”Miss Skovgaard,” He replied, his expression sober. As he reflected on the events at the Sanditon. Poor Mr. and Mrs. Thompsett who had not even had a chance when the hurricane hit. Though he believed her to be an accomplished healer, he could recognize the guilt that he had often felt when he lost someone in the midst of a case reflected in her eyes. The pain was evident, regret even more so.

”You did very well on Sunday.” He said. ”I know I’m neither your superior nor someone who has known you long enough to even begin to gain your esteem,” Why was there a swooping sensation in his stomach once he said that? ”But I’ve seen more accomplished healers deal with far less pressure and being unable to operate under as much grace as you did.” He’d been in that position during the days preceding the death of his wife. Pain briefly flashed across his expression before he settled his features, and gave her a wan smile.

”There was nothing you could do to save Mrs. Thompsett from her fate, nor Mr. Thompsett from the pain of losing his wife.” His words were quiet - pointed, but empathetic all the same, knowing that he had been in a similar position Mr. Thompsett was in.

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   Fallon Gillespie

His eyes were alert on her, solemn as if he truly did understand. The tone and that look pulled her eyes to his, instructed her to listen. So she did. It did nothing to cool her cheeks, indeed, she found that something in her chest almost did a leap of surprise as he mentioned gaining her esteem. He thought he needed to gain her esteem? He had saved her life at least three times in the course of one evening, he had been nothing but a gentleman, and he thought he hadn't gained her esteem? Her eyes closed in an owl like blink before focusing on him again - on the praise. She went entirely warm at those words and found she could no longer hold his gaze, dropping it down to his hands and then braving a shy glance up to see... pain.

Malou swallowed, surprised by that, her mind sorting through every word her godmother had ever mentioned about the eldest Mr. Prewett and realizing with a small start where that look had come from. His wife. She didn't know much other than she had passed but she could guess that he loved his wife. Based on how many times she had seen that look at loved ones in the hospital, and then again Saturday night, she could hardly think otherwise. And if she had doubted it then Mr. Prewett's next words would have erased it.

"It doesn't make it any easier." Malou admitted, looking down at her hands. She could still hear Mrs. Bagshot's animated tones and Mr. Bagshot's answering rumble behind her. Perhaps it was the fact they could not hear, or perhaps it was because it was odd to find someone to confide in, who might understand. Whatever the reason, Malou found herself turning over the words before she laid them before Mr. Prewett. "I went into healing to make sure no one else ever felt that pain again." Her normally quiet voice had gotten quieter, her gaze on her gloves in her lap, she bit the inside of her lip in hesitation before she tried to finish her thought, "Every patient I lose...." Malou swallowed, braved his gaze again, there was unguarded pain on her face this time. "Feels like I failed." It was the raw truth, one not meant for parlors or social calls. One that she kept hidden even from Fallon. If Fallon even suspected how tied up Malou's grief was in healing well... Malou did not wish to make her friend worry like that.

  

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Again.

Which meant she'd experienced some of the same pain before the Sanditon if preventing further heartbreak and pain had been her calling to become a healer. It does not make it easier. It never will. The words on his lips died as he was struck by the amount of emotion that had flooded Miss Skovgaard's expression. She already knew this, and yet she still continued on as if she carried the weight of the world across her shoulders. Faustus nodded silently as he regarded her, quite touched at the obvious amount of empathy the healer had for her patients.

He supposed that it was the nature of a healer or any service profession. Every case that came close to mirroring his own life circumstances was harder to distance himself from, and he felt a personal duty to see those through until the end. Whether this visit had been fueled by duty or true concern for Miss Skovgaard was a different matter entirely. Regarding her with a tender look, Faustus responded softly, "When one deals with the possibility of death, we cannot place the blame solely on ourselves, Miss Skovgaard." He thought of Jane and the devastation that had reigned him in the weeks following her death. "We may be extraordinarily gifted beings, but we are still mortal."

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The silence should have felt awkward but instead with that one silent nod Malou felt as if he had entirely understood every word she had said. The look on his face was gentle, more than gentle, but Malou couldn't place it. It calmed her though, took the edge of nerves off and reminded her that she could trust Mr. Prewett.

At his words she gave him a soft smile that faded quickly, she appreciated the words, the sentiments that laid behind them. How right he was, her religious upbringing reminded her. Her faith the one thing that kept her sane in situations like this. The knowledge that someone else held the wheel and she was a prideful being to think she might keep another from death. "You are right, Mr. Prewett. Yet it does little to ease the ache for the ones left behind." Her accent was just a bit stronger with the emotion tugging at her, with the memories that had begun to spring to mind. She knew he could understand that, the pain of being the one left behind.

When she had arrived at the hospital on Monday the first thing she had done had been to check on Mr. Thompsett. She had suspected that Mrs. Thompsett had been a mother, but she had gone further and enquired after his family. Three children. Three children who now were motherless. Two were still in school. Malou's heart had twisted at the thought. She had wanted to write them a note but knew nothing to make it better. Instead Tuesday night she had baked a batch of cookies and sent a prayer book with a small note of her sorrow at their mother's passing. It would do nothing to help the children, but it had helped her own guilty soul. She almost mentioned the Thompsetts to Mr. Prewett but recalled the recognition in Mr. Prewett's voice when he had helped her with Mr. Thompsett. He likely was close enough to know the family, she didn't wish to cause him any additional pain by bringing it up.

"Whatever are you talking of? Your much too solemn for tea." Mrs. Bagshot's bright voice broke into their conversation as she swirled in a blue satin around the couch and perched on a chair just as a maid set the tea service in front of them. She turned to look at Malou, "Would you mind serving the tea, my dear?" Malou's dainty hands reached for the silver kettle and poured the tea into each mug, "Do you take cream or sugar, Mr. Prewett?" Malou may have chosen an unconvential path for life but she had certainly been trained for occasions like since she had been a small child. Now she hardly noticed her own actions of such an activity. Her hand paused over the cream, suspecting he likely did not take sugar in his tea.

  

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It was only when she smiled ever so slightly at him did he realize how much he wished to lift her spirits. Faustus could see the subject was rather distressing, and he couldn't help but feel that he'd caused it in some way, especially with his comment about Death. He felt his own cheeks begin to redden slightly, though he was immediately saved by the voice of Mrs. Bagshot slicing through the air, and he realized that he'd leaned forward as he'd spoken to Miss Skovgaard. Adjusting his posture, he watched as the tea was brought in and he watched as the healer picked up the teapot to serve.

At her question, he shook his head. "Only a little cream, thank you." He replied, smiling at her as she handed him the cup. He took a teaspoon to stir the milk in and had opened his mouth to ask Mrs. Bagshot a question to include her in on the conversation when she picked up her teacup and bustled right back over to her husband to hand him a cup too. Faustus blinked, slightly perplexed before he glanced at Miss Skovgaard.

Well, if it was to be that they would continue their private conversation, then far be it from him to attempt to prevent it. Setting down the spoon, Faustus took a sip. "Forgive me, but might I inquire as to how you and the Bagshot's are related?" He asked, glancing up to the couple, still chattering away as ever at the piano. Obviously, Miss Skovgaard didn't share their name, but they were considered quite sufficient as chaperones. And there was the matter of she mentioned she had a roommate, which caused him to be a bit more than puzzled by her living situation especially if Mrs. Bagshot had led him to believe she lived here in Wellingtonshire.

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At the mention of the cream Malou's lips twitched into a small smile that she tried to hide, pleased that she had guessed right. She poured a small amount of cream into his mug before handing it to him. Then she delicately added a cube of sugar to Mrs. Bagshot's with a healthy helping of cream. Mr. Bagshot preferred his with no cream or sugar she had learned years ago so she left his alone. To her own she indulged in two sugar cubes and cream. At home she rarely put sugar in her tea, it was a luxury she could live with out, but at her godmother's ... well she allowed herself her sweet tooth there.

Mrs. Bagshot headed back to her husband without further comment, which both surprised Malou and made her suspicious of what her godmother was up to. Not that she hadn't been already.

She was distracted from her thoughts by his question. "Oh," Malou was quite use to this question. After all she could hardly claim to share a name with them, nor a native tongue, nor even looks. "Mrs. Bagshot is my godmother. " She took a sip of her tea. It was the practiced answer and normally she said no more, but well, perhaps it was how the conversation had gone before Mrs. Bagshot stepped in, but Malou found herself needing to explain. "She was my mother's best friend, as close to an aunt as I've ever known." Malou glanced over her shoulder at Mrs. Bagshot fondness in her gaze. She was the closest thing Malou had to family aside from Fallon.

  

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Her godmother. He’d suspected as much but didn’t want to presume anything in the chance that he was wrong. But that perhaps explained why she might be under the care of someone else who was not her parents. Faustus looked to the couple who had taken a brief pause from their chatter to indulge in their tea. Perhaps sensing a pause in the conversation, Mrs. Bagshot’s gaze slid to Faustus and he smiled kindly at her before directing his attention back to Miss Skovgaard again. This next question…he wondered if it would be too impertinent to ask. Miss Skovgaard barely knew him after all, and he could easily have miscalculated their last few seconds together before the tea arrived. But…“And your parents?”

It was a quietly worded question, one that he hoped to convey absolutely no obligation to answer. Indeed, after the words had left his mouth he inwardly winced, and he watched her carefully for her reaction.

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It wasn't an entirely unexpected question. There had been those who had come out with her in society that summer who knew what happened, but as the years had passed and the social circles had changed each season her story had faded into obscurity. She was a fixture at events, someone they knew the name of, but as she was no longer a real contender in their games most didn't take the time to find out her past. It suited her that way. Even if it did hurt when people asked. It was more of a dull ache these days, rather than the broken bleeding wound it had been in those early years.

"They passed away shortly after I graduated." Malou's voice was gentle with the old memories. Many ladies would have said after they had debuted, which was the truth, but to Malou her graduation had been important. Not the season that had already seen her in the trusted hands of Mrs. Bagshot.

Suspecting his next question Malou found herself adding after she had taken a small sip of tea, "I was already spending the season with Mrs. Bagshot when we got the news, since then she has become the only family I really have." Perhaps it was too much to tell Mr. Prewett, but it was a truth that Malou wouldn't shy from. Yes, her uncle still lived on the family home in Denmark, but he hardly counted. She received her meager allowance through muggle mail and no additional word from him. Every year she sent him a holiday card and a letter on his birthday. But there was never a response nor ever one sent on its own. Having not seen him in almost a decade she could hardly count him as close family especially not after never hearing from him.

  

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So it was as he suspected. Faustus looked down at his teacup, watching the swirl of the tea as he listened to her response. And she hadn't even been able to say goodbye to them, a pain which Faustus himself had known all too well. Before he'd taken the hand of his late wife, she had been long since departed, and the pain of it was only soothed by the fact that he had born a son. "I'm terribly sorry, Miss Skovgaard." He murmured gently, looking from his tea to her again.

A small smile quirked at his lips, though it wasn't terribly humorous. "It's so dreadful, not being able to say goodbye." But then, of course, he didn't have to say that, as it was evident they had both had to live through that experience. After a weighted pause in which he ran the pad of his thumb along the side of the teacup, Faustus spoke again. "And Im sorry to have brought the conversation down." He gave her another wan smile. "I shall promise that next time I won't bring up such painful memories for you. Especially after the weekend you've had."

The words just slipped out, surprising him, but in equal measure also making him realize that he would very much like to see Miss Skovgaard again.

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Malou took a sip of her tea, focusing on the warmth and comfort it brought to her. Her mother had always loved tea time. She had delighted in teaching Malou how to drink and serve tea, what to say and what to do. Not that Malou had been particularly good at the conversation part of it. Pulling herself out of the riptide of thoughts she murmured, "Thank you."

At his words Malou looked up, the words were full of understanding. "Indeed." She agreed. The last time she had seen her parents had been Christmas of her seventh year. She had never expected it would be the last time. She could easily remember the smell of gingerbread, her mother's voice singing as Malou played carols on the piano, her father laughing over his whiskey and cigars. The smells and sounds enveloped her like her mother's hugs once had. To her that last break had been what home was. The very essence of it. She had known she wouldn't be home for a long time yet, especially if she pursued the internship at St. Mungo's, but it had felt like home would always be there waiting with open arms for her. It had been the biggest lie of her life.

She returned his smile and might have retorted if it hadn't been for two little words... next time. He wanted to see her again? Malou's heart started to beat faster and again a blush bloomed on her cheeks. There was no chance of a future together, but Malou selfishly was happy he wanted to see her again. That meant it wasn't just duty that had brought him here which was something she did not wish to unpack at the moment. Instead she looked at him with a gentle smile, "And I shall return the favor." He hadn't told her, but she had seen it in her face, she knew enough to know the pain he had suffered as well.

  

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Had he not mentioned that he would have liked to see her again, perhaps he might have thought further about asking her about her parents. After all it wasn’t the most polite thing to do especially when just beginning to know someone. But then again, Faustus was sorely out of practice. His work had always provided him with ample opportunities to practice professional conversation, so it was the more personal aspect of conversation that he found himself so severely lacking.

Thankfully Miss Skovgaard did not seem too offended by this. Indeed the flush that he saw flooding her cheeks spoke to the exact opposite of offended, and he found himself rather relieved. ”I rather look forward to it.” he said, sipping his tea. While a few more questions had sprung to mind, he didn’t want to push further than he already had. Perhaps the next time they spoke would be a better opportunity, he mused, for he would have very much liked to simply get to know Miss Skovgaard better.

“I hope you will be able to get some rest between now and then,” he added, his smile reaching his eyes this time as they drifted away from topics of the macabre.

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Eyes widen slightly in surprise Malou found herself softly uttering the truth, her whole body seeming to go uncomfortably warm, "As am I." A bashful smile spread over her full lips. To hide her embarassment Malou ducked her head down and took a sip of tea, she could feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest.

Polite as ever Malou looked up from her teacup as he spoke. A smile had spread over his face, how handsome he was when he smiled like that. Was that the smile he gave his children? "Only if you do as well." She gave him her best stern healer's stare but soon found her own smile answering his own. Doubtful that either of them would. "Although, I suspect my words fall on deaf ears." She was teasing him, Malou realized with a shock. It was as if someone had taken over her face and was speaking for her. Oh how foolish, she wished she could take the words back. They were horribly assuming in farmiliarity, yet it was just the thing she might tease Fallon about. She hoped he didn'tt notice the reddening of her cheeks at her forwardness.

  

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His smile dropped ever so slightly as she fixed him with quite a formidable stare, and he briefly ran through the growing list of items that he'd placed in the back of his mind that he might have said to offend her. But then her smile reappeared and he realized she'd been joking. He laughed then; partially to release the sudden nervousness he'd felt out of fear he'd offended her and partially because their conversation had provided him with the evidence that neither of them would be likely to take a day off in the next few days. "Deaf ears indeed, Miss Skovgaard," He said, still chuckling as he placed his empty teacup down. "Your healer's instincts do you credit!"

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His laugh was rich in the air, filling the room in a way that Malou marveled at. Her's was always quiet as if unsure she should even be laughing in the first place and as such trying to take up as little room as possible in the air. She smiled at him in response, a true smile. "Indeed, although I rather wish you would rest - as a healer." She added quickly. "I do trust you recovered alright from the ordeal?" The ordeal where he had been harmed in the sake of saving Malou several times over. How had she not asked already? She knew the answer, it was the healer in her that had looked him over when he first came in assessing if he was indeed alright. She was fairly certain he wouldn't have told her if he were having any lingering pain, so the question seemed pointless. But still, it meant something to voice it, some type of politeness, a kindness, an ... interest.

As if their laughs had drawn her Mrs. Bagshot drifted back through the room, there was pride in her eyes, Malou was surprised to see, she settled herself on her chair again and began inquiring about Mr. Prewett's mother and aunt, asking him to send her regards with him, hoping that all were well after the dreadful weekend. Malou placed her saucer on the table and was content to watch the exchange.

Normally she disliked her godmother's machinations, but this time.... well this Malou was quite certain the small smile that seemed etched into the corner of her lips wouldn't fade at the thought of Mrs. Bagshot's meddling. He wanted to see her again. The thought warmed her, made everything else seem small.

  

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Though she was the healer among them, Faustus had to push back the urge to turn the question back onto her - she’d answered it, after all, but he did not have the utmost confidence in her colleagues, despite having been tended to by them with no complaints before this moment. “I shall endeavor to rest more,” he replied with a grin. No doubt she would ask the next time they saw each other. “But I hope you can rest easy knowing that I’ve quite recovered.”That was partially true. He was unlikely to let her know how worried he’d been for her when he realized he wouldn’t be able to see her until today. And he most certainly would not let his mother know this fact either. He could only imagine the meddling that would take place after the fact, especially since Mrs. Bagshot ran in the same circles as his mother and Hermione.

Talking of Mrs. Bagshot - she had drifted over to chat with Faustus inquiring after Harriet and Hermione to which Faustus responded in kind that he would pass her good wishes onto them. Though Faustus dutifully turned his full attention to Mrs. Bagshot, his gaze would occasionally flicker back to Miss Skovgaard, a small smile tugging at his lips as he did so.

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Malou would rest easier at his assurances, she realized, her face softening in the relief she couldn't say as Mrs. Bagshot joined them.

The rest of tea passed amiably as Mrs. Bagshot and Mr. Prewett spoke of this or that. For the first time in a long time Malou found that she was enjoying a social call. Her eyes sneaking glances at Mr. Prewett as she sipped her second cup of tea, the occasional murmur of agreement all that was required to her.

  

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