24th June, 1892 — Midsummer Night’s Ball, London

This ballroom was as magically romantic as they came, which was why Jemima had been so pleased to see Jack Humphrey-Mavis here tonight, and to have a dance with him. She saw him from time to time, but what with his being a quidditch player and not yet a bachelor at an age to be thinking of marriage, he couldn’t be counted upon at every event – and possibly Jemima ought not to be wasting so much of her time looking out of him, but the truth was she found his company much too fun to ever quite forget him.

Or that time he had been so obliging as to kiss her. Strange that it should have made her more confident, more comfortable, in his company than she had used to be before, but it had. So making conversation as they danced had been delightfully easy, and the fluttery feeling in her chest merely lending itself to making the most of being in close proximity – although Jemima was unseasonably disappointed when none of those clouds had whisked them up and away during their dance. That would have been terribly romantic. She had kept waiting and hoping and glancing at the clouds, but no, no, this was to be an ordinary dance after all, and it was already coming to a close. What a waste.

“It’s really rather warm in here, isn’t it?” Jemima remarked, all innocence.

---

Jack Humphrey-Mavis/Clarissa Cosgrove

  

---

Jack was quite fascinated by this Midsummers Night theme. The hostess had outdone herself on the decor. Some people were being whisked up on clouds to dance in some form of privacy while still maintaining proper decorum.

That did not seem to be his and Miss Farley's fate, however. She had been a sort of constant presence in his life for three years now. She was fun, amusing and a little flirty. Things Jack Humphrey-Mavis was not immune to.

He chuckled when she spoke of how warm it was. "Quite. Perhaps we should get some air on the veranda if there is one to be found. Or a turn about the gardens."

  

---

He had gotten her drift, then; she smiled daintily at his chuckling. And she ought not to be so eager to agree, for she did not want to look like she was angling for privacy (she was angling for privacy), but she kept her arm on his to be escorted and fanned herself with her other gloved hand, in case anyone happened to be watching.

Ladies felt faint all the time, it was fine.

“The gardens would be lovely,” Jemima agreed, her pulse picking up rapidly enough that she might begin to feel faint if it kept on that way. “If the flowers inside are any indication, I suppose the garden will be awfully picturesque,” she commented, just to fill the silence with idle chatter. (She knew perfectly well she was not going to be looking at the flowers.)

---

  

---

Jack didn't see how there would be any issue in taking the young woman out into the gardens. Granted, most of the folks there were promenading which was something Jack was not yet in a position to be doing. But whatever.

"It would be quite the letdown if they aren't," Jack agreed as he walked her out into the gardens. "How have you been keeping, Miss Farley?"

  

---

The gardens, at first glance, were delightful. “Oh, well enough,” she answered brightly, but now they were already a dance in and not under the bright light of the ballroom, Jemima let her expression dip a little in honesty. It was her second season, and she had made little progress – this would not have been so disheartening if she were not lagging so far behind her own imagination. She had thought she might be engaged by now. Courting, at least. Since she was not, she was beginning to find the Season a rather cold and lonely affair.

“I never thought I would ever tire of balls, but I have found myself,” Jemima murmured, glancing at him sidelong as a little warmth came to her cheeks, “wishing for a little more – excitement.” (Admittedly, hopefully not in last year’s Sanditon disaster sort of way.)

“Oh, camellias!” Jemima exclaimed, gesturing at the bush blossoming with pink – although, if she strolled up to them with a happy sigh on pretence of having a closer look, it was also because they were more sheltered from the windows’ view. She leant in to turn one of the flowers towards her in her hand, and then glanced up again to see whether Mr. Humphrey-Mavis was still close at hand. Belatedly, she returned the question to him with a small, teasing smile. “And you?”

---

  

---

Jack was sensitive enough to notice the contradiction in her following expression despite her bright answer. He could understand what she was saying. He supposed he was lucky in that most of the time he went to events just because he felt like it since he was not technically considered to be a bachelor yet. He supposed women must not have the same sort of autonomy since they had so much pressure to marry young.

He chuckled as she gestured a camellia bush and followed her over to it. "And what, pray tell, would make things more exciting for you?" He asked before smiling at her question and taking her hand into his. He kissed the back of it before answering her question with an equally teasing smile. "I enjoy these societal events so much more when they come with the chance to run into you."

  

---

Oh, but she could count on him to know how to cheer her up. Jack Humphrey-Mavis did not have the same troubles as her, since his youth – as a man – allowed him not to take everything quite so seriously, which in turn allowed him to have some free time for her. (If he were looking for a wife, she doubted he would look twice at her, she knew that – but, nonetheless, she was not complaining about his present attentions.)

Her mouth twitched upwards again as he took her hand, though she was trying, at least a little, to play it cool. It didn’t last a moment before her stomach did a customary somersault. “You already know just what to say to make things more exciting for me,” Jemima protested, eyes alight. Her lips parted slightly when he kissed the back of her hand; impatiently. “And just what to do,” she added hopefully, turning away from the camellias entirely to better lean towards him.

---

  

---

Jack chuckled in response to the young womans words. Miss Farley had a way of making an otherwise dull evening quite amusing. He was sure that she was likely also aware of that given how often they tended to interact.

Jack could take a hint when it was right in front of him. So he made a cursory glance to ensure that there were no eyes on them. Satisfied that there were not, Jack brushed a hand against the young womans cheek as he leaned in to kiss her.

  

---

She had done much the same glance around to be sure they were alone, but even those fears about being caught and ruined and disgraced as an utter hussy were faint in her head, all turned to a light, fizzy thrill of excitement instead. And it was just kissing, though his thumb brushing her cheek and that first kiss only seemed to open up more of a fervour for it.

She didn’t know if that was usual, to feel such a hunger for it – Jack was here, but he always seemed placid and kind and respectful towards her; and that was nice too, she could hardly complain about that – but if she stretched up and wound her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss a little, it was because she still wanted to feel closer to him, wanted the contact almost desperately. (Was that too much? Was that dreadfully bad of her? Jack had said he enjoyed her company.)

---

  

---

Jack felt that familiar thrill rush through him as the young woman stretched up and wound her arms around his neck. This was a dangerous line, that he knew. But resisting a woman that clearly had affection and attraction to him - that he returned - was not something that was one of his strengths. His hands settled on her waist as he deepened the kiss even more, leaving him breathless as he managed to pull away.

  

---

When he pulled back, Jemima dropped her hands and exhaled, her breaths rising and falling heavily in her chest too. Oh. She kept feeling it even now it had ended: his mouth on hers, his hands on her waist, the heat on her cheeks and the senseless greedy fluttering in her stomach.

She twisted her hands together and pressed her lips together, flustered and shy and awfully pleased with herself. “I suppose it turns out it’s rather warm out here too,” Jemima commented with a giggle, daring to tease a little about their excuse for coming outside – for, in spite of all the fresh air, she had to fan herself with her hand for a moment, even her summer gown feeling hot and heavy on her now.

She gazed up at him again, trying to cling to that contented confidence while she possessed it, before the moment inevitably ebbed away and they made some awkward parting. There was a small scar on his face she hadn’t noticed before; without thinking, she reached up and traced her finger over it on his cheekbone.

---

  

---

"It does seem so," Jack said, playing along gleefully. It always did put one in a good mood to get a kiss from a pretty girl. Especially one that was also pleasant in personality such as Miss Farley.

Jack blinked a little and grabbed her hand as it traced his cheekbone, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. "I've had this scar since my Hogwarts days," he informed her. Not that he planned to say how he got it. Not the truth of it anyway.

  

---

“I like it,” Jemima said, of the mysterious little scratch on him. It was nice to know other people had small imperfections, even people as handsome and effortlessly charming as Jack Humphrey-Mavis. “It suits you.”

He had kissed her hand again, though, which summarily distracted her from probing any further. Instead, she felt that pleasant melting feeling again, because this had turned into a perfect summer’s night, and she was wondrously relaxed, so very happy. Her mouth opened before she could stop herself. “Do... do you think you could love me?” Jemima inquired, too brazen by half, with a sudden swell of confidence or desperation or something –

And then she bit her tongue so hard she was sure it would bleed, because she realised that thought had come out aloud, and she couldn’t take it back. (And whatever was anyone supposed to say to something like that?! Jemima wanted to sink into the camellia bush and never re-emerge.)

---

  

---

He chuckled as Miss Farley said she liked his scar and that it suited him. Perhaps he should give the feather fiend that had caused it an extra treat when he headed home.

Whatever he had been expecting Miss Farley to say next certainly had not been that. Oh, he was not quite sure how to answer that. One answer might give hopes that he was not sure yet he wanted her to have of him. The opposite answer would not be entirely true. After all, Jack wasn't a heartless cad and would not have taken up with her flirtations in the first place if he did not at least like her. "I would not be standing here with you if the possibility was not there," he decided on instead, not sure how she might take that.

  

---

Her face had got hot all over, from her neck to her hairline, and not, this time, in a remotely pleasant way. She could practically see poor Mr. Humphrey-Mavis wrestling with what to say to that – why had she ever opened her mouth? – and somehow his endeavouring to be polite about it made Jemima regret it more. If he had laughed in her face it might be easier to bear than this.

Because the answer he cobbled together was – nice. The possibility! Oh, indeed, he liked her well enough. That had already been plenty to hope for; Jemima ought to have guessed that a little bit of kissing was not enough to make anyone love her. (She didn’t know what would ever convince anybody to love her, she considered with a freefalling sensation in her stomach, but that was hardly Jack’s fault –)

“It was a silly question,” Jemima said hastily, cutting off his well-intentioned kindnesses. She pulled her hand back, flustered, out of his, and made a preoccupied show of smoothing out her dress, as if the wrinkles were wrinkles in time by which she might undo her last five actions or more. “Never mind – I drank a little too much champagne –” she let out an unsteady, tittering laugh, “I meant nothing by it – thank you for the –”
She waved a hand between them to say, wildly, kissing, and ducked out from where she had been standing to flee back inside as fast as she could.

---

  

---

This all felt very awkward. "Oh, it wasn't," Jack tried to protest but the damage had been done. He had worded things too poorly for Miss Farley was pulling her hand out of his. Now she was thanking him and he was still a little too dumbfounded to think of words to fix this. He did not want to lose her company.

But alas, there she was, fleeing inside.

Jack thunked his head against the nearest available surface, mentally bemoaning what an idiot he was.

@"Jemima Farley"

The following 1 user Likes Jack Humphrey-Mavis's post:1 user Likes Jack Humphrey-Mavis's post
   Elias Grimstone

---