Archive of Our Own

It was a heavy night that fell, dark, cold, and with no scattering of stars to light the navy blanket which fell across the earth. The trees stood still like soldiers on guard, no breeze blowing to lift their leaves. There was stillness all around, but it was not the still of peace and calm; the world seemed to be waiting for something.

Douglas lay alone in his room, awaiting the refreshment of sleep which usually came to him in such still moments as this, but his mind was troubled, and he slept not. After tossing and turning, hoping that one attitude or another would grant him the comfort of sleep faster than another, he rose from his bed in frustration and set out to find something else to occupy him until his mind gained the peace necessary for sleep. Dressing himself, he left his accommodation and made for the open hills which surrounded it.

The walk helped to clear his head somewhat, but he could not shake the feeling that something troubled him. After blindly pacing the ground for half an hour, he eventually sat down upon the earth, wringing his hands, and tried to search his soul for the source of his troubles. The stillness of the night air offered him no aid to his reflections, and his troubled heart seemed unfixed on what provided the source of his disturbed mind, which vexed him greatly, as he hoped to resolve whatever troubled him, and an unknown problem was therefore the most frustrating by which to be afflicted.

In truth, his heart was at war with his mind, and the feelings which his heart wished so greatly to be exposed, were suppressed by everything which his mind knew; the sensations of his heart were what his mind believed to be impossible, and until he could receive guidance in the contrary nature of the human heart, he would never be able to face the reality of what he felt. But Douglas was a young man, and fate might yet be kind to him, and ease his troubles. Douglas hoped that time would tell him how to ease his affliction, and after moodily picking blades of grass for half an hour, he abandoned all hope of finding rest for the night, and returned to his room to reflect in a more sheltered environment.

Dawn broke, and Douglas awoke from a light slumber to see weak rays of sunlight reaching through the window. He dressed again, hoping that the short repose he had experienced would have refreshed his mind, but his mind was as clouded as ever. Making his way downstairs, he was greeted by his uncle, who sat at the breakfast table with an important look on his face.
“Good morning, young Douglas,” he said stiffly. “I trust you slept well.”
Douglas lied and said that he had, before seating himself at the table and hoping that he would be served food shortly. His uncle, a Mr. Llewellyn, surveyed him sternly, before turning to his own meal, which had been served before Douglas arrived. Douglas’ mind was still in turmoil, leaving his stomach churning, but he hoped that the eating of his meal would distract his mind momentarily, and help to awaken his body, which felt to him as though he were still asleep, although his mind had barely rested; the food was soon served, and he fought against his stomach until it was finished.

Douglas had been living under the care of his uncle for several months now, ever since his parents had demanded he leave their home, and while he respected Mr. Llewellyn as a generous and kind-hearted man, who was prepared to care for the son of his estranged sister who was barely of age, he knew very little of him, and every moment in his presence reminded Douglas of the paternal affection which he had not received from his father for many months. Perhaps, Douglas thought to himself, as he reflected alone in his room, one of the things which troubled him was the sudden and unexplained coldness which he had been receiving from his father, the receipt of which had perplexed and upset him greatly, as, up until that point, Douglas’ father had been as fond as most fathers are of their eldest son. Douglas felt a tight knotting sensation rise in his throat as he contemplated the treatment that he had received at the hands of both of his parents and he began to sob quietly into his handkerchief.
“Mr Douglas sir?”
Douglas raised his head from his handkerchief and saw one of his uncle’s servants observing him with a concerned look on her face. “Worry not, Mildred,” he said weakly. “I am merely contemplating the events which led to my inhabitancy here. It is nothing you need trouble yourself with.”
“I am troubled on your behalf, young sir,” Mildred replied. “But crying often helps when a person is melancholy of spirits.” She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You need not be afraid of showing emotion in front of me, sir. There is no danger of me sharing its cause with the world; I rarely speak to the other servants, and I know that you would tell Mr Llewellyn if he needed to know.”
Douglas looked up at Mildred’s kind face; the earnestness of her gaze seemed to awaken something within him, and he found himself outpouring all his troubles to her. “My father used to be such a kind man,” he sobbed. “And while he had many children to lay claim to his attention, none of us felt neglected, and as his eldest son and heir, I felt as though he held a special place in his heart for me. He devoted much time to coaching me into a person capable of caring for the family after his demise, but quite suddenly, as I neared adulthood, his manner towards me became so cold and unfeeling, as though he hated the man he had raised. My own mother would not speak to me, and I felt alone in the world. I continued in this misery for years until I came of age to leave home, and they demanded that I quit their presence eternally. I knew not where I could turn, until I received correspondence from my uncle, of whom I had heard very little until that point, offering me shelter under his roof. I could but accept his offer, and that is how I came to live here, but I remain troubled at heart. Something deep within me plagues me, and I know not what. Perhaps the sight of my uncle reminds me of what I have lost. Perhaps something deep within me is fighting to get out, but I don’t know how to release it. It has begun to rob me of sleep, and yet I know not what it is. I fear that this will drive me mad. How can I relieve my heart of troubles when I know not what troubles it? How can I live as myself when I don’t even know who I am?”
“Your father may have taught you to become his heir,” Mildred began. “But he did not teach you how to become yourself. There are many lessons in the world to be learnt, and so few hours in a lifetime to learn them. My mother taught me that a human heart has a great capacity to love, and we must show love to those we meet. However, it was experience that taught me how the nature of love can vary wildly, and that sometimes we are incapable of loving others in the way that they desire. Perhaps your father had hoped that you would show favour to someone whom it was impossible for you to look at as more than a generally amiable person. Perhaps he struggled to feel paternal affection for you, and as you grew older his internal feelings became more conflicted until his only solution was to banish you from his sight so that he could no longer be reminded of his own failings as a parent. But know this, young Mr Douglas: you have a generous heart, and that will help you in more ways than you can understand.”
“Thank you, Mildred.” Douglas said after a short pause.
Mildred smiled, and left Douglas to solitary reflection.

While he had not yet learnt what troubled him, Douglas began to feel comforted by Mildred’s words, and slept much more soundly for the following few nights. A few days after his discussion, however, something occurred which changed the way Douglas looked at himself forever.

Mr Llewellyn was a well-known man with many associates, and consequently was invited to many social functions in the area, to which he often brought his nephew, as he believed Douglas would benefit from new society. On this occasion, Douglas accompanied his uncle to a small function not far from his house. Douglas felt uncomfortable, as most of the men were his uncle’s age, and he knew them not. However, as he sat alone in a corner of the room, he caught the eye of one of the younger men in the room, who approached him.
“Good evening, sir,” the young man said. “I hope that I am not disturbing you.”
“Not at all,” Douglas replied. “I find that I am not to be trusted with my thoughts, and this interruption is most welcome. My name is Douglas.” He held out his hand. “May I ask yours?”
“Thomas,” he replied, shaking Douglas’ hand. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Douglas.”
As Douglas gripped Thomas’ hand, he felt a strange sensation coming from the warmth he experienced. His heart began to beath faster, and he was torn between an urge to drop Thomas’ hand immediately and a longing to hold onto it forever. He let go of it after a few moments, clenching his fist to retain the sensation of Thomas’ hand for as long as possible.
“What brings you here, Douglas?”
“My uncle was invited, and he brought me along in the hopes that I would find comfort in company.”
“You are troubled? What troubles you, Douglas, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I was disowned by my parents, but beyond that I cannot say. I am in the midst of an internal struggle, but I know not what I am struggling with.”
Thomas sighed. “I have had my own experience with internal struggles, and I barely know the outcome of my own. I am ashamed of who I am, but I sometimes fear, sometimes celebrate, that I cannot change my nature.”
“You should never be ashamed of who you are.” Douglas put his hand on Thomas’ arm. “Sometimes we may do things that we are ashamed of, but who we are should never bring shame on ourselves. No person is perfect, and some people would do well to remember that.”
“Are you saying that I have a tendency to seek perfection?”
“No – I am saying that there are some who expect perfection from others, and that if you set yourself by the standards they create for you, you will never be happy, and that you would be better off accepting that you will never be perfect, but you can strive to be the best that you can.”
“You are a remarkable young man, Douglas. I hope that I may have the pleasure of future acquaintance with you.”
Douglas looked hard at Thomas’s face for a moment as he tried to gauge what he meant by this; there was such an earnestness in his look, combined with another feeling which Douglas struggled to understand, but before he could attempt to work it out, the demands of company put an end to their tete-a-tete.

That night, as he lay down to sleep, a fresh thought occupied Douglas’ mind – that of Thomas. Something about Thomas seemed to have caught Douglas’ eye, and Douglas was filled with a feeling which he never seemed to have felt before; his mind seemed to deny its possibility, but his heart welcomed the sensation as the most natural it had felt. He couldn’t stop thinking about Thomas: his eyes, his smile, the gentle pressure of his hand, the sound of his voice. Douglas longed to meet him again, but as he knew nothing of his family or his connections, he knew not when next they would meet. Again, Douglas grew too troubled for sleep, and again he left his uncle’s house to walk in the cool night air to clear his head.

The air was fresh and crisp, with a light breeze that ruffled Douglas’ hair as he walked again up the hill. The sky was clear, and covered with a multitude of stars, and the moon provided a dim light by which Douglas could make out the ground he walked. Once he reached the top of the hill, he lay down on the ground and allowed himself to become consumed with thought.

“Douglas, why are you lying on the ground?”
Douglas sat up to see Thomas crouched on the ground beside him. “I was having trouble sleeping again. I thought that if I left my room to watch the stars, it would help.”
“I was thinking something similar myself – there is nothing like the cover of stars for silent reflection.”
“What troubles you, Thomas? Was it something I said?” Douglas found himself feeling unusually anxious at the thought.
“It wasn’t necessarily something you said, but something about you got me thinking.” He looked briefly at Douglas before continuing. “It was what you said about not being ashamed of myself, and it got me thinking about how I should be truer to myself, even if it frightens me.” He gazed into the stars as he continued. “I also wondered what you meant when you said that you were conflicted internally – because I know what I struggle with, and I… well I, I suppose I hoped that we struggled with the same affliction.” Thomas had been looking at the ground as he spoke, but as he finished, he looked so earnestly at Douglas that it rendered him speechless for a few moments.
“What is it that afflicts you?” Douglas asked, after a pause.
“I hear men talk of their feelings for the fairer sex, but I do not understand them. They speak of such feelings as I have never felt for a woman. I thought at first that I must have misunderstood them, but then I realised why I did not feel those feelings for women.” Thomas paused, uncertain. He had not been acquainted with Douglas for long and feared that he was telling him too much. Douglas was in a state of inner turmoil; the words Thomas had spoken seemed to touch him deep inside and explain the cause of his confusion.
“I think I understand you,” Douglas replied quietly, after a silence of a few moments. “You have explained my affliction in better words than I could myself. Neither did I understand such expressions as I heard spoke of women, but I believe I understand them now. I may not have those feelings for women, but I…” Douglas stopped speaking, hoping that Thomas would understand.
“I feel them… for men.” Thomas said quietly, placing a hand atop Douglas’ in the hope that he would take it.
“I feel them for you.” Douglas replied in a scarcely audible whisper, taking Thomas’ hand in his own.
Thomas looked at Douglas with the same earnest gaze he had given at the function that evening, and Douglas realised what the other emotion he expressed was: longing. He gazed back into Thomas’ eyes, feelings as though he could stare into them forever.

Douglas returned to his uncle’s house feeling elated and fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. He dreamt wonderful dreams, full of Thomas; Thomas’ face, Thomas’ voice, and Thomas’ hand; and awoke feeling refreshed. After breakfast, however, a more melancholy thought came to him – while he knew that Thomas felt the same way as him, he knew nothing of his family or home, and therefore he knew not when next they would meet; their meeting on the hill had been entirely accidental, and Douglas knew that constant midnight rendezvous in the open air would be an unsustainable means to continue an acquaintance. Douglas began to feel melancholy again but managed to conceal his depressed spirits from the other inhabitants of the house. He knew not how he would explain their origin if he were asked, as he knew that Thomas wished to keep his attractions a secret. His emotions naturally drove him to seek solace atop the hill as before, but a driving rain set in before he could consider searching for his overcoat, and he found himself trapped indoors, playing card games with his uncle to help pass the time.

The rain continued in fits and starts for several days, and Douglas began to despair that he would never be able to meet with Thomas again. His uncle attended a few social functions to which Douglas was not invited to join, at which he was almost certain Thomas would be found, wondering why Douglas was not there and thinking that the feelings he had professed had been false. The thought of Thomas believing that he had lied caused Douglas great emotional pain, and he cried himself to sleep on a few occasions as he dwelt upon this possibility.

It was many weeks before Douglas joined his uncle at another function. The reason Mr Llewellyn had not brought him to another earlier, aside from the intimate nature of the gatherings, was the he had noticed the depression of Douglas’ feelings after one of them, and thought it best to avoid bringing him to another if they did so little to raise his spirits; the sustained misery which followed this decision led Mr Llewellyn to believe that he had been mistaken, and that the source of his low spirits must have been unconnected with his integration in society.

Douglas entered the building full of hopes that he would see Thomas again, and while the crowd made it difficult for him to discern everyone in attendance, he knew that the large number of people increased the likelihood of Thomas being present. He walked through the bustle of people, offending many men of consequence by ignoring their presence entirely, his eyes darting around the room as he sought out Thomas. The more his eyes discerned strange faces, the more anxious he became, and he began to realise that Thomas was not present at the function. As he did not know his last name, it was impossible for him to make any enquiries to the other guests, a thought which troubled him, as he realised that if they knew each other’s full title it would have been easier for them to seek each other out. Douglas regretted that he had spent the entirety of their discourse sharing intimate feelings with each other before they were certain of a second interview. He fought to appear in spirits, and in the carriage ride home, told his uncle of his hopes that he would be able to join him at another event. Mr Llewellyn was somewhat surprised at this admission, as he had observed his nephew’s increasing dejection of spirits as the night progressed, but decided that Douglas knew best what caused his misery, and chose to allow him to join him on the next possible occasion.

The weather was dry that night, if cold, so Douglas set out for another solitary walk around the hills, with the hope that he would encounter Thomas as he walked. His hopes seemed to be futile at first, as he saw no other figure, but the sky was dark, and it was difficult to discern whether another person walked near him or not. As he reached the crest of the hill, he thought he could discern the sound of someone crying. His heart began to race as he approached the sound, but as he heard the sound getting louder and louder, the moon broke between two clouds, and he discerned a figure quite different to that of Thomas’. His first reaction when he realised his mistake was to walk as quickly away from the stranger as possible, but his steps had been far from silent and the other person clearly indicated that they had heard his approach by standing up and calling him over to speak to them.
“Who are you?” Douglas asked, uncertainly.
“Who I am is of no consequence,” the voice replied. It sounded like a man’s voice. “May I ask your name?”
“I am Douglas Davis,” Douglas replied. “May I ask your name?”
“Douglas?” the voice asked. “I am your uncle, Mr Llewellyn.”
“Why are you crying, uncle?” Douglas asked, surprised at the identity of the man on the hill. “What troubles you enough to leave your bed in the middle of the night?”
“You do my child. I can tell you are miserable, and it upsets me to see you like this, as I wish so much for you to be happy. It must be so hard for you to live with me, instead of my sister, and I know the sight of me brings you pain. I have no children of my own, but you have been like a son to me, which is why I feel so dejected at the thought of you being so melancholy. Why have you sought solace in these hills?”
Douglas was unsure whether he should tell his uncle the truth but did not wish to pain him further by making him think that he had neglected him in some way. After thinking for a short while, he said quietly “I think I have fallen in love, but I have not seen the object of my affections for some weeks now, and it makes me melancholy to think that we should never meet again.”
“You have fallen in love?” Mr Lewellyn seemed surprised. “I suppose her family do not approve… you have not met her family? Unless…” Mr Llewellyn had been studying Douglas’ face in the moonlight to read his reaction. “The object of your affections is not a young lady, is that not the case? That would explain your extreme dejection of spirits. And he does not feel the same way?”
“It’s more complicated than that, uncle,” Douglas replied in a small voice. “My affections are returned, but I know nothing of his family or where he lives, and fear that we may never meet again. That is why I was so eager to join you.”
“I suppose your lack of spirits tonight is a result of his absence. I apologise for not including you in more of my gatherings – I thought it was for the best. May I ask the name of the object of your affections – I may be of some help in identifying his family.”
“If you don’t mind, uncle, I think he would rather I preserve his anonymity. An enquiry of this kind may expose him to society, and I think he would much rather the truth of his attractions remain private.”
“I understand. This is a delicate business, nephew. Your secret is safe with me.”
“You seem to know a great deal about this subject, uncle.”
“You are correct. I was in a similar situation when I was young. However, he never showed any sign that he returned my affections, and we parted ways without me ever gaining the confidence to tell him how I truly felt about him. Perhaps it was for the best – although I do hope that your case has a happier outcome.”
“It seems unlikely, uncle.”
Mr Llewellyn paused thoughtfully for a moment. “It is a very cold night. Perhaps we would be better going inside.”
Douglas agreed with his uncle, and the two of them returned to the house and, after a short conversation in the hallway, retired to their beds.

Douglas found himself growing fonder of his uncle after their hilltop conversation, and he began to voluntarily spend more time with Mr Llewellyn, when in the past he had avoided him as he reminded him too much of his father. They never openly spoke of what had happened on the hill, but it seemed to mark the start of a sense of confidence in each other; Douglas enjoyed the conversations he had with his uncle.

At the close of the next week, Douglas and his uncle were both invited to another gathering, some distance from their house. Douglas and his uncle rode the carriage there in silence, but it was a silence of friendship. When they arrived, Douglas quickly examined the room, but saw no sign of Thomas. Hoping that he would encounter him later, he sat on a chair by the fire, waiting to see who would join him. After a few minutes, he was joined by a gentleman but, to his disappointment, it was not Thomas. This man seemed agreeable, but he lacked Thomas’ openness; Douglas tried to make himself engaging to the stranger, so he would not enquire after his peculiar manner, but the stranger soon left him to acquaint himself with the others at the gathering.
“I see you are not struggling to make friends.” Said a voice from behind Douglas.
“Quite the opposite, I am afraid,” Douglas replied, turning around to see who it was that spoke to him. “Thomas! I thought it might have been my uncle who spoke to me.”
“I wish it were.” Thomas seemed melancholy of spirit. “We cannot be seen discussing in such a familiar way as we did before. My father observed us last time, and if he were to suspect how I felt for you, he would do everything in his power to separate us.”
“Where can we speak, then?” Douglas asked in a low voice. “I cannot bear the thought of not knowing when we shall next meet. At least let me know your full name – I am Douglas Davis, and I live with my uncle, Mr Llewellyn.”
“Thomas Jones,” Thomas whispered, trying to look as though he were not discussing with Douglas as he feared his father might be watching. “My father is a Baron, and as his only son I stand to inherit all his title and wealth upon his death. I do not wish his death, however, only that he may accept me for who I am. Does your uncle know of our attachment?”
“He knows a little, but I took care not to mention your name. He seemed to understand my feelings though – we may be able to trust him with our secret.”
“That’s as may be,” Thomas said, hurriedly. “But there are many others here who cannot, and I fear that we may have been speaking for too long. If you wish to continue this discussion, join me atop the hill tonight.”
“I shall.” Douglas replied quietly, leaving his seat, and making his way to another part of the room, where he began to speak in a distracted manner to a stranger of the weather.

Douglas’ heart was aflutter as he snuck out of the house that night and made his way up the hill. He waited, breath bated, for a few minutes, when he felt the pressure of a hand on his shoulder. Turning around, he recognised Thomas. “What is it that you wish to say to me, Thomas?” he asked.
“It is gloomy news, I am afraid,” Thomas answered. “My father suspects what we are to each other and has done his best to prevent me from attending any function where our paths may cross, which is why I was not able to meet with you before today. I only managed to attend tonight because the host was a man of great influence who would be deeply offended by my father’s absence. If my father continues to act in this manner, I am afraid that we will never see each other again, or at least not for many years.” Thomas paused, as tears began to fill his eyes. “I am so sorry, Douglas, but I have no kind uncles who can take me in. Until my father dies, I am entirely under his protection and must do as he wishes, no matter how unreasonable his requests may be. It is such a shame that we are to be separated upon such a short acquaintance, but my only options are this or destitution. I wish it were any other way, Douglas, I really do, for even on such a short acquaintance as we have shared, I believe that I have begun to fall in love with you.”
“It cannot be this way,” Douglas replied, barely attempting to disguise his own tears. “I cannot bear a separation from you, Thomas. I wish you had courage to defy your father – I am sure my uncle would be kind enough to let you stay under his roof, no matter the scandal it would occasion. I would suffer anything other than indefinite estrangement from you, Thomas. Please, let me at least give you my direction, if you change you mind, and give me yours, that I may write to you on occasion. I shall write under a false name and disguise my hand, if it would help protect you against your father.”
“Your determination makes me ashamed of my own weakness,” Thomas said, sadly. “I fear that even such measures as you have thought of would not protect me from my father, but I shall give you my address any way, and you can give me yours, that I may write to you, should my father ever experience a change of heart.”
“It is such a shame that these are the terms on which we part,” Douglas replied, through tears. “From the meetings we have shared, I have found myself falling in love with you. I shall try to seek comfort in the thought that you will contact me when you can, but I wish that your circumstances were different, that we may meet each other whenever we chose.”
Douglas and Thomas each handed the other a note which contained their address and tried to speak a tearful farewell. The moon shone through a gap in the clouds, shedding light on the gloomy scene. The air around them was still – they were alone. Douglas could feel his heart breaking as his lips met Thomas’ in a kiss.

Despite his misery, Douglas slept soundly that night and awoke feeling dejected. The extremity of his misery which he had experienced when he first heard that Thomas would no longer be able to speak to him was gone, but the situation still seemed hopeless to him; he hoped that it would, in the future, not occupy his every thought, but for the present he couldn’t help feeling miserable at the thought of an indefinite separation from Thomas. His uncle seemed to notice his dejection at breakfast and said, “I presume your interview last night was unfavourable.”
“How do you know?” Douglas asked. “Did you follow me?”
“I am a light sleeper – I heard you leave this house last night and assumed that it must have been a meeting with the person we spoke of previously. From your lack of spirits this morning, I guessed it must have been an unhappy meeting.”
“You are correct in your assumptions, uncle,” Douglas replied, then added, in a softer voice, “His father does not approve of the connection, and is doing all within his power to separate us.”
“It is difficult whenever a separation occurs,” Mr Lewellyn said. “But I believe it is worse when it comes as a consequence of a third person. Knowing that, had it not been for their interference, you would have been able to live happily together. I shall try not to mention it too much, Douglas, but just know that I am here to support you if you need it.”
“Thank you, uncle,” Douglas replied, tears flooding his eyes. “I hope in the future that we will be able to meet again, without anyone trying to separate us.”
Mr Llewellyn agreed with Douglas, and they finished breakfast in silence.

Douglas felt his spirits begin to return to him as the weeks passed – his growing relationship with his uncle, while not a replacement for what he shared with Thomas, gave him something to distract his heart from its misery. He attended many functions with his uncle, but Thomas was never present at them. He had no cause to hope that Thomas would be present, but a part of him still longed for another accidental meeting. There were many people to meet at these functions, and he hoped that he would be able to make friends with at least one of them, but none of them seemed to have anything in common with him. His main source of friendship, aside from his uncle, came from the servants, especially Mildred, who mostly shunned the company of others, but seemed to enjoy spending time with Douglas. As the weeks turned into months, Douglas saw the mother and father he had been deprived of return in the shape of Mr Llewellyn and Mildred. He still cried at night over Thomas, but such nights of misery became less and less frequent as time elapsed. He knew that, should he encounter Thomas again, all his prior affection for him would return, but the absence of communication prevented constant melancholy musings.

One evening, as he was thinking about the events of a party which he had attended with his uncle, his recollections were interrupted by a knock at the door, and Mildred entered.
“Good evening Douglas. I hope you are well.”
“I am well indeed, Mildred. What brings you here?”
“I have a note to deliver to you, but in truth, I wish to discuss something of a personal nature with you.”
“Leave the note on the table – I can read it later. What is it you wish to discuss?”
“I am to understand that, upon your uncle’s death, you are to inherit his estate.”
“I have heard nothing on this matter, but, as his sole ward, it seems natural that I would.”
“I heard this from your uncle himself and, as gloomy a subject it is to discuss, I have a few requests to make of you, which you are only to act upon should your uncle die.”
“Go ahead.”
“I am not a young woman, and as much as I have enjoyed working for your uncle, I hope that I will be able to retire to a solitary location in the future, where I can spend the rest of my days in relative silence. Your company has been a comfort to me, and I would not mind you paying visits, but I desire independence.”
“I am sure that I would be delighted to fulfil this request, should it ever be necessary, but I do not understand why you feel it necessary to discuss this matter with me now.”
“Your uncle has confided in me, and today he gave consent to share with you the following information: he has not enjoyed the best of health for some time now, and it is the opinion of his physician that he will not live for many more years. You need not worry that his demise will occur too shortly, but I thought it would be important to inform you that his presence is not as reliable as perhaps we hoped.”
Douglas was shocked by this communication and remained in silence as Mildred left him to his contemplations. He had never received as much as a hint from his uncle that he was in anything other than the best of health and he felt ashamed that his uncle knew him so well as to tell his thoughts at a single look, while he could not even discern that something as significant as this had been troubling him for so long. Before these thoughts could consume him entirely, however, he remembered that Mildred had left a note for him.

Upon opening the note, he discovered it to be from Thomas, and his heart began to pound.
“My dearest Douglas,” it began. “I have thought of you many times over the past months, and I wished I were able to communicate with you how I truly felt, but fear of detection prevented me. My spirits have been depressed for some time and my father, guessing the cause to be improper, began to become violent, but I shall not dwell too long on my sufferings, as I do not wish you to become unhappy on my account. I am writing to you now as I have information of some interest to disclose – my father’s health has taken a sudden turn for the worse, and it is now believed that he will not survive for much longer. Furthermore, after making discrete enquiries into your family, I have cause to believe that your father may have passed away, but these are only rumours; do not believe them unless you have heard of this from another. I only write to share this so that I can hear the full truth from someone more closely involved in the business so that I may be able to confirm or deny this information when I hear it. I hope that you are well and bearing my absence as best you can.
Yours ever, Thomas.”
Who could describe Douglas’ feelings upon reading this letter? He felt such a mixture of surprise, sadness, hope, and happiness as he thought impossible for a person to feel at once. His first thought was to enquire after his father, but he was uncertain that a letter addressed to his parents would ever receive a response. He was also troubled to hear what Thomas had been suffering on his account, as the handwriting seemed untidier than it had been when writing his direction, as though he were suffering a great deal. The flood of thoughts which came over him as he contemplated all he had heard and read began to overwhelm him and he began to cry.

His weeping was interrupted by the entrance of Mr Llewellyn.
“I am to believe that Mildred has told you the gloomy news,” Mr Llewellyn said, upon seeing Douglas’ tears. “I was afraid to tell you of my ailing health while your spirits were so dejected, but as time passed, the necessity of full disclosure became more apparent. I wish that I were to not leave you, but we cannot escape death, Douglas.”
Douglas looked at the concerned face of his uncle and another wave of tears consumed him. Mr Llewelyn looked at him with concern, then saw that Douglas held a letter in his hand. “I see that you have received correspondence, my child. If I had known this were to happen, I would have delayed my gloomy communication for another day.” He paused and placed a comforting hand on Douglas’ shoulder. “Does it bear more bad news?”
“No news I have received has been more miserable than that of your imminent death,” Douglas replied. “But this letter contains such reports as would have overwhelmed me had I not just heard of the illness of my protector.” A thought came to him. “Have you heard any news of my father? This letter speaks of rumours regarding him and I must know whether they are to be trusted.”
“I shall write to my sister, and imply that I have heard such tales of his behaviour that would shock her terribly – I believe that is the only way I will be able to glean the truth from her about anything, as she would never dare communicate anything to me unless she believed she had something to gain from it.” Mr Llewellyn made to leave the room but, upon seeing Douglas’ expression, said, “Did the letter have anything else of importance to disclose – a rumour about your father seems like an odd reason to write to somebody.”
“His own father’s health is failing,” Douglas replied bluntly. “He wrote to tell of his father’s death and the hope it would give us. His father has not been good to him, but it is still a shame for a man to lose a life, especially when the death only brings happiness to others.”
“I hope that you do not mourn me too much, nephew,” Mr Llewellyn replied thoughtfully. “As much as I have enjoyed looking after you this past year, I wish for you to be independent in your adulthood and not feel the impact of my absence too greatly; I do not wish you to suffer, Douglas.”
“I shall miss you dearly, uncle,” Douglas said, wiping away his tears. “You have been like a father to me. I may cope on my own, but I would much rather have your guidance.”
“Life is full of disappointments, my child.” Mr Llewellyn replied sadly, and left Douglas to his contemplations.

It took Douglas a few days to process what he had learned properly, and the thought of his uncle’s death continued to torment him, but the thought that he might soon be able to meet Thomas again gave him hope. His uncle soon received a letter from his mother, and to his surprise it contained news of his death. Douglas didn’t know what to think when he heard that his father had died, and when he received word himself from his solicitor saying that he had inherited the family home, his mind was in confusion. As requested, he wrote to Thomas to tell the news, but he knew nothing of who would be able to access the letter, he tried to limit the affectionate address which his heart longed to convey, while still assuring Thomas that his affections had not cooled. He was in such a confusion of spirits as he penned the letter, that when he gave it to Mildred to take to the post, he could barely recall what he had written.

The letter reached Thomas in a state of confusion. His father’s health had been declining rapidly, but there were still occasions on which he gained enough strength to abuse Thomas, and he feared that the receipt of such a letter would invite more violence from the Baron. He need not have worried too greatly, for when he opened the letter, he saw it to speak Douglas’ affection in ways only he could understand.
“My dear Thomas,” it began. “Forgive me for taking so long to reply to your letter. I was upset when I heard the distressing news with respect to your esteemed father and did not wish my writing to seem insensitive. I have received word from my mother confirming that what you heard of my father is true, but what distresses me more I cannot tell, as my uncle does not wish the truth to be made public. I hope that you shall not suffer your torment for too long. Yours, Douglas.”
It was only a short note, but Thomas took great comfort from it; he wished to be able to reply but knew that if he wrote too frequently to Douglas it would only draw suspicion. A part of him longed to keep the note close to his heart, but he decided to content himself with merely locking it in his writing desk and keeping the key close to him at all times. His heart felt heavy as he turned the key in the lock, sealing away Douglas’ words, but his mind was quickly pulled away by a voice. “Thomas!” he heard his father shout from the doorway. “What are you doing, boy?”
Thomas looked up in surprise to see his father standing on his own, although he did appear to be leaning on the doorframe for support. “I was merely locking my writing desk, sir,” Thomas replied, with as much confidence as he could muster. “The servants are prone to search through it, so I have got in the habit of keeping it locked.”
“Don’t lie to me boy!” the Baron shouted, slapping Thomas’ face as hard as he could. “I cannot have a liar for a son!”
Thomas could feel his eyes prick with tears but did his best to hide them from his father. “You lie, sir,” he replied quietly. “You tell others that you treat me with kid gloves, that I keep to my room due to my own ill health. You told mother you would care for me when she died. Those are all lies, sir.”
The Baron struck Thomas again. “Don’t call me a liar, boy,” he shouted, leaning against the wall for strength. “I am your father; I deserve some respect. Will you continue to torment a dying man with your words in this way? You are no son of mine.”
Thomas could taste his blood in his mouth. “If you have strength enough to hit your own son, you have strength enough to bear my words,” he replied quietly. “A man who uses his dying strength to abuse his own kin deserves no respect. If you continue to treat me this way, I shall have no choice but to retaliate.”
“Stop it, boy!” the Baron shouted. Thomas looked up, and saw his father collapse onto the floor, writhing in pain.

Douglas struggled to come to terms with the demise of his father and his new role as the head of his family, especially as he had not spoken to his family in over a year. He wrote to his mother, asking whether they desired to remain living in the house, and he received a strongly worded note from her explaining that they had all moved into the house of a sister of his who had married well and they wanted nothing to do with him or anything he owned. Her words upset Douglas, but he decided that he would use the opportunity to sell his house, with the intention of buying somewhere within his means to live in after his uncle died.

The business of selling his old family home occupied much of Douglas’ time, far more than he expected, leaving him with little time to reflect on the other news which had distressed him. It was of great surprise to him, therefore, when he received another note from Thomas, as he had not been expecting one. “My dearest Douglas,” it read. “I wish this news were more distressing to me, but it is without any sense of grief that I write to inform you that my father has died. His behaviour towards me was cruel to the end, and I believe it was the unnecessary exertion of abusing me which sped up his death. No one else has spoken to support my idea, but that is because my father kept the extent of his cruelty secret, telling everyone that I was keeping to my room with an affliction of my own. His very last words to me were abusive in nature and it distresses me greatly that I never enjoyed the comfort of a father’s unconditional love. However, I shall dwell no more on my misery, as the source of my suffering is no more, and I have inherited his land and title. Of my remaining family, I have only two sisters, who are cared for, which leaves me independent and free. I hope that I shall meet you soon, my love, as our time together has been painfully short. All my love and best wishes, Baron Thomas.”
While he could share in Thomas’ wishes for a more affectionate father whom he could grieve, Douglas’ heart was occupied with the thought that he would finally be able to arrange a meeting with Thomas, and that thought transcended all others. He wrote back immediately to express his sympathy and enquire as to whether Thomas would also be present at a gathering Douglas would be attending with his uncle. He received a reply in the affirmative after a few days and spent the remaining days before the gathering in a state of excited anticipation.

The day of the event arrived, and Douglas entered the building with his uncle, in a state of extreme anxiety. He hardly knew what he was doing, as he found a seat and waited upon it for a chance to see Thomas. To his delight, Thomas joined him shortly. "Douglas," he began. "It has been so long since we last met." "Indeed, Thomas," Douglas replied, trying to not cry at the thought of the separation and what had caused it. "A great deal has happened since we last met." "We are now both orphans." "My mother is still alive," Douglas said. "But, as far as I am concerned, they both died many years ago." "It is hard having a parent who is both dead and very much alive." "I am sure that, as far as my mother is concerned, I am likewise deceased. The estrangement has been difficult to come to terms with, but with time I am sure I will learn." "My mother died when I was very young, so I have no notion of how her treatment of me would compare with others. I like to fancy that she would have loved me unconditionally, and protected me against my father." "Sometimes I wish that my mother were dead, because then I could comfort myself with warm memories from childhood rather than the coldness of reality." The two remained in contemplative silence, before Thomas said "this is gloomy talk for our reunion. Perhaps we should change our topic to dwell upon happier things." They were able to spend an evening of unalloyed enjoyment with each other; the public nature of the gathering may have meant that they could not speak in open terms of their affection, but they did not care as they found they were able to discuss any subject matter and still take delight in it. At one point half-way through the evening, Thomas remarked, “There are so many people engaging in tete-a-tete that we can continue our discussion for much of the night without arousing suspicion.”
“Why are you so afraid of arousing suspicion?” Douglas asked. “You are an independent young man who may do as he wishes. I have heard of men in your situation who have done far worse without permanently ruining their reputation. I understand your desire for secrecy while you were under your father’s care, but now you may live as you choose.”
“I have not known you long,” Thomas answered. “But what I have seen of you has set you in my estimation as the most wonderful man of my acquaintance, and it is my wish for everyone to see you as I see you. I suffered greatly at the hands of my father, and I do not wish you to endure what I have endured for your sake. Have you not already been disowned by your family, and had to endure the torment of not knowing why your father suddenly ceased his affectionate treatment? We are but young, and this attachment may end as a result of something yet undisclosed by either of us. I would not wish you to be unable to form a second attachment as a result of any scandal we may cause. People who suffer the torment I endured under my father would be unable to associate with you if we made our relationship public. I am making this decision to protect you.”
“I wish you could see this as I see it,” Douglas replied. “I see us as protecting those in your situation by showing them that they need not be ashamed.”
“How will they hear of us? I could barely send a letter out to you while under the protection of my father. Great as have been your sufferings, you have yet had more chances to escape them than I. Those who are wholly dependent on a tyrant will surely struggle to hear of those who live a free and independent life that they will never see.”
“We shall never convince each other on this matter,” Douglas sighed. “For each of us is making valid points drawn from our own experiences – I struggled, for I did not know who I was, you struggled because you were not allowed to be yourself. I think it best if we drop the matter entirely before someone overhears us and makes everything public without our control.”
“I agree.” Thomas replied, and they began to talk of something else.

Thomas and Douglas spent the next months building an acquaintance at public gatherings and exchanging letters. During this time, however, Douglas began to notice that his uncle’s health began to fail considerably, and he found himself attending less and less gatherings as he remained at home to care for his uncle. As more and more of his time became dedicated to Mr Llewellyn, he began to struggle to find time to even keep up with his correspondence with Thomas; each time he wrote was after a longer interval than the last, and began with an apology, because he was so overwhelmed with the rapidly declining health of his uncle. Thomas seemed to understand, but Douglas wished that he had the confidence to pay him a visit so that he could provide him with support.

By the end of the year Mr Llewellyn was dead.

“I believe it has been a year since we last met, Douglas,” Thomas remarked. “You have been very busy, have you not?”
“There was much business to complete after my uncle died,” Douglas explained. “I had to find new situations for all the servants, purchase a new house and find someone to buy my uncle’s; and all this while grieving for the loss of my guardian. I spent the latter part of the year trying to recover my spirits, as it had been a real drain on me both physically and emotionally. Seeing you has been a great comfort to me. I wish we had been able to meet sooner.”
“As do I. I have missed you most terribly. I hope we never endure another separation this prolonged.”
“How have you been keeping this past year, Thomas?”
“As well as I was able in my situation. You will be glad to hear that my nightmares have finally subsided.”
“That is good news, Thomas. I am glad to hear that you are starting to recover after your father’s death.”
“As am I, dear Douglas, as am I. I can finally bear to hear myself addressed by my full title – I cannot recall whether I mentioned it was difficult for me at first, as I had been so used to hearing it applied to my father.” He paused in thought. “How much time do you have available for these functions? I long to hear that we may meet again soon.”
“I am afraid that I have to set my house in order and that will occupy much of my time for the next few weeks. If you are not too afraid of the scandal that may occur, you could visit me in the area – I believe that it is not too far away from your home.”
“That will be delightful,” Thomas replied, smiling. “I hope to see you again by the end of the month.”

Both Douglas and Thomas, however, found that they had much more to occupy their time than anticipated, and they agreed to postpone their meeting until Thomas’ time was less engaged and he would be able to pay Douglas a visit; after struggling for some weeks to make his house inhabitable, Douglas finally decided that it would simply be easier for him to pay Thomas a visit when his house began to resemble some kind of order.

As well as trying his hardest to arrange his house, Douglas would also pay occasional visits to Mildred, to see how she settled into her house. Sometimes she would give him news, but as she was very isolated from society, she learnt very little; such was her intention by removing to such an isolated cottage. Mildred did, however, accommodate a young couple who were fleeing an oppressive household, and she sent word to Douglas to keep an eye out for them – she liked the couple and wanted Douglas to do what was in his power to keep them safe.

Douglas kept his word to Mildred by making a tour of the village’s boarding houses whenever he sought a reprise from his work. He soon encountered them and offered his house to them. While they seemed suspicious of such an offer from a stranger, he persuaded them to accept it on the condition that they would help him arrange his household. When he understood that they intended to move on after a few days, he sent word of their arrival to Thomas, in the hopes that he would aid them until they could become fully independent.

The work of the two young women sped up Douglas’ work massively and, shortly after their departure, he found that he was available to pay Thomas the promised visit. His heart was aflutter at the thought, as it had been over a month since their last meeting. After thinking for a moment, he thought it would be best to send word to the young ladies of his intended visit to the village.

His first few hours with Thomas were full of affectionate discussion, and they were so absorbed with each other that they did not notice the arrival of the two young ladies for several minutes. However, they were glad to welcome them to Thomas’ home, and Douglas was especially pleased to be able to set an example to other young couples, as he had been trying to persuade Thomas would be beneficial. One of them, however, confessed something which shocked Douglas greatly. “Perhaps you are not aware of the relationship between the Baron Thomas Jones and me,” she began. “Which may have the possibility to make the situation somewhat awkward.”
Douglas was surprised “What, you have already met this young woman before, my love?” He asked Thomas. “You didn’t tell me this.”
Thomas explained that he had made an offer of marriage through her uncle in an attempt to release her from his influence. Douglas sighed fondly. “My foolish Thomas – did you not see that he would use it as further means of separating them?” he asked, shaking his head at Thomas’ lack of understanding in the situation. “Elizabeth could hardly be aware of your true intentions if you never met her.”
“In truth, I acted rashly – especially as I intended to provide a similar protection for ourselves through this union.”
“Thomas – you know I said that I don’t want your protection. Why would I care if the whole world knew about us? In fact – let them know. I wouldn’t care if it were announced to everyone individually in the plainest terms. We are what we are to each other, and no one can stop that.”
Thomas looked furtively at the women. “I begin to understand, and perhaps it is time for us to do that,” he said quietly in Douglas’ ear. “Especially if we are to accommodate these young women.”
Douglas smiled to hear Thomas make such a profession; he could see his father’s influence on Thomas’ actions had really begun to wane and was proud of his growing confidence. After a short discussion with the young ladies, they showed them to their rooms and retired to Thomas’ room, where they continued in their private conversation.
“I cannot believe you sometimes, Thomas,” Douglas said fondly. “How could you believe that an offer of marriage to a stranger would be seen by her as a means of liberty?”
“I had heard such unfavourable reports of her guardian,” Thomas explained. “That I felt it my duty to do what was in my power to help them. I may not have thought the situation through clearly, but in the rumours, I could not help recalling the treatment I received at the hands of my father; I would not wish that upon anyone. While I was living with my father, I believe I would have taken any opportunity which would have released me from him, even marriage to a stranger.”
“I wish you had not suffered so much on my account,” Douglas said sadly, gently caressing Thomas’ face. “If you had taken up my offer to stay in my uncle’s house…”
“It is all nothing now,” Thomas interrupted. “We are together now, and that is all that matters.”
“This talk of marriage has me thinking – what is there to stop us from approaching our own relationship as a marriage? It may be best for us to wait a short time, but I do not think it possible for me to love anyone more than I love you.”
“I feel very much the same way. A short wait may be prudent, for we have not yet spent any prolonged period of time in each other’s company, but if, after a few weeks, we feel the same on this matter, I do not see why we cannot begin to think of each other as husbands.”
“I am sure that I will be able to wait for a few weeks – I managed to endure your absence for a year not that long ago, so I should be able to live in your presence with great happiness.”
“You are too kind, Douglas, too kind.”
Douglas kissed Thomas fondly, then they left to check in on their guests.

Much occurred in the future months to increase their happiness, including accidentally reuniting one of their guests with her long-lost mother, and they began to look at the future as something which would only provide happiness to them as long as they remained united. After several years, however, the death of an uncle led their guests to remove to their old home, and Douglas and Thomas eventually agreed that they would each sell their homes and move to a house at an easy distance to allow frequent visits to their friends. Upon this, their joy was complete, and they began to forget that they had ever suffered.