"I'm very proud of you, Colin. I had never thought this day would come."
Colin glowed at his father's words of approval. He had imagined receiving love and attention, but the way Lord Craven looked at him, as if he was a grown man, was better than anything he could have wished for.
"I think that it is best that you stay at home until next September; I would not want to send you to school until I am assured of your health." Colin looked disappointed – he was eager to see more of the world and make up for the time he had missed. But Lord Craven had not finished.
"But Mary is ready to go. I will begin enquiries soon."
"What?" Mary's face was filled with shock. "I'm not to go to school, surely? You said I need not!"
"I said that you would remain until you had built up your strength, Mary. You must have known that you would not be staying here forever."
Mary's lips thinned and her hands curled into fists. "I do not see why I need go to school. I am quite happy here."
"I am rather surprised. You must have been keen to learn in the past – you certainly would not have learned to read and write in India unless you had chosen to do so. What has happened to you?"
Mary went rather pale at his words. It was true – she had loved to read in the past, and now she could not remember when she had last picked up a book. When she and Colin had found the magnificent library on one of the rainy days, she had felt not a flicker of interest. She suddenly felt rather insecure; while Mary of Yorkshire was certainly a far nicer creature than Mary of India, it was unsettling to think that she had changed so entirely.
"Mary," Lord Craven continued. "I am very fond of Dickon and grateful for all the help he gave to the two of you. But I am concerned that spending so much time with him had led you to discount the value of all the advantages of higher society. I am not referring to things like pretty dresses and money, but truly important things like culture and education. It is time for you to learn to appreciate such things again."
Mary looked at Colin for help, but he was lost in a world of his own. "Can I think a little on what you have said, sir? I am rather confused."
Lord Craven gave a faint smile and nodded his dismissal. Mary fled for the gardens to think.
When she got there she burst into tears and climbed up into Mrs Craven's tree to clear her head. Her spinning thoughts were rudely interrupted.
"Tha' knows I dinna like thee to be in yon tree." Dickon's voice floated up, a touch sharper than usual. "Tha's getting fatter an' it moan when tha' climbs up. I'm afeard it will break again."
Mary scowled, but climbed down – Dickon's suggestions were usually worth listening to. She squatted by the pond and ran her fingers through the water.
"What ails thee, Miss Mary? I've not seen yon look on thy face for some time."
"Nothing, Dickon. You wouldn't understand."
Her petulant tone washed over Dickon without impact. He nodded and looked away; she knew that whether she brought up the topic now, tomorrow or a month later, he would act as if there were no break in the conversation at all.
"My uncle says I'm to go to school."
"And tha's not pleased?"
"I'm not sure. He said something rather odd, and now I'm confused."
Dickon said nothing, waiting for her to finish her thought.
"He said that I used to like to read and study in India, and he wondered why I did not now?"
Dickon gave a wide smile. "Eh, Mother says she thought so. She said it wasna possible for a body to be so still so long, and mebbe tha'd enjoyed th' book-learnin' afore tha' came here."
"She said that?"
"Aye. She says as a body needs a mix o' all good things if it's to be truly wick, but it canna survive wi' no good things at all."
"Dickon, if your mother thinks book-learning is so important, why have you not learned?"
"Eh, Miss Mary, book-learnin' is for them as will use it. Tha' needs it if tha's to be a lady, but there be no reason for Father to spend all his wages to learn letters to all o' us as will go out an' work soon."
"I don't see what that has to do with it. I never planned to be a lady in India – I still don't."
"It matters because tha' parents wanted thee to be a lady, and they gave th' money for thee to learn it. It just be lucky that th' readin' pleased thee, but I think tha'd have had to learn it in th' end."
"That's all very well, but you and Martha and your mother seem far happier than anyone I've met who can read. I can stay here and read for fun; I don't need to go to school."
Dickon sighed. "Once, Father came home in a bad temper. Somethin' unfair happened at work and he was shoutin' an' complainin' about how th' rich men rule th' world an' care nowt for folks like him. Mother listened t' him a little while, an' then she says summat graidely. She talked about Mester Craven an' says that he has fact'ries what make clothes an' tools an' thin's, and if there wasna men like him there'd be thousands o' men wi'out work and thousands o' children what have nowt t' eat. She says it needs a clever man to put together all those people an' make all those thin's, an' that th' world's a better place when people have clothes and jobs. An' then she asks Father if he thinks it'd be better if th' rich men all disappeared and all our friends had no work an' no food, would he be happy then? I didna unnerstand what Mother talked about, but I unnerstand now that I know thee an' Mester Colin better, an' it's a graidely thin' that tha' can learn thy letters an' help so many people, Miss Mary."
This was a very long speech for Dickon, and Mary was more confused than ever. She had never thought much about the class distinction between her and Dickon; her pretty skirts and his patched shirts looked much the same when they were covered with mud. She stared at him, trying to find her simple, faithful friend, but could only see another complication to a life that had become so carefree and joyful. She geared up to run again; she longed to remain outside, but the manor was the only place Dickon would not follow her, and she really needed to be alone to think about her fast-approaching destiny.