Fic: Freedom for Felicity, Chapter 6
Dec. 4th, 2012 09:11 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
osprey_archerTitle: Freedom for Felicity
Fandom: American Girl - Felicity
Rating: G
Pairings: Felicity/Ben, in this chapter
Warnings: I told you there would be six chapters (did I tell you that?) but HA, I lied. There's going to be seven.
When they arrived back at the Merrimans’ house, Mrs. Merriman took control. She ordered Polly put to bed, sent Felicity’s little brother William to fetch a doctor, bade Elizabeth bring hot water to warm Polly up, and told Felicity to change her dress.
“Change my dress!” Felicity cried, indignantly. “At a time like this!”
“You’re soaked through!” her mother said, and Felicity looked down at her dress, and realized again that her front was covered with mud to the knee from her fall.
But when Felicity came back in her clean dress, her mother shooed her away at the sickroom door. “Go sit by the fire with Ben,” she said.
“But – ” said Felicity.
“We can’t have two sick children in the house,” Mrs. Merriman said.
“But I must help her,” Felicity pleaded. “It’s all my fault – I led her into temptation, I saddled up Patriot and offered to go on the mill path and – ”
Mrs. Merriman laid her hands on Felicity’s cheeks. Felicity bowed her head, and Mrs. Merriman stood on tiptoe to kiss her brow. “Felicity, Polly is half grown. She is old enough to resist temptation when it stares her in the face. You helped by bringing her back, and now you can help by sitting by the fire so you don’t catch cold.” She kissed Felicity’s brow again. “Now go entertain Ben.”
So Felicity went down to the parlor. “I believe they’re scheming,” she said, shutting the door behind her.
Ben sat by the fire, next to a steaming coffee pot. “Do you mind if they are?” he asked, holding his hands close to the blaze.
“I suppose not,” she admitted.
She would have liked to keep the light tone between them: to banter of cheerful things, and rebuild the bond that had been so nearly severed. But she found it hard to think of anything but Polly injured upstairs, and could not help but feel guilty for it, though she knew her mother was right.
Felicity paced. Measured, ladylike paces were not very calming. But Polly would be all right, surely. She was young, and strong, and had not been out in the rain very long.
Felicity found that she was shivering. She went to sit next to the fire, by Ben, and poured them both cups of coffee. “I’m glad you were here,” she said. “How did you come to be here?”
“Miss Cole wrote to me.”
“Elizabeth!” cried Felicity.
“Yes; I brought her note,” Ben said, and produced it from an inner pocket.
Dear Mr. Davidson: the note read, in Elizabeth’s elegant hand.
I know it is unconventional to write to you, but then I think it is silly for you and Felicity, of all people, to allow convention to stand between you: and I truly believe that you both earnestly desire a reconciliation, which you are too proud to admit. If it is so, then –
“Elizabeth!” she said again.
Ben watched her anxiously. “Was she wrong, then?” he asked.
Felicity pressed the note in her laugh “It always surprises me when she does something like this,” she admitted. “She seems so proper, and then she contrives to steal a gown to finish it for me, or writes a letter, or what have you.”
Upstairs, Polly gave a strangled noise. Felicity crushed the letter in her lap, her hands clenching involuntarily on her skirts.
Ben stood. “I know it is a poor time,” Ben said. “You must want to be with your sister. May I hope to come back?”
A part of Felicity’s heart cried Yes!. But another part, still sore from his long silence, turned her eyes to her coffee cup, and she said without looking at him. “Why, now that you have rescued Polly, it is not possible that we would bar the door.”
“We rescued Polly,” Ben corrected.
Felicity glanced at the ceiling, as if her concern could strip through layers of wood and let her see how Polly got on, upstairs. She found herself on her feet again, and pacing, and Ben said, strained, “I am sorry if I have presumed. I thought – I wanted, when I came here, to repair things between us, and I thought we had gone some little way toward it. But do not feel obliged to do it, because I helped carry your sister. You would have saved her without me. You’re under no obligation.”
The stiffness of his speech touched on the rawness of her heart, and she cried, “I do not ask you out of obligation! I want you to come back, I have wanted so much – but you see, that is why I hesitate. A word from you, an apology, and we could have been married four years ago, as planned! And you have said nothing! Why show up now?”
“You ordered me never to speak to you again,” Ben said. “Forgive me for taking you at your word. And we could not have married – is your memory so short? Your family had not freed your slaves.”
She remembered: I refuse to marry into blood money, he had said. The memory sparked a last burst of fury, and then it seemed all the fuel burnt out. She felt very tired.
How was Polly getting on? She wanted to go check on her. But she knew that would be a retreat, and she must see this conversation through to the end.
“But when you heard we had – ” she said, leaning on the chair back staring into the fire. “You made no attempt to contact – ”
“Neither did you nor your father contact me.”
“I was not going to go to you, like a child with her first sampler, to ask for praise for doing right,” Felicity said. “I could never have done it: as Elizabeth said, I am too proud. Especially as I was in the wrong.”
“Well, and I was wrong too. Not about that. But I am sorry that I said – what I said – about your grandfather. I spoke in anger, and I know I was unjust. He wasn’t that kind of man. He would never have…”
Ben hesitated, searching for delicate words. Felicity felt a sudden light-headedness. His apology had lanced a sore that had grown and festered on her heart.
“He would never have violated anyone under his governance,” Ben finished, at length.
“Grandfather certainly would not!” Felicity exploded. “In fact, I found a letter one of his guests sent him. The guest complained that Grandfather’s hospitality was entirely lacking, that when he visited a plantation he expected a wench in his bed and – ”
“Felicity!” Ben was horrified.
“I’m only quoting,” Felicity said. “I have the letter, if you’d like to see it. I found it going through Grandfather’s papers to get the manumissions sorted.”
“You shouldn’t have to see such awful things,” Ben said.
“Oh, bother it all!” said Felicity. “I don’t believe for a moment that it makes the world better to hide awful things from women. It only makes it more convenient for men who wish to be awful. Would my dear horse Penny be better off if I had not seen that Jiggy Nye was using her cruelly, and helped her to escape?”
“You may have a point,” Ben admitted. He sipped his coffee. “I find I am out of the habit of arguing with you,” he added. “I find that I have missed it.”
“And I have missed arguing with you,” Felicity admitted.
“So may I hope to return, then?” Ben said again. “To argue some more?”
He had extended his hand, palm up. It was more a question than a request. Felicity leaned across the back of the chair to place her fingers in his. “Yes, I think you must come back,” she said. “We have a great many arguments yet to canvass.”
“A lifetime’s worth?” Ben asked, with a gentle squeeze of her hand.
Felicity bit her lip, but she could not keep her eyes from shining. “Perhaps,” she said.
Fandom: American Girl - Felicity
Rating: G
Pairings: Felicity/Ben, in this chapter
Warnings: I told you there would be six chapters (did I tell you that?) but HA, I lied. There's going to be seven.
When they arrived back at the Merrimans’ house, Mrs. Merriman took control. She ordered Polly put to bed, sent Felicity’s little brother William to fetch a doctor, bade Elizabeth bring hot water to warm Polly up, and told Felicity to change her dress.
“Change my dress!” Felicity cried, indignantly. “At a time like this!”
“You’re soaked through!” her mother said, and Felicity looked down at her dress, and realized again that her front was covered with mud to the knee from her fall.
But when Felicity came back in her clean dress, her mother shooed her away at the sickroom door. “Go sit by the fire with Ben,” she said.
“But – ” said Felicity.
“We can’t have two sick children in the house,” Mrs. Merriman said.
“But I must help her,” Felicity pleaded. “It’s all my fault – I led her into temptation, I saddled up Patriot and offered to go on the mill path and – ”
Mrs. Merriman laid her hands on Felicity’s cheeks. Felicity bowed her head, and Mrs. Merriman stood on tiptoe to kiss her brow. “Felicity, Polly is half grown. She is old enough to resist temptation when it stares her in the face. You helped by bringing her back, and now you can help by sitting by the fire so you don’t catch cold.” She kissed Felicity’s brow again. “Now go entertain Ben.”
So Felicity went down to the parlor. “I believe they’re scheming,” she said, shutting the door behind her.
Ben sat by the fire, next to a steaming coffee pot. “Do you mind if they are?” he asked, holding his hands close to the blaze.
“I suppose not,” she admitted.
She would have liked to keep the light tone between them: to banter of cheerful things, and rebuild the bond that had been so nearly severed. But she found it hard to think of anything but Polly injured upstairs, and could not help but feel guilty for it, though she knew her mother was right.
Felicity paced. Measured, ladylike paces were not very calming. But Polly would be all right, surely. She was young, and strong, and had not been out in the rain very long.
Felicity found that she was shivering. She went to sit next to the fire, by Ben, and poured them both cups of coffee. “I’m glad you were here,” she said. “How did you come to be here?”
“Miss Cole wrote to me.”
“Elizabeth!” cried Felicity.
“Yes; I brought her note,” Ben said, and produced it from an inner pocket.
Dear Mr. Davidson: the note read, in Elizabeth’s elegant hand.
I know it is unconventional to write to you, but then I think it is silly for you and Felicity, of all people, to allow convention to stand between you: and I truly believe that you both earnestly desire a reconciliation, which you are too proud to admit. If it is so, then –
“Elizabeth!” she said again.
Ben watched her anxiously. “Was she wrong, then?” he asked.
Felicity pressed the note in her laugh “It always surprises me when she does something like this,” she admitted. “She seems so proper, and then she contrives to steal a gown to finish it for me, or writes a letter, or what have you.”
Upstairs, Polly gave a strangled noise. Felicity crushed the letter in her lap, her hands clenching involuntarily on her skirts.
Ben stood. “I know it is a poor time,” Ben said. “You must want to be with your sister. May I hope to come back?”
A part of Felicity’s heart cried Yes!. But another part, still sore from his long silence, turned her eyes to her coffee cup, and she said without looking at him. “Why, now that you have rescued Polly, it is not possible that we would bar the door.”
“We rescued Polly,” Ben corrected.
Felicity glanced at the ceiling, as if her concern could strip through layers of wood and let her see how Polly got on, upstairs. She found herself on her feet again, and pacing, and Ben said, strained, “I am sorry if I have presumed. I thought – I wanted, when I came here, to repair things between us, and I thought we had gone some little way toward it. But do not feel obliged to do it, because I helped carry your sister. You would have saved her without me. You’re under no obligation.”
The stiffness of his speech touched on the rawness of her heart, and she cried, “I do not ask you out of obligation! I want you to come back, I have wanted so much – but you see, that is why I hesitate. A word from you, an apology, and we could have been married four years ago, as planned! And you have said nothing! Why show up now?”
“You ordered me never to speak to you again,” Ben said. “Forgive me for taking you at your word. And we could not have married – is your memory so short? Your family had not freed your slaves.”
She remembered: I refuse to marry into blood money, he had said. The memory sparked a last burst of fury, and then it seemed all the fuel burnt out. She felt very tired.
How was Polly getting on? She wanted to go check on her. But she knew that would be a retreat, and she must see this conversation through to the end.
“But when you heard we had – ” she said, leaning on the chair back staring into the fire. “You made no attempt to contact – ”
“Neither did you nor your father contact me.”
“I was not going to go to you, like a child with her first sampler, to ask for praise for doing right,” Felicity said. “I could never have done it: as Elizabeth said, I am too proud. Especially as I was in the wrong.”
“Well, and I was wrong too. Not about that. But I am sorry that I said – what I said – about your grandfather. I spoke in anger, and I know I was unjust. He wasn’t that kind of man. He would never have…”
Ben hesitated, searching for delicate words. Felicity felt a sudden light-headedness. His apology had lanced a sore that had grown and festered on her heart.
“He would never have violated anyone under his governance,” Ben finished, at length.
“Grandfather certainly would not!” Felicity exploded. “In fact, I found a letter one of his guests sent him. The guest complained that Grandfather’s hospitality was entirely lacking, that when he visited a plantation he expected a wench in his bed and – ”
“Felicity!” Ben was horrified.
“I’m only quoting,” Felicity said. “I have the letter, if you’d like to see it. I found it going through Grandfather’s papers to get the manumissions sorted.”
“You shouldn’t have to see such awful things,” Ben said.
“Oh, bother it all!” said Felicity. “I don’t believe for a moment that it makes the world better to hide awful things from women. It only makes it more convenient for men who wish to be awful. Would my dear horse Penny be better off if I had not seen that Jiggy Nye was using her cruelly, and helped her to escape?”
“You may have a point,” Ben admitted. He sipped his coffee. “I find I am out of the habit of arguing with you,” he added. “I find that I have missed it.”
“And I have missed arguing with you,” Felicity admitted.
“So may I hope to return, then?” Ben said again. “To argue some more?”
He had extended his hand, palm up. It was more a question than a request. Felicity leaned across the back of the chair to place her fingers in his. “Yes, I think you must come back,” she said. “We have a great many arguments yet to canvass.”
“A lifetime’s worth?” Ben asked, with a gentle squeeze of her hand.
Felicity bit her lip, but she could not keep her eyes from shining. “Perhaps,” she said.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2013-01-01 02:38 pm (UTC)YES. You have such a great way with words, and they always feel period authentic. I like her remark about being like a child with her sampler, too.
I do love-love-love your fanfics, but I hope sometime you will write something all your own--not because I don't value fanfics, but because something all your own you could get published, and then more people could enjoy your writing.
(And this was an excellent chapter.)
no subject
Date: 2013-01-01 05:59 pm (UTC)And I also have the idea about Red Cross nurse who meets the injured WWI German pilot who is secretly a girl. Also secretly not German, but a princess (maybe just noble?) from a tiny imaginary European country that finished WWI with a Communist revolution. Because everything is better with tiny imaginary European countries!
She has to go back to save her brother from the revolutionaries. Plot ensues!
no subject
Date: 2013-01-01 06:25 pm (UTC)