nineveh_uk

Last one! The sketch of this was actually written on the same piece of paper as the AU!cowpat story of 11 months ago. How time flies…

Busman’s Honeymoon

The stairs creaked, and the door opened onto the chill dark of the dressing room. Peter’s pyjama collar pressed damply again his neck and he began to feel that not wasting time in drying his hair might have been a mistake. The room smelt of old wood and he padded quietly across, halting shortly before the door. It hung on the latch against the cold, haloed by the faint glow of firelight, and seeping through the boards a scent of soap and powder, lavender and warmth. It had been more than five years, but they were here at last. He reached for the latch.

Harriet sat beside the fire, satin nightgown glowing rosy gold against the flames.

‘Sweetheart,’ her skin was the colour of honey in the dim light. Blossoms of the honey-sweet... ‘Sweetheart, take your bridegroom. Quite clean and’ he wrenched his eyes upwards to her face.

The wide mouth was pinched closed, the dark eyes strained. Her hands, he saw, now, were not folded casually, but digging her nails into her wrist. Harriet, not golden and smiling and welcoming, but green, griped and unhappy. He dropped to his knees beside her and touched her hand. It tightened convulsively on his.

‘Harriet?’

‘Oh, Peter!’ She laughed shakily. ‘I’m so sorry. It’s only the curse, but I really do feel quite dreadful and I’ve got the most awful headache. I’ve taken something for it, but all I want to do is go to sleep.’

He lifted her into the bed and tucked the eiderdown around her shoulders before setting out in search of a hot-water bottle. Thank goodness Bunter had packed the bromide.