A/N: Lol throwback to when I was supposed to be finished with this story by the end of January! Things came up, but I am back – and determined to have this done by the beginning of spring – so please leave some love if you like this xx
The hedges were overgrown, the brush had gone wild, and the stone path disappeared beneath tufts of dried grass. The fallen leaves made no sound as they were trop upon. They silently accepted their fate, anticipating the uneven footsteps of the man coming their way before he had so much as cast his shadow upon them.
Desolation was nothing new to Archibald, nor was the path which he presently followed. He had not a thought in his convoluted mind for the dead things under his feet. What was new, however, was the labyrinth which lined the length of his way. Or perhaps he had stayed away too long, losing the familiarity of nostalgia from the home of his childhood.
He walked in a trance. His mind was too preoccupied with his niece, his son. So preoccupied was he, in fact, he managed to thrice pass his intended destination before finally planting his feet upon the indifferent pathway; and he stared expectantly at the limp ivy hanging from the cold stones of the garden wall.
Then, he crossed the way to the barren rose bush beneath which was buried the key.
He used little energy to retrieve it, and examined the old article the earth had spent the last ten years trying to reclaim before slowly returning to the ivy. He brushed it aside where he knew the thick oak door was nestled and took a breath.
The neglected lock resisted the key at first. But after a short struggle, it yielded, granting him entry to what he imagined would be an unchanged paradise.
What secrets, he wondered, could still be hidden here after all these years.
Archibald took great care in pushing open the door, but his heart dropped once inside. He saw the garden as it once had been, half wild and welcoming; but it was not his blushing bride awaiting him with open arms as he had hoped.
No, Lilias was not the jubilant blonde girl with dirt on her hands and tools in her apron and packets of seeds pushing the limits of her pockets.
And what a sight he must have been to the unsuspecting mistress. The moment Mary turned around, he knew what she saw. She saw a miserable, aging, unkind man looking back at her in fear and disappointment. He knew such for certain because of the apologetic look on her face, because of the wide, hazel eyes that quivered and glistened in the brightness of the day as she stared back at him – her uncle, her guardian, nothing more than a stranger.
He was supposed to care for her; but how could he raise her when he could not so much as bring himself to speak to her?
Archibald tried in vain to say something, to beg for her forgiveness; but his throat was dry and no words escaped.
It proved to matter not, however, as the girl's attention shifted to something – or someone – out of his sight. Neither fear nor disgust remained in her eyes as she offered a kind greeting to this other figure.
She was known to Archibald, despite Mary's display of unfamiliarity: her small frame, golden hair glowing, blowing wildly in the wind; and her laughing eyes that always seemed to turn blue beneath the daylit skies.
He was frozen, chilled through and unable to move. She had not noticed him, or perhaps she could not see him at all from where she stood. She was far too focused on showing Mary around the garden to pay any mind to him.
It was her garden.
"Our garden."
Archibald had not intended to speak such words aloud; but he was too overcome with the emotion of his memory to truly notice if he had made a sound when he heard, somewhere in the back of his mind, the voice of his wife referring to her oasis as such. The pair he had intruded upon suddenly turned to him, however, convincing him he had not been as reserved with his reminiscing as he had hoped.
He thought he heard the girl apologize for sneaking in, but he did not care. He was stuck in the spell of the voice of Lilias as she bade him join them for the afternoon.
But he still could not bring himself to walk, to speak. He was too weary, and his body felt far too heavy. Even keeping his eyes open, drinking in her image, felt too cumbersome a task to continue.
His bed felt wider, colder with her words ringing in his ears, the remnants of a dream still clinging to his mind. They mingled with reality, turning into the harsh, shrill sounds of the birds outside his window. His eyes struggled to adjust to the muted grey light that crept into his room, casting shadows on the wall which one may have believed to be made of stone. The shapes of furniture morphed into the hazy silhouettes of trees and flowers, as though compromised by the pall of mist that hung upon the moors, as he tried in vain to return to the blissful darkness, his only remaining connection to his precious Lilias.
It was not yet morning when Lord Craven had resigned himself to waking. But the sun was creeping in through closed curtains by the time he had finished packing.
"What are you doing, Archie?"
Neville had come to wake his brother, and was stunned to find him set on leaving the manor, and quite possibly for good.
"But you were doing so well," the doctor reasoned, unsure how to feel about the sudden change, "but where did this resolve come from?"
"You could at least pretend to be disappointed," huffed Archibald, scolding his brother's inappropriately positive attitude.
The latter straightened himself, assuming his more professional composure in the hope that it would be met with less dissatisfaction.
"Then, what shall we do about the girl?" he enquired further, "I'm sure I could find a nice school to–"
"She likes the gardens and being outside." His suggestion was cut off by a pensive counterargument. "Let her play outside – she is still a child."
But Neville was prepared to spit back. "I feel fair certain that Rose and Albert would not want their girl to grow up just wandering around."
"You mean like I do?"
Neither man spoke for a moment, fearing a disturbance to the room would shred what little peace still somehow hung about.
Then, "she's met Colin," Doctor Craven explained the true reason for his earlier decision. "I cannot hope to succeed with any sort of treatment for him if she's always getting my way or sending him into a fit."
Archibald signed, reluctant to accept that any kind of parental guidance was required of him.
Neville continued on about his frustrations with Mary, as well as his feelings towards Colin progress. He described the boy's latest outburst, and his handling of such, in a way that would have worried Archibald had he not been caught up in his own daydream – had he held any kind of regard for the boy as his own child.
"Mayhaps they'll be good for eachother. It seems you've everything well in hand." The elder spoke dismissively, his voice sounding far off. His half-trance was evident, too, in his eyes through which he was recalling his dream; and he wondered if he should inform his companion of its contents. Would Lilias want their niece to see her garden, even if she was not the one showing her around as he had imagined?
"Well in hand? Have you heard anything I just said?!" Neville's temper was rising, and he made no effort to suppress it. He appeared to quite enjoy the feeling, a feeling of uncontrollable power, a strong contrast to the competent state usually required of his duties.
"And I said Mary likes the gardens." His reply was resolute, yet still distant.
"Last night," he decided firmly, though unprompted, to express himself plainly. He was leaving anyway – what could his brother do about these fantasies, "I had a dream that I went back to Lily's Garden – for the first time since… the accident."
Neville sighed in frustration. He did not interrupt his brother, however, out of sheer curiosity of the reason behind his current stupor. His reason for caring so much he knew not; but he did listen. He even allowed his own mind to wander slightly to days when his home was filled with pleasure.
"I saw them together, Mary standing with Lilias inside her garden. It was wild, but not overgrown – just the way she liked it.
"She looked happy – they both did actually – and then there was me. Lilias had always called it 'our garden;' but, in my dream, I felt like a trespasser. They didn't want me there, I'm sure of it. I was a disturbance. They spoke as though I wasn't there, like I couldn't hear them. Yet, they looked right at me.
"Everything felt unfamiliar. I felt unwanted."
"Perhaps that is because she never wanted you," the doctor had wished to say to signify he had heard enough. But he did not – could not – for Neville knew it was untrue. Lilias only had eyes for his brother.
And he was still bitter about it.
Instead, he broke his brother's recollection by stating bluntly, "Well this fantasy tells me one thing quite clearly: I agree that it would be best if you leave again."
Archibald silenced himself, straining to train his eyes upon the one who spoke to him.
"You've always fared better on your own," the voice continued, "and if you're concerned about your health, perhaps separation from the children is what you need."
The master nodded along, only half-following the one-sided conversation.
"But do think about what I said regarding Mary's future. You'd be giving her the life she deserves; and it would be better for Colin."
"Is he still asleep? I'll stop in and see him before I go." Archibald made this declaration so sternly that his brother was without words for a moment.
Then, he managed to nod in assent before finding his voice once more. "And what shall I tell the servants, the children?"
"I'm sure you'll figure something out," he replied with a sombre smile. "I don't know if I'll be returning this time, but I'm sure you can manage. This, I think, is the best way for me to finally move on with my life, escape the ghosts of the past. I believe I am finally strong enough to accept my fate – accept that I was meant to be alone. I was deluded for too long, but I've finally found my footing.
"Besides, you've taken good enough care of Colin all these years. I'm sure you can find it in yourself to do right by Mary. Maybe, one day, she'll even see you as her father."
With his last comment leaving a pang in Neville's hardened heart, Archibald rang the bell to call upon his valet to order his bags brought down and the carriage prepared.
He would stop at his son's room on his way out.
He gathered a few things, his courage included, and made his way through his house to the tapestry-covered door his boy was kept hidden behind – just as most of his pains were kept hidden from the outside world.
The halls of Missewlthwaite were abandoned when a lonely knock rang through them. Neither the grand piano in the drawing room, nor the voices trying to gossip over it reached this part of the house.
When Archibald opted to open the door himself, he was surprised to find his fiancée stood before him; and what a fretful thing she was. Her cheeks were blotchy and damp, her wrinkled kerchief unable to hide the stream of tears in her agate eyes.
"My God, Lilias, whatever has gotten you worked into such a state?"
Against propriety – for when in their courtship had they cared for propriety – he invited her into his apartment, leading her to the divan in the sitting room.
"Oh, it's nothing, I just wanted to see you before bed, is all," she said, trying to compose herself, whilst fully aware that she would be unable to deceive him.
"Lilias," Archibald continued softly, "you and I both know you're lying. But you're here now, so please – you know you can tell me anything – let me help you. I'm to be your husband, so let me be your confidant."
"Oh, no I'm just being so silly." she replied dismissively, her shoulders shaking ever so subtly as she tried to resist a fresh flow of tears.
"It's Rose, you see – we've just had a bit of a disagreement, but that's all. I'm sure she was just teasing me!"
Her voice was not nearly as assuring as her words tried to be. He took her hand, delicately brushing his thumbing across her fingers as though trying to ease out the pain behind her eyes. He did not need to speak for her to intuit that he wished her to elaborate; but he gave her space to steady herself. Archibald watched carefully as she shook her head, wondering what she was telling herself that was causing such a war inside.
Finally she spoke, "our relationship, our marriage – she says she will not come to the wedding," letting out a bitter laugh as she reflected on her sister's habits. "Perhaps I should speak with Claire about having her as my Maid of Honor, no? Maybe Rose does not wish to upstage me upon the altar – that must be it! – that vain little girl."
"Lilias? Lilias!" He was shaking her limp hand as he tried to refocus her glistening, far-off gaze upon his own visage; he at least wanted her mind to return to the room, the present.
"Don't just– God, what happened between you two that you've begun thinking like this? She may be your sister, but she's nothing compared to you."
"Ha! Imagine if she heard you!" Lilias burst out, paying little mind to the backhanded compliment he had given.
"She's not my sister anymore, or so she said."
"The truth, love." He was getting angry in spite of himself. But he feared not that she questioned where such anger was directed.
So she sighed solemnly and resigned herself to the recountment of her earlier encounter.
"I had been retiring for the evening, and I wished to say goodnight to you first," the blush she felt spreading across her cheeks was evidence enough that she knew how boldly she had acted, "But, on the way here, I ran into Rose. I knew we had put no guests in the west wing, nor would she be seeing you, so I presumed she had been to see Neville. Thus, I confronted her about it."
"That louse – and she's married! How indecent." Archibald interjected, squeezing his fiancée's hand a bit too harshly. She accepted the short pain, however, almost revelling in it.
"Decency is not a world Rose is too familiar with. She made no effort to deny my accusations, nor the implications of such; but she seemed to speak as though your brother was her own prey– but that's besides the point." Lilias cut herself off abruptly, a shiver of discomfort passing over her. Archibald in turn brought his free hand behind her head, pulling her close.
"In defense, she flipped the conversation to my relationship with you, telling me I," she faltered, hesitated, "I should not marry you because you're a cripple."
"For once, she is not wrong."
"Maybe not about what you physically are, but about who you are Archie!" Lilias declared, shifting to her knees so she could look into her love's deep brown eyes as she cupped his cheeks.
"You are the most kind, sincere, tender, and handsome gentleman I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. I don't love you despite what others may call your flaws – I love you because of them, because they made you the man you are."
Archibald sat speechless in her arms, tears of hope and happiness forming in his melancholic eyes. Lilias wiped them away, her hands suddenly feeling colder upon his newly-flushed cheeks.
She gazed at him with an ardour which punctuated her words beautifly, convincing him that she spoke in earnest, that she truly believed every word she had said.
"She also tried to argue," Lilias continued slowly, worried she would bring about unnecessary worry in her love's anxious heart, "she said that I shouldn't marry you because of the children. Because they may–"
"Yes, they may." He stopped her, understanding her enough to not want to hear the rest. He was already too familiar with this side of the conversation, "Neville probably suggested it to her. Heaven knows he's always mentioned it to me."
"I thought as much too," she continued, taking his hands firmly back in hers, "but any child we have will be absolutely flawless without a doubt; because he or she will be the product of our love – deep and true and perfect, my Archie.
"How could I not love my own kin when I love ye so much."
Tears finally began to flow freely down her porcelain face, but Archibald's smile had broadened greatly. He kissed her brow, squeezed her hands, then added, "Miss MacLaren, your roots are showing," with a low chuckle that made Lilias's heart swell.
She laughed too, daintily brushing away the tears collecting upon her jaw. Then, she swiftly kissed him softly upon the lips. Archibald's cheeks burnt darker in response, his eyes opening wide; and Lilias could not resist twisting her arms around his neck in a tight embrace.
"I think your surprised face is my favourite," she mumbled gaily into his shoulder.
They stayed entwined, embracing the evening; both were far too comforted to let go, or even speak. But eventually the remainders of her explanation that had been flitting about in her head became too loud for Lilias to ignore. So she sighed and shifted and pouted and shook her head; and all the while her fiancé watched her carefully. He found it all quite endearing, and another smile slowly lightened his features as he remembered that such a lovely creature was to be his wife very soon.
"Rose has no intention of being seen as even the most remote relation of yours, she made that clear enough to me."
Lilias was no longer holding him as she spoke, but Archibald forced himself further from her upon hearing these words.
He could not meet her eyes as he asked, "what did she mean by that?" his brow furrowing in concern. He feared he already knew the answer quite well, but a small part of him hoped that Lilias would be able to extinguish such doubt. In truth, he cared little for Rose's opinions, but he was worried about what she may covice Lilias to do.
He soon realised, however, that his fears truly were not unfounded when her shoulders fell and she replied, "she wishes for me to end our engagement."
Archibald had already resigned himself to this possibility. He kept his gaze low, examining the details of the carpet as a distraction from the woman beside him as he tried to clear his head enough to give her an answer, an assurance. He was sure disappointment was clear upon his face, but he wanted her to be able to make what she believed the best decision for herself would be; he did not want to guilt her into marrying him, as he already felt he was doing, revelling in her kindness for too long that he had become blind.
The disillusionment of what he knew he had to say stayed him. But he managed (with great effort) to find courage enough – courage only Lilias could instill in him – to reply.
"So, that is it then. So the engagement is off. I und–"
He stopped his speech abruptly when he heard her gasp. He finally dared to turn back to meet her eyes. The look of incredulity he found in them sent him through a wave of emotions he was too fatigued to interpret. So, the couple sat frozen for what seemed an eternity as they tried to wordlessly realign their thoughts.
Lilias was the one to end their suffering by enquiring, "and whyever would we do that?"
He looked through her, remaining speechless, and instead encouraged her to continue by way of a subtle nod.
"I told her I did not care. I love you, Archie Craven; and if my sister refuses to believe that or accept it, well so be it.
"To me, true love is supposed to be a willingness to put someone else's happiness before your own. Rose never does that! She told me to abandon my dearest friend for the sake of her vanity – no care for my own wishes at all!
"And then you! You immediately thought the engagement should end, and why? I know why: you did not want me to lose my sister; because, to you, my happiness is the most important thing. If there was a doubt in my mind that you loved me wholly – and as a person not a possession – that proved it tenfold!"
If there was still a doubt in Archibald's mind as to her affections for him, her declaration solidified the reciprocation of the love that burnt inside him. And, as she continued, he could not help falling victim to the pure passion in her eyes, mesmerising him – calling out to him like a siren – begging him to never leave her side.
"The unfortunate thing is, my love, that I've already lost my sister. If she does not love me the way I do her, then I will gladly let her go for the sake of an eternity beside the love of my life."
To punctuate her proclamation, Lilias closed the gap that had formed between them, trying to kiss him once again; but Archibald stilled her by breaking from his trance and speaking.
"I am sorry, but I cannot allow you to lose your sister over this. Even if you no longer regard each other as such, it would be selfish of me to sever you from the only family you have left.
Then, she kissed him, drawing him closer by burying her hands in his hair. His arms hung loosely around her, wary of her wishes. As she pulled away, she placed his hands more firmly on her waist. And she smiled.
"In less than two months, you will be my husband – and then we'll have lots of children and grow a nice big family of our own."
She gave him one more quick kiss as she stood to leave for the night.
"I swear, I don't need Rose so long as I have you – that's more than I could ever ask for."