Part One

"Flowers"

Dickon was a fool…

... and he knew it.

The first time he met the young mistress from India, he was twelve years old, and she was ten. His first impression of her was not exactly what he was promised. Martha had told him of all her worries when she first heard she was coming to Misselthwaite Manor. She told him about the mistress's mother and her love for jewels and other rich privileges. Mistress Rose Lennox was a spoiled woman, with a very bitter heart. Martha first had the unfortunate opportunity to meet her personally and it was nothing but unruly, tirant, behavior. She is incredibly picky and would go to no trouble to humiliate you if things are not to her liking. She would never stay long because the moore seemed to make her sick. When she was expected to stay more than a couple of days, she would only stay for a few hours, claiming all the dirty plant air was giving her a headache. Martha warned him to stay far away from Miss Mary Lennox, fearing she would be exactly the same.

The day Mary arrived, Dickon did his best to avoid her completely, just as his sister told him. He never even bothered to be in the same room as her. Being a man of peace, he didn't want to cause any trouble, so he stuck with the work he knew best. Archibald originally hired him for work inside of the manor, but quickly extended the boy's duties when he discovered Dickon's gift with plants and other wild things.

He was in the gardens when he past by a wall, one he's never noticed before. Following the length of it, he found no opening, no door, no way inside.

What's in it? he thought to himself, pushing past some ivy, looking for the entrance.

"Is there a door?"

The voice shocked him as he jumped out of the mysterious person's view who almost spotted him before he jumped behind another garden wall. He waited to be called upon, because if she spotted him, she would have done so, but she never did. Peaking over the ivy, he saw none other than the young mistress of India, though he didn't know it. Instead he saw a mysterious girl talking to a little red robin. He thought he was the only one who spoke to animals. She had long light brown curls, and was very thin. Her small hands pushed away some ivy as well, apparently she too was searching for the entrance. He was in shock, and not because of the girl's interest in gardens, or because he watched her talking to a young robin but because of how beautiful this girl was and he wasn't prepared for it.

Instinctively Dickon knew the one he was spying on was infact a girl of a rich background. It was her wardrobe which gave it away. She wore a red yarn cap, a dark forrest green coat, with bronze buttons shaped like roses. Hiding underneath her coat was a simple thick navy blue dress (but unmistakably expensive), protecting her from the extremely cold climate, which fell loosely just a little below her knees. She also wore black stockings and black boots to go with it. Despite her extremely pale complexion, she had just a bit of light pink blush in her cheeks, and a look of trouble in her eyes.

It was hypnotising, just looking at her and Dickon couldn't explain it. He's talked to girls before, seen pretty girls before, and definitely ones of Mary's class. Truthfully he's never spoke to someone of Mary's class but he's seen them before and never had they ever put a spell on him quite like this girl here.

"Where does it lead?" she asks a robin excitedly, following the wall, just as he once tried.

The Robin tweeted a bit before flying over the wall. Mary reached out for it, "No wait, please!"

Mary kicked the dirt below her and sighed defeatedly. Dickon on the other hand couldn't contain himself any longer. He jumped from behind the wall and said loud enough for her to notice him, "Ah think 'e wants thy ta folla 'im."

Mary almost screamed when she quickly turned around and found a rather older boy standing in front of her. Not too older but old enough to tower over her a little. She eyed him, looking down and up, scanning his body, looking for anything that could possibly hurt her. She's already been in situations like that and she doesn't plan on letting it happen again.

Pulling up a gentle hand, Dickon shows he means no harm. "I didn't mean ta startle tha."

"Who are you?" she sneers quietly, glaring at him.

"I'm the gardener," gesturing around him speaking very fast, thick in broad yorkshire, "I work 'ere ."

Eyebrows pushed together and a look of confusion tightening her face, she confesses with embarrassment "I'm sorry I don't quite understand?" she asks.

Now blushing furiously, he always knew his english wasn't proper, but he was never embarrassed with the way he spoke, until now. "I says," he took a deep breath and did the best he could, speaking slower, "I work here."

She understood this time, but not without plenty effort. "Do you know what's behind the wall?"

Still stunned, she was there with him and not inside with the rest of her class, he stumbled on his words, "I'm no' sure. I couldn't find thy entrance."

Smiling halfheartedly at him she drops the ivy which was once tight in her grip, "Pitty."

Dickon meant to leave after that and just go back to work, even though it was his break, but he just couldn't. "My nem is Dickon Sowerby. What's thy'n?"

She pauses for a moment before giving him an answer, "Mary Lennox." Her tone was gentler but her guard was still up. Taking his dirty hand, she shakes it and says with a most beautiful smile, "It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Sowerby."

"An… Thy as well, Miss Lennox."

"Mary," she said gripping the ivy again.

"Eh?"

Mary was trying to pull herself up but gave up when it seemed impossible. Her skirt was too heavy. She didn't turn back to look at him again, her focus still on the ivy, "I don't like being called Miss Lennox. Please call me Mary."

"Tha doesn't li' her own nem?"

Turning around and glaring at him mildly she answers, "No," turning back to the ivy she continues, "and it's none of your business."

"I apologize miss-" he says blushing furiously, but Mary cut him off.

"Don't fret. I just don't like it, is all. Do you think you can help me get over this wall?"

Dickon looked at the wall. It was a bit tall but it wasn't impossible. He's climbed taller walls before, but in order for it to work, he'd have to…

"Why doesn't tha ask for the key?"

Mary pauses for a moment before answering, "They don't know I'm out here." Dickon doesn't say anything. Feeling a loss of words, he studies her face. There was something completely queer about this girl, he felt it, but couldn't place it. "Are you going to help me or not?" she asks, her voice snapping him out of his thoughts, "I'll climb this wall with you or without you."

Dickon nods his head. He'll help her. Only because he doesn't want her to get hurt. It would be a shame if something happened on his watch. Getting as close to the wall as possibly, Dickon cupped his hands together, so she could use them as a step. Mary placed her foot there and put a hand on his shoulder for balance.

Roughly pushing his head downward, she snarls, "Don't look!"

He understood what she meant by asking him not to look, but he would never…! "Sorry Miss," he quickly said anyway.

From there he pushed her up, and it took her no time at all to climb the wall. Dickon proceeded to follow her, but he had experience climbing, so naturally he would have no trouble. Naive to this knowledge, Mary held out her hand for him to take, so she could help him up. Dickon took it anyway, even though he wouldn't have to. They were small and soft in his hand.

They both sat on the wall looking down. Not toward the garden though, no. They looked over the moor. It was quite beautiful at this view. Dickon has seen views of his home like this but he loves them so much it , each time he see's them, is like the first time. He didn't even notice Mary swinging her legs over the wall and proceeding to drop from it until he heard a huge thump.

The sound caught his attention as he tore away from the beautiful view and found the beautiful girl inside of the garden now, standing up and dusting off her skirt. "Miss!" Dickon called to her worried, jumping down the same as she. He approached her, searching for any kind of wound, "Thy alright, Miss?!"

"I'm fine," she said casually, pushing past him and moving toward the center of the garden.

Yes. He's never met quite a girl like Miss Mary in his whole life. Even his sister Martha, who is just as common as he is, would demand help descending from the wall like that. She says it's because it is expected of gentlemen. Doesn't matter if it's a gentleman off the moor, or a gentleman of great worth.

"Look at this place, Mr. Sowerby," Mary gasped. She touched some of the branches, bare and poking out like skeletons from a graveyard. "Have you ever seen anything quite like it."

Still staring at Mary he answers, "No. Not quite."

She turns and smiles at him, to which Dickon tore his gaze from hers, his face flushing a deep crimson hue, embarrassed she may read his thoughts through his expression and the true meaning behind his answer. "Too bad about the garden, though," she says turning her attention back to the garden, "I bet this place was once beautiful."

Dickon moved toward the branch, "An' it will be again."

"What do you mean?" Mary asked, as she saw Dickon pull out a small pocket knife. Seeing it alerted her, she watched him closely as he skinned the branch, and they saw green.

"See Miss Mary," he replied happily, "Tis wick."

"Wick?"

"Aye."

"Well, what does that mean?"

Dickon smiled at her, "Wick means tis alive."

Mary smiled back, thinking about the strange new word. "Hmmm… Wick," she said trying it out for herself. Suddenly a new voice came from behind the wall.

"Marrrrry!" it sang and Mary quickly moved away from the branch. She pulled up her index finger to her lips, pleading him with her eyes that he stayed quiet.

They waited a moment and Dickon pulled her toward the wall again, getting real close to it like before. "Let me go first," Miss Mary instructed urgently, "I go first, and then you wait a moment. Count to sixty and then leave yourself."

He didn't have time to ask why because the voice called to her again, "Mary, where are you!?"

"Coming!" Mary shouted back. She turned her attention back to Dickon, "Please. I don't have many friends. I would hate it if I got you in trouble."

Dickon nodded and hoisted her up. Again she climbed with ease. He did as she instructed, listening to last of the conversation. "What were doing over there Mary?" the voice said.

"Oh nothing, Mother," Mary answered. "Just went exploring."

READER'S NOTE:

Okay tell me what you think. Hate it. Love it. Can't understand it… please

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