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From Emma to Mary
September 12, 1916
Peter's Ridge
Mary,
I am terribly sorry that you are so disconsolate. I wish I could be there as well, but the war, you know. It's getting better, but not enough to be able to leave. I hope to visit you soon, but in the meantime, read some Jane Austen novels, those always seem to cheer me up.
Love,
Emma
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From Mary to Emma
September 15, 1916
The Silver Bird Inn
Emma,
I am so grateful to have a wonderful, loving sister like you. Thank you so much for your concern! However, something has just happened that has made me so happy as to almost forget all of that. I will tell you the entire story. I was feeling maudlin, and I have been avoiding Bert for the past few days. So, he finally came and visited me in my rooms (I just realized that I have never gone and visited him, I really should remedy that). I watched him walk in the room and then turned away from him.
"Please go away, Bert. I can't handle having you here any more." I said.
"Mary," Bert said, his urgent tone drawing my eyes to his.
"Yes?" I asked warily.
"I need to show you something." He took my hand, sending a shiver of delight up my arm. Bert led me to the painting that he had given me, and then took my other hand. I looked up at him, incredulous.
"Trust me, dear." And then he closed his eyes. I felt awkward, so I did the same. Suddenly, a burst of wind flew through the room, and bright flashes of light shone through my eyelids. The urge to look was too tempting, so I opened my eyes for a moment. A rainbow swirl of colors was spinning around us, making me dizzy.
"Close your eyes, it helps with the nausea." Bert said. I glanced at him and saw that he was still across from me, holding my hands. I obeyed him and closed my eyes, but the wind was still there.
In an instant, all of it was gone.
I opened my eyes. We were no longer in my sitting room, but surrounded by a field of tall, green grass. I could not see a tree nor a cloud for miles, so clear was the sky. There was nothing but tall grass, except- what was that? I walked to a strange, black object that stuck up out of the ground. It was an umbrella, an umbrella with… a parrot head for a handle. Picking up the umbrella, I stared at it, not believing what I saw.
"Bert. This umbrella… this is…" I turned to him. "The one from the painting." Bert watched me, so many emotions flitting through his eyes. And then I understood what he was trying to tell me.
"You're… you're…" I dropped the umbrella in shock.
"An Ethereal." He finished for me. He looked so vulnerable, yet still so full of hope. Hope. Hope for what? And then I remembered what I had hoped for. Why had I given up on Bert and I? Because an Ethereal cannot be with a human. But Bert is not…
I looked at Bert, hope and doubt warring inside me. Bert is not human.
"You're not human." I said, everything finally clicked.
"You're not human!" I nearly sang at the top of my lungs. I ran to Bert and hugged him tight, and he spun me around. He set me down and looked deeply into my eyes.
"I'm not human." Bert whispered, moving closer. My arms snaked around his neck, and then I kissed him. It was wonderful, made even more amazing by the fact that I had thought it would never happen again. His arms encircled my waist, and I could not have imagined a more beautiful feeling. I felt loved, cherished. I finally belonged somewhere, with Bert. We broke apart, and just stared at one another for a moment.
"I love you, Bert." I said, breathless.
"I know." He replied, his voice as quiet as mine. He gave me a lopsided smile.
"How do you like your painting now?" Bert teased.
"Why, it's wonderful! Is this what you chose for your gift, then? To be able to go into paintings?" I asked.
"Yes. My mum and dad died when I was about 1,300, and they were wonderful painters. I chose that gift so that I could go into their paintings and remember them." He answered.
"Oh, Bert." I gave him a hug. "I love this painting, it's so full of creativity." I picked up the parrot umbrella and twirled it around. "Who would think of such a thing?" Bert smiled.
"Should we go back?" He asked. I opened up the umbrella and then closed it.
"Yes, let's." We both closed our eyes.
And then the wind was there again, the colors, the spinning, then we were back. I opened my eyes and realized that I was still holding the umbrella.
"Well, I have been needing an umbrella." I said.
"And I'm the perfect one." A voice squawked. I looked around, confused. Then I studied the parrot on the umbrella, it winked at me.
"Good heavens!" I said, dropping the umbrella. "It talks?"
"Apparently. The paintings I create are like windows to other worlds. I don't get to decide everything that the world holds." He shrugged.
"It will be an interesting thing to have, thank you." Bert nodded in acknowledgement of my thanks. I looked at the painting, which was now just a field of tall grass.
"It doesn't have a subject anymore." I said.
"I can paint some cows in it, if you'd like." He responded. I stared at the painting for a moment, thinking.
"No, I like it like that. It feels free."
"I like it too." We stood there for a moment in peaceful silence, and then Bert turned to me.
"I should get back to work, but I will come again soon." He said, giving me a kiss on the forehead.
"Goodbye, Bert." I said, and he left.
So there you are, Emma. I am in a wonderful mood, and I am enjoying talking to my parrot umbrella. He is quite witty, I will have you know. You won't need to worry for me, Bert and I are… well… we're just wonderful. Have a good day, Emma.
Love,
Mary
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From Emma to Mary
September 16, 1916
Peter's Ridge
Mary,
Bert is an Ethereal!? Wow! I did not expect that one bit. But I am so glad that you two have made up. Maybe more than made up. When is your wedding day, again? I am only partly joking. It would be fun to have a brother (though you are a truly amazing sister).
Love,
Emma
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From Mary to Emma
September 19, 1916
The Silver Bird Inn
Emma,
Slow down, there is no engagement, though we have been spending enough time together to necessitate one if we lived in Jane Austen's time. I was just on my way to deliver a book to him when I got your letter. I still have not gone to his apartment, and I hope I can find it. Oh, also, I have been looking harder for a job. I am getting extremely bored, stuck at home all the time. I need something to do. I will tell you how my visit with Bert went when I get back.
I have returned. When I first went out to find Bert, I had to ask people for directions . A few people gave me odd looks when I asked for "The Charity Apartments", but finally, someone gave me directions. So I walked down the streets, looking for a plaque of some sort, but the place I found had none. I realized why so many people had given me odd looks. What stood before me was a ramshackle building, hardly worthy of the title of building. It was tall, but very crooked, and none of the windows were symmetrical. In fact, there were hardly any windows at all. I knocked on the door, which was not tall enough for even me (and you know, Emma, I am not terribly tall). The woman who answered, however, was the perfect height for the door.
"I'm looking for Herbert Alfred." I told her.
"No one calls 'im that." She motioned for me to follow her. "Come in." I bent over and walked behind her. The ceiling of the room we walked into was hardly taller than the door, and I had to take my hat off so it wouldn't get smashed.
"Just up those stairs, 'e's number eight." She told me, pointing to a narrow stairwell.
"Thank you." I said. I had to hunch over once again. "How does anyone fit in here?" I muttered under my breath. Once I had reached the second floor, I stood up and rubbed my neck. Thankfully, this hallway was taller, and I was even able to put my hat back on. I found number eight and knocked on the door, which Bert opened.
"Mary?" He attempted to smooth out his hair, which was horribly mussed, and I laughed. "What are you doing here?" He asked.
"I've brought you a book I thought you would enjoy. It's one of my favorites." I handed him the book.
"The Scarlet Pimpernel?" He studied the cover. "What's it about?"
"The French Revolution, spies, mystery, betrayal, romance. It's a page turner." I answered.
"Sounds interesting." Bert said, he hadn't moved from the doorway.
"Won't you let me come in?"
"I… It's a mess in here."
"Oh, that's fine. I can help." I pushed past Bert before he could decline. I took in the room, it was a mess. It was also very small, and the walls were covered in beautiful paintings. I quickly told the room to clean itself up, and walked around to admire the paintings while it was doing so.
"Quite a useful gift." Bert said, watching everything move about on its own.
"Yes." I said, distracted. "Are all of these paintings yours?"
"Mostly. I saved a few from my parents." He grabbed my hand and pulled me over to a small painting of a house in the country. "This was my mother's." Bert told me.
"Is this the house that you lived in? On Ondera?" I asked. Bert nodded.
"My mother painted this when I was 600. She let me do the grass." Bert brushed his fingers over the painting. I glanced at him, he looked so forlorn. I put my arm around his strong shoulders and leaned my head against him. Bert laid his head on mine and closed his eyes. There was so much more to this man than simply being a chimney sweep, and I was so grateful that he had let me see the other sides of him. Though comforting seemed to be helping, I sensed that he needed a reason to laugh. I took my head off of his shoulder and ran a hand through his unruly hair.
"Your hair really is a mess." I laughed, and he gave me a smile. I called a comb to me and had it fix his hair.
"There, much better." I said. "But it is missing one thing." I pretended to deeply ponder the subject, then I put my own hat on his head and nodded definitively.
"Perfect." I said. And Bert chuckled.
"Is that it?" He said. "I guess my other hat needs flowers."
"Well I'm sure you could paint some on. Pink would go nicely with your eyes." That earned me a hearty laugh.
"I don't think pink and blue are generally used together." He said, his smile finally reaching his eyes.
"Oh, but you look handsome in anything." I said. Bert smiled and blushed a little, then he kissed my forehead tenderly.
"What would I do without you, Mary?" I leaned my head against his chest and he rested his chin atop it. He sighed contentedly.
"I do believe that I am in love with you, Mary Poppins." I smiled from within Bert's embrace, and felt peace like I have never felt before.
I couldn't be happier,
Mary
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From Mary to Bert
September 22, 1916
The Silver Bird Inn
Dearest Bert,
I have recently been searching for a job to occupy my time. I haven't been able to find anything that fits my needs. Would you help me look for something?
Love,
Mary