Chapter Text
Anger was nothing new to Ewen Montagu, but the anger that coursed through him as he walked down familiar isolated country lanes was like nothing he’d ever felt before. Tears of pure frustration streamed down his face as he played the argument with his father over and over in his head, trying to figure out where exactly it had gone wrong. A small part of him, the brutally honest part of him, whispered that he’d never had a chance in the first place and that the conversation was destined to go wrong from the beginning, but the Montagus were a stubborn bunch and Ewen refused to believe that his fate was predetermined.
In his opinion, the request had been perfectly reasonable; all he wanted to do was wear a suit to the upcoming gala his mother was throwing. The very idea of putting on one of the floral monstrosities his mother so favored was enough to make him feel like gagging, the actual act made him want to peel off his own skin. However, his parents were traditional people, which meant he was expected to play the part of their perfect upper-class daughter - a concept he hated even more than the boring aristocrats he was forced to mingle with.
His father had not found the request quite so reasonable. Lord Louis Montagu had been an old man since Ewen had been born and was very vocally of the belief that the country hadn’t been any good since the early seventies - back when it was illegal to perform ‘homosexual acts’ anywhere but in the privacy of your own home and it was generally acceptable to publicly hate anyone who wasn’t white.
It was safe to say that the words Louis Montagu had thrown at his son - whom he did not know was his son - were no longer deemed societally acceptable in the slightest. Ewen had tried to argue, had tried to claim it was just because it was ‘more comfortable’ and ‘easier to move around in’, but his father had remained staunch in his belief that no ‘daughter’ of his would be caught dead in men’s clothing at a gala.
Ewen had stopped pushing when he saw an all too familiar glint in his fathers eyes, a look he recognized from childhood that usually accompanied a belt, and had simply fled. He knew these back roads like the back of his hand, so he wasn’t worried about getting lost as he allowed his legs to carry him wherever they desired and left him free to get lost in his own thoughts.
The one thing he kept coming back to was how stupid it all seemed. He was only ever expected to dress that way for galas and family events; they otherwise allowed him to wear pants and baggy t-shirts to his heart's content. It felt like he was constantly trying to do exactly what they wanted from him, but whenever he neared the finish line someone would move it another five kilometres away. In the end it didn’t really matter, he supposed, no matter what they were going to hate him for being Ewen. All he had to do was make it to university and he could leave them to wonder why their ‘daughter’ never returned home.
It was that thought alone that had been fueling him for years.
“Are you alright, love?”
He jumped violently at the voice, so completely lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even seen the woman standing outside a small cobbled cottage - that he recognized and the sight of meant he’d been walking for at least half an hour. His heart hammered loudly in his chest as he turned to face her, balling his hands into fists in his pockets to resist the urge to fidget with the hem of his t-shirt.
The woman who had spoken was tall and broad, with dark hair cut short and small wire frame glasses dangling around her neck. She was dressed in soft-looking cotton trousers and a thick cardigan, despite the intense summer heat, and her gloved hands were covered in dirt. There was a large rose bush beside her, and the fresh, loose soil surrounding it told him that she’d just planted it.
Her soft chuckle and gentle smile in response to his startled glare only served to make him glare harder, “I’m sorry if I frightened you.”
“It’s fine.” He grumbled, wanting to turn and continue on his way but finding that there was something deep inside of him that wanted to stay with this woman.
“Are you alright?” She repeated, and Ewen suddenly remembered that he’d been quite violently crying for a while now and that there was likely stark evidence of that on his face.
“I’m fine.”
She nodded slightly and looked him up and down as if she was taking in everything about him. He crossed his arms over his chest.
“You’re a Montagu, aren’t you? One of Gladys’ kids?”
The mention of his family caused his shoulders to stiffen involuntarily and he found himself suddenly throwing all his guards up, “Who’s asking?”
Another soft smile, “I’m Hester. My partner and I just moved into this place last week,” She gestured at the yellow ‘SOLD’ sign by the gate, “I used to visit my cousins out here when I was little, they lived near your mother. You look very like her when she was younger, you know?”
Even though he knew it was intended to be some sort of compliment, or even just a simple observation, the comparison set his teeth on edge. Still, she was looking at him expectantly and Ewen wasn’t sure what exactly she wanted from him so he spat out the first thing that came to mind, “Why did you ask if I was alright?”
There was more venom in his words than he’d intended and the kind look on her face flickered for just a second before she regained her composure, “Forgive me for being nosy, you just looked upset and I wanted to know if you were okay. I think it’s pretty clear you don’t want any help, so I’ll be on my way.”
The second Hester turned her back on him to walk up the short path to her house something roared to life inside him. He wasn’t sure what exactly it was, maybe it was her kind smile or the unbearable idea of walking back home right then, but he suddenly couldn’t stomach the idea of being alone.
“Wait!” He called out, voice much more high-pitched than he’d intended. She paused and turned to him, raising a single eyebrow.
“I-I’m sorry for being rude.” It was all he could force his uncooperative mouth to say.
She nodded once, “That’s okay.”
Neither of them said anything for a few moments as they held intense eye contact. Ewen broke it first, a sudden wave of self-consciousness over the whole situation washing over him as he remembered how this woman had looked him up and down, as if she knew something he didn’t.
When he didn’t speak up she appeared to take pity on him, “Would you like to come in?”
Even though he didn’t know why, he found that he absolutely did.
“Would that- May I?” He asked, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he suddenly realized just how exhausted he was.
The smile that graced her features was the kindest looking one yet, the type of smile that was rare to see from anyone that wasn’t his sister, “Of course you can. Did you walk all the way from your place?”
He nodded as they made their way up the path together, gravel crunching underfoot.
“And you’re alone?”
“Yeah.” He sighed softly.
She let out a low whistle as she gestured for him to enter the cottage, “That’s a long walk, especially alone. How old are you, kid?”
A small, immature voice inside of him wanted to snap something back about how he wasn’t a kid, but he refrained. Instead he simply said, “I’m fifteen.”
She led him from the tiny hallway into a bright, old-fashioned kitchen. Plants and greenery adorned the shelves and windows, with bright pops of colour provided from the wide array of art on the walls. He couldn’t help but compare it to his own kitchen, which had recently been renovated to be unbearably flat and white. In comparison to that, this place was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“Tea?” She offered as Ewen drifted towards a bookcase full of various picture frames.
“Yes, please.”
The pictures were mostly of the same two people - one of whom he recognized as Hester and the other was a much shorter blonde man - and, after looking quickly from photo to photo, he realized he was watching the two age together. If he were to guess, he would’ve put Hester somewhere in her early twenties, but there were photos here where she couldn’t have been older than eighteen. Occasionally other people appeared in the photos but Hester and the man always seemed to appear together.
With one exception.
There was a much older looking photo shoved almost to the side on one of the lower shelves that caught Ewen’s eye. The man, who Ewen now assumed was Hester’s partner, was there, but Hester seemed to be missing. In her place was a young man, maybe seventeen years old, with his arm thrown around the blonde. His resemblance to the woman who had invited him in was almost uncanny, but his eyes were lacking the joyful sparkle he’d seen looking back at him in each photo of the woman.
And then it clicked.
Ewen looked from this photo to the woman currently brewing two cups of tea and he was suddenly filled with the urge to either cry or laugh.
“Here we go!” Hester’s voice broke him from his thoughts once again, and this time when he looked at her he saw the faint bob of her Adam's apple and the slightly wider set of her shoulders. She placed the mugs onto the scratched and stained oak table and looked at him expectantly, “Are you sure you’re alright, love?”
He nodded sincerely. “I’m sure. Thank you for the tea.”
She smiled at him and her gaze drifted to the array of photoframes he’d just been inspecting, “Ah yes, a little tradition John and I have. We take a photo together on each birthday and occasion and then it goes on the shelf.”
“Is John your partner?”
“He is indeed, he’s at work at the moment but he should be home in a little while. We’ve been together for almost six years now, which doesn’t feel real in the slightest now that I say it aloud.” Her laughter filled the room and Ewen couldn’t help but smile along, the gentle joy in her voice infectious.
He took a sip of his tea while he tried to parse through his own thoughts, “You know my parents?”
“Know is a strong word,” Hester smiled, “I know of them. I met your mom when I was very young. Your family is pretty well known around these parts though. There’s four of you kids, isn’t there?”
A nod.
“So which one are you? I never caught your name.” The look she gave him made him feel weirdly naked, as if she knew something that even he didn’t.
“Most people call me Monty.” He offered. It wasn’t a lie, despite coming from a large family of people who were also technically Monty's, the nickname had only really stuck for him. The nickname wasn’t something that necessarily bothered him, it was much preferred over the name his parents used, but it would be nice to actually be called by his first name.
She nodded, “Is that what you like to be called?”
Tears filled his eyes at the simplicity of the question, the way she said it like it wasn’t something that tore him up inside. He shook his head, not trusting his voice in that moment.
“Would you like to tell me your name, love?”
Looking into Hester’s kind, open face, Ewen was suddenly filled with the courage to tell this stranger something he had only ever told his brother in the safe company of the moon. He thought back to the photo of the miserable looking boy and compared it to the joyful woman sitting across from him and knew in his bones that she would never use this against him.
“Ewen. My name is Ewen Montagu.”
“It’s lovely to meet you, Ewen.”