Author's Notes: Firstly, thank you for clicking to read this! Secondly, I know my writing isn't great. I'm trying to improve all the time. This was written out of pure enjoyment and curiosity to explore headcanons about Miles. It was also based on a dream I was lucky enough to have about it all! It is very dialogue heavy and I doubt my characterisation of Miles is great. So yeah...I hope you at least tolerate whatever this is. Feel free to review if you have the time. Also, a thank you to buildarocketboys from tumblr for being the source for quite a few of these headcanons aha.
The topic of discussion at the table had been the topic of discussion for the past week, and the siblings were tiring of it. They'd glance across the table at each other between conversations, give each other a look that only they could understand, and go back to listening to the miserable topic. They both refrained from joining in with the chat because they both knew what the war meant; separation.
The elder of the two, the young man, toyed with his dessert with his spoon. A habit he did as a child and as of late had come back, even though he was turning twenty-eight that year.
"So, Cassandra" – the voice came from Sir Andrew Dowrey. The girl beside him but opposite Miles flinched, and then looked up from fiddling with the napkin on her lap.
"Hm?" she answered, dis-interested but too bored to ignore.
"I bet it was a huge shock to have the war declared on your birthday of all days". Cassandra refrained from rolling her eyes. She caught her brother's glance before letting her lips curl into a small smile.
"Oh, such a shock; I could hardly believe it when father announced it". At hearing 'father', the man at the head of the table shot a glimpse to his offspring.
"I bet it was not the birthday present you were hoping for" – chuckles erupted from the dinner party and the older man looked considerably proud of himself for being 'amusing'.
"I'm quite surprised you know the date of my birthday Sir Dowrey" the seventeen-year old said with sarcastic enthusiasm, the exchange of words was being overlooked by Miles who had said less than normal that evening.
"I'd quite like to get to know more important dates in your life, Cassandra" the man old enough to be her father responded in a more rasping voice, trying to catch her eye and move a little closer. The adolescent had no comeback and was recoiling out of embarrassment without showing it physically. Miles noticed the attempt to close the distance and sighed. The sigh did not go unnoticed.
"Miles" his father's voice seemed to silence everyone else for a moment. "Do you know where you will be placed now?" Miles, with hesitancy, turned his head to look at his father.
"I have been placed in Boulogne". His father gave an approving nod. All he had ever done was nod since Miles had become a practised surgeon. Something he did not want to do but felt he had no other choice. The hard thing for Miles was that he knew he was skilled at it. Everyone knew he was skilled at it. He just…
"Has anyone from medical school been placed in Boulogne?" his father continued.
"Captain Thomas Gillan" Miles countered with a certain fondness to his voice. Cassandra had heard about Thomas in Miles' letters; the two had become friends and she knew Miles quite liked him.
"Oh, the Scottish boy?" his father cut back. Everyone around the table became quiet.
"Yes" Miles said quietly, raising a hand to rub the back of his neck underneath the collar of his army uniform.
"You should be cautious of who you befriend" an associate of his father's said to him from across the table, "You don't want to be mingling with the wrong sort of people".
"I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thank you Sir" he muttered under his breath.
"Your children have the reputation for mixing with the wrong sort, Sir Hesketh-Thorne" the wife of the man who had spoken previously added with a shrill laugh that made Cassandra die a little bit inside.
Her father clenched his fists from under the table. The incident had become a joke now, but the older man hadn't forgotten the shame it had brought him.
"Well, we soon put that right with our Cassandra". Miles looked at his sister with sorry eyes. The incident they were referring to happened a year ago. Cassandra had always rebelled with disastrous consequences. Having a forbidden romance with the boy that looked after the horses was one of her greatest moments and worst downfalls. It had only lasted a month. Miles knew of it but said nothing; apart from warn her to not get caught. She got caught. It had been one of the few times her father had hit her and it had been one of the few times Miles had physically intervened – he did not like being violent, even if it was directed towards his father. Miles had even seen her behave…homosexually in the past, but again said nothing. He did not have a problem with that.
However, news of this romance had spread like wildfire and Cassandra's 'reputation' was on the verge of ruin until she was made to apologise for her actions and confirm that she was still virtuous. She had been smitten with the boy in question, but they had never gone as far as she would have hoped. She hadn't heard from him since her father found out.
"Yes, it's just a shame I raised a daughter who prefers to be in riding gear than a gown!" Lady Hesketh-Thorne said suddenly, followed by a loud but awkward laugh. It was the first thing she had said all night. The table chortled too, all but Miles and Cassandra that is.
"Speaking of riding Miss Cassandra" the voice came from Sir Dowrey again and the teenager, not too content with her mother's comment or the fact the incident had been brought up again, refused to look at him. The fact she wasn't looking at him didn't deter him in the least. "I would love you to come to Burtwick Park sometime and have a ride with me". Cassandra sighed irritatingly. She did not want to ride with Sir Dowrey. She was well aware to why she had been placed by him at the dinner table, but she would not conform to the behaviour she was 'meant' to be showing. "Just think how divine it would be-"
"So very divine" she retorted sarcastically, "But I'm afraid I do not wish to come to Burtwick Park".
"Why ever not?" he scoffed loud enough to catch the attention of everyone on the table. Sir Hesketh-Thorne had already been observing his daughter.
"Because I do not wish too, that's easy enough to understand, is it not?" Sir Dowrey appeared highly offended. Miles put his spoon down in preparation for confrontation. The sound of her father standing made her sit up straight.
"Cassandra, you apologise to Sir Dowrey".
"For what?" she enquired without making eye contact with her father, her voice not sounding as strong as she hoped. The older man slammed his hand down on the table and she jumped back in her seat.
"For being so discourteous". Cassandra felt the eyes of the table judging her, even down to their butler. She said nothing. "Do not push me Cassandra. Apologise before I make you do so" her father threatened, appearing as though he was about to move towards his daughter. Miles stood up.
"She doesn't want to go for a blasted ride with Sir Dowrey. What in heaven's name is wrong with that?" he asked, voice straining. His father's eyes fell on his own but he quickly diverted them back to his sister. "You don't need to apologise Cass".
"Miles, get out" his father growled, sitting back down in his seat, not defeated but too lazy for confrontation with his defiant son. Miles headed for the door of the room. They had all finished anyway, so he knew his sister would join him as soon as she could. He shot one look at her again before leaving and slamming the door. The table slowly starting talking to each other again; Sir Hesketh-Thorne was glaring at his daughter. Cassandra's bottom lip quivered and she gave in, even though Miles had fought for her.
"I apologise for my behaviour Sir Dowrey".She glanced at her father again, he was still glaring. "I do wish to go for that ride with you" she added, defeated out of fear. Sir Dowrey relaxed and his lips curled into a smirk.
"Apology accepted. You'll love Burtwick Park as it is now. You used to go there when you were a child. Oh, and you used to comment on my fine horses…" the man placed a hand on her own as he spoke. She ignored the uncomfortable clammy feeling of his much larger hand and she talked idly – she wouldn't have to do it for long; just until they moved into a different room.
Miles was outside. He had walked around the grounds, picking at the hedges for fifteen minutes. He lent against the walls of the place he called home and reflected upon how much he wouldn't miss it. He wouldn't miss his father. He wouldn't miss his mother. He'd hardly miss any of the staff aside a few. He looked to the ground with sunken eyes; the person he would miss was his sister. She was the light of his life and he did not want to leave her. He couldn't intervene if he was in France. He didn't know what would happen to her while he was gone and the thought made him hurt. If he could somehow bring her with him, everything would be ok.
Everything wasn't going to be ok. He was stronger of the two siblings, and he had tried his best to cheer her up in the worst of situations. Well, they both were cheery people but she was sensitive as much as she was optimistic. If she saw him now, lent against a wall with tears staining his cheeks, she'd be in ruins. It was best to cry now, he thought, than cry when she'd be crying to him about the wretched reality of his departure to France.