“Henry, stop this! Please!”
“Lydia get back inside the house!” Henry whirled around, face beet red as he shouted at his wife. “Let go of him and get inside!”
“Henry!” Lydia screamed after husband again but was starkly ignored, thus all she could do was call hoarsely into the beating wind. It whipped her hair around her face, stinging her eyes. How had things come to this? “Henry! Come back! Oh Sidney….” She hiccuped out a sob as she turned to cup her nephew’s face in her hands. He was taller than her, the very picture of a sturdy young man… And yet in this moment he looked small. Lost. A child again. “Sid-”
“Oh Lydia!” Sidney cried as he collapsed against her shoulder though he couldn’t take his eyes off of Henry. His proud uncle. “This is a bad dream!” He wailed, “Ernest!” In the next moment someone would be dead, and either way it would be someone he loved. Even now he tried to draw his coat closer to him, as if it might conceal his secret and undo the damage that had been done that day. The house boy had seen Sidney changing, and immediately had squawked of his appearance to nearly the whole of the butler staff. Now it was known. Sidney Clarke had fallen from grace, and his family would be dishonored.
On the horizon, just a stretch away from Henry, was the tall silhouette of another man. Ernest. Sidney’s Ernest. The gentle, quiet man who he had come to love in just the past year. A hardworking farmer. A man who enjoyed poetry, and fine summer nights. The father to the steadily forming baby in Sidney’s womb. A man who had agreed to fight for his honor, and Sidney’s as well. The two faced each other staunchly, with the wind ripping at their coats.
“Ernest!” Sidney screamed again, hoping that his voice might be caught in the wind so Ernest might hear him. “Run!”
But Ernest didn’t run, he stood his ground. Neither man seemed to have the presence of mind to concede, and Sidney watched helplessly as both brought their muskets and aimed at one another. It would be a matter of who could pull their trigger faster. There was a terrible pause after both parties lined up their crosshairs, and even the wind seemed to quiet down as they did. And then suddenly the moore was filled with a loud cracking sound and the smell of burnt gunshot powder.
“ERNEST!” Sidney shrieked and ripped himself from Lydia, despite his aunt’s best efforts to keep him put. He hardly felt his legs beneath am as he ran, frantic to reach his lover’s fallen shape, sprawled across the ground, and once he did, he flung himself atop him. “Ernest no, please, wake up-” Sidney pleaded desperately as he searched fruitlessly for signs of life. Ernest was limp, and his gun lay flung several feet from him. His white shirt was turning red, with a red pool blooming beneath him in the winter grass. “Ernest, no! No! You’ve killed him, Uncle! Why?!” Sidney wailed, helpless to do anything but weep over Ernest, who was clearly quite dead and would quickly be going cold. “How could you do this?? I loved him...” He moaned forlornly, taking Ernest’s head into his lap, smoothing his dark curls down for what would be the final time as he pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Tears mixed with the beginnings of rainfall. Soon the moores would be covered in dusk.
“He’s ruined your name, Sidney. Our name.” Henry answered bitterly. He stayed rigid, lips pulled into a thin line, refusing to show any sort of emotion that might be mistaken for remorse, or worse, regret. His gaze was steely. “And you will have to go, Sidney. Now.”
-- -- --
“Thank you kindly, young sir.” The coachman smiled as he received Sidney’s coins into his palm. He let them clink together gloriously in his hand and then dropped them into his pocket. “This should only get you a little ways though, I hope you know…”
“As far as it will take me is good.” Sidney mumbled numbly. He could hardly make eye contact with the man. He didn’t want questions. He simply wanted to forget.
“A’right, fair enough, get along then. It’s about to start up raining again.” The coachman tipped his cap at Sidney and nodded for him to get inside the carriage.
Sidney obliged, and as soon as he had pulled himself inside he collapsed against the window. In the distance he could still see the tops of the hills that nestled Hartebrook. His home. A place that he was unsure to ever step foot upon or be near ever again. His heart ached horribly, but he found that he had no emotion in him at present to cry anymore. In an instant, he had lost everything. His love, his family. The only things left were the pack on his hip and the damp clothes on his back. Lydia had tried to reason with Henry, to at least send him somewhere safe. A convent. A foreign estate. Alas, Henry had hardly been able to look at him. The last words Sidney had heard out of his Uncle’s mouth were venomous demands to leave his property and to never look back at it.
Absently, Sidney brought a hand to his belly, slipped beneath his cloak to feel the small mound there. He rubbed it lightly as he stared across the landscape that was quickly becoming enveloped in darkness. The moores seemed to stretch forever, and faraway they blurred into what would have been the beginning of the sea. Inside him the baby moved faintly. Its quickening had only begun in just the last couple of days. An exciting development that had caused both he and Ernest to be joyful, ecstatic even, with their ever growing secret. Now the feeling made Sidney’s breath catch sharply in his chest, where it ached at the thought that his baby’s father would never meet it.
-- -- --
“Shit.” Sidney sighed. It was dark now. Pitch dark, as the early hours before often were. He trudged along the path before, hugging his cloak tight to him to shield his body from the wind. It hadn’t meant to be like this. He hadn’t meant to end up alone on a countryroad, with no light to see and no place to go. And yet, he could do nothing but walk on. In the distance there was a light. A house, or perhaps a stable with its lanterns burning for the farriers inside. This countryside was unfamiliar to Sidney, but he knew one thing, and it was that he couldn’t stand to spend the night outside, nor could he keep walking for much longer. Not with winter rearing its ugly head. The carriage had dropped him off at the end of its line and picked up another in his place. Now, if he could at least find a warm barn, or even just one of the gristmills that marked the river nearby, he would be grateful. He could hear the running water in the dark as he walked. Albeit low, and soon to be frozen in some places.
“Hold on…” Sidney puffed, talking to the fetus in his belly. His only companion now. One that he would fiercely protect. “We’ll make do…”
-- -- --
After walking a good way, the light was much closer, and as it came into better view, Sidney could indeed see that it was a large stable, just beyond a grouping of manicured jumps and hedges. He had come across nothing else between his drop off point on the road and this place, so now he merely hoped that it might still be unlocked once he reached it. He felt slow, and tired. Numb from his grief and the cold. Perhaps he could sneak in if he couldn’t find someone to ask permission for his stay. Surely the horses themselves wouldn’t mind.
“Hello?” He called out cautiously in the dark as he finally made it to the top of the slope. The stable was a grand one. White washed with what would be lush fields behind it come spring. “I say! Is anybody there?”
No answer.
Thus Sidney proceeded in taking the liberty of entering the stable. Its warmth and shelter from the wind brought instant relief. The sweet, huffy breaths of sleeping horses filled the space, a comforting sound to be sure. The lanterns that were lit were low, half burned down. Surely that meant that whatever poor soul that might be out with the horses at this hour would be back to blow them out soon. This caused Sidney to look around quickly for a place to settle down discreetly, and thankfully his gaze was met almost instantly with a ladder and above it, a hayloft. Perfect.
As nimbly as he could manage, which was perhaps not very nimble at all, Sidney made his way up the ladder and practically wilted into the soft hay. Exhausted, and wishing for the world to stop for a moment. He closed his eyes, and after a few minutes of fighting his racing mind, he was asleep.
-- -- --
“Hey! What’s all this then? A little stowaway up here in the rafters?”
“What-?” Sidney instantly sat up, jolted awake. “I- I’m- Sorry, I didn’t mean to-” He blinked, frantically trying to get his bearings as he stared up at the pair of stablehands, cheekily inspecting him. “I’ll be leaving now, I just-”
“Hey now, don’t be so hasty… We don’t care if you want to sleep in the horses’ food.” The red headed one snickered. “David and I thought maybe you were a mouse, with all the rustling you were doing.”
“He’s much bigger than a mouse, Clancy.” David chortled back. He was blonde, with freckles. Stocky and seemed to be good natured. A stark contrast to Sidney’s lithe frame with his pale dinner plate eyes and moppy dark hair. “You look like you’ve been down on your luck? Maybe you should take him up to the house?” He shrugged at David, who nodded.
“Aye, I can do that yes.” He grinned. “C’mon, lemme help you up then, and we can get you sorted.”
“House?” Sidney blinked, confused, but not ungrateful to the pair’s kindness thus far. “I- Oh.” He paused as David pointed through the hexagon window to his right. “I see…” On the hill there was in fact a large and lovely looking manor, with ivy crawling up its side and a large pond that skirted its front, surrounded by a maze of gardens, and a road that wound up to the front lane that had the house settled right on top of it. It was beautiful, even with winter causing the landscape to be mostly bare.
-- -- --
“You’ll be wanting some breakfast I think.” David said cheerily. “I think Charlotte might be able to fix you up a quick one. It’s not often that we get visitors out here. She’ll be charmed.”
“Charlotte?” Sidney’s brow furrowed. He was unsure of what to make of this place he had come to find by accident. “I’m not visiting, I’m not even meant to be here- I-”
It was too late. They had reached the end of the lane already. The manor towered above them, and Sidney had to crane his neck to even try to see the top of it while being that close. It was easily three or four times as big as his uncle's house, and he had found Hartebrook to be grand enough. David flounced up to the door and knocked before sharply returning happily to him again. Then they waited, and as they did, Sidney felt his mouth run dry. At best he was a grubby trespasser. Surely whoever lived in this manor would have no need to talk to him, other than to scold him and send him on his way.
“Lydia get back inside the house!” Henry whirled around, face beet red as he shouted at his wife. “Let go of him and get inside!”
“Henry!” Lydia screamed after husband again but was starkly ignored, thus all she could do was call hoarsely into the beating wind. It whipped her hair around her face, stinging her eyes. How had things come to this? “Henry! Come back! Oh Sidney….” She hiccuped out a sob as she turned to cup her nephew’s face in her hands. He was taller than her, the very picture of a sturdy young man… And yet in this moment he looked small. Lost. A child again. “Sid-”
“Oh Lydia!” Sidney cried as he collapsed against her shoulder though he couldn’t take his eyes off of Henry. His proud uncle. “This is a bad dream!” He wailed, “Ernest!” In the next moment someone would be dead, and either way it would be someone he loved. Even now he tried to draw his coat closer to him, as if it might conceal his secret and undo the damage that had been done that day. The house boy had seen Sidney changing, and immediately had squawked of his appearance to nearly the whole of the butler staff. Now it was known. Sidney Clarke had fallen from grace, and his family would be dishonored.
On the horizon, just a stretch away from Henry, was the tall silhouette of another man. Ernest. Sidney’s Ernest. The gentle, quiet man who he had come to love in just the past year. A hardworking farmer. A man who enjoyed poetry, and fine summer nights. The father to the steadily forming baby in Sidney’s womb. A man who had agreed to fight for his honor, and Sidney’s as well. The two faced each other staunchly, with the wind ripping at their coats.
“Ernest!” Sidney screamed again, hoping that his voice might be caught in the wind so Ernest might hear him. “Run!”
But Ernest didn’t run, he stood his ground. Neither man seemed to have the presence of mind to concede, and Sidney watched helplessly as both brought their muskets and aimed at one another. It would be a matter of who could pull their trigger faster. There was a terrible pause after both parties lined up their crosshairs, and even the wind seemed to quiet down as they did. And then suddenly the moore was filled with a loud cracking sound and the smell of burnt gunshot powder.
“ERNEST!” Sidney shrieked and ripped himself from Lydia, despite his aunt’s best efforts to keep him put. He hardly felt his legs beneath am as he ran, frantic to reach his lover’s fallen shape, sprawled across the ground, and once he did, he flung himself atop him. “Ernest no, please, wake up-” Sidney pleaded desperately as he searched fruitlessly for signs of life. Ernest was limp, and his gun lay flung several feet from him. His white shirt was turning red, with a red pool blooming beneath him in the winter grass. “Ernest, no! No! You’ve killed him, Uncle! Why?!” Sidney wailed, helpless to do anything but weep over Ernest, who was clearly quite dead and would quickly be going cold. “How could you do this?? I loved him...” He moaned forlornly, taking Ernest’s head into his lap, smoothing his dark curls down for what would be the final time as he pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Tears mixed with the beginnings of rainfall. Soon the moores would be covered in dusk.
“He’s ruined your name, Sidney. Our name.” Henry answered bitterly. He stayed rigid, lips pulled into a thin line, refusing to show any sort of emotion that might be mistaken for remorse, or worse, regret. His gaze was steely. “And you will have to go, Sidney. Now.”
-- -- --
“Thank you kindly, young sir.” The coachman smiled as he received Sidney’s coins into his palm. He let them clink together gloriously in his hand and then dropped them into his pocket. “This should only get you a little ways though, I hope you know…”
“As far as it will take me is good.” Sidney mumbled numbly. He could hardly make eye contact with the man. He didn’t want questions. He simply wanted to forget.
“A’right, fair enough, get along then. It’s about to start up raining again.” The coachman tipped his cap at Sidney and nodded for him to get inside the carriage.
Sidney obliged, and as soon as he had pulled himself inside he collapsed against the window. In the distance he could still see the tops of the hills that nestled Hartebrook. His home. A place that he was unsure to ever step foot upon or be near ever again. His heart ached horribly, but he found that he had no emotion in him at present to cry anymore. In an instant, he had lost everything. His love, his family. The only things left were the pack on his hip and the damp clothes on his back. Lydia had tried to reason with Henry, to at least send him somewhere safe. A convent. A foreign estate. Alas, Henry had hardly been able to look at him. The last words Sidney had heard out of his Uncle’s mouth were venomous demands to leave his property and to never look back at it.
Absently, Sidney brought a hand to his belly, slipped beneath his cloak to feel the small mound there. He rubbed it lightly as he stared across the landscape that was quickly becoming enveloped in darkness. The moores seemed to stretch forever, and faraway they blurred into what would have been the beginning of the sea. Inside him the baby moved faintly. Its quickening had only begun in just the last couple of days. An exciting development that had caused both he and Ernest to be joyful, ecstatic even, with their ever growing secret. Now the feeling made Sidney’s breath catch sharply in his chest, where it ached at the thought that his baby’s father would never meet it.
-- -- --
“Shit.” Sidney sighed. It was dark now. Pitch dark, as the early hours before often were. He trudged along the path before, hugging his cloak tight to him to shield his body from the wind. It hadn’t meant to be like this. He hadn’t meant to end up alone on a countryroad, with no light to see and no place to go. And yet, he could do nothing but walk on. In the distance there was a light. A house, or perhaps a stable with its lanterns burning for the farriers inside. This countryside was unfamiliar to Sidney, but he knew one thing, and it was that he couldn’t stand to spend the night outside, nor could he keep walking for much longer. Not with winter rearing its ugly head. The carriage had dropped him off at the end of its line and picked up another in his place. Now, if he could at least find a warm barn, or even just one of the gristmills that marked the river nearby, he would be grateful. He could hear the running water in the dark as he walked. Albeit low, and soon to be frozen in some places.
“Hold on…” Sidney puffed, talking to the fetus in his belly. His only companion now. One that he would fiercely protect. “We’ll make do…”
-- -- --
After walking a good way, the light was much closer, and as it came into better view, Sidney could indeed see that it was a large stable, just beyond a grouping of manicured jumps and hedges. He had come across nothing else between his drop off point on the road and this place, so now he merely hoped that it might still be unlocked once he reached it. He felt slow, and tired. Numb from his grief and the cold. Perhaps he could sneak in if he couldn’t find someone to ask permission for his stay. Surely the horses themselves wouldn’t mind.
“Hello?” He called out cautiously in the dark as he finally made it to the top of the slope. The stable was a grand one. White washed with what would be lush fields behind it come spring. “I say! Is anybody there?”
No answer.
Thus Sidney proceeded in taking the liberty of entering the stable. Its warmth and shelter from the wind brought instant relief. The sweet, huffy breaths of sleeping horses filled the space, a comforting sound to be sure. The lanterns that were lit were low, half burned down. Surely that meant that whatever poor soul that might be out with the horses at this hour would be back to blow them out soon. This caused Sidney to look around quickly for a place to settle down discreetly, and thankfully his gaze was met almost instantly with a ladder and above it, a hayloft. Perfect.
As nimbly as he could manage, which was perhaps not very nimble at all, Sidney made his way up the ladder and practically wilted into the soft hay. Exhausted, and wishing for the world to stop for a moment. He closed his eyes, and after a few minutes of fighting his racing mind, he was asleep.
-- -- --
“Hey! What’s all this then? A little stowaway up here in the rafters?”
“What-?” Sidney instantly sat up, jolted awake. “I- I’m- Sorry, I didn’t mean to-” He blinked, frantically trying to get his bearings as he stared up at the pair of stablehands, cheekily inspecting him. “I’ll be leaving now, I just-”
“Hey now, don’t be so hasty… We don’t care if you want to sleep in the horses’ food.” The red headed one snickered. “David and I thought maybe you were a mouse, with all the rustling you were doing.”
“He’s much bigger than a mouse, Clancy.” David chortled back. He was blonde, with freckles. Stocky and seemed to be good natured. A stark contrast to Sidney’s lithe frame with his pale dinner plate eyes and moppy dark hair. “You look like you’ve been down on your luck? Maybe you should take him up to the house?” He shrugged at David, who nodded.
“Aye, I can do that yes.” He grinned. “C’mon, lemme help you up then, and we can get you sorted.”
“House?” Sidney blinked, confused, but not ungrateful to the pair’s kindness thus far. “I- Oh.” He paused as David pointed through the hexagon window to his right. “I see…” On the hill there was in fact a large and lovely looking manor, with ivy crawling up its side and a large pond that skirted its front, surrounded by a maze of gardens, and a road that wound up to the front lane that had the house settled right on top of it. It was beautiful, even with winter causing the landscape to be mostly bare.
-- -- --
“You’ll be wanting some breakfast I think.” David said cheerily. “I think Charlotte might be able to fix you up a quick one. It’s not often that we get visitors out here. She’ll be charmed.”
“Charlotte?” Sidney’s brow furrowed. He was unsure of what to make of this place he had come to find by accident. “I’m not visiting, I’m not even meant to be here- I-”
It was too late. They had reached the end of the lane already. The manor towered above them, and Sidney had to crane his neck to even try to see the top of it while being that close. It was easily three or four times as big as his uncle's house, and he had found Hartebrook to be grand enough. David flounced up to the door and knocked before sharply returning happily to him again. Then they waited, and as they did, Sidney felt his mouth run dry. At best he was a grubby trespasser. Surely whoever lived in this manor would have no need to talk to him, other than to scold him and send him on his way.