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dsnzfb · 27 days ago

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AN: 3100 words. Oh dawg this is tooth rottingly sweet fluff. The classic hurt n comfort. Biddley literally the embodiment of struck down with the flu and Maud leveraging it a little during a get together with her friends (and him having to listen to them yap about cold remedies, mortified.) circa 1900-1904, theyre like early 20s. True love is using your spouse to get out of social events when you get too tired to be there but don't want to kick people out.

From this prompt.

Maud's Book Club

-----

“Are you not going to your club meeting today?”

“I rather not. You have a cough.”

“I’m not even the one going-“

“I know…”

Biddley clammed up feeling Maud’s hands around his burning cheekbones, tilting his head up so she could kiss him on the top of his head. He sniffed, then settled back into bed, “I don’t understand…”

“I’m staying here. Lest something awful happen to you. I don’t feel good about you being on your own for the evening, I’m sorry.”

“What will happen to me?”

“Mmm... say if you fell down the stairs?”

“Wh—“

“Or you sleep through dinner again?”

Biddley coughed, a betrayal of his defence.

“I likely won’t…”

“Better be safe than sorry.”

Maud was saying this as if his leg was broken and he had just hit his head. He hadn't. He’d just come down with a touch of flu, that was all…guilty on the sleeping through dinner thing, he woke up feeling so weak and nauseous last night that he’d stumbled into the bathroom to throw up. That’s where she found him and all but dragged him into bed with food to mend his vertigo. He was feeling better now — not much better, but better — and had a little plate of crackers on the nightstand to keep him going.

“They’ll be missing you…on short notice,” He mumbled. Maud was flipping through a small booklet where she kept her calendar.

“I…hold on…”

“Don’t miss out on my behalf…” He continued. The meeting — book club to the public but really a ladies' society in private — would start in two hours. And Maud kept minutes, she was very good at it. If she wanted to make it, she should’ve started getting ready fifteen minutes ago.

His head was spinning again. He shut himself up as she paced by the window.

“Perhaps I could make a call…” She hummed, “Have them come here instead…would you mind? We’d only take up the den.”

“I wouldn’t mind…”

“Really?” As if she hadn’t expected it, “One moment then. I’m using our neighbour's phone.”

Biddley groggily nodded and sank back into his propped pillows. They hugged his shoulders and cradled his feverish head, the cool linen on his burning ears. As much as his head urged Maud to leave, knowing very well he would survive the evening alone, his soul screamed and ached at the idea of being left here, miserable and ill. It was a nasty habit, he knew, but he never thought straight with a fever.

His sniffling punctuated the silence of the house after Maud exited. He could hear her knocking on the neighbour’s door before he dug a handkerchief out from the blankets to blow his nose.

A telephone...he mused. He ought to get one set up within the next quarter, perhaps, if he could convince his superior officer for a raise…

“HhRSCHHhhww!! HHUH! HhdtscHHHhhuue!!…Jesus…”

It might be a while before he gets back to work. A week, if he was lucky.

His throat stung as he tried to clear it again, only for it to build up into a cough. A ragged, heavy one; perhaps Maud was right. He was in no condition to be left by himself.

Reaching for a cup of water resulted in it spilling all over the floor, and he was on his hands and knees trying to dry it with a spare towel when she returned.

“Anne is coming over,” Maud said with a hint of a hurry, “And three others, I don’t think you’ve met them. Ah, and- and Constance, I believe you met, she might join us.”

“I’ll just be up here…” He croaked, pawing aimlessly at the mattress for the handkerchief before giving up and bunching up his collar. One arm wobbled from under him as he held himself up on the floor, “—hhd!hhdscHHHhhuhh! Khh…HHRzzschhhhhw!”

“Bless you. What are you even doing?”

“Spilled the water.”

“Oh..!”

He stood, wavering for a moment before placing the towel into the hamper. His head was hurting and he had to sit again as Maud hurried around the room, putting in her earrings and rifling through the closet. Sometimes it was just nice to hear her footsteps in the house, he’d never know how much he’d miss them in a few short years.

“Do you need anything? I’m going to get started on making refreshments and dinner.”

“No…thank you.”

She slid out a dress from the dresser and hung it on their screen before disappearing from the room again. Biddley shuffled under the covers and sighed heavily. His eyes stung, the underside of his eyelids hot and his dark circles sore.

When he closed his eyes, it was to sleep, not much could be done about it.

————

He was roused with a pounding headache and a burning throat sometime later. He mentioned both of these when Maud had woken him to give him a small helping of potatoes and stewed pork for dinner.

“Do…you thigk they’ll mind? If I’b here?” His voice strained to her ears.

“I really doubt it. Anne’s husband is around half the time, but he never comes in to comment. It’s all quite usual…and it isn’t as if you are a stranger.”

“I suppose…”

“You can always come down if you feel up to it.”

He ate quietly as Maud tucked a hot water bottle into the sheets. She could understand what he meant, at least. Things were fairly open between them, and though it had been a bit tense at the start, Maud had convinced the rest of the suffragettes in her party that she trusted her husband enough with their agenda. It would be nice to have some support, anyway, and it wasn’t new — Biddley tended to sign off on whatever she thought was best, the ‘face’, on paper, she used to joke.

If he didn’t want to impose, he was fairly good at lurking in the shadows, too. He often did in their home even when she was here, like some spectre.

“I’m going downstairs. I’ll be up if you need something, just call. Are you going to sleep more?”

“I think I’ll read…”

She turned the lamp on for him as she left so he could do just that, a thick novel that kept him occupied despite the half-muffled coughing and the occasional sneeze.

————

This was still book club, they called it. Usually, it would be held at a tea house or someone’s parlour; Maud had only hosted once or twice, near Christmas, and though she’d been acquainted for years, still felt somewhat self-conscious of her hosting skills. Their small group, made of well-dressed ladies and some of their maids, hung around the fireplace while tea and pastries were shared. Dinner too, though in considerably small portions, since she hadn’t planned to cook for so many. Oh well. The pastries made up for it.

“I don’t understand what they’re doing with the library,” Constance was in the midst of saying, “I mean, a donation of that size would be beneficial mostly for textbooks. To renovate the space, a waste!”

“Yes, but I doubt that’s what the average person wants to read.”

“I’m sure most go to study.”

“I was going to say the same.”

Maud was playing chess with Anne, chin propped up while her tea sat on the side table. It was nice…the privacy of a home allowed for such camaraderie usually afforded only in halls or gentlemen’s clubs.

“You’re quiet, Maud,” Anne said after a moment, “You know we don’t mind changing locations last minute. Rather you be comfortable than cancel.”

“Hm?”

She looked up. Her eyes had been heavy for a while, and her throat was dry. There was a faint sniff before she shook her head.

“Just a smidge tired, that’s all. I’m…fighting the urge to check up on Mortimer, he’s probably asleep by now.”

Delilah, who’d been going back and forth with Constance, looked between them all in question before Maud clarified.

“He’s upstairs, fighting off just the most horrid cold. Or, flu, possibly. I’m unsure.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“I’m certain he’s fine—“ she cleared her throat, “And if he isn’t, well, he’ll come asking.”

“You know what works well, in a pinch?”

“Hm?”

“You can make your own cough syrup. It requires honey and onions and ginger…”

The chatter would continue, drifting up from the den before a faint creak had Maud raising her head. It came from the top of the stairs, meaning…he’d likely been there for a time, trying to eke on by in silence. As Biddley shuffled down the stairs, the conversation got slightly quieter as a few people turned their heads.

“HH—hhUH!hh’ktpscHHh!”

Almost silent, but audible enough to halt the conversation altogether for but a second. His ears must’ve been plugged because he didn’t look their way.

Instead, Biddley sniffed, burying his nose into his handkerchief with his brows furrowed in misery. He blew once as he got to the bottom of the steps, nearly colliding with one of the maids. After giving her a surprised, quizzical look, he sheepishly apologized and dipped around her to go to the kitchen. Maud excused herself, brushing her dress.

Her shoes clicked against the floorboards and tile as she entered, seeing him sitting at the kitchen table in his robe, wiping at his nose with as much reserve as possible.

“Making tea?” She asked, breathily, “The kettle should still be hot, we just boiled some water.”

“Sorry— I didn’t want to interruhH!-pt..”

“You weren’t interrupting!”

“—iiHHSChhhhhehhww!!”

“Bless you!”

“Oh, Lord…”

She felt his head as they waited for the water to boil, despite Biddley clearly trying to shrink away. He looked pale, awfully clammy. And the cough could be heard in every strained word he spoke. By the looks of it, he’d only just woken up and the slight shuddering indicated a chill. They did prop the window open upstairs, just to circulate the air, but it’s probably also dropping the temperature a fair bit up there.

“Would you like to sleep downstairs? Might be easier to get tea…and I’d be here, too, if you need anything.”

“I-I cuH-couldn’t. Erh…everyone’s here. I look awful and underdressed.”

“I doubt anyone will mind.”

“HhH!!NGgxscchh! Hhuh…it’s not polite…”

“Just sleep on the divan. It’s close to the fireplace, it’ll make you feel better...we aren't keeping you up, are we?”

He gave her an apologetic look, the corners of his eyes pinched in a way that answered a definite but reluctant yes. That turned into a crease on his cheek as he turned away, nose buried into a handkerchief.

“Hdt’GnkKSCHhhhuh!!”

“Oh my.”

He winced and released the pinch he had on his nose. An uneven blink indicated imbalance, perhaps stuffy ears. Maud sighed and gave him a sympathetic hug before rubbing his shoulder.

“The option is there, should you wish. Enjoy your tea.”

Maud returned to the quiet murmurings of her friends.

“You should get something to drink, Maud,” Constance suggested, “And I mean something warm. You look slightly peaky yourself.”

“Do I?”

“Just a touch. Best we don’t stay too long then, hm?”

“I do feel, mm, off—“ She gestured at her throat, “But I assumed it was just the humidity.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as another muffled sneeze came from the kitchen, no doubt startling one of the maids who had just entered. The conversation steered back towards the library, and some changes they planned to suggest when they’d eventually hold their demonstration there. It was engrossing enough that Maud forgot about the quiet suffering from the kitchen until Biddley walked out to return upstairs. She caught his eye and gestured him over, only for him to stand frozen for a moment. He looked stunned. Another gesture caused him to quickly shake his head and begin a hurried escape upstairs before she opened her mouth.

“You’re welcome to rest down here, you know…!”

“Ah, um, no I— good evening, everyone…Anne, Constance.”

The others had turned to exchange their greetings. Someone offered a pastry, which he denied, looking more and more like a man with stage fright.

“You can come sit,” Delilah offered.

“I’d really rather not,” He answered, pulling up his handkerchief, “I-Idt’s—hhSSCHHHhuuuhw!! N-not a good tibe, I’mb under the weather and would hate to intrude…excuse me-“

“It’s hardly intrusion! This is your house,” Maud folded her legs, “And I would not be so poor of a host of my party as to shoo you away.”

It would’ve reflected poorly on their part for him to turn it down so begrudgingly, he shuffled over and slumped onto the seat. She could see him turning red from the neck up.

“Just…listen. And, I don’t know, should there be something you think would be appropriate to suggest to your chief officer, perhaps you could do that.”

“I…I could.”

She had a pressing nature to her voice, one that usually didn't come up. A touch of insistence for his help with something. Even though his brain was blowing a fuse, he seemed to pick up on it and obliged.

Surely, he’s done it plenty of times before. Tidbits he often ran up the ladder, about mistakes in legislation, public query, that sort of thing, on her behalf. It helped that he was curious and that he was part of the police, it was much more direct.

Maud sat back, gesturing him to rest against her shoulder as the rest of them outlined point after point. There was a moment or two that ended in him ducking away to muffle a sneeze into a handkerchief followed up by a sniffle. And with every additional blessing, he seemed more sleepy than before. There was a deeper red colour staining his cheeks, she noticed, likely from the heat of the fireplace and the attention equally. After a particularly painful one, a sneeze that sounded like all the worst parts of a cold, he’d muttered an apology, the first proper sentence he’d said to everyone. It was into the handkerchief, which muffled the aftermath.

“You’re already better for being on your feet with an ailment like that,” One of her friends has said, offhandedly, “I fear my husband is on death’s door whenever he comes down with so much as a cold.”

Another chimed in, “I heard it’s actually worse for them.”

“I doubt that.”

Maud had her hand on his arm, and he had slumped far enough to almost be laid on her lap. She rubbed at his shoulder before hearing him sniffle again.

“What about menthol? Have you tried menthol?”

“Like a salve?”

“Yes exactly…Maud, have you got any?”

She jolted to attention.

“N-no, I fear I haven’t,” She spoke, clearing her throat. God, how many times had she done that? Her lungs felt heavy, “Pardon me.”

“I’ll bring you some next time, actually. It’s very effective.”

“There’s another sort, that you apply on the back of the throat.”

“Really? That sounds dreadful.”

“Oh, it is. I hear Sasha coughing every time he uses it but he swears by his life…!”

The conversation dragged on, and eventually, Biddley’s weight sank fully against her, indicating he’d succumbed to sleep. Maud’s fingers slid through the thick brown curls on his forehead before resting her palm there.

“I’m so sorry…” She said with a faint rasp, “I believe it’s getting late. I’m not feeling as awake as I ought to be and...”

Her knuckle went to her temple with a sigh as the others looked over with concern. Constance was first to stand, gesturing over her maid who was quietly embroidering to tidy up.

“Of course, darling, we best head out. Give the two of you some much needed rest.”

“That would be best. I do apologize for the short notice-“ She smiled, brows furrowing, “Thank you for stopping by…!”

Biddley remained asleep as she stood up to see the group outside. When she returned, he was still limp against the divan.

“Mortimer…” She whispered, kneeling down. Her eyes felt sore, she’d been awake too long and the return into a stuffy house from the night air had made her woozy, “Are you coming to bed?”

She shook his arm lightly and after a bit, he was finally able to raise his head.

“Coming upstairs?” She asked. He glanced with watery eyes to their clock before nodding. His palms felt warm as she helped him up, her hands still feeling his burning forehead.

“Sorry to keep you down here for that long…”

“It’s fine…” His voice betrayed his words.

“I needed an excuse for everyone to leave.”

“Why?…” He cut himself off with a series of coughs. It sounded especially bad after waking up like all the nastiness had settled in for too long.

“I’m not feeling too good myself, actually. Would prefer to turn in, that's all…but I didn’t want to force them to go.”

“O-oh…oh, god, I’m sorry-“ He put a hand to his head and slouched his shoulders. His voice was really waning, he must’ve been exhausted, "S-since...since when? I thought I'd been careful."

“I think it was inevitable. I’ll join you in bed soon, alright?”

“Mnhn, al-alright…hHHISCCHHhuhhww!!”

“Bless you.”

———-

“How do you feel?” Maud asked when she had finally sat back on the mattress. Her head was beginning to hurt in the way a migraine would, and she debated on taking something before going down but figured to ride out the unavoidable. It would likely hurt worse tomorrow.

“Like death…”

He was shuddering slightly, and his hair had gotten slightly damp around his forehead. When he turned over, even in the dimness of her lamp, she could see the sulking complexion on his face and the moisture on his lip. He looked pale and slightly afraid. She rifled around for a spare handkerchief before wiping at it to his dismay. He looked utterly beside himself. When she pulled away, he gave a sad little sigh.

“Your moustache is growing in.”

“It’s hardly there…”

“It looks better every day. Cheer up. You look so dejected.”

“Are you going to lie down?”

“You’re not upset with me for using you as an out?”

He shook his head. Maud shuffled into the covers and stared up at the ceiling.

“Must have been embarrassing. Everyone talking about their…cold remedies and such. And you.”

“Don’t tease me,” He turned away as she muffled a laugh. She rolled over to hug him from behind and put her head against his shoulder.

“I’ll make up for it…I promise…” She hummed. He sluggishly draped an arm over her, finger caught in one of her braids, “Goodnight…”

“Goodnight…thanks for staying.”

“Of course.”

#I. I LOVE THEM. SOOOOO MUCH.#biddley uou will. always be famous to me #hea precious and darling and i adore him #very clever of maud to use him to get some much needed peace and quiet...#loving sigh.... ohhhh i adore them....#incredible writing as always bean #hit it out of the park

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