Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: So many things to do, so little time to do them, and yet here I am writing Secret Garden fanfiction. Again. *Sigh*
The proper study of mankind is woman.
Henry B. Adams
Colin was a good student.
He'd kept his childhood vow to become a scholar and at fifteen was the top of his class, competing for academic honors with boys several years his senior. He knew how to solve for x and what made things grow and who had won all the important battles of the last two thousand years. He knew the names of the stars and the stories behind them. He could quote Shakespeare and Aristotle. He knew virtually every kind of tree, rock, shrub and flower than could be found in England by sight.
He knew about magic.
Granted, many of things he'd once thought were magic were really just nature or science. But not all of them. Not Mary.
Mary was still magic, would be magic forever. There was no point in thinking about it any other way. No science in the world could explain what made her special. It wasn't something that could be taught or learned. It couldn't be rationalized or quantified or explained.
It could, however, be observed.
Colin loved observing.
His rare holidays from school were spent trailing in her wake like a particularly large baby duck, following her around as she went about her business until propriety demanded that he make himself scarce. She didn't seem to mind his watching, accepting his company in a typically Mary way. Which meant, of course, that she chided him for being a nuisance and then put him to work in the garden.
Being put to work in the garden was far from a punishment. Besides his own fondness for the place it was also one of his favorite places to observe her. She was always happiest there, less guarded. It made for an interesting study.
She smiled brighter, dimples flashing coyly at the corners of her mouth, her expression soft and relaxed. Shoes were taken off, stockings were abandoned, sleeves were rolled up. Her hair, usually contained in a proper bun or hidden under a hat, was freed and tumbled intriguingly over her slim shoulders. Exertion left her cheeks rosy. Her lips were bitten red in concentration. The dress she wore was an old one and had grown a bit too tight to be entirely proper for company and every time she leaned forward it hiked just a little farther up her legs . . .
Colin was a good student.
A/N: Just another plot bunny that randomly attacked me in the middle of the night. : ) Please don't hesitate to tell me what you think of it. I have no fear of constructive criticism and all reviews are appreciated and adored.