'Sometimes it's hard to believe I'm not already in Paradise,' Archie thought, as he so often did during moments like this when Misselthwaite Manor was at its very best as under a sky turning pink in the setting sun the grounds all but hummed with life and a soft breeze carried a pleasant chill and cool, delicious scents.
Had there really been a time when he'd wanted to see it all destroyed? It was hard to think of that as being true now.
Today the misery of those grief-poisoned years were well in the past. Archie was in his late forties and his son was a fine young man who was tearing through his undergraduate years at Cambridge with limitless energy and passion for life. Archie allowed himself the indulgent smile he usually wore when thinking about Colin and broadened it when he also thought of his niece, Mary. She had grown into such a lovely young woman, he really was terribly proud of her.
A clanking sound broke into Archie's reverie as he leaned with his back against the plinth which supported a statue of an ancient deity that a master of Misselthwaite Manor more than a hundred-and-fifty years dead had once decided would be just the thing to tuck into this corner of the gardens. The clanking got closer and an empty wheelbarrow nosed its way out of a gap in the hedge propelled by Ben Weatherstaff.
'Lordship,' the old gardener grunted, setting down the wheelbarrow in order to respectfully touch the peak of his cap.
The correct form of address was 'Good evening, Lord Craven' or 'Good evening, my lord' or indeed nothing at all for only servants above a certain rank were permitted to address Archie directly but Ben, who was far below that rank, always spoke to him and 'Lordship' was as close as he ever came to showing deference. However he'd been a favourite of Lilias and Archie was always indulgent towards those who'd shown kindness to his late wife.
'Good evening, Weatherstaff. I hope I find you well?'
'Aye, fettlin'.
That should have been the end of their conversation but Ben seem reluctant to move so Archie raised an eyebrow to prompt him to say more.
'Tis about the lad, y'see,'
'What about him?' Archie asked, knowing that Ben was referring to Dickon.
He knew that Ben always affectionately called Dickon 'the lad' just as knew what seemed to be everything there was to know about Dickon due to Mary being unable to keep these details to herself such was her love-fuelled fascination with him. She was more in control of herself now she was a bit older however when she'd been around fifteen, sixteen, Archie had found the non-stop conversation about the wonders of a boy who when all was said and done was just a commoner off the moor extremely trying.
'He's fine is all. Thou won't find a steadier lad in all Yorkshire an' that should count for summat.'
Archie was surprised by Ben's determined tone.
'He mayn't 'ave riches an' houses an' all the rest of it but y'can't buy what he 'as got.'
Ben's lips quirked into something approaching a smile.
'Not even you, my lord. An' I reckon tha's rich enough to buy just about anythin'.'
Archie smiled back, amused by his servant's reckless teasing.
'Anything else?'
'I just hope he gets a fair hearin' is all.'
There was something touching about Ben's determination to speak up for a young man he clearly thought the world of.
'I will listen to anything that Dickon has to say,' said Archie, stressing his words to indicate that the subject was now closed.
Ben stared before nodding in satisfaction as if he'd seen in Archie's carefully blank expression the answer he sought then with another muttered 'Lordship', Ben picked up his wheelbarrow and walked away.
Whistling for the dogs who'd been happily padding about and sniffing at things, Archie leaned on his cane to stand straighter – it was a good day for him physically, today the cane was more an accessory than the only thing keeping him upright – and continued with his evening walk.
'I will listen to Dickon,' he thought. 'That's the easy part.'
Archie didn't know what would happen after that. In three days time Dickon Sowerby, a near-illiterate whom Archie effectively owned in that he employed him and housed him as he did Dickon's entire family had an appointment with Archie the purpose of which as it seemed everyone, absolutely everyone, knew was to ask for Mary's hand in marriage.
It was a ridiculous scenario, Archie ought to have Dickon dismissed, evicted and ruined for even daring to think of Mary in such a way. And yet...
He tried to tell himself that he owed it to Mary to dash Dickon's hopes because she was destined for a full life at the very top of the social hierarchy and would in time meet a man of equal status. However he'd always known this and had done nothing for ten years but watch as Mary's friendship with Dickon that had seemed so sweet at first had grown into a love which Dickon reciprocated in full. Ten years ago Archie would have been being kind to her and to Dickon to call a halt to their friendship, he would've been right and it would've been easy. Today he would still be right but there would be no ease in doing so.
'I have to,' Archie told himself. 'I can't allow them to be married.'
And yet...