#Bunty Windermere x reader

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

I started writing my first Father Brown fanfiction!!!

Bunty Windermere x female reader. Will probably be posted in two parts.

Also starring Father Brown, Mrs. McCarthy, lady Felicia, Inspector Mallory and Sergeant Goodfellow. The temporary title is

Sweet Serenade

(part one) (part two)

Hope you like it!

EDIT: Still working on it. This fic is kicking my butt 😔 Part one should be posted within the end of the week (feb 25th)!

[rose-edith]

Spending your birthday at the presbytery (it's my birthday on Monday ☺️)

Happy Birthday! I hope you have a fabulous birthday!

Spending your birthday at the Presbytery would include:

•Mrs M goes all out and bakes her most ambitious (and as it turns out most delicious) cake for you all to enjoy!

•although you’ll be spending the whole day at the Presbytery with the Father and Mrs M they’ve also set up a tea-time picnic in the garden to make the most of the lovely weather.

•invited to the picnic are Lady Felicia, Bunty, Sid, Sergeant Goodfellow and Inspector Mallory. (Ordinarily Inspector Mallory wouldn’t have been invited- but Bunty had caught wind of your slight crush on the man and had pretty much flirted, bribed and blackmailed him into accepting the invitation as a special birthday surprise for you.)

•but before the picnic you had a gentle day of helping Mrs M by doing some shopping, and everyone in Kembleford wished you well on your very special day.

•you got to help Father Brown by tidying his desk a bit and badgering him to return books to the library, and when he received a phone call you got to answer it and speak to Flambeau who had apparently called specifically to talk to you and wish you a happy birthday! He said he’d sent something in the post that should turn up in a day or two, but wouldn’t tell you what it is...leaving you borderline concerned.

•the day passed by peacefully and languidly until at last Mrs M started to set up the picnic blanket and the cakes and scones and pastries and homemade lemonade, she wouldn’t let you lift a finger to help as she’d roped Father Brown in to helping.

•so when Bunty and Lady F and Sid arrived you welcomed them in and went to sit down with them on the pretty picnic area.

•you couldn’t help but blush when Sgt. Goodfellow and Inspector Mallory arrived, especially when Bunty essentially manhandled the Inspector to sit next to you!

•after you’d all taken your fill of Mrs M’s delicious hard work it was present time!! Everyone’s gifts were so incredibly thoughtful, but none more so than Father Brown’s- he’d brought you a record you’d been telling him about that you’d heard on the radio.

•so the evening passed with great company, and when Sid brought out the record player you got to dance with all your friends (even Inspector Mallory danced with you a little bit).

•all in all it was a perfect birthday full of peace and laughter and love.

[ohnopoe]

Do you ever stop talking? | Bunty Windermere

Ship: Bunty Windermere x Reader Prompt: Do you ever stop talking? Word Count: 900+ Warnings: alcohol Tagging: @23orso​ (requester)

Montague house was a stunning sight to see even on the most mundane, fog filled morn, but lit up with bright lights and decorations, it was a sight to behold. Clearly, Lady Felicia and her niece had spared no expense when it came to the party. The crowd that spilled out onto the perfectly manicured garden was a surprising mix of upperclass and those who were simply too dear to be ignored; no matter how much their attendance seemed to ire some of Monty’s work associates. But, somehow, it worked. Like a display of the two stunning hostesses themselves shown in their eccentric guest list.

There were only a handful you had met before, some of Bunty’s friends that she got up to all sorts of mischief with, but you certainly didn’t know them well enough to spend the evening at their side, so you opted to stay to the side, nursing a glass of champagne as you watched the festivities, waiting until Bunty was freed of her duties and able to spend some time with you. You would have been perfectly content to simply wait, to listen to the music, watch people dance, and simply embrace the atmosphere, but a woman alone at a party was bound to be interrupted of her solitude at some point.

Perhaps you should have considered yourself lucky that it was Sidney Carter, and not one of Monty’s pompous friends, that decided to interrupt your solitude. With a cheeky grin and an incredible confidence in the way he leant against the wall at your side, he was certainly amusing, and he wasted no time in delving into stories of mysteries and murders that he had been a part of solving. Sure, he seemed to be talking himself up more than a bit, and you knew that look in his gaze far too well, but he was Bunty’s friend, and, so long as he wasn’t getting the wrong idea, you could cope with that.

A glance across the room, to the exact place said friend was still trapped in her duties had you catching her eye, a soft smile dancing on your lips as you watched her quirk a brow at your situation, amused be the way Sid was taking in your tailored dress for the umpteenth time, not quite as subtle as he hoped to be. Pursing your lips in an effort not to laugh, you offered her a small shrug, returning your attention to the man before you and his tale of heroics against the infamous thief, Hercule Flambeau.

Another song began and ended, and still Sid spoke of the exploits he and the Father, often alongside Bunty and her aunt, got up to. It seemed there was a near endless supply of heroics he could speak of, and more than a few laws being broken along the way. In truth, they were fascinating, albeit overly embellished, and you knew you’d have to ask Bunty about more than one of his tales to decipher just what had truly occurred. But in the middle of a party, and on a nearly endless array of stories, one after another, they somewhat lost their impact.

“Do you ever stop talking?” Bunty’s voice called from over your shoulder, instantly pulling your attention away from the chauffeur’s tale. A beaming smile reached your lips at the sound of her voice, only strengthening as you turned to see her standing there. She looked glamorous as ever, dressed in the latest fashion, perfectly tailored to fit, and with her signature red lipstick that was sure to leave its impression on more than just the glass in her hand.

Without even bothering to look at her friend in greeting, she handed you a second glass of champagne, a twinkle of mischief in her eye as she did so.

“Just keeping your friend here company,” Sid shrugged, throwing you a quick wink that had you shaking your head in amusement. “Not good for a girl to be here alone, is it? Who knows what sort might try to steal her away.”

A scoff of laughter came from both Bunty and yourself in near harmony, but, as you decided to hold your tongue, taking a sip of the fresh glass of champagne, it seemed Bunty had no such intentions.

“Like you?” she offered with a raised brow, her lips quirked into a hint of a smile, one that threatened far more mischief than you were prepared for.

Glancing about the packed ballroom warily, you gave her a warning glance, your tone low as you spoke her name, trying to remind her of your situation, and of just how furious her aunt would be if she were to make a scene. But all you received in response was a quick smile before your warning was dismissed with a roll of her eyes.

“And for your information, she’s not alone, she’s with me,” Bunty spoke with a harsh undertone, that softness she had been showing so many of the guests long gone as she watched Sid carefully.

“Well, yeah, we know she’s your guest-” he began, straightening himself up in an effort to defend himself.

“Actually,” she started, glancing back at you almost as if seeking permission, although you rather doubted anything could have held her back at this point. With a resigned sigh, you threw back the remnants of your champagne, suddenly wishing it was something stronger, and gave her a small nod of encouragement. “She’s my date.”

[thisistheblogyourelookingfor]

Fandom: Father Brown- she/her pronouns who is interestingly bi so have fun! Physically: Under 5ft, stocky build with reddish brown hair and grey eyes. Personality: Warm, caring and loyal to a fault though a bit stubborn Likes: History, tea, writing and a bit of bawdy humor

I’ll be honest, I had a difficult time with this one. originally I wanted to say Sid but then I changed my mind when I thought about Bunty (honestly if you want headcanons for any other characters let me know). hope you like it!

Father Brown

I pair you with Bunty Windermere!

y’all are the cutest girlfriends ever okay hear me out

she is all for your humor and you two make Mrs. McCarthy gawk in horror literally every time you’re in a room together

you’re a decent bit shorter than her and so of course she uses this to her advantage. leaning her elbow on your shoulder? absolutely. hugging you and placing her chin on top of your head? y e s

she l o v e s to do your hair and doll you up

she is the queen of hand holding like that’s honestly all you’ll do

you like writing? she is incredibly excited to read what you write and will hype it up so much. she especially enjoys you reading it aloud to her while you both relax on the sofa sipping tea

she definitely thinks your stubbornness is hot. like this girl is already a wild spirit, so to see you display that too makes her heart skip a beat

but that also means that when you two argue it gets heated, but that happens rarely so I wouldn’t be too worried

she’s not one for academics, but she’ll take you to museums (probably with Felicia and Sid) and watch you enjoy yourself which in turn makes her beam with excitement. she often asks you about a certain topic in history so you can tell her all about it

seriously though, dates with her are the best. she will take you on an adventure every time and often times you somehow get involved in the ‘murder of the week’ literally what else happens in Kembleford how many people live there anymore they all keep dying

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Sweet serenade (part 2)

Bunty Windermere x reader. This is part two of two. Part one is here.

My first Father Brown fic! The Polish resettlement camp mentioned here is the one Suzie lived in, even though it hasn’t been mentioned since season 1. I usually watch Father Brown dubbed in my language, which is why I’m not sure I can faithfully portray the “voice” of the characters, with the appropriate 1950s lingo and all that; any suggestion is appreciated!

Warning: mentions of homophobia.

*****

“Here you go, dear.” mrs McCarthy murmured soothingly as she offered (name) a cup of freshly made tea; seeing the younger woman didn’t react, she put it directly in her hands “Drink it while it’s hot; it will make you feel better.”

(name) nodded numbly, but placed the cup on the table in front of her without taking a sip, before staring helplessly at the two people in front of her; they were all sitting in the presbitery’s kitchen, where Father Brown had had to lead her by hand, since the young woman was still in shock. Completely lost, and all too aware both the priest and his parish secretary knew as little as she did, she nonetheless asked: “How could it happen?”

“It is clearly a mistake, and I’m sure we can find a solution.”

“I really hope so, Father. It… it’s ridiculous! Bunty is not a murderer, anyone who knows her a little would know.” she protested, looking helplessly around her as if hoping to be reassured and, more importantly, to find a proof of her partner’s innocence simply there in front of her “... but the inspector must have reason to think she’s guilty, otherwise he wouldn’t have arrested her…”

A terribly pale mrs McCarthy offered Father Brown a cup of tea, and he thanked her with a nod, too deep in his thoughts to speak; they had already discussed about calling lady Felicia to inform her, since the older woman was her niece’s de facto tutor during her permanence in Kembleford, but Father Brown had decided to wait, in the hope that the matter would be solved quickly.  

“What did Mallory say the name of the victim was?” the parish secretary inquired “Thaddeus...?”

“Tadeusz; I’m almost sure it was a Polish name.”

“I don’t think Bunty has any friends among the camp’s residents.”

“What can we do?” (name) wondered; she was still terribly pale and upset, but as she spoke her tone got firm, the focused, lucid look of a woman who had taken a blow and was ready to react “Father, you have already been involved in the Police’s investigations, and you have helped discharge many people they had accused unjustly. You think you could do the same for Bunty? I could help you… investigating…”

“I’ll do everything I can, since I am as sure of her innocence as you are.” the priest reassured her, doing his best to hide how upset he was himself; he had been able to prove the innocence of many accused the Police had already put behind bars, but the fact that this time it was a personal friend, a young woman who had been entrusted to his custody, did make things different “But before deciding what to do, I think we’d better wait for our guest…”

“A guest? Who do you…?”

The doorbell rang. “... who has just arrived.” the priest concluded with a smile; mrs McCarthy went to the door, returning a moment later accompanied by sergeant Goodfellow, his face gloomy. 

“I don’t have much time, Father.”

“What can you tell us, sergeant?” 

Goodfellow sat with the others and accepted a cup of tea; he retrieved a notebook from his breast pocket. “The victim’s name was Tadeusz Chodakievicz.” he explained, without stumbling on the difficult to pronounce name “Twenty-nine years old, unemployed, resident of Kembleford’s Polish camp. His brother didn’t see him this morning, went looking for him at home, and found him lying on his bed; he had been shot twice in the face, and since there are no signs of a struggle we believe he was attacked as he slept.”

“What a vile behaviour.” mrs McCarthy pointed out grimly; she was now busy pouring some tea for herself.

“When was this man killed?” 

“In the early hours of last night, according to the coroner, even though he said he can’t be sure before examining the body.”

“What does Bunty have to do with all of this?” (name) wondered, talking for the first time, her voice barely above a whisper; Goodfellow looked at her, compassion in his eyes.

“As we searched Chodakievicz’s room, we found a women’s handbag under the bed. Inside there were a few cosmetics, an empty wallet… and miss Windermere’s personal documents.” he explained.

(name) seemed to perk up suddenly. “Her handbag?” she inquired “Is it a leather one, blue? And do you know if this man owned a moped?”

“Yes, that’s the one, and while Chodakievicz himself didn’t own a moped, his brother did, and he borrowed it often.”

“That handbag was stolen from Bunty! I remember it well, it happened six months ago, the day after she arrived in Kembleford. A man on a moped, who neither she or I, who were nearby, could recognize, mugged her and took the handbag away. Do you remember, Father? I’m sure Bunty told you.”

“I remember well.” the priest agreed “If memory serves, the handbag had been a gift from lady Felicia.”

“Exactly. Clearly this Tadeusz was the mugger, and after the theft he kept the handbag instead of throwing it away. Sergeant, you need to tell the inspector immediately!”

Unfortunately, Goodfellow looked much less hopeful than (name). “Did miss Windermere report the theft of her handbag?” he inquired, and when the young woman shook her head in response he sighed “In that case unfortunately it is impossible to prove the fact ever took place, even with your testimony; looking at the facts, one could argue that miss Windermere snuck in Chodakievicz’s home, killed him and forgot her handbag there when she left.”

“It seems an extremely naive behaviour for a killer.” Father Brown pointed out “Also, I think anyone who is, or was, acquainted with either Bunty and this man can attest the two of them didn’t know each other, and had nothing in common; there would be no reason for his murder.”

“I agree, Father, and I’m not saying miss Windermere is guilty; but at the moment she’s the only suspect, and… well, inspector Mallory doesn’t seem willing to look for another one.”

(name) swore under her breath; no one reacted.

Goodfellow hesitated for a moment. “She lives here, am I correct?” he asked, and mrs. McCarthy nodded. 

“Yes, Bunty occupies the spare room on the first floor.” 

“In that case… Well, is there someone who could testify about her whereabouts last night? Did you hear, or even better see, her get up for a drink of water or something like that? After all the Polish resettlement camp is across town; can you attest that miss Windermere was in her bed… or somewhere else?”

An unpleasant, embarrassed silence fell on the room. Father Brown’s gaze was fixated on his knees, the face of a man deep in his thoughts; mrs McCarthy looked questioningly at (name), the younger woman got the hint and blushed furiously.

“I’m afraid we are both heavy sleepers, sergeant.” the priest answered in the end, already asking for forgiveness for that small lie in his heart “So even if Bunty had risen to go to the toilet or fix herself something to eat, we didn’t notice.”

“I see. Well, I’m sure that if miss Windermere is innocent, which I don’t doubt, it’ll come out, and we’ll find the true killer.” Goodfellow replied, even though he didn’t look more convinced than Father Brown or the two women next to him; he thanked mrs McCarthy for the tea and left, explaining he had to be back at the station before Mallory wondered where he was “There is no need to accompany me, I know the way.”

As soon as she and her friends were alone once more, (name) sobbed - just once, as if she were determined to keep herself in check, allowing herself only the smallest sign of weakness. “I can’t believe it, this is a nightmare… and it’s all my fault…”

“This is not true.” mrs McCarthy corrected her, taking the younger woman’s hand in her own “At all.”

“Well, not in the sense that I killed that man, clearly, but if it weren’t for me, you and Father Brown could attest to Bunty’s alibi, say that she was at home as usual. You see, last night we… we had a…” (name) stammered, still red in the face; she was almost sure neither Father Brown nor mrs McCarthy would reprimand her, at least while they had a much bigger problem at their hands, but she had never felt uneasy about having to discuss her preference for partners of her own gender before, and it was not a pleasant sensation. 

Father Brown was quick to come to her rescue. “The details of your relationship with Bunty only concern the two of you, and I wouldn’t want to judge you in any case.” he reassured her kindly “Right now we have to find a way to help her. I must ask you: was Bunty with you the whole night?”

(name) could have attested for every single moment of those nine hours, since she had spent most of them holding Bunty in her arms. 

“Oh, yes; she came to my house just before ten o’clock, and stayed with me until this morning, when we both left early to go prepare the shop for the opening… which I imagine will have to be postponed now.” she reflected with a sigh; proving Bunty’s innocence was of course more important than anything else, but the young woman was heartbroken, already sure she would have to cancel, rather than simply postponing, the event. Just that morning, she had thought she had it all; a lovely partner by her side, even though their relationship was still mostly a secret, and her own business about to be officially inaugurated, and now… 

Now I feel just like the day I lost mom and dad. God, it hurts so much. 

“So no one could have seen Bunty near the Polish camp last night.” 

(name) opened her arms, helpless. “Unless someone lies about it, whatever the reason, or she is secretly able to be in two different places at the same time, I would say no.”

“This is already important for us. Now… I’d like you to go to her.” Father Brown instructed her “I’m sure Bunty has never needed the comfort of a friend like she does now. Also, the two of you could discuss the possibility of telling inspector Mallory Bunty does have an alibi for last night.”

(name) said she wasn’t so sure it would help, since everyone in Kembleford knew she and Bunty were great friends, and what value could such an alibi have? “But I guess it’s worth trying, if only because it could be our only chance to help her.” she sighed as she stood from the table; she looked at the still full, but by now cold, cup of tea in front of her, bit her lip, and inquired: “Where are you going, Father?”

“There is someone else I need to talk to, about… the cleaning.” the priest answered vaguely; he had the sort of look his friends knew well, when he was reflecting deeply on a matter, the keen intelligence few expected from such a meek, unassuming person fast at work “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

Mrs McCarthy, who was as worried for Bunty as the others, wished to do something to help as well, but Father Brown asked her to remain home; he’d send word in case of need, but in any case they would give the younger woman her love. 

He and (name) left the presbytery together; they were meant to take different paths, but a moment before parting she called him. “You know, Father?” she asked, a sad, helpless smile dancing on her lips; Father Brown had known (name) since she was born, and suddenly if felt as if she hadn’t grown much since then - or at least since her parents had died, more than a decade before, and she was still the lonely young girl entrusted to an aunt and uncle who didn’t know what to do with her “I asked her; Bunty. To… go public, to tell people we are more than friends; I don’t think it would come as a surprise to many, I know there are rumours about me in the village. You’ve known me for so long, you know I don’t like hiding… but even otherwise, for her I would have done it gladly. I care for Bunty very much; maybe you… can’t approve…”

Father Brown smiled; he didn’t ask what Bunty’s opinion about the possibility of living their relationship in the open was. “And you have known me long enough to know I am not interested in judging, and even less in condemning. I think you and Bunty were lucky to find each other. Do not lose hope.” he urged her; he wasn’t talking just about the chance of proving Bunty’s innocence and they both knew it. (name) nodded numbly, her expression full of fear.

Ramrod straight, her face held high -the posture of a woman who had nothing to be ashamed of and wouldn’t let anyone persuade her otherwise- (name) marched through the entrance of Kemblefold’s police station; sergeant Goodfellow was once again behind the counter, but inspector Mallory was coming out of his office right then and it was him the young woman addressed, her tone courteous but firm. “Good afternoon. I’m here to visit miss Penelope Windermere.”

“Why?”

“Because I appreciate her company, and I think right now she needs mine.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt you and Windermere enjoy each other’s company, miss (last name).” Mallory replied, his tone heavy with sarcasm and an innuendo (name) pretended not to catch; she had had to contend with that sort of insinuation, people feeling free to openly discuss her personal matters simply because she didn’t feel the need to hide them, for half her life, and by now she knew how to control herself. Until the day I’ll break someone’s face with my fist, she thought; the short, moustached man in front of her seemed an ideal candidate “And I’m warning you, if Father Brown sent you to snoop around, because he’s carrying out an… investigation of his own…”

“No one sent me, inspector; but, correct me if I’m wrong, I’m pretty sure that according to the law any prisoner has the right to receive two visitors per day, excluding their lawyer and a religious adviser, which means you have no right to send me away. Now, will you show me where Bunty is kept or shall I have to walk around the station until I find her?”

Mallory’s glare suggested he’d want nothing better than to throw her in a cell as well; the inspector didn’t answer but, clearly annoyed, led (name) at the back, to a small but clean cell. He opened the door for her, and “Fifteen minutes, and no funny business.” he warned, before leaving the two women alone.

(name) didn’t bother to lower her voice. “What an idiotic bully! It’s like my mother used to say, the shorter they are the more they feel the need to compensate.” she said, but Bunty didn’t answer; she was sitting primly on the bench, her hands in her lap, staring into the void; she didn’t react when (name) sat next to her, across from a large damp spot on the wall “Hi… how do you feel?”

“Not bad. My room is not exactly the Ritz, and there is no French cuisine-specialised chef like I was promised, but the maid brought back my dress perfectly ironed…

“Stop joking around, Bunty!” (name) reprimanded her, even though she felt about to tear up herself; she had promised herself she would be strong, strong enough for both of them, comforting Bunty and reassuring her that proving her innocence was just a matter of time, but seeing her in that moment, so pale, so small and afraid, made her feel ready to burst into tears.   

Bunty smiled at her; joyless, helpless, and hopeless. “What do you want me to do? I’ve been accused of murder, and Mallory says they have no other lead; you will admit I have little to rejoice about.”

(name) bit her lip, reminding herself this was not the right moment to discuss the nature, or rather the secrecy, of their relationship; first she had to get Bunty out of prison, and then they could discuss why the other woman didn’t feel comfortable with holding her hand in public. “You could tell the inspector you do have an alibi.” she suggested.

Bunty’s answer was immediate, and stubborn. “No, I can’t; I can’t tell anyone anything.” she said, and (name) knew there was so much at stake, her partner’s freedom and maybe even her life -a man had been murdered, after all, capital punishment could not be ruled out- and Bunty was innocent, a young woman who had a whole life ahead of her, and compared to that (name)’s own feelings had no importance whatsoever… 

… still, it was hard not to take it personally. 

(name) sighed. Her resolution lasted exactly five seconds; she felt the most egotistical woman in Great Britain, but she couldn’t help it. “Listen, if you don’t… feel the same as I do, at least for now…” she began, and Bunty looked at her, incredulous; for a moment she seemed to fully forget she had been accused of murder.

“You really think that’s the problem? That I don’t tell anyone, that I don’t shout from the rooftops, that I’m with you… because I don’t care enough? That I don’t care about you?!”

“Well… you always told me you are not the relationship type, and it is true that we have been seeing each other only for a few weeks…”

“Oh, God, (name)...”

Bunty sighed, a hand over her face, then she used it to take (name)’s, eyes full of determination. “It’s true, I’ve never been much interested in boyfriends or stable relationships.” she admitted “But it’s also true that before coming to Kembleford I had never met anyone like you. You… you are special, (name); very special, for me. I’m sorry if I never proved it to you like you deserved.”

“You’re special to me as well, Bunty. More than anyone I have ever met.” (name) replied; for a short, precious moment true, pure happiness was all her heart could feel. She smiled, using her free hand to cup Bunty’s cheek, before the reality of the danger her partner was in crashed on her shoulders “But then… why don’t you want to tell the inspector you were with me last night?”

“You really don’t know?”

“Don’t tell me you worry about the gossip! Bunty, I’m sorry I have to tell you, but most of the village already suspects we are more than friends.”

Bunty sighed; she had always lived as if she didn’t give a damn about people’s opinion about her, and it was mostly true, but… “I’m not talking about the people here in Kembleford. I…”

She hesitated; Bunty trusted (name), fully and completely, and knew the other woman had the right to know the truth, but simply thinking back at that horrible night of ten years ago still filled her with shame. 

“When I was sixteen, there was a young maid who worked at my parents’ place; her name was Merry, and…”

(name) listened to the story intently; hearing about her partner’s old flame, of their relationship and of the disastrous consequences this had had on poor Meredith’s life once Bunty’s parents, or rather her father, had learnt about it, filled her with indignation. “So this is what, or who, you’re afraid of; your father.” 

Bunty sighed.“It is. You know, it’s weird; all my life, since I was twelve, I have gone from one guy to the next, I have given scandal more than once… I have dated married men, ended up on the tabloids, and my father… I’m not saying he was happy, I got into trouble so many times, but when he found me with Merry, when he discovered that I… liked girls…”

It still felt weird to say; and scary, as if her father could appear suddenly, make good on his promise of ten years before, and destroy her life.

“... I really thought he would kill me, or at least throw me out of the house. He… hurt me…”

“He hit you?” (name) asked, unbelieving and horrified; she knew already, from what Bunty had told her, that she and her partner’s father were not destined to be friends, but suddenly she wished she could have him in front of her, to tell him what she thought about him “Oh, God, Bunty…” 

“Don’t worry, I survived; thank God aunt Fliss stopped him before he could use his belt.” Bunty explained, and shivered; she was now an adult, almost as tall as his father, but the memory of that night still haunted her “But for weeks life at home was… unbearable, and my father looked at me as if… as if he regretted having me; as if he were disgusted of having me under his roof. From then on… we never spoke of it again, but we somehow made a pact: I can do more or less what I want, as long as it’s always and only men. If he knew I was with a girl again, if he only had reason to suspect I did… then I know I wouldn’t be welcome home ever again.”

(name) bit her lip; now they were both feeling guilty. “I’m so sorry.” she murmured “I never wanted to… trouble you…”

“It’s not your fault if my father is… what he is; and I always thought that as long as I remain in Kembleford I can do more or less what I want, since he and my mother would never come here and would have no way to know who I spend time with. Now things have changed; telling the inspector I have spent last night with you could prove I didn’t kill that man, but then the news would spread, the papers could talk about it… and my father would never speak to me again.”

(name) was still unconvinced - and heartbroken; she knew her partner didn’t mean to hurt her, but knowing she was a secret Bunty planned on keeping from her family in London taking advantage of the distance, like the mistresses some rich men bought an apartment for away from their family home, was not pleasant. “Would it be so terrible for you to lose your father’s respect?” she inquired “From what you have told me he doesn’t seem to deserve it, or you.”

Bunty grimaced; she knew (name) had lost her own parents when she was young and couldn’t therefore fully understand her situation, but the question felt indelicate all the same. “That we don’t always see eye to eye doesn’t mean that I don’t want him in my life. I do love my father; and you can’t understand, he was so furious that day… I know he would never forgive me, not to mention he would surely cut me off and I would be left penniless.”

“I’d rather starve than having to hide the truth about my feelings.”

Bunty looked at her, her gaze a mixture of admiration and incredulity. “You really don’t give a damn about what people think about you, do you?”

“I have never hidden what I am, what I want, and what sort of company I like; you may very well say I am used to gossip, since I kissed the girl who sat next to me in geometry during recess when I was thirteen and she told the whole class.” (name) replied with a shrug; she had had her heart broken so many times she had lost count and having people she was fond of suddenly start to avoid her wasn’t pleasant, but she had always known she had nothing to be ashamed of “When I was still a child I promised myself I would let no one stop me from living my life, no matter how painful the consequences would be; also, I found out that making people face an uncomfortable truth is a good way to find out who your friends really are, and who you can live without instead.”

“Lucky you…”

(name) pointed out softly it was not a matter of luck, rather of choice, which in her case had been a forced one, given the loss of her parents, while Bunty had the possibility to actually decide what to do. “You are intelligent, resourceful and went to good schools. You would probably have to do without the comfort and luxuries your family grants you, but you could find a job to support yourself, and then no one could blackmail you anymore, economically and morally both; wouldn’t it be nice, not to have to hide anymore, and spend money you have earned?”

“(name)...”

“You could come live with me, until you can pay rent; you know I’d be happy to have you. Believe it or not, I know it would be painful to cut ties with your parents, because you love them despite everything, but Bunty, think about it… you really think it’s worth it, since your father doesn’t accept you for what you are? Everything you ask for is being free to love; what’s so wrong about that?” 

Bunty didn’t answer; she sighed, looking at her hands, too scared she was going to be sentenced to death to reflect on whether her parents’ financial support, and love, was worth hiding the truth about her and (name)’s relationship. “Well, according to what the sergeant told me, at least now I know what became of my blue handbag.”

“Well, that’s a relief…”

“You think I’m making a huge mistake, don’t you?”

(name) sighed, and admitted that yes, she did; she had been in the cell for five minutes and already felt the claustrophobia creeping in. Bunty would spend the rest of her life behind bars, or even lose her life, she thought, while the real killer got away; and worse of all, there was nothing she could do to help, since even if she went against the other woman’s desires, the alibi provided by a dear friend would never satisfy a jury. 

“But the choice is yours; and in any case, I doubt it would make much difference.” she pointed out “But don’t worry, we’ll find a solution; Father Brown is already working on it.”

Bunty made a valiant effort to laugh. “If the Father is at it I’m in safe hands.”

“I’m glad you think so. Now, is there something you want me to bring you? A book, or a sweater.” (name) proposed; she just wanted to be useful, to bring comfort to her partner, no matter how small or inconsequential her effort could be. Bunty shook her head; there was nothing she needed, just…

“Would you please hug me?” she asked, her voice small; the two of them had done much more than hugging, but that was everything the young woman needed at that moment, and she had never needed it more. (name) didn’t answer; she simply opened her arms and held Bunty tight, and the two of them remained in that position, still but holding on to one another, and parted, not without regret, only when inspector Mallory came to tell them the time at their disposal had run out. 

Maksym was sitting on a bench next to the caravan he shared with his family, in the heart of Kembleford’s Polish camp, with an English grammar book open on his lap; nevertheless, study seemed to be the last thing on his mind.

“I thought we had gone over that chapter last week.” Father Brown pointed out gently as he approached, and the boy jumped to his feet, suddenly on edge as if he had been caught while he committed a terrible crime… or he felt guilty for some reason. Only then the priest noticed that despite the warm, sunny day, he wore a heavy scarf around his neck. 

“Oh, God, I didn’t finish cleaning the sacristy! I forgot, Father, I’m so sorry, I’ll go straight away…”

“I’m not here for that… or to reproach you, whatever the reason. May I sit for a moment?”

“Of… of course.” Maksym answered, still clearly unsure, and went back to the bench as Father Brown sat next to him; the priest noticed the boy was avoiding his gaze.

“At one point I turned and you had disappeared.” he pointed out, trying not to make it sound like an accusation.

“Well… I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to be a bother, since it was clearly a serious matter; and Inspector Mallory doesn’t like us of the camp. Has… has miss Windermere been arrested?”

“Unfortunately she has; but I am confident we can find a way to prove she is innocent. Did you know him? That man, Tadeusz Chod… how do you pronounce it?”

Maksym shook his head; then, perhaps since his interlocutor was a priest, and a person he liked and trusted, and since no one would believed he didn’t know a person who was part of the same eighty-people community as him, he admitted: “Chodakievicz; yes, I knew him, even though we were not friends or anything. A couple of times he took me for a ride on his brother’s moped.”

“Did you like him?”

“He was alright; he didn’t bully younger boys like some other men do.”

“I see. And what about your parents? Did they know him?”

Maksym didn’t answer; he had hunched his shoulders, as if trying to make himself as small as possible, to disappear, to make his interlocutor forget his presence. Looking at him, Father Brown’s heart filled with pity; confession was supposed to make a person feel better, relieved, but the boy next to him was aware of the implications his words could have, and he felt no joy in pressing him, even if it meant helping Bunty. 

“And isn’t it a bit too warm for a scarf? Does your throat hurt?” 

“Father, please, let it go…”

“Let me see, Maksym.”

For a moment, the boy looked sorely tempted to make a dash; then, looking like a man walking towards the gallows, he did take his scarf off, exposing his neck… and a large, black bruise on the side of his throat. “I think he was aiming for my face, but he was drunk again, and he missed… sort of.” he explained with a sad smile; an hopeless, resigned smile “He had just woken up when I left; it’s better to stay clear of him, until he’s sober again.”

Father Brown, while filled with indignation for that act of violence, decided not to comment - at least for now. “Why did your father hit you?” he inquired once more “Maybe… you asked him a question he didn’t like?” 

Silence.

“Did your father kill Tadeusz?” 

Maksym answered that he didn’t know - not for sure, at least. “I am a very deep sleeper, and my dad is used to walk silently, shoes in his hand, when he returns home late from the pub, in case my little sister is sleeping; so I can’t be sure if yesterday he left in the middle of the night and to go to Tadeusz’s to… hurt him. It’s possible, but I have no proof.”

“Did your father and Tadeusz know each other?”

“They did, and… well, they didn’t like each other. They played cards, together with the other men of the camp, and Tadeusz always beat my dad. It was stupid, really, it wasn’t a matter of money, just… my dad couldn’t stand the fact that a man much younger than him ridiculed him in front of his friends; they had already come to blows more than once. Maybe yesterday Tadeusz made fun of him because my dad had lost against him again, and then he got drunk, and when I… when I asked him whether he had done something to Tadeusz he didn’t answer, but he hit me…” 

Maksym’s smile was full of sadness: he was tall for his age, more mature than men twice as old and he worked already to help support his family, but in that moment he looked lost and scared, like a child begging to be reassured everything would be all right.

“I know what you came to ask me, Father.” he whispered “And I can’t do it.”

“Yes, you can. I dare say you must.” 

“You don’t understand. I’m sorry for Tadeusz, and for miss Windermere, I like her and it’s terrible she’s been accused of a murder she didn’t commit, but this is my father we’re talking about! We need him; we have so little money already, and he’s the only one in my family who has a stable job, without him me, my mother and my little sister will starve! I’m ashamed of what he did, and I know he deserves to pay, but I can’t do it, because…”

“... because you love him. Am I right?”

The boy nodded, only once, as if he were ashamed of that as well. “He’s not always bad.” he murmured “It’s the alcohol that makes him do bad things. He treats my mom very well, and he’s usually patient with my little sister, even when she cries all night. Sometimes the two of us go fishing at the brook, and we talk; I like those moments. Also, he’s been in trouble with the law already, when he was younger; if he’s convicted of murder, he… I can’t take that responsibility, Father, I don’t want him to go; I… I’d miss him too much.”

Father Brown sighed, and admitted Maksym’s situation was one no child deserved to find himself in, especially at his age. “I’m sure you’ll do the right thing.” he conceded, and the boy looked at him, clearly surprised. 

“That’s it?” he inquired “You’re not going to insist, to tell me that I should be ashamed of myself, because I’m letting an innocent woman take the blame for a murder, and that God will punish me for that?”

“I have no intention of doing that… especially regarding that last point. You’re old enough to decide what to do… and I’ll consider this a confession, which means I’ll never tell a soul.”

“Not even the police?”

“Not even the police. I know how hard this is for you, Maksym, and I’m sorry; but whatever you decide to do, I’ll support you. You have my word.”  

The boy nodded silently, staring at the (now closed) book on his lap. He bit his lip, as if searching for the courage to pose a question he didn’t want to hear the answer of.

“Do you think they’ll give him the death sentence?”

Father Brown didn’t answer, but his pained, bitter expression was answer enough. For a while they remained sitting side by side, both lost in their own thoughts, the boy still too young for the responsibility he was about to take, and the older priest who felt guilty for the pain he was inflicting, even though for the best of reasons. In the end, Maksym sobbed, just once, as if aware he had more important things to do than crying and didn’t want to waste any time.

“If he’s awake… and sober… will you help me talk to him?” he asked, and Father Brown nodded, resting his hand on the boy’s shoulder. 

“Of course.”

Two days ago

It was early morning when Lucaszek Czarniecki, forty-five years old, labourer by trade, turned up at the Kembleford Police Station, accompanied by Father Brown, walking behind him silently, and by his older son, who held his hand. They all looked sombre, but while the priest seemed pensive, a quiet sort of resignation tinged the face of father and son, making the family resemblance all the more striking. 

“It’s going to be alright, tatus” Maksym promised; his father didn’t look like he believed him, but nodded in response. 

Today

The grand opening of the Sweet Serenade ice cream parlour took place three days later than expected, but the success was immediate, and undisputed; the whole population of Kembleford, children as well as adults, seemed to be present, and the two local papers had also sent reporters and photographers. (name), wearing a dress the same colour of the shop’s walls, did the honours, personally preparing cones and cups and welcoming everyone. While nervous, the young woman was clearly happy, and every compliment and congratulation she received seemed to put her a little more at ease.

“Here’s your ice cream, father.” (name) said, standing behind the counter, as she handed the priest the cone she had just prepared; many other attendees had been served already, and judging from the many satisfied and impressed faces all around, it seemed like the ice cream shop had already gained many faithful clients “And a lemon and strawberry cup for mrs McCarthy, here you go. Please, take a spoon…”

Father Brown and his parish secretary thanked her and wasted no time before tasting their ice creams, which were as delicious as they expected. “You must be very proud of yourself, (name).” the priest said, and the young woman winked in response; she was wearing an apron over her dress.

“Let’s say I think I deserve it.”

“You want to take a break? I’ll man the place.” Bunty proposed as she joined the other woman; she looked way better, and happier, than two days before, and she shared a smile (name) returned, her eyes full of affection. 

“Have you ever used an ice cream spatula?”

“No, but how hard can it be?” 

“I’ll show you another time. But I think I can take…”

(name) stopped mid-sentence; following her eyes, the others noticed a group of boys and girls, residents of the village’s Polish camp, who had just entered the shop, all wearing their Sunday best, shy but curious. Father Brown and the three women smiled.

“Maksym, you came!” (name) exclaimed, leaving the space behind the counter to meet the boy leading the group. 

“Thanks for inviting us again, miss (last name).” he answered; he was pale, and clearly upset, but there was a trace of relief on his young face, as if he had just recovered from a long illness… even though it would take him years to feel healthy again “Especially after what happened. Hello Father, mrs McCarthy, miss Windermere.

“How are things at home, Maksym?” the older woman asked kindly.

“I think well, all things considered. My father has been arrested for Tadeusz’s murder, but since he spontaneously confessed, he’ll be able to avoid the death penalty. I’ll go visit him every time I can.”

“It was very brave of you to urge him to confess.” Bunty pointed out gently “And I am very grateful you did, since otherwise I would be the one behind bars.” 

Maksym smiled faintly at her; clearly knowing he was doing the right thing had not made it easier, and he still felt guilty for convincing his father to leave the family and give himself up. 

“Well, you were innocent; and Father Brown made me realise it wouldn’t have been right to let you take the blame for something you hadn’t done. I’m so sorry for what happened; my father told me he doesn’t know you, but he found your handbag in a drawer in Tadeusz’s caravan as he searched for money and he thought that it would make the police think it had been a woman to kill him…”

“No hard feelings, darling; let’s not speak of it again.”

“I have something to say instead.” (name) intervened “Maksym, Father Brown told me he’s very satisfied with you as St Mary’s new cleaner. Do you have any other client besides him?”

“Well… no, actually.” the boy answered, clearly surprised “After all I have just started…”

“In that case, how about you come work with me as well? Here at the shop; you’d have to clean the place a couple hours per day, before and after the opening hours.”

“Are you… are you serious?”

“Of course. I could train you as well, if you want, and you’d still have time to work for other people… and go to school, of course; that comes first.”

Maksym hesitated, torn between joy and embarrassment. “You’re not only offering because my father is in jail, are you?” he asked “And because I helped your friend? I appreciate it, really, but there’s no need.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about. I just need someone to do the cleaning around here, and if the shop is a success, like I hope, I’ll probably need an assistant as well. And if in the meantime I can help a hard-working young man support his family, so much the better. But you should know, I’ll make you work hard… and you can eat all the ice cream you want, obviously.”

“That’s amazing!” Maksym exclaimed, beaming at her; he clearly wasn’t just talking about the free ice cream “Thank you, miss (last name), thank you so much. I promise you won’t regret it.”

(name) said she was sure of it, and she and Maksym arranged to meet on the next day; the boy then returned to his friends.

“You did a very good thing, (name).”

The young woman smiled. “As I said, Father, I can’t take care of the shop all by myself; but yes, I’m glad I can help that poor boy, especially since he may very well have saved Bunty’s life.” 

Father Brown admitted that at the moment Maksym and his family did need all the support they could get; but they would manage, and the parish would try and help as well.

“On my part, I’m simply relieved I won't have to spend another night behind bars; Mallory wasn’t particularly happy he had to let me go.” Bunty commented “And also, last night I told my parents I am in a relationship with another woman.” 

“What?!”

As everyone stared at her, Bunty explained that, since Lucaszek Czarniecki had confessed his crime, it was no longer necessary for her to provide an alibi for the night Tadeusz Chodakievicz had been killed, and consequently that there was no need for her relationship with (name) to become public. “But I decided to do it all the same, since, a very wise woman once told me, a situation like this can help you distinguish between people who actually care about you and people who don’t. Last night I… called my parents to tell them about (name), that we are together and that I don’t intend to give up on her in any case.”

Father Brown looked impressed. “And how did they react?”

Bunty’s smile dimmed. “More or less like I imagined. The way my mother cried, you would have thought I had actually killed someone; and my father told me I am the shame of the family and he doesn’t want to see me at home ever again. I think he’s seriously considering disinheriting me.”

“Considering he has no other children I doubt he’ll actually do it.” an amused voice commented from the shop’s entrance. 

“Lady Felicia!” (name), mrs McCarthy and Father Brown exclaimed almost as one, while the woman, elegantly dressed in a strawberry-pink dress with matching hat and shoes, approached; Bunty almost ran to her.

“Aunt Fliss! What are you doing here?”

“I had been planning to come back for a visit next week, but this morning your father called me, and told me about your… confession; I think he expected me to agree with him, and wanted me to try and change your mind. Obviously I made it clear I am on your side, completely and uncompromisingly, and I decided to come earlier… especially because apparently I got here just in time for an important event!” 

Felicia, who had patronised the country’s most exclusive clubs and restaurants, looked all around her, impressed. “(name), this is really amazing. You have completely transformed this place, and look at how many people came! You must be really proud of yourself. Congratulations.”

“Thank you so much, lady Felicia.” the younger woman answered, beaming at her “Can I make you a cone? What flavour would you like?”

Felicia left her the choice (“But please, no vanilla.”), and once (name) had left she circled Bunty’s shoulders with her arm. 

“Your father will change his mind; give him time.” she reassured her “I don’t think he’ll ever approve of your choice, but deep down he does love you, and I think in the end he’ll come to terms with it, at least about forbidding you from returning home.”

Bunty shrugged; not unlike Maksym, she felt mostly at peace, and a little bitter, knowing her discussion with her father simply couldn’t have gone well. “I really hope so. I’m sorry if he’s angry, and if I made mom cry, but I’ll find a way to go on, and a job to support myself. In any case, I was tired of hiding, you know? It wasn’t fair; (name) deserved better.”

“You both deserve it, darling; and I’m very happy for you both.” Felicia said, resting her hand on her niece’s shoulder. Bunty smiled; it might take years before her parents spoke to her again, but fortunately at least part of her family was on her side. 

“Thank you, aunt Fliss; you don’t know how much this means to me.”

Felicia told her niece she absolutely wanted to take her and her girlfriend out to lunch to celebrate, on the next day; Bunty said she was fine with it. “I’ll ask (name).” she promised, before waltzing to her partner, who had gone back behind the counter.

They had been apart only for ten seconds, but (name) greeted Bunty with a kiss on her cheek. “Did I hear her wrong or your aunt called me your girlfriend?” 

“She did. Why? Something wrong with it?” 

“No, it’s not that.”

(name) handed a client the cone she had just prepared, and then took Bunty’s hands in hers, perfectly aware and unconcerned that many of the attendees could see them, and gossip about it. “That was very brave of you, Bunty; I really appreciate it.” she said; and she really did, so much that now she felt guilty her partner had to confront her own father for her sake “It’s just… I hope you didn’t feel forced to…” 

“By you? Not at all.” Bunty answered confidently; the phone conversation with her father had not been pleasant, hearing her mother cry and beg her to reconsider even less, but as she looked at (name)’s grateful and happy smile, she was sure she had made the right choice, one she would never regret no matter the consequences. “In any case, I hope you’re prepared, because from now on you won’t be able to escape.”

“I think I can cope with that.”

There was no need to say more; the two women shared a smile, and then (name) showed Bunty how to use a spatula to prepare an ice cream for her aunt; as they talked, they let their hands brush against each other. Father Brown and lady Felicia, now alone, looked at the two of them for a while, before exchanging a smile of their own.

“As I thought, living here in Kembleford with you was good for Bunty, Father. Just like it was for me.

“I’m not sure the merit is mine.” the priest confessed; he smiled as he enjoyed his ice cream “But I’m glad for them as well.”

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Sweet serenade (part 1)

Bunty Windermere x reader. This is part one of two.

My first Father Brown fic! The Polish resettlement camp mentioned here is the one Suzie lived in, even though it hasn’t been mentioned since season 1. I usually watch Father Brown dubbed in my language, which is why I’m not sure I can faithfully portray the “voice” of the characters, with the appropriate 1950s lingo and all that; any suggestion is appreciated!

Warning: mentions of homophobia.

*****

Ten years ago

Bunty Windermere, sixteen years, three months and four days old, weeps silently, cuddled up on the spacious bed, in her family’s stately home; the walls have been recently repainted in a pretty peach colour her mother has chosen, and Bunty dislikes. She has put on her nightgown to cover the chemise that was everything she had on when her parents arrived, and tears keep flowing down her face; tears of pain, and regret, and most of all, of shame.

Oh, Merry, Bunty thinks; that’s all she can do, since the person those apologies are directed to is gone, thrown out of the house she has worked faithfully in for more than a year, and she’ll probably never see her again. I am so sorry. It’s all my fault… 

Bunty’s bedroom is on the first floor, and her parents have decided to retire to the living room before starting to argue, which is why their voices arrive muffled to her ears - not so much, though, to make it impossible for Bunty to decipher their words, especially her father’s, since he’s the one who is almost shouting. A blasted invert… against nature… under my roof… disgusting… 

Her tears have all but washed away Bunty’s make-up, which she tried to copy from a ladies’ magazine to look nice for her date. Hands pressed to her ears, she wills herself to become deaf to those terrible insults and accusations, and so misses the soft noise of the door opening, and realises she’s not alone in the room anymore only when, lying on her stomach with her arms hiding her face, she catches a glimpse of a pair of elegant, high-heeled shoes approaching the bed.

“May I come in, Bunty?” Aunt Fliss asks softly, and after a moment of confusion the girl quickly remembers that of course, her aunt had been invited to that soirée -that blasted soirée, Bunty thinks resentfully; what adult people party ends before eleven at night?!- at the home of a friend of her parents, so it’s not surprising that she came home with them, maybe for a nightcap or something of the sort.

Felicia, newly engaged to lord Montague -a man Bunty doesn’t necessarily dislike, but she thinks her aunt deserves much better, or at least more than a man who is already losing his hair before turning forty- as usual impeccably dressed, stylish and just a little more daring that would normally be acceptable, doesn’t wait for an answer to her question, but goes sit on the bed next to her niece. She takes a look around -the clothes abandoned on the chair and chest of drawers, the books and magazines piled on the desk, a record by Édith Piaf Bunty had put on her phonograph to create what she hoped was the right atmosphere for the evening- comments that the room is as messy as her own was when she was her niece’s age and she likes it very much, and then, circling Bunty’s shoulders with her arm, she sweetly inquires: “You want to tell me what has happened?”

Bunty is pretty sure her aunt already knows -after all the shouting match has been going on for fifteen minutes already, that is since Felicia and her brother and sister-in-law have returned from the party- but since her aunt is the only real ally she has ever had within the family, Bunty decides to indulge her, no matter how ashamed she feels - not of the fact itself, but of the pain and trouble she has caused to someone who didn’t deserve any of it. 

“It… it’s about Merry - Meredith, I mean, our maid; she’s a year older than me, she lives in the attic.” she begins, without the courage to look her aunt in the eyes; with a pang of guilt, she realises she should now use the past tense “Mom and dad came back earlier than expected, and… and they found her here with me.”

A pause. 

“We were in bed together.”

“I had gathered that much, Penelope.” her aunt sighs, without breaking her hug; the revelation seems to have surprised her, but there is no trace of disgust or horror on her elegant face, which comforts Bunty more than she could explain in words. She can still hear her parents fight; she can hear her mother crying, which is something she is not used to, and that makes her feel as if a whole building were weighing on her back, crushing her to the ground. 

“Dad is very angry, isn’t he?”

“I’m afraid so, darling; and I fear Meredith will be forced to leave. But don’t worry, I’ll speak to your father and I’ll convince him to give her good references, so that she can find a new job.”

“If he refuses you could threaten to tell mum he is having an affair with that woman working at his club.” Bunty suggests, and smiles weakly at her aunt’s surprise; her brother’s infidelity is old news for Felicia, and this club woman is the latest of a long list, but she had no idea her niece was aware of the fact “I’m not the only one in the family with a secret, aren’t I?” 

“You clearly aren’t. How do you feel?” 

Bunty sobs as she turns on her side, looking helplessly at her aunt; she has never felt so alone, and she has never looked so young and helpless. “I feel wretched. It’s all my fault, now Merry will lose her job, while I’ll be forbidden to leave the house for a while at worst. It was my idea, I invited Merry to come here, and now I ruined her life…”

Felicia softly points out that she clearly didn’t mean to cause so much trouble for her friend, who in any case will easily find another job, and Bunty answers that doesn’t make her feel better at all. Merry may not be her soulmate, she’s already mature enough to know, but Bunty liked her very much, and while she meant well when she started flirting with the young maid and knows Merry reciprocated the interest in full, she never stopped to think about what their difference in status may mean should they be discovered.  

“Aunt Fliss?”

“Yes, darling?” Felicia asks kindly, and Bunty looks at her. Felicia Windermere is no saint, and her niece knows what is being said about her, about her friends and those parties she attends where most of the attendees arrive with a partner and leave with another, but she doesn’t care; her aunt is a clever, resourceful woman, one who has always gone her own way without letting herself being influenced by critics and disapproval. Bunty trusts Felicia, she actually wishes she were a lot like her, and because of this she finds the courage to ask for… what? Absolution? Or maybe simply understanding…

“Is what Merry and I were doing so wrong? I am… very fond of her, and she of me, no one had been forced…” 

Felicia sighs as she looks at her niece, not unkindly, as she thinks back to when she was Bunty’s age and questions like that still made sense. A melancholic smile brushes against her rouged lips; she is decidedly not the most appropriate person to teach a young girl what is right or wrong concerning matters of the heart and she knows. “I wish I could tell you that as long as you hurt no one you can be free to live your life as you please.” she murmurs in the end “Unfortunately that is not how things work, and you are old enough to understand this. But there is one thing I want you to remember: don’t let anyone, especially not a person as close-minded as your father, make you feel ashamed about yourself, and tell you who to be fond of - who to love.”

Bunty’s smile is bitter as she dries her tears on the back of her hand - too bitter for her age, and for a person whose only sin has been to follow the desires of her heart. “If he catches me with a girl again I think dad would kill me; or even worse, put me in a convent.” she points out softly, only partially exaggerating, and her aunt admits that yes, her brother may accept a daughter who flirts with boys, but finding her with a person of her own gender…in that case the consequences could very well be catastrophic.

Felicia takes her niece’s face in her hands. “Try looking after yourself, Penelope” she advises, her eyes full of affection and concern, and Bunty promises she will. 

Six months ago

Bunty Windermere, twenty-five years, seven months and twelve days old, walks leisurely through the streets of Kembleford, an odd feeling, both resignation and hope, filling her heart. She is obviously happy to have escaped the latest row with her parents -her father especially- and since aunt Fliss had spoken so well about the village in her letters she is sure she’ll feel right at ease as well, but this place is so tiny… there is no night club or bar, the shops are so few she can count them on one hand and the most exciting event of the year must be the parish bingo at Christmas. She has met Father Brown only yesterday and she knows he is an exceptional person already, and mrs McCarthy, who she has heard so much about from her aunt it is almost as if they knew each other already, has been very kind to her as well, but people here go to bed with the sun and there is really nothing to do, nothing a person her age could do to pass the time and have some fun…

She’s walking along an empty unpaved road at the edge of the village, not far from the Polish resettlement camp, a gentle wind making the hem of her skirt twirl around her calves, her blue handbag hanging from her elbow. Bunty is so deep in her thoughts she doesn’t realise she’s no longer alone on the path until it’s too late; one moment the roar of an approaching engine behind her reaches her ears…

… and the next a moped, coming down the road at full speed, reaches her, and as the vehicle passes her the driver reaches towards Bunty, grabs the strap of her handbag and snatches it off her. 

A strangled cry, due more to surprise than fear or pain, escapes Bunty’s lips; she stumbles, already vaguely aware of what has happened but too shaken to react, and a moment later she has lost her balance, and she is falling, face forward onto the ground, and she knows it’s going to hurt, a lot, but she can’t do anything to stop it… 

She hits the ground hard, and pain explodes inside her; Bunty remains still for a minute, dizzy and still partially uncomprehending, before cautiously checking herself for damages; her face is miraculously uninjured, but she has hit both her right elbow and knee, and she can feel blood trickling down her leg. 

Those few seconds were enough to allow the moped, and the person driving it, to get away, the engine noise already disappearing in the distance. Bunty swears (something she had ordered herself never to do when in Father Brown’s company, or mrs McCarthy’s) under her breath. She had never been mugged in her life, a positive streak she’d rather not have broken. It’s really absurd, nothing ever happened to her when she lived in London, and then, after she moves to a tiny, sleepy village…!

“Oh, my God…!”

An alarmed, female voice fills the air, and then the sound of an hurried walk. Bunty blinks and, still lying on her stomach, sees a pair of sturdy brown boots enter her field of vision, and then a pair of knees, as their owner squats in front of her. “Are you alright? Did you hurt your head?” 

“No, I… I’m fine, I think.”

“Oh, that’s a relief. Give me your hand; can you stand?”

She can, and she does, the other woman ready to intervene should she stumble or lose balance again. “I saw what happened, but I was too far to intervene.” she explains, as if Bunty could accuse her otherwise; the moped has disappeared in the countryside surrounding the village, and the two women, being on foot, have no way to reach it “Did you see who it was?”

Bunty shakes her head as she checks herself; fortunately the one on her elbow is just a scratch, but her left leg is bleeding. She gratefully accepts the handkerchief the other woman quickly retrieves from her own handbag and offers her, and she reflects that she has to adjust her opinion on Kembleford, the village is not as sleepy and boring as she expected at all! Lovely, I’ve been here for less than a day and I have been mugged already… 

“Unfortunately no; it was a man, of that I’m pretty sure, but I couldn’t see his face.” she explains “And in any case I don’t know anyone yet, here in the village, so…”

The woman beams at her; she has a lovely smile, Bunty can’t help noticing.

“Ah! You must be lady Felicia’s niece; Father Brown mentioned you had moved here. Your name is Penelope, yes?”

It is; but she has not thought of herself as a Penelope since she was six. “I’m Bunty, Bunty Windermere.”

“It’s very nice to meet you; I’m (name), (full name).” 

They shake hands, and Bunty finds herself looking curiously at the other woman: she’s the first person her own age she meets after her arrival in Kembleford. (name) smiles at her, but a moment later her cheeks turn pink. “Oh, I’m so sorry; you have just been robbed, and I waste time making small talk…”

Bunty shakes her head; she’s still upset, but (name)’s presence is having a positive, reassuring effect on her… as if she couldn’t help feeling better, even though her handbag is lost and the other woman can’t do anything to help her.

“It’s no problem, really; it was good of you to come assist me.”

“Don’t mention it, I just wish I were close enough to intervene. I’m sorry for your handbag; did you have… something important in it…?”

Bunty shrugs; fortunately she didn’t expect to have a reason to carry money with her in Kembleford, since there are no clothing shops or restaurants. “Not much, but it had my favourite lipstick inside, and my documents… Well, I can ask for a new copy of those. I’m mainly sorry about the handbag, it was a gift from my aunt…” 

(name) frowns, her hands in her skirt’s pockets. She couldn’t look more vexed if she had been mugged herself, Bunty thinks with a sudden surge of affection, an unexpected feeling given the fact they have just met.

“I’m so sorry for what happened, and just a day after your arrival in Kembleford, I don’t even want to know what you must be thinking about the people here…”

“Well, unfortunately I know there are muggers everywhere, as well as good people.” Bunty points out; the idea of a person feeling sorry for another’s opinion on her town is a bit odd… but sweet “Are you… part of the village’s welcoming committee, by any chance?”

The question makes (name) blush adorably. “Well, no; but I’ve lived in Kembleford since I was born, and I’d like newcomers to feel at ease and welcome as well. Also, your aunt has always been kind to me.”

“You know her?”

“I’ve worked as a maid at Montague Manor when I was younger; I’m starting my own business now, or at least I’m trying, but she helped me a lot for years. You want to come to my place? I live down the road, you’re welcome to have some tea, if you want, or if you need to clean that wound on your leg.”

It is sweet of her, Bunty thinks, to worry about a person she has just met; (name) seems nice… and she’s also very pretty, she thinks without actually considering the fact - for now. “I think I’ll survive, thank you.” she says; she looks at (name), and (name) looks at her, and suddenly both of them are smiling “But I wouldn’t say no to a cup of tea, if it’s not too much of a bother.” 

The other woman’s response is quick, and sincere; even impassioned. “It’s no bother at all; quite the opposite.” she says; even so, there is something shy in the way she bites her lip, as if fearing her new acquaintance won’t find her company interesting enough to justify accepting her offer “Come with me, then.” 

Side by side, the two women start down the road, the sun slowly setting down behind them and the theft of the handbag all but forgotten. 

Three days ago

Bunty Windermere, twenty-six years, one month and nineteen days old, stopped dusting one of the round tables arranged around the room’s perimeter and grinned as (name) bent over the table and kissed her nose. 

“To what do I owe this display of affection?” she inquired, and the other woman winked as she smiled, that open, sunny smile that, six months after their first meeting, still had the power to make Bunty’s heart tremble. 

“To the fact that you are so adorable I simply couldn’t resist; and as a thank you for all the help you’re giving me, obviously.”

Bunty, who like her partner was wearing old trousers and a blouse already stained with green paint after the two of them had spent an hour preparing the sign to hang above the shop’s door, admitted that sweeping the floor and unpacking boxes of supplies was not exactly her idea of a fun morning. “Which is why I expect to be paid, mind you.”

(name), who looked happier and more excited than ever even though she had never been so busy, or running on so little sleep, pretended to think about it. “That can be arranged. Do you accept payments in kind?”

“From you? I might as well…”

The two women exchanged a smile, and then (name) turned to look all around her, equally proud and nervous for her shop. The room had a circular shape, the walls painted teal, her favourite colour; comfortable stools and chairs surrounded the round tables, while the counter was still empty, ready to be filled with fruit or cream-flavoured desserts. A second large banner, that Bunty had prepared herself since she couldn’t find one she deemed appropriate in the shops, hung from the ceiling. “SWEET SERENADE ICE CREAM PARLOUR - GRAND OPENING TODAY” it said in large, bright letters. 

Bunty smiled; she reached (name) and circled her shoulders with an arm. “Are you excited?”

“Excited? I haven’t slept for a week!” (name) exclaimed; she bit her lip, suddenly unsure “What if no one comes?” 

“I’m sure they’ll all come. Yours will be the first ice cream parlour in Kembleford, and the whole village has been talking about it for weeks. I’m sure you’ll have an incredible success.”

“I hope so! I’ve worked in six restaurants or cafés since I was maybe twelve, and I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it, but this place is my own, and an ice cream parlour…” (name) bit her lip, as if not daring to believe her lifelong dream was finally about to become reality “I can’t wait for the shop to open! I really hope people like it.”

“I’m sure they will; it’ll go splendidly, since you have devoted so much time and effort to it. You should be proud of yourself, (name).” Bunty urged her; she remained silent for a moment before adding: “I am, in case you want to know.”

For a moment they simply stared at each other, wordlessly, two practically dressed young women -they planned on changing before the grand opening; as the shop’s owner (name) was determined to look her best for her new clients, while Bunty had always taken a leaf out of her aunt’s book and never appeared in public looking less than fabulous- a little weary after a whole morning spent cleaning the ice cream parlour and preparing it for its debut, and breathless for a completely different reason. Bunty felt suddenly shy, even a little self-conscious, which was absurd, since she had not uttered a love declaration, not at all, she had simply made an observation, even though for her standards -the standards of a woman who had had many flings and special friendships, but could count the real relationships of her life on one hand… and still have a couple of fingers to spare- that was no small matters, and she felt deeply close to the woman in front of her, a woman she had been fond of since their first meeting, when (name)’s sincere concern and earnest offer for help had won her over without either of them realising. It was difficult to give a name to, to define, that relationship, that was friendship and passion and trust and affection and empathy all in one, and yet so much more, a feeling she wasn’t used to and that, truth to be told, scared her a little, but Bunty knew she could never give up on…

She remained waiting, almost holding her breath, for a reaction, and thank God (name) did not disappoint; the other woman took her hands in her own, and smiled in that special way she had, happy and beautiful. “Of course I want to know; I care about your opinion more than anyone else’s.”

“... really?”

“You know it, Bunty. You know how much I care for you… and I don’t want to brag, but I know you care about me as well.” (name) said; she grinned, her eyebrow raised “Or am I wrong?”

A moment later they were in each other’s arms, joined in a kiss so intense it made both of their heads spin; it was a sweet moment, intense beyond words, but Bunty felt stupid -worse, she felt a coward- because she knew what was between her and (name) was special, almost magical, and she would have wanted nothing better than to shout it to the whole world, but she couldn’t, and the fault was her father’s, and the threats that had remained with her for ten years’, but still…

Cowardly. Cowardly and mean. 

… still, she knew it was unfair, and that the other woman deserved better.

“Is everything all right?” (name) inquired; she broke their kiss, and placed her hand against Bunty’s cheek; she was wearing a simple ring - her greatest treasure, she had explained to the other woman, not because of the jewel’s intrinsic value but because it had belonged to her mother “Bunty, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Bunty reassured her, forcing herself to smile; she felt guilty, as if she had cruelly hurt (name), and it pained her enormously. She was searching for a way to change the subject when, to her immense relief, she realised they were not alone in the shop anymore, which gave her a pretext to let the conversation drop.

“Hello, Father.” she said, looking towards the door and missing the disappointment on (name)’s face “Hello, mrs McCarthy. You’re more than a little early.”

“Are you quite sure you have made the right decision? What I mean to say is, he seems like a proper boy, polite, but you know what sort of family he was born in…”

“As I said already, the fact that Maksym’s father has made some mistakes, and that perhaps he will make some more in the future, doesn’t matter; the boy needs a job to help support his family, while we need someone to do the cleaning at St Mary’s. And in any case, what are you so afraid of? He can’t very well steal a confessional, can he?”

On that clear, sunny morning, Father Brown and his parish secretary had decided to take the long way to reach St Mary’s church, enjoying a brief walk before checking on the new cleaner’s first day of work. Mrs McCarthy sighed, still unsure the object of their discussion was up to the task. “It is true that there are no objects of value in the church.” she admitted; she waited for the priest to stop and greet a parishioner walking past them, and then added, her voice lowered to a whisper: “But even so, I’d feel more at ease if we waited a week before hiring him on a permanent basis.”

“That sounds reasonable. I’m sure Maksym will not disappoint.”

The priest and his faithful companion went through the church’s front door, and even the fastidious (she would have said particular) mrs McCarthy had to admit the wide room, bathed in the late morning’s light, looked way better than the day before; the single aisle’s floor had been swept meticulously, and the old wooden pews, each with two prayers’ books neatly placed on the seat, looked freshly dusted. The new cleaner had also replaced the flowers in the vase next to the altar, a gift from a parishioner’s garden, and polished the brass candle-holders on the sides of the door. “Well, he clearly didn’t inherit his father’s slacking tendencies.” she admitted.

Her approval made Father Brown smile. “Good morning, Maksym.” he said then, noticing the newly-hired cleaner, walking towards them from the other end of the church, and who smiled broadly in response. Maksym Czarniecki had recently turned fifteen, and lived in Kemblefold’s Polish resettlement camp; he was a sandy-haired, tall and slender boy, serious and polite when he wasn’t too shy to express himself. Father Brown was quite fond of him, and had been happy to give him a job. “We were just saying you’re doing a very good job.”

“Good morning, Father; good morning, mrs McCarthy.” the boy replied politely, the handle of a broom grasped in his hands; like many of the Polish camp’s residents, he spoke with a heavy accent, but his English was better than most “Thank you. I have just finished sweeping the floors here, and now I’ll do the same in the sacristy. I think I’ll be done by lunch time.” 

“There is no rush, the afternoon mass is at five. Do you have everything you need?”

Maksym thought about it for a moment, more focused on the matter than many would have been in his place. “Now that you mention it I could need some more detergent for the floors; do you mind if I go check?”

Father Brown answered that they didn’t mind waiting and Maksym left, hurrying towards the sacristy, connected to the church’s main room through a small door behind the confessional. “Are you sure you want to visit (name)’s shop before the opening ceremony?” mrs McCarthy asked as she examined the church’s floor in search of remaining dust grains “It is not exactly along the way home.”

“Of course. (name) has worked so much to make her dream of opening an ice cream parlour come true, and I think she needs all the support she can get; I want to wish her good luck.” 

“You’re only saying that because you hope she’ll give you some extra ice cream.”

The priest simply smiled in response, without denying; gluttony was a deadly sin, but he was confident a cup of chocolate and lemon ice cream wouldn’t lead him to perdition. 

Mrs McCarthy, whose floor inspection had yielded satisfactory results, hesitated for a moment before changing the subject… to one she didn’t feel quite comfortable discussing. 

“You know that after Bunty moved here in Kembleford she and (name) have become… great friends.” she started in the end; Father Brown, who knew her well enough to perceive where his parish’s secretary was getting at, pretended not to.

“Of course, they have been joined at the hip since they first met; it’s almost impossible to meet one of them without the other.”

“Exactly, about that…”

Mrs McCarthy looked quickly all around herself, as if fearing the walls or the wooden pews could listen… and chide her for discussing such scandalous matters; her voice dropped even lower. “You know as well as I do that for years there have been rumours in the village about (name)’s… inclinations.” she explained “And we know that Bunty is not exactly shy when… relationships are concerned. Besides, either she has finally started making her own bed after getting up, or in the last few weeks she has started sleeping out regularly… including last night.”

All of a sudden, Father Brown looked very focused on a damp spot on the nearest wall. 

“So I was wondering… if there was something between them; something that went beyond friendship. If they were… I mean, together. What do you think?”

“I think it is very nice that two young, adult, unmarried women, one of whom knew no one when she moved here in the village and the other who lost her only family when she was little more than a child, have become close and able to find companionship and comfort in each other. Don’t you agree?”

“Well, yes, of course.” mrs McCarthy admitted, impatient; the truth was, she was fond of both (name) and Bunty, even though she didn’t quite know what to make of their relationship. If only Father Brown would meet her halfway, instead of playing dumb! “They are both good girls, that’s for sure, but…”  

“I found it!” Maksym announced, joining the two once more and inadvertently putting an end to their conversation; part of mrs McCarthy was vaguely annoyed, but the other was almost thankful “Sorry if I kept you waiting, Father, I have two bottles of floor detergent, it will be enough for two weeks at least.”

“That is good to hear. Tell me, Maksym, do you know a woman named (full name)?” Father Brown inquired, who had just gotten an idea. 

“Of course, she’s that lady who lives near the greengrocer; sometimes I meet her on my way to school.”

“Well, perhaps you know already, but in the afternoon there will be the opening of (name)’s new ice cream parlour. Why don’t you come? It should be fun.”

Maksym looked interested, even thrilled, for a moment, but then his expression changed to one of regret, and he said he’d better not come. “It’s not because I don’t like ice cream.” he explained when Father Brown asked him “I do, even though I have only eaten it once. It’s just… Well, at the moment I have no money, so…”

Father Brown kindly pointed out that he wouldn’t need to pay, since for the opening the ice cream would be offered for free, in order to attract the attention of potential clients. “So you can simply go and ask for a cone the flavour you prefer.”

“Yes, but… won’t miss (name) mind that I scrounge off her? We at the camp don’t have much, I doubt we’ll be able to buy ice cream from her.”

“I’m sure (name) won’t mind,” mrs McCarthy reassured him; she wasn’t sure yet Father Brown had made the right decision hiring a person of not proven experience to take care of the church’s cleaning, but she couldn’t help appreciating the boy’s integrity “And if you want to be sure of it, you can come with us and ask her… and then return here to finish cleaning up.” 

Maksym, happy and with his conscience clear, accepted; as the boy went to put away his broom, Father Brown smiled gratefully at his parish secretary, who simply smiled in return. A minute later, the trio was leaving St Mary’s and, walking unhurriedly in the early spring’s warmth, reached the still un-inaugurated ice cream parlour. The small building, not far from Kemblefold’s main square, had hosted a barbershop until the previous year, and when the owner had retired (name) had taken the opportunity to buy it for a reasonable sum and repurpose it. 

As they entered, Maksym looked around, openly curious. “This is a nice place; I had never been in an ice cream shop.” he mentioned, while Father Brown and mrs McCarthy’s eyes immediately darted to (name) and Bunty, standing in the middle of the room… holding each other in an embrace, just a little too tight to be purely friendly.

They both instantly decided to pretend nothing happened… and they weren’t the only ones.

“Hello, Father.” Bunty said, smiling, a bit forcefully, at both; she was still wearing the same clothes as the previous evening and she was sure both the priest and his parish secretary had noticed “Hello, mrs McCarthy. You’re more than a little early.”

“We thought we would come to see how you are managing, and wish (name) good luck for her big day.” Father Brown explained, earning a large, grateful smile from the shop’s owner “And this is Maksym, our new cleaner… he had a question for you, (name).”

Clearly shy but politely, the boy explained his situation, and (name) told him he had no reason to worry. “This afternoon all residents of Kembleford will be my guests, and the more people will come, the happier I will be.” she reassured him; she had never spoken to Maksym before, since she had no friends at the Polish camp and the boy seemed to mainly hang around people his age, but he looked polite and well-mannered, and she appreciated his worrying about exploiting her “I’d really like you to come, and your friends from the camp as well.”

Maksym beamed at her, as if (name) had offered him a thousand pounds as a present. “Amazing! I’ll definitely come, miss (last name).”

(name) smiled, touched by his enthusiasm; no one better than her knew how a small treat, even a cheap ice cream, could make a person feel better, and offer a moment of joy even in the darkest of times. Her own parents had used to bring her to eat an ice cream at a café out of Kembleford every sunday after mass; she missed them more than the tasty dessert, of course, but she liked to think opening her own shop also meant honouring their memory.

“You’re more than welcome, precious. And you will come, will you, Father? It’d mean a lot if you wanted to bless the shop as well.”

Father Brown answered that he would be happy to. 

“What about you, mrs McCarthy?” Bunty inquired with a smile; she was still holding (name)’s arm under hers “Fancy an ice cream come?”

“I wouldn’t know; actually I had decided to start dieting…”

“Oh, come on; you don’t need to lose weight.” (name) pointed out courteously “And fruity ice creams are lower in fat than creamy ones, so if you get one of those you will be safe.” Flattered by the compliment, mrs McCarthy replied that maybe she could indulge in a little treat, as long as it was just a small cup.

“Is there anything you need, (name)?”

“I think I’m all set, Father. The suppliers should be here in half an hour, and thanks to Bunty I am almost done with cleaning the place.”

“All right, then; I can’t wait to taste that dark chocolate you told me so much about.”

(name) promised she would save him a cup, and a moment later the shop’s door opened once more. Inspector Mallory, who wore a grey raincoat, marched in, sergeant Goodfellow following suit.

“Hello, inspector.” (name) greeted him; she didn’t particularly like the head of the local police and was pretty sure she was unloved in return, but in her days as a waitress and maid she had had her share of unpleasant clients and guests, and was used to put on a good face and treat politely people who didn’t deserve it “Hello, sergeant. If you’re here for the opening I’m afraid you’re a few hours early.”

“I’m not here to eat an ice cream.” the inspector answered brusquely, before turning his eyes to Father Brown “Why are you here, Padre?”

“I just came to wish (name) good luck for the opening of her shop.” the priest answered, imperturbable “What about you? What brings you here?”

“My job, obviously; and I probably shouldn’t be surprised to find you there, since you are in the habit of getting involved in matters that don’t concern you. Although this time you have missed the crime scene; starting to slacken, are you?”

Before any of those present could ask the meaning of those words, Mallory had Goodfellow pass him the handcuffs the sergeant carried at his belt… and then, to the shock of all, stood in front of Bunty to put them on her wrists. “Penelope Windermere, I’m arresting you for the murder of Tadeusz Chodakievicz.”

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Getting married to Bunty would involve...

Bunty Windermere x reader. Meant to be a sequel to my fic Sweet Serenade (part 1 - part 2) but can be read in any case.

*****

👰 You and Bunty have been together for five years; she moved from the presbytery to share your apartment, and your relationship couldn’t be more solid and affectionate. Both of you can’t imagine your lives if not side by side, and are faithful and supportive towards each other.

👰 You start thinking about formalising your and your partner’s commitment to each other when you and Bunty are invited to the wedding of a (female) friend of yours and her (male) fiancé. A few days later, as you stroll together on the outskirts of the village enjoying the quiet of the newly-arrived summer night, you breach the subject with your partner. “Say, what about we get married?”

👰 At first -and even at second- Bunty thinks you are joking, and you can’t blame her for it. Being both women, you know well marriage, both civil and religious, is not something you could ever realistically aspire to, since both the law and the scriptures don’t contemplate and recognise same-sex unions. Factually, your situation is not so different from any married couple: you cohabit, share expenses and housework, take care of each other when one of the two is sick, eat your meals at the same table (you cook, she sets the table and cleans up) and sleep in the same bed. Your love can’t be officialized by authorities of any kind, but in the end, you both know how lucky you are to have Met each other, and are happy with what you have.

👰 You really are; still, the more you think about it, the more convinced you feel. “I’m not joking. I know we can’t go to the village hall and request a marriage certificate, and neither grab a couple of witnesses and ask Father Brown to say a few words.” you admit “And I know many people here in the village insist on calling us a couple of very dear friends or housemates; and I don’t care. It could be just… a way to express our love for each other, like couples do on their anniversaries or to renew their vows. We could ask Father Brown for a blessing, exchange rings, and share a meal with our friends to celebrate together.”

👰 Bunty reflects on it for a while, pensive as she walks unhurriedly towards the home you now share, her fingers intertwined with yours. “So it wouldn’t actually change anything; you want it to be a way to say how important we are for each other to the friends we trust the most, which means maybe ten people in total, and make a day of it?” she asks, and you nod, a bit disappointed by her apparent lack of enthusiasm. “What do you think?” you ask, ready to receive a refusal; you know Bunty loves you, and you don’t need any celebration or formal occasion to know you have chosen each other and want to remain together forever, but the idea of a wedding, no matter how informal and non-binding, had grown on you…

👰 You are walking past St Mary’s church, the street empty but for you. Bunty stops and turns to take both of your hands in hers; the sky above is full of stars, but none of them shines as bright as her eyes as she regards you, her smile full of love and joy. “I think I’ll not answer until you ask me properly, even if you don’t have a ring yet.” she declares in mock-seriousness, and you sigh, relieved and excited, as you kneel, the words of the impromptu proposal spontaneously leaving your lips. “Penelope Windermere, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?” “Yes! Yes, of course I will!”

👰 The kiss you exchange that night is the sweetest of your life, full of promises and shared hope; on the next day, the preparations for your wedding officially begin. 

👰 The first people you tell are obviously your friends at the parish; Father Brown’s reaction is one of rejoicing, and he hugs both of you as a real father would, offering his deepest congratulations. Mrs McCarthy’s response is slow to come, simply because the parish secretary is so overcome with emotion she cannot speak. At first she didn’t quite know what to think about a romantic and physical relationship between two women, no matter how much she liked and respected both you and Bunty, but after seeing how happy the two of you make each other and how close you are she has always been your biggest supporter, acting as peacemaker during your rare fights and even reprimanding your most vocal detractors. Knowing you have decided to tie the knot makes her prouder than to see her own granddaughters do the same. 

👰 The wedding date is quickly set; the only invitees will be your dearest friends, including sergeant Goodfellow and your assistant Maksym (by now an handsome young man, an hard worker who next year will leave Kembleford to study at a nearby college, having won a prestigious scholarship) and lady Felicia, who will come especially for the occasion. She’ll be the only representative of both of your families, since you have no close relatives after the loss of your parents and Bunty is unfortunately still on non-speaking terms with hers. 

👰 You obviously cannot get married with a regular Catholic rite, but Father Brown offers to administer an especially written blessing. You will then celebrate at the Sweet Serenade ice-cream parlour, your pride and joy that has been a booming success since its first opening, with a small reception; mrs McCarthy has promised to prepare her famous strawberry scones and there will of course be ice-cream for everyone. 

👰 A few days before the wedding you and Bunty visit a local solicitor and have her draft a document you both sign, formally recognizing each other as your sole heir and next of kin, which gives each of you power of attorney in case the other falls ill, is incapacitated or -in a million years- passes away. Bunty, who has always had a robust health, is relieved it won’t be her parents who make choices for her, since she wouldn’t put past them to euthanize her for a low-grade fever, and you are relieved the house of your parents, where you have grown up, and your beloved ice-cream parlour will be in safe hands should you be unable to take care of them. 

👰 You sign the document first, writing (name) (last name)-Windermere without a moment of hesitation; seeing it, Bunty has to choke back tears, and happily sign with the double surname as well. 

👰 Later that day, you take Bunty’s car to a larger town to go ring shopping; your choice falls on a pair of simple bands of gold with a small gem of a colour you choose for each other on top, as a compromise since the decision to marry as soon as possible has made engagement rings unnecessary, and that you have engraved with your names - in your partner’s case obviously Bunty and not Penelope. The shop’s owner, at first incredulous that two women are buying what are essentially wedding rings, treats you with cold courtesy and doesn’t hide his contempt for your lifestyle choices, but the sales assistant who serves you is much kinder, offering to have the rings delivered to your home free of charge. In the eyes of that woman you don’t know and will probably never meet again you see understanding, and even kindness; moments like this are what give you hope for the future.

👰 You have no other task to carry out, since you are already living together and nothing will change in your lives after the wedding, but nonetheless you feel a new chapter is beginning for the two of you, a new stage of your future, and you can’t wait to see what it will bring. 

👰 Lady Felicia has obviously been informed of the event by telephone, and arrives in Kembleford the day before the wedding; when you and Bunty meet her at the station, the woman who is by now also an aunt for you and who cares for you just like she does for her own niece hugs both tightly, whispering how proud and happy she is you decided to take the plunge. 

👰 You don’t have an hen party, but you decide to spend your last night as unmarried women separately, like all engaged couples do, so Bunty takes her things and moves to Montague Manor. You kiss passionately before she leaves, both excited at the thought that the next time you see each other will be at the altar.

👰 You force yourself to go to bed early, reassured after a last check everything has been prepared or discussed so that it will be ready for the ceremony. Slanderers -like the quite a few residents of Kembleford who still look at you and your partner with reproach as you walk hand in hand around the village and buy each other flowers for Valentine’s day- would say this is all nonsense, that the ceremony you will take part in tomorrow is nothing more than children playing knights or wizards, an elaborate farce that will have no legal meaning; you don’t care, because you have long learnt to live your life according to your own feelings and thoughts, without being influenced by people who clearly care nothing for you. Being able to call Bunty your wife officially, legally, would be amazing, a dream, but both you and your partner know that legal recognition and social acceptance are secondary… what matters the most are your feelings, your loyalty and devotion to each other, for better or worse, and that you know in your house will never be lacking.  

👰 You both decided you would wear white as is normal for brides. Your mother’s old wedding dress unfortunately doesn’t fit you, but you wear her veil; Bunty’s dress is new, bought with the money she had put aside for a gift for you - which this is, after all. 

👰 You reach St Mary’s separately, Bunty with her car and you with the one Felicia has sent to pick you up. Your friends have decorated the church with flowers and white tulle, like it is common for weddings - a thoughtful gesture that fills your heart with joy and gratitude. At the entrance Maksym gives you two small but lovely bouquets of flowers he has bought at the village, and when you find yourself face to face in front of the altar, emotion fills both you and Bunty’s heart. Your friends fill the church’s (first two) pews, happy and proud to witness such an important moment, but you and your partner only have eyes for each other, almost incredulous you are really doing it, and each humbled by the fact the other has accepted to put their happiness in your hands. “Part of me feared you had changed your mind.” you whisper shyly, and Bunty smiles. “Well, I did plan on arriving fashionably late, like many brides do, but I was too excited to see you.”

👰 Father Brown invites you to kneel in front of him, and pronounces a brief but heart-felt speech, describing the depth of the love between you and Bunty, and praising the courage with which you have now for years supported and protected each other in the face of adversities and harassers. You both bow your heads as he blesses you, then mrs McCarthy passes you the rings; you put Bunty’s on her left ring finger, and she does the same with yours as you exchange your vows: your partner’s voice is firm but full of joy, while yours trembles a bit; usually it is invitees who cry at the weddings, but in your case it is one of the brides. 

👰 “I, (name), take you, Bunty, as my wife; I promise to stand by your side, to protect you when you are in danger and to dry your tears when you are sad; in joy and pain, at our best and worst, in sickness and in health, I pledge I will never leave you alone. This is my solemn vow; I don’t know what the future may hold for us, but I know we will face it together.”

👰 “I, Bunty, take you, (name), as my wife. I promise to always share my thoughts with you, and to treat you with trust, respect, and kindness; what I have is yours, and what I am is yours as well. I will be faithful to you and to the future we want to build together. I have been fortunate enough to deserve your love in this life, and I hope I will do it again in the next.” 

👰 A loud cheering meets the end of the ceremony, and the kiss you and Bunty exchange. “Hello, wife.” you both say at the same time, and laugh, and then you leave the church hand in hand, surrounded by congratulations and a shower of rice thrown by your friends. Your heart is soaring; a month ago this was just a thought, a fantasy you weren’t even sure you would share with Bunty, and now it’s all real, you are married! You can’t stop kissing her, and your wife is radiant as you both receive the congratulations of your friends, one of her hands still firmly holding yours.

👰 Soon the whole party moves to the ice-cream parlour, where mrs McCarthy has helped you prepare a delicious wedding feast; the parish secretary hugs Bunty, telling her how proud and happy for both of you she feels, while you thank Father Brown, who really went above and beyond what you had asked him. “I hope this will not cause you any problem at the Diocese, Father; nor with...” you mention, eloquently pointing upwards with your finger, and your old friend smiles, simply explaining that while he would rather the Bishop remain oblivious what you have done today, he is confident God will not blame him for helping two of His children formalise their love and feel accepted in their community. 

👰 Bunty’s parents know about the ceremony, since her father overheard Felicia discuss the wedding cake and the honeymoon destination over the phone with mrs McCarthy. Your wife can’t help herself and asks her aunt how they reacted, or if they sent her a symbolic gift or at least their felicitations, and Felicia, sorely tempted to lie in order not to sadden her niece on such a happy day, is forced to shake her head and admit her brother and sister-in-law’s opinion on their daughter’s choices have not changed after five years. Bunty did not expect differently, but her eyes fill with tears, having hoped against hope her parents would break their self-imposed silence to congratulate her, or at least acknowledge what is after all one of the most important moments in a person’s -a daughter’s!- life. It’s not like you to be so naive, Penelope, she mentally chides herself, and then fortunately you arrive to take her hand for your first dance as married women, distracting her from any melancholic thought.

👰 The song for your first dance is Love me tender, courtesy of your old gramophone; Tell me you are mine, I’ll be yours through all the years, Elvis sings, and as you and Bunty hold each other slowly circling around the room, you think the King is perfectly expressing your feelings as well as his, and that the intensity with which Bunty is now part of you is almost scary, because no person should have such an influence on another. But this is what it means to be in love, perhaps, and while you can’t speak for the rest of the world you at least know you have nothing to worry about, because your wife is aware of how in love with and devoted to her you are, and will always cherish the feelings you have entrusted her with. 

👰 At the end of the delicious banquet, and many toasts raised to your and your bride’s health and future happiness, your guests insist on helping clean up and leave you alone. Felicia lingers a little longer than the others, and waits to be alone with the two of you to reveal she has arranged for a special gift to celebrate your big day: two train tickets to no less than Paris!! You will be staying at the apartment of an old friend of hers, a kind and trustworthy woman who will house you for a whole week free of charge. It is way better than the honeymoon you and your wife had decided on and could afford -a weekend in Bath- and you both scream in glee, hugging Felicia and thanking her repeatedly. 

👰 In the end you and your wife leave the ice-cream parlour as well, and take your time returning home, hand in hand. “Does it feel different?” Bunty asks after a while, and having reflected on the matter for a moment you admit nothing substantial has changed between the two of you, since your feelings were already as deep and intense as they could be, and the ceremony has unfortunately no legal value. “But I’m happy we have done it.” you add, squeezing her hand and glancing down to admire the matching rings you now wear “I don’t know how to explain it… it feels right. Rightful, even, to tell the world we are in for the long run, even though many people will never accept it.” “I agree.” Bunty whispers, and then smiles, stopping under the branches of a great tree to kiss you “Even though I don’t really care about people; all that matters is that we know.” 

👰 You bring your bouquet on your parents’ grave, aware that while they have passed when you were still a young girl, they would have approved of you and your wife together. Bunty has gifted hers to mrs McCarthy, who is being courted by a man of the village, in hopes it brings her luck.  

👰 You spend your wedding night as you should - making love, and putting to use the gifts you have both bought: new lingerie and a certain toy ordered in a very discreet shop in London. In the end, as you rest in each other’s arms, naked and blissfully happy, Bunty rests her cheek on your shoulder. “Do you think one day we will be able to really do it?” she asks in a whisper “That in the future, in fifty or a hundred years, women will be actually allowed to get married?” 

👰 You reflect on the matter for a while as you play with your wife’s hair, her legs intertwined with yours. “Perhaps; I mean, new things happen every day.” you point out in the end “People in other countries are fighting to allow couples of different races to marry; our situation could improve as well… even though you and I may not be there to see it.” “I know; still, I hope it will happen; I hope that one day, people will see there is not really a difference between loving a person of the same sex as you, or the opposite one; that love is love, and no one has the right to tell you who you can spend your life with… or to treat you differently because of it.”

👰 You know Bunty is thinking about her parents, her relationship with which never recovered after she told them she was dating you; she has always known she had made the right choice, but at the same time she wishes she didn’t have to choose, because she does love and miss them. Bunty has told you more than once you have nothing to blame yourself or to feel guilty for, even though her life would have been much easier, and her relationship with her family much closer, had she never fallen in love with you, and you mostly don’t; but you’ll never stop feeling a burning sense of injustice for the young, brave woman who paid such a high price for the privilege of sharing her life with you.

👰 “Well, I can only speak for myself, but I can promise you, I will never treat you differently from now.” you whisper in the end, turning to your side to hold your wife in your arms; she has never been more beautiful than now, when the moonlight filtering through the windows shines on her fair complexion and raven hair; she has never been more beautiful than now that she is yours, just like you are hers “I will always love and cherish you like I do today; I swear on my life. I love you so much, Bunty…”

👰 She smiles, because how could she not, when her wife is with her? “I love you too, (name).” she whispers before kissing you once more “And I swear I will love you forever.”

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Bellona’s masterlist

Separate masterlist for the Tolkien Legendarium (All media)

Separate masterlist for Beast in Black (OPLA Mihawk x reader)

Fanfictions

Solomon Kane

Solomon Kane

Bride of Christ, Bride of Man

The witch's companion

*****

Willow (All media)

Graydon Hastur

The bride of the flautist-prince

*****

Father Brown

Bunty Windermere

Sweet serenade (part one) (part two) 🌞

*****

One Piece (Live Action)

Sanji

Chocolate-flavoured lips (part one) (part two) 🌞

Gentleman caller

Red-Haired Shanks

Flowing like a river (part one) (part two) 🌞

Let me breathe for you (part one) (part two)🌞

The hills turn crimson as I take your hand in mine (part one) (part two) 🌞

What do Gods know of love

Roronoa Zoro

The art model

Life drawing

The gift of the pink dragon

Usopp

Bird-shaped letterbox

Sweet dreams (part one) (part two) 🌞

*****

What We Do in the Shadows/Lost Boys

Laszlo Cravensworth

Abendrot

*****

Headcanons lists

Centurion

Titus Flavius Virilus

Being a Pict spy and falling in love with Virilus would involve...

*****

Ocean's 8

Rose Weil

Being the group's bodyguard and being in love with Rose would involve...

*****

Father Brown

Bunty Windermere

Getting married to Bunty would involve...

*****

Yellowstone

Jamie Dutton

Being Jamie Dutton's daughter would involve...

*****

One Piece (Live Action)

Red-Haired Shanks

Red-Haired Shanks headcanons

Being a native of Foosha Village and falling for Shanks would involve...

Cabaji the acrobat

Being part of Buggy's crew and developing a relationship with Cabaji would involve...

Roronoa Zoro

Marriage of convenience and public sex with Roronoa Zoro

Your boyfriend Zoro being transformed into a girl would involve…

Being Zoro's dance teacher would involve...

Sanji

Sanji being kidnapped by your father and the two of you falling in love would involve...

Being part of a rival crew and becoming Sanji's lover would involve...

Usopp

You and your boyfriend Usopp taking care of a child would involve...

*****

What we do in the Shadows

Nandor the Relentless

Being a vampire and discovering Nandor is your ancestor would involve... (part one) (part two) (part three) 🌞

*****

🌞 denotes complete multiparters.

Videos masterlist - movies - part 1

Videos masterlist - movies - part 2

Videos masterlist - TV series - part 1

Videos masterlist - TV series - part 2

Headcanons masterlist

[rose-edith]

Ooh being an awkward, tongue-tied bookish girl and Bunty falling head over heels for you? x

Hope you like it!

Being a tongue-tied book lover and Bunty falling in love with you would include:

• she really couldn’t help falling in love with you, from the first time she was introduced to you she was absolutely smitten.

• they say opposites attract and that’s the case here- while she’s loud and confident and doesn’t read much, you’re quiet, a bit tongue-tied and read a lot. And she loves that about you!

• when you struggle to talk and trip over your words or struggle to find the right ones she smiles at you gently and listens patiently while encouraging you to go on. She always listens to you.

• she can see just how special books are to you, she can see it in the way that you carry them so diligently, how you use bookmarks, how you make notes and so on.

•so when you offer to share with her your favourite book she’s more than flattered, she’s touched!

• and even though she’s not a big reader she takes the time to read the book, and she can see why it’s your favourite. It’s a special thing between the both of you, you spend a long time together talking about it.

• slowly you come out of your shell a little bit when you’re around Bunty- she notices how even though you’re still quiet, you smile and laugh and manage to talk much more easily in her presence. Which makes her fall a little bit more in love with you.

• which is why she’s quick to notice that around other people you become quiet again and she guessed you feel a little bit awkward, and in those moments she’ll be beside you and helps to gloss over the awkwardness.

• the two of you have semi casual, informal little dates or ‘outings’ as she likes to call them to the library or the bookshop. She may not be as big a book lover as you are, but she loves seeing you happy and having a good time!

• she brings you to the library at Montague Hall and she watches as your eyes come alive! As she watches you bound around the room she realises that this fuzzy warmth in her chest is love and that she loves you, that you bring her peace.

• she’s quick to confess her feelings to you, and she’s delighted when you tell her the feelings are mutual. When you then share with her your favourite, most romantic poem she’s blown away, it’s just perfect.

[rose-edith]

Hi! Would you please write some headcanons about living in Kembelford and being a famous sportsperson/athlete (I was thinking about a female pugilist, but it's fine if you prefer another sport or want to keep it vague)? And maybe being with Bunty? Thanks a lot! 😚

I’ve decided to keep it a bit vague, hope that’s ok. Hope you like it!

Being a famous sportsperson and being with Bunty would include:

• Kembleford was your favourite place to be in the whole world, because while everyone knew who you were due to your success in your sport, the people were considerate enough to leave you alone for the most part.

• of course the Kemblefordian’s were keen for you to be involved in the community- they invited you to the school sports days, to the bring and buy sale, to the numerous fetes and fares too. And you were absolutely on board with that! And if they wanted you to cut a ribbon or hand out a prize then you’d gladly agree.

• but by far your most favourite person in Kembleford to spend time with (apart from Bunty that is) is Father Brown. He will confess to you that he’s had the occasional flutter at betting, and he’s always wagered on you and you’ve never let him down! It’s quite flattering really! But more than that, as much as he’s invested in your sports life he always encourages your other ambitions and hobbies.

• and it was thanks to Father Brown that you met Bunty. She knew who you were by reputation, but it was the kind Father who introduced you both.

• you were smitten from the minute you shook hands, and she was star-struck, but that swiftly melted into her falling hopelessly in love with you.

• in fact, at one charity event in Kembleford they pitched the most sporting members of the community against you (for fun of course) and the only person who came close to keeping up with you was Bunty.

• whenever you’re competing she’s always in the crowd, in fact she always gives you a kiss for luck too.

• she supports your every decision when it comes to your career, when you win she celebrates with you, when you lose she commiserates with you, and if you decide it’s time to retire she’s right beside you offering her support and helping you to find what you’ll go on to do next.

•the people of Kembleford are quite used to seeing you and Bunty walking round together talking and laughing and setting up plans for a swanky dinner or a night of dancing, but they always leave you to your private life.

•if a paparazzi starts to come sniffing round no one in Kembleford will say a word to them, and if Bunty gets wind of them being in town trying to steal scraps of information about your life she will lay into them until they apologise and leave. She’s as keen as you are to keep your personal life away from your career and the newspapers of the world.

•all in all while the local community and Bunty are proud of your prowess in your sport and your career it has little impact on your day to day living, they’re all just protective of your privacy and frankly, it’s very comforting.

[rose-edith]

Hello, hope you are doing well xx If you feel up to it could you do - female reader and Bunty, with how Bunty uses the different love languages to show her love?

Hi! Hope you’re well! Hope you like it!

How Bunty uses different love languages to show her love for you would include:

•well first of all the most obvious way she shows her love for you is by flirting- she’s very confident in her ability to flirt, and so she pretty much always flirts.

•but she knows that flirting isn’t necessarily the best way to put across real compliments. So when you’re feeling down or maybe a little blue she’ll drop the flirtatious act and be sincere, and she’ll tell you then exactly what she loves about you, and how much you mean to her- but these words are private and only for the two if you to hear.

•Bunty unconsciously shows her love for you when she buys you the odd little trinket or gift here and there. She doesn’t really think of it most of the time, she might just see something you’ll like so she’ll get it for you.

•apart from when it comes to flowers that is, she finds a book in Montague Hall library that has the meanings if flowers inside, and Bunty then deliberately goes to a florist and buys a bouquet that had a hidden meaning- telling you in no uncertain terms that she loves you, that you bring her peace and hope and happiness.

•Bunty will never let you walk somewhere late at night- even if she wasn’t with you when you were out (which is fine because you’re in love, not totally dependent on one another!) she’ll give you a lift home, she likes to know you’re safe.

•speaking of, her love for you shines through when she calls you at night, she likes to make sure you’re ok and safe and warm. Or sometimes she likes just to hear your voice before she goes to sleep.

•her favourite way to show her love for you is to spend time together though, you don’t have to go out if you don’t want, you don’t even have to talk, she just likes to be beside you whenever she’s able to be.

•when the two of you are driving anywhere together she’ll hold your hand unless she needs to change gear or something, she just likes to hold you.

•hugs! It’s something the two of you can get away with in public too- so she’ll either always have an arm slung over your shoulder, or have you pulled into a tight hug at her side. She hopes that you take comfort from her, because she takes comfort from having you in her arms.

•she likes to go with you doing the most mundane chores- food shopping for example, she’ll help you pick out tasty biscuits, and when you are loaded down with baskets and bags of shopping she’ll help you carry them home and put them away- she doesn’t want you to hurt yourself! She just likes being with you.

•ultimately the best way Bunty shows her love for you is the way she kisses you- it’s her favourite way. She pours every ounce of love and passion for you into her kisses- from the very short pecks on your lips and cheeks, to the full on kisses, she loves showing her love in that way. But actually her MOST favourite way to show her love for you is to press a kiss to the pulse point on your wrist, it’s so intimate and special. You never ever doubt her love when she presses a kiss to your wrist.

[rose-edith]

Covering for Bunty as she sneaks back in would include:

• the simple fact of the matter is that Bunty shouldn’t have sneaked out in the first place! She was on strict orders from Lady Felicia to stay home and not go to see the new, glitzy nightclub that had opened recently. But Bunty being Bunty wasn’t having that, so naturally she went and no one was any the wiser, except for you that is- she had begged for you to go along too but you weren’t feeling like it.

• only she didn’t come back the night she went out, she had stayed at a friends house overnight and then had to sneak back in to Montague the following morning.

• but luck was not on her side. Father Brown and Mrs M had joined you and Lady Felicia for breakfast, a plan that Bunty knew nothing of when she left the night before. But you covered for her absence at breakfast saying she was most likely sulking from not being allowed out, which was an excuse everyone believed.

• the trouble was that in order to creep back into her bedroom to change Bunty had to pass the dining room, and as it was such a glorious day that all the windows and doors throughout the house had been opened up to make the most of the gentle breeze. This meant that there was no way past the dining room to the stairs without being spotted.

• you’d caught sight of Bunty pleading silently with you to help her and you gave a subtle nod, you tried desperately to keep the attention away from the door and focused on the pretty flowers that had been put on the centre of the table. And it was going well until Bunty stubbed her toe on the table in the hallway and let out a muffled yell.

• just as their attention was switching to the hallway you sprung out of your seat and started to sing Lady of Spain as loudly as you could. Mrs M and Lady Felicia were visibly startled and confused, but their eyes stayed fixed firmly on you, giving Bunty a chance to dash off. However Father Brown caught sight of Bunty rushing away along the hallway and couldn’t help but smile and played along as he tapped the table to the tune you were currently belting out at the top of your lungs.

• to say you were embarrassed was an understatement, your face felt so hot you were sure that bread would’ve become toasted if it had rested against your cheeks for too long! But as you had made a fool of yourself you lived up to it and gave a theatrical flourishing bow as you finished, leaving the others at the table with little else to do but applaud your spontaneous musical outburst.

• and then Bunty came in, looking a little tired and disheveled but none the worse for wear. (You were amazed at how quickly she had changed, but you supposed she had had enough practice to master the art of a quick change.) She also gave you a big cheer for your singing, and as she settled in the seat beside you she whispered a promise to cover for you one day should you need her to, your mind slipped to a certain Inspector...you had no doubt you’d be taking her up on that offer one day soon.

[rose-edith]

Hello again, hope your well. Absolutely loved the last request, you always do a smashing job. About to see a running theme with me (and my love for Bunty) — the gang (Father B, Mrs M, Lady F, Sid) finding out you and Bunty are together (maybe finding them in a compromising position). Your part of the gang too/grew up in Kembleford. Love your work, always makes my day 💖

Aww, thank you so much! Hope you like it!

The Kembleford gang find out you and Bunty are together would include:

•you and Bunty have been together for a while now, and you’ve done a spectacular job of keeping it quiet! Although you think Father Brown may have twigged onto it, but he hasn’t said anything about it to anyone.

•as things are going so well between you and Bunty it’s only natural that things start to become serious! It’s Bunty’s idea that the two of you lock yourselves up in your house with lots of food, the curtains drawn and the phone unplugged.

•in fact, you’re both so enamoured of this idea of quality, uninterrupted time together that you miss the glaringly obvious issue with it- you’re a well-known figure in Kembleford, always dashing about or helping the Father or Mrs M, so naturally your sudden absence would cause suspicion.

•it takes all of half a day before Father Brown, Mrs M, Sid and Lady Felicia are all concerned- they’re used to Bunty being flighty so they think nothing of her absence, but yours? It’s so unusual!

•they call your home to find the number doesn’t even ring- and nor would it with the phone unplugged, but they don’t know that.

•so they decide that they should pay you a visit, to check on you in case you’re unwell. On the way to your house they check in at the shops to ask when you had last been seen, but no one had seen you since the day before.

•with a renewed worry they hurry to your house, and rather than knocking Father Brown puts his lock picking skills to the test while the others keep watch, lest there be a passing policeman!

•as quiet as a church mouse they all sneak inside, and they can hear that the radio is on in the living room. But when they go to enter the room they find they can’t, as the settee is blocking the door- in fact all the furniture that usually resides in the middle of the room is now pushed to the edge! And there in the middle of the floor laid on many blankets and cushions are you and Bunty, kissing and holding one another close. You don’t even realise that you two aren’t alone!

•when Father Brown coughs however the two of you jump apart like naughty children caught stealing from the cookie jar- indeed, Bunty’s kisses had been as sweet! And you couldn’t help but blush as you realise what you two had been caught doing.

•as soon as Mrs McCarthy works out what she’s seeing a startled exclamation of “Penelope!” breaks forth from her lips, which given the gravity of the situation just makes you laugh, which then sets Bunty off too, and the two of you just straighten yourselves out while laughing.

•Sid had a bet with Lady Felicia that you and Bunty were together, so Lady F begrudgingly pays up.

•but then the laughter stops and the reality hits- you and Bunty have been caught out. But judging by the looks of pleasant surprise, mischief and smiles on your friends faces they don’t mind, they all seem to be very happy to see you and Bunty as an item.

[rose-edith]

Hello, hope this finds you well and thrilled to have you back (I love all your content). If it’s not too much hassle could you do dating Bunty and being Sid’s childhood best friend/surrogate sister? Again love your work.

Thank you! It’s never too much hassle! Hope you like it!

Dating Bunty and being Sid’s best friend would include:

•Sid ships you and Bunty so much, even when you’re together. He trusts you, he trusts her- so ultimately he trusts each of you to love and honour and protect each other.

•that said however, he doesn’t want to continually see the two of you being all adorable- he claims seeing the two of you kissing or just being couple-y makes him feel sick. But he doesn’t really mind it.

•perhaps the greatest thing about being Sid’s friend and Bunty’s partner is that all of you can hang out together! You’re all good friends!

•but it can become a bit competitive- neither Bunty nor Sid ever turn down a challenge and sometimes it’s down to you to be the voice of reason!

•and hey, at least you’ll never break down on the road! Both Bunty and Sid are accomplished mechanics, as Sid taught Bunty all he knows. They swear they’ll teach you one day, just as soon as they’ve decided who is the better mechanic of the two!

•Sid does give you and Bunty plenty of time alone for dates, in fact sometimes he’ll even chauffeur the two of you on dates so you can both drink and let your hair down and have a nice time.

•and so in return you and Bunty always make a point of putting time aside where one or both of you hang out with Sid so he doesn’t feel abandoned.

•if you and Bunty have an argument at any point Sid will NOT take sides, instead he’ll lock the two of you up in a room or a car or a cupboard until you’ve resolved your issues!

•and when you and Bunty get engaged/or take your relationship to the next level Sid is the first person you both tell. And he’s never been so happy for you both.

[rose-edith]

Hiya, hope you’re doing well xx If you feel up to it could you do - How Bunty would deal with/comfort/console her girlfriend if they got jealous? Thank you!!

Hope you like it!

Bunty comforting you when you’re jealous would include:

•she can read you like a book. She can tell at a glance if you’re feeling jealous, it shows in your shoulders, or your concentrated frown.

•if she’s not near you she’ll immediately make her way over to you, so she can gently and discreetly take your hand to ground you in the moment, through the sense of touch. She’ll rub her thumb and fingers over your knuckles until she’s sure she has your attention.

•subtly she’ll try to find a way for you both to extricate yourselves from whatever social setting you’re in. She knows that she needs to speak to you somewhere private, somewhere alone.

•as soon as you’re both out of sight and earshot of everyone else she pulls you straight in her arms for a tight hug, and she absolutely won’t let go until you’ve relaxed in her arms. She’ll cradle your body against hers, and if you nuzzle into her neck to catch a whiff of her scent then she doesn’t say anything, if it brings you comfort then that’s all she needs to know.

•after that she’ll take your face in her hands and look into your eyes as she asks what’s wrong and what can she do to help?

•she won’t let you shy away or refuse to answer, she needs you to communicate clearly with her. If you can’t answer her yet then she’ll pull you into another hug and whisper sweet nothings until you’re ready.

•she’ll listen to you closely when you finally talk, and it makes her heart contract painfully. When you’re done she peppers kisses all over your face, slowly making her way to your lips, and when she finally gets to them she’s so tender and careful that you just melt. You feel her smile against your lips as you wrap your fingers in her silky hair, so that you can hold her impossibly close.

•by the time she steps back from you you’re breathless and every trace of jealousy has dispersed completely, you’re happy and relieved and very much sure of your love for Bunty and of hers for you.

•oh and there’s a lot of lipstick that needs to be cleared up and reapplied, in fact both of you are smudged in it! It’s enough to make you both burst into laughter.

[rose-edith]

Your Song with Bunty:

•this song was playing in the nightclub where the two of you met- your eyes met across the room and suddenly it was like all the air had been knocked out of your lungs!

•Bunty actually really likes the song and can sing it word for word...though it’s not as good as the original version, she always whips out the joke about her music teacher paying her to bunk school during music classes! But you love to hear her humming the tune or attempting to sing it.

•naturally she has a record of it, and it’s playing quietly in the background at Montague one evening and the two of you are just dancing around wildly together, laughing and joking. And then in the next moment her lips are on yours, and it’s everything. She’s all you can feel, touch, taste, smell and hear. And you want more! As first kisses go that one was electrifying!

•when there’s a fancy soirée at Montague and the band play C’est Si Bon yours and her eyes meet and without saying a word the two of you have a whole conversation, that no one else even spots. Both of you want nothing more than to dance together, but your relationship is a secret! So you have to make do with the wonderful memories that the song evokes.

•when you’re out and about together as “friends” (aka on secret dates) or even when you’re alone together you’ll always reassure each other by saying ‘C’est si bon’. Because it translates as ‘it’s so good’. It’s like a private little love talk the two of you have.

•Bunty does finally manage to get to dance with you in public to the song that’s the soundtrack to your love- she finds a secluded nightclub, one where anyone can dance with and be in love with anyone. And right there under the dim lights and surrounded by lots of other couples the two of you have your public, romantic dance. No one else even bats an eyelid, it was perfect.

•even as other songs get released and you both like them, they never hold a candle to this one. It’s a very significant part of yours and Bunty’s gradually blooming relationship.