[HP Doujin] 1943

Volume Four: Wind and Rain Road in Homeland

VolumeFour.LastMileHome

1948 ~ 1954

IfanyoneshouldimportunemetogiveareasonwhyIlovedhim,Ifellitcouldnototherwisebeexpressedthanbymakinganswer,'Becauseitwashe;becauseitwasI.'Thereis,beyondwhatIamabletosay,Iknownotthatinexplicableandinevitablepowerthatbroughtonthisunion.

—George Eliot, Daniel Deronda

If anyone has to ask me why I love him, I can only think of one expression: "Because he is him and I am me." It is a force beyond my ability to express, indescribable, irresistible, that unites us in one. Together.

—George Eliot, "Daniel's Half Life" [28]

【28】Excerpt from "Daniel Deronda" (Daniel's half-life fate), George Eliot (written by George Eliot), Wordsworth Editions Limited, UK, 1996. The Chinese part is the translated version of Yueming Heqi.

——————————————————————————————————————

October 1948, Scottish Downs.

In late autumn, the sky is clear.The sky is crisp and blue, and the air is filled with the fragrance of pine needles in the valley.The car was driving on the road, on one side was a vast, golden deciduous forest, and on the other side was a piece of wilderness extending towards a humid valley.On the wasteland, the ferns grow up to waist height, and the ears are already withered and yellow. When the wind blows past, the ferns surge like sea waves, making a gentle rustling sound.

The car made a bend in the small valley, the terrain began to gradually rise, and the wind became stronger and stronger.Not far away, dark red cliffs and reefs stand tall.The sun has slowly set to the west, and the silver-gray bay is shining with a little bit of light under the reflection of the setting sun. The camellias in the valley are blooming, and a large piece of white petals looks extraordinarily beautiful in the sun.

A rush of hoofbeats suddenly broke the quiet air.In a hidden path in the bushes by the roadside, a tall and handsome black thoroughbred horse suddenly dashed out diagonally and ran to the middle of the road in front of the car.

"damn it!"

The driver cursed, slammed the horn, and slammed on the brakes. The wheels made a harsh friction sound under emergency braking.

The black thoroughbred horse was frightened, neighing mournfully, and raised its legs high.On the horseback was a woman in red riding clothes. She screamed, and her hat fell to the ground, and was blown into the wasteland by the wind in an instant.Although the horse had gone mad, she rode well, and she still held the rein firmly on the horse's back, and was not thrown off and broke her neck.

A reddish-brown warm-blood horse followed closely, and a man in a black riding suit and boots jumped off the horse, stabilized the frightened black horse, and helped the woman on the horse to get off the horse.

This woman is tall and slender, she looks extraordinary at first glance, she is not an ordinary person.Although she was frightened, her face was slightly pale, and her bun was disheveled, she still looked calm and composed.She smiled and said something to the man beside her, then turned her head to look at the black car parked on the road, her eyes were as dark blue as the Mediterranean Sea, bright and dazzling.

"How do you drive!" the man yelled rudely at the car, coming over and banging on the driver's side window.

With the sound of hoofbeats, two or three men came running over on horseback.They pulled the reins, turned their heads and saw the black car, and said in surprise, "Isn't this the car from our estate?"

The Stuart family has always acted in a low-key and prudent manner.Although there are several cars in the manor, they are all black German cars.Although this kind of car is very expensive, its appearance is unpretentious, durable, and not ostentatious at all.The man on horseback recognized the license plate of the car in front of him at a glance. This was the special car Francis Stuart himself took.If you don't even have this wink, then don't hang out at Stuart's house.They all knew that the people who came to the manor in Francis' special car were either himself or his wife and children.

The face of the man who was still angry just now became a little embarrassed. He waved his hand at the driver and made an apologetic gesture.The driver didn't roll down the window and ignored his apology.After the horses were led to the side of the road, he restarted the car and drove steadily towards the manor.

I sat on the large handmade leather seat in the back of the car, wearing a white windbreaker, sunglasses, and my hair wrapped in a light yellow silk scarf, without saying a word.

When the car passed by the woman in red, I slightly turned my face to the side and she happened to be looking at me too, with a smile in her bright blue eyes.She is beautiful, about 35 years old, with a calm and indifferent temperament in her eyebrows.

Now is the hunting season, Francis is on vacation in the manor, and has held several social banquets, with an endless stream of guests.Although there were a lot of guests, because everyone was in the same social circle and had met once in various occasions in London, I had the impression of most of them.But this woman is very strange.I searched for her in my mind the rest of the way to the manor, but couldn't remember who she was.

Maybe the new wife of some high-ranking official, I thought.

When they arrived at the black wrought iron gate at the entrance of Stuart's domain, the driver greeted the concierge and drove the car into the driveway of the manor.This driveway is extremely long, and the car takes about half an hour to drive.There are countless white camellias planted behind the hedges and laurel trees. It is the season of blooming, and those white and delicate petals are shining in the setting sun, like a car driving through a snow-white ocean.

Mr. Claude told me that there were not so many flowers in the Stuart Manor in the past. Since the old Mr. Stuart died and Francis inherited the manor, he ordered people to plant flowers in the garden and in the nearby valley. Full of camellias.In recent years, the camellia has almost become the symbol of Stuart Manor. I once saw the postcard collection of the famous British wizard manor from the witch who sold newspapers in Godric’s Hollow. The star card of Stuart Manor There was a picture of a tall Regency castle half hidden in a sea of ​​white camellias.

"This is the most romantic castle in Scotland," the witch told me, eagerly hoping that I would buy this postcard. "I heard that the owner of the manor planted so many camellias in memory of his lover."

If people like Francis knew what romance was, trolls could learn to write love poems too.Knowing that what she said was nonsense, I still bought the postcard, and then I randomly put it in a book, and I don't know where to throw it.Francis told me he planted those flowers because when he was new to the Ministry of Magic, he caught a dark wizard smuggling African voodoo nettle seeds and found his hard-earned two-carriage voodoo nettle The seeds are just plain French camellia seeds.That incident made him feel ashamed. In order to compensate this innocent businessman, he bought two large carts of camellia seeds and scattered them all around the Stuart Manor.He originally thought that these flower seeds would not survive, but he didn't expect that they would bloom all over the mountains and plains the next year.

I remember saying to him, "Actually, I really like camellias."

While looking at an official document sent to him by his assistant, he said casually: "Women like this kind of flower."

When the car drove around the garden to the gate of the mansion, there was already a row of footmen in tuxedos standing in front of the porch with the tall Regency-era stone pillars.The butler opened the door for me, and I got out of the car, pushed my sunglasses onto my hair, smiled slightly, and said in harmony, "Hello, Claude."

He bowed slightly to me, and said politely, "Good day, Mrs. Stuart."

I looked up at the familiar gray building, took off my gloves and scarf, handed them to Claude, and followed the menservants who were carrying my luggage upstairs.

This is the first time I've been back in months.At Northumberland Manor in August, the tango between me and Tom became famous, and those who knew me and those who didn't know me before, all began to talk all kinds of nasty gossip. I was originally in London. A bad reputation has only gotten worse.

By the time I left London after giving birth to live alone in the red brick house in the Yorkshire countryside, news of my separation from Francis had spread throughout London.When I first went to York, Gillian and Becca accompanied me to clean up my room.Gillian and Becca are both good at home spells. They waved their wands casually and said a few skilled spells. They helped me change the wallpaper in the living room and bedroom, and threw all the sheets and quilt covers into the washing machine. Shine the brand new china.

While Becca was cleaning upstairs, Gillian and I hung out the linens in the yard outside the kitchen to dry.We stood next to the laundry basket, using our wands to levitate the sheets into the air.The snow-white sheets fluttered in the sun, exuding the fragrance of soap.We didn't have to worry about a Muggle passing by and accidentally saw this amazing scene, because an apple orchard and a babbling brook separated my house from the Muggle village in the Savannah Valley.It is also far away from the main road, and Muggles in the village will never pass by here.

"We're going to take our first therapist exam next week," said Gillian, and with a wave of her wand, a set of bedspreads rose into the air. "How are you getting ready?"

I shrugged, tilted my head back and shook my head, feeling the warmth of the sun on my face.

"What are you going to do?" Gillian asked, in a practical tone.So many things happened in the past few months, and other St. Mungo's colleagues would talk about it when they saw me, but Jillian was still standing by my side.She is a down-to-earth person, she doesn't like to talk about others, and she doesn't like to listen to rumors from others.She knows something about me, but she never talks nonsense with others.

"I don't know." I said honestly. "Work hard."

Gillian nodded: "Me too, maybe one day I can meet a handsome and rich family member of the patient."

She and I looked at each other and laughed.Only she would joke with me so bluntly, and I wouldn't care.

The therapist exam results came in and, as expected, I failed and Gillian passed.Now I continue to practice in the hospital, while preparing for the main therapist assessment in September next year.

Living in Yorkshire was the most peaceful time of my life.Tom and I write letters every week.I hesitated to go to London to see him, but at the end of September, the Daily Prophet reported that Tom and Adelaide Smith were engaged.

I thought, maybe this engagement news was his signal to me.We've had crazy pasts, but right now, we all have our own lives.I have my husband and children and I have to think about my family's reputation and my children's upbringing.And Tom has his fiancée, he has to think about his career and his future family.Life has made me gradually understand that one minute of passion, the rest is involuntary for a lifetime.

I haven't seen Francis once since August.It was in that year that he left the Department of Transport and started working for the Department of International Magical Cooperation.At the beginning of September, he was nominated by the Minister of Magic as the new director of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Although the nomination will not take effect until after the new year, he has already started handing over work with the outgoing director, and he is very busy.Of course, I read all these news in the newspapers.

He routinely wrote me a letter once a month, sometimes on office stationery, sometimes on Stuart Manor stamped paper.He didn't mention anything about his work and life in the letter. He just told me in a flat tone that Melinda's runes and paintings were constantly improving, that Charles had some minor illnesses occasionally, and that he hadn't learned to speak yet.Charles has a new hobby, that is, every time an adult hugs him, he will snatch the adult's wand, or cry loudly.He once pokes Melinda's favorite block game into a fireball with Francis' wand.Charles couldn't sit on his toy broomstick by himself yet, but he always had his nanny to hold him up as he flew all over the room on the broomstick.

Seeing this, I actually laughed out loud.My son is really a restless bastard, completely inherited the blood of Bradley, not a bit of the Stuart family style.

October came, and I set out for Scotland to fulfill my inescapable duties.Charles and Melinda were sent to town by Francis before hunting season began.He was still angry with me and still insisted on not letting me see the child.

When I arrived at the Manor, I was in the kitchen for a while, and Mr. Crowder, the housekeeper, and Mrs. Jennings, the housekeeper, told me what was planned for the next fortnight—a big dinner party the next night, and a few days after that. A hunt and picnic, a dance and brunch.Mrs. Jennings handed me the guest list and menu for the next night's banquet. I took a quick look and saw the Blacks, the Lestranges, the Rosiers, the Greengrasses, and the Malfoys. , the Randalls, Tony, Mrs. Smith, her niece Adelaide Smith and Tom, the Minister for Magic, the Directors of the Department of Education, the Department of International Magical Cooperation and the Department of Muggle Cooperation are all invited.

I frowned and looked at the list. Only the Stuart Manor could hold such a large banquet that almost included all the important figures in England's magic circle.

I crossed out two cold dishes with a pencil: "Swap the pudding for the French style instead of the raisins. The wife of the Secretary of Education eats only vegetarian food. Instead of the blueberry plum jam, the Minister of Magic uses the same Sturgeon sauce as Frances." Have you chosen all?"

"Mr. Crowder has already selected them a few days ago, and they are all kept in the wine cellar." Mrs. Jennings said.

"I'll go down and have a look." I put down the menu and walked to the cellar.

I've always loved the cellar door at Stuart Manor.Old Mr. Stuart once did the business of the Goblin Winery in France, so he has a good understanding of wine tasting and has collected a large number of priceless famous wines.However, Francis changed hands of all the wineries under Stuart's name long before he married me, and instead invested in mines in South Africa and wizard shipping business in Northern Europe.

Mrs. Jennings gave me the key to the cellar, and I went down the narrow wooden staircase alone.

The wine cellar was extremely quiet, only the slight crackling of candlelight could be heard.Slender white candles burned in brass hanging candlesticks on the wall, and the candle tears gathered at the bottom of the candlesticks like clusters of flowers.The small flame of the candle emits a warm yellow halo, illuminating the rows of oak wine racks and the shiny wine bottles on the racks. There are rows of sealed oak wine barrels in the depths of the wine cellar, and there is a sense of age in the air. A long-lasting smell of old wood.

There is a workbench at the door of the wine cellar, on which there is a bottle of ink, a slender quill, and the butler's account book for counting and counting the wine.On the top of the ledger was a list detailing the wine that went with each course at the dinner the next day.

When I first got married, I left all these matters to the housekeeper, because I didn't understand anything about these elaborate etiquettes.But now, my contacts and social circle are quite different from before, and I still need to judge the preferences of some guests.

I took the list, walked along the rows of wooden shelves, found the corresponding wine and checked it. From pre-dinner, dinner to post-dinner, I spent a full hour checking and revising all kinds of drinks.After the inspection, I opened myself a bottle of my favorite Bordeaux, conjured a glass with my wand, sat cross-legged on the ground in a nondescript manner, and poured myself a glass of wine.

After drinking a glass of wine, a warm feeling spread from my stomach to my whole body.I stretched comfortably, walked over to the workbench, and turned on the radio.The signal in the cellar was not very good, and the noise hissed for a long time before a station was tuned out.

A melodious and melodious singing voice with the ancient magic in the Nordic forest came out softly——

Mornieutulie

darkness has come

Believe and you will find your way

Believe that you will stick to the creed

Mornie alantie

Even though the darkness

Apromise lives without you now

But you promise not to forget

I heard this song for the first time and I really like its melody.I held a red wine glass in my hand, and twirled around in the narrow space between the wine racks. To my disappointment, after singing these few lines, the radio was full of hissing noises, and the signal was lost.I cursed "Damn it", waved my wand, and snapped off the radio.

At this moment, from the depths of the shadow of the wine rack, a deep man's voice gradually came out, continuing the singing on the radio just now, and then singing——

Mayitbeshadowscall

May the call of the evil shadow

Will fly away

just fell

May it be your journey on

May your long journey

To light the day

light up the starry sky

His singing voice is very deep, with a mysterious taste and dark charm.The flickering candlelight reflected the young man's handsome face, and his dark eyes shone brightly in the darkness.Tom came out wearing a dark green robe, put a roll of parchment in his hand on the table, pulled me into his arms, put his arm around my waist, and smiled softly: "I still want to dance with me ?"

The author has something to say:

This chapter should be marked as follows:

The scene where Jacqueline was frightened on a horse and later found out that it was the Stuart family's car was imitated from the novel "Xiang Han" by Bandit Wo Si Cun.

This article is fanfiction, for self-entertainment, the author does not own any characters and plots, nor will it be used for commercial purposes.