Under the Same Stars
I dunna own the wonderful characters or the story created by the amazing Frances Hodgson Burnett.
The Beginning in the End
~~~o*o~~~
The train whistle blew, punctuating her sense of dread as the man beside her boarded the locomotive. She bowed her head and looked up pleadingly towards him. At times like this she really wished she didn't have to look so high up to meet his gaze. Looking up was all she could do since he had turned 13.
"No," he said somewhat exasperated.
Her face twisted into a pout. She may have been on the verge of turning 16, in training to become a proper young lady, but she was not above extorting him with guilt so that he would reconsider. "It's not too late, I could tell uncle—"
"Mary, no," he said again, mirroring the intensity of her gaze.
Her brows knotted at his stubbornness. If there were anyone in Britain as stubborn as she, it had to be the man in front of her. "Colin," she began.
"Mary," he mimicked.
She grew angry, this was not something to joke about. This was serious and he was being ridiculous. "Please, Colin. Won't you just come with me?"
"I am going with you," he smiled as he extended a hand down to her. "Better hurry too, else you want the train to leave you here."
"You know what I meant," she said begrudgingly taking his hand and shoving past him. He allowed himself a little smirk as he saw her plop down into a seat in the first class cabin. She may have already looked the part of a proper lady of society, but no amount of finishing school would ever stop Mary Lennox from being Mary Lennox.
He calmly took the seat across from her and with all the patience in the world took off his coat, took off his hat, set them both down beside him, then from his case took out his Chemistry book and began to read it.
"Colin," she said finally at the end of her patience, "Uncle said he wanted us both to go home. He wants you to stay at Misselthwaite, not just accompany me back."
"You're not going to draw me back into this argument Mary. You know why I can't stay there," he said not looking up from his book.
The train began to lurch forward as she pursed her lips in a very 'Medlock' way. "You most certainly can stay there. You just don't want to."
He gave a shrug. "Well, yes, I suppose that's true."
"But you'd be safe there Colin!"
He sighed and set his book down. "Mary, what am I supposed to accomplish locked away back home when I could be doing something of actual benefit back here in London? What would you have me do back at Misselthwaite?"
She rolled her eyes and huffed. Colin and his sense of righteousness. But she knew from his particular choice of words that Misselthwaite would always hold some sense of confinement for him. Even if the Garden had set him free and the moor had let him explore his new found independence, he had tasted the outside world. Mary knew he was far too smart and far too adventurous for Twaite now. Still…
"You do realize I'm not just being pigheaded for the fun of bantering, right? I'm honestly scared for you Colin. I mean, you could always come back to London. Lots of people are leaving. Maybe even some of your professors."
"Not the good ones," he defended. "I already wasted half of my life doing nothing in that house Mary. I'm not going to wait for a war to end to get on with my life now too."
She bit the inside of her lip, knowing there was little she could say to that. "I just thought, the three of us would finally be together again."
Colin spared her a withering glance. If she did this on purpose, she was a bloody genius. "The world is a very different place than it was just 2 years ago dear cousin. And I'm not just talking about the Great War. We're... not kids anymore Mary."
She looked away and he panicked slightly at the sight of moisture in her eyes. He hadn't meant to make her feel bad. He knew that despite being stubborn and pouty about it, she was genuinely concerned about him staying in London. The last air raid had left many civilians injured. After the news his father wasted no time in writing them both to request they come home for their safety. Well, it was written as a request, but it felt more like an ordinance. Mary had jumped at the chance to go back home.
Proper education and presentation into society was what was expected of young adults like Mary and himself, but he knew she missed the moor and the garden, all her friends in the staff, and of course she missed Dickon. They had only been in London for a little over 2 years, but in that time he'd come to understand that no matter how similar he and Mary were in spirit and manner, they viewed the world in very different ways. Colin felt like running away was not the answer. The world was meant to be explored and he could not do that from Misselthwaite.
He told his father he would see Mary back home safe, and possibly stay for a week, but afterwards, he would go back to his studies. His father had not been too pleased, but he was surprisingly understanding at Colin's request. More so than Mary anyway.
The thought of not being able to see her anymore weighed him down too, but he knew this was probably best for them both. After all, even if he had grown out his innocent infatuation for his cousin not too long ago, he was not too keen about seeing her and Dickon dance around each other all dopey-eyed day in and day out trying to figure out what everyone else already knew about them.
Still, even if it was his own decision, it didn't make being away from Mary any less wretched. "We are never really apart Mary. You made sure of that before we left, remember? I'll write to you every week, just like Dickon does."
She huffed and kept her gaze on the passing scenery outside. The summer before she and Colin were sent off to London, Mary made sure to spend as much time teaching Dickon proper calligraphy and making him promise he would write to both of them at least twice a month when they were away. Even Colin helped with some of the lessons, mostly because he was a stickler for spelling and punctuation. And true to his word, Dickon wrote not once every 2 weeks, but once a week. Every Monday, the post would come in with his scratchy handwriting printed on an envelope.
Mary was always delighted to read the short, colloquial stories he had to tell, but it was a poor substitute for having him nearby. A letter could not convey the smile in his voice, or that wonderful sparkle of his eyes. Still, the thought of Colin writing to her every week did ease her discontent about him staying behind, if only slightly.
"You had better write to me every week, or I will come down and fetch you and drag you back home if I need to."
He smiled, knowing a threat like that was not an empty one when spoken by his cousin. "I promise."
She relaxed visibly and looked up at him with a softer expression. "Did you bring anything for me?" she asked sweetly.
He arched a brow at the many shades of Mary Lennox. She smiled at the look of amusement on his features, then clapped as he produced a book from his pouch.
"You're lucky I have biology this term," he said handing her the botany text.
She paid him no mind, already nose deep in his book. He smiled.
~~*o*~~
Dickon looked at the letter and re-read it. Then he read it again. And then again a fourth time. He had been quick to learn his letters as a boy. A knowledge that Mary had expanded on upon her imminent move to London, insisting that he improve his calligraphy and vocabulary to remain in contact with the cousins while they were away.
Writing to her these last two years had been something between heartbreak and bliss. Knowing she was there through her lovely calligraphy, still interested in him and the garden and Misselthwaite, was wonderful. But the distance ached. Everywhere and all the time. He hadn't realized how much of himself she held until she was gone. And so he had hoped he could feel complete again when he learned of her return. But now, not days after the wonderful news, his joy had been cut away by the harsh reality of a world so far away from his own, and that one awful word he had to read several times before accepting what it entailed...
Conscripted.
He knew now that it had been the right thing to do to read the letter by himself. It was odd that he get correspondence from anyone other than Mary. And this letter looked too formal to be addressed to someone like him, until he saw the reason. It didn't make any sense though. Master Craven had told him that he was too young, that he shouldn't worry. But here was that letter, with that word, and a date.
A terrifyingly short limit to how long he had with his family, and with Mary.
"Dickon."
He hadn't even heard his mother come into the stable. He was quick to hide the letter, but when he looked up to her face he knew it was pointless to try and hide what she already knew.
"How long?" she asked shakily.
Sadness looked so wrong on his mother's face.
"Three weeks, just 'bout."
The effort she put into not crying was astonishing. Even more that she managed a smile. "Then tha'll get t' see Mary before leavin'."
Something painful tugged inside him at the mention of her name. "Aye."
~~*o*~~
She could hardly contain herself when the carriage slowly pulled up to the front steps of Misselthwaite. She was absentmindedly aware that Colin was smirking at her, making fun of her jittery disposition no doubt. She didn't care. She would see her uncle soon, and Martha, and Ben, and even Medlock. But the jitters had little to do with them. She knew better, even if it was odd to admit.
She had been on the lookout for him since they entered the moor, and was sure that if he hadn't been out riding she would find him with the staff waiting to receive her. Colin opened the carriage door and extended a hand out for his cousin.
Imagine her disappointment when the only smiling faces she saw were Martha and Mrs. Medlock's.
"Master Colin," Mrs. Medlock beamed, not bothering to suppress the motherly affection she had for the young man who greeted her politely. "You look so dashing."
"It's good to see you Mrs. Medlock," he returned her smile.
"Miss Mary!" Martha, ever oblivious to the social conventions of the different classes took Mary into a big hug and giggled upon their embrace.
"Martha, you haven't changed a bit!" Mary, not much for social conventions herself, gave Martha a peck on the cheek, ready for Medlock's reprimand. But the elder woman could only smile down at the two girls and their obvious delight in one another.
"You look lovely Miss Mary," Mrs. Medlock greeted appreciatively.
"Thank you Mrs. Medlock. You look quite well yourself."
She turned back to Martha who was being greeted by a kiss on the hand from Colin. Mary smiled at the blush on the older girl's cheeks and finally asked her friend the question that had been bouncing in her since stepping onto the grounds.
"Martha," Mary began, "Is Dickon well? Is he on the grounds today?"
Colin good-naturedly rolled his eyes at his cousin's impatience. "For God's sake Mary, he's probably working. He'll come see you soon enough. Don't you think we should greet my father first?"
But both Mary and Colin caught the fleeting look of discomfort between Martha and Medlock as silence suddenly hung over them.
"He is doing well though?" Colin asked again feeling Mary tense up beside him. "Out working?"
"Of course," Mrs. Medlock said rapidly. "He should be out with Ben right now. He'll probably come see you after his chores. Now Master Colin is right, his Lordship awaits you both."
Mary looked at Martha who had remained strangely quite when asked about her brother and she gave Mary an uncertain smile and a slight nod. Mary looked to Colin who confirmed that something odd was definitely going on. As he led her into the house he gave her hand a light squeeze letting her know that they would find out as soon as they were done with his father. Mary smiled and tried to push away the strange dread that had crept into her stomach. Medlock had said he was fine. He was fine.
~~*o*~~
The meeting with her uncle was interminable. At least it seemed that way. It felt like the greetings took forever, Colin had a lot to say about his time in London and his uncle kept asking her about hers as well. In truth she also had lots to tell him, but every second that passed was one more that she didn't know what was happening with Dickon.
Just when she thought they would be excused the argument began between her cousin and her uncle about him staying again. When her uncle turned on her to ask for an opinion it was Colin who said it might be better if she left them alone for a while. She was grateful for the reprieve. Although she would talk to her uncle about him later.
Once out of the room she flew downstairs in a very un-lady like fashion and took the back entrance out to the moor. The staff she passed on the way seemed very happy to see her return. She would greet them all properly later, for now all she offered on her way out was a big smile and a "thank you!" for their fleeting compliments.
The first place she checked was the garden of course. Stepping through the ivy covered door was like stepping into the past, and for a few fleeting moments, she forgot all about her urgency and dread. She smiled seeing the summer blooms, breathing in the smell of life. How she had missed her garden.
Dickon was not inside, she realized after a quick walkthrough. She knew she ought to go find him, but she was sure it would be ok to stay here just a bit longer before continuing her search. After all, she needed to say hello here as well. She sat on the swing with a sense of pleasant nostalgia.
Two years didn't really sound like a long time, but they'd felt like it. She had gone to London with Colin because it was what was expected of her, of someone of her station. She had not wanted to go. Not at all. But she was not about to dishonor the wishes of her uncle when he had done so much for her. Her uncle Archie would have been more than thrilled to have her marry some rich beau and have a life deserving of a "lovely young lady".
What nonsense. The prospects she had met in London seemed all to be cut from the same arrogant close-minded cloth. Their conversations revolved around only one thing. The most interesting thing in the world to them: themselves.
She only agreed to go to London with the promise that Misselthwaite would still be open to her after her schooling. Her uncle seemed as touched as he was exasperated, "This will always be your home Mary, but don't you want something more than Misslethwaite?" he'd asked, but agreed none the less. Mary knew better. She could not be what society and her uncle expected her to be. She had decided long ago that she would not grow up to be her mother. Not after meeting people like Martha, and Ben, and Dickon.
"Mary, Mary quite contrary," she chided herself.
Her uncle would no doubt have a fit if he knew that she aspired to be more like the servants at Twaite than high class citizens of London. She didn't care. That love that they seemed to feel for people, and nature, and life, it was so much more fulfilling than expensive jewelry, pretty dresses, and fancy parties.
"How does your garden grow?" asked a voice she almost didn't recognize.
She hadn't even noticed when he got so close. For a second as she looked into his eyes, she could have sworn that absolutely nothing had changed. She had left for London when he was 16. Back then, his body was still trying to catch up with his sudden leap of stature. Apparently it had caught up quite... well. She blushed at the things that occurred to her. For God's sake, this was Dickon. Wonderful, smiling, healthy,
"Dickon!"
She jumped off the swing almost too quickly for her legs. It didn't matter, she knew he would be there to catch her if she fell.
Whatever he was about to say was knocked out of him as she crashed against him. The smell of her hair was almost enough to loose himself in. She smelled like... he didn't know. But it was right and beautiful and magic. The feel of her body against his though was enough to snap him out of his blissful lack of shame. He definitely had to stop that before...
He pulled away and tried to smile. "Tha'll get dirt on thy dress Miss Mary. I'm all filthy."
She looked up to him sadly. "But tha smells like home Dickon. I missed thee so."
That was it, he thought forlornly. That's what she had smelled like as well. "S'wonderful t' see thee."
He stopped her when she made to hug him again and could only offer an apologetic smile. "I was sent to fetch thee. Mrs. Medlock wants tha to speak to Colin."
He stepped away from her and started heading for the door of the garden. She stood rooted to the spot, not sure why she was feeling so cold all of a sudden. He stopped and waited for her at the base of the small knoll. What was wrong with her? He was being a perfect gentleman. They were not children anymore. Even before she left he had taken to being less physical with her. "Thank goodness that boy is proper enough for the both of you!" Mrs. Medlock had told her once.
She frowned. Yes... thank goodness.
She lifted her skirts and joined him at the bottom of the hill. "How are you Dickon?" she asked as they walked through the garden together. "I can't believe I'm back home."
He smiled but did not look at her. Very unlike the Dickon. "Tis wonderful t' have thee back."
"Are you well?" she asked again, not missing that he had avoided her question completely.
"Aye, fit as a fiddle," he took her hand and began to lead her up the stairs to the door. She ignored how much she enjoyed his hand around hers as they climbed up. At the door he let her step through but she stopped when he did not join her.
"Tha'll forgive me Miss Mary, but I've much work t' finish afore twilight. It was lovely t' see thee."
"What—?"
He ignored the shocked hurt look on her face as he closed the garden door between them. He clenched his teeth, took a deep breath and set his head down over the large iron door. This was a lot harder than he thought it would be. But he just had to resist 10 more days.
She couldn't move. She could barely breathe. It seemed like he had just kicked her out of her own garden. It felt like he had did not want to be with her. Had he grown out of the affection they shared when they were younger? Was she just another wealthy mistress to him now? Was there a reason for this distance from her or had things simply run their course, the magic of their childhood having vanished after 2 years? But no, it didn't make sense. In his letters he was always so- well more affectionate than he had just been. How silly was that?
His eyes were different, she realized. What little she had seen of them seemed, different. Her eyes itched and she shook her head at the silliness of it all. She should stop being so childish.
~~~o*o~~~
Well, I just went on a Secret Garden binge, read the book, saw the 93 movie and even snippets from the old Hallmark one. It's safe to say I'm on a Secret Garden high and this fic is the result. A word of caution though. I have absolutely no idea where this fic is going. I mean, don't get me wrong, I have clear ideas for the story that I will eventually cement. And I have done my research about the war and the era so that I am comfortable with writing it accurately. I'm just not clear on how or when or where it will all eventually lead. So… proceed at your own risk.
Also, you should know that this might be a mesh of the Book and the 1993 movie. Probably weighted a bit more towards the book, but both contain things I adore about this couple. So, I promise I'll be careful about not putting in anything that contradicts either story. So yeah. Hope you enjoyed!
Reviews are greatly GREATLY appreciated. I apologize beforehand if I butcher Dickon's accent. :/