Tristan Farnon raised his eyes from the paperwork on his desk as a yellow piece of note paper appeared from under his office door. He sighed and reluctantly got up to retrieve it. This day had been dragging on forever. It was probably the receptionist badgering him to reply to his messages again. This was the part of his job at the Ministry of Agriculture that he found particularly onerous.
Tristan,
I cannot get any work done when Wendy keeps giving me your phone messages. This is not in my job description! You need to call Mr. Matthews back NOW.
Please? xx
There was no name on the note, but the meticulous handwriting was unmistakable. He sighed, looking out the battered window at the brick, mortar and asphalt outside. He missed the Dales, but he needed a steady, good-paying job now more than ever and preferably one that would not include rude awakenings in the middle of the night. He heard the door knob rattle as it turned and frustration arose in him again. Everyone in the building seemed to be in such a rush that they could never remember to respect a man's privacy and have the courtesy to knock. He wheeled around to berate the visitor but stopped at the sight of the impatient-looking woman who had entered.
"Gwen would you come in here please?" he responded brusquely as the young brunette opened her mouth to explain her sudden appearance. She rolled her eyes at his tone as she closed the office door behind her.
"Tris I really need the report from-" she began but was cut off by a passionate kiss as Tristan took her in an embrace that was far from work-appropriate.
"The ones on paper just weren't enough?" she asked playfully when he came up for air. "I thought I was pushing professional boundaries even with that…"
"I took them as an IOU, payable at the time of my choosing," Tristan replied with a grin before leaning in to meet her lips again.
"Well you owe me now," she replied sternly, releasing the embrace and giving him a firm pat on the shoulder. "You haven't made the phone call yet."
"I can't stand this job," he grumbled. "Being away from it has only made me loathe it more."
"Then quit and go back to the practice full-time!" his good-natured companion replied. "Seigfried will make a scene but in the end he needs the help. That new vet seems a little odd. I'm not sure that the Dales folk will take to him all that well. If you can't convince him I'm sure I can. He never says no to me."
Tristan was absolutely certain that this was true. It was maddening at times. "Wide eyes, a forlorn furrowed brow and a pitiful sigh and he's putty in your hands. I wish I had similar feminine wiles to use on him some days. He is a merciless tyrant more often than not," Tristan proclaimed with dramatic flourish. "But I have more than just my own selfish whims to think about now."
"Darling, I'm the one telling you to follow your heart," she said, as if it would be the simplest thing in the world. "It's not as if I am particularly attached to this job."
"Yes, the honeymoon is over. Back to the drudgery of the everyday workplace," he sighed wistfully, looking utterly pitiful as he pulled her close again.
"And people say I'm dramatic," she rolled her eyes and Tristan absent-mindedly slid his hand down her skirt from her waist to her backside.
"TR-ISS!" She exclaimed, forcefully slapping his hand away. "STOP it! You know how close they were to firing me the moment they saw a diamond on my finger. Because what use would a married woman possibly have for a job? Of course I would instantly get pregnant and be of no use to them anymore. Anyway, the point is, you are not treating me in a professional manner at this moment!"
"You Canadians with your radical ideas," Tristan laughed, quite used to these outbursts of sentiment. "You'll cause an uproar all over this corner of the world up with that kind of talk."
"That is what I came over here for. Nothing to do with the war at all," she replied, glancing over the papers on Tristan's desk and picking up the one that she had come for. "I'm really going now. Good afternoon Mister Farnon."
"To you as well Mrs. Farnon," he replied, stopping her in her tracks.
"You are so sly." She shook her head as she glanced back at him. They grinned giddily at each other for a second, still getting used to the new domestic situation. "See you at five, and not before!" she commanded, pointing an accusing finger at him and waiting for his nod of agreement.
"I love you," he mouthed giving her his most irresistible grin just before she slipped out of the office.
After the war Tristan had returned to Darrowby and had slipped back into his usual frivolous ways, frequenting the local pubs and drinking himself into oblivion nearly every weekend, and on many week nights as well. It was the only way that he knew to let off steam and cope with the chaos and uncertainly of the last five years. He had met Gwen Cooper when she was tending the bar at one of the busier pubs near his flat in Leeds. Her hearty laugh and genuine smile had caught his attention first.
Upon further examination he found the sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her nose utterly charming in contrast with her pale complexion. Her long, thick, dark-brown hair was partially pulled back and looked tousled from rushing around and her form-fitting emerald dress was cut in just such a way that he could catch a glimpse of her chest as she leaned over to chat to the two men that she was handing whiskies to. She looked like one of the pin-up girls whose photos had lined the barracks that he had stayed in for the early years of the forties. Like an hourglass, full in all the right places. When she finally turned to Tristan he suddenly realized how obviously he had been staring.
"What can I get for you then?" she asked, already sounding exhausted but still cheerful.
Her accent had caught him off guard. She was clearly not from anywhere on this continent. He made his choice and was about to ask for her name when she piped up.
"No, I'm not from here," she admitted, clearly noticing his pensive expression. "I feel like I should make an announcement or something." She laughed as she poured him a pint of the house's best bitter.
He opened his mouth again, fully intending to work his charm on her but saw that he had unfortunately lost her attention.
"Sorry," she said, placing her hand on his free one as she turned to the lineup of men at the other side of the bar. "I don't have a clue where Emma's got to," she explained, speaking of her currently-absent co-worker. "Saturday nights are mad!"
She hurried over to the crowd of thirsty men, a few of which were clearly ogling her. Tristan felt extremely indignant until her realized that he had been doing precisely the same thing only a few minutes before.
They had met again later that night just outside the back door of the pub.
"Hello again," he said smirking, glancing at the cigarette in her hand. He would never have pegged her as a smoker. Based on his observations, she gave the impression of being the innocent, responsible sort of girl, friendly but not at the expense of her duties.
"I just have one to relax every once in a while," she said quickly, seeming self-conscious. "I told Em I wouldn't anymore. If my mum knew she'd have my head. I'm lucky she's across the ocean!" She paused, looking a little sad. "I guess we all picked up some new ways of coping over that past few years."
"I've never been able to break the habit either," Tristan replied with a sympathetic smile as he pulled his own cigarette from his pocket and fumbled looking for a lighter.
She chuckled and handed him her own from her coat pocket.
"So you're Emma's cousin…" he mumbled, in the midst of his first puff.
"Gwen. Yeah. I didn't know I was famous," she said, seeming unsure of what to think about his prior knowledge of her.
"Truth be told, I asked Archie who you were," he admitted, making his interest obvious and trying to gauge her response. "And he told me you were probably smoking out back. I'm Tristan."
She reached out to shake his hand with her free one.
"Nice to meet you Tristan," she said with a laugh. "A girl can have no secrets in this household I'm telling you," she sighed. "They are sweet to have me, but living with newlyweds is extremely uncomfortable at times. But I lost my job in London when the CWAC, the women's army corps, disbanded and I had no intention of moving back in with my parents in Canada..."
"Hmm I know the feeling. I lived with my brother and his business partner and his wife in Darrowby before I joined up."
"And now?" she asked, seeming sincerely interested.
"I've got a job at the Min. of Ag. and I have a flat here in town" he explained. "I still work at the practice on the occasional weekend though."
"Doing what exactly?"
Tristan realized that he was not doing a very good job of explaining himself. He had not been trying to be elusive. He had tried the mystery man act in the past, but somehow he did not think that it would work on this girl.
"Tending to the needs of sick and injured livestock and pets of the Dales," he answered with a tone which suggested that he was involved in performing the Lord's own work.
"You're a vet then?" She guessed. This seemed to have piqued her interest, much to Tristan's delight.
"Hmm," Tristan nodded, "but after tending to war horses day in and day out for god knows how long I decided it was time for a change of pace. I'm behind a desk for a good part of the day now."
"And I traded a desk for the bar," she laughed. "Something I never dreamed I would ever say."
"And now you're lighting up in a back alley with a man you just met," Tristan added, with a teasing smile. She seemed to be biting, so he was determined to bring on the Farnon charm now that they had a moment alone.
"I've fallen hard it seems," she laughed, coughing on the quickly exhaled smoke. They stood side-by-side, leaned up against the wall in silence for a moment before she spoke again.
"I'm feeling a little lost to be honest. I can't impose on them forever, even if we are like siblings. Of course I'm getting ahead of myself like always. I've only just started working here," she sighed as she gazed up at the clear, starry sky. "I guess I sort of dreamed when I came to England that I'd find some sweet, dashing colonel who though many years my senior would be a loyal and doting companion, or a stoic, long-suffering naval man who would say that I pierce his soul and that he is half agony, half hope waiting for my love…"
"There's nothing wrong with being a romantic at heart, I say," Tristan agreed. "I've never been much of a fan of Miss Austen's work myself. What is so attractive about a conceited, elitist prig with ten thousand quid a year? Other than the money I suppose."
Tristan was glad in this moment that he had read the entirety of Austen's work in pursuit of other ladies before. Knowledge of fictitious Regency romantic relationships was becoming more useful than he had ever imagined.
"No amount of money could convince me," Gwen agreed, shaking her head. "Darcy's a prat. I'd take Bingley over him any day. Though someday I'm sure I'll inevitably accept that life in almost never like in novels." She dropped the butt of her cigarette onto the gravel and stamped it out wither heel for good measure. "I've only just met you and I'm telling you my entire life story," she said apologetically. "I suppose I'm been feeling a bit lonely since moving up here. I've been reading a lot if you hadn't guessed. Though most men I have talked to here would never have understood a literary reference like that."
"It's a pleasure to alleviate your loneliness," Tristan answered sincerely, though he wished he could do so by means other than talking as well. He had impressed her with his knowledge so he felt he was on the right track.
Gwen smiled shyly in thanks as she popped a mint from her pocket into her mouth and turned to prop open the back door.
"I should get back in there before Archie has a fit," she said seeming reluctant. "See you later then Tristan."
A few minutes later they met again at the bar as Gwen was unloading a tray of clean glasses. He lingered without a word seeing that she was busy and she was the one who struck up the conversation again.
"What I hate most about this job so far is that I am constantly socializing, but I don't even get a chance to really talk to anyone. I just have to giggle and make small talk and hope that it translates into tip money. It's exhausting."
The disdain in her tone suggested that she that she was being forced to do something morally horrendous rather than serving drinks.
Tristan saw this as the opportune moment that he had been waiting for.
"Well, I'd love to buy you a drink and have a chat," he began "but your employment situation is problematic at the moment…"
"You're sweet," she replied with sincere gratitude "but getting fired for inebriation on my first night would be an even worse low I'm afraid…"
"Well maybe some night when you are free…" he suggested.
"You'd like to get me drunk?" she asked, feigning a scandalized expression. "You are a gentleman!"
"Well…" Tristan hesitated, "not exactly." He was unsure whether this response applied more to the part about getting her drunk or the part about him being a gentleman.
She laughed heartily. "Sounds lovely. Next Thursday perhaps?"
"It's a date," Tristan agreed grinning. They gazed into each other's smiling eyes for a silent moment before Gwen giggled and looked away shyly.
"Oi love! Can I git another pint over 'ere?" A voice called from the other side of the bar. Emma seemed to have vanished again. She was a nice girl but Tristan was nonetheless frustrated with her for neglecting her duties and foiling his plans by forcing Gwen to rush around and serve everyone in the crowded establishment.
"Sorry Tristan, duty calls! Give me a ring at the house sometime this week and we can sort things out. Thanks again for listening to me ramble on." She gave his hand a squeeze as they shared a parting smile. As she got back to work Tristan heard one of the older regulars giving Gwen some friendly advice.
"You'd better watch out fer that Farnon! You're jus' the sort of sweet young lass 'e'd be bound te chase after!"
Tristan remembered that night fondly. She was the one woman who could get him to settle down; his sweet, exuberant, ever-loving Gwen. In so many ways she was the complete opposite of himself in her over-achieving, hyper-responsible, ever thoughtful ways, but somehow she put up with him. It was amazing how the pubs seemed less and less appealing when there was an affectionate lady to go home with every night, not that he had given up his previous social times with the lads altogether. Everyone in Darrowby adored her, especially young Jimmy and Rosie Herriot, who began calling her "Auntie Gwen" after only their second meeting and asked Tristan if he was going to marry her every time he volunteered for babysitting duty.
Gwen had left her home in Kingston, Ontario and joined up in '42 hoping to do her bit for Queen and country and had ended up doing clerical work in London as her military service. Not that she had had any desire to fight, despite her vehement support of the eradication of sexual discrimination in the workforce. Emma, Gwen's best friend and cousin who she had worked with in the service and stayed with in London had met Archie, a Northerner, on a short term assignment in France and married him near the war's end. He had taken over the pub that his father had run for years and offered Gwen a job in Leeds when she heard that she would lose her position a few months after the fighting had stopped. As it turned out, Tristan would be eternally grateful for this sequence of events.
Tristan's relationship with Gwen had blossomed rather quickly, much to the dismay of some of the local girls who had heard of his previous reputation and were hoping to capitalize on his love of eager single ladies. He frequented the Green Dragon when Gwen was working and often had her by his side when she was free, even on his veterinary rounds. When a job opened up for a clerical case worker at the Ministry, Tristan put in a good word for her and with her wealth of experience she was hired shortly after. She had been assigned to his aid on some of his more intensive cases to keep records while he investigated instances of contagious disease amongst the livestock of the local farmers. When he was promoted to Fertility Advisor she was amused but supportive and he did not mind the banter that came out of his new title when they were in private, despite his protests.
The night that he proposed had been the most terrifying of his life. He could not help thinking that he was making a mistake. This was not the first time he had seriously considered marriage. He had been determined to give up his career aspirations and work as a bartender in a hotel in exchange for the hand of a lovely Scottish lass before the war, but she was far in his past now and probably long married. He had always been determined never to be tied down, partly for his own sake but for the woman's sake as well, as he had a rather unsavoury reputation that he feared he would never entirely fail to deserve.
Despite his previous protests to the institution of marriage Tristan had always craved stability. Now he felt that most who knew him felt that he being such a ne'er-do-well did not deserve someone so devoted and loving as Gwen. He could no longer count how many times he had been threatened with some horrible retaliation if he broke her heart. To make matters worse, he had also been told numerous times by the locals that children loved her so much that it would be a crime if she never became a mother, but he was choosing to ignore that idea for now. Then again, with every young couple that they ran into having babies, Tristan was often reminded that it was only a matter of time.
What he loved about Gwen, among many other traits, was that she made him want to be better. Not to be different, but a more responsible, accountable version of himself. She gave him a reason to try but rarely nagged him when he did slip up. He listened to her rant about life's big questions and helped her calm her down when she was over-thinking things, which he came to find happened quite often. They were a formidable team, ready to take on the world together. He wanted to give her a secure, love-filled, adventurous life. She had told him once that her father had always said that she was the kind of girl that men look for when they want a girl to marry, not just one to fool around with and she had always been fairly at peace with that idea. Perhaps, he thought, this was why he felt she was different than the string of other girls he had pursued in the past.
He had been carrying a ring for several weeks waiting for the right moment to ask the question by the time the day finally came. It was not overly flashy, but it was the best he could afford on his salary and luckily his soon-to-be fiancée was not one for expensive jewelry anyway. The looming question had left him feeling extremely agitated, even after he had received a reply from her father saying that he supported the idea of her marriage and was relieved to have someone to look after his little girl when she was so far away.
One evening at Skeldale house after Gwen had accompanied him on his weekend rounds they were alone, warming up on the sofa with drinks and the heat of the fire. Gwen cuddled into his chest and closed her eyes whispering "Do you remember what today is?"
"I have absolutely no idea," Tristan replied through a yawn, leaning his head back.
"I just realized that we met exactly a year ago," she said, enlightening him.
"How do you keep track of these things?" he mumbled, beginning to doze. Suddenly, he opened his eyes again as an idea dawned on him. He was determined. This was the moment. She had been clear that she did not want any fuss, just the two of them sharing a private but pivotal decision. "I have something to ask you," he murmured finally.
Gwen's eyes flew open and she looked up at him, eyebrows raised expectantly, hoping she knew what was coming next. She sat up and gave him room to move. Tristan turned to face her, still sitting and took both of her hands in his. All of the clever, romantic lines that he had thought of had suddenly completely escaped him, but he knew he had to stumble through.
"Gwen, I am not perfect, and I will never be a perfect husband, but I have never loved anyone like I love you and so, if you would be willing I would like the chance to try…"
He fumbled in the pocket of his jacket, which was draped across the arm of the sofa and retrieved the box. He opened it as he knelt in front of Gwen who was already tearing up. He took a deep breath and finally verbalized the words that he had been rehearsing for so long.
"Gwendolyn Elizabeth Cooper, would you do me the honour of being my wife."
"Of course Tris! Yes!" she assured him, bursting into tears and throwing her arms around him, nearly knocking him over from his position on one knee.
After that moment, his fear had vanished. Even when he stood at the front of an old stone church in his best suit he had not doubted that the beauty coming down the aisle was the one who would have his heart forever. Everyone close to them rejoiced as most had believed that he would never settle down. Helen was especially expressive of her pleasure as she and Gwen had become fast friends since the day that they were first introduced.
At the end of the day Tristan packed up his briefcase and strolled down to the main office where Gwen was still typing speedily. She was whispering to herself as she worked as usual, and in her hyper focussed state she did not hear him walk up behind her.
"Ready to go?" he murmured placing his hands on both her shoulders.
Gwen jumped. "Thirty seconds," she breathed, quickly typing the last few words on the sheet that she was completing. "This outbreak of foot in mouth has been killing me!" she explained. "They want a detailed report of the symptoms of each specific cow typed up and sent off by tomorrow afternoon but there's two hundred of them now and everyone they are sending out to examine them has handwriting resembling chicken scratch. And Lizzie's been sick for two days now so I'm doing double-duty."
"Come on," he urged her, sounding more impatient than he had intended to. He took her coat from the rack in the corner and holding it out for her to slide into.
"Still bemoaning the drudgery of workaday life?" she teased, hurriedly placing the papers that littered her desk in folders.
"I think I'll manage, although I haven't stopped thinking about going back to the practice since you brought it up."
He almost could not believe what he was saying. Working with his brother had never ceased to cause him grief, but now he would at least have someone else on his side during their disagreements. Gwen was silent on the issue as they walked out to the parking lot, but finally spoke what was on her mind.
"There's one thing that I would miss about the Ministry…" she said thoughtfully.
"What's that?" Tristan asked, opening the car door and leaning against it to wait for her answer.
"You wouldn't be fertility specialist anymore! I've not had the chance to make full use of your services yet!" She tried her best to look put-out, but a teasing smile crept across her face despite her best efforts.
"Oh good grief!" Tristan exclaimed, shutting the door behind her and marching around the vehicle to get in. He had always acted upset when anyone made a joke about his position but it did not bother him nearly as much as he let on when Gwen mentioned it.
"I'd consider keeping the title, just for you," he finally replied as he started the engine.
This type of banter usually meant that Gwen was feeling particularly eager and there was a cheeky glint in her green eyes that he now knew all too well. Tristan drove home more quickly than usual that evening, hoping that the honeymoon did not have to be quite over yet and feeling that perhaps every day work life was not so bad after all.
Author's Note: Thank you for reading my little story! If you enjoyed it please leave a review to let me know that you did! Just to clarify, I deviated from the timeline of the TV show (by shortening the gap between the end of the war and the events of Series 4) in case anything was confusing. I always felt that Tris had so much potential to really love one lady but all of his relationships seemed to turn into disasters. This was my attempt to fix that!