A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay! I got stuck in a rut for a while. But I promise to have more soon.
1916.
Colin knew as soon as he stepped out of the carriage that something had changed. It was there in the tingle of the air, the feeling that something new and beautiful was afoot. It was in the small smiles of the servants to each other when they thought no one was looking, when really there was no reason to be smiling at all.
Colin knew what the cause of such happiness was, and it hit him like a cold stone in the pit of his stomach. He squared his jaw and looked around him at the Manor, at the gardens and the moor stretching away from them, and felt the oppressiveness of the place pressing in on him like a stifling blanket.
He had hardly taken a step when there was a cry from the walkway leading round to the gardens, and the sound of feet running on gravel. A moment later and Mary had thrown herself into his arms.
"Oh Colin!" she gasped, pressing herself to him in a way that made his breath catch and his body react in a distinctly un-cousin-like manner. "It's so good to see you!"
He hurriedly stepped back and away from her, unable to bear the sweet torture of her touch. For a split second Mary looked hurt, before the smile was back on her face and she took his hand and began to talk at a million miles an hour, almost slipping into Yorkshire now and then in her haste.
"Oh but it is so good t' see thee again and my goodness you've grown so tall, you look like a right proper gentleman now, and you simply must come an' see th' garden, it's positively graidely at the moment, Dickon and I have been tending t' it every day, Dickon works here now o' course and – " she stopped suddenly and turned on the spot. "But where is Dickon?"
"Right here, Miss Mary," came the laughing voice to their right, and Colin turned to see Dickon standing a few feet from them, his hands in his pockets and a lopsided grin on his face. He saw Colin and nodded once. "All righ', Colin?"
Colin nodded back and forced a smile. Dickon had shot up since he'd last seen him over a year ago, and he was looking every bit the strapping young Yorkshire lad Colin had always known he would turn into. His face had lost its youthful softness and become lean and handsome, but the bright blue eyes, upturned nose and wide, laughing mouth were the same as they'd always been. Beneath his simple working clothes it was obvious that Dickon had grown from boy to man, his body hardened from a life of labour in a way that Colin's never would be.
Hurriedly, Colin averted his gaze, not wanting to be caught staring. Mary was still babbling away, oblivious to the fact that Colin wasn't paying attention. She had only grown more beautiful in the past year, he noted with a combination of pride and bitterness. Her hair was long and buttery, her eyes sparkled with life, and beneath her summer frock she had developed the body of a young woman, all soft roundness and gentle curves. He averted his eyes again, a lump forming in his throat that made it difficult to breathe. The two of them were beautiful and perfect for each other and he hated them for it.
"Mary, for heaven's sake, give the poor boy a moment to find his feet," Medlock's sharp but good-natured voice rang out, and Mary came to an abrupt halt.
"Oh, I am sorry," she said, her eyes wide in a gorgeous show of attrition. "It's just been such a long time and we have so many things we wanted to show you."
We, we, we. Colin clenched his jaw and looked across at Dickon. The older boy was no longer smiling, but instead gazed at Colin with a thoughtful expression, as though trying to figure him out. Colin stared back boldly, and Dickon blinked, his eyebrows drawing together. Still Colin stared, unsmiling, wanting Dickon to get the message. If the moor boy thought he was giving in without a fight, he was wrong.
Mary was oblivious to the silent messages passing between the two boys. She was now prattling away to a pained-looking Medlock about all the activities she had planned. Colin coughed politely, and Mary stopped to look at him.
"I think," he said slowly, now pointedly ignoring Dickon after their staring contest. "That I should like to speak with my father first, before anything else. Then I should like to retire for a while, to rest."
Mary looked a little taken aback, but she recovered quickly. "Of course," she smiled. "Well, we'll be in the garden when you want us."
We, us. Colin resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Very well," he said abruptly, turning and walking into the manor. He had business to attend to.
"Did you think there was anything strange about Colin today?" she asked, looking up from the lilies she was inspecting. Dickon too stopped what he was doing and wiped his brow.
"Eh," he said evasively. "I don' rightly know."
"Of course you do," she said with a small smile. "You're the best judge of people I know."
He seemed bemused at her praise. "I don' know abou' tha," he said lightly. "After all, I've no' been anywhere but Yorkshire."
"That doesn't matter," she said with confidence. "A person can travel all over the world and still know less about people than you do. Anyway, what did you think of Colin?"
He shrugged. "He did seem a little…different. I s'pose it's jus' th' sudden change from London t' here. Give him a few days t' get his bearin's an' he'll be good as new." He grinned at her, that infectious smile she couldn't help but return.
"I hope you're right," she said thoughtfully. "I don't think I could bear it if London had changed Colin for the worst. He's as good as my brother, after all."
For a moment Dickon looked troubled. But then the smile was back and he breathed the air in deep. "It'll be alrigh'. Summer's comin', after all."
A/N: If you're reading this story then please don't forget to review, they are what keeps me motivated to keep writing!
