I have had less-than-brilliant moments."
She laughed, shaking her head as she closed the distance between them. She looped her arms around his neck, interlacing her fingers at the nape of his neck, enjoying the solidity of his presence after the scare.
"Oh, my foolish man," she whispered, seeking his lips in a brief and tender kiss—a seal of complicity. "But we had better each return to our rooms before someone else decides they’re thirsty and comes down for another glass of water."
Siegfried nodded, but he didn't retreat a single step. Instead, he looked at her with that raw, honest intensity that always made Audrey’s heart skip a beat.
"What?" she asked softly, arching an eyebrow with a playful smile.
"Come to bed with me," he replied without hesitation. He slid his hand down her arm until their fingers were firmly entwined, skin against skin. "My bed feels far too empty without you, Audrey. I cannot settle to sleep knowing you are on the other side of the wall... but that you are not with me."
Audrey looked into his eyes, feeling her resolve to retreat to her own room vanish before the honest urgency in his voice. There was no need for further words; she simply squeezed his hand, turned off the gas for the tea they no longer required, and extinguished the final kitchen light.
They let the silence of the house guide them as he led her, on tiptoe, up the stairs. This time, they both avoided the third step with absolute precision, disappearing into the shadows of the hallway toward the sanctuary of his room where, for the remainder of the night, the outside world would cease to exist.