#lisette beaufort

[jomiddlemarch]

Mercy Street peeps, remember all our speculation about Lisette Beaufort and Clayton McBurney? All the fics we wrote exploring said speculation...

i miss the part of fandom where we would watch together in real time then hiatus would be a feral expanse of creativity that would bring such innovative fics to the masses that it was just a wild time. it's just harder to tap into that now. i guess we still can but gosh what a time it was. speaking as an introvert who has a hard time keeping in touch it was great to jump on and just be with everyone's enthusiasm. some of my favourite things were jumping on a crack pairing or just taking one throw away line and world building with other fans with that

[princessasmosprincess]

Lisette Beaufort

I wanted to introduce my OC Lisette. She pops up a couple of times in Charmed, I'm Sure as a side character. The first picture is from 1909 (I did my best) and the second is modern times.

Lisette is a witch and a former high society socialite and heiress. She originally summoned Kallios to help her get out of her engagement to her fiancé whom she didn’t love (he sucked, he only wanted her for her money and how many babies she could give him). She refused to give Kallios her soul in return for their pact, leaving him to figure out some other sort of payment. Along the way she and Kallios fell in love, and she married him and moved to the Devildom where she was able to pursue her dream as a fashion designer. She currently owns and runs Majolish and Devil Style magazine, and has done so for the past 100 years. She's a partier and is good friends with Asmo and Mammon (Mams says she's the only witch he can tolerate, probably because she pays him and not the other way around). She’s not exactly immortal, but her skill in magic combined with her bond with Kallios froze her at the age of 30 and extended her life. She is gifted in divination (mostly through tarot) and she receives prophetic dreams but she can’t control what she sees or when they happen. Kallios's death devastated her and she was only able to get through it because of her dear friends, she cherishes each and every one deeply but she hasn't ever loved anyone else the way she did Kallios.

For her character design I wanted her to be almost "perfect" but just off. She's slim and tall, and always fits the fashionable silhouette. But her hair is light, which wasn't the popular hair color when she was younger, and she has unique amber eyes some might find off putting.

I answered some Get to Know My OC questions too:

1. She likes champagne and overly sweet, fruity cocktails. For non alcoholic drinks, Coca Cola is very nostalgic to her, something that hasn’t changed that much in all the years she’s been alive. She also likes tea.

2. Favorite flavor: Sweet, mostly.

3. Favorite food: She likes food in general so she doesn’t have one set favorite but if you asked her she’d probably say chocolate ice cream.

4. Dinner is her favorite because it’s the best time to dine with her beloved and friends, and after dinner comes dessert.

5. Once again, she’s not too picky about food but she doesn’t like meat that’s too bloody or fish that’s overcooked or too fishy.

6. At first she had difficulty tolerating spicy foods but living in the Devildom for over 100 years has raised her tolerance.

7. Favorite animal: Birds, specifically parrots. Kallios gifted her a hell cockatoo that she named Adonis.

8. She wears a nightgown to bed, usually something silky.

9. She sleeps on her back but sometimes she’ll sleep on her side, clutching a pillow (she really misses sleeping next to Kallios).

10. She’s more of a night owl because she loves to party but once she’s woken up in the morning she becomes alert rather quickly.

11. She’s usually an average sleeper, but on nights she gets prophetic dreams, she sleeps heavy.

12. She likes to sew on rainy days, there’s just something so cozy about the sound of the rain mixed with the clicking of the sewing machine.

13. She loves the smell of white florals and vanilla, also fresh herbs

14. What does she smell like: In the past she would have worn Jicky by Guerlain. Now she still keeps it very classic, she wears Chanel No. 5.

15. If she had the time she would take a leisurely bath every day.

16. Her cooking skills are pretty decent. Not gourmet but she can follow a recipe. She loved cooking together with her husband, it was quality time for them.

17. She loves fall, the weather is perfect.

18. Halloween, but she also loves Jill’s day because that was the first time she visited the Devildom.

19. She prefers making gifts for her loved ones. Usually it’s in the form of clothing she designed just for them, with love in every stitch.

20. She’s 5’7/170 cm

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

Draconis Cast List: OCs

Aurélia Agreste / Delphyne / Drakena — Champion of Hestia

Amaya Gutierrez / Mariposa — Champion of Aphrodite

Camille Traverse / Scylla — Champion of Poseidon 

Éliane Courtois / Alekto — Champion of Hades

Angélique Fontaine / Reina — Champion of Hera

Fleur Graham De Vanily / Lupa — Champion of Artemis

Lucie Babineaux / Phoenix — Champion of Apollo

Thomas Wayne / Aquila — Champion of Zeus

Olivier Beaufort / Serpens — Champion of Hermes

Christophe Mercier / Arachne — Champion of Athena

Lisette Delacroix / Dike — Champion of Demeter

Claire Gagnon / Areios — Champion of Ares

Margaux Labelle / Maenade — Champion of Dionysus

Jolie Renault / Kryseai — Champion of Hephaestus

[jomiddlemarch]

When good Americans die, they go to Paris

“It pains me to admit it, Mary, but I’m not sure what’s put the wrinkle on your fair brow,” Jed said, crossing his legs and looking far more elegant than he had any right to be on a Wednesday night at home. The lamplight picked out the embroidery on his waistcoat and the grey at his temples, reflected in his dark eyes but added nothing to the warmth that was so readily apparent. The Fosters at home, he was wont to call such an evening, his tone making it clear the depth of his contentment, his continual surprise at how he’d achieved his heart’s desire.

“There are a surfeit of reasons?” she replied. “How disappointing.”

“You needn’t tell me if you don’t want to,” he said. “Though I can’t promise not to needle you if I suspect you are letting yourself suffer unduly. I know your ways and I give you fair warning, madam.”

“You needn’t needle. It’s nothing to trouble you,” she said, laying a hand on the curve of her belly and smiling. She’d already changed into her dressing sacque and was as close to comfortable as she came these days. Daniel and Elias were snug in their beds, having gone down easily with a story and a lullaby, but the baby she carried was always more active as soon as she settled herself on the sofa.

“I could fetch you a cup of tea if Mrs. Hudson’s gone to bed,” Jed offered. “Or perhaps another slice of her jelly roll. She outdid herself tonight.”

“No, thank you. I’m not hungry—for a change,” Mary said. “It’s as I said, it’s nothing to trouble yourself over.”

“Well, then. Shall you satisfy my curiosity or shall I endeavor to make out what Jules finds so appealing in The Charterhouse of Parma?” Jed asked.

“You’d have to stop using it as a doorstop first,” Mary said, chaffing him to see him smile and because it was the truth. “It’s queer you should mention Jules, because that’s what’s troubling me, in a roundabout fashion.”

“Jules is troubling you? But how?” Jed said, genuinely perplexed, and, she could tell, worried. Jed wrote regularly to his old friend, but Mary had only sent a polite note of gratitude after receiving the beautiful crystal bowl Jules had sent as a wedding gift.

“No, that’s why I said in a roundabout fashion. It’s Henry, Henry Hopkins,” Mary said.

“Mary, nothing you’ve said makes any sense. Henry and Jules, why there couldn’t be two fellows with less in common, chalk and cheese,” Jed said. “Well, chalk and Camembert.”

“They do have something quite important in common. They’re both in Paris,” Mary explained.

“Reverend Henry Hopkins in Paris?” Jed said.

“Montmartre, to be precise,” Mary said. “He’s written he’s taken a room with a view of the Basilica.”

“I can’t believe it,” Jed said.

“There’s more,” Mary said. “On second thought, perhaps I would like that cup of tea. You’ll want a brandy.”

[theenglishnurse]

Her Name Was Libby

READ ON AO3 HERE

Mary had never been a good patient. Even as a young child she would fight tooth and nail to leave her sickbed, much to the frustration of her mother. It seemed even a fever hot as a Massachusetts summer did little to slow down the headstrong and determined young girl. Only one thing had been able to settle her, that is one person. Her father and his beautiful recitation of Ulysses.

She had not remembered the fit of hysteria that had caused her to flee from her quarantine room. The head nurse could hardly fathom finding the energy to lift her head off the pillow propping her up let alone sprint down the old oak stairs of Mansion House, in her undergarments no less. Miss Phinney had been slightly mortified by that fact but had felt far too tired to grieve over such, quickly taking back to her bed with the help of the anatomist that current sketched her.

“Who did you see, miss?”

“My Father…”

The woman in pink, who introduced herself as Lisette, was far calmer than one should be after witnessing nearly half the staff being rammed into by a delirious damsel. Mary was forever grateful for her gentility and discretion as she helped her back into the plainly made bed, her chemise clinging to her body from the never-ending sweats. And yet this stranger seemed so familiar, as if she had known her her entire life, not hesitating a second over her curiosities or her to draw her in such raw form compared to the usually well-dressed nurse the hospital had come to know, expect and respect.

“My father gave me fortitude when I was sick as a child. He died soon after I married.” Mary paused, looking to her lap, suddenly remembering the spectacle she had caused. “I'm sorry if I alarmed you,” she breathed, not sure whether to laugh or cry, instead changing the subject entirely. “Why do you do this, sketch me?”

“It is my work. And my habit.” Lisette chuckled, her hand continuing to shade, not stopping even for a moment. “You care of people. I draw them. You have a husband at war?”

“No!” Mary stated far too quickly, shaking her head for added emphasis. “I'm widowed. It's been... well, quite a while now. . . “

“And your daughter?” Lisette continued to draw, not seeing the confusion and sadness that washed over the pallor face of her subject for another moment, realizing quickly she had crossed the line in the sand.

Mary had been shocked by the question, flabbergasted how this stranger knew about such a secret, on she had buried so deep, even Jed was never to know of her. It would have been one thing to seek a position as a Union nurse as a widow, but to state she had lost a child and a husband within two months of each other would have been grounds for immediate rejection by Dragon Dix.

And then suddenly it flashed back to her, the moment as clear to Mary as her father sitting in the chair, a Cherub like toddler balanced on his knee suckling a chubby hand, the sunlight peeking through the curtains dancing on the chestnut-colored curls that graced her head.

“Who did you see, miss?”

“My Father…and my daughter. “

A few moments of silence passed as Mary forced herself to speak her name out loud for the first time in a few months. Just thinking of her flooded her memories with the entire biography of the young girl’s life. Mary remembered the moment she realized she was expecting, the maid playfully noting how her sheets had gone two months without bloodstains. She remembered telling Gustav, how ecstatic he was that he nearly lifted her in the air, instead simply placing a hand on her stomach. That is where it would stay every night as her stomach grew as did the child’s movements wild whenever he spoke. Mary sobbed the first time she heard her cry, bursting into the world during the coldest of January mornings following two days of labor and three hours of pushing. Gustav however was even more emotional the first time he held his daughter, her wide eye, slated to turn honey brown, already focusing on his voice and solidifying the fact that they would be inseparable. When she was two, Mary had thought the Child had caught a cold, but that wishful thinking was quickly shatter by a rattling cough, her baby struggling to breathe. By the time the doctor had arrived, it was far too late, the unmistakable Diphtheria lesions having suffocated her. The day that she died, there little Maus, so did Gustav’s will to live. Mary had tried everything to lift his spirits, to ease him back to the land of the living as she herself struggling not to drown in the sea of sorrows. Nothing worked and now he remained in Concord, buried with the only thing that may have saved him.

“Her name was Libby.” Mary started slowly, Lisette’s pencil coming to a halt as she listened.

“The honorable Miss Elizabeth Louisa von Olnhausen… “Mary smirked, remembering the day her daughter . . . their daughter had been born, her husband Sitting behind her in bed as they simply stared at this tiny being, they had created.

“Such a big name for a tiny thing, “Mary laughed, Libby immediate grasping the woman’s finger with all her strength.

“Don’t worry, my Liebling,” Gustav smiled, planting a kiss on her temple. “She’ll grow into it.”

[broadwaybaggins]

For the Valentine ask: Roses! Pairing of your choice ! Please & thanks!

(Mildly NSFW, also fericita is going to murder me)

Her lips were the color of roses against the snow, and they curled with amusement when she corrected his French. She smelled of lavender and charcoal from her drawing pencils, and her hair fell through his fingers like silk when he ran his hands through it. She called him Henri, and he called her many things, l’amour and magnifique and belle, whispered in her ear as they lay together on the straw mattress in his tiny rented room in Montmartre. He kissed her throat and tried not to think of how different it had felt when he had kissed Emma, a lifetime ago on the shores of the river.

“Henri,” she gasped into his ear, her nails gently raking down his bare back. He closed his eyes against the pain, but welcomed it all the same.

“Lisette,” he answered, but in his mind it was only Emma, Emma, Emma.

[tortoisesshells]

Send me a character: Lisette Beaufort!

Ooh, unexpected!

First Impression: This is extremely shallow of me, but Dress Envy. The pink bodice with the black ribbon trim and 1860s tassels I don’t hate? But more seriously: I don’t think I had time to be suspicious of her motives or why she was being introduced to the narrative before she simultaneously trashed phrenology & made oblique reference to the difficulty she faced being recognized as an artist and illustrator - I ended up in her corner really quickly.

Impression Now: Another character who got robbed by the brevity of the 2 seasons. She’s difficult and complex in a way that the show’s format didn’t do any favors? She’s had a challenging time as a woman in the professional world, and clearly values her career & craft, but I don’t think she’s very good at thinking about how her actions affect others (though I’d argue she’s a fairly shrewd judge of how others perceive her and thus, tries to get out ahead of them). Empathetic to those she barely knows, but her relationship with Jed was clearly a mess. A woman of many contradictions.

Favorite Moment: “You asked me to absquatulate, I don’t know what that means.”

Idea For a Story: Lisette & Anne Hastings get tipsy/ share the watch over the badly burned unknown man in 2x05 and compare experiences being competent women with a chosen profession who are consistently underestimated and undervalued. 

Unpopular Opinion: I don’t think I have any opinion about Lisette that’s too far from (what appears to me to be) the fandom consensus. I … wanted to see more of her? I wanted the narrative to get into her flaws? At the same time, she was kind of tenuously connected to the narrative arc - she doesn’t have an opinion about the war, or its causes, and that did leave me feeling a little weird.

Favorite Relationship: Not in a romantic way, but I really, really loved her and McBurney’s early interactions. He’s clearly impressed with her and not a little stung by her dismissal of phrenology/ Lisette isn’t necessarily impressed by him, but she’s clearly relieved she doesn’t have to justify herself. 

Favorite Headcanon: Related to the above, I like to imagine that Lisette and McBurney have very odd conversations over coffee through S2, offscreen. I also am fond of the very removed-from-canon & post S2 idea of Lisette Beaufort: Private Eye, using her art to identify the unidentifiable, both victim and perpetrator, but … that might just be me having watched too many cop shows.

[stardust-pond]

Mercy Street | S2E4 Southern Mercy

↳ “You have not lived unless you've quarreled in Morse code.”

[treasureplanetsheep]

https://www.instagram.com/p/BPTGgQDjK1T/

[jomiddlemarch]

Grateful to @sagiow for such a thoughtful gift! Mercy Street fans, take a peek.

Northbound

I took a hiatus from my creative hiatus to write a little Mercy Street fanfic, on the occasion of @jomiddlemarch‘s birthday. A very happy, poetic, romantic one, I hope!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14413401 

The scenery spun by, shapes barely distinguishable in the darkness, and Jedediah Foster watched it pass, as in a daze. The day’s events had yet to make their mark, but he kept them at bay: tonight, he had one more important thing to deal with than the utter falling apart with his family, the complete collapse of whatever still held them together. Mary. He had to get to Mary.

How he had managed to get aboard without a dime, he could not recall. Yet here he was, sitting in a comfortable cabin, speeding north as the evening grew; his body growing limp from the exhaustion of travel and the rhythmic motion of the wagon on the tracks, but his mind racing on, one mantra repeating endlessly: please still be alive. Please still be alive.

He took out the much-cherished drawing from his bag, carefully smoothing the creases and wrinkles, and stared at it. In that moment, the world outside vanished, the train’s roar dimmed, time stood still: all he saw was her calm beauty, floating from the white page, smiling peacefully. Was she still at peace? Did she still smile? Would she smile still at his arrival? Please still be alive.

Keep reading

[claudia1829things]

Favorite Episodes of "MERCY STREET" (2016-2017)

Below is a list of my favorite episodes of the PBS Civil War medical series called "MERCY STREET". Created by Lisa Wolfinger and David Zabel, the series starred Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Hannah James and Josh Radnor:

FAVORITE EPISODES OF “MERCY STREET” (2016-2017)

1. (1.04) "The Belle Alliance" - Emma and Alice Green, along with Confederate spy Frank Stringfellow plot a daring plan to help prisoner-of-war Tom Fairfax escape during a Union ball held at the Greens' house . . . with tragic results. Meanwhile, Union nurse Mary Phinney and Dr. Jedediah Foster (still recovering from his drug detox), guide freedman Samuel Diggs through a delicate operation on the pregnant former slave Aurelia Johnson.

2. (2.06) "House of Bondage" - In this series finale, Dr. Jed Foster accompanies Samuel Diggs, who is going to a Philadelphia medical school. On the way, the pair pay a visit to the former's family plantation in Maryland. Meanwhile, the Greens endure a political setback following the Union victory at Antietam and put an end to Pinkerton's investigation of their missing military guest.

3. (2.05) "Unknown Soldier" - French-born anatomical artist/war observer Lisette Beaufort uses her art skills to help the Mansion House Hospital staff identify a disfigured and amnesiac soldier. Nurse Anne Hastings joins Dr. Byron Hale's efforts to undermine the authority of the new hospital chief, Major Clayton McBurney. And the Green family buckle under the emotional stress from Detective-turned-Secret Service Head Allan Pinkerton's investigation into the disappearance of Union officer staying at their home and James Jr.'s gun smuggling operation for the Confederacy.

4. (1.03) "The Uniform" - Maryland-born Dr. Foster confronts his family's divided loyalties when his mother and wounded Confederate brother arrive at the hospital.  Alice is shocked to find fiancé, Tom Fairfax, deeply changed by the war. Samuel and Aurelia try to persuade a slave boy owned by Mrs. Foster to seize a chance at freedom.

5. (2.02) "The House Guest" - A Union officer staying as a guest at the Greens' home attracts the attention of Alice Green, now a Confederate spy and member of the Knights of the Golden Circle. The Mansion House's head nurse, Mary McPhinney, succumbs to typhoid fever. And the no nonsense hospital chief, Major McBurney arrives.

[highnessaisling]

Hshqevent022: plotting weekend 

So I did not make connection pages or else I would not have finished on time for the event. I will make some later. However I listed existing connections (that I could remember so apologies in advance if i forgot someone) and wanted plots.  I linked my characters’ intros too. 

I just brought Chai to life so I have next to nothing for him. I ask that you try to prioritise him if you only want to plot with one of my babies. Here is my d*sco*d if you feel more comfortable talking there : rohirrim#4331.

Aisling, Princess of Ireland

Someone she argues with about climate change and the environment. Like basically she is annoying and screaming YOU ARE KILLING THE OCEANS WITH YOUR LIFE STYLE

Snobbish royals that can’t stand her and the feeling is mutual

People who look down on her for her choices 

Exes or one night stands !!!! pretty please 

Michael has a lot of friends so we can build something from that. Like people who could see her as a little sister or still see her as an annoying 12 years old or an awkward kind of attraction they never acted on because of her brother or they don’t like each others or constant teasing,...

A frenemy. They don’t really hate each others. They could resent each others over something ridiculous. Perhaps they’re just not vibing. Either way, they kind of throw shades at each others and be petty when they see each others but nothing too extreme. 

disastrous on and off again boyfriend: : very messy and constantly breaking up to get back together months or years later. they just can’t make it work 

someone who tries to use Ailsing for political gain or manipulate her

activists club ! 

i feel like she is blessed with great friends already but i’m always open to more 

estranged friends

Taken connections : brother (Michael Uí Briúin Ai ), cousin (Reggie Zulu), sort of extended family (The Whitmores, the Stuarts and Mimi de Bourbon Grimaldi), best friend (Margot Stuart), friends (Gwen Powis, Viveka Bernadotte), failed betrothal (Andrew Beaufort), ex-friend (Nathalia De Marquis)

Louise, Princess of Belgium

This is my bisexual baby so everything can work for romance (although she isn’t out) ! 

A mentor

A protégé(e) (someone she mentors) 

Allies against France

A secret girlfriend 

Art buddies

An unrequited crush on her side or someone elses

Ex boyfriend

People she can be the mum friends to

A fake friend (aka someone trying to manipulate/use her)

Betrayal ? 

Friends/connections from the time she lived in Paris

Friends for the public eye but they actually don’t connect or dislike each others 

A confidant

Someone who has lost a parent or a close loved one and who can support Louise in her grief

An ally she can always depend on (they don’t have to be friends but they do respect each others)

Taken connections : cousins (Lisette Du Poitiers & Arabella Von Habsburg), cousin in law (Renée Dévereaux), childhood friends (Femke Van Oranje-Nassau, Wilhelmina D’Ansembourg), soon to be betrothed (Umari Zulu), friend of her uncle (Roman Yurivic), unlikely friend (Irena Filipovic), 

Chai, Prince of Thailand

One or two friend(s)

Surface friend 

Friend for the public eyes but they don’t connect or dislike each others 

one night stand(s)

Fellow football lovers (soccer lovers for the Americans among us) 

He could have had past meetings with European characters when he was in Paris, Geneva or the Hague. Same with American characters since he spent some time in Washington

Someone he admires / sort of a mentor

Someone who has a crush on him

Fake person who only tries to befriend him for their personal gain 

He’s a proud bitch, so people he despises or think are bellow him (tbh people who are not exactly from nobility or royal blood) 

Just people he can not stand. He can not be openly horrible to other royals because they are guests in Thailand but there are plenty of them he doesn’t like (like people who have futile lifestyle for example) 

political allies ? 

Taken connections : betrothed (Arielle de Valois), military friend (Uriah Zulu)

[cicadaemon-moved]

“Would you like to come in? For old time’s sake? She doesn’t have to know”

Oh I will not miss you one bit Lisette Beaufort. Au revoir salope dégueulasse

[ao3feed-janeausten]

The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3p14d6q

by middlemarch

It had taken a good deal of convincing and now Mary was sure Charlotte would never agree to another proposition again.

Words: 575, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Mercy Street (TV), Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies - Jane Austen & Seth Grahame-Smith, Northanger Abbey - Jane Austen, AUSTEN Jane - Works, Lady Susan - Jane Austen

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M, Gen

Characters: Mary Phinney, Charlotte Jenkins, Jedediah "Jed" Foster, Emma Green (Mercy Street), Henry Hopkins, Lisette Beaufort, Samuel Diggs, Anne Hastings

Relationships: Jedediah "Jed" Foster/Mary Phinney, Emma Green/Henry Hopkins, Emma Green & Mary Phinney, Charlotte Jenkins & Mary Phinney

Additional Tags: Romance, Humor, Crossover, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Book Club, Wine

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3p14d6q

[jomiddlemarch]

When good Americans die, they go to Paris, Part IV

For all that Mary Foster was a dear, sweet woman, as fine an example of Yankee forthrightness and thrift as he’d ever had the pleasure of knowing, Henry didn’t tell her everything. In Alexandria, he spoken to her of an evening, about which boy was coming round and who he’d look in on one more time before retiring; they’d talked about how different the light was at the peak of summer, how they both missed the scent of the first snow and the second. They discussed the business of men’s souls and fond memories of home, and they both avoided talking about what had nearly broken them before the War. After Mary came back, still frail from her illness but all lit up with happiness, he hadn’t said anything directly about his own hopes but he’d known she would understand what his sermons meant, how he chose the verse to let God’s Word illuminate what had been hidden in shadows: love and forgiveness, the faith of the sun and the ever-following moon whose blue veils could simply be beautiful again. He had never spoken to her of Emma and after the ceremony he officiated at, Emma the loveliest bride he’d ever seen. He never spoke of her to Mary again. It was only after they’d all left Virginia when he took up his pen to respond to the first letter Mary had sent that he could bring himself to make even the most glancing reference to the woman he’d somehow, most foolishly, expected he’d get to marry. Mary was a prompt and generous correspondent and he was the opposite, but his friend made no demands. Every note only conveyed how much she wished to console and invigorate him, gentle with him where she would have chivvied her husband. She used the most delicate and amiable methods to invite his every confidence and still, there were barriers insurmountable; he had not found a way to tell her he’d lost more than his heart. He’d lost his soul.

The War had been one of occupation for him, in the industry of it and the way it spread to every corner of a man’s mind and body, from the dust underfoot to the stars scattered across the sky like a handful of seed. When it ended, when they said it ended and sent everyone home, Henry found there was nothing to keep him from flying apart, every thought and wish and dream thrown with a liberal hand into the abyss; when he prayed, the words were like chalk and clay, ashes in his mouth, worthless. He could hardly share this with any congregation, nor confide in any minister. Before the War, he had known he sinned. After, he had not known sin to be real and without it, the days stretched before him like the night, equally lit, with an equal and total paucity of meaning.

It did not help that he was a terrible farmer. That he had not learned any other trade, that he was incapable of being a schoolmaster, unable to teach even the most eager child how to make letters into words, numbers into equations. If there had been ditches to dig, he surely would have failed to dig them. His mother and sisters tried to help as if mending all his shirts and baking too many chicken pot pies could restore him. He was aimless, wishing for something he could not have, and it was a fleeting moment of grace when a letter from Mary recalled Anne Hastings’s remark about Paris. The heartbroken and the heartless. If Anne was wrong, how much worse could it be?

*

“Henri, what have you done? How have you found the worst bread in all Paris?” Lisette Beaufort, possibly the last woman he’d expected at his door, asked with all the curious amusement she’d show every day in Alexandria. She was now focused on the half-burnt, stale loaf on the rickety table that was one of the few pieces of furniture in the room he’d lived in for the past three months, as much like a medieval monk as any New Englander could; he’d read his share of Abelard and hadn’t found any consolation. Lisette looked around the room and it was clear she found it no better than an oubliette. “How terribly have you insulted your concierge that she would let you believe this is a baguette? I shall not taste the wine, it can only be vinegar.”

“Miss Beaufort—”

“Lisette—”

“Mlle. Beaufort,” Henry said firmly, with something of his old Puritan principle emerging from the depths, clearly much to the delight of the Parisienne in her elegant, tasseled pelerine, “how did you find me?���

“I thought that would be obvious, Henri,” she said. “Madame Foster sent me.”

“Mary. Of course. If you will,” Henry said, shaking his head a little and gesturing for Mlle. Beaufort to come in to the chilly, dusty garret he’d made his home as she seemed to want to do. An ocean away, he could sense Mary’s affection and steady conviction that she knew best. He was in no position to argue.

“She is wise enough, I might almost imagine she is a Frenchwoman,” Lisette said. “Except that no Frenchwoman would let Jedediah wear those garish waistcoats.”

Henry laughed then, for the first time in what seemed like years. Lisette smiled, with more kindness than he’d anticipated, and took his overcoat from the peg where it hung. It was sorely in need of brushing and pressing, but she held it out to him anyway and he put it on. And that was the beginning.

[theenglishnurse]

“And your daughter?” Lisette continued to draw, not seeing the confusion and sadness that washed over the pallor face of her subject for another moment, realizing quickly she had crossed the line in the sand.

In her sick bed, suffering from the fevers that come with typhoid, Mary is forced to confront her deepest secrets and the loses she suffered before coming to Mansion house hospital