Author's Note: I must admit, in the past 20-30 chapters of this story, I've pulled quite a bit of inspiration from Downton Abbey. As an homage to that, I made a mention of it in this chapter.

~BD


Aftermath ~ dig a little deeper

The talk in the kitchen ceases when the door from upstairs bangs open and the head gardener enters, looking surly and annoyed. He heads for the stove and pours a cup of tea, his back resolutely turned to the rest of the group, because he is certain they are all talking about him just moments before. How could they not be?

There is a long, tense pause before his older sister speaks, though her voice is rather anxious. "How are thy lessons goin'?" she asks.

He bites his tongue to avoid a snappish retort and his free hand clenches at his side.

Mrs. Medlock must have noticed, because she says sagely, "About as well as can be expected, I imagine."

"I donna know why Mester Colin insists on this," Dickon mutters, turning to the table to find the sugar and cream.

Jemmy, stirring his own tea with his remaining hand, smiles kindly. "Cause thy's Mester Colin's closes' friend, I imagine. And besides, we would all rather it be thee instead o' someone none o' us knew well, or a'tall, helpin' t' manage th' estate."

"Aye," one of the upstairs maids nods solemnly. "We all think tha', Dickon. Thy'll get th' hang o' it all soon enow, especially wit' thee wife and Lady Craven helping thee."

"Listen to them and take heart," Mrs. Opal says stoutly. "Besides. The world won't end if you use the wrong fork at dinner tonight."

"It might," Dickon says mulishly, just to argue the point. "An' would serve Colin well if'n it did."

Martha laughs. "Tha sounds like Miss Mary, tha does! Contrary and ornery!"

The maids, gardeners and under-butlers around the kitchen table burst into laughter; Dickon Sowerby has been around his wife for years now, and it would be more of a surprise if he hadn't picked up some of her ways.

However, Mistlethwaite's cook, Mrs. Neadwell, doesn't laugh with the rest. Sitting at her desk, she waits for the noise to die down before she says thoughtfully, "It mayn't be as unusual as tha thinks for a lord to hire a commoner t' help manage an estate, Dickon. I hear they did th' same at Downton."

"Aye, they did indeed," John, the former footman-turned-butler, agrees. His eyes are still twinkling with laughter, but his voice is all seriousness. "Th' chauffer married th' younges' daughter, an' now he helps manage th' estate wit' Lord Crawley. So tha sees, Dickon. 'Tis not so unusual."

"Perhaps I ought t' ask him how he gets on wit' it all," Dickon mutters, draining the tea and putting the cup by the sink for washing.

Jamison smiles at Dickon. "Well, if you like, John and I can help you this evening with the silverware. Seeing as how we have to memorize all of that sort of thing in order to set the tables properly."

"Aye." John smiles. "Jamison and I, we wouldn' mind at all, tha knows that."

"No, but thank thee," Dickon replies grimly. "I'll get th' hang o' it soon enow. Otherwise, all o' Mester Colin's friends will laugh at me, an' I donna wan' tha', for certain. But if I change me mind, I'll let thee know."

Without another word, he leaves the kitchen, looking unapproachable and frustrated. As soon as he's gone, Mrs. Medlock, Mrs. Neadwell, and Mrs. Opal exchange looks. There is no getting through to Dickon when he's in a mood.

"He didn' used t' be like that when he was a child," Martha says sadly. "He used t' never be sullen or cross."

"The war changed him," Mrs. Medlock murmurs.

Jemmy nods and looks into his tea. "Aye, she's righ', Martha. The war changed all o' us boys who went."

John shakes his head in resignation. "Maybe so, but he's tryin' so hard and war or no, that would still frustrate him. I know it mun be a righ' challenge."

"Better him than me." Martha sighs.

Medlock scowls at her. "And you had best stop with that attitude, Martha-girl. I'm not training thee t' be a housekeeper for thee t' second-guess thyself."

Martha winces. "Aye, Mrs. Medlock. I knows."