London, United Kingdom
September 1852

Though doubt haunted her, Jane was hopeful in the days following her husband's unexpected return. Their conversation that day had relieved her of multiple burdens that had long since weighed heavily on her heart, and for the first time in months, she felt at ease in her own home. James was there, he was sober, and he had opened up to her in a way that she never dreamed he would. It was as if the man who went to Edinburgh never returned, and another came back in his place, one who was honest and understanding of his faults and emotions. He had at long last matured into a respectable man that Jane couldn't find reason to fear, and in the weeks following his return, he continued to prove it.

In addition to finding new work to finance their living through investments, James spent a great deal of his time sharpening his mind and body through reading and exercise. He went on long walks most mornings before anyone in the house had risen, always making it home in time to read briefly before breakfast. It was then that his day with Jane would begin.

They would take their breakfast together in the dining room every morning, and Jane would ask James how he had fared on his walk. He would tell her stories of the people he had seen or even something interesting he had read, speaking animatedly about even the smallest detail. Jane didn't know when this had become his custom; nonetheless, she enjoyed the effects it had on him and often wished that she could join him in walking through the empty streets of London. Of course, her condition kept her from doing so, but still, she liked to imagine that she would have enjoyed herself given James's more than favorable account, which taught her more and more about him with each passing day.

He liked the cool quiet of the morning and seeing the way people behaved when they thought no one was there to see them. He liked old buildings and the smell of hot bread seeping through the walls of bakeries that hadn't yet opened their doors. He liked novels and tales of history: of kings, of soldiers, of science. He spoke little of poetry, but Jane quickly discovered that he liked that too; although he tried to hide it, she supposed, because it revealed a soft side that he wasn't quite ready to fully submit to. It was only a matter of time before that happened, however, because as the days went by, Jane saw her husband becoming more and more a man whom she could admire. He embraced change with more will and determination than anyone she had ever met, and despite his history, he was more open with her than even Harry had been. That knowledge was difficult for her to grasp, but nonetheless, it became clear that if things continued as they had during the end of that summer, Jane knew that she was in great danger of having a good life with the last person on earth she ever thought could give it to her.

It was no secret within the household that the two of them had become fast friends since his return, talking of their interests, playing their nightly games of chess, and even laughing together on occasion. It was James's sole delight that they should get along so well, even when opportunities to go into the city were so few. If they could enjoy one another in solitude as they did then, he was sure that once the baby was born and Jane could rejoin the world again, they really could have a grand time of it.

James found himself telling her things he had never dreamed of sharing with anyone, about his father, his mother, and even some of his corrupted friends growing up. If Jane was shocked, she didn't show it, only offering sympathy where sympathy was due and wisdom of interpretation where it was sought after. Despite the uneasiness it had made him feel at first, James trusted her not to judge him, and he felt that he could continue to do so more and more each day. His wife was a woman of sound mind and surprising interest, so much so that he quickly regretted ever dreading marrying her. If only he had seen her virtues then, maybe things could have turned out differently.

However, knowing that there was no use wondering what might have been, James tried not to think of what he might have done differently and instead focused on what he might do differently now that he and Jane were on such amiable terms. He still hadn't had a single sip of alcohol since the day he made the promise to quit, and though it was it was still a struggle for him to resist sometimes when he saw some of his old friends, saying no became easier and easier with each passing day. Jane seemed happy, and if abstaining from alcohol could help preserve that in any way, he surely would continue to do it.

But what was more, James sought to please his wife in everything, even if it meant doing things he didn't want to do so he could spend time with her. He saw her restlessness for having been kept in the house for so long, and he wanted to help her, though truthfully, spending so much time inside was also beginning to wear on him as well. Of course, he knew Jane had it worse though, so he swallowed his annoyance and tried to make her confinement less unbearable. He did this through many activities, but one of his favorites was when they would play chess together every night after dinner.

James didn't particularly like chess, nor was he very good at it, but Jane did, and that was enough reason for him to play. That, and he liked being able to give her some sort of prize when she won, because doing so made her smile, and her smile was something he had grown rather fond of. It was lucky then for him then that he always lost, despite his genuine attempts to best her.

One particular night, however, James thought that for once, he might actually prevail, and even though he liked seeing Jane win, his sense of competition spurred him to challenge her. He made each move carefully, so much so that he could have sworn he saw her start to panic. Although, that changed rather quickly when Jane peered across the marble chess board at him, a knowing yet reserved smirk on her face as she made a sure to be very strategic move.

"Your game is getting better," she said, meeting his eyes with a mildly taunting gaze. James furrowed his brows upon seeing her confident demeanor and quickly searched the board to check his position. He knew her game well enough by now than to think that her compliment wasn't accompanied by victory. He really thought he had beaten her this time, but as he scanned the remaining pieces scattered across the black and white spaces, he knew instantly that he had made a grave error. Three moves and she would have him regardless of his defence.

Sighing heavily, James sat back in his chair and looked at his wife in amused wonder. "Not good enough it would seem," James said, in good humor despite his most recent loss. "I haven't won against you yet."

"Lots of practice," Jane reasoned, smiling and leaning back in her seat. "I meant what I said though; your game is getting better. I thought you were going to beat me for a while there."

James smiled in return. "Well, so long as it wasn't easy for you, I think my pride won't be too damaged."

"That's a relief. You won't oppose to giving me my prize then." Looking rather pleased with herself for having brought up the promise he had made to her that afternoon, Jane stared back at James with a raised brow and a playful smirk. It was an expression on her that he had begun to see and recognize with increasing frequency in the last few weeks, and it was also one that he had begun to surrender to quite often. He couldn't explain it, but James felt that he couldn't disappoint her, especially when she looked at him like that. It was as if she really did see him as someone she could have fun with now.

"Oh, not this again," James groaned playfully, despite the fact that he fully intended to humor her. "I've given you a hundred names already."

"Yes, but I didn't like those. You promised you would think of a good one."

Smiling at his wife's stubbornness, James thought of their conversation earlier that day and remembered that he had, in fact, promised her that he would suggest another name for their unborn child. It was a game they had been playing with one another for the last several weeks, but as of yet, they were no closer to deciding on anything than they had been in the beginning. That is, not out loud, anyways.

James knew very well what he wanted to name his son, but it was the one name he had been hoarding for himself. The reason being, he knew Jane would like it, and quite honestly, he wanted to draw out their game a bit longer. He enjoyed playing it with her, and despite the fear that thinking of his future role as a father roused within him, he didn't want it to end just yet. It had been one of the first conversations where he and Jane had really managed to forget the past and really look to the possibilities that the future held in store; thus, he longed to preserve the novelty of it while he could.

However, despite his desire to continue in their game, James was admittedly running out of bad ideas to put to her. He had exhausted the more reasonable names and was now delving into names that he wouldn't ever dream of naming his child. It almost made him wonder if Jane had an idea of what name she wanted, but was just wanting him to be the one to say it first. If that was the case, then James supposed he would feel rather foolish for suggesting so many names before landing on that one.

With this in mind, James at last came to the conclusion that he couldn't hold on to his candidate any longer and that he should finally reveal it to Jane. After all, there were many decisions to be made in the coming weeks that could be a part of their game, and their friendly conversations would continue regardless of whether they decided on a name now.

"Very well, let me think," James answered her, furrowing his brows as if he was deep in thought. He waited several moments in hopes of leaving Jane in suspense, then leant forward and gestured for her to do the same. She did so, though she made no effort to conceal the confused yet intrigued expression that painted her face. She didn't yet understand the need for secrecy, but once James whispered the name to her from across the table, she understood quite instantly.

Jane's mischievous blue eyes widened in surprise once James spoke. "Really?" she asked, taking care still to speak at a whisper. They were not alone in the room, and she didn't want Lorraine or Thomas to hear what they were talking about. "You would name him after my father?"

Pleased by the excitement in Jane's voice, James nodded and quietly answered, "I think he deserves us to honor him, don't you?"

With an unmasked smile and wandering eyes, Jane glanced over at her father, who was reading silently in the corner next to Lorraine. She looked after them for several moments before reverting her attention back to James.

"Well?" he asked, smiling warmly at her. "What do you think? Do you like that one, or is it back to the drawing board?"

"Of course I like it," she said excitedly, then faltered, looking him directly in the eyes like she was searching for some indication that he might just be suggesting Thomas's name for her sake. "But are you sure? I know we've sort of been joking about this with the other suggestions, but this is... I don't know... it's different. Do you really want to name your son after him?"

"I do," James answered her without hesitating. He had actually put quite a bit of thought into what his son's name would be, and he genuinely couldn't think of anyone who deserved the honor more. "I wouldn't want him named after me–– or anyone in my family, for that matter–– and your father has been a real friend to me. I think it would be only right."

Once again, Jane seemed to be searching his expression for evidence that he was just trying to appease her, but upon finding none, she at last nodded and looked towards him with a shy smile, "I think so too."

"So..." James raised his brow and tried to mask his smile. "Have we finally decided, then?"

Jane laughed breathily, "I think so... But let's not tell anyone. It should be a surprise."

"Oh, I don't know about that," James teased her. "I don't know if I could keep that secret for long. Lorraine has been asking me about it relentlessly."

"Please," Jane sighed. "It's really not that much longer, and thank God for it. If it was, I might go mad."

Instantly, James's easy expression faltered and was replaced with a frown, "I thought you said you were feeling better?"

"I was," Jane huffed and once again leant back in her chair. "I don't feel as nauseous as I have, but I think I've slept a total of six hours in the last three days."

James's frown deepened, "Jane... you need to rest."

"Believe me, I'd like to... I just can't get comfortable anymore. I'm hoping that tonight though, the exhaustion will finally take me, and it won't matter if I'm comfortable or not."

Saddened by the disheartened tone of Jane's voice, James furrowed his brows and tried to think of some way he could remedy her problem, but to no avail. Unless there was some medicine or even some sort of mattress that could help her sleep better, there wasn't a thing he could do to help her. He felt completely useless, and he had the unsettling suspicion that that feeling would only intensify as Jane's time drew near.

"You'd tell me, wouldn't you?" James asked her, forcing a well-meaning smile. "You know, if there was anything I could do? I want to help... if I can."

With a tired smile, Jane shook her head. "Would that there was, but I don't think so. I'll just have to suffer through on my own, I'm afraid. Thank you though."

That wasn't the answer James was hoping to hear, but it did give him an idea. He knew she would likely object to it; nonetheless, he thought he might offer so that she knew he meant when he said he wanted to help.

"I'm sorry... You should wake me up next time. At the very least, I could keep you company." James laughed, "Or maybe I could bore you to sleep with it."

"I don't know if that would work," Jane smiled teasingly. "You tend to talk loudly about the things you like."

Upon hearing her rejection, James's cheeks flushed hot, not because he was embarrassed for having offered but because he was embarrassed for having evidently let himself talk too much in front of her. Sometimes he couldn't help it though; she was easy to talk to, and she was a good listener too. He felt she understood him more than anyone else did, but evidently, his confidence in that had contributed towards him getting a little too comfortable with annoying her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't–"

"No, don't," Jane interjected quickly. "Please... don't apologize for being passionate about things. It's... I like that about you."

"Yeah?" James felt his heart racing now for an entirely different reason than embarrassment. No matter what Jane said to encourage and praise him, as she often did, he still didn't know how to handle receiving a compliment from her. Her opinion mattered to him more than anyone else that he could think of, so to hear any sort of validation made his head spin a little with disbelief. He didn't understand how someone as good as her could see anything in him that was worthy of praise.

"Of course," Jane assured him with an affirmative nod. "If you weren't, we probably wouldn't have much to talk about. I mean, could you imagine if you hated reading? We would have never discussed all those stories and poems you've showed me."

Yet again, James felt his face growing hot with embarrassment. He knew he had shown her a fair number of passages from books he had been reading, but he had hoped to keep the poems to a minimum. He could have sworn it had been only two or three, but Jane's mention of them made him think that he had shown her quite a few more than that. It made him wonder what she must think of him; surely, she thought he was pathetic for it, but if she did, she didn't begin to express it in any recognizable way. In fact, she even made a point of stating quite the opposite.

"Don't be embarrassed," Jane smiled warmly. "I like when you read to me. It's relaxing."

"You do?"

Jane nodded, "Mhm... I like the way you read the poems, especially. I don't know what it is about your voice, but the words seem to come alive a little bit, like you were meant to read them."

If James was shocked before, now he was entirely dumbfounded. He had no clue what to say to that, in part because he wasn't quite sure whether he should just embrace his hidden love for poetry, but also in part because he wasn't sure how Jane would interpret it if he did. On the one hand, he appreciated the writing as an art itself, but on the other hand, he appreciated even more the emotional connection he had with it. It made him feel like he wasn't the only person in the world who was struggling with the relationships around him, and that, in turn, gave him hope that he might succeed in mending them. If he could learn from his mistakes, surely, true happiness was possible for him and his family.

Despite the fact that he was still reeling from Jane's unexpected confession, James tried to gather himself as he presented her with another offer. "Maybe I could read to you then?" he suggested uncertainly. "Next time you can't sleep... If you want?"

With a grateful smile, Jane shook her head and lightheartedly answered him, "No, that's alright. I don't want to keep you up too. At least one of us should be allowed a full night's rest."

"I don't mind," James heard himself say, perhaps both a little too loudly and a little too quickly. He glanced over at where Lorraine and Thomas were sitting and saw them both looking up at him. Wincing slightly at his over-enthusiasm, James redirected his attention back to Jane, who was watching him with her brows slightly drawn and the gleam of curiosity reflecting in her eyes. Again, James felt his face grow hot.

"I'm sorry," he said, this time careful to keep his voice low. "I won't press you, but I'll say this... You've had to face enough alone already, and if you want me to be, I'd like to be there for you where I can, even if it's the middle of the night and you can't sleep." James smiled weakly and lowered his eyes to the finished chess game that sat on the small table between them, huffing to himself in the same self-deprecating way he always did. He was sure Jane thought he was acting like a fool. "I'm sorry," he said softly, "I know I talk too much sometimes, but I wanted you to know that."

Jane sat silently across from her husband as her mind battled within her over how to respond to him. She saw how hard he was trying to erase her memory of who he used to be, and with each passing day, she knew he was succeeding, if only a little bit at a time. This James that sat before her now was unrecognizable to the one she had married so many months before, but despite the undisputed change that had taken place within him, Jane still struggled to accept it.

As much as she actively tried to forget the past, the pain she had experienced there was etched deep within her memory, much like paintings on cavern walls that have survived the trials of time. She longed to scrub them clean, but no matter how hard she tried, and no matter how loyally James continued to prove himself, the pictures were still there to tell the story of her suffering. It was one thing to be friendly with him, but to go to him when she was troubled over a personal matter so trivial as being unable to sleep was an entirely different thing altogether. It was too familiar, too intimate; and Jane didn't think she was there yet.

"Please..." Jane said gently, hoping that she could reject him without discouraging him entirely. "You– you don't need to apologize... And you're wrong. You don't talk too much. I, um, I appreciate you saying that. I really do."

"But?"

"I don't know... I just– I don't like to bother you–or anyone, really. It's not your problem; it's mine."

Suddenly, James lifted his eyes from the chess board in front of them and met her gaze. Then, earnestly and without hesitation, he spoke without faltering, "I admire your strength, Jane, but you're not alone anymore. Like it or not, your problems are my problems now. That's how marriage is supposed to work."

Jane stared back at her husband, paralyzed by the novelty and conviction of his words. They had never spoken much about their marriage itself, not even since he had returned from Edinburgh. Since then, it had always been friendly and lighthearted, which Jane rather liked, but it seemed that James wanted more. She wasn't sure how much more though, and so she found herself unable to answer him. James, however, quickly guessed this and spared her from having to prematurely voice her thoughts.

"You don't have to say anything," he told her, sighing heavily. "I just– I think now that we're friends—and truly, I'm grateful that we are—I just– I think we need to learn how to be partners. With the baby coming and everything, I don't know... We have a little bit of time; I think we should learn to lean on each other while it's still just us... that way, you know, when things are hard, they'll be... less so."

James's words hung heavily in the air between them, and try as she might to reject them, Jane couldn't help but cling to each one of them. She was taken aback by his rationality and even more so by his candor; but the thing that shocked her the most was his apparent hope for the future. Whatever more there was that he hadn't revealed to her yet, Jane knew this: James wanted depth, and he wanted loyalty, if only to improve their circumstances for when troubles did assail them. It was a clear-sighted and thoughtful argument that Jane knew she couldn't reject even if she wanted to.

"You're right," Jane said, slightly caught off guard by James's sudden burst of wisdom. "You're completely right; I'm sorry. I'm just so used to–" Shaking her head, Jane thought better of speaking about her longtime desire for independence. "I'm just stubborn, I suppose, and I've never liked asking for help."

"I think we have that in common," James smiled ruefully. "It's not an easy habit to break."

"But not impossible for you."

"Nor you, I dare say."

There was a long pause that followed, but neither one of them seemed to have anything left to say. Their conversation, while cordial and even joyful at times, had been heavy for the lateness of the hour. Exhaustion and deep thought clouded Jane's eyes and mind, and James could very well tell this from her expression alone. Her eyes wandered, and her brows were drawn only slightly together; she did not appear troubled, but still, he knew quite well that he shouldn't press her any more than he already had. After all, she had said much already that he was grateful for, and he didn't see how testing his luck for more would benefit either of them.

More importantly though, Jane needed rest, and James didn't want to be the one to keep her from it any longer. Thus, he announced that he would be retiring for the evening, a lead which he was thankful that Jane quickly followed. After saying goodnight to Lorraine and Thomas, James walked alongside his wife to the upstairs, where they parted ways to retreat to their own respective bedrooms, before which James made Jane promise to consider his offer of staying up with her should she be unable to sleep. Whether she meant it or not, he was content with her favorable answer and so went on to bed secretly wishing that one night she might come knocking on his door. It would make him feel helpful to her for once, and that truly was all he wished to come of it, if not also the unintended consequence that they might continue growing closer to one another. He hoped for that too, and as James went to bed that night, he had a strange feeling that just maybe it might happen sooner than he anticipated.

•••

sorry that took so long, midterms are hitting rn and my maths are not being kind to me lol 
On another note, I committed to Law School today and will be officially moving out of my home state for the first time ever (lol at me trying not to freak out)

Anyways, thank you all for reading, I really appreciate it! ily guys
Kate