AUTHOR'S NOTES: Sorry it's taken me so long. To be honest it's simply because I wrote too much. I finally split the chapter into parts because the chapter is still getting longer. I'm sorry again for the wait and I hope, if the grammar is horendious, the story is still good. I'll try to update again this month.
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Colin was entranced by the way the soft orange glow of the fire reflected across Martha's soft expression. There was an ease to the colour which seemed to match Martha's mood perfectly. It was as if she were exempt from all the horrors in the world and nothing would harm her while she finished her chores. "Do you like working here?" Colin asked Martha as she finished sweeping up the soot that spilled out of the fireplace; gently wiping her hands on her apron before turning her head to greet Colin with the sweetest of smiles.
"Sorry, Master Colin" Martha replied, pushing a stray hair out of her eyes. "Did thee ask me sumthin'?"
"Do you like your job?" Colin asked again, raising his voice a little. Proud that he's learned to control the volume of his voice. "You seem to love it."
"I suppos' one mus find joy'n wha' they do," Martha smiled at Colin, "when one dinna av a choice'n ta matter."
Choice. Colin always had the choice; and if it were his choice, he certainly wouldn't want to be paid to sweep. Mary wanted to have a career in sweeping, it seemed. She wanted it all. Not just the fairytale picture she's concotted in her head, but the hardships and reality which come with it. She's claimed to want something of her own but Colin didn't know what that mean't. It was so much work to live commonly and Colin couldn't understand why anyone would choose to do it. "So you don't like your life?" he asked and Martha stopped what she was doing.
She looked up at Colin confused and said, "I never said tha'. I luv my life. I get ta come t'work'n see thee n Miss Mary. Ta work is hard, but I go 'ome feelin' satisfied wit' misself." She ruffled his hair and Colin gently shooed her away, but allowed a smile to remain on his face. "I'm sure Dickon could tell thee all about it."
Colin's smile fell. "I don't care about what Dickon thinks," Colin said harshly. Martha slowly turned her gaze away from Colin. She would have turned sooner, so he wouldn't see the look of disapproval in her eyes, but it was a mixture of confusion and pain which slowed her down. She had never heard anyone speak distastefully of Dickon before, especially in such a disgusted tone, but then again it was Colin. Martha knew Colin had a hard time expressing himself. He started life very troubled. The poor boy never even left his bed until he was ten years old. Just waiting to die. Martha couldn't imagine having a childhood like that, and so tried to have more patience with Colin, but it was so difficult; with that spiteful tongue of his.
"Thar't quarllin' wit Dickon again, art thee?" Martha asked, afraid she might have to talk with her brother, but Colin shook his head.
"No, it's just…" Colin thought his words carefully, "Dickon is all I hear about." Then his voice sharply rose to imitate a certain Lady, " 'Oh Colin! Do you think Dickon will come today?' 'Oh Colin, Dickon said he was going to show us wild ponies in the moor! Won't that be just wonderful?'" Then Colin slumped in his blankets. Pouting, but old enough to know better and too ashamed to show it on his face, hiding his expression under his blankets. Martha just looked at him with compassion. Colin's affections toward his cousin were not a secret to anyone, just like Mary's affections for Martha's brother. They're young, she believed. It's cute now but surely they'll grow out of it one day. They must. Right? "Even today. She slapped Dickon across the face," Martha almost gasped. The last time she saw her brother his cheek did look a little red, but Dickon claimed he slept on his face strangely. Dickon lied to Martha and she didn't like that. Not one bit, "and yet, he still runs to her at the sight of her in distress. Am I even their friend? Or am I annoying them with my presence?"
"Wait, Mary hi-"
"They both came home laughing and smiling," Colin assured her quickly, waving it off as if it was all okay because he said so. Martha didn't push the matter any further. She would speak to her brother about it later, she decided, and knew Colin would throw a fit if she had actually tried at that moment. "It was annoying, and I'm sure it was an accident."
Martha sighed and said, "I think if thee were no' wit' them f'even a moment, they would notice. So dinna worry, Master Colin. Tell thy friends wha' ails thee. They willna let thee down. Tha'll see." Then she bid him goodnight and left the room, but he didn't pay much attention to her. He had his mind on another matter.
Dickon.
Colin had a secret that he could never share, but one he desperately wanted to share with his beloved cousin Mary. Only because, if she were to find out about it, he'd rather she heard it from himself.
You see, the day of Mary's eleventh birthday, Colin returned home from school and entered the mansion. Trying to look as normal as possible; his mouth aching in frustration. Using a considerable force of will, he pushed the corners of his mouth down, but it desperately resisted; taking all that he had to remain neutral, when all that had come of it was an awkward expression. His mouth was comically, but perfectly, like an upside down 'u'; like an ugly rainbow on his face.
Who was he kidding? He knew he couldn't hide it. The bursts of excitement, his heart pounding with nervousness; it's not like any emotion he had felt before. He was about to tell Mary of how he truly felt. How could he not smile?
It seemed as if only by chance he would stumble upon Dickon, who was just leaving Colin's father's office, and had entered the main entrance with an envelope in his hand. "Hello Dickon!" Colin bellowed at him gayly. Dickon, who was startled at the sudden scream of excitement, wasn't as happy at first but once he realized it was Colin who was calling him, he smiled that classic Sowerby grin and greeted him back with the same energy.
"Master Colin! I was no' expectin' t'find tha home so early. Is Miss Mary wit' thee?" He welcomed, turning his head around in circles looking for the young lady. Colin shook his head.
"I was sent home early for Mary's birthday. Mary is stuck with Martha; getting ready for her big day. For the best really. I was hoping to find you. I wanted your opinion about something. Could you keep a secret, if I told you one? Even from Mary?"
Dickon cocked his head quizzically. He's kept secrets before, but something didn't sit right keeping one from Mary, when it involved someone like Colin; and it wasn't because Colin was a horrible person or anything like that. Dickon actually thought Colin had transformed into a wonderful person after he had escaped the darkness of his room. What truly drove Dickon to hesitate was this. Dickon began to feel a border between the friends and it was as if -in that moment- he was asked to pick a side. "Thar't quarrlin' wit Miss Mary?"
Colin's eyes shone with realization and laughter. Adrenaline and excitement still flowed through him, like a giddy boy waiting for Christmas when it was only hours away. He patted Dickon's shoulder and shook his head, "No! Nothing like that, but…" Suddenly he felt his face burn with vulnerability, bringing his feelings to reality, and not just to himself, but one of his best friends; more like a brother; made it all the more thrilling and yet frightening. "...would you be mad to love someone you're not supposed to love, though you can take care of them for the rest of their life?" Dickon, again, turned his head slightly as a sign that he was confused and needed another hint to continue this guessing game Colin had him playing. Stepping closer, the eleven year old's eyes drilled deep into the thirteen year olds. Colin clarified, "Even if the world would reject the very idea of them being together, you love them with all your heart. Would that make you mad?"
Still confused, Dickon asked, "Who's thee speakin' about?"
"Mary," Colin said, speaking as if it couldn't have been more obvious. "Who else wou-"
"Nay, I jus-" Dickon waved it off, instantly uninterested. "What were thee sayn' about Miss Mary?"
"Oh, Dickon, I've seen heaven and have fallen back down to earth. My soul floating in the clouds," he spoke so dramatically and moved in such a way you would almost believe he was being literal or had, at least, stolen some of his father's bourbon. "Do you know such a feeling?"
"I suppose, b'I wouldna' hav said it like tha'," Dickon said honestly. He could tell Colin was in a daze and would have not noticed otherwise. "When d'tha realize ye was feelin' this way?"
"Since I met Mary, honestly," Colin answered, "But they weren't as strong as I feel right now. Do you suppose this is how girls feel?"
"I wouldna' kno', Colin."
Colin continued to almost dance, smiling so happily it was clear Colin may be… well… you know?
"Colin," Dickon began cautiously. "Thar't my friend. Thee do know tha', dunt you?"
Colin stopped everything immediately and gave Dickon his full attention. His grin impossibly widened. "Of course Dickon! You are almost like a brother to me."
Dickon considered this very carefully before he continued, "Well, thar't both verra dere ta me. Thee n Mary, n I dinna wan' ta see any o' ye hurt." Colin's grin slowly began to deflate as he began to understand what Dickon was trying to say, "I reckon we shouldna' court art friends. Mother says it leads ta bad things." Dickon paused while Colin looked at his 'friend' very seriously. "Jus' say'n, Colin"
"I understand," Colin said, balling his fists. Dickon noticed this immediately. "You just want her for yourself." He took a step back as it was clear that Colin was about to explode. "She isn't meant for you. She's meant for me," he growled, determined for success in this new show of dominance.
"She isn't meant for anyone, Colin," Dickon replied back very seriously. "It's her choice n thee kno' she willna hav it any other way. An' if Mary had no' expressed her feelin's for thee now, she meight no' hav any feelin's for thee."
Colin lost it and, before he even knew what he was going to do, punched Dickon hard in the face. Dickon staggered backward, surprised by Colin's quick left hook, but unsurprised he'd done it. "Do you want to say that again?" Colin asked calmly, but his face slowly bloomed a deep shade of red. Growing each second his fury boiled.
"Dunt do it," Dickon said, sensing that another attack was on it's way. It wasn't a threat, but a warning. Dickon did not want to hurt his friend, but Colin was determined to fight him and Dickon was unsure if he had a choice in the matter. Colin confirmed Dickon's theory when he threw another fist into Dickon's other cheek. Dickon staggered back again, shaking his head to regain focus. His heart beating faster as Colin's anger grew. He had to breathe. If Dickon didn't stop to allow himself to calm down, he would have punched Colin back, but of course Colin wouldn't let Dickon get away that easily.
Colin threw himself at Dickon, screaming, "YOU CAN'T HAVE HER! SHE'S MINE! THE GARDEN WAS FOR US! NOT YOU!"
"Hush, Colin," Dickon commanded, but Colin wouldn't stop. Though he didn't yell much anymore, he punched harder, and though he wasn't very strong, he was quick and more annoying. Dickon struggled a bit to keep Colin subdued: Colin flailed his arms wildly, acting like he belonged in the asylum. Dickon held him in both arms in a bear-like grip. He managed to grab one arm before pushing Colin to the ground, "Quiet Colin! B'fore thee-!"
"What's going on here!?" Medlock's voice boomed, shaking the glass until it trailed off into a soft ring. The two boys shuttered at the sight of her. Dickon jumped off Colin as quickly as he could but it was too late, Medlock saw them fighting. She glared at Dickon until she saw who it was he was fighting, and her angry eyes turned sincere and shocked. "Master Colin, are you okay?" She grabbed Colin, and inspected him from head to toe as if Colin were one of her own children, then she spun her attention toward Dickon and glared at him with a new kind of fierceness, Dickon had to turn away, "How could you do this!? You know of Colin's medical history! What were you thinking, boy!?""
Medlock then grabbed Dickon by the arm and led him toward the servant's quarters, "I'll b'telling your mother about this!" she bellowed again, trying not to notice she let a little yorkshire slip.
"Wait!" Dickon yelled, trying to explain himself, "I dinna start t'fight!"
He managed to pull away from her claw-like grip, running toward Colin, and pleaded with his eyes. "Tell her, Colin! Tell her I dinna' start t'fight." But Colin said nothing. He was going to, really he was, but something kept his mouth shut. As if someone had placed a hand over his mouth, so when he tried to talk it was all quiet gibberish. Medlock was not a patient woman and so grabbed Dickon and started to pull him away. Dickon tried fighting back, shouting at Colin to speak, but Medlock had an unbreakable hold on Dickon this time, and though he fought, could not pull away. "Colin, if ye dunt say anythin', I'll be n' verra big trouble. Colin, tell t'truth!" Colin almost wanted to cry when he turned away, blinding himself from Dickon's wrongful punishment, "COLIN! TELL THE TRUTH!"
Now Colin was twelve and he could admit, he really hated that he did that to someone like Dickon, and that's why Mary could never know, but if she must, Colin would like to have an opportunity to explain himself.
After all, Mary was a truly frightening person when Colin's spoiled behavior affected her beloved Dickon.
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"Breathe. Let go. And remind yourself that this very moment is the only one you know you have for sure." - Oprah Winfrey
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CHAPTER TWO
"And When She Bit the Apple She Found Blood"
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Part One
"The Shot Heard Around the World"
Mary woke to the sound of thunder, but her eyes remained closed. Something told her she was only just asleep when the loud clap of the storm's battle made her heart jump. Though the thunder did wake her, it wasn't the reason why she had trouble falling asleep; not that such a loud racket would help. The events of earlier that day were still raw in her mind. The memory of Dickon's forgiving eyes staring directly into her uneasy ones, haunted her. What a beautiful fool, she thought.
The start of winter's winds moaned swiftly in ripples across the moore, as if the moore itself were gifting it's residences with ghostly hymns. It banged against the windows angrily demanding entrance into Mary's room. Even though her eyes were closed, she noticed a lightning strike briefly, illuminating the land, and flooding her chamber as well as her eyelids with a bright glow that was impossible to escape. She almost felt thankful for the storm, because even if she could sleep through it, which she was sure she couldn't, then she would not have to revisit any of her nightmares. Especially the nightmares about India.
So long as it's beautiful. She thought to herself as she quickly got up to get dressed. Might as well go to the garden and enjoy it. And that's exactly what she did. Opening up her window, she looked down. Though she knew others wouldn't approve, she still found herself thinking, It's not too far. She looked at the wall beneath her, which glistened small rivers flowing furiously down the brick. The storm pipe was not too far away from Mary's window and she thought nothing of it when she proceeded to climb out her window, clinged to the pipe, and began to slowly slide down.
Across the moor, the grass rippled over hills like a vegeniful stormy ocean, a surprise blood moon rose high in the sky, and in the Sowerby home, Dickon's eyes were wide open as he laid silently in his bed. He always enjoyed thinking about Mary, but it was even better when she was home. He thought back, again, to the garden. That day two years ago; before she went to any boarding school. In those days, she went to schools, but they were always in Twaite, so she could return home every day, and even visit Dickon if he was in town. Dickon knew it wasn't Archibald's first choice for Mary, but she was so happy, and those days it was difficult for anyone not to give her what she wanted, so conceded to a well known school in Thwaite, but not the prestigious education Colin was getting.
"And leave a mark." She kissed Dickon's cheek and he felt warmth exploding from where she kissed him rolling through him like a high tide. "For a man who has her lips would always have her heart." She continued to stare at him as if she were trying to tell him something and she desperately wanted him to understand.
She wanted him to kiss her back, he felt, or it was as simple as Dickon wanting to kiss her back. He's unsure, but before he could come to any conclusion, Colin was right around the corner. "Do one about Medlock!" he excitedly yelled, hobbling closer to them.
Mary gave Dickon a disappointed smile before turning toward her cousin, "Mistress Mary quite Contrary, Medlock had the unfortunate pleasure to meet. Expecting a lady, but her clothes were untidied. Oh Lord in heaven, what have you given me?" Dickon and Colin immediately started laughing which pleased Mary before she continued, "Miss-!"
"Mistress Marrry!" Medlock called, surprising the trio. Mary has been much kinder to the staff of the manor but Medlock would always be the original villain. Always talking to Archibald about Mary going to some boarding school in London since Mary's arrival. Seemingly adamant about Mary becoming the most perfect lady, Medlock is sure Mary should become, but Mary would never become that. Never! Mary immediately grabbed Colin's hand. She couldn't risk his improved but bad health, keeping her from escaping.
Knowing this, Dickon urged her to hurry, as she pulled Colin toward the latest secret they found in the garden. At the farthest edges of the garden, large hedges towered the walls of the garden; stretching down the walls and sometimes crossing the walls and creating their own labyrinth; overlapping the original one. "Blast! Where is that girl?" Medlock's intrusive voice seemed to chase them, and Dickon pushed Mary and Colin in a hedge before climbing in himself. What was originally perceived as solid as the wall it leaned against, inside the wall-like-hedges were actually long tunnels, purposely cut to be hollow so the top of the tunnels were arched and the walls were clipped into clean lines creating the illusion of small hallways. The garden trio had no idea why they were made, why they were hidden, or who was keeping them up. They tried asking Ben about it, but he didn't know what they were talking about. Finally they concluded it to be the magic of the garden and didn't tell anyone else about it. Not even Martha.
"Mistress Mary! Come out, I have important news to share!" Dickon knew if it were important, Mary should go, but… He looked and saw that Mary was cowering behind his shoulder, grabbing his arm in her anxious state. Colin was already trying to calm her, but had failed to do so. She was always so afraid that her life at Misselthwaite were only a dream; always so afraid she would lose Yorkshire at any moment. Dickon chuckled, pushing some of her hair behind her ear, believing -at the time- that such a scenario would be impossible. Who would send away Mary? She was released from her anxious trance almost instantly and smiled gently at Dickon. "Mary, come out this instant! Your uncle has requested an audience with you!"
Mary's eyes shut, defeatedly, as she let her hands drop from Dickon's arm. She waited until Medlock turned her back before climbing out of her hiding place. Medlock jerked her head around at the sound of moving grass and gasped upon seeing Mary, momentarily wondering where she came from. "Girl!" Medlock cried, pressing a hand to her chest, "You nearly gave me a heart attack!" Mary waited for Medlock to catch her breath, having no intention to apologize. Finally Medlock waved it off, "Well, come with me. Your uncle has some exciting news to share with you." Medlock led her out of the garden, trying to place a hand on Mary's back, but Mary would only shake it off angrily.
Dickon still smiled at this memory, though they sent Mary away, because she came back and he was sure she'd always come back. He decided he wasn't going to get any sleep and quietly he climbed out of bed, making sure not to wake his youngest brother Ollie, knowing he didn't sleep very well. He was five now, but Dickon remembered when he was first brought home and how it irritated Dickon that he could not sleep through his new brother's constant crying. Dickon's mother told him it was because Ollie didn't know how to sleep but just like everyone else must learn.
Now a pro, Dickon exited the bedroom, and smiled that his brother was loudly snoring and made sure to close the door as quietly as he could. Outside of his family home, he pulled on his jacket and walked toward the stables hoping Jump would be there. Jump didn't have to be if he didn't want to, which is why there was never a door in the stables. There was no need for one. Jump was wild, and Dickon knew if he ever wanted to leave there would be nothing Dickon could do to stop it. At least this way, Dickon was sure Jump would never hurt himself trying, because he would if he meant to escape. Much like Mary, he thought to himself. Dickon stepped into the stables where he found an empty stall. He sighed, wondering if Jump went for a walk. Then he looked up into the night sky. The storm's battle looked very fierce and dangerous, but it was far enough away Dickon could appreciate it's beauty and thought, perhaps a walk was not such a bad idea.
Back at the manor, Mary looked up at her window and wondered if it was too late to climb back up. The storm had been very fierce and made all the ledges and pipes so slippery she could barely hold on. Then she looked down to see how much sliding she still needed to finish before…
Suddenly, she heard a sound in the wind. Mary wrapped her arms around the storm pipe, locking her hands into a small space which held the pipe to the building, so she could look down again and see what was approaching. The sound became louder, the closer it approached, and transformed into almost like a musical tone. Perhaps it is just the wind, Mary thought, turning back around, but then she heard a whinny and Mary sharply spun her head toward the sound. She saw a white speck on the sea of grassy waves, stirring with the storm's anger. "Dickon?" she whispered when the speck transformed into a horse crying out to her. She looked closer to see if there was a rider but before she could come to any conclusion her foot slipped. Mary's heart stopped, and everything froze for a moment.
She felt her feet standing in mid air, as if she were flying for a moment, and then all together she dropped out of the sky toward the ground. She was surprised to have enjoyed her fear for once. She felt her heart sped up as the ground chased her. She closed her eyes, knowing if this is how she died, she would rather die at home anyway, but instead of the fatal impact she was expecting, she landed painfully on something hard. Something which kept her sitting up, despite the pounding she had in her lower back. "Ow," she whined quietly before opening her eyes to her savior. "Oh Jump!" she greeted, amusingly trying to calm her heart down, definitely enjoying the brief thrilling moment she had. Mary had landed perfectly on Jump's back. Kind of like in books she's read from America. Like a cowboy. Cowgirl. She giggled at the thought. "Have you come alone? Where's Dickon?"
Jump snorted at her a couple of times, sniffing her foot, checking to make sure she was alright before it trotted off.
Dickon was about halfway to Misselthwaite, when he finally sat down to take a break. He wasn't sure where he was going, but instinctively headed toward the garden. He heard Jump's winny and turned toward his call. He was happy to see Jump was alright, and as he trotted closer, Dickon's smile grew wider, noticing the lady Jump was carrying. Did Jump bring Miss Mary to him? He liked to believe so. If so, it meant it was the magic which brought them together. Just as it did the first time. Always bringing them together. Forever.
"What are you doing up so late?" she asked, looking just as happy to see him.
"I was goin' ta ask thee t'same thing?" Dickon then gestured toward Jump, "First thee hits me, now t'lady wishes t'steal my horse."
"But sir, you have a very fine horse," Mary playfully pouted. "One, I'm afraid, is good enough for the main house."
"Hear tha', Jump?" Dickon humorously replies, "Tha'll be a fancy horse now." Jump snorted in what they both assumed was distaste, causing Mary to laugh and it spread a satisfying warmth and relief throughout Dickon's chest. He ran toward them, skillfully leaping onto Jump so he landed gently and perfectly behind Mary. Mary was still busy trying to control her laughter as he boarded, but he didn't want her to stop laughing. "Let's go, then. Now tha' Jump belongs ta thee." Finally Mary allowed herself to give in to the uncontrollable laughter as Dickon wrapped an arm around her waist so she wouldn't fall.
As soon as they made it to Misselthwaite, Dickon climbed off of Jump. Mary smiled down at Dickon when she took his hand to help her down. They walked together toward the garden, and after she explained the latest rumor roaming around her school, Dickon realized he was still holding her hand. Her hand was soft like rabbit fur, but smooth as silk.
He kept his hand very still but did nothing as Mary explored his palm with her thumb. He knew his hands were rough and scarred from work. Nothing like Mary's perfect, unblemished skin, and felt a little concerned that holding his hand might not be as pleasant as holding her's. Little did he know, Mary was actually enjoying herself holding Dickon's hand. He had multiple scars overlapping each other, blending into the lines creating his hand print. As she traced the more prominent scars with her thumb, she silently wondered how he got them.
"... she said she could change Thomas, but I believe no one can be changed," Mary continued as Dickon shook his head to regain focus, feeling bad that he hadn't been paying attention. "Do you believe people can change?"
Dickon shrugged and admitted, "People can change, if he wanted ta." Too focused on the hand he didn't want to let go.
Mary then continued to think about it, "I suppose I've changed and I know Colin's changed." She paused, stuck in thought. When she broke out of her trance she turned toward Dickon, "I don't think you've changed, have you?"
Dickon had changed. He knew it. He felt it. He changed the moment Martha told him of Mary's existence. The ghostly presence of Lady Lily walking around the halls. Martha told him this so he would stay away, but he was just too curious. Only hearing stories of Colin's mother, because he was too young to remember the tragedy, but after seeing her portrait for the first time he couldn't help but want to meet her. He could see why it was so sad. She was beautiful.
"It's hard ta notice change, sumtimes," Dickon answered honestly, "If I had changed, I wouldna kno'."
Mary released the tightness in her grip, but when Dickon tried to pull his hand away, assuming she wanted him to let go, she claimed his hand again and Dickon responded so. Dickon unlocked the garden and stepped aside so that Mary could walk through first. She giggled approvingly.
"Wats thee doin' out at this time o' night?" Dickon couldn't help but ask.
"I couldn't sleep and wanted to watch the lightning storm from the garden," she said excitedly, as she pointed up into the sky. The pelting rain that was produced by the storm had now simmered into a gentle mist, "Isn't it beautiful?"
"Verra beautiful," he said, always mesmerized by Mary's passion for simple things, "I heard ye's helpin' Colin wit' his lessons. How did thee manage tha'?"
Mary laughed out loud, enjoying the memory, "I explained to Colin how boring my classes are, and after hearing of the lecture I was given, about 'The History of the Handkerchief and the Ladies who Have Perfected them', he agreed. So now, whenever Colin receives a text book, he sends me one too. Claiming he lost his books so uncle would not be suspicious."
"Ta History o' ta Handkerchief?" Dickon asked as if it were the most 'incredible' thing he had ever heard. He had to admit it sounded quite boring and failed to see how such a lecture would ever be important.
"And the Ladies who Have Perfected Them," Mary giggled. It was infectious to Dickon's ears; as soon as she would giggle, he found himself chuckling alongside her. "Besides, I'm sure Colin only uses me so I can write him detailed notes, and he can run off and play with the other boys." Dickon didn't like hearing this, but Colin's rare selfish moments were not a surprise. They paused for a moment to simply enjoy the great peace they were feeling. Then Mary finally admitted, "It's a shame you can not attend school with us. I'm sure you would have done exceptionally. And you wouldn't use me so you didn't have to do the hard work."
"Tha thinks verra highly o' me," Dickon replied, trying not to imagine himself in fine clothes, and eating expensive food; most of it he's sure to throw away.
"I'm only stating a fact, Dickon," she said, surprised by his answer.
"Well thee's no' always right," he said quickly, wanting her to change the subject.
She was silent and he could feel Mary trying to read him, but what he didn't know was that she felt him notice her, so she backed down. "I was only saying you would do well. Not that you must go. If you don't want to go, I understand, but I wish you knew you could do it, if given the opportunity." Then she smirked and said, "High society rules are stupid."
"It's no' sumthin' I think about," Dickon admitted, hoping she would just change the subject. It wasn't that he felt as if he couldn't do well in high society, and once upon a time he did like to imagine what it was like to have all that money, but now he found himself in love with a girl of that world and it makes him feel lesser.
Instead, she asked mindlessly, in that playful tone that only meant to be that. Playful, but had all the seriousness Mary was trying not to show. "Why not?"
"We-well I…" Dickon blushed, suddenly thinking about a question he had purposely avoided for this specific reason. "Schoolin' takes money my family dinna' hav,'' Mary noticed Dickon became very self-conscious, "It's no' sumethin' thee dunt kno'."
"Sorry. You're right," she said, wanting nothing more than to turn back time a few minutes and stop herself from ever asking. It's just that, she wants to give him anything he wants and if she were a gentleman she could, but she's not. Mary's smile dropped and she let her face fall into her hands. Not sad, but feeling extremely foolish; curling toward her center in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, that was mean. That was very mean."
Dickon smiled at her, stroking her back gently, "I kno' ye meant nuthin' by it." Mary allowed a single eye to peek through her palms, exposing her beautiful specs of gold, and Dickon took a hand to pull it away so he could see more of her face. "Ye hav' nuthin' ta worry about."
Mary smiled at him; still embarrassed.
He blushed when he saw her pull her hair behind her ear. He focused on the way strands would gracefully fall from her fingers and frame her face perfectly. It wasn't until his eyes slowly drifted down her jaw and at her mouth did he realize Mary was talking to him again. "You know, Dickon?" she asked and Dickon had to blink his eyes a few times to regain focus.
"Sorry?"
She giggled again and his frantic blushing lightened up until it was a gentle blush of serene and satisfaction. "Nevermind," she said, looking only mildly irritated but mostly amused. Then she sat down on the swing and motioned him to join her, but Dickon hesitated. "It's alright. I promise not to hit you again."
Dickon laughed, "Thy's right hook is impressive."
"I slapped you. I didn't box your ears."
He laughed harder. "Aye, I know. I can still feel the sting," He said in mocking pain.
Mary blushed. Her eyes widened in horror. "Really?"
Dickon immediately sat down and took her hands in his. "Nay. I'm only jokin'. I kno' thee dinna mean ta hurt me. Like ye said. I startled thee. Jus' …" he began again. Despite the forgiveness Dickon judged, he knew the action still must be addressed, "… please dinna do it again."
Mary smiled, feeling strangely reassured, "I promise."
They just stared at each other for a moment before Dickon found the courage to speak again, "M-Mary? I hav' wanted ta say sumthin' about how I feel about thee n I kno' I'm no'-'' Dickon was silenced by the quick peck of Mary's lips on his. She knew she wasn't supposed to. After all, he is an official employee at the manor, and born of lower class, but she didn't care. In that magical moment; the storm protecting her from her nightmares, the rush she got when she climbed out her window, Jump saved her from the danger and brought her to her favorite gardener; she'd forgotten all about her promises to not act so suddenly, and as soon as she remembered, felt as if she were a troublemaker from that moment on. He was a fairy prince; a long forgotten precious stone sculpted beautifully from the earth; an angel. How could she not pursue him? He never broke his paralyzed gaze with her but his eyes widened, and she marveled at the look Dickon was giving her. She stared at him, because he stared at her like she was something worth being marveled at. "I-I… I…"
Mary giggled, breaking the connection and looked up toward the storm. Light flooded the garden and for a second it was almost as bright as a new day. Mary pointed toward the sky and a few seconds later Dickon heard the loud boom of the storm's battle. "Look! Isn't it amazing!" Mary exclaimed, her voice almost drowned in the battle.
"Aye," Dickon said, giving her hand a squeeze, understanding that it was Mary and her kiss he was referring to.
Mary huddled closer to him, shivering. Dickon pulled his arm out of one of his coat's sleeves, so he could invite Mary in and share the warmth. She scooted in closer so she could cover herself as much as she could. The both of them were completely relaxed as they watched the lighting storms above.
"Martha's birthday's soon."
Mary turned to look at him, amused, "You don't think I've forgotten?"
"Nay…" Dickon hesitated. He now kept his eyes on the ground, refusing to look at her, realizing how close her face was to his and as much as he wanted to kiss her back, he still had no spine to do so; "I mean… Thy's friends wit Martha. I kno' she'd luv it if thee came." Mary smiled; knowing it's not just she who would love it if Mary attended.
"I don't know," she said, her smile falling. "I need to speak with my uncle and if he's still angry with me, I'm not sure he'd grant me the permission. I am trying to stay out of trouble and I wouldn't want you two in trouble on my behalf."
This disappointed Dickon and not because she wouldn't risk trouble for him, but because he really did want her to attend. "Thy's uncle is no' an unreasonable man."
Mary nodded.
Mary and Dickon watched the storms until it concluded. They said their goodbyes as if nothing had happened before they watched the storms together. Dickon still wanted to kiss her but instead, he gave her a hug goodnight and walked her home. Her kiss was enough for now, but he did desperately want to pay back the act. He knew she wanted him to kiss her, but he never was as brave as Mary.
Mary waited by the front door before she was sure Dickon had left. She walked toward the storm pipe again and mentally prepared herself for the climb. Falling was easy, she decided, climbing was hard. Then her stomach growled something ugly and loud, it seemed to tear apart her insides, but Mary understood what was going on. Hunger cramps. She hasn't experienced them since she first arrived at Misselthwaite, and remembered almost immediately how unpleasant they were. For the first time her uncle punished her by going without supper and he was right. Being hungry was inspiring her to be more respectful. Even to those she hates. She promised herself, when she learned of love, she would never go hungry again. Never hungry for food, or true love.
Mary went to the orchards, thanking God food grew outside.
.
Archibald sighed as he sipped his tea. The mornings were getting hard to deal with again. Not because of some looming dark cloud created by tragedy, but because all he could do is worry about Mary and her future. Lilly was always a woman who was too shy and humble to ask for anything and assumed Mary would be just the same. It certainly seemed that way when he first met her. She was just like Lily. Almost like a clone. From the top of her head to the bottom of her feet, and because of that he would do almost anything for his niece, but Lily was never this complicated. He didn't understand why Mary seemed to work so hard to sabotage her own reputation, but then again, he had to admit, what did he actually know about Mary?
He remembered Rose. She was always mean. Nothing was ever good enough. She would often yell at the staff for doing their jobs wrong, and even yelled when they did their jobs right. All because she became bored. Most people didn't know this but he was supposed to marry Rose, not Lily. It didn't work out because she was always bored with him, no matter how much he tried to win her affections, never seeing a more beautiful woman; before his wife of course. One day Rose never came back, and he hadn't heard from her ever since. After that Lily would visit him more often to help heal from the grief and, not very long after, fell in love. He hadn't even thought of Rose until Lily would sadly bring her up, missing her twin, and once more when Mary first arrived at Misselthwaite.
She was Rose's daughter, Archibald remembered, not Lily's. So she would be like her mother and that could change. Mary wasn't in Rose's care anymore. She was in Archibald's care, and Mary has proven to love like Lily. He needed to keep that alive. For Lily, for Misselthwaite, and for Mary of course.
It was then Colin appeared in the dining room. Despite being fully dressed and looking as gentlemanly as ever, he still walked in like he had just risen from the dead. He poured himself a cup of tea and looked through all the papers that Archibald had no interest in. Archibald chuckled at his son, alerting Colin. "Wha-? Oh, forgive me father, good morning."
"Good morning Colin," Archibald greeted proudly. Spending time with his son, it was the best part of his day. He loved to watch Colin walk around the manor and run through the moors, but it also made him feel insecure with his abilities as a father. After all, it wasn't he who saved Colin. It was Mary.
"And Dickon," Colin said suddenly. Archibald broke from his deep thought and focused as Colin took a bite of his jam toast. Archibald shook his head. He hadn't realized he had been talking outloud. How much did he say?
"Sorry?"
"You were whispering that you like watching me run around and that Mary saved me, but it wasn't just Mary. It was Dickon too."
"Dickon?" Archibald asked quizzically as if saying the name for the first time and found it very strange, but it was not the first time he heard that name come up and being a regular subject of conversation, Archibald thought it was finally time to learn more of the quiet undergardener. "Dickon who?"
"Dickon Sowerby, of course?" Colin said matter of factly, "He's been our friend since Mary found Mother's garden."
"Friend? Well I'm sure that's okay. So long as the relationship is appropriate." Both men understood Archibald was referring to Mary. Colin making friends with a boy is natural, but Mary making friends with a boy was troublesome.
Colin shrugged, too busy eating to fully comprehend where the conversation was going, "I mean Dickon is very polite, and addresses us with the utmost respect." Archibald smiled upon hearing this, "But we are very close. I don't think there is anything Dickon doesn't know about us and about Mary."
That worried him. For what reason did Dickon have to know such intimate details of Mary? "Really?" Archibald said, and if Colin had not been too busy with his breakfast, he might have noticed his father's disapproving tone.
Colin nodded nonchalauntly.
"Well, I can not hear that and just look away." Colin stopped chewing, feeling his heart stop. "I'll have to speak to him, just so it's clear that he is an employee and he'll have to act more professionally around the residence here."
Colin almost dropped his toast, "Like I said, he's verra polite n'..." Colin's eyes widened as Archibald sharply turned at the sound of lower class yorkshire leaving his son's lips. It was as if he swore and it made a look of betrayal in the elder master's eyes.
"He's very polite, Colin. Very."
Of course Colin knew proper english but he had taken to the speech of the moor natives. Besides, Colin knew his father wasn't giving him a grammar lesson, but reminding him of his place. And high society gentlemen don't talk like common folk. "Father? He's my best friend," he said carefully. Hoping his father would understand, "He taught me how to walk." Archibald did not know this, and it's something he's ashamed even a ghostly form of his wife had to witness. "But no one is closer to him than Mary. Mary tells him everything. She'll be very sad if you try and take him away from her"
Trust me, Colin silently added.
Dickon Sowerby? Who was he? A moor boy, undergardener, who happens to know everything there is to know about Mary and even taught his son how to walk? Archibald felt the stab of shame. What kind of father was he? To ignore Colin for ten years and to have almost turned Mary away as soon as she arrived? He should thank Dickon, but Archibald would be damned if he would. He couldn't thank Dickon, because that would be admitting his fault and he wasn't yet ready for that to become his reality. After all, he wouldn't need to be cruel toward the boy, Mary and Colin just needed to spend more time with family. Perhaps they could travel, or start eating lunch together. He knows Mary and Colin love eating lunch with Dickon, but Dickon didn't need to be around his children all the time. He's sure three hours a day was more than enough for a friendly visit, and he's sure he could give Dickon more duties around the gardens so he could pay him more. For all he's done, of course.
Then he remembered his wife. She had a favorite gardener who she was very close to and often shared with him her deepest insecurities. Ben knew things about Lily that not even Archibald knew, whether if she were venting about an argument she may have had with Archibald or past demons she was not willing to resurface. Even before Archibald noticed his eventual-late-wife's existence, too busy trying to impress Rose, Lily was laughing with Ben. It was almost fate that both Colin and Mary would have their own favorite gardener. Colin was even lucky enough that this gardener was his age. Lily had befriended an adult and so the rules were quite different.
She looked to Ben almost like a wise elder, or magical grandfather. Colin looked to this Dickon fellow as a friend. A best friend apparently. It was special in it's own right; but then he thought about Mary. He had no idea how Mary felt about Dickon. Mary was Dickon's age too and that's what worried Archibald. What would happen if Mary should fall in love with this Dickon character? They were young and it would only be natural. Dickon could take advantage of Mary and ruin her reputation forever; intentionally or not. He had always heard countless stories from Rose, about all the stable boys and working hands she would just give herself away to and not because she was in love, but because she was bored.
Was Mary bored?
He thought of that school. The school which seemed to always call him as soon as Mary was expelled. He can't imagine why they are so eager for her to apply, and it worries him. Though he wanted her to improve quickly, that didn't mean he wanted to intentionally harm her, and it felt wrong to send her to a school, which gets excited by bad behavior. He needed to speak with Mary.
Colin was silent. He did not want to start his day like that and was irritated by his father, but not yet comfortable with being angry with him. He let his mind drift back to Mary's eleventh birthday, beginning the memory where it left off.
He remembered how bad he felt, after he had gotten Dickon in trouble. He didn't even bother telling Mary of his affections. The moment was lost, as Colin's new attention was captured by his best friend and searched all over Misselthwaite to find him. Of course he was in the garden. Dickon didn't look upset, but he did have a red hand print still visible on his cheek. Medlock had to be stopped, Colin thought. Mary once said Colin had to be stopped, and with his new look on life, Colin agreed; but he couldn't stop and he didn't know why. It was like hardwired into him, as if there was no one else he could be than this horribly selfish raja.
"I'm sorry Dickon," Colin said from the entrance of the garden, as if he had no right to step inside. "I'm sorry." He heard Dickon sigh before the gardener turned to smile at Colin, forgiving and patient, but whether it was because Colin disagreed with him or plainly didn't believe him, he continued with his apology. "I'll tell Medlock what happened. I promise I will."
"Colin," Dickon began, "I kno'." He sighed again, sounding strangely exhausted. "I kno'." This was why Dickon was his best friend. No soppy words, or needless battles, and Dickon forgave him immediately, though Colin knew fully well he didn't deserve it.
It was the most selfless thing Colin had ever experienced yet, and once again he didn't pay it back when he had the chance. After helping Dickon for a few hours, he became tired and Dickon told him he'd finish where Colin left off. Colin was delighted as he made his way back to his father, confident he'd be in his office, but Colin never entered the office, because as soon as his hand hovered over the study's door handle, he heard Medlock's voice and Mary's name.
"She needs to stay away from that Sowerby boy! Someone must say it; something needs to be done!"
"Who?" Archibald asked, as if on cue. Colin never understood why his father could never remember Dickon. It wasn't as if Mary and Colin didn't talk about him, but it seemed the master would soon forget the young gardener the second the master's children would change the subject.
"Dickon Sowerby," Medlock said sharply, "A young gardener, who likes to spend quite a bit of time with your son. Especially your niece."
"Calm down, Medlock. He's only a child, correct? What harm could he truly do?" Archibald replied, but there was a tune in his voice, which Colin understood his father was not totally unconvinced. "I think it's wonderful Mary and Colin have a friend their age. Especially a friend they can count on. The children have only spoken highly of him. Besides, Colin could use the exercise and Mary could perhaps learn to socialize." Colin heard a rustle before his father's voice fell into a more empathetic one, "The poor girl has already gone through too much, and you heard her previous headmasters. Even the best instructors in Thwaite say Mary is too much of a menace, which has been hard for me to believe because she is a complete angel at home. I have considered that perhaps she is not a right fit for society. She could stay at Misselthwaite forever." Colin felt his heart jump excitedly at this.
"While that's all and swell, you must face the fact that she must have an education to become a lady. Your house may live forever but you certainly will not. Think of her security."
"I have. One day Colin will become Master of the Estate and he'll take care of Mary."
"What about when Colin gets married. You think Mary would be happy to watch someone else's life move on without her? To burden another family because she never learned to rise above her own pride. And if you think she wouldn't consider a dirty moore boy for a husband then you haven't seen the way she looks at Dickon Sowerby."
He heard his father laugh, "Melock. I understand your concern, but this Dickon-character sounds like a sensible boy and even if they may have childish infatuation for each other I'm sure a servant would never risk his own security to disgrace the mistress of the house."
"Are you saying you will not accept the boy should he ask?"
"I'm saying he won't have a job here anymore if he asked."
Colin heard this and ran off. When he entered his room, he looked down into the bowl full of water and felt his neck and palms already wet from nervousness. Looking at himself in the reflection, he realized he could either use this to his benefit or do the proper thing and warn his best friend. Which one will he regret less?
Which one? Colin asked himself again, before his father's voice broke him out of his trance and Colin remembered he was in the present. Not the past.
"Please send for Martha?" Archibald asked his server as he picked up Archibald's empty plate. The servant bowed respectfully before leaving the room.
It was only a moment before Martha entered the room, and curtsied at her employer before greeting him; professionally as always, "Mornin' Master Craven. 'Ow may I 'elp thee?"
"Martha? Your last name is Sowerby correct?" Martha nodded, "And Dickon, I assume there is a relation?" Martha nodded again.
"He's my younger brother." She swallowed hesitantly, "Master Craven. He's no' n trouble again, is he?"
Archibald pitied the look of worry on the young girl's face. He smiled falsely at her, and reassured her that there was no trouble at all. He merely wanted to get to know his children's friend. Martha smiled at this.
"Well, Mary luvs spendin' time n her garden. She's even taken an interest n gardenin' herself. Dickon taught her, of course, but nuthin' a lady shouldna do. Jus' a bit o' light prunin'. An' occasionally sum new additions." Archibald smiled at all of this. It was as if Lily were still walking through the halls of Misselthwaite. Mary reminded him so much of his wife, it was as if Mary were his daughter. He started, very much, to think of Mary like this and only hoped she'd feel the same. After all, he loved her and wanted to make her feel at home, but it also meant that sometimes he needed to put his foot down.
"That's wonderful. Truely, it warms my heart to hear such things, but I need to speak with my niece. Could you fetch her for me?"
"I'm sorry Master Craven, but Mary already left befor' I even had t'chance ta open her curtains."
"Left the manor?" Archibald asked, astonished. He paled, worried about her health, "Before breakfast? But I sent her to bed without supper. The poor girl must be starving."
Martha hadn't known Archibald made her skip dinner and she felt surprisingly irritated at it. "She meight have gone ta t' garden early," she said matter-of-factly. "I'll go n' fine out." She curtsied at him before leaving.
Colin then wiped the corner of his mouth, standing up quickly, "I'd better go too, sometimes I like to go to the garden alone."
"You like gardening son?" Archibald asked.
Colin nodded, "I never got to meet my mother, but when I'm tending the flowers she picked out herself, in the place that was like her sanctuary, I feel close to her. Like I'm spending the quality time I missed out on."
Archibald kissed his son's cheek. "Have fun on the moor son, but please be careful."
Colin was embarrassed but shrugged it off. He loved the attention he received from his father now he was home, but was still a young man and didn't like it when the servants would witness his father kissing his cheek. "I will, I promise."
Martha asked around for her brother. If anyone knew where Mary was, it was him. On her way she heard snickering and rumors. Nothing out of the ordinary, but what caught Martha's attention was who they were talking about. Martha knew that if she had noticed so quickly of Mary and Dickon's relationship, then others must have noticed too. And the gossip was both a mixture of truth and exaggeration. Like there is a truthful rumor that Mary was becoming more bold around Dickon, but there was also an exaggeration that Dickon had already proposed to Mary. Martha couldn't believe the fantasies that were being made, after all Mary was only twelve and Dickon fourteen. Surely they haven't even thought about such things.
She went out of the house in the direction of the kitchen gardens where she found Dickon happily working. She took a moment to just watch him. He looked so serene and it made her happy to see him so happy. This is what she wants for Mary. Peace. After all that poor girl's been through, it's all she needs and deserves. Peace. Martha stepped closer and Dickon swung his head around enthusiastically, "Miss Mary?"
"Sorry," Martha teased, "Jus' me."
Dickon smiled at his sister but she laughed at his obvious disappointment. "Is there sumthin' Master Craven needs?"
He felt suddenly eager to impress Archibald and he knew it wasn't because of his job. Mary loved her uncle. She loved her uncle like a father and for that reason Dickon would always be on the Master's beck and call.
"Master Craven wanted ta have breakfast wit' Miss Mary," Martha said. Dickon immediately stood up, wiping his hands on his trousers. "Do thee kno' where she ran off ta?"
Dickon thought about it, "Aye"
Martha saw the confusion in Dickon's expression before she took an apple from her apron pocket, "If you see her. Please tell her to eat something? She went without supper last night."
Dickon nodded and turned to run out of the garden, but before he even had the chance Martha stopped him.
"Wait!" Martha began; almost forgetting to ask, "I heard from Master Colin, Mary struck thee? Why dinna thee tell me?"
Dickon looked down shuffling his foot, "I startled Mary. Ye dunt need ta kno' everythin' tha' had 'appened."
Martha didn't appreciate her brother's new tone. "Aye, I do! Th'art my younger brother! N' it's my job ta look after thee while ye's not in art parents care."
"It wor n accident." Dickon concluded. Unmoved.
"Art thee sure? I kno' Mary has a temper n if I-"
"Nay!" he exclaimed. He couldn't believe he was stuck with such a conversation when he needed to find Mary, "It wor an accident."
Martha accepted it as the truth. She had no reason to doubt her brother, and she knew Mary had been a bit sensitive. After all, she'd just returned from school. Everyone knows she's unpredictable when she returns, but that's no reason for her to take it out on her loved ones. "Alreight then. I believe thee, but jus' make sure it dinna happen again 'n I'll be sure ta remin' her tha' misself."
"Please Martha," Dickon begged, "Dunt." Then he ran off, knowing there was no answer to give. No reassurance. He's not sure who would tell her. Surely it wasn't Colin. Sometimes he may act like a prick, but Colin was his best friend and treated Dickon as so. Most of the time. Though his heart knew it was Colin, Dickon would pay it no heed. He had no proof it was Colin, and as far as Dickon was concerned, that wasn't the issue. Mary was missing and he needed to find her and make sure she was okay.
He put the apple in one of his jacket's pockets with only one thought, I hate it when she dinna eat.
.
On his way to warn Dickon, Colin found Mary in the orchards. Surprised she wasn't in the garden, he was going to tease her, but upon seeing the pile of apple cores, he suddenly didn't find it funny. "Mary?" Mary woke up to a jolt, clumps of dirt and bits of apple still stuck to Mary's face. "Father was worried when you didn't come to breakfast."
Mary stretched her arms up toward the sky, the morning sun showered her, "Really? He wasn't furious with me?" Colin could tell the question was genuine, but there was a hint of dark sarcasm in her deflated tone. "He's usually furious with me."
"Well then, stop acting like a delinquent," he said matter-of-factly. It was the answer to everything. Why couldn't she just do what she was told. Colin grew up and learned to follow the rules. Sure he doesn't like it at times, but it was the job. If he could do it, couldn't Mary do the same?
"If that's all it is then."
"It's as simple as that."
"I am not a delinquent!" Furious he'd even suggest such a thing. What did he really think? She was so bored she just started fighting the first person to look at her? Doesn't he know her better than that? I guess not, she thought.
"Yes you are. You're supposed to be a lady but instead you're acting like some London street vermin."
Mary scoffed, "And what would you know of being a lady."
"Lots of things," he said arrogantly.
"Oh really," she challenged, "Like what?"
Colin stood up and straightened his back like a real professor, "Ladies need to be humble, pure…" Mary rolled her eyes as Colin continued to lecture her about his 'infinite' knowledge of women. Besides, it was nothing she hadn't heard before. "... that's why they must be protected. You're delicate Mary."
Now Mary was to her feet because when Colin said delicate, Mary heard useless, "I am not the delicate flower you think of me, Colin Craven. I may not be very proud of my actions but I had no choice. People shouldn't get away with evil."
"She drew on a photo of Dickon's face. I wouldn't call that evil."
"It wasn't just any photo!" Mary exclaimed, furious that she had to explain herself; furious that Colin wasn't as furious as she. "It was the one on the swing. When the garden was still a secret. When we made our promise to be friends forever. Before any of this!" Mary pointed toward her face. Colin flinched looking away from the ugly bruise which had now become a milky green color. "She did it because she knew it was important to me. She was provoking me."
"And you gave in?"
"Well she was asking for it."
"And why did you think she would? Where are you now?"
"Colin. I'm a very generous human being. If you ask for food, well I have more than enough to supply. If you are kind to me, I would return the same kindness, and if you ask for me to fight you, well it will be my pleasure," Mary said, but she hated to admit Colin had a point. If she had done something differently, perhaps she wouldn't have slept all night in the orchards, after she had eaten almost ten apples to herself. She needed to make a change. She felt it in her bones. Like growing pains.
Mary threw her face into her hands. This was all her fault and she needed to fix it, and whatever kind of change that meant, Mary wasn't sure.
...
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