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1907
They were no longer children, not really. Dickon was more man than boy now. At the age of 18, he had long since given up his days of wandering the moors and started taking on more and more work at Misselthwaite Manor as Ben Weatherstaff had to start taking on less and less. Like Martha, he sent his wage home to help his mother and lived very simply, sharing the caretaker’s lodge with Ben.
Archibald Craven could never bear to be parted from his children, so despite societal expectations, Mary and Colin continued to remain at home. They shared a tutor which kept them occupied most of the morning. They still spent their afternoons out in the fresh air, citing the importance to their health and well-being. If their tutor objected, his complaint did not move Lord Craven, who has always been happy to indulge the two of them.
Dickon, despite having real responsibilities on the grounds, knew that he was considered one of those indulgences – Lord Craven made that clear when he was hired.
“Your responsibilities will include aiding Ben Weatherstaff and learning from him so that you can take his place one day.” Lord Craven had said in a serious tone.
Dickon nodded, having expected that when he was invited in.
They could both hear Colin and Mary laughing outside the window while they talked.
“And, of course, I consider it to be your primary responsibility, to ensure my children are happy, healthy, and well. Do you understand?”
Dickon looked on in surprise before nodding slowly.
Needless to say, regardless of how much work there is to do, Dickon always sets aside the time between Lunch and Dinner to be in the garden with the two.
They weren’t children any longer though. They had grown out of many of their old games, and found new ones to replace them.
Lying under one of the large Willow trees, Mary watched the light creeping through the vines and branches, her head resting on Colin’s stomach. Dickon continued to prune and trim since he was never one for idleness.
Colin was absent-mindedly twisting a strand of Mary’s hair between his fingers as he relaxed. “Mary, Question or Command?” He asked, starting a favourite game between the two.
“Hmm” Mary considered before settling on “Question”
Colin is possessive by nature. He hangs onto the things he loves so tightly because he is so afraid to lose them. “When will you finally agree to marry me?”
Mary, who staunchly refuses to be possessed, pulled away from Colin and sat up. Her face had gone patchy and red, the sour face that had been so common when she had first arrived was back as she glared down at her cousin. “I’ll never marry you; I would appreciate if you would stop bothering me about it.”
Colin’s face pinched in anger; his own cheeks mirroring the red of Mary’s. He opened his mouth to argue but before he could, Dickon interrupted. “Mary, Question or Command?”
Both turned quickly to look at him. He rarely entered their game unless they pulled him in, so it was, admittedly, a surprise that he had spoken out.
“Question” Mary answered defiantly, crossing her arms over her chest.
He didn’t look at them, just continued focussing on his work. “How long do you intend to stay at Misselthwaite?”
Her expression softening, she let her arms fall to her sides. ‘Forever” she said simply, before turning to look at Colin. “As long as you’re willing to have me”
Colin’s anger had also melted away. That had been his real question after all. “Dickon, question or command?”
Sighing, Dickon turned his eyes onto the young Master. “Command”
“Stop working and come play with us!” Colin shouted, pulling Dickon to his feet and dragging him along the path further into the garden while Mary laughed and began pushing him from behind.
Looking mournfully at all the work he still had to do, Dickon resigned himself with a sigh and let them have their way. It was his primary responsibility, after all.
1908
Mary and Colin were plotting, Dickon could tell. The two of them had always had this strange ability to have full conversations without saying a word. They would share a glance, or a nod, a shrug, and then have decided exactly what to do next. Even their fights could occasionally be a series of glares and frowns, though rarely because the two of them enjoyed yelling far too much.
This afternoon, they were clearly plotting because they hadn’t said a word during the last two hours, but kept looking at one another, looking at Dickon, and then sharing another look.
Dickon tried to ignore it as he weeded the rose bed, but he could feel his stomach tie itself into knots while he waited.
With a final nod, Colin spoke up. “Dickon, question or command?”
Dickon groaned. He really didn’t see why the other two enjoyed this game so much. “Question” he sighed. It always seemed to be the safer option.
“Do you think Mary is pretty?” He asked curiously.
Mary seemed to preen, while she waited for an answer.
“Of course, I think Mary is pretty.” Dickon said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Dickon, question or command?” It was Mary this time. This really wasn’t how the game was to be played; it should be Dickon’s turn now. That has never mattered.
“Question” He answered, it still seemed safer.
“Do you think Colin is pretty?” She asked, mischief all over her face.
Dickon tried not to react, despite the churning feeling in his stomach. This was just a game and Mary is looking for a reaction. “Of course, I think Colin is pretty.” He was, only a fool would say otherwise.
“Dickon, question or command” Colin again. He seemed to be circling Dickon, making him feel like a rabbit on the moor.
Not liking where this was going, Dickon changed direction. “Command”
Sharing a look with Mary, the two of them nodded. Colin was right in front of Dickon now. “Kiss me” He ordered, tilting his head upward.
Dickon could say no. He knew that they would both respect it.
Colin was waiting though, and Mary was the one circling now. Dickon had never kissed anyone before, and there was no one that he cared about more than these two.
Leaning forward, he brushed his chapped lips against Colin’s soft ones. It was light a chaste, but it still made Dickon burn.
Colin pulled away and licked his lips as though savouring the taste. “Now kiss Mary.”
Before he could react, Mary had swooped in. Her kiss was not light, not chaste. Unlike Colin, she had seen grown-ups kiss and knew what it was that she wanted from Dickon.
“Dickon, question or command?” She whispered against his lips, her arms wound around his neck.
Taking a deep breath, he answered. “Question”
She smiled sweetly at him “How long do you intend to stay at Misselthwaite?”
Dickon let out a breath. “Forever.” Looking over her shoulder, she locked eyes with Colin. “As long as you’ll have me.”
Colin stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the two of them. Unlike Mary, Dickon didn’t mind being possessed.
1810
Colin wanted to become a doctor. It wasn’t really a surprise to Dickon as the other boy had been reading more and more on anatomy and science over the last year or two.
It also hadn’t been a surprise to Colin’s father, who answered the news with a sad nod before reaching out to his contacts to get Colin a place in the finest program available.
Mary, on the other hand, was livid. She tore through the house, pulling down curtains, and throwing books. She had grown enough as a person to know to avoid things that would shatter, knowing that Dickon’s sister Martha would have to clean it up, but her rage was beyond all measure.
She screamed, and slammed doors. No one could go near her for fear of sparking another outburst, least of all Colin for whom she reserved the worst of her bile.
He tried one last time before he had to board the carriage to leave.
“Mary please.” He begged from near the door, his baggy travel coat making him look like the child Dickon remembered from the first time in the garden.
She refused to turn from the window where she was looking out at the carriage waiting. “Get out” she snarled.
Colin took a step forward. “You’ll regret it if you don’t say goodbye.”
“No, I won’t” She crossed her arms, her posture somehow making her seem even less approachable than she had been just a moment before.
Trying again, Colin reached up to touch her back. “Mary, you know that I lov-” in an instant she had turned and slapped him across the face as hard as she could. His pale skin immediately flashing to red as he reeled back.
“Don’t you dare touch me.” She spat before storming out of the room.
Colin’s face pinched in anger. “Fine! Just run away, you selfish spoiled bitch!” He screamed after her.
She slammed the door so hard that the walls rattled throughout the room.
“Colin, question or command?” Dickon asked, trying to break through the fury that was thrumming through Colin’s whole being.
Taking a breath, and then another, Colin finally turned to Dickon. “Question”
“Are you honestly surprised that she would react like this?”
Colin scoffed. “Command”
Choosing to let the breach of rules slide, Dickon strolled over to him. “Come say goodbye to me before you go, because I am going to miss you something fierce”
Letting go of his anger, Colin pulled Dickon into a ferocious embrace. “I will come back; you know I will.” He whispered into Dickon’s neck.
“I know” Dickon sniffed, refusing to burden Colin with his tears, “You are going to be a great Doctor, Colin Craven. You’re going to change the world.”
Colin smiled at that, though it was clear he was also struggling to keep him sadness at bay. “I don’t know about that.” He chuckled moistly.
“I do, I’ve never doubted it for a second”
Cupping Dickon’s face in his hands, Colin rested their foreheads together. “You’ll take care of our Garden?”
Dickon smiled. “I always do”
With that, Colin pulled away. At the door he paused for one last wave before striding down the hallways towards the door.
Dickon watched through the window as Colin reached the carriage. Archibald was driving with him so that he could see the boy settled. They checked the bags, chatted for a moment, and then disappeared into the carriage.
Refusing to look away, Dickon watched until the carriage had disappeared into the mist of the moors.
Now it was time to find Mary. It was never good to leave her alone with her anger too long.
She was fairly predictable though. Once Dickon had confirmed that she wasn’t in her room, or her Aunt Lilias’, he made his way to the garden.
There she was, sitting on the swing where they had so often played as children. She looked like a picture of abject misery. The tears that she had refused the shed in the weeks leading up to Colin’s departure had muddied her face and left her looking sodden.
Approaching slowly, as he used to with baby fauns and other wild things, Dickon made his way behind her and started pushing her gently on the swing. This was familiar, they had done it so many times that Dickon didn’t have a prayer at truly remembering how often. “That wasn’t very kind” He finally broke the silence when it was clear that Mary wasn’t going to.
“Don’t scold” she said lamely, as though all the fight had burnt out of her.
“This isn’t forever, he’ll be back before we know it.” Dickon tried for his usual optimistic tone, though it sounded hollow in his own ears.
Mary just sniffed in response.
“Nothing bad is going to happen just because we aren’t there to watch him”
Mary shook her head. “You can’t promise that”
She was right, he couldn’t. During her childhood, she had seen her entire world end and there was no guarantee it couldn’t happen again.
The tense silence had fallen between them again, even the birds in the garden seemed afraid to interrupt.
Finally, as though not being able to stand it any longer, Mary put her feet down and stopped the swing mid-movement. “Dickon, question or command?”
“Question” Dickon answered without much thought.
Mary turned to face him. “Aren’t you even a little mad that Colin left us?”
Shifting his eyes away from her, Dickon tried Colin’s trick. “Command”
Wrinkling her nose at the rule violation, Mary thought for a moment. “Promise you’ll never leave me?”
“I promise.”
1912 –
Archibald Craven was dying. What had started off as a simple cough, something that both he and Mary had shrugged off as immaterial was now wracking through his body leaving him shaking, pale, slowly wasting away.
Mrs. Medlock refused to leave his bedside. At any moment you could find her wiping his brow or just holding his hand as he thrashed in the bed that seemed to grow more expansive by the day around his rapidly shrinking frame.
Bracketed on the other side of the bed was Mary. She sat looking like a lost child. A large book in her lap that she would read aloud during her uncle’s more lucid moments but would let drop the moment he was no longer listening. Mostly she just starred at him as he was slowly slipping away from her. The orphan girl becoming an orphan again with each ragged breath.
Martha was running constantly, bringing broth, clean towels, linens, anything to make the experience even slightly better. Dickon, well, Dickon took care of the gardens. That was his job after all. He had no idea how to fix this situation, how to make things better for Mary or for his little family at Misselthwaite. So, he did what he did best. He weeded, and pruned, and waited for the Spring to come.
There was a flurry of movement coming across the moor. The crashing sound of a horse coming full speed down the road. Dickon knew it was Colin without even seeing the face.
It was only recently that Archibald had allowed them to write to Colin. At first, he didn’t want to worry the boy over nothing. Then, when it was clear to all of them that it wasn’t nothing, writing to Colin would be admitting how bad things had gotten.
Leaving his tools behind, Dickon slowly made his way to the hitching post by the front door. He knew that Colin would abandon the beast in his rush to get to his father’s side, and the least Dickon could do would be to get him settled in the stables with some fresh hay and a good brushing after his hard ride here.
Dickon didn’t think he had been stalling, but when he left the barn, night had already fallen and the only glow from the house was coming from Lord Craven’s room.
Plucking up his courage, Dickon made his way through the winding hallways, up and up, until he had reached the Lord’s room.
Mrs. Medlock had surrendered her seat to her young Master and was now hovering near the window. Unsure what to do if she stayed, but nonetheless unwilling to leave.
Mary and Colin were mirror images of abject misery as they looked at each other over the prone form of their shared parent. Colin gripping his father’s hand tightly, while Mary’s fingers crept forward before finally taking the other one. The book she had been holding was dropped unceremoniously on the floor and then forgotten.
The sounds of breathing that filled the room were becoming more labored now. Somewhere between a breath and a cough that couldn’t quite take form. Dickon was familiar with these kinds of noises from his childhood when he tried to save every creature that came his way, and some were just too far gone to save. It wouldn’t be long now.
“Father” Colin whispered. “I love you so much.”
Miraculously, Archibald opened his eyes and looked upon his son. “You look so much like your mother.” He whispered. His gaze was desperate, as though trying to take in and keep every detail of his son. “Colin, I am so proud of the man you’ve become.”
Colin tried to smile for his father, but even he wasn’t that strong.
“I love you more than anything in this world.” Turning his attention to Mary on his other side. Archibald squeezed her hand. “Oh, my girl, I love you both. You have made my life wonderful and I do not regret a single moment of our time together.”
Mary brought his hand to her lips and kissed his fingers. “I love you Uncle” She sobbed, holding his hand to her cheek.
With one last shuddering breath, Archibald Craven left this world to join his Lilias in her garden.
The silence that filled the room was deafening.
Dickon had his arm draped over Mary’s hip as they lay on her feather bed. It had been a hard few hours. Colin had so many messages to send, arrangements to be made. Tasks gave him focus, a sense of purpose.
Mary, on the other hand, had neither. She took her dinner in her room and then went to bed as soon as she was done pushing the food around her plate.
Dickon kept on eye on her window and made his way up to her room as soon as her lamp had gone out. Appearances had to be maintained after all.
Mary drew back her quilts and welcomed him into her embrace as soon as he walked through the door. It was nice to feel something besides the numbness that seemed to encompass everything.
As Dickon rested his head on Mary’s shoulder and traced patterns on her hip, he heard a familiar step circling the door – approaching and then retreating, only to approach again. If Mary heard it, she didn’t give any indication.
“Question or command?” He whispered against her skin, grazing it with a kiss.
Clearing his throat, he spoke a little louder so his voice would carry through the door. “Will you ever forgive Colin for leaving?” The steps froze.
Raising an eyebrow at him, Mary gave him a skeptical look but ultimately opted to play along. “Of course, I could never stay mad at Colin. I forgave him long time ago.” With a glance at the door, she raised her voice a little louder and directed it pointedly towards the hallway. “If he wanted to join us, he would be welcome.”
The door creaked open, and Colin gave them a sad, sheepish smile. “I’m sorry”
Mary huffed and lifted the quilt. “Get in here, you’re letting the heat escape.”
They shuffled around, poking and shoving until they were all comfortable again. Mary and Dickon drove Colin into the middle so they could sandwich him on either side.
Stretching up a little, Mary whispered into Colin’s ear. “I missed you. You’re my only family now.”
Colin turned and laid a light kiss on the top of Mary’s head.
Dickon squeezed them both tightly as if to disagree.
1914 –
They had different responsibilities now. Colin was Lord of the Manor. He had paperwork to do, tenants to visit, servants to pay. There always seemed to be something that needed doing, and it didn’t seem to matter how hard Colin worked, his pile just kept getting higher.
Mary, despite refusing to even discuss the possibility of marriage, had become the de facto lady of the house. She now had to manage the household, make the visits to the village, and keep everything functioning.
Dickon found himself alone more and more during the day. He kept to the grounds, made sure their garden would blossom beautifully come spring, even if he was the only one who was able to enjoy it.
Colin refuses to sleep in his father’s room. It’s kept almost as a mausoleum to the man, not a single thing moved or changed. For propriety, both he and everyone on staff pretends that he still sleeps in his childhood bedroom. No one comments on the untouched sheets in the morning.
The groundskeeper cottage belongs to Dickon now. Ben Weatherstaff joined his old master in short order. He was content with a life well lived, and died with a smile on his face.
As he always had, Dickon takes his meals in the lower kitchens with the other servants. He was never bothered by the strange looks he had received during his childhood, and he refused to even acknowledge them now. He smiled, and talked to each of the other staff in turn. Martha really helped maintain the illusion that everything was completely normal. She would talk about their family, and make sure to draw Dickon in as they told family stories.
Dickon made his way home every evening after dinner. Propriety demanded the illusion that he spent the night there so until the other staff went to bed, Dickon puttered about the little cabin. He made use of the time to wash off all the dirt from the day, as he couldn’t bare the thought of leaving dirt on Mary’s clean sheets or causing his sister more work.
It was a good life they had, the three of them. He just had to keep reminding himself of that when the cottage got too quiet, when the day lasted too long and the night was far too short. They were happy, when they could be.
Dickon tried to keep an eye on the house as he lounged in the tattered chair Ben had rescued when the house had been redecorated before Colin was born. He was watching the lamps go out one by one as he always did…today though, he found his eyes growing heavier. As much as he tried to fight it, his eyes kept drifting shut. Then warm dark oblivion descended.
It could have been seconds or it could have been hours later when he was suddenly aware of his surroundings again. The house was in complete darkness, the courtyard only lit by the faint full moon fighting its way through the clouds, and there was a disruption at his door.
“What if he’s asleep?” he heard whispered. Definitely Colin, Mary wouldn’t be so thoughtful, or so quiet.
“It was your idea to come!” she answered, her voice quieter than usual, but more spoken than whispered. “And anyway, what if something happened to him? There’s no one out here to check.”
“Well, go ahead, open the door.” Colin ordered.
“Me? Why me?” Mary answered back shrilly.
“Question or command?” It was said with amusement.
Mary huffed “Don’t you dare.”
Dickon took the decision away from the two of them, knowing that they could end up squabbling on his step for another hour. Taking two steps to the door, he swung it open suddenly and only enjoyed it a little when the two of them jumped in surprise.
Even though he’d known they were there, his mind was still in too much of a fog to figure out why. “Why are you two here?” he asked, probably a little more bluntly than would be typical.
The two of them had identical wide-eyed expressions as they stared at him, and then their eyes drifted sideways to look at each other. They were both in robes, and had clearly been thoroughly prepared for bed before slipping out to see him.
“Um…I…well…” Colin spoke first, but clearly had no idea what to actually say.
Mary seemed to be thinking, never one to be caught out as speechless even if she was.
Dickon gestured awkwardly inside. “Would you like to come in?”
The two nodded very quickly, and Mary stepped forward the moment Dickon gestured for them to enter.
Once the door was closed, Dickon looked around his home with a self-consciousness that he’d never felt before. It was only when they were inside, that he realized he didn’t have enough chairs for the three of them, and the furniture he had was mismatched and tattered. His bed lay unmade in the corner, he had pieces of clothing and tools scattered about, and everything just looked so dirty.
Dickon felt a mortified heat making its way up his neck and towards his cheeks, as he tried to think of reasons to cut this visit short. They shouldn’t be here; he should have just gone to the house. They had beautiful furniture, clean beds, and more space than Dickon had ever seen.
Before he could say anything though, Mary made herself at home in the chair Dickon had just vacated. If she was disgusted by the state of it, she was careful to hide it.
Colin, for his part, turned the chair around from where it had faced the table and sat down primly.
The only place left to sit was the bed, so Dickon awkwardly lowered himself onto the end of it. “I’m sorry, I must have fallen asleep.” Dickon started, feeling more awake now and realizing why they must have come to his door. It is nice to know they were concerned even if it was unnecessary.
“We’ve all been working so hard lately…you especially…” Mary started, before turning to look at Colin uncertainly.
Nodding, Colin gave Dickon a hopeful smile. “We thought it was about time we had some fun… So, Dickon, question or command?”
“…Question?” He answered uncertainly.
Colin’s posture straightened as he raised himself up so as to appear regal or majestic. “How long has it been since you’ve gone for a swim?”
Dickon couldn’t even remember the last time, if he were being honest. “Probably far too long”
Mary giggled. “Well then, I think it’s time we changed that.” She stood reaching for his hand and began to lead him out the doorway with Colin pushing him from behind.
The night was warm enough to support the idea, but Dickon still couldn’t get passed how ridiculous it was. They couldn’t just go swimming, anyone could see.
Mary dropped his hand as soon as they reached the shore of the river. Without an ounce of self-consciousness, Mary untied her robe and let it fall to the ground with her shift following shortly thereafter.
She took a moment to stretch her arms skyward, twisting this way and that as she made her way to the water.
Dickon was entranced, watching the moonlight shine on her pale skin, she almost seemed to glow against the night sky.
With one last cheeky look in their direction, Mary dove into the water.
Dickon felt arms slip around his frame as a familiar chin landed heavily on his shoulder.
“Isn’t she the most beautiful thing that you’ve ever seen? He whispered in Dickon’s ear while his hands slipped under Dickon’s shirt and began to untie his trousers.
Nodding in agreement, Dickon stilled Colin’s hands as he turned to catch the younger man’s lips. “The most beautiful woman, at any rate.” He corrected, cupping Colin’s face before kissing him again. Dickon did enjoy how well a blush showed on their pale skin, the Colin was far more prone to it than Mary.
“Colin!” Mary beckoned in a singsong voice. “Question or command?”
Laughing out of the kiss, Colin turned to his cousin. “Command”
“Get in here! I’m getting lonely.” She floated in the water, allowing just the tips of her breasts to peak up at them.
Dickon pulled Colin’s shirt upward, allowing his fingers to trace the skin as it was exposed. Colin was pink all over now, and Dickon just wanted to lick him everywhere. Mary was waiting though, and there was never a more impatient person than their Mary.
A splash came at them suddenly, and Dickon stepped away to allow Colin to jump into the water where he immediately tackled Mary forcing them both under. They came up for air as Mary pushed Colin away just to splash him again before Swimming away before Colin could catch her.
She always was the best swimmer of the three of them, with Dickon as a close second. Colin just loved the feeling of moving in the water, even if he wasn’t fast. He used to say that it was closest he could get to flying.
Mary swam in circles a few times before allowing Colin to catch her about the waist, then everything stopped as they turned to look at him expectantly. “Well? Aren’t you going to join us?”
“I was just enjoying the show.” Dickon joked as he began to strip off his clothes again, carefully folding each piece as he placed it down.
The look Colin and Mary shared was mischief personified. “It seems our dear Dickon wants a show.” Colin pulled Mary towards him and gave her a kiss that was downright tawdry.
Dickon could see Mary wrap her legs around Colin’s hips as he thrust forward into her centre.
Mary’s moans were exaggerated as were Colin’s movements, but Dickon wasn’t entirely sure how much of this performance was jest and the thought of it was leaving him breathless and aching for them. They always did look beautiful together.
Catching Dickon’s eyes, Mary commanded that he join them with a flick of her head.
Unable to resist, Dickon walked into the water and then let himself fall.
1917 –
Despite his best effort, Dickon couldn’t keep his promise to Mary. After two years, the country was losing men faster than they could replace them and Dickon was called to serve.
The conditions were terrible. Nothing could grow in all the mud and blood that surrounded Dickon all the time. Though he was a professional dirt digger, nothing had prepared him for the sheer quantity of dirt he would have to move as they stitched trenches across the landscape of France.
France. Dickon was a true world traveler now, not that that was anything to which he particularly aspired. Mary would have been so proud under other circumstances.
Dickon tried not to think about Mary, as a general rule. He was sure that she was livid with him. Unlike Colin, who had the courage to face her ire and say goodbye, Dickon had left her a note and fled like a thief in the night. He knew that if he faced her, he would never be able to leave. He did feel bad for Colin though, who had to tell her the news.
Dickon had not been the first member of the Misselthwaite household to be called to service, and he likely wouldn’t be the last. It was the nature of things these days.
Letters came for him frequently from Yorkshire, usually from his mothers and sisters with news and well-wishes. There was a single letter that came from Colin telling him to be careful, and nothing had come from Mary at all.
Dickon tried not to think about it. He just kept his attention on his shovel and on keeping his head down. If he didn’t draw any attention, he might just survive this yet.
After a year of dirt, mud, and blood, his strength was wearing thin. Everyone seemed to be dying and Dickon was starting to wonder if he would ever see his beloved moors again – his animals, his plants, his lovers. They all seemed lost to him now.
One morning, Dickon took a moment to enjoy the warmth of the sun on his face. It was the little things that gave substance to his life these days. That was how the commander found him, leaning on his shovel and taking in the sun. “Sowerby, you’re being called to the command tent” He shouted over the din of battle that always seemed to fill the background.
“Me?” Dickon asked in surprise. In all the time he’d been in this war, he had never been summoned by anyone for anything. He couldn’t help but wonder what he had done now.
The commander nodded and gestured to him to follow.
Dickon looked mournfully at his shovel. He probably shouldn’t bring it, but it was, by far, his favourite. If he didn’t keep it with him, it would be stolen instantly.
“Leave it, you won’t need it where you’re going” That didn’t bode well. Dickon leaned his shovel against the dirt wall and moved to follow.
The trip to the command tent was long and serpentine. With each step, Dickon could feel his anxiety building until they had finally made it to the canvas tent and he felt like he might throw up.
“On his enrollment form, he said he was a gardener, that’s why we put him on digging detail.” A stern voice came from inside.
Dickon couldn’t believe his ears when he heard Colin answer. “Well yes, he did work as a gardener, but he was also the finest horse trainer in the county. No one could manage my beasts the way Sowerby did. One of my conditions for bringing so many horses to outfit your cavalry was that I would be able to select the groom, was it not?”
“Well, yes, but we assumed you would be bringing someone with you”
“Why would I, when he was already here? It’s a simple matter, simply reassign him. You’ve got hundreds of men who can dig, but only Sowerby can do what I require.” Colin’s posh accent was on full display though his words were clipping a bit in frustration.
“I’ve sent someone to find him, he should be here shortly.” The stern voice conceded.
The commander that Dickon had followed pushed the canvas aside and entered the tent clearly expecting Dickon to trail in after him.
Dickon was rooted in place though. He was intrinsically aware of the dirt that caked every inch of him. It hadn’t mattered when everyone was covered head to toe, but Colin was pristine. He was wearing some kind of Officer’s uniform. It was starched and pressed, had clearly never seen a moment in the trenches. His face was washed, his hair was silky. Dickon felt sick at the thought of what Colin must be thinking looking at him now.
“Ah, here he is. Private Sowerby, as requested. He is the correct one, is he not?” The General tried confirmed after a moment of Colin standing there dumbly.
That shook Colin out of his stupor. “Yes, definitely. Sorry, it took a moment to recognize the man. He was never quite this…well, it’s good to see you Sowerby. Looking forward to working with you again.” Colin gave Dickon a friendly punch on the shoulder. That was definitely new.
“Alright Private Sowerby, I’ve sent staff to pack up your belongings and send them to your next posting. You are to go with Major Craven immediately. Dismissed.”
They didn’t really talk until they were several miles away from the front lines and locked away in the hotel that Colin had acquired for the night.
The bath that Colin had ordered prepared was heavenly, and Dickon was so happy to see his own skin again. He didn’t know what to make of Colin being here though. He should be at home.
They were laying in what could possibly be the most comfortable bed in the world, as far as Dickon was concerned. Colin had every limb wrapped around Dickon in some manner. If Dickon hadn’t spent so long feeling cold, he might have thought it stifling. As it was, he just found it comforting.
“What are you doing here?” He finally asked while starring out into the dark room.
Colin kissed Dickon’s bare shoulder and, if anything, seemed to squeeze him even tighter. “Looking for you, of course. Why else would I be here?”
Turning his head so he could catch Colin’s eye. “You’re supposed to be home taking care of Mary, of Misselthwaite. You have no heir, what happens to them if you die and your Uncle takes it all? You know how much he hates Mary.” Dickon couldn’t understand how Colin could possibly be so reckless.
Colin seemed to nod slightly onto Dickon’s shoulder. “I did think of that, or rather, we did. Mary and I got married before I left. I made sure that she would be considered my heir in all the ways that mattered. Can’t do much about the title, but it hasn’t actually been attached to Misselthwaite for years.” Colin hesitated a moment before continuing. “I also made a prevision that should anything happen to me, she could marry again to the person of her choice and any child from that match would be able to inherit uncontested… I didn’t tell Mary that bit though.”
There was an angry churning in Dickon’s belly. How dare Colin be so cavalier with his own safety. “Colin, question or command?”
That startled a laugh out of the other man. “Um…command”
“I command that if things get dangerous, that you will get yourself to safety even if it means leaving me behind. No matter what, you need to put yourself first”
Colin seemed to be thinking about that for a long moment. “Dickon, question or command?”
Not wanting Colin to turn the tables on him, Dickon selected. “Question”
“Do you honestly think that I would? That I could?”
Dickon didn’t say anything.
They spent the rest of the night in silence, though Colin didn’t loosen his hold until they had both fallen asleep.
1918 –
The worst had happened. They had been attacked and while their company retreated, Dickon was shot in the back. Colin stayed with him in a muddy fox-hole all night until they were able to move in the morning.
Dickon couldn’t seem to stand, couldn’t feel anything below his waist at all. He tried to send Colin away so many times. Tried to send him with his men back to camp, anything to get him to safety, but Colin had just ignored him.
“Who’s in charge here? You or me?” Colin had said in an almost joking voice. “Me. So don’t tell me what to do.”
He somehow managed to find enough branches to make a gurney and dragged Dickon back. They performed surgery immediately and Dickon was sent home. Colin stayed and Dickon got sent home.
Mary had turned Misselthwaite into a convalescence home in their absence, so that was where he was sent to recover. It was almost poetic, Dickon coming back in a wheel chair.
If Mary was still angry with him, he made a pathetic enough image that she decided not to show it. She just welcomed him in and set him up in Colin’s old room.
It seems most of his family was working at Misselthwaite now. His mother had even given up her cottage to his brother’s family and had moved in to help Mary and Martha with the injured.
Apparently walking in the garden was a big part of their recuperation, not that Dickon would know. From the moment he was settled into the bed, he refused to leave it. He had Martha close the curtains, and he refused to look out. He hated that he was here and Colin was out in hell, all because he didn’t want to leave Dickon alone.
The first week he was home, Mary tried to take care of him. She brought him food, tried to gently coax him out of bed, encouraged him to open the windows and get some fresh air. He refused at every turn. He could see her getting angrier and angrier with each passing day, but Dickon couldn’t find it in him to care. Colin was probably going to die out there and it was all Dickon’s fault. He would not step in to the perfect little life that Colin had set up for them to have without him.
After a week, Mary stopped coming. She didn’t have the patience for it. She was never one to cajole and comfort. While he was bed-ridden she left him to the much kinder gentler care of Martha and his mother. It was really for the best; Dickon was mad at her too.
Several weeks went by of Martha pushing his body through stretches and his mother spoon feeding him broth before Mary came to see him again.
He had almost been asleep when she walked through the door, looking like a ghost in her long white nightshirt. She had a single candle in her hand that she placed on the mantel before coming to sit by his bed. For a moment Dickon wondered if this was how it felt for Colin the first time Mary had come into his room. His second thought was to wonder if this was her first time, or if she made a habit of coming to watch him sleep and he’d just never noticed before.
“I’m sorry, Mary.” He whispered, startling her in the process. “I know that I’ve been behaving horribly, I just don’t know how to stop. I feel so angry all the time.”
Mary didn’t say anything at first, really considering his words and what she should say in return. “I do understand, you know. I know what it’s like to feel angry at the world.” She finally said. “I know what it’s like to feel powerless.”
Dickon nodded; he remembered when Mary first arrived. He was embarrassed to realize that he was behaving just as bad, if not worse.
“But you’ve been angry long enough.” She said pointedly. “Colin is not dead, and there is a very good chance that he won’t die. We weighed the odds when we decided he would go after you. You had a much better chance of coming home if he went after you than if you were on your own, but Colin is far more protected. There is a very good chance that he’ll be fine.”
Dickon didn’t say anything.
“Your back is also fine. I talked to your doctors, they said that it was swelling from the bullet that caused your numbness. The surgery was successful and your back has healed incredibly well, there is no reason you shouldn’t be able to walk again.” There was a steely edge to Mary’s voice now. “Dickon, question or command?”
“Command.” He wasn’t ready to answer any questions right now.
“I’m going to come back in the morning and we’re going to start your recovery again. You are going to do as your told and you aren’t going to fight me over every little thing. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” He muttered.
Mary actually smiled at that, it’s the first smile she’s given him since before he left. “Good, now scoot over. I’ve come to the conclusion that sleeping alone doesn’t suit me.” Sliding into bed next to him, she carefully rested her head on his chest and draped an arm over him. “I missed you so much.... Never scare me like that again.”
Dickon just closed his eyes and let himself drift away.
1921 –
“Push Mary, you’re nearly there!” Colin said as he put his medical degree to good use at the end of the bed.
Dickon was seated behind Mary, letting her push into him and hold onto him in equal measure, and given how much blood seemed to be on Colin’s hands already, Dickon was really glad it wasn’t the other way around. He felt faint at the mere thought of it.
“You push.” Mary snarled. “This is all your fucking fault! You wanted a child so desperately, how dare you put me into this position!”
Dickon didn’t mention that it was Mary’s idea to begin with, this did not seem like the time, and besides, Colin was handling the abuse like a champ.
“You’re doing great, just breathe with me.” Dickon said in her ear before doing the breathing exercises Colin had taught him just for this moment.
“I hate this so much.” She gritted out between clenched teeth.
Dickon stroked her arms. “I know, but you’re strong. There is no one stronger in the world. If anyone can do this, its you”
Colin piped up again from the end.of the bed. “One more push should do it, just give me one more.”
“Hear that Mary, just one more.” Dickon whispered, his lips grazing her head in passing.
Mary was shaking her head. “I can’t”
Locking eyes with Colin, Dickon started chanting. “Oh Alla Goya Hoch Hopi Hayata, Al Hea Goya, Hoygoy Hayata…”
With a nod, Colin joined in chanting the rhythm like they had all those years ago.
Mary took a deep breath, her hands tightened around Dickon’s, and she pushed.
A cry split the air. They had done it.
The first place they visited with baby Archibald was the Secret Garden, though it wasn’t much of a secret anymore. They showed him all the flowers. Dickon introduced him to all the animals.
They sat on a blanket and made plans for teaching Archie to walk and run along the paths here. He would learn to climb on the threes, and his days would be spent learning how to make magic in here.
As they enjoyed the sunshine, Dickon couldn’t help himself. “Mary, question or command?”
She smiled. “Question”
“Are you happy?”
Laughing, she gave Archie a small squeeze. “I am ridiculously, overwhelmingly happy. Colin, question or command?”
Colin eyed her suspiciously. “…question.” He settled on after a moment of thought.
“Do you think Dickon is pretty?”
“Without a doubt, prettiest lad in Yorkshire.” He stroked a finger across Dickon’s cheek. “Dickon, question or command? “
“Command.” Dickon settled on without much thought. He was just so happy to be there.
“Promise you’ll never leave us?”
“I promise.”