Alright here's a longer chapter, but it's my favourite one so I hope you enjoy it. And if you're going to review any chapter in my story, please make it this one. I tried to make it perfect, but that didn't work out, so I'd like any criticism you've got =]
xxx
Dread. Apprehension. Self pity. Repressed desire. Hopelessness. Helplessness. Misery. None of these feelings were ever nice ones, and Mary was going through them all at once as she tried to force herself asleep.
Colin had left around noon, and he still wasn't back. Mary knew that this was likely not a good sign, and that was where her dread came from. She also knew that he might burst into her room any minute and announce that Lizzy had died. That was the apprehension.
Her self pity was a result of repressed desire. She was in love with a boy who was barred from her by convention, society and her cousin. And the worst part of it all was... he didn't even seem to realize what he was doing to her. Dickon didn't even know that she loved him.
She'd almost lost all hope that things would somehow sort themselves out; there was just no way. Dickon was a gardener, and she, despite her deepest wishes, was a young lady of high society. Not only that, but a young lady of high society who, in a matter of days, would be attending her own ball to choose a groom from a selection of stuffy young pansies. And there was nothing she could do about it. Hence the helplessness and misery.
These were the thoughts that turned over and over in Mary's mind as she tried to get some sleep. But she soon found that all effort was futile.
Sitting up, she idly looked around her room. It was just as stuffy and respectable as any other lady's room, and it stifled her. It seemed to be telling her that she'd soon become just like other young ladies, and just like her mother; proper, sociable and heartless. Mary couldn't take it.
So, she slipped out of bed, pulled on a warm dress on top of her night gown, and some boots. Then she tip-toed out of the ever gloomy manor and into the night.
Her first thought, as she looked around the moor at night, was that it was amazingly bright. The moon was nearly full and glowing, and she could see more than double the amount of stars that she'd ever been able to see in London.
The night sky calmed her, as did the cool air against her flushed cheeks. Drinking it all in as she went, Mary walked to her garden.
She chose to go there more from habit than anything else, but when she reached the secret garden, she instantly knew why she'd come: it was the Magic. She could feel it that night, strong as it had been the day she'd first unlocked the ivy covered door.
As she entered the garden, Mary felt as if she was in some sort of wonderful trance; she felt a sort of peace and clarity she'd been unable to find inside. She was home.
The good feelings did not last, though. Her troubles quickly caught up with her, and Mary soon found herself pouring her heart out to an audience composed of just the flowers and trees:
"I - I don't know if there truly is any Magic here, or if I've become to old to understand it" she began uncertainly, "But I really need any help I can get right now. Dickon's sister Lizzy – she's come here a few times to help the flowers grow – well, she's sick. Very sick; she might die. Actually, Colin is almost certain of it. He's… he's really changed. I hardly know him anymore, and he seems as though he's been trying to forget me, as if I were just an obligation. And it really hurts, when he only talks to me when it's absolutely unavoidable, and I don't know how to please him. If I tried, I'd lose myself, and I'd lose all hope of being with Dickon. I'm… well, I'm completely in love with him, but I can't be. But I can't stop! Oh, please help me, I don't know what I 'm going to do…"
By this time, Mary had realized that she had been rambling, and stopped for breath. Then, with slightly damp eyes, she continued, "I'm going to be forced to marry some other man if I don't change things soon. I'll have to be a quiet, obedient wife and leave all I love behind. And Dickon will never even know… please, please help me. Please, please, please…"
Years later, Mary could never remember exactly when she had drifted off to sleep on one of the garden's benches. All she knew was that the last thing she had heard a serene voice whisper to her, "Do not worry…"
Or perhaps it had just been the wind wuthering.
xxx
Dickon had always loved walking on the moor at night. The sights, the sounds and even the smells were different at night, in their own subtle but beautiful way. He heard a hungry owl softly hooting as it flew over head, and the music of countless crickets chirping from their hideaways in the bushes.
With a soft smile, Dickon continued on.
He'd decided to give up his spot on a bed for Lou May, who would have had to sleep on the floor otherwise. She normally slept beside Lizzy, but now that was out of the question.
Mrs. Sowerby had protested when he'd left, offering him to take her own bed while she stayed awake, but Dickon had assured her that he wasn't at all tired. And that was absolutely true. For some reason, sleep had evaded him that night. So, here he was, going to the garden. Mary's garden.
When he finally reached there and opened the door, he was stunned by what he saw; Mary Lennox was fast asleep and lightly snoring, lying awkwardly on a rough wooden bench. Or at least, that's what any other person would have seen.
What Dickon saw was a beautiful fairy queen. Her bed was set against a backdrop of willowy rose trees in full bloom, and surrounded by fragrant wild flowers and rose bushes, whose beauty only added to her own. The silvery moonshine rendered her pale and ethereal with perfect dark waves of hair framing her face. Dickon felt as if he had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life.
He walked up to her even more reverently than he would have had he been approaching a robin's nest. Then he kneeled by her bench and gave in to the temptation to brush a stray strand of hair off her face. Her eyes opened.
"Dickon?"
He blushed, and Mary smiled; she'd never seen him look so embarrassed.
"Beggin' thy pardon, Miss Mary, I – I dinna mean to…er…" He ran a hand through his curls nervously.
Mary only smiled wider as she sat up, "Oh, don't worry, it's alright. I shouldn't have been here anyways."
"What was tha doin' out here so late, if tha doesna mind my askin' ?"
"I was…" Mary wasn't sure how to answer. What exactly had she been doing? "I was looking for Magic."
This made Dickon grin, as he took a seat beside her on the bench, "Well, didst tha find any?"
"I think I did…" she responded quietly, and Dickon's grin faded into a soft smile, " O' course tha did. The moor air breathes magic. That's what helps thy garden bloom as it does, and what helps the animals thrive here. Magic, just plain magic."
Mary smiled back at him. Then, not really caring how childish she sounded, she asked, "Dickon, are you magic?"
Grinning, he replied with, "I reckon we all are."
Mary shook her head; that wasn't what she meant. "But you're the only one who can talk to animals, and charm plants out of the ground, and my heart only beats faster when you're around. When you're around I… I feel safer, warmer, like I never want to leave. That must be magic, right?"
She was leaning towards him, her dark eyes locked on his. She gazed searchingly into his blue orbs, and finally saw her own feelings mirrored in them; he loved her.
Mary started to lean in closer, and slid her arms around his neck, but just before her mouth made contact with his, she heard him whisper, "Mary, I dinna think we should do this."
At that she merely smiled, and leaned in closer, murmuring, "I dinna think we can stop."
Now, saintly as Dickon tried to be, he was still a teenage boy. And when a teenage boy's crush whispers something sweet into his lips, he is never, ever able to resist her.
Dickon put his arms around Mary and pulled her closer.
For Mary, kissing Dickon was even better than she'd dreamed it'd be. His lips moved gently against hers, and his warm breath smelled like the moor. And when she tangled her fingers in his curls and pulled him even closer, he'd kissed her so passionately and insistently that she moaned his name into his mouth.
Then they broke apart, both quite breathless, and remained in each other's arms. Mary loved how he held her; tenderly, as if she were a delicate bird. Sighing with contentment, she rested her head on his shoulder.
His voice floated over to her as if from a dream, "Mary?"
"Mmmhmmm?"
"We could both get in some real trouble for doin' that."
She sighed, "I know. Do you regret it?"
"No. I couldn't."
"Neither could I."
"What are we goin' to do now?"
Mary considered this, and then smiled. She looked up and Dickon, and with a tone that was only partially teasing, she said, "We're going to marry."
Dickon laughed and held her tighter. Although she didn't know it, he'd dreamed of her saying that for years.
Then, all too soon, they both heard the manor's clock striking midnight, and decided that they both had better be going. But Mary knew that she would never forget that night, as she was completely certain that it had been the most magical one of her life.
