Chapter Text
John Segundus was in love with John Childermass.
This fact hadn’t become clear to him immediately. In fact it had taken over a decade to arrive at this conclusion. A decade during which Childermass did and said some things that may have played a role in Segundus being late to the realization that he was in love with the man.
For one, he was frightfully difficult to remember. Apparently, Childermass had been in Mr. Norrell’s library at Hurtfew Abbey when Segundus and Mr. Honeyfoot had gone to ask Norrell about practical magic. Unfortunately, Segundus could not recall this encounter with Childermass in the slightest.
The second time they’d met, it had been at York Cathedral, and again, though Segundus had a distinct memory of a mysterious man in a ragged black coat, looking at him quizzically through the falling snow with queer, dark eyes, he hadn’t been able to keep the man’s face in his mind. Memories of Childermass seemed to slip away from him, like shadows chased away by the flare of a candle’s flame.
The third time they’d met, Childermass had warned Segundus that he’d best shut down his school before Norrell found out about it. Yes, he’d looked quite impressive atop his great dark steed, with his wild dark hair and his flashing dark eyes. But at the time, Segundus had been far too upset over the prospect of giving up his dream of a school for magicians to take much notice. Not that Childermass noticed him either. The man’s face was a closed book. He simply told Segundus and Honeyfoot that they must not continue with their plans to open a school, nodded politely and had ridden off. The whole affair had taken less than five minutes’ time, and Segundus had felt so downtrodden afterwards, he hadn’t had the presence of mind to notice how Childermass made him feel inside.
And then the man had shown up at the door of Starecross Hall, his face bloodied and a small box clutched in his hand, and he’d told Segundus to “do the magic!” And Segundus had done it, and he’d broken poor Lady Pole’s enchantment! He, John Segundus had done real magic! Important magic! It was from that very day that he truly began to think of himself as a real practical magician.
After the disappearance of Strange and Norrell into the dark magic that engulfed Hurtfew Abbey, John Childermass did not really have any place to go. His master was gone, and now he was in sole possession of the Raven King’s book. A book that was written on the skin of an atrocious old man in filthy rags, but a book nonetheless. And so John Childermass and Vinculus went here and there to try and untangle the meaning of the words written on Vinculus’ skin, and quite often over the past year, they stopped by Starecross Hall for a visit. Vinculus would eat until his small belly grew fat and round and he’d flirt (leer at) the scullery maids and the cook, while Childermass perused books in the library and talked about practical magic with Segundus.
It was through these visits, usually lasting a few days every few weeks, that Segundus grew to know Childermass better. He stopped being afraid of the man’s dour expression and black clothing, and started to see the man beneath these intimidating outer layers.
And that’s when he knew that he was in very deep trouble.
The first time he’d been made aware of his feelings had been one day in late autumn in the library at Starecross Hall.
One afternoon, when he was supposed to be reading a book on spells to accomplish common household chores, Mr. Segundus realized that he had been staring blankly at the same page for perhaps a quarter of an hour. And what was he doing instead of reading? Why he had been thinking about Mr. Childermass’ eyes. How they were a dark brown that bordered on black, and how they were almond shaped and surrounded by the most pleasing network of wrinkles that only appeared when he smiled, which was quite possibly once a month or less. His eyes flashed when he was displeased and they shone when he was happy. Come to think of it, eye-shining was a far more common occurrence than actual mouth-smiling. Childermass’ smiles were small, rare things.
Segudus had shaken his head and admonished himself for being so lackadaisical, and had tried to commit himself to reading again, only to drift off mere moments later into a series of thoughts about the quality and colour of Childermass’ long, dark hair. How it looked so lank and ragged, but, on the very few occasions Segundus had gotten close enough to smell it, how it had smelled like soap and sage and the wind off the moors. He thought of how it might be soft to the touch, and on what pretense he could find to test this theory.
Another head shake and another redirect later and it was the shape and size of Childermass hands that took up space in his mind and distracted him from reading yet again. How they were broad yet well formed. His fingers thick and strong looking, covered in calluses and stained with ink.
Mr. Segundus was perplexed. Why was he so continually caught up in thoughts of Mr. Childermass’ face and hair and hands? Were the man’s personal features so very unusual as to be worthy of intense consideration? He was not a particularly ugly person, nor was he (very) fearsome to look at. Nor did he seem to possess any extremely distinguishing features. Childermass did not have sparkling green eyes like Mr. Levy. Nor did he have rosy red cheeks like Mrs. Lennox. He did not have a warm, friendly smile like Mr. Honeyfoot, nor flawless pale skin like Lady Pole. He was perhaps, if anything, somewhat unremarkable. And yet Mr. Segundus’ mind returned again and again to Childermass’ appearance.
The next day, when Childermass came down to a small breakfast of bread and preserves and coffee, Segundus found that looking upon Mr. Childermass’ features in person was even more difficult to stop doing than it was to stop imagining them inside the privacy of his mind. He kept casting furtive glances at those hands, and those eyes and that hair, and… and those lips. For some reason, Mr. Segundus found Childermass’ mouth intensely interesting. The way his lips caressed the brim of his coffee cup, or how his teeth sank into a soft slice of bread. It made Segundus’ chest warm and his cheeks even warmer than his chest.
Well this is interesting , he thought to himself. I appear to have fallen in love with Mr. Childermass .
Segundus had never really been in love before. He’d had the occasional crush here and there, but he was frightfully shy, and very uneducated in the ways of romance. And besides, he’d only ever developed these crushes on other men, and well, that simply wasn’t a thing that was done. Add to this the fact that the boys he’d fancied in his youth, and the few men he’d taken a shine to since becoming a grown man himself, could not hold a candle to the intriguing and highly appealing presence of John Childermass, and well… Segundus was fairly certain that he’d never ever felt this way before.
Because it was a rare thing for men to desire other men, he assumed that Childermass himself must desire women. Like Segundus, he’d never married, but that could just mean that he valued his freedom. And since Childermass never spoke of any romantic feelings, nor any feelings at all that did not directly pertain to the study of or execution of magic, it was very difficult for Mr. Segundus to tell if perhaps Childermass might one day possibly return his feelings.
And since he could not discover if Childermass cared for him in the same way, and because he had no idea how to go about letting Mr. Childermass know of his own feelings, he resolved to ignore them and simply go about life the way he had been up until now.
This unfortunately did not work out very well for Mr. Segundus. His thoughts and feelings about and for Childermass did not go away simply because he willed them to. In fact, they only grew stronger and more pervasive. He realized, after a particularly good conversation they’d had together on the details and dangers of fairy magic in the library several weeks prior, that it was not just Childermass’ looks that fueled these soft, shivery, burning feelings inside Segundus.
Childermass was also very smart. And he had a sly sense of humor. More than once he had made Mr. Segundus throw his head back and bark with laughter, only to blush furiously with embarrassment once he had done so, for this was not very gentlemanly behavior.
Childermass was also very kind, in his own way. Yes, he was cynical, and brooding, and he had a secret smirk that made Mr. Segundus think that the man was sharing a private joke with himself about the things he saw around him. But also, he never passed by Julia, the Starecroos calico cat without bending to stroke her behind the ears. And when he spoke to the students, he was patient and encouraging.
All of these observations, about Childermass’ eyes and hair and hands and his intelligence and his humor and his kindness. Well, they all combined to make Segundus fall deeper and deeper in love with him, until he was at a complete loss for what to do about it.
He decided, in a flash of bravery, that he’d at the very least need to find some way of divining whether or not Childermass could possibly ever love him back. And so he did the only thing he could think of doing. He went to talk to Vinculus.
Viculus was the sort of person who was difficult to talk to if you wanted to discuss anything practical, but very useful to talk to if you wanted to discuss the wild, the confusing or the salacious. He seemed to thrive on jokes and misdirections, but also, he was very difficult to shock. According to Childermass, Vinculus had had five wives! And all at the same time as well. This seemed to bode well for his opinion on matters of the heart. What’s more, Vinculus knew Mr. Childermass better than anyone else in the world at this point (aside from Mr. Norrell, who was not around to speak to), and so Segundus screwed up his courage and went in search of him.
He found the raggedy man, halfway to inebriation, clutching a bottle of beer and sitting in a pile of hay in the stables. Segundus was not exactly fond of Vinculus. They were very opposite sorts of men after all, but he was desperate for information on Childermass, and so he decided to take a calculated risk.
“Hello Mr. Vinculus, how are you today?” he asked, in as cheerful and friendly a fashion as he could manage.
Vinculus eyed him suspiciously and clutched his bottle closer to his chest, clearly nervous that Segundus meant to take it away. But he nodded in what passed for a polite greeting.
“I was wondering,” Segundus began. He had planned out carefully what he wished to ask, but it would take some precision and finesse. “I notice that Mr. Childermass has no wife. And that his clothes are often in need of mending, and that his boots are patched, and probably leak in winter. I thought perhaps, now that Mr. Norrell is gone, and he is free to find his own way in the world, if he might like to marry?” It was a rather direct approach, but he really did not relish the thought of spending too much time in Vinculus’ company, and felt it best to get right to the point (in a roundabout way).
“S’pose,” said Vinculus. “Does his own mendin and cookin he does,”
Segundus blinked, piecing together the man’s mumbled words for a moment. “Oh! He does his own mending, and cooking? How very useful!” He silently filed this new fact about Childermass away in the part of his brain that was rapidly collecting interesting facts about Childermass, and tried again. “But, doesn’t he get lonely? I was thinking, Mr. Honeyfoot has an unmarried daughter, and there are plenty of eligible ladies in Starecross and in York for him to court. Is it not time for him to settle down?”
It actually pained Segundus to bring up this subject and to push for Childermass to find a wife and settle down, for it was the very last thing he wanted to happen, but it was the only truly safe way he could think of to ferret out the truth about the man’s romantic leanings.
Vinculus peered at him from under the brim of his battered hat and chewed on his mustaches for a moment before responding. “Don’t think he has a mind for marriage,” he said at last. Segundus’ heart swelled with relief upon hearing Vinculus’ words, but he pressed on.
“Does he not enjoy the company of women?” he asked.
“Oh certainly. He has a few lady friends here and there,” the rumpled man paused for a moment. “But it’s the gents he favors.”
Segundus swallowed thickly and he felt an epic blush make its way across his cheeks. “Oh my,” he said. “The gents? Really?”
“Aye,” replied Vinculus, “Soft little ones. Like yourself.”
Mr. Segundus thought perhaps that he might faint. “Like myself…” he repeated numbly, his heart pounding in his ears.
“Aye. Pretty lads with soft hair. Not my cup o tea, but I sees him lookin at em when we go into town,” Viculus replied. “Do you think I might get another bottle of beer from ye Mr. Segundus sir? The cook’s chased me out of the pantry again, and I’m frightfully thirsty…” he let the request linger in the air between them.
Segundus, who had barely heard him, because his mind was full of images of Childermass and what Vinculus’ words might mean, snapped to awareness a few seconds late. “Oh! Yes, certainly Mr. Vinculus. I shall bring you all the beer you require!” He had a sudden strong urge to reward Vinculus for telling him such amazingly good news, as if it was Vinculus himself that had made Childermass fancy other men, rather than simply relaying the message to him. “I’ll be back shortly,”
He rushed off to the pantry, his heart in his throat and his cheeks aflame to go and fetch the raggedy man three more bottles of beer. He deposited them in front of a very happy Vinculus and went immediately to the library to do some research.
He was frightfully uneducated in the ways of romantic love, and he needed to learn about the art of seduction. There was only one book in Starecross Library that he knew of that tackled the subject, and it was a very proper volume of advice for young ladies on how to make themselves appealing to future husbands. The book was titled, rather mysteriously as Instructions to the Young Gentlewoman On Matters Of Importance , and at first, Segundus had assumed it was to do with cooking and mending, (books for young ladies were always disappointingly free from any magical instruction), but upon opening it, out of curiosity, several months ago, had discovered that it pertained to the arts of courtship.
He took the book and sat in his favorite chair by the fire in the library to see what he could learn. It was late afternoon. The classes were done for the day and dinner had not yet been served, and so he had some time to do research. What he read both surprised and concerned him…
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In order for a proper young lady to draw the romantic attentions of a future husband, she must first make it very clear, in the most subtle and delicate manner possible that she is available to be courted. This is easily done by placing herself near the object of her affections and delivering many soft and attentive looks in his direction. She must appear as if everything he says is the height of interest to her and must let him speak to his heart's content without interrupting to tell him her opinion.
Mr. Segundus frowned. He liked the idea of the soft looks, but the sitting and patiently not speaking would not work at all where Mr. Childermass was concerned. Childermass was an excellent conversationalist, and expected those who spoke with him (be they ladies or gentlemen) to be active participants in the exchange. He’d had no idea courtship advice for young ladies was so stilted and dull. He flipped to the next page.
Always look your best when you are around young gentlemen at social events. Make certain that your hair is well brushed and pinned in a pleasing style. Make certain that your clothes are clean and well ordered and that your face is recently washed and cheeks pinked by pinches.
Segundus looked critically down at his own clean but well worn waistcoat and breeches. He sighed. It was not advisable to spend any of his hard earned money on new clothing, but perhaps he could see if Mrs. Lennox could help him mend the ones he owned so that he would look his very best the next time he happened to spend time alone with Childermass.
If you can, endeavor to struggle with some physical task around a gentleman so that he may offer to assist you. This will bring out his natural tendency to be helpful and protective and will also bring him closer to you physically so that he may smell your perfume and admire the quality of your skin, hair and eyes.
Now this sounded promising. Segundus lost himself in a small fantasy of Childermass rushing to his aid when he saw Segundus struggling to lift a heavy book onto the top shelf of the library. Childermass was a few inches taller than Segundus, and appeared to have stronger arms. At least that is what Segundus’ careful glances revealed when he happened to see Childermass in his shirtsleeves.
Well, it wasn’t much, but Segundus now had a plan. He went to Mrs. Lennox first, and she happily obliged him by having one of her maids fix up his waistcoat, breeches and jacket. In fact, probably due to the fact that she was very fond of Segundus and very focused on him finding himself a wife, she went a bit far with her instructions for the mending, and ordered him something of a new waistcoat. It was made of new green cotton with shiny new tortoise shell buttons. She also gifted him a very nice pair of second hand breeches, saying that they’d belonged to her nephew who had become portly after he’d married and no longer fit into them. They were of a very nice fawn color, with finely hemmed cuffs. The maid mended the holes in his jacket, and relined the collar and added a row of those lovely buttons as well.
After all was said and done, Mr. Segundus ended up with new clothes after all. He blushed and thanked Mrs. Lennox and the maid, Sally, who’d always smiled kindly at him, quite profusely.
Now, all that was left to do was to get himself alone in a room with Childermass. This was not particularly difficult as Childermass often liked to retire to the library in the evenings after dinner, and read. Oftentimes Segundus would join him, and that was where their most interesting conversations took place.
With his heart pounding, his hair freshly brushed and his cheeks freshly pinched (a painful and probably unnecessary practice as he blushed so freely to begin with) Mr. Segundus stepped into the library. Childermass was indeed there, standing by a shelf, his head bent over a volume he held open in his expressive hands. Segundus swallowed down his nervousness. It was now or never!
“Good evening Mr. Childermass,” he said, proud of how steady his voice sounded.
Childermass looked up and a small, rare smile teased the corners of his mouth when he saw Segundus. “Hello Mr. Segundus. Good evening.”
My how his voice rumbled when he spoke. So low and warm. Segundus struggled to concentrate on the task at hand. He had selected the biggest, heaviest book in the library and had placed it carefully on a table nearby so that he could pick it up and struggle to lift it in front of Childermass. He stepped over to the book and picked it up, his wrists already straining with the effort to lift it, and walked over to an empty space on a higher shelf he had made certain existed for the very purpose of trying to place the book into it.
“This is interesting,” he said, feigning curiosity. “I wonder who took out Wallace’s Complete Catalogue of England’s Wildlife and left it on the table. I shall have to put it back where it belongs.”
He then tried his best to lift the incredibly large and heavy volume in order to foist it onto the shelf above his head. He did not quite gauge the weight or the angle correctly, and the book slipped from his trembling fingers and struck him in the chest, knocking him to the floor.
“Mr. Segundus!” he heard Childermass’ voice, full of concern as the other man rushed over and looked down at Segundus, who was sprawled on the floor on his back, the very large book sitting in the middle of his chest. “Are you alright sir?” Childermass asked, bending to lift the book off of Segundus and placing it on the table before offering his hand to help Segundus up.
Segundus gratefully clasped his hand, noting how warm and strong it felt and how small and pale his own hand looked by comparison as he scrambled awkwardly to his feet. In the process of being knocked over, he had gotten his clothing all disarrayed, and he spent a frantic moment smoothing down his almost-new waistcoat and running his fingers through his hair and dusting himself off. Childermass watched him with mirth dancing in his dark eyes.
Mr. Segundus blushed.
“I’m ever so sorry,” he said. “I seem to have overestimated my strength. Thank you sir, for your assistance.”
“Shall I put the book on the shelf for you?” Childermass asked, and Segundus nodded. This interaction was not going off as romantically as he’d planned, but the book needed to be put away in any case.
Childermass, hoisted the book onto the space on the high shelf with a small grunt of effort, then dusted off his hands. “How is your evening going Mr. Segundus?” He asked, and then peered at Segundus with narrowed eyes. “Are you feeling quite well sir? You look more flushed than usual.”
The cheek pinching, of course. Unfortunately, Childermass did not at all seem to notice or remark upon Segundus’ new clothing. Segundus frowned.
“No, no, I am well. It is only the exertion of trying to lift that monstrous book.” Childermass was looking at him warmly, his eyes doing their eye-shine smile, and for a moment, Segundus could not remember how to breath properly. He shook himself out of his love struck stupor before it became too noticeable. “My evening is going well. Dinner was quite good, as I am fond of lamb.” He paused then, unsure of what to say next.
“Have you perchance read that book on magic as it relates to household chores Mr. Segundus?” asked Childermass, and this afforded Mr. Segundus the opportunity to talk about something he both loved and enjoyed discussing. A very pleasant half an hour was then spent talking about household magic and it’s possible applications in upkeeping Starecross’ many rooms.
Segundus remembered at some point that he was supposed to be giving Childermass soft, welcoming looks, and so he made his eyelids drop as if he were sleepy, and looked at Childermass from under his lashes. He tried to make his eyes unfocused and dreamy looking. The results were not what he’d hoped.
“You should go to bed sir,” Childermass remarked. “You seem as if you can barely keep your eyes open.”
Segundus immediately abandoned his efforts to deliver soft looks and opened his eyes wide. “Oh no sir! I assure you I am quite awake!”
Childermass looked critically at Segundus and placed a hand on his shoulder, and Segundus felt his knees threaten to buckle from the touch. “You are certain sir? You are flushed and now your eyes are drooping. I would hate it if you were to catch a chill in order to continue our conversation.”
At this point, Segundus was mortified that his attempts to appear seductive had backfired so atrociously. He nodded, admitting defeat. “I think I am a bit tired after all,” he said. “I shall read in my room for a while before I go to sleep. Thank you Mr. Childermass for your help this evening, and for the lovely conversation.”
Childermass nodded, and Segundus took his leave, feeling his face grow hot with embarrassment. He was clearly no good at seduction.