Disclaimer: Nothing has changed, I still don't own anything. Not the characters, not the original plot, just this story.
Snowball Fights
Mary woke up to a strange silence. The lack of sound compared to the night before was near deafening. She dragged herself out from under the covers only to be greeted by a rush of cold air that sent her flying back into the warmth.
"You'll have to come out sometime Miss Mary. Don' want to keep my Dickon waiting." Martha had gathered herself by the window after setting down Mary's breakfast tray. In her lap she held a blanket.
"Is Dickon waiting for me?"
"Aye, that he is. Would tha' be wanting tha' breakfast now then?"
"Alright then." Reluctantly Mary pulled herself away from the covers but was grateful when Martha came up from her position and wrapped the blanket tightly around her.
"Hurry up and eat then. You'll be wanting to play out in the snow I su'pose."
"Yes, the snow!" Mary ran to the window. It was absolutely magnificent. Everything was covered in white. The brilliance of it all was blinding.
"You'll be out in it soon enough. Eat up! You'll need energy, Miss."
"Right." She say down and practically inhaled her porridge and gulped down her milk.
"My, we were hungry." Martha took the tray up and made her way to the door. "I'll be waiting downstairs for you to see you off then."
Dickon was waiting for! In all actuality, this wasn't a strange occurrence. Dickon often waited for her in the mornings, and then they would go out into the gardens together.
Several months ago, though, his mother became very ill. Dickon was by her side every day, but in the end, she passed on. It was hard on everyone, even Mary, for his mother was always so kind to her. But it was hardest on Dickon. Since he was the oldest left at the house, it was up to him to care for the other children. Of course when Lord Craven found out about this, he immediately hired a Governess for the children and Dickon was free to go about, as he liked. Mary had hardly seen him since then, and when she did, it was always awkward. He had even stopped waiting for her in the mornings. But now he was waiting for her! Mary's heart sang with joy as she pulled on a heavy wool dress and her winter boots. She threw open the door to her room and ran down the stairs, stopping only to have Martha help her pull on her coat and hand her gloves, hat, and a scarf.
"Off ye go then Miss Mary." Martha waved cheerily to her as she skipped outside into the morning air.
Her feet crunched loudly in the thickly caked snow. She shivered silently in the cold, but after several moments outside she began to adjust to the weather shock. Looking down at the ground, she noticed footprints, obviously Dickon's, but as to where he was, she didn't know.
"Dickon? Why Dickon where have you gone off to?" She called playfully. Only the sound of wind greeted her ears. "I know you're out here!" She dragged out the sentence, making it last long and loud over the gentle breeze. Mary stood there for several minutes, idly tugging at her hat, before she decided to search for her friend in the gardens. 'I do hope he hasn't run off. I would so like to see him' she thought frantically.
"Why Mistress Mary, I've been waiting for you." Dickon laughed as he snuck up behind Mary, grabbing her around the waist and causing her to squeal in surprise.
"Oh Dickon! You scared me!"
"Well tha's good. I meant to!" They were in a fit of laughter now, each vaguely aware of how close they were to each other. Mary wrestled herself out from his firm grip and bent down to make a snowball when she caught his eye and the laughter died down.
"None of that Miss Mary." He said, catching the look of sympathy in here eyes. "It is a glorious day, and we should enjoy it!"
They sat a moment more, as Dickon silently shared with her his thoughts, and they came to an understanding. Dickon's mother was not to be mentioned, and he was okay. His heart was healed. And then Mary threw the first ball of snow.
It was a brilliant fight. Stunning really. One would throw, the other would duck, and then came the counter attacks. It lasted all morning, and by the end of it, they sat collapsed in the gardens breathing heavily and covered in wet snow.
Mary stole at glance at Dickon, who was gazing up into the clear sky.
"What do you see up there, Dickon?" She asked him quietly.
He looked at her thoughtfully, studying her face. Finally he broke into a smile. "Everything," he said.
"I wish I could see everything in the sky."
"Have you ever tried?" As she began to shake he head 'no,' he cupped her chin in his hand and tilted her head upwards. "Every story, every dream you have ever heard or thought of is right up there."
"Can other people see my dreams in the sky Dickon?"
"Never. Not unless you want them to." He regarded her seriously. "What is it that you're keeping secret Miss Mary? Not another garden?"
She laughed lightly. "No, not another garden."
"You're cold, come here." She was visibly shaking now. Stiffly, she shifted her weight towards him and he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly to share his warmth with her. "Tha's better, isn't is?" She nodded.
"Back to this secret then."
Mary tried to play innocent. "I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about." Dickon looked at her pointedly. 'He knows' Thought Mary. "It's obvious then, isn't it?" she said out loud. "Am I a fool, Dickon, for loving you?"
"Far from a fool Mary," he whispered into her ear. She titled her head back onto his shoulder to look into his face better. Dickon lowered his head and their lips met, ever so gently-
"Mary! Dickon! Where are you?" Colin's voice echoed off the stonewalls of the gardens. The two broke away, and with one last glance at Dickon, Mary scrambled away to meet her cousin.
"Over here Colin!" She was greeted by a snowball, knocking off her hat and causing her to give a scream from the cold.
"I'm going to get you Colin Craven!" Another snowball fight had begun.
Later that day the three friends sat merrily in front of the fire, all wrapped in warm blankets.
"Did you three 'ave fun then?"
Dickon replied to his sister's question. "It's wonderful out there Martha."
"Aye, I know that. But did you 'ave fun?"
"Of course we had fun." Spoke up Colin.
"Well tha's good. I brought you three some 'ot chocolate. Nice and warm it is."
"Thank you Martha."
"Oh Dickon, I found this in the corridor." She held out his carved flute.
"Aye, thank you sister." He took the delicate instrument in his hands.
"Well why don' you play somethin' for us?"
He brought the flute to his lips and began playing a light tune. It was unfamiliar to the group, but they made up words and sang along anyways. When he stopped, Martha exclaimed, "Oh that was lovely, where did you learn that one Dickon?"
He laughed nervously. "I've never played it before, nor heard it in my life."
"Well it was wonderful."
He began to play again, with Martha and Colin singing happily to the song, but Mary sat in silence. She knew that song. She knew she did. She had heard it before, somewhere.
And then she knew. It was the song from the night before; the song that had been carried by the wind.