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(original characters/story)
@mediwhumpmay
Caldwell checked his pocket watch again. Bell was late. Bell was usually a few minutes late. But this was ridiculous. He was late by over an hour.
Maybe he had forgotten their standing appointment. After dinner, Caldwell liked to have Bell sit with him by the fire and talk at him for a few hours. He wouldn’t say it was soothing. But he was a man of habit.
Caldwell walked to the window and looked out into the inky black of night, the roar of a late winter rainstorm pounding the glass of the windows.
Well, if Bell wouldn’t come to him, he would come to Bell.
Caldwell grabbed his overcoat and top hat and strode out into the frigid storm.
The walk down the cottage using the gravel drive was much easier than taking the pasture, less muddy too. Caldwell arrived in no time at the cheerful-looking cottage and raised his hand to bang on the door.
But before he could knock, the door was flung open and Mr. Bell’s farmhand, Hogyn stood there in an oversized raincoat and boots. Hogyn looked up at Caldwell, eyes wide. Caldwell looked down at the young man, mouth open. They stood there a moment more before Hogyn stepped aside.
“Come in, Lord Caldwell, please come in.” Hogyn stammered.
Caldwell did so. “Where is Mr. Bell?”
“That’s what I was going out for, my lord. He’s gone missing.” Hogyn jammed a large floppy hat on his head. “I’m afraid something has happened.”
Caldwell struggled to process this but proceeded forward. “I will help you. But what do you think has happened?”
“He’s been feeling poorly these past few days. And then he went out to fix the pasture fence in all this weather. I couldn’t stop him. He’ll catch his death, my lord, sir.”
Caldwell nodded. “Let’s go then. Are you ready?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Good lad. Take the north end, I’ll take the south. We will meet in the middle.”
And they braved the storm. The rain that pelted down was icy and torrential. The wind ripped across the countryside and it was all Caldwell could do to keep his overcoat closed. His top hat was soon gone. Torn off by a gust. Caldwell headed to the pasture fence and began to work his way along it. He called out for Bell many times, his voice swallowed by the storm.
Caldwell lost the feeling in his ears and fingers. His boots filled with rainwater and mud. His clothes hung heavy, drenched and freezing.
He should have brought a lantern. He should have brought a search party. Bell should not be out in this.
The thought that his dear friend was already dead kept whispering into Caldwell’s thoughts.
Tears mixed with the rain on his face.
Caldwell crested a small hill and realized that he’d almost finished searching his share of the property. And no sign of Bell. Unless…
Caldwell squinted through the downpour at a dark smudge. Something lying in the close cropped grass.
Bell.
Caldwell ran forward as best as he could, slipping and sliding in mud and runoff. It was a person. In a dark coat. Laying face down on the ground.
Caldwell turned the man over.
It was Bell. He’d found him.
Bell’s eyes were closed and rain was beginning to pool in the hollows of his eyes. His dark hair was plastered to his face. He was very pale. So pale.
Caldwell shook his friend. “Bell!” He called.
Nothing. No response.
Caldwell put a hand to Bell’s cheek. He was cold.
Caldwell swallowed hard and took his friend in his arms. Carefully, slowly, he made his way back to the cottage.
When he could, Caldwell looked to Bell’s face. If only he would open his eyes. Or stir. The man lay limp and cold against Caldwell’s chest. Bell was such an animated man. His eyes sparkled and he sang so sweetly. To see him like this, lifeless. So close to death. Caldwell felt his heart clenching.
Hogyn met him along the way.
“You found him, my lord, is he?” Hogyn did not finish the question.
“He’s breathing.” Caldwell answered as they entered the warm cottage, dripping puddles onto the floor. “We need dry clothes. And stoke that fire.”
“All of us needs dry clothes.” Hogyn shut the door and began stripping off his coat and hat. “Lest we catch our death too.”
“No, no.” Caldwell set Bell onto his small bed with a sigh. “I can’t. I have got to go for a doctor. Bell is very ill.”
Hogyn had come over by now. “He hasn’t said anything.”
“Nothing.” Caldwell set his jaw and leaned over his friend. “Bell.” He gently shook Bell’s shoulder. Bell’s head sagged to the side. Caldwell pressed a wet hand to Bell’s wet cheek and stroked it.
“Bell.” He urged again. Willing Bell to wake. To respond. But nothing.
Caldwell backed away, blinking tears back. “He won’t wake. Keep him warm. I will return with a doctor.”
Hogyn was stoking the fire. “What doctor would come all the way in this weather, respectfully, my lord?”
“The one I intend to pay very well.” And Caldwell dashed out into the storm again.