Lechance

Surgery hours had finished, and Paul had agreed that Harry and Elspeth should leave early. Something about the look in Elspeth's eye had made him very careful not to enquire why.

It left him sitting in the library, ostensibly reading the latest edition of the Journal of Medical Science, but in actuality thinking more about the dismembered mechanical spider he'd seen, and slowly rolling Scotch around a tumbler more than actually drinking it, waiting for Jay to return from teaching.

Paul had been to see the spider, and was still considering the engineering detail he'd seen as he walked down the street towards his house. That was probably why he wasn't paying as much attention to his surroundings as he should have been, and very nearly walked into someone.

Only nearly.

He pulled back just in time, raising his hat automatically in greeting. "I apologize, I didn't see you. I didn't step on you, did I?"

It seemed that everyone in town was far too busy paying attention to the patrol to worry about their physical wellbeing. Paul's few appointments for the afternoon had cancelled, and the waiting room was empty, and Jay, according to Elspeth, had gone out to see the patrol depart.

Leaving a message with Harry that he would be in the square looking for Jay and would notify him of any change to that plan, Paul buttoned his jacket, put on his hat, and went out, pausing as he approached the square and the crowd seemed remarkably small.

He turned to someone on the edge of the square with a small frown. "I take it that the sheriff and his party have already departed?"

Left on Paul's bedside table so that he'd see it when going to bed:
A tussie mussie, consisting of various decorative grasses, several stems of oats, forget-me-nots, and blue violets, with lace and blue ribbons at the base that Jay has dressed himself.

Message in the language of flowers:
Oats-For music, indicating Jay himself.
Forget-me-nots-For true love.
Grasses-For submission.
Blue violets-For faithfulness.

A small card, handwritten in flowing script is beside the flowers:
"Dearest Ascendant, 
A small gift from me to you. I thought these would go nicely on your bedside table, 
Yours J"

Wednesday evening found Paul uncharacteristically restless after surgery hours finished. The sun was setting, but the evening remained relatively light, and he went in search of James, pausing in the library doorway at the sound of a violin, not wishing to interrupt necessary practise time. Instead, he leaned against the doorframe, watching the graceful movements of his Beloved's body following the phrasing of the music and the skill of James' fingers moving over the neck of the instrument

He should probably go see the town doctor, if he's going to put together a practice. So despite the fact that he's feeling terribly shy of just about everyone these days, he squared his shoulders, borrowed a chaperone from the Beloveds' hotel, and headed over to office hours.

"Excuse me, sir, are you the doctor?"

Each morning, Paul held open surgery hours from ten until twelve. Each afternoon, he received appointed patients from two until five. Each Tuesday he paid visits where necessary, which meant that Tuesday late morning found him walking home for lunch, pausing with a smile to raise his hat to the person approaching along the sidewalk, and moved to the roadside to allow them to pass. "Good morning to you."

(Followed on from this thread, Tuesday Evening.)

James shivered nervously despite the fire to the side of him, and flicked a glance up to the mantel clock. Five minutes until Paul was due to finish. Please God, don't let him be delayed.

He'd banked up the fire well in the library as requested, and it was giving off enough heat to last for some time. Harry and Elspeth were long gone home, and James felt quite safe, despite his exposure, naked and kneeling in front of the fire. The rug was warm too, but he soon felt the weave starting to dig into his knees, the more time passed by. He'd got up and paced awhile, before he panicked slightly, and knelt back down again quickly.

Two minutes, and James heard Paul's footsteps coming down the hallway. He was here. He tried to steady his breathing, taking large deep breaths to calm himself, before he bowed his head, eyes closed. He held his hands behind him, one hand encircling his other wrist.

James shifted nervously from foot to foot. He felt like this was a first courting date, instead of a stolen luncheon. He was trusting that Paul had seen his note, and was anxiously awaiting his arrival by the bridge at the end of Ilen Street.

He'd packed them both a decent picnic lunch into a covered basket. Bits and pieces left over in the pantry from the festive season, potted meats, spreads, cheese, a couple of slabs of cake, a couple of bottles of Ginger Beer, and some fresh bread that he'd picked up this morning. He was actually quite proud of himself for having put it all together, despite the fact that no cooking hadn't actually been required.

As Paul had mentioned, the weather *was* warmer than he'd expected, and with the clear morning they'd had, he'd thought a picnic might be a fun break from the day's work, if a little unseasonal. He jigged up onto his toes, squinting into the middle distance to try to look for Paul.

Sunday at last. The week had lasted forever, days stretching out, Paul's only full time that which he spent with his patients or his papers. Elspeth and Harry had moved out, and his house sat waiting, as he was waiting, for James to come and fill it with his energy, his music, and his warmth.

The contract had been finalized, signed, and witnessed, and Paul wasn't even trying to hide the pride in his expression as he fastened the slim band around James' wrist, lifting his hand to kiss the place the band rested before offering his own for James to seal the union.

Sunday afternoon. The third banns had been read, and neither of them had decided to refuse the match - a fact that Paul was surprised to find himself relieved by, having thought he was sure of James' commitment.

At 3 o' clock, he was waiting in the library. A fire was laid, but not burning, in the grate, and paper and ink lay waiting on the table in the window. Two chairs were positioned by the fireplace, and Paul was seated in one of them, leafing through the day's newspaper when the door opened to reveal Harry's grinning face, and then James beyond him, bringing Paul smartly to his feet, both hands held out.

Paul had checked his appointments for the afternoon, made certain that Elspeth would know where to send for him if necessary, and was waiting by the front steps of the museum. Despite the clement weather, his long coat was buttoned smartly over his suit and his hat, of course, neatly on his head. Thin leather gloves covered his hands, which he pulled from his pockets at the sight of James and Harry approaching, going to meet them with a smile.

"Harry, thank you. Mr. Warren, I trust you are well this day?"

Paul's habit of late night walks meant that he was rarely awake early enough for excursions before consulting hours in the mornings. A restless night, though, had resulted in him deciding that further pursuit of slumber would be counterproductive, and he'd risen quietly not to disturb the household, pulled on his jacket, and turned his steps towards the town, rather than away from it.

On seeing another person approaching, he raised his hat politely. "Early to be about," he observed.

Paul,
The second banns are read! Our wedding grows ever closer, and my heart feels full of joy at the thought.

Are you perhaps available today to meet with me? I have much to share with you. My journal becomes ever more full of fine words about you, my Ascendant, and yes, dare I say it, my love. Scarce a waking moment passes without your presence in it, and Paul, how I long to share my life with you.

Always your Beloved,
James

James was pacing the floor of the foyer of the Beloved's Hotel on Saturday morning. He had his red leatherbound journal under his arm, feeling a bit selfconcious about it, as if a casual observer was about to stop him and ask about it's contents. 

He was dressed slightly more casually than on the previous courting call, charcoal shirt and black pants, long black loose scarf and long black coat. His hair was swept back into a ponytail, once more, this time with a black ribbon.

When the bell rang at 11am, announcing Mrs. St. John's arrival, James nearly yelped in anticipation, before calming down, waiting for the staff to bring her through.

A note is delivered to Doctor Paul Roberts early on Wednesday afternoon:

Dear Paul,

A quick note to assure you that I did indeed get the Apothecary to make up the sleeping draught as per your scrip. It is now in my grateful possesion, and hopefully it should grant me peaceful sleep as planned. Thank you again for your care in this matter.

I write to also let you know that further to our conversation yesterday afternoon, I have become inspired to start journal-writing once more. I bought a most lovely looking book this morning for the purpose whilst I was in town. I am looking forwards to it, as I found it to be a most enjoyable experience in my younger days. Many thanks to you for your inspiration!

I do hope most sincerely that you enjoyed our meeting yesterday as did I, and to further more continue with courting if it suits?

Your servant,
James

My dearest Eliza,

( News for you )
Your loving brother,
Paul

It was 2pm precisely when Paul arrived at the Beloved's hotel on Tuesday afternoon. His best suit was freshly pressed, his tie doubly checked, his hair smoothed back and his friend and chaperon torn between teasing and delight. Paul bore with Harry's teasing all the way to the steps outside the hotel, and finally warned him to silence as they passed through the doors to the lobby.

The faint sound of familiar piano music suggested strongly that James was in a nearby parlor, but Paul resisted, supplying his card to the lady at the front desk and requesting that Mr. Warren should be notified of his arrival.

A printed copy of the soloists part from Beethoven's first piano concerto, and the attached note:

Beloved,

May I call upon you this afternoon?

Ever yours,

Paul

Sir,

I understand that your time is most precious and that you have a great many matters to occupy you, however, I should be most obliged if you should grant me audience in the near future to discuss a matter that occupies me greatly.

Hoping that this finds you in health, I remain,

Your humble servant,

Dr. Paul Roberts.