Title: Those Qualities Upon Which Friendship Lives
Author: Mena
Contact Info:
Twitter: LJMomo Yahoo: aquietconscience AIM: aquietconscience (Feel free to IM me when I'm on and introduce yourself!)
Summary: Mary returns to Misselthwaite Manor from boarding school in London more of a lady than ever and Dickon sees her in a new light -- the problem is, so does Colin.
Ship: Mary/Dickon
Disclaimer: The characters in this story were created by Frances Hodgson Burnett and published in 1911 as "The Secret Garden". I do not own the characters. The Secret Garden is now in the public domain and money *can* be made off of it as Susan Moody did with her sequel, "Return to the Secret Garden". This disclaimer applies to all chapters of this story as it appears here at FFN.
Those Qualities Upon Which Friendship Lives
by Mena in the Garden
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
I've been working on this story for years now. It currently has 12 completed chapters and it's always in the back of my mind to follow it through and complete the whole thing, though I don't know how many chapters it will be when it's finished.
I'm the same "Mena in the Garden" who runs the Secret Garden Fan Fiction Society on Yahoo Groups and I have a Secret Garden site here: secretgardenfics dot momodee dot com
Thanks for reading and if you'd like to leave a review positive or with corrections and ideas etc. please do. Enjoy.
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Chapter Ten
Mary awakened earlier than usual, anxious about Dickon's visit and the question he'd be asking her Uncle. Today everything would fall into place, or so she hoped. Colin had been quite irritated that she'd been on the moor without him and spent a good fifteen minutes lecturing her on manners. Somehow she'd survived the tea, noting how jealous Colin had acted. He couldn't have known she was with Dickon but of course he did. What else could he think? That she was pruning weeds with Ben Weatherstaff? Martha had been indoors all day, so Colin knew Mary wasn't with her.
Mary felt a bit irritated herself at being made to feel guilty for being with Dickon. She'd only spent the entire morning with Colin and her Uncle. Wasn't that enough? What more did Colin want? He demanded to be entertained just like he was a little boy again. If he started any of that on this day, Mary resolved to give him a piece of her mind. Nothing would ruin her day and the prospect of finally being able to move on with the wedding plans.
The secret garden was of course the only place she could ever imagine getting married, but she knew her Uncle would insist on a proper church wedding. It would be difficult to convince him, but her mind was settled on the matter.
A knock sounded at the door, and Mary went to open it. Martha stood before her, beaming.
"Oh, Miss Mary! Tha looks so beautiful!"
"Good morning, Martha. You seem happy today. What's the cause?"
"I just canna wait for thee to be part of the family, is all." Her face grew grave. "Colin's mighty upset, Miss."
"I know. I just don't really know what about. He can't know about "
"Oh no, Miss. I'd never tell! I've not told a soul."
"I trust you, Martha. I think I ought to spend some time with Colin today, though I'd rather not when he's acting this way. Still I think it may be the only way to calm him."
"Would you like to have breakfast downstairs or shall I bring it to your room?"
"Downstairs would be fine, thank you, Martha. I'll just finish getting dressed and go see Colin. I'll be down in a few minutes. Could you help me with this dress for a moment?"
Mary could never seem to get certain dresses closed properly. The long lacy cream colored one and the blue one with velvet trim had a mass of buttons down the back that she could never reach.
Once she was properly attired, she dismissed Martha and headed to Colin's bedroom door. She heard him bustling about inside, and raised her hand to knock when the door flew open and she came face to face with the agitated young man.
"Oh! Colin! I didn't realize you were coming out," she said, stepping back to allow him room to pass.
"What? She speaks to me?" he mocked.
"Come now, Colin. Do be nice," Mary coaxed, taking his arm gently. "Let's have our breakfast together and things can be as they once were. Don't be cross with me," she said.
"You missed our tea yesterday," he said pointedly. "Where were you?"
"I was—" Mary fumbled, trying to think up a good enough lie to tell him. "—in the kitchen." It wasn't a lie; she'd come in the kitchen door and Martha practically ambushed her with questions. They'd gone up to her room and prepared for dinner, with Mary completely forgetting tea with Colin in her excitement.
"You were in the kitchen for an hour?" Colin shook his head, disbelieving.
"No, not the whole time. I was upstairs with Martha, if you must know."
"Don't take that tone with me, Mary. You agreed to have tea with me – I am the one who has been slighted, not you."
Mary furrowed her brow. Colin was right; she'd broken her promise to him and he had every right to be upset with her behavior. "You're right, Colin. I was rude and thoughtless. Please forgive me?"
Colin looked at her for a space, then turned away and trudged down the stairs. "You know I can't say no to you, Mary," he said as she followed him downstairs. He stopped midway and turned to her. "What say we spend some time together today? Just the two of us. I haven't seen you for so long and here you are running about and I've hardly had a moment to enjoy your company. Don't deny me this small pleasure yet again."
Mary took pity on him, the way he looked at her so desperately. Dickon was due to arrive and ask for her hand, and surely she could not be out and away while that happened in the house. At the same time, she was not keen on being around when Colin found out about her engagement. Perhaps just a few hours with him would help him understand that he was still loved and that realization might bring back some of the old Colin she used to know.
"Shall we go to the garden?" she asked. "After breakfast?"
"No, I don't want to go there today," he said, surprising her.
"Why ever not?" she asked. "You've always loved it there."
"I just don't want to be in there today. There are many places we can go. Misselthwaite has dozens of gardens, as well, if you fancy a walk in one. Or we can play tennis on the south lawn if you prefer, or we can go to my room again like when we were young and played with games and puzzles—"
Mrs. Medlock passed the staircase and noticed the cousins upon it, talking. She stopped and coughed, drawing attention from their conversation. "You both had best hurry and get your breakfast, it's about to be served!"
"Thank you, Mrs. Medlock. Come on, Colin, we shall talk about this later."
Medlock shot Mary a disapproving look and Mary wondered what the matter could be. Nothing inappropriate had been said. Ah! Colin inviting a young lady to his bedroom was of course something that Mrs Medlock would find very wrong, indeed. Mary stifled a giggle as she moved to the dining area and took a seat.
"Why are you laughing?" Colin asked, oblivious to his faux pas on the stairs.
"Mrs. Medlock! You'd invited me to your room," Mary said, leaning toward him and speaking conspiratorially. "She looked as if she might faint!"
Colin smiled and his entire face lit up brightly. "I hadn't even – what she must think!"
"You must be careful around her, Colin. You're like to give her an attack or something with your rude suggestions," Mary said, her laughter bubbling over and escaping at the end of her sentence.
"Oh yes, that's me, terribly and horribly rude. Such a cad and a bounder," Colin replied smugly, setting his napkin in his lap. "My evil plan was to get you into my bedroom where I'd then—"
A loud cough interrupted Colin as Archibald Craven entered the room and took a seat at the head of the table. "Enough, Colin," he commanded firmly.
Mary's eyes widened. Her uncle did not seem in good spirits on this fine morning; perhaps it was not too late to tell Dickon to wait on their talk. She ate as quickly as she could, not speaking to either Colin or her uncle the entire time. The three ate in silence and when Mary was finished, she excused herself and left the table. Colin lingered a moment, then excused himself and followed her. She'd headed straight to the front door and pried it open to face the day. Once outside, Colin walked up beside her and took her elbow gently.
"I didn't mean to offend you, Mary," he said. "I was just having a spot of fun."
"I'm not upset with you, Colin," she reassured him. "Everyone is just so tightly wound today, I'm afraid they will all break like a bad spring and go flying about the house in little pieces." She sighed. "I would not mind going to your room to play games as we once did, but I think those times are over for us now, Colin. No one else sees us the way we see each other."
"How do we see each other?" Colin asked tentatively.
Mary looked into his clear eyes. "I see you as a very good friend, Colin. You're my cousin, you're a good man, and we've been through a lot together. I care for you very much, as I also care for Dickon."
"Why does he always have to come between us?" Colin said, suddenly angry.
"He isn't between us, Colin," she said, trying to make him understand. He'd started to walk away, but Mary stopped him. "Is he why you don't want to go into the garden anymore?"
"The garden is his place, not mine," Colin said stiffly. He looked out over the moors and put on a resolute expression.
"That's not true."
"I see the way he looks at you…and you look back at him."
Mary fought with herself as to whether she should simply tell Colin everything and bear his wrath, or allow him to find out later, when she could easily hide away. She'd never been the type of girl to run away from a challenge, but dealing with the feelings of young men was quite a different story. She did not want to juggle hearts or lead anyone on. She loved Dickon and could not help that fact. It simply was. And she could not love Colin in the same way. It was something he would have to accept, and nothing she did would be able to ease the burden or soften the blow.
"Colin, I do love Dickon. I love you, too, but it's a different kind of love."
Colin began to walk again, and Mary followed. His direction seemed aimless, not heading toward the stable, garden, or anywhere in particular. "Mary, I have a feeling I know what you're going to say and I will tell you right now that I am not of the right mind to hear it. I simply can not."
What could Mary say to this revelation? Colin knew himself better than she did at this point, but she didn't want to give up so easily. She tried to approach her cousin, but he waved her away. When he spoke again, his voice cracked slightly, as if he were holding back tears.
"When you came here, I wanted you to go away. I was sure I'd die in my bed and never see the sun again. But you were the one who believed in me and defied my doctors and Medlock and even my father because you thought I was worth that effort even when I did not. And everything was grand – we had the garden, we had each other, and I was going to live forever and ever. Do you remember me saying that in the garden?"
Mary nodded. "Yes," she said. "As if it were yesterday."
"While you've been hidden away at school, Dickon and I became involved in the war effort and though I don't know what his experiences were like, I was taught that people do not live forever and ever, and some of them die quite young and in the prime of their lives. And so I promised myself that if ever I saw you again, if ever you returned, I would make you mine. Because we belonged together, Mary," Colin said, his voice now pleading. "Or so I thought."
"Please, Colin, don't—"
"I know this is terribly hard for you to hear, but it must be said. I love you. I have loved you for years, since our times in the garden, since you screamed at me that night when I was sure I'd die and you were the devil himself come to snatch me away. And I thought – foolishly – I thought that perhaps I could offer you more than he could. He has nothing – no money or status, education, opportunity -- nothing at all. I could entice you with things galore, surely. But no, not my Mary. You always see through the things of the world and you look right into the heart. And since the war, dear Mary, I fear my heart is black and cold and shriveled beyond repair, beyond even the help of magic."
Mary didn't know what to say. She absorbed his words and ruminated on them, wanting to reach out and hold him and tell him he was not the person he described, but that Colin – her Colin—lived on inside him, well as the day he proclaimed he would indeed grow up to be a man.
"What can I do?" Mary asked aloud, partly to herself, partly to God in His Heaven.
"I know you love him," Colin continued. "There's no denying it. Lord knows I tried to. You ignored me, Mary. I was right here all this time, and you always looked past me."
Guilt settled in around Mary's shoulders, causing her to feel the world and its heavy weight bearing down on her. Colin had spent years pining for her, and she had overlooked him in favor of Dickon. But how could that have been wrong when it was Dickon who stoked the fires in her heart? She had been called to Dickon as if he'd been part of her from the beginning of her existence. He was the missing element that her soul longed for each day and night, and she'd been lucky enough to have found him as a child when some people never find the one who was made just for them. And while Colin had spent all this time looking for her, perhaps he'd already overlooked one who might be right for him. There was no explaining it now, not with Colin in such a state.
"I'm so sorry, Colin," she said. "I never meant to hurt you. I know that is no consolation, but know that I do love you and you are the world to me and I do long for your happiness. I just – I just can not change my feelings for Dickon. Surely you knew in the garden so long ago that this would come to pass? It was forged then, right before your eyes. I never kept my feelings secret from either of you."
Mary watched as Colin took a deep breath and hung his head low. He brought his hand up to his forehead and held it there a moment, then pushed his light fringe back. "Just leave me be, Mary."
"I can't do that," Mary said.
"I can't have you, and to see you just rips my heart in two. Just go back to the house, or go see your garden…or Dickon. I can't bear to look at you."
"Please don't say that, Colin!"
"Go!"
"No! You won't make me leave you; I am not a child you can admonish so easily or bend to your will!" Mary grew angry at the way Colin treated her. He was not yet master of the house and had no right to say such things to her.
A voice rang out across the lawn, calling to both Mary and Colin. A figure approached, and Mary stood rooted to the spot as she recognized Dickon walking up the small slope of a hill to see his friends. She watched Colin glance toward Dickon, then he stalked away down the south side of the hill, leaving Mary alone at the top.
"Colin!" Dickon called, to no avail. He reached Mary, who immediately threw herself into his waiting arms and sobbed uncontrollably.
"Eh, lass, what's the matter with thee?" Dickon tried to speak to her, but Mary was beyond comforting. She simply wanted to run away from Misselthwaite, from broken hearts and dreams, from the matters of money and war and hate and even love. As a child she was always ready to blame her parents for every little thing she perceived as wrong or selfish or cold; she never knew being a grownup could hurt so much or be so very confusing.