January 25th, 1891 — Finch Home, Wellingtonshire

After spending the morning steeling himself for what he expected to be a very volatile conversation with Melody, Ben had finally flooed back home. He had his reasons all laid out in his mind, and he expected to tick them off to her just as Aldous had done when explaining his options. They might not get through the whole list before she interrupted, but it didn't matter. This was what was best for both of them, he thought. What they were doing now was toxic, and neither of them were happy. Living apart would give them some much needed space, and it was everything Melody had wanted from marriage: independence, freedom to do as she pleased, no overbearing fathers or husbands dictating her every move. It was everything she wanted except love, that was, but Ben couldn't give her that. He'd spent too long pretending that maybe he could, someday; it wasn't happening and it was time to move on.

Only when he went to knock on her bedroom door to tell her, she wasn't there. Neither was the dog, nor any of her things. The room looked like it had been burgled. Her clothes were missing from the wardrobe, her stationary from the desk, her toiletries from the bathroom. Melody was gone.

For a moment he merely stood dumbly in her room, trying to think what to do next. She didn't have anywhere to go; that was the whole reason he wouldn't entertain the idea of divorce. So she'd probably done something ridiculous and stupid, in true Melody fashion. She still had this romantic but entirely foolish idea that she could survive living on the streets if she needed to, and that was probably what she'd gone off to do. Hopefully no one had seen her yet. Stupid fucking Melody and her melodramatics, Ben thought. He'd finally landed on a solution, a way that they could see themselves through the other side of this, and she was off trying to ruin it before he'd even had a chance to communicate it to her.

He sat down on her bed with a heavy sigh and tried to put himself in her shoes, to figure out where she would have gone first. It could have been anywhere, conceivably, though she wasn't so stupid that she was likely to run off and throw herself into poverty without at least asking her friends or family for support first. Unfortunately, Ben only knew of one or two of her friends, and not so well that he knew which of them were most likely to harbor her in the event of something like this, and he was loathe to let on that anything was amiss if they hadn't seen his wife.

The Finches, on the other hand, were unlikely to say anything while it might still reflect poorly on their younger daughter, and it wasn't as though they could possibly think any less of him.

He flooed to Aldous' home, then walked to Wellingtonshire. Both of his brothers were working already, so no one questioned him about how it had gone. He was hardly looking forward to approaching the Finch house, but he had to find Melody. If she was there, he didn't even really care if she came home or not; so long as she wasn't planning on throwing herself to the wolves on the streets of London, she could live wherever she pleased. He could send her an allowance at the first of the month, if that was what she wanted, and that would check the box on his obligations as a husband.

As he approached the house his eyes slid up to the window of her bedroom, wondering if she was inside. He'd been to that window a few times before, always with disastrous consequences. He'd never been to the front door, but was hoping this meeting would end a little less catastrophically. Even so, he was so nervous his insides felt like a bundle of squirming insects. He'd never actually met Melody's parents — it hadn't come up during the summer he'd been flirting with her, and after his trip to Canada he'd gone out of his way to avoid them, which was easy to do when their social circles were inherently so different.

He was shown in to a parlor and told Mrs. Finch would be with him shortly. He didn't sit, but instead stood by the fireplace alternatively balling his hands into nervous fists and then flexing his fingers out. The door opened behind him and Ben jumped slightly, then turned quickly towards the woman who'd entered.

"Ah, good morning, Mrs. Finch," he said quickly, wondering if it was appropriate to shake her hand or bow or what. "I'm Ben Crouch."

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Mr. Finch was unaware of Melody's visit the evening before and thankfully he'd left the house by the time Mr. Crouch called upon them. Anything related to Melody's marriage troubles was best kept away from him. Even though Marianne had the reputation of being the 'mean' parent, Mr. Finch would have been less understanding for Melody's woes. He'd always been closer to their son than any of the girls.

Under different circumstances, Marianne would have never accepted Reuben Crouch in her house. She wanted nothing to do with the man who'd stolen her daughter's honour. However, Marianne knew that this had something to do with the fight that had brought Melody to her doorstep the day before. Melody must not have returned home the day before and he'd come looking for her. Or maybe Melody had gone and done something foolish and dramatic, like hurt herself?

The mere thought made her heartbeat race, so she pushed the thoughts away, just as Reuben Crouch entered the room.

What an uninspiring man. He had a handsome face, but he was otherwise unimposing. He seemed miserable, too, confirming Marianne's theory that he'd spent his time after the fight drinking and moping. Was this man truly that better than Mr. St. John-Black? Was he worth seducing (as Melody had admitted to the night before) and eloping with?

Marianne would have only seduced a man if he was the Victorian equivalent of Jeff Bezos.

"I know who you are, Mr. Crouch," Marianne replied sweetly as she moved to take a seat. She waited for a bit, just to make him uncomfortable, before gesturing to a seat opposite of her. "What brings you here today?"

  

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Ben had no desire to sit down. It implied he was going to be staying long enough that he ought to be sitting, and the idea made him wildly uncomfortable. After she'd sat, though, he didn't think he had much choice. It would have been strange to talk down to her while she was sitting, and he didn't want to offend her after she'd gestured to a chair. He was under no illusion that any of the Finches would ever like him, but if Melody had been here it might mean that she was one step closer to bringing the gap with her family, after they'd burned bridges a year ago. Ben knew how lost he would have been without Aldous to pull him out of the gutter (thankfully never literally, yet), and he wanted Melody to have someone like that — so for her sake, he was going to be on his best behavior. He sat, though only on the edge of the chair. He was quite obviously uncomfortable.

"I'm looking for my wife," he said honestly; no time to play games or mince words. "Has she been here? Today or last night?"

  

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"And why should I have better knowledge as to the whereabouts of your wife than you yourself, Mr. Crouch?" Marianne inquired with slight sarcasm. "After all, she is technically no one to me." Even though she was kind of on Mr. Crouch's side as to who was in the wrong in regards to that fight of theirs, she wasn't going to make it easy for him.

She sighed, before saying. "I do not even know you, but you are so predictable, Mr. Crouch. I told her that you couldn't have gone far."

  

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Ben's mouth drew to a tight line as Mrs. Finch spoke. He refused to believe that she really felt Melody was no one to her, but of course that was the public story. Between that and the open criticisms of him, he thought he knew what she was trying to do. She was baiting him, and he didn't plan on rising to it. He wasn't here to fight her (and what would be the point of that, anyway? what could he possibly have gained?) He was here to find Melody, so that he could explain how things were going to be, moving forward. He just needed to keep his cool long enough to let her know. If she wanted to talk it over, she could come back home and find him there.

"So she's here?" he asked tersely.

  

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"She was here," Marianne replied. If he'd come here looking for Melody, it meant she hadn't returned home. Marianne hadn't asked her where she would go after their conversation, assuming that her daughter would have returned home. Where else could have Melody possibly gone?

A thought flashed in Marianne's head.

"I have reason to suspect she might have paid a call to your sister, Mr. Crouch. She had certain news to share with her, you see." Perhaps it'd be for the best if she broke the news of Melody's pregnancy to Mr. Crouch. He couldn't abandon her that easily if he knew that her mother knew as well. Or so Marianne hoped.

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Ben's shoulder slumped slightly at her first sentence. If Melody had already come and gone, he was back to square one. Mrs. Finch didn't seem as though she was in the mood to be of any help. He supposed he couldn't have expected a warm welcome and open collaboration, but he'd thought the news that her daughter was currently missing might have inspired Mrs. Finch to be slightly more charitable. He'd been mistaken, it seemed. He would never understand the Finch family, but he was glad that his interactions with them had been so few and far between so far. If Melody hadn't been disowned, he might have had to come here for dinners and pretend to play nice, and that would have been awful — so that was the silver lining there, he supposed. This would likely be his last conversation with Mrs. Finch, in addition to being his first.

Her second sentence put his head spinning, though. Melody, go see Nova? Certainly not. She had never been particularly friendly with any of his siblings, but if she was going to go to anyone it wouldn't have been to November. Ben didn't think either of them had gotten over the Miss Finch remark from their first dinner party. And what did she mean, certain news to share with her?

"I think you must be mistaken," he said tensely, torn between wanting to end this conversation and wanting her to explain what she'd meant.

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"Oh..." Marianne trailed off, her eyebrows furrowing in feigned confusion. "I thought you knew."

She paused for a bit. Outwardly it appeared as though she was perplexed, but truly Marianne's head was creating the best possible way to present the information to Mr. Crouch. She was aiming to do it in such a way, that she would strike a cord in his heart. Make him feel guilty and make her daughter appear the slighted martyr.

"She came here hysterical, Mr. Crouch. I couldn't very well understand what had happened, at first. She told me you had a fight about some baby and that you left. She told me she is with child and how scared she was that her child — your child might grow up without his father!" She stared at him solemnly. "I suggested she visit your sister... As a woman, she would be understanding of her plight."

That was most certainly not what had happened, but what harm could it do to imply that Mr. Crouch had been intimidated by his looming responsibilities and left to go drinking? He wouldn't want to appear the man who abandoned his pregnant wife, if not for Melody, then for his family's sake. Even if he abandoned her, his family would be forced to support her.

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Ben wasn't buying this I thought you knew business, and he remained tense on the edge of the chair. This was another attempt to get a rise out of him, he thought. Implying that he was a terrible husband who ought to be keeping better track of his wife, implying that he was too much of a rake or a drunk to understand what was going on in his own house. Well, she could say what she wanted, and think what she wanted. He just wanted to know if Melody had been here, and he'd gotten his answer. He could head back to the Irvingly house and regroup, collect his thoughts and maybe look for some clue as to where she had gone and plan out his next move from there. He just needed to extricate himself from this conversation now, in the quickest and most polite way possible.

He kept his expression pointedly neutral as Mrs. Finch launched into an explanation of what had happened the night before. She was using words like hysterical to stir him up, and he refused to let it happen. He'd listen, maybe find some indication buried within her words of where his wife might have disappeared to, and then he'd say goodbye and he'd be done with Mrs. Finch forever.

And then she said she is with child. Ben's mind stopped working, his thoughts scattered to the wind like so many seeds. Scared she was that her child — the color had drained from his cheeks, eyes widening slightly — your child...

He didn't even hear the rest. His ears were ringing. When he eventually felt he could speak, the only word he managed was, "What?"

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"She is with child, Mr. Crouch," Marianne repeated simply. "You are going to be a father."

She clasped her hands on her lap and straightened her back a bit as she continued to look at him. The man looked as though she'd told him that his parents had died. He didn't strike her as happy in any case.

His and Melody's marriage must have really been on the brink of ruin. Such was the case of marriage built upon passion and love. Love was all but a chemical reaction of the brain, tricking fools into thinking that they'd found 'the one'. No such person existed, not in that case, that was. Wise men picked their mate with the future in mind and not based on how they felt at the moment.

Of course, they were all going through this dramatic mess right now.

"It's quite alright, Mr. Crouch. Mr. Finch was just as shocked when I informed him that we were expecting our Maisie," she added cordially. After her twisted version of what had happened, it'd be good for her to appear on his side. "I assured Melody that your shock wouldn't last for long and that she needn't fret so much about you. You will excuse my daughter, I hope, she is only but a girl."

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   Aldous Crouch

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The white noise hadn't gone away, and Ben was struggling to hear and understand her words over the constant roar in his ears. Mrs. Finch didn't know what she was talking about. Melody was anything but an innocent young girl, sitting at home fretting over him.

"That's impossible," he said, shakily. "She can't be." They'd been using protection. After the terrible experience of Paris, neither of them had been ready to face the possibility of children again. They'd been diligent about using it ever since, even though Ben hated having to deal with the mess of it. There had only been one time when they hadn't. The beginning of the year, when they'd tentatively made amends after the stress of the holiday and the divorce conversation and everything else. His last real attempt to mend things.

So he supposed it was possible.

Fuck.

"Where is she?" he demanded, rising from his chair. He didn't have time for this pandering conversation about fucking Maisie, not if what she'd said was true.

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"I do not know, Mr. Crouch," Marianne replied, taking back the cordial tone she'd used earlier. "If I knew my daughter's whereabouts at all times, we probably wouldn't be speaking here at this moment."

Melody had begged for them to attend that ball last year. If only she'd yielded and not allowed for them to go, none of this would have happened. Melody would be Mrs. St. John-Black and she would likely be better off than she was now.

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Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"I'm using your floo," he declared, crossing towards the fireplace without a backwards look at Mrs. Finch. It was an imposition, but he didn't have time to walk anywhere (or to say proper goodbyes) and he certainly did not trust himself with apparition at the moment. Luckily, he highly doubted Mrs. Finch would be familiar enough with the Pettigrew address to catch where he was going.

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   Jupiter Smith

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What a rude man! Marianne gasped as he took a handful of the bright green dust, threw it in the fireplace, and declared some Irvingly address. (Presumably his own?)

She called for a maid to clean up the mess he'd left behind.

  

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