Chapter Text
There were many rooms in the practice where Audrey felt no need to knock anymore - it was as much her home as anybody’s and had been for many years.
There did still remain a few nooks in the house where a tentative knock felt polite and natural to her and had saved her - she was sure - from many embarrassing moments.
But there were rooms where Audrey had never knocked - never presumed to knock and ask for entry - namely Siegfried’s occupied bedroom and bathroom. Their schedules often didn’t cross naturally, and she had made a habit of washing before anybody else was awake to avoid interaction.
Siegfried’s bedroom was a room she rarely entered, occasionally sneaking in when he was occupied to pass a duster around the myriad of trinkets and books, but generally it just wasn’t done.
Audrey liked this unwritten rule of privacy, and if she ever lay in bed and thought about Siegfried in bed through the wall or listened to him whistle as he shaved, she would never admit it.
No - Audrey would never dare to disturb him - especially not when he was having a bath.
But somehow, she had found herself there, on a bleak December evening, as the house creaked in the wind and the radiators hissed. The house was mostly empty, and they’d separated early in the evening as Siegfried had been called away to a nearby farm.
The rain had lashed at the windows as Audrey had finished her knitting by the fire in relative silence. She wasn’t surprised that the younger ones were setting up camp in The Drovers for the evening – couldn’t blame them - and with both children tucked into bed, she had little else to do than worry over the clock and his absence.
It had gone 10:15pm, and Audrey ached to her bones from the day’s work. December was always her busiest month and after nodding off a few times in the chair, she cast one last glance at the silent door before climbing the stairs and settling into bed, only hearing Siegfried rattle his way in and turn the bath taps on gone 11pm.
Fifteen minutes later, she found herself at the bathroom door, not quite sure that the events were not transpiring in a dream. But this was not a situation she was taking lightly - it was an emergency.
Her hand hovered before she paused, retreated, then huffed and pressed on - tap tap tap. “Mr Farnon?” she heard herself muttering, all too quietly for the thick bathroom door. She dropped her head, looking up and down the darkened hallway - everybody was definitely out, “Mr Farnon?” she croaked again, tapping against the wood with the back of her knuckles, this time with more vigour.
The faint sound of sloshing water stopped, his whistle trailing off, and then a rather nervous, “Mrs Hall?”
“I would never normally trouble you,” she began, raising her voice and biting her lip. She tightened her dressing gown around her waist as she looked up the hallway for the source of the emergency again. She pressed on, “It’s just that there is a problem!” Her voice rose embarrassingly in pitch on the last word.
The silence lasted a few drawn-out seconds, followed by the mortifying sound of him heaving himself up and out of the tub. She closed her eyes and thought of other things - other things than the images her brain was inventing.
There was the sound of him moving around hastily, and she subconsciously made a note to fetch the mop once all of this was sorted. He never utilised her bath mat.
The door was pulled open at once, and Audrey glanced up at the ceiling to avoid eye contact, “Sorry,” she said, needing to make it very clear that she knew this was inappropriate. She could make out a hazy, warm figure in her peripheral vision. “I’m so sorry, it’s just-”
“-A problem, yes.” He took a single step towards her and tightened the towel around his waist. Siegfried would have smiled at her bashfulness if it wasn’t for his own embarrassment. He hadn’t wanted to waste time dressing again if there was indeed a problem, so a towel alone had unfortunately had to do.
Audrey glanced down, her thoughts suddenly thick as treacle, unable to formulate or escape her lips - all muddled and fleeting. There was nothing between them but a towel, slung low across his waist, revealing a hint of a dark trail of hair downward and a light smattering across his broad chest. She had always known he was well-conditioned - but that was when he was younger, troubled, and lean from not eating sufficiently. This was solid muscle, warmth and sturdiness - Audrey felt faint.
Siegfried waited for an explanation and cast his eyes across her - her hair no longer pinned, a dressing gown - out of bed, then - bare feet. He became aware of the water dripping down his legs and onto the floorboards between them. He tsked, turned around to fetch another bathmat, anticipating a telling-off, and threw it at his feet, swishing it around carelessly.
It wouldn’t help, Audrey thought - he was dripping wet. With his eyes averted, she glanced down again. The towel sat precariously low, and her eyes were drawn once more to the water droplets disappearing further-
“-Was there something I could help you with, Mrs Hall?” he muttered, back turned as he held onto the sink and pushed the towel around the edge of the bath with his foot.
He leaned down to pick it up, and Audrey forced herself to look away again - back to the issue at hand. “There is a problem in my b-bedroom,” she faltered on the last word, cheeks flushing pink with obvious mortification.
Siegfried turned, folding the small towel and draping it over the edge of the bath. He was still completely drenched, mostly from his hair - auburn curls well-formed in the humidity of the room, “Oh.”
Audrey couldn’t help herself and stepped forward, passing him another unused, smaller towel from the side of the sink, “For…,” she motioned vaguely toward his crown.
Siegfried smiled shyly, blush still high on his cheeks, and took it gently, “Yes - I did get out in rather a hurry.”
Audrey allowed herself to stare as he draped the towel over his head and vigorously rubbed, as men always do. His shoulders were broad, his arms flexing as he went, and she flushed again, feeling faint in the humid bathroom, “Sorry, again.”
“It’s quite alright - I was already done!” he insisted.
She knew that was a lie. He stayed in the bath far too long.
He tossed the towel in with the rest and glanced up at her flushed face, “I was just enjoying the warmth. Now - is everything alright, Mrs Hall?”
“It’s just,” she huffed, remembering the reason she was in this position in the first place. “It’s Gerald,” she pressed on. “He’s-” a deep breath, “-he’s under me bed.”
Siegfried stared, his hair a mess of tousled curls, brow furrowed in sheer panic. Silence stretched between them as they stared at one another, “Pardon?”
“Gerald,” Audrey shivered at the word, leaning back on one leg to peer down the corridor again, “He’s making a right racket under me bed.”
Siegfried swallowed.
“And you know how I feel about him, Mr Farnon,” Audrey continued, oblivious to the horror on his face.
“Yes - we all had certain feelings about that man,” Siegfried huffed weakly, chest puffing out a little.
She couldn’t believe him, “The rat, Siegfried!” Audrey clarified, becoming inpatient.
He widened his eyes, looking away from her offended expression, “Yes - that does make more sense,” he stammered, flushing red and tightening the loosened towel, “Silly really, the alternati-doesn’t matter-what was I thinki-of course it’s the bloody rat!” he finally managed to bark out with an embarrassed laugh.
“You are-” Audrey pressed her thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose, insufferable.
She took a moment to compose herself, and then shivered at the thought of her compromised bedroom once again. She could tell him off later. “Look - can you sort it, please? I’d really like to get me head down, and I can’t sleep knowing he’s-” her hands gestured, mimicking a little rat scurrying across the floor, “-in there with me!”
Siegfried turned back to the mirror and began to comb his hair with an old tortoiseshell comb, “He’s rather clean and friendly, Mrs Hall!” He flicked excess water into the sink, avoiding eye contact.
“Mr Farnon,” Audrey groaned, moving over the threshold into the humid bathroom to wipe around the basin with his discarded flannel, “Please.”
Siegfried glanced at her in the mirror and paused his grooming, taking in her pleading expression looking back at him. Somewhere along the way he’d forgotten she was his housekeeper, and he was in a towel. It felt comfortably domestic and he pushed the feelings down, “I can try,” he said carefully, “but that is all I can promise.”
“What do you mean?” Audrey pressed, leaning against the sink, not quite aware of how close they were standing all of a sudden. She could smell the mint in his soap. “Try?”
“Well…” he admitted sheepishly, turning to her at once, “They’re notoriously hard to wrangle and-”
“Siegfried Donald Farn-”
“-Alright, alright!” He set the comb back where it lived and ushered her out of the room, pulling the bathroom light cord before they were even both clear of the doorway - something that would earn him a stern word or two later - if she could remember.
He padded down the hallway and stopped in front of Audrey’s bedroom door, “Mr Farnon,” she hissed. “Clothes!”
He frowned, eager to be done with this rat business and get to bed himself, “But-”
“I’m not having you chasing a rat in my bedroom in just a towel!” She grimaced, fed up with the embarrassment, and pointed firmly at his own door. She winced at her own words, and looked over her shoulder, as if somehow the whole of Darrowby might hear them.
They moved one door down together, and Siegfried disappeared into his room, emerging moments later looking dishevelled in navy pyjamas, his neatly combed hair already a mess again, “Right,” he said, clapping his hands together, a look hovering between a grin and a grimace.
“Right,” Audrey echoed, pressing against his shoulder and steering him toward her room. “Come on - I want to go to bed!”
Siegfried smiled to himself, finding her rather adorable when she was reliant on him, and he did his best not to dwell on that. It was easier to sound exasperated, “I will try,” he repeated. “Best you wait in my room - I’ll need to shut your door in case he makes a run for it.”
Audrey felt rather sick, and she hadn’t even questioned him yet about the origin of Gerald, “Fine, just-” She patted his arm and offered a sympathetic yet inconvenienced smile, “Be quick!” The door clicked shut behind him, and Audrey decided she didn’t need to linger in the corridor to listen. Downstairs was tempting, but she felt self-conscious waiting in the sitting room in her dressing gown. If Tristan came home and saw her - God forbid Charlotte too - she’d be mortified all over again.
As much as she wasn’t sure, Siegfried’s room seemed, begrudgingly, the best option.
It was warm, on account of Audrey having drawn the curtains and turned the radiator up a notch earlier that evening - a habit she’d developed whenever he was called out late on winter nights. His blankets were turned down at the corner, the bedside lamp left on, and the room felt incredibly cosy and inviting, she had to admit. She really was tired, after a long day of Christmas preparations, babysitting, cooking, and cleaning, and it was obscenely late.
She perched awkwardly on the end of the bed at first, unsure if she could cope with any more inappropriate, scandalous behaviour that night. There came the sound of crashing and swearing, and Audrey winced, half-rising as if to help, before realising she’d be of little use perched on a chair with a broom. She listened, looking over to the wall and the source of the profanities, and then slowly sat back further on the bed.
The shared wall between their rooms had always been an interesting feature of the house and over the years had led her to develop exceptionally quiet habits. She was quite used to, and good at, stifling noises and remaining discreet about things. She looked down at her wringing hands, flushing at the possibility of Siegfried lying here each night, able to hear her getting ready for bed. It was a dangerous train of thought, and she quickly lifted her gaze, searching the room for something else to focus on.
It was no use.
Everything reminded her of Siegfried - his peculiarities and his charm. Or reminded her of herself. The socks she’d knitted him three Christmases ago. The cologne she’d found one year and slipped into his birthday present pile anonymously. The photograph of Tristan and herself, taken when he was much younger - the first year she’d felt settled enough to want one taken. She’d lost track of it that same day, only to find it later in a small frame on his windowsill after returning from Sunderland. Even his clothes peeking out from the wardrobe bore years of her handiwork - patched and mended to oblivion.
The stretches of silence were broken intermittently by bangs and scrapes along the shared wall, and Audrey concluded the problem was far from resolved.
Her thoughts drifted back to the bathroom - to the sight of him, self-conscious yet somewhat at ease, and how it had unsettled her in an unexpected way. She had always admitted that he was an attractive man; their relationship was complex, nuanced and layered, after all. But if she was truthful and honest with herself, seeing him wrapped in nothing but a towel had stirred something unfamiliar, and she wasn’t sure what it meant or what to do with that knowledge.
She shifted, willing the arousal away. Her legs ached and her lower back protested at her seated position, and she rose to her feet, stepping carefully toward the bedside table to clean his reading glasses with the sleeve of her dressing gown. Papers lay strewn there, along with a small, well-thumbed and loved book of poetry she didn’t dare open. Her back twinged as she bent to inspect a small green beetle set in lucite resin, and she finally relented, sitting once more - this time dangerously close to his pillows - the side where he slept.
Surveying the room, she realised it was far too cluttered and messy for her liking - and yet she smiled. He was the most unique man she had ever known, and despite the complications that came with that fact, Audrey was coming to the conclusion that she loved him.
The bedroom door creaked open and Siegfried reappeared, “Mrs Hall.”
“You did it!” She jumped up, suddenly flustered and nervous, as if she’d been caught in some indiscretion.
“Not exactly,” he said, looking worried. He padded into the room, fidgeting with the hair at the nape of his neck before sitting heavily on the end of the bed. He looked exhausted.
Audrey deflated, sinking back down - now very close to him, “Oh,” she said, in an uncertain, questioning tone.
He nodded, picking imaginary lint from the thick woollen blanket, “Not possible. He’s… fairly settled.” His hair was even more unruly and dishevelled now, his pyjama top slipping down on one shoulder, revealing collarbone. Audrey made a point of not looking.
“Well - unsettle him!” she insisted, edging closer and taking his hand in plea. The old mattress was incredibly worn and dipped alarmingly, and she found herself pressed against his warm leg and side.
Siegfried glanced at her, biting his lip and clearing his throat, “Tell them.”
It was Audrey’s turn to frown, “What?”
“Them. Plural,” he ended on a whisper, wincing slightly.
Audrey buried her face in her hands for the second time that night, “Mr Farnon-”
“It appears he’s settled down,” he glanced up to her narrowed eyes, peeking out of her hands, “With a… family.” When Audrey didn’t say anything, he stood, standing tall in front of her and pacing back and forth, “As far as I can tell anyway,” he continued quickly, biting his nails, “I couldn’t see much of the little bugger, he’s up in the mattress and there’s plenty of nesting material-”
“-Nesting material,” Audrey echoed faintly, like she had a bad taste in her mouth, “How did this even happen?”
“I knew he’d gone missing again, but there was no evidence he’d emigrated upstairs! Into your room no less!” He knelt down before her, knowing this called for his biggest apology yet, “Take my room.”
He gently pulled her hands away from her face, a gesture which Audrey tried not to let soften her. More scandal, “No, I couldn’t-”
“-You could - you must!” he insisted, “I’ll try again tomorrow - James might be able to help me.” He was rubbing the backs of her hands ever so slightly, the guilt plain on his face, “For now, please – take my room. It’s definitely rat-free, and you deserve the best night’s sleep possible and proper rest.”
Audrey sighed and worried her lip, glancing around the room for alternatives, “I could take the settee-”
“-No!” Siegfried called out, squeezing her hands, “No - absolutely not. I must insist!”
He let go and stood, plonking himself down next to her on the bed again. She bounced a little with the movement, “I would take the settee myself – it’s just me back and legs-“
“Please, Mrs Hall,” his eyes were soft, and she decided she couldn’t stay angry at him for very long, “No justification needed.” He squeezed her hand tightly, “The justification is that I’m an imbecile and should be more careful with the latch on Gerald’s cage in the future.”
She said nothing, lost in thought about the arrangement - his bed, his sheets, the scent of him. The intimacy of it all and being surrounded by his endless trinkets and notebooks and photographs and him. She wouldn’t be able to meet his eye at breakfast, “If you’re sure?”
“Gerald will be evicted by morning and all shall return to normal,” he declared, jumping up and marching over to the wardrobe, rummaging through the thick wedges of woollen jumpers and cardigans, “Let me gather a few things so I won’t have to disturb you again, and I’ll be out of your hair!” He bustled about the room collecting a chaotic assortment of clothes, books and seemingly random bits and bobs like a tornado.
Audrey nodded to herself, eyes following Siegfried bounce around the room – she wasn’t feeling very tired at all anymore. Her hearth was hammering in her chest and her brain was too busy to wish for sleep now - maybe her back would manage on the settee after all-
“-Right,” he said finally, “I’m off.” He waddled slowly towards the door, arms cradling a mass of items, “Uh,” He stopped in the doorway and glanced shyly back, “I’m sorry – about this,” avoiding eye contact like a guilty golden retriever.
“It’s fine,” she choked out, though her throat was incredibly dry all of a sudden. “I hope the living room will be comfortable enough.” Worrying now if it really would – Siegfried had his own age-related aches and pains these days.
“It will suffice,” he smiled warmly, taking in the sight of her perched on his bed, “Goodnight, Audrey.” His voice was soft and if she wasn’t mistaken, there was a nervous tremble behind it.
“Goodnight, Mr Farnon,” she replied, breath hitching at his use of her name. She smiled politely as he pulled the door closed with a gentle click.
Audrey sat still for a moment and listened to his clattering footsteps retreat down the stairs before sliding fully into the bed, drawing the cotton sheets up to beneath her chin. She reached over and clicked the lamp off and exhaled, curling into herself. She felt so small in this larger, empty bed.
This was going to be a long night, she thought, breathing in the scent of peppermint, tea - and Siegfried.