A/N: I caved to my persuasive reviewers and wrote more, and will continue a bit further…I think my version of Dickon has suffered a little because I have written the entire story from Mary's perspective, and so it's hard to justify his motivations for doing things the way he does (without seeing in his head). Hopefully this chapter shows him in better light. Colin has similarly been shoved to the background. However, the original book was all in Mary's perspective (with perhaps some omniscient elements here and there), and it just felt natural to do the same in this. This chapter is about how real life often intrudes when you least want it to.
Colin returned home in November. The days were getting shorter, and the north lands were gloomy. There was a cuttingly cold wind blowing persistently over the moor as Colin walked from his carriage into the manor, but the manor was warm and bright in a way that it had never been when he and Mary had been children.
To Mary's dismay, he had brought guests.
She was spared Serena, but had to endure hearing gushing greetings and words of affection brought from Serena to Mary by Serena's brother, who had somehow managed to avoid bringing her along.
Worse yet, Lord Ramsey was among the guests.
Mary had no doubt that he would avoid being alone with her and that his good breeding would make him act extremely polite to her—but she disliked him, and she wondered what effect his visit would have on Dickon.
Dickon and Mary had been courting for almost a month now, and Mary had never been happier or more secure in her hope for continued, lifelong happiness. Dickon was as eager to please as ever, only now he had gone from a kind-hearted, willing lad to a man who put himself out each day to think of new ways to further her happiness.
Their courtship was the talk of the village. Some disapproved (mainly young girls who had hoped that Dickon's elevation to near-gentry might elevate a wife he had known from his childhood in the village, and their mothers), but most saw it as a normal consequence of Mary being no fool, and Dickon having eyes.
The villagers thought Mary would make an excellent doctor's wife, or even a nurse, if she chose. Although she dressed in the same finery as the rest of her class, she had a decided, extremely English practicality and directness about her that reminded one old gent of the late Ben Weatherstaff, and she knew more about gardens than any gentlewoman had a right to. She was delightfully without snobbery, though she was wise enough not to accept just anyone into her society.
Mary was gentry without being a prig about it, and Dickon had really never been common. Men muttered to themselves that they'd always known such a willing, cheerful boy had been meant for better than their lot, and he'd been wise enough at twelve to make friends with that strange, bedridden Master Colin that had been, who they were all sure had bullied his father into educating his friend.
Mary was unaware of all this, and knew only that the glances of the villagers had gone from wary respect and veiled hostility to recognition and even pleasure when she appeared in their field of vision. Many of the farmers and gardeners would come to her with new seeds they had found success with, and questions about problems they were having. When she had first learned to love England as a child, being a part of English country life had been her dearest wish, and if her happiness was any indication, she had never really grown out of it.
As she prepared for dinner that night, she wished her cousin had more sense than to bring Lord Ramsey home without letting her know first. He could manage to understand complicated equations and chemical processes, but he could never seem to manage simple protocols for inviting guests—especially one's who had once offered to marry his cousin.
Dickon was coming to dinner, and she didn't know how he would react. She wished she could be certain that the new dimensions of their relationship would protect him from uncertainty and doubt, but she couldn't help but feel nervous that that might not be the case.
Dickon arrived dressed splendidly for dinner. Mary had not spent much time on her appearance as she had been too nervous, but he looked at her appreciatively nonetheless.
She greeted him at the door of the parlor and led him in, taking his arm gratefully. He had met many of the guests before, and he showed no special surprise or interest when he saw that Lord Ramsey was of the party. Mary stopped just short of breathing a sigh of relief. She knew now how things can go wrong if left alone, so she drew Dickon aside to ask him how he felt about Ramsey's presence.
"I'd rather he wasn't here, but I can hardly fault him for his taste in women," Dickon murmured close to her ear.
Mary shivered, wishing he was telling her something naughtier than his feelings about some man in that low rumble. "I'm very glad to see you here. You look wonderful," she replied.
"Perhaps we can sneak away to the garden later on tonight," Dickon said, "You, me and Colin."
Mary wrinkled her nose. She had almost been extremely interested in his idea, but Colin? "Why do you want Colin? If we bring Colin, we might as well stay in the house, where it's warm."
"Colin is your cousin and my dear friend," Dickon said innocently. Perhaps a little too innocently.
"You are joking, aren't you?" Mary asked. Her mouth curved upwards reluctantly.
Dickon smirked. "I need someone along to protect my virtue," he murmured.
Mary glared and his smirk became a full laugh, and then she gave up the fight and laughed along with him. That was one consequence of having her feelings for Dickon out in the open which she had not foreseen. She had never particularly liked being teased, but his teasing was never cruel, and only assured Mary of his confidence in her affection.
Colin approached with an apology for interrupting their tete a tete and began quizzing Dickon on village life and the practice he had taken over.
"It's a very prosperous practice in some ways, although sometimes the only payment I get is a chicken, or a fat hog, or fresh trout from the stream. I may never be rich, but my farm continues to grow and I will never be hungry," Dickon said.
"That sounds like a desirable situation for taking a wife and raising a family," Colin said.
Mary blushed. Although for years she had known she wanted to marry Dickon, now that they were following the slow and steady course laid out by her uncle and by Dickon himself, her cousin's talk of marriage and children seemed to be prematurely rushing them towards a particular destination. One she was quite willing to arrive at, but which, since the journey was so very pleasant, she felt no need to rush.
Dickon sidestepped the comment skillfully and asked Colin about his work. Mary had a vague understanding of what it entailed, but little real interest, so she let her eyes wander about the room.
The party was mostly gentlemen, although Allanby had brought his wife, a lovely, shy girl who had twice told Mary that she had not brought enough dresses for a week of dinners in such elevated company. Mary excused herself and went to offer the girl a dress to borrow for the following evening, when she was pulled aside and then into a dark hallway by Lord Ramsey.
"I stopped at the pub in the village. They tell me your handsome doctor's father is a coal miner. And his sister was a maid in this very house. And you refused me, who loves you more than I can say, for him?" he said. He was gripping her arm uncomfortably, but he spoke too softly for anyone else to hear, steps away in the parlor.
"They are a perfectly respectable family with whom my uncle has been acquainted with his whole life. Martha did go into service for a few years when I was a child to make extra money to help feed her brothers and sisters. I don't think there is shame in helping one's family," Mary said through gritted teeth.
"Indeed. Although I can't say I am personally acquainted with anyone who would go into a coal mine to support a family," he said. He abruptly released her arm.
"Dickon is a man I have known since I first arrived in England. I've known him even longer than I've known Colin. His father is a wonderful man who, in the past, had to work in the mines occasionally when the farm had a bad year. He had to go into the mine for years at a time to keep giving his children the life he feels they deserve. You see, not everyone in England was born a lord," she hissed.
"I'm not a fool, Mary, I know I was born into privilege. What I fail to see is how you could make such a foolish choice. You will not be received by anyone but the people in this village. You'll be a pariah from your own people," he said.
"A pariah? Please. If, for some reason, you are right about other people being as close-minded as you are, and I feel some sudden urge to be "received", I suppose we'll go to America, or Canada or Australia."
"I see you have an answer for everything," Lord Ramsey said darkly.
"I've always felt that perhaps I was a little bit too encouraging to you before, and I should apologize for flirting, and perhaps letting you think that I had tender feelings for you. I did not," Mary said.
Ramsey said nothing, but she saw the muscle in his jaw flex.
"You can't continue to pretend that your disgruntlement has anything to do with feelings for me. It was damaged pride which made you sore. And now finding out what you did about Dickon has convinced you that you're jealous, when really your pride has just taken another blow."
"Think of it this way, mate, if she loved me but had been convinced by your fancy title to marry you, would you even want her?" Dickon asked. Mary had never been so glad to see someone. He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. He looked incredibly handsome, the shadows emphasizing his features. His stance was relaxed but strangely hard, and Mary felt a thrill knowing he was taking care of her.
"Gentlemen do not eavesdrop," Ramsey said.
"Gentlemen do not accost gentlewomen and pull them into dark hallways to berate them about their romantic choices. And gentlemen keep an eye on women they are particularly fond of, and follow them to make sure they're alright when they're dragged off in what appeared to be a painful manner," Dickon said.
"I did not hurt her!" Ramsey said.
"I only said it appeared painful. Let's not bicker about it. They're about to go into dinner, Mary, and I believe I have the honor of escorting you in," Dickon said.
"Thank you," Mary said, taking his arm. Ramsey made no move to stop them as they moved away. Dickon's arm was firm and his grip strong, as if he suspected she might feel weak. "I'm alright. Just annoyed," she told him.
"I thought about saying nothing and waiting for the explosion, but then I thought about Colin wanting his party to go well, and about your reputation, and I thought I'd step in," Dickon said. Mary looked in his eyes, surprised. She noted they were smiling, though his lips were not.
"You weren't protecting me?"
"I'd charge a grizzly for you Mary, but I doubt you need my protection from the likes of him."
"Did you really think I was going to start yelling? But I was so good. I even apologized to the man," Mary said.
"Yes, and for flirting with him, which I suppose I would take issue with if you didn't look up so adoringly at me at every possible occasion. I had a feeling that if he didn't accept your apology, your apologies being so rare and highly prized by all who know you, you might have lost such control as you had displayed until that point."
"I fear you might be right," Mary said. She giggled and snuggled closer. They were about to be separated by the vast dinning room table. "Will you meet me later, in the garden?"
"When everyone else goes to bed, I'll be waiting. I'm walking home anyway. The moon was so bright last night it was like blue daylight, and it's the full moon tonight. The full moon on a clear night means cool air. Bring a shawl," he said.
"I'll be running, and then I'll be with you," she said.
"And we shall have a few moments together, and then you'll run back to your bed to dream of me," he said as he pulled out her chair.
"I hope so. All my favorite dreams are of you," she whispered, and she sat down.