Author's note: So I know it has been forever since I have posted anything, and I don't know how popular this will be but I was watching a film and it had Dickon in it, all grown up. And it got me watching The Secret Garden which is what I used to watch constantly. I love it, and I have to say that this is based on the film and not the book, because unfortunately I haven't read it. I grew up watching these characters and enjoyed writing about them and making them my own. So, I hope whoever, if anyone- fingers crossed, reads it, they enjoy it, because I certainly enjoyed writing it.
So, here you go, enjoy...
Chapter One: The Becoming of a young Lady
Mary looked out the window, wishing once more she could see the glorious landscape she had grown to love from her window at Misselthwaite Manor. She missed the halls and rooms of the manor; which she had first thought so dreary and lifeless but had soon turned into colour and beauty and laughter, she smiled as she remembered her and Colin racing down the corridors, exercising his legs.
She missed Colin and her Uncle, even if they did visit every couple of months. She missed Martha and even Mrs Medlock, who had had somewhat a change of heart since Colin's remarkable recovery.
She missed the grounds, she missed her secret garden. And even if she had now shared the garden with her uncle and cousin, with the friends she had made, there was still that essence of secrecy; of wonder, of magic. Because it was her who had found it, she had saved the dying life within its forgotten walls and brought back its spirit which now rested in so many of their hearts. It was her with help, who had allowed the flowers to seed and grow and bloom. They had made it alive, together.
Mary couldn't bring herself to think about what she missed most. Who, she missed most. Instead, she pressed her head against the cool glass and brought up her knees in front of her chest, hands resting lightly on top of them. The Sun's last rays were stretching over the buildings of the city, desperate to give off some last light. Mary closed her eyes, but she couldn't feel the warmth.
There was a barrier between her and the rays. She felt the warmth around her, but never on her. She couldn't feel it soaking into her skin or brushing against her. She sighed.
"Don't let Madame Hauraudine catch you like that." Eliza said, as she packed more of her pretty clothes. Eliza was very pretty. Blonde, with rosy cheeks and sparkly blue eyes that shone like sapphires drinking in sunlight. Her clothes were pretty too.
"Which dress do you think I should wear tonight, for the dinner?" She held up two pretty ones. A soft yellow with a lace around the neckline and a bow around the waist. The other was a pale pink, and had delicate embroidery of a slightly darker pink, in the pattern of roses, along its skirt. Mary had not the heart to tell Eliza that the two dresses looked like little girls' dresses, and the entire point of the dinner was to celebrate what accomplished and educated young women they had become. Eliza's personality was too dainty for it, and it would upset her, and Mary didn't wish for her friend to be crying on their last night at the school.
Mary looked to her own unpacked case. She thought it was odd, for the past six years all she had wanted to do was return to Misselthwaite Manor; the place she finally been able to call home. But now, all of the sudden, she wanted nothing more than to travel hundreds of miles in the opposite direction.
It wasn't a fondness for the school which had made her stomach feel quite funny, she had never had any love or even affection for HartCroft Finishing School for Girls. Most girls had at least a liking of it, a sort of respect or admiration. But not Mary. Most girls cried when they spent their first few weeks here. But not Mary. Most girls were elegant, educated young women when they finished the six years. But not Mary.
Oh, they had certainly polished her off from the wild young thing they described her as when she first arrived. She could speak properly, knew etiquette and she'd always been clever but now she was educated. She could walk gracefully and sew and dance. Her frizzy hair had grown up with her it seemed, and darkened, turning into silky, almost black, loose curls which reached down to her elbows. Her skin, which had always been dry and itchy from the heat of India, had smoothed and become a flawless complection. Her rich brown eyes animated intelligence and a sort humour at the world.
She was no longer sour. She wasn't the miserable little lonely girl who didn't want to be happy. But she still wasn't the young woman her teachers thought she had achieved to be. She was on the surface, that was their best skill; moulding girls into specific characters to join society and be admired with their elegance. But underneath, she was still Mary; Mary who longed to work in the gardens, who wanted to ride a horse all day, who had no pleasure in being presented to society.
And that was the worst part. About this whole place. She didn't want those things; she thought the girls she'd shared the past six years with were silly and ignorant, boring and stupid. Even Eliza, her dear friend who wouldn't hear or say a bad word about anybody. Even when they did put drying candle wax in her golden hair. Mary felt out of place, and now, as she was coming to the end of her time, she felt like a fake, a cheat, a liar. And anyone could catch her out at any moment.
She did in fact hold much disdain for the finishing school. She thought it were a place not to turn into young ladies, but to be sculptured into a passive woman, easy to control and manage. They were taught it was polite to speak only when spoken to; but if everyone done that then nobody would speak because nobody could speak until someone had spoken, but they wouldn't be able to. It created a chain, an endless chain, just like all the other things they were taught, where it just kept going round and round.
But the real reason why Mary was so reluctant to go, was not because she had trouble leaving, but rather, had trouble with what she was about to face, to return to. That first ever friend who had saved her in many ways. He had helped her breathe life and love back into the garden. He had helped her feel happiness, taught her how to see life in the world. He had saved her from becoming bitter, lost, alone. He had ignored her letters. He had not sent her anything since the day she left.
When she took away everything, it was cowardice. She didn't want to face him. And she was angry at herself for allowing to be hurt, for being a coward. She knew she would see him and she decided she would refuse to show any emotion, even if it was just through sheer damn determination.
Mary cleared her throat, and moved to her bed.
"The yellow one." She answered Eliza. Eliza nodded. And then put it into her case. When she looked at Mary, Mary could see a guilty look on her face and a blush in her cheeks.
"You were never much one for fashion." She explained, hands clasped behind her and head bowed, looking every part a little girl being scolded. Mary laughed.
"That is the truest thing I have heard all day." Eliza glanced at her friend again, who had taken no offence to what most would assume was them being thought having a lapse in judgement. Mary was really very peculiar; she would laugh at something, like a joke only she had heard. And there was this look in her eyes, which was just so… odd. Like she and the world had a secret that nobody knew about. But, she was very loyal and brave, and kind when she wanted to be.
Eliza talked, and she didn't mind that Mary wasn't really paying attention, Mary had a habit of not really paying attention. But she gained her friend's attention when she sat on the edge of Mary's bed, a hand clasped over hers. Mary turned to look at her friend.
"Promise you'll write to me?"
"Of course." Mary frowned, it looked like Eliza was going to cry. Mary, who had not known how to cry until she managed to reunite her uncle and cousin when she was ten, still thought it bizarre that people could let tears loose so often and freely. To Mary, tears were so precious and private, they were a relief of an overwhelming emotion, and for her, that meant not displaying it for the entire world to see.
"Of course." Eliza hugged her, and Mary tried to smile.
Looking around again to see if she had missed anything, Mary wasn't satisfied with her packing. She glanced at the dress she was going to wear for the formal dinner. It was a deep, royal blue, and the neckline was slightly lower than what she was used to wearing, and the beautiful material fitted her figure perfectly, it fitted her torso, and then fell, flowing down around her, giving her a slim, grown look. Eliza thought it beautiful but too grown up for Mary to wear, and Mary had countered because she was so much more mature than the other girls it was perfect.
Mary didn't want any ribbon or bows in her hair, they certainly made the girls look too young now, but she smiled as Eliza tried putting a ribbon in her own hair; a style her friend had become accustomed to over the years. Mary began to comb through her own hair, and as she heard the other girls run past their door, squealing in excitement about tonight's events, Mary was glad she would soon be out of the way of such nonsense.
The dinner was their own private celebration, for finishing Finishing School. It was what followed that Mary dreaded. People from all over; the girls' families, the wealthy contributors who made donations to the school, young bachelors, all from a background of aristocracy, which Mary concluded that meant most of them would be pompous. Would be in the main hall, sitting while the girls gave a concert. It was Madame Hauraudine's way of showing off what she had accomplished; because in her eyes, the beautiful, respectful young ladies were there because of her, it was solely her work and effort that had made these fine dolls.
Mary had been given the most solos, and she dreaded it, she dreaded anything that put her in the spotlight, she was more than happy to remain unseen in the background. Of course, the other girls had been dying to get a solo, and the fact that odd Mary had received so many was more than annoying to them. Madame Hauraudine had had no problem at all playing favourites over the years, but when it came to people viewing her work, she would put on the best she had to offer. Both musically and intellectually that meant Mary, to everyone's dismay.
No matter that Mary didn't want to, or that other girls were desperate to be shown off, Madame Hauraudine had made up her mind. Mary stared at her place at the table whilst the girls waited for their teachers. She realised, that as detached as she was from HartCroft Park that was the school, it was the place she had spent most of her life in.
When she was two her parents had moved to India for her father's promotion. They had stayed in a city for three years before moving to another one. They had spent just over a year in another, and then moved to a remote town for two or so years. When Mary was ten and her parents had died, she had been living there for just under three years. She had only spent two years at Misselthwaite Manor, once turning twelve, she had been sent here, to the Finishing school.
Her Uncle had argued it was so she could have a female influence during her growing up, and that being a young lady would better her chances of having a happier, more fulfilling life. So discreetly saying that it would mean she could marry someone placed high in society. Mary very much suspected that it was Collin's idea. And what Collin wanted he got. The servants and maids of the manor used to giving into his commands and his father trying to redeem himself for more or less those first ten years he had missed of his son's life.
Six years she had spent here, it had been the most consistent place in her life. And still, she felt nothing apart from the affections she held for Eliza and one or two of her teachers. Madame Hauraudine glided in, followed by the other teachers. They stood behind their seats, waiting for the headmistress to address everyone to sit down. And Madame Hauraudine certainly looked like any respectable woman in a high society as she stood behind her seat at head of the table. Her velvet deep green dress flowed around her, the excess material adding to her gliding sensation. The emerald necklace around her neck and the rings she wore all pointed to money and history. Her brown starting-to-turn-grey hair was as always, pulled tight and woven into a neat bun.
Her arms were extended as she smiled, looking down the table. It was the first time the girls had had dinner with their teachers and not been in their uniform. Madame Hauraudine was obviously judging what they had chosen to wore. She smiled at Caroline, one of the more snobbish girls, in fact, the most snobbish girl Mary had ever met. She prided herself in spending ridiculous amounts of money on dresses and trinkets. Eliza received a smile, but Mary could see the patronising gleam their headmistress had.
When the sharp eyes reached Mary's and quickly swept over her, Mary saw Madame Hauraudine's lips tighten. Mary tried not to smile at the disapproval. She had chosen a plain blue dress without any lace or pattern. It was simple, and yet on Mary it seemed to still have some elegance. She had tied some of her curly hair up with a ribbon that matched her dress, whilst leaving the rest of her beautiful locks to fall down her back.
Mary glanced up, and looked at the other end of the long table, at Mr Vauhllwar. He was the oldest person there, and Mary's favourite teacher. He taught music, and he had certainly captivated Mary's eager mind with various compositions and songs. She had often enjoyed the music lessons, drilling the same exercises over and over until they reached perfection. His large body already slouched slightly from standing for too long, even though he had not been standing very long at all. His full grey hair fell down around him and his glasses hid the constant squint he made with his eyes.
He caught her eye and gave a wink. Madame Hauraudine had finished her dramatic, too-long speech. She gestured with her hands, bending her elbows and wrists.
"Ladies please be seated." Chairs quietly scraped as the girls took their seat.
"Madame are you sure you want Mary to perform the middle solo? She hasn't exactly risen to the occasion, has she?" Caroline, who was only two seats down from the head of table; the deputy headmistress, Mrs Boulevaul was in the right hand seat.
"I am sure Mary will have chosen something suitable for this evening's celebrations." Although, as she said it she glanced at Mary from the corner of her eye, paused it seemed in mid-action as soup dripped from her spoon back into the bowel. Mary, pretending not to have heard, instead turned to Eliza who was sat next to her.
"Ladies." Madame Hauraudine began, gathering everyone's attention. Mary noticed how she had carried out the vowels, giving the word significance. Were they all really supposed to be so flattered and honoured and grateful to be called ladies rather than girls? As Caroline's face created a smug, satisfied smirk, yes, Mary thought, they were.
"I would like you all to be ready in the main hall in two hours please."
Mary stood at the edge in the front row of the group of the twenty girls who had spent the past few years together. Most of them had been waiting for this moment, where, for the first time, they would be presented formally as young Ladies, worthy of being in the company of those already mingling in society. Mary couldn't understand the fascination, and a small part of her wished she could feel the excitement and pride everyone around her felt as they waited behind the closed curtains for Madame Hauraudine to recite her introduction.
They heard an enthusiastic applaud and the clicking of shoes against wood as Madame Hauraudine took her place centre stage, the thick red theatre curtains separating her from her girls.
"Ladies and Gentlemen. It was in this very hall, six years ago, you left your little girls, handing them over into my care. Since then they have learnt valuable life skills as well as being educated; their dance is as graceful as a swan, their singing as beautiful as any sound you will hear. They have been taught the art of conversation, have come to understand what is expected of them, and have achieved under my watchful eye not only to meet, but to surpass those expectations. When you waved goodbye to your children, they had tears in their eyes and dribbling down their cheeks. They no longer need for their noses to be wiped or for their wails of woe to be heard. They are no longer children. So, it is with great honour and pride, I present to you , who now wish to introduce themselves in their own way, HartCroft Finishing School's, young Ladies."
The curtains were pulled open to reveal them standing there, smiles on their faces. Mary saw the sheer number of people that filled the hall and felt her stomach twist into a knot. Usually the hall seemed dull with not enough people to fill it. This evening however, the very walls seemed to spark with the life that it contained. As the audience applauded, Madame Hauraudine with one arm swept out behind her and her other hand parallel to her chin, glided across the stage to stand beside Mr Vauhllwar who was seated at the piano.
The headmistress' theatrics never ceased to amaze Mary as Madam Hauraudine returned to the front of the stage, facing the girls this time, prepared to conduct. The music began and they all took a breathe. Mary made sure her voice fitted in with the others, and when the hawk eyes of Madame Hauraudine rested on her, she prepared for her solo. At the very slight bow of Madame's head, Mary stepped forward. She waited for the build of the music before raising her voice above the others. She easily carried it across the hall without shouting or straining her voice.
The song ended and the audience burst into applause. The girls in perfect unison, after countless practices, took their left leg and put it behind their right, feet pointed at a particular angle, bent their knees and bowed their heads, hands positioned much like a ballerina, slightly in front of them, hands gently curved. They paused like that for a moment, and then returned to their upright position all at the same time.
Madame Hauraudine, turned slightly to face the audience and held up a hand. The loud noise quickly diminished in eagerness to hear more. Madame Hauraudine turned to the girls, eyes gleaming. After the third song, Caroline and the girl she shared a room with, Agatha, and their other friend Rebecca stepped forward. Mary made her way over to the piano and sat down as Mr Vauhllwar stood, he remained beside her, and his presence comforted Mary, who was nervous.
She began, her hands flittering over the black and ivory keys, the girls' keeping in time with her. As her hands softened to play a quiet, slow part of the song, Caroline's voice stood out. It wasn't an unpleasant sound, but Mary had grown tired of it, Caroline thought it the most precious thing in the world, and leading up to the concert they had heard it morning, noon and night.
As Mary listened and played, she realised that the reason why Caroline's voice couldn't be heard for very long, was because it was so dull. Yes she could reach the notes, but her voice was empty, it held no personality or emotion. It was quite sad really, seeing as Caroline wanted nothing more to expose those things about her. Mary had a feeling it was because she couldn't pretend to be a kind and likable person in song, the way she could create the façade in conversation.
Despite herself, and being put in the spotlight much more than she cared to be, Mary enjoyed playing the music. Her favourite, was when four of them used the flute, it a slow, romantic, tragic song. Eventually, they came to an end, and the girls again curtsied together in perfecting timing. Madame Hauraudine too curtsied, her knees and neck bending more than anyone else's.
The curtains closed and opened again. Madame curtsied again and Mr Vauhllwar bowed by the piano. Madame Hauraudine then walked towards them, taking from the group Caroline, Grace and Mary. She discreetly pushed them to the very front of the stage. Mary, horrified, used all of her concentration not to stumble, she felt exposed as she was now close enough to see faces amongst the crowd, before they had just been blurs, shaded figures. But now she could see their expressions, their emotions. They curtsied, Caroline first, and then Grace, and then Mary, each receiving their own individual applause.
When the applaud for Mary drowned out any other noise, and everyone rose from their seats, Mary felt embarrassed but she did feel like a small achievement had been accomplished. She was glad that so many people had enjoyed listening to her sing and play, she didn't think they would have. They stepped back into the group, and together they took one final curtsy as the curtain closed for the final time.
Friends turned to hug each other, and to congratulate everyone. Eliza gushed at how excellent Mary was, and Mary returned the compliments.
"Well done Mary." Grace stepped forward, closing the gap between the two and the rest of the girls. Mary smiled and gave a kind comment on Grace's violin performance. Mrs Boulevaul ushered the girls off of the stage where the kitchen staff were waiting to place refreshments for the guests.
The girls hurried off of the back of the stage, giggling and whispering to each other and quickly walked through the room attached at the back, almost racing down the corridor to reunite with their parents and meet important people, with who, for the first time, they could converse and make an impression on. Mary made sure she was one of the last to enter. Hopefully, nobody would want to talk to her, and at the joy of seeing all the other girls, she would be missed out.
She put on a polite smile, and made her way through the crowd, searching for her uncle and cousin.
"Looking for your family eh?" Mr Vauhllwar asked, a drink of whisky in his hand. Mary nodded, and her smiled widened as she heard the sound of her Uncle's voice calling her name. He made his way over and embraced her.
Although he and Collin made frequent visits, Mary missed them, and she made sure to look at her uncle, so she would never forget what he looked like. His hump, which had been his most dominating feature for years, had lessened, and he had managed to straighten his back more and regain an air of pride in his walk, but it would never match the confident stride he had in his youth. The beginning of wrinkles were nothing compared to the lively glint the had in his eyes.
"Lord Craven." Mr Vauhllwar introduced himself after his greeting with Mary had ended. They shook hands.
"This is the most talented young Lady I have ever had the pleasure to teach." Mary took it as an enormous compliment, and her uncle thanked him kindly before agreeing enthusiastically at her talents. Eliza, with her parents, had also made their way towards Mary. Mary remembered Eliza's parents from a previous visit. They had money, her father being a successful businessman, but they didn't have any title, which is maybe why the other girls had never bothered with Eliza.
"You must be so proud." And Lord Craven, knowing of Mary's fondness for the family, began a conversation with them, being every inch the gentleman Mary knew he was. She chatted with Eliza and they briefly said hello to passing girls and their parents.
"You must be feeling very pleased with yourself." A grin grew on Mary's face as she turned around to see Collin. She hugged him very quickly. His legs seemed sturdy enough for the moment, but she made sure to keep an eye on him, he still didn't have the strength of the normal man. And his skin was still a sick, pasty colour, but he had a redness in his cheeks and his blonde-almost-white hair added to the frail and delicate look he had. He would have made a very pretty girl.
She introduced Collin to Eliza, but Collin was not interested in anyone other than his cousin. Mary conversed with both of them, not looking Collin directly in the eye. He still had that look. The look he had whenever he saw Mary. It scared her slightly, even though she would never admit it. It was a longing, a want to possess her, to own her. They both knew he never could, but it didn't matter. It frustrated him when he wanted something he couldn't have, and it rarely happened, he would always get his way eventually. But he couldn't, not with Mary.
Mary felt disappointed to still see that obsession in his eyes after all these years. She had hoped he would grow out of it, that he would finally realise that Mary would never be his wife. That she would never love him, not in the way he wanted her to. It made things awkward between them, and Mary couldn't trust Collin in the way she wanted, she couldn't confide in him, or go to him if she was upset. In case he mistook it for a sign of something it wasn't. It had put a strain on their relationship, but Mary tried to love him as the friend and cousin she had once been so affectionate of.
"Lord Craven." The three turned as a cold, stern looking man shook hands with him, a younger version of him standing behind.
"Duke, pleasure to see you again. And you Master Edward." The Duke's son shook his hand.
"I believe you have met my son, Collin." The two young men looked at each other and shook hands, a friendly approach between them.
"And this is my niece, Mary." Lord Craven placed a hand on Mary's shoulder and the Duke raised his brow in surprise. He bowed his head and then turned back to Lord Craven.
Edward took Mary's hand and kissed it. He was a very handsome young man, with broad features on his face and a good sturdy build to his figure. He was charming, witty, and more charming. And that was how Mary knew he was just playing a role. She didn't enjoy these types of games.
"What a beautiful cousin you have Collin. And how excellently she sings and plays the piano." Mary felt more than uncomfortable but she maintained a smile out of politeness.
"Indeed. Mary this is Edward, we have bumped into one another on many occasions in town. Edward hosts the most splendid balls."
"You know, Eliza has the lightest foot out of all the young Ladies here. If I could dance as half as graceful as you Eliza, people would mistake me for an elf." Eliza blushed and muttered a comment.
Mary found the conversation boring very soon after it had begun, she stood with Collin, Eliza and Edward, with the boys talking about politics. Their opinions were boring and unoriginal. And Mary thought it was only girls who couldn't think for themselves…
Mary frowned at one particular comment on the justice system, and she made her own remark. Edward, surprised at the confidence and assurance she said it with, retaliated.
"Mary, these Gentleman do not wish to be discussing the law with you all evening. Perhaps Caroline can refresh your conversation." Madame Hauraudine interrupted before walking away, talking to some Lord about a donation he had promised earlier in the year. The three turned to look at Caroline, and when she could not answer Edward's question, he turned his attentions back to Mary.
Mary excused herself as soon as she was able, and she calmly walked out of the room, Edward and Collins' gaze lingering after her.
"Well she is something isn't she?" Edward knew the remark would get under Collin's skin. He knew he was superior to Collin, and all Collin could do was grin and bear it, as the expression went. Edward's stare at Collin had made it clear he held an interest for Mary, and as soon as she had gone he left too, satisfied in his irritating Collin, who was helpless to his implying he would become acquainted with Mary again.
Collin was left with Eliza, Caroline had left a while ago, feeling stupid and ignored she sought to seek the attention of someone else. Eliza smiled and attempted to make conversation with her friend's cousin, but the circumstances of her shyness and extended by Collin's icy glare made it impossible.
Mary returned cautiously into the room after sitting in the corridor for a while. She thanked the numerous people who came forward and told her how splendid and excellent she was. Eventually her Uncle found her. He made her step into the crowd to make adieu with Eliza. And, Mary was glad he had.
Mary hugged Eliza much more tightly than either of them anticipated. She spoke again with Eliza's parents.
"If you should ever want to come visit Mary, Eliza, all you need do is write her." Eliza and her parents thanked him graciously for the offer.
"Perhaps you can finally see my garden." Her Uncle smiled as she said it, and Eliza's eyes grew wide. After they had become close friends, Mary had told her about the secret garden, but Eliza, who now knew Mary's character, knew Mary had left out some crucial key element. Mary had spoken with such a poetic, magical tone, there had to be something more than simply roses and other flowers.
Of course Mary had not shared the most important part of the garden with Eliza. It was too painful for her, it was private. And at that thought, Mary felt sick, she would be leaving to return to Misselthwaite Manor in the morning, and that meant facing everything, everyone, again. Eliza's kind smile comforted Mary as they said their final goodbye.
The townhouse her uncle owned and they were staying in for the night was every bit as wealthy as Misselthwaite, but it seemed more modern. Mary wasn't quite sure what to make of it. She retired to the room which her uncle had given to her, and worn out by the course of the evening, tried to get to sleep, pushing that worrying thought to the back of her mind.
Mary woke, slightly disorientated, it took a moment for her to remember that she was on longer in her room at HartCroft Park, and that Eliza was not sleeping in a bed to her right. Mary got up and brushed her hair as she watched the sunrise. She hadn't expected to rise quite so early. She enjoyed the beauty of the Sun peaking up over the buildings and distant hills, the rays splaying through the many streets, lighting with its touch the places which had been so dark just moments ago.
She dressed in a simple green travelling dress, leaving her hair down. She hurried down to breakfast, and was enjoying a hot cup of tea when her uncle joined her. She decided she liked the comfortable silence they were in, his presence was a comfort, but he wasn't interrupting her thoughts. Before the clock struck nine they were off.
Collin had been invited some event the following week, and so was remaining in town. Lord Craven had placed an old servant to keep an eye on him, and had made sure there was a suitable doctor, should his son needed to be attended to. Mary was secretly relieved that she would not have to endure his company for the week's journey back to Misselthwaite manor. She sat in the carriage, her uncle opposite her, nose stuck in a book.
There was a pile in a sack on the floor. Mary wondered what could possibly engross her uncle so absorbingly.
"Might I read one?" She asked.
"Young Ladies do not enjoy Literature from what I understand." He had lifted the top half of his face over the old leather covered book.
"I am not Young Ladies. I am Mary." She replied, steadily holding his gaze.
"In that case help yourself. And I think you shall find them a very good read, a decent way to have wasted your time." He broke out into a smile, and returned to his own book after curiously watching his niece pick one from the sack.
There were chronicles from some Ancient Greek legend or battle, and so Mary chose them, and beginning with volume one, she began to read and quickly became as engulfed in the world of her book as her uncle was his. They stopped in the evenings, where they slept and ate and had a little time to take walks and relaxed their stiffened legs. Reading took up an extensive amount of their time, and Mary barely noticed as the days flew past.
"You look so much like your Aunt." Mary, looking up from her book stared at her uncle. He had a loving expression on his face. It was the most gracious compliment she had ever received. And she felt honoured and, if truth be told, a little unworthy of it.
"Aren't we stopping?" She closed volume two of the Greek chronicles, looking out the window at the blackness. She couldn't see anything.
"James seems to think we can cut our journey down a day if we go through the night. We should be home by evening tomorrow now. Clever isn't he?" Archibald smiled at the name of their driver, James. Mary tried to collect herself and not break out into a stupid, pointless panic. They would be arriving a day earlier than she thought, it didn't matter. She had already resounded to herself that she would not reveal any emotion, and indeed would attempt to even not feel any emotion, as foolish as it was, towards him.
James was very resourceful, and they made their way down the steep hill and onto the road that wound its way through the moors in morning. He gave the horses a final push, and they were slowing down onto cobbled ground, Misselthwaite Manor towering above them, just after noon.
A servant stepped forward, and the whole household it seemed, were stood out the front of the main entrance, waiting to meet their Lord and welcome his niece home. The servant opened the black door of the carriage as Lord Craven stepped out. The servant then shuffled forward and offered to help Mary out of the carriage. She smiled to him as she stepped out.
Her uncle's Manor still left her in a sense of awe. She looked up at its old, grey stone walls, still strong. She wondered how long it would stand for. It would certainly outlive her and future generations, as it already had her uncle's ancestors. Mrs Medlock stepped forward to greet them, and she clutched a handkerchief in her hand which was pressed against her chest.
"Well I never… the day I see Mary Lennox as a Lady." She said, although her first impression of Mary had been very bad, and partly misjudged, and she had never gained the same attachment for Mary she had for Collin, she was glad there was someone here she could tend to. Collin so often spent his time in town now, especially since Lord Craven had bought that damned townhouse. The return of Mary would mean at least she could fulfil the duties of her job, and have somebody to fuss over.
"Mrs Medlock how have thing been while I was away? Oh James, feel free to be excused, someone else can tend to the horses." He excused James, who had been driving the carriage all through the night and had succeeded in cutting down their journey by a day and a half. He knew the master was not keen on travelling, no matter how often he did it. Lord craven turned to walk into the house, Mrs Medlock and the household following him.
Mary turned to James. She had grown to like him. When she hadn't been reading, she had been sitting at the front with him, and he had shown her how the horses responded and how smart they were. He had pointed out various landscapes and spoken of his wife and two children he had at home. Mary had listened contentedly, and it brought a smile to her lips whenever James had spoken of his wife or children. He had been grateful for her company and kindness. He knew he had landed it lucky when he joined the staff of Misselthwaite Manor. Lord Craven had an air of kindness to his household, which was rare among any master, let alone a Lord.
And James was happy to see that the kindness and easy manner was extended to his niece. It made work all the more pleasurable. Not that he'd complain if his work wasn't like that, work was work. But he was still appreciative and grateful that his employees possessed such traits.
"Will you be seeing your little ones now?" She still had the book cradled in her arm. It made James smile.
"Yes My Lady." Mary, taken-aback by the way in which he addressed her, quickly collected herself. She knew he meant it as a sign of respect, and would not throw a compliment from such a good man away, no matter what his status, James was a good man.
"I have dolls which were given to me for my birthday one year. I have to admit I've never been fond of dolls. I was going to give them away since they've hardly been used. Would your little girl be interested in giving them a more enjoyable home? They would not have one with me." James couldn't help but chuckle at the characterization of the dolls. But he hesitated.
Mary, after realising this, pressed further, she had forgotten about the status which divided them, and felt like a snob herself, making a charity, even though that was not what her intentions had been.
"I do not expect payment. And I did not mean it as an act of charity. It was simply an offer. I really have no liking for dolls, they unnerve me. It is simply… well an act." She finished, not quite sure how to voice her thoughts into words.
"I would be grateful My Lady. I am sure my little Lucy would love to have a gift." Mary smiled.
"I will sort through my luggage and give them to you tomorrow. Or whenever you are next here." She added, remembering that James did not live in the Manor, but in the village at the bottom of the hill and across the fields.
"Thank you My Lady." He bowed.
"Are you certain I haven't offended you? Because I really didn't mean to..." She began.
"No My Lady, I am thankful to you for thinking of my family so kindly."
"If you're sure." She frowned, not entirely believing him. They said goodbyes, and she felt awkward as he waited for a dismissal. Deciding she couldn't leave things on such a formal note with somebody she considered a friend she called goodbye after him, waving.
She turned back around, a smile on her face. She looked up to see a servant tending to the horses. He was young and handsome. He patted the horses with an extraordinary kindness and respect. His large hands soothed the magnificent animals in front of him. But his attention wasn't fixed on them, it was on her. He had been listening to her and James. His face was as familiar as her own was to her, and even though he had aged and grown, and even become a little more wise, he was still the same.
As their eyes locked, Mary's heart quickened and she stood frozen; feelings and emotions taking over her. As she allowed her thoughts to catch up with her, tears sprung to her eyes and her ears rang with a deafening high pitch sound. She almost bit her lip. She was furious with herself. How could she, after all the pain she had suffered, and worthlessness she had felt, feel this way about him? She was angry at herself for being caught unguarded, as emotions returned to her that she had felt so long ago but had been too young to understand.
She knew it was stupid, and she couldn't stop herself from feeling. But, she wished she could and she as almost disappointed at herself because she had become perfect at masking herself at HartCroft, why was she unable to do it now?
She swallowed, her mouth dry and head spinning. It took all of her will power not to look at the features on his face, to drink in every detail, to stare at his lean figure, his broad shoulders and torso, his rich brown wavy hair. It took every ounce of her not to take a step forward, a step toward him. So she simply stood there, on the spot, frozen like prey who had caught a scent of danger.
Eyes bore back into hers, and she knew she would see them even when she shut her eyes, even when he was no longer standing in front of her. He had taught her priceless things, but, had betrayed everything he taught her. He had broken her when she was already so fragile from her parents' neglect. As a result she had become irresponsive and numb.
So many thoughts swirled around in her head and she felt an overpowering sense of nausea and dizziness. Why was she so confused? She had not expected that. To feel so torn. She had expected she would be raged at seeing him, a disgust, an unforgivable and unredeemable grudge. But not this. She couldn't even speak, and even when her thought said that one word in her head, she could hear the confusion, uncertainty, the fear.
Dickon.