My Home From Home (ManxMan)

Chapter 19

6 November 1920

Dear Diary,

Normally if someone were to tell me I reminded them of their father, I'd be terribly offended; but in this case I daresay I wasn't. From what I hear Lord Robert Wilson was rather young and dashing when he eloped to Gretna Green with his Mama's housemaid, so bearing that in mind I shall take that as rather a complement. They were both only eighteen years of age. Papa missed him terribly, and they all but lost contact when Papa disappointed Lord Robert by taking the Duke of Bedford's side; though Papa never told me the full story, from what I understand Papa saw the Lord Robert's love as being a mere 'affair' even going far enough to say that Lord Robert could have both should he marry a well born girl form a well to do family whilst keeping the young maid as a 'mistress'. This in turn ended in quite the row; with Papa taking a punch to the jaw as Mama always cheekily recounted the story to us all, much to Papa's disgruntlement; and I daresay though Papa will always be my Papa, Lord Robert was in the right in this situation.

All that aside, I can't help but feel this uncertainty brewing deep within my soul as to what exactly thomas meant by that. The way I talk, the way I do things?! What the devil was that supposed to mean!? How on earth could he make the connection between a high born son of a duke with ME?! Who... Also is a high born son of a duke. Oh heavens, could it be that he might be on to my charade. I don't see how, I mention being common and working class whenever I see fit. Sure I never bothered to change my accent or anything, but surely that can't have given me away, could it? To be fair, perhaps I ought to have done more research on common people before pretending to be one.

Now all I can do is live with the utter, gutwernching torture that is having to both fear Thomas and be unnaturally infatuated with him. And whilst I should be over the moon having felt his embrace, been warmed by his muscle-bound body of a Greek god, feeling his scent take over my mind; all one can think about is him finding out the truth about me. One whole week I've lived with this torment of wondering when he'd come straight out and tell me he knew I was lying; so I've been so terribly careful what I say, careful what I do, relaying the framework of my false backstory being the ordinary country doctor from modest, humble backgrounds. All I can do at this point is pray that the truth doesn't come out; for I fear not only for losing a friend, the last thing I need is to make an enemy.

Love, Henry

Henry grabbed his coat and slipped out into the corridor, sauntering down the stairs and towards the kitchen where Thomas and the boys would likely be at this hour of the morning. Henry figured it best to offer his assistance with breakfast; he felt like that was what a small town, modest, young country doctor would do in such a situation.

"Good morning!" Sang Henry as he walked into the kitchen and greeted Thomas with a nod, ruffling Danny's hair playfully and making his way over to the pram next to Thomas to plant a chaste kiss on little Alfie's head. The handsome Constable couldn't help but smile at how good Henry seemed to be with the boys; Danny practically worshiped 'Henwy' and on nights Alfie was fussy even his own Dad couldn't seem to get him to settle down. But Henry always managed to put Alfie at ease within seconds of holding him.

"Morning." Thomas nodded back as he continue chopping up some of the leftover vegetables from the previous night's roast.

"Right, what's for breakfast, and how can I help?" Henry asked cheerily, almost too cheerily to the point where it felt as though he were overcompensating; likely because he was.

"Bubble and squeak." Thomas said as he put slid his finger down the flat sides of the knife to clear off the remnants of cabbage that adhered to the sides of the blade. "You could peel and chop the onion, if you'd like." Thomas offered, his eyes subtly narrowed towards the blue eyed young lad.