Mary looked at her reflection in a small pool. She fiddled with her appearance until she was half-satisfied before she left the garden, acting as normal as possible before entering the manor to meet with her uncle. She knew he would be in his study. Though he was home he still had to work, and it amazed Mary how much work he had. While he finished signing and looking over documents, Mary took a moment to admire her uncle's office. It really was beautiful. A large library full of books Mary didn't dare hope to finish; a large desk where every nook and cranny is used to it's fullest capacity. Mary didn't like to admit it, for fear of sounding foolish, but if she were to join high society she'd much rather be a lord than a lady. Her uncle didn't even look up when he finally acknowledged her existence. He seemed to be reading another document, but Mary knew he wanted to speak to her about what happened at breakfast and at school. Mary wasn't sure if she even had answers yet, because it was about Dickon.
"Why weren't you at breakfast?" Archibald asked before he set down the document and gave Mary his full attention.
Mary allowed her eyes to scan the office one last time before she locked her eyes with a dusty chess board. She gestured toward it and Archibald motioned her to bring it over. She did and they set up the board.
Mary moved her first pawn and answered, "I didn't think you wanted to see me."
Archibald just stared at her incredibly, "You think like a silly girl sometimes. Of course I want to see you. I may be very disappointed with your choices of late, but I still love you very much." He moved his first pawn, "So no more ridiculous notions."
"Yes sir," Mary smiled at her uncle. Though she was there to be lectured, somehow the talking died down until all of their focus went to the game. Archibald was much more experienced than Mary, but she was sure he underestimated her. She went over the different strategies in her head. She could persuade him to leave his king wide open by tricking him into thinking he could easily attack her king. She just needs to figure out what he's trying to do. She saw his eyes move from piece to piece before she realized. He's going to try and break her more powerful pieces leaving the pawns alone for now. Mary paled at this realization.
"Why did you fight those girls?"
"They've been bullying me since I've arrived. They can leave sewing needles in my ballet shoes but I can't punch her in the face for… for… for destroying my photo of… the garden. I missed home. I never wanted to leave. Why did you make me leave?" Then Mary's hand started shaking, "Is it because I'm not acting like a lady? Do you want to get rid of me?"
"What did I say about ridiculous notions?" Archibald said sternly. He would not allow his niece to think he didn't care. It was simply untrue. He only ever cared about her well being.
"I'm sorry," Mary admitted, "I'm just not used to anyone putting me first. It's still new."
This broke Archibald's heart. "Well you better start getting used to it." He said, "That's why I want you educated so you will marry well and do all those things your parents deprived you of."
Mary whispered something but Archibald didn't catch it. "I'm sorry?" He asked when he realized he wasn't going to hear her unless she spoke up.
"What if I don't want to join high society?" Mary asked cautiously.
Archibald scoffed, "That's ridiculous. Of course you want to join high society. Everyone wants to join high society."
"I don't."
Archibald paused so he could fully take in her words, "Is this about the Sowerbys"
Mary's heart skipped again but this time in a very uncomfortable way. Mary, shocked, looked over at her uncle feeling anger pulse through her, feeling fear that he might do something to Dickon, and the immediate shame that came with it. You're not allowed to be mad at your uncle. Colin, perhaps but not Uncle. Mary narrowed her eyes at her uncle and said slowly, "My mother… choose money… over me. That's why I don't want any part in it, it's nothing Martha or Dickon had done. And I'd appreciate it if we left them out of it."
Archibald, surprised by her tone, said, "That's what you say, but how could you know? You are naive to life and you may be manipulated without realizing. Fine. If what you say is true, I'll leave them out of it, but if you continue to act up, I'll make them leave Misselthwaite. I'm sure their inappropriate relationship with you is putting these ideas in your head; romanticizing being poor. Have I made myself clear?"
Mary didn't know what to say. She felt her pulse speed up, her stomach ache and her face burn. Her uncle wouldn't take away her friends from her. He wasn't that kind of man, wasn't he? Then again her mother was supposed to be loving but she wasn't. People aren't always what they seem and right now her uncle was an enemy. "Crystal."
"Good," Archibald said, taking her king before Mary had the chance to notice. She stared at her king piece as her uncle took it away, and she had a strange sense of true loss. "Now be off with you. I have much to finish because of your latest adventure. And Mary?" Mary turned to look at her Uncle, "Eat something for God's sake."
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Meaning Behind the Death Tarot Card: Unlikely that this card actually represents a physical death. Typically it implies an end, possibly of a relationship or perspective, and therefore implies an increased sense of self-awareness.
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CHAPTER TWO
"Sympathy For the Devil"
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Part Two
"The Anguish of Dickon Sowerby"
*THE FIRST OFFICIAL
FLASHBACK OF THE CHAPTER *
A few months had passed since Mary's 11th birthday and everything was as if nothing happened. Dickon and Mary began acting normal again, thank god! No more deep glances or soft gazing, but just the three friends having fun.
"Catch me, Colin!" Mary yelled as she climbed the tree where the swing hung.
"Becareful, Mary!" Dickon called, but she was not paying attention, too pleased to be up so high. It felt like she could climb the world.
"Oh nevermind, you!" Mary teased Dickon, climbing higher up the tree. She found an acorn and threw it at Colin. He was unprepared and was irritated as soon as it struck him, "Do you think you could climb all the way up here?"
"I probably could," Colin blushed seeing how high it was. He hated to admit it scared him, and he silently wished he had Mary's bravery. She was always brave. Much braver than he or Dickon, that's for sure. "But I don't want to disturb the tree's peace." He cursed silently that his words made no sense.
"It's a tree Colin," Mary rolled her eyes, "They're meant for climbing. Well if you won't climb with me…" She turned her eyes immediately toward Dickon, "Dickon! Climb with me!"
Colin saw Dickon's eyes glimmer with so much happiness. Dickon and Mary sitting in a tree. Colin immediately wished he could take back the last few minutes, knowing fully well that it could have been Colin sitting in a tree with Mary. Colin felt something coming up. He felt as if he were going to be sick. The more he watched Dickon climbing the tree with ease, having no doubt he could, the more Colin wanted to climb the tree only so he would pull Dickon back down. He didn't do it. Instead Colin remained where he was, secretly pouting.
"Sit next to me, Miss Mary," Dickon instructed when he scooted toward the branch which held the swing. Mary delightedly climbed into the space he reserved for her.
They're doing it again, Colin angrily thought in his mind. They ignored Colin, once again, and started whispering to each other, laughing and giggling. He saw the look in Dickon's eyes when Mary pushed some hair behind her ear and that's when Colin snapped; but instead of the screaming and punching he'd usually commit, he involuntarily started chuckling, which grew to laughter, which grew to hysteria. "What seems to be the matter, Colin?" Mary asked, worried for her cousin.
"You!" Colin said pointing. "And Dickon!" Mary and Dickon just glanced at each other confused. Now more worried for their friend than ever before. "Look at the way he looks at you! It's hilarious!" Dickon immediately started blushing, turning his head away, and refusing to look at Mary. She always hated it when Dickon would do that, and it was all because of Colin's jealousy.
"What about us is so funny?" Mary asked, feeling rage building up within her. Colin flinched at the way she said 'us'.
"It's just like the rhyme-!"
"Colin Craven, you know I hate that!"
"-Dickon and Mary! Sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"
Mary blushed hard, whether if it was embarrassment or anger, Colin didn't know. Dickon shamefully kept his head down, hiding his face under his cap, "I still don't see why it's so funny!"
"Are you kidding me!? Mary Lennox, the mystery of India, the misstress of Misselthwaite, married to a garden hand." Then Colin started laughing all over again.
Mary let her back fall backwards; and with a strong grip on the branches, she backflipped downward until she landed on her feet. "God Colin!" Mary yelled, "You ruin everything!" Stomping toward him, she pointed a finger at his chest, "And for the record, I think Dickon would make a fantastic husband one day!"
None of the cousins saw it, because of the way they fought, but as soon as Mary said what she did about Dickon being a great husband, Dickon was smiling at her. Feeling pride that Mary Lennox, the Mystery of India, Mistress of Misselthwaite, deemed him fantastic. But as soon as the smile came, it fell because then Colin sharply replied, "Yeah, with his wife and thirty-seven children." Dickon's eyes shot toward Colin's. Colin refused to look at him. He was ashamed again. Colin knew his words stung Dickon deep but instead of throwing a fit, like Colin would have done in the past, instead Dickon just dropped his gaze, pretending as if he hadn't heard Colin's words at all.
Mary, on the other hand, had steam furiously exploding out her ears. She could barely speak. "I can't believe y-you…! Y-You…!?" Finally it was as if the word she was trying to say finally exploded out of her mouth like puke when she screamed at him, "YOU SWINE!"
She ran out of the garden before Colin could yell back. Dickon was already making his way back down. As Dickon passed Colin, undoubtedly going to find Mary, he whispered, "Thee should apologize." And just like that Colin was alone in the garden. Again.
*End of Flashback*
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Colin momentarily broke from his concentration when he heard the garden door open. He didn't bother to turn and see who it was. He knew who it was. Dickon was almost always in the garden. If he wasn't eating with his family or sleeping, or working in the other gardens, then he was there in her garden. But Dickon wasn't the only gardener Mary had. Colin worked away on Mary's most favorite flower just as Dickon had once instructed and the only reason he showed him how was because Colin was insistent on helping keep it alive. Colin remembered sensing something from Dickon, once he asked, as if Dickon did not want him to work on it at all.
Colin only turned when he heard the sound of a bucket falling on the ground. "Oh Master Colin," Dickon said looking relieved, "I thought you were a lost new gardener." Colin was working on a rose. Not just any rose, but the first flower Dickon ever grew for Mary. That's why it was her favorite. Dickon loved all the flowers of the garden, but that one was particularly special. Colin saw the urgency in Dickon's eyes as he looked over the flower, and when Dickon would 'correct' any action Colin made, it took all Colin had to not yell at him to back away. Colin messed up a lot and that's normal, but his friends understood so many things that Colin did not and he started to wonder. Was he just a screw up?
"If you were looking for Mary you just missed her." Colin began, spitefully waving away any advice Dickon gave, "She didn't skip breakfast, she slept here all night."
This worried Dickon. It was cold the night he walked her back home. Very cold.
"And she only fell asleep after she stuffed herself with these," Colin said, referring to the apple cores, even tossing one in a waste basket Colin had brought. This did not make Dickon feel better.
"Did she look ill?" Dickon asked, hoping she hadn't caught anything.
"Nay," Colin replied almost naturally, "Lookin' a bit pale, but nowt t'worry bout, surely."
Dickon relaxed and enjoyed the almost perfect yorkshire Colin nonchalantly produced. "Well, tha's verra fine, then," he smiled peacefully. Colin nodded back and even allowed a smile, but it quickly fell alerting Dickon. Dickon tensed. He wasn't sure what he did but assumed Colin would throw a fit; ruining Dickon's brief moment of peace.
"You won't be able to marry her, you know."
"I kno',"Dickon replied steadily; but he could feel his anger charging his body with electricity, causing his hands to shake.
"If you tell Mary you love her, you'll lose your job."
Dickon just stood up. He hated getting angry at Colin. It was beginning to turn Dickon into something he wasn't. "Really Colin? We wor jus' havin' a grand time. Now wor talkin' about threats?"
"It's not a threat," Colin reassured. "I heard my father say it after Medlock warned him of you. She says it's not proper that someone of your class should even associate with one of Mary's and mine."
Colin watched Dickon take in his words. Though Colin felt a guilty version of pleasure, knowing that Mary and Dickon would never be together, it still pained him to see his best friend hurt. Dickon only stared at the rose he cared for so patiently and tenderly, with loss and hopelessness. It felt like one of those moments when the hard work didn't seem to matter. "It's a stupid rule, really," Colin started, "Any lady would be lucky to have you, Dickon." Colin had hoped it would count as an apology for what he did the previous year, though Dickon might not be aware of it. It certainly made him feel better.
Dickon turned around and just smiled at Colin, "Thanks." Dickon sat down on a nearby stump, "I always knew, but hearing it outloud…" Dickon paused, but Colin didn't need to hear it. He knew what he was trying to communicate. "Where's Mary?"
"With Martha by now, or Ben," Colin shrugged, "I can't imagine she has many secrets these days."
Dickon knew she wasn't with either, because it was Martha who had asked him to go find her, and he was just at Ben's just in case she was there. Being that Ben was just as contrary as she was.
Though it wasn't a secret, it also wasn't a place most knew about. The Shack. Mary must be there. She used to go to the garden when she wanted to be alone, but it wasn't a secret anymore.
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*THE SECOND OFFICIAL
FLASHBACK OF THE CHAPTER*
1911
Mary had just returned from school and she returned with her first warning. Apparently Mary hadn't been socializing so well with the other ladies. She argues with them often, and finally her head mistress had enough of it. As soon as Mary was home, she had a long talk with her uncle before he hugged her and sent her off to play, but instead of playing, she was venting about it with Dickon as they worked in the garden. Dickon tried to pay attention but he was too busy glancing back at the door waiting for Colin to eventually appear.
He was learning to be more cautious. Usually Colin was pleasant to be around, and even knew of old games which haven't been played in England since the end of the dark ages; but as soon as Dickon was alone with Mary, even if it were just a moment, Colin would become nasty and cruel. Dickon knew why. The whole world knew why. Except for Mary, it seemed.
"Oh, Dickon, I've seen heaven and have fallen back down to earth. My soul floating in the clouds," Dickon remembered Colin saying. He remembered feeling a strange sense of panic and an intense urge to push Colin down. These emotions frightened Dickon because he didn't want to hurt Colin, he didn't know why he was feeling that way, and he wanted it to stop. "Do you know such a feeling?"
"I suppose, b'I wouldna' hav said it like tha'," Dickon replied with an arrogance he never knew he was capable of. Going as far as debating whether or not he would take it back if given a chance. Perhaps he would not. He could tell Colin was in a daze and would have not noticed anyway. "When d'thee 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 in love.
"Colin," Dickon began cautiously. "Thar't my friend. Thee do know tha', dinna thee?"
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."
Arrogance transformed into shame as Dickon considered Colin's declaration very carefully before he continued, "Well, thee art both verra dere ta me. Ye n Mary, n I dinna wan' ta see any o' thee hurt. I think we shouldna' court art friends. Mother says it can leads ta bad things." Dickon paused while Colin looked at his 'friend' very seriously. "Just bein' honest, Colin"
Friend. Such a funny word. Colin hadn't been acting like a friend toward Dickon, he'd noticed, but sometimes he would. One minute he was the very best friend Dickon ever had and the next Colin became the most annoying arch nemesis to have ever existed. Perhaps that's why it was so easy to forgive Colin because he knew that the Kind-Colin, he rarely exposed, would always find it's way back to Dickon. He was Colin's best friend. Colin's only friend. Besides…
Dickon watched the way Mary cared for all her flowers and took in the way sunlight would make Mary's features glow.
… Colin was still Mary's family, as well as Dickon's best friend. Just as much as he wanted to be honest with Colin and be a good friend, he also never wanted to offend him in any way. After all, to offend Colin, would be to offend Mary.
"Let's visit my flower!" They were all her flowers, but Dickon knew exactly which one she was talking about. They made their way to that first flower he grew for Mary, and looked over it carefully. Dickon had always given it special attention. It was their own signature in the garden. The rumor that would become legend. The gardener and the lady falling in love in a secret garden, and their proof of existence stood on the poor petals of that first flower.
Dickon saw the soil looked a bit dry and looked to see if there was more compost in the garden shed. He left to go look for some as Mary looked over her flower with so much love. It was still vibrant and healthy. She didn't have to ask if it was ok. She knew it was thriving and it pleased her that it has yet to wilt or even get sick. Dickon always made sure of that. Sweet Dickon.
Dickon began layering compost, circling the flower until he massaged the compost back into the earth. Dickon made sure to water it, so it would eat. Mary watched Dickon work, utterly mesmerized. "You really do belong here? On the moore and looking after so many beautiful things."
Dickon laughed, "I dinna think I can imagine existing anywhere else."
She giggled again, but this time the sun glowed red and orange on her face, with highlights making her expression glow. She giggled into her hand, as if embarrassed to let Dickon witness her lose control. This is how they wanted her to act in high society. Pleasant, polite, and always beautiful. He took pride that she would never act this way around most people, but she acts this way with him. She claims that it's too uncomfortable and yet she deemed Dickon worthy of it.
During Dickon's mental ramblings, he hadn't realized he was staring at Mary. He didn't realize, until he broke his train of thought, that Mary had been staring back with the same intensity. Dickon saw it again. A look in her eye that begged him to act. His body warmed, his hands twitched. He knew he needed to do something, wanted to do something, but he was paralyzed. Finally Mary dropped her gaze. She was going to say something but then Colin ran in.
"There you are!" Colin bellowed, marching toward Mary like a sea captain in the face of mutiny. "With him again, I see."
"Colin stop it! Stop acting this way! We love you, so just stop it!"
"You love me? He loves me?" Colin sneared. "Well if you love me so much, then why am I always alone? Why is Dickon always hogging your attention!?"
"Now wait a-" Dickon started. He didn't like what Colin was implying.
"Stay out of this!" Colin yelled at Dickon, "And go do some work!"
Mary pushed Colin and when he fell on the ground he looked very surprised. His wide eyes locked with Mary's, betrayal welling up in his eyes, and streamed down his cheeks. "You. Will not. Speak to Dickon so disrespectfully. He is your friend and possibly will be your only friend if you keep acting like this." Mary took Dickon's hand and led him out of the garden, "let's eat some cucumber ice cream, Dickon. Cook is sure to be finished by now."
Dickon, bless his heart, looked back and said, "What about Colin?"
Mary just sneered, "What about Colin?"
But Dickon still looked back, and it annoyed Mary, because she knew he had already forgiven Colin. Sweet. Kind hearted Dickon.
*End of Flashback*
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Mary went to the Shack again. There was something about it which called her to it. There was so much to do. The shack needed dusting, sweeping, the walls needed fixing, and so did the ceiling. Mary suddenly realized this may be too much than she can handle alone. She'll need some help. Perhaps Ben could teach her. Then she blushed realizing how ridiculous she sounded. Why would he help her? He probably would tell her uncle and her uncle would be disappointed again.
Would he get rid of her? Would he force her to leave Misselthwaite? If she was forced to leave she'd never see Dickon, Ben, or Martha again. She cried as she sweeped the floor, tears turned to rage, as she envisioned all of her problems on the floor. She sweeped hard and fast, scraping the dirt off and pushing it out of the way. No more. Why couldn't she be what she was supposed to be? Why? Why!? WHY!? She looked over and saw how clean the floor was now, and felt pride over it. She did this. By herself. With no help from anyone at all, and as soon as she acknowledged this, all her anger about her parents, her anxieties with her uncle, didn't seem as important anymore. She cleaned this floor and if she could do that, perhaps she could do anything. Even clean up her past. Even fix the shack on her own.
"Miss Mary?" Dickon said wearily, "Is thy alright?"
Dickon's voice was sudden, but she'd recognize it anywhere. Mary turned and smiled, "Just a stubborn spot." At first it was a forced smile, but the happiness she felt seeing him was true, and she focused all her attention on that feeling. "Don't misunderstand," she said, shyly looking away, praying to any god who would listen that Dickon didn't witness her moment of insanity. "I'm happy to see you, but why are you here?" Dickon watched her sweep. A gleam of sweat shined over her skin as soon as the sunlight caught it, her clothes were blackened by the ash and dirt on the ground. She obviously worked hard, which felt queer to admit, but she looked at peace.
"I heard thee made thy's escape b'for breakfast n' I wor worried thee were distressed." He said, handing her an apple, but Mary gently shooed it away.
"You're so sweet, but no. I don't know why, but I can't abandon this shack the way it had been already. I want to fix it. Just like the garden, I claim this."
"Dinna look like it's been used for quite some time." Dickon looked over Mary's expression. Determination echoed from her eyes. Her tone was confident but easy. She was not asking if it was a good idea. She was telling him what she was about to do and how far she was willing to accomplish it. "I could ask Ben if he could help wit t'walls n' ceiling. It would be dangerous f'us ta do it ourselves."
"I don't want to burden him. He does so much already. I can do this. Humans used to work with tools they made in the wild. If they could do that, surely I can put up a wall using modern tools and a clear set of instructions." Dickon looked at the wall and turned his head when he involuntarily imagined Mary getting crushed underneath the ancient structure.
"Miss Mary. I kno' it's unusual, but thee have friends amongst ta staff. I canna promise Ben will help us, but I kno' he winna be offended if we ask."
He saw Mary hesitate with fleeting hope, but she settled back into reality when she replied, "Friends don't ask friends to do free work. And I cannot pay him properly, while I'm unmarried."
She wanted Dickon more than anything. More than jewels. More than a big fancy manor with servants, and large parties. She wanted Dickon. Even if she would always be covered in dirt, because Dickon made dirt look beautiful. He was the most beautiful creature she had ever beheld and yet she couldn't have him. She knew from the moment she realized she loved him, that the world could never accept them, and she could never subject Dickon to a life of cruel side comments about him being an upstart, or a horrible man for disgracing such an 'elegant' lady.
She was warned of such a man, taught how to avoid them in school, and by their own description Dickon was the farthest thing from such a man. Wasn't she only doing what she was told? Why should she care if he wasn't rich? He was common. Not poor. He wasn't sleeping on the floor, or doing awful daily tasks. He loved his life, and everyone understood why he loved his life. Why was it so wrong for Mary to want to love her's?
"I reckon that's true, but tis a lot o' work. Work I dunt kno'. I jus' dinna want thee ta get hurt."
Mary smiled at him, "You're worried about me." She sounded touched, as if for the first time anyone worried about her at all, but Dickon knew that wasn't true. He worried about her and so did Martha, Ben, Colin, her uncle... The lists go on. Why would she…?
Dickon was sure Mary knew that, but he assumed she wasn't used to it. Mary saw he was going to say something but he was taking too long. "We all worry about you Mary-" "I will learn to be a lady-" They both accidentally said in unison; quickly stopping; neither one wanting to speak over the other.
"Nay," Dickon whispered, inching closer, "We jus' want thee ta be happy. T'manor dinna glow, t' moors dunt sing, n' ta sun isn't as bright, when thee is feeling so glum. So I'll, n' ta rest of Misselthwaite, will do whatever it takes to make thee happy again."
Mary dropped her broom and ran to him. She grabbed his collar and pulled him toward her so she could kiss his cheeks. Dickon laughed excitedly, feeling Mary's light kisses cover his face, blushing like a fool and enduring them all. "When was Martha's party?"
"It's tomorrow night." Dickon said, delighted she would attend.
He could see her contemplating something for a moment before she ran off, saying, "I have something for yo- For Martha! Martha's birthday." She ran to the corner of the room. A lossen board slightly stuck up as Mary yanked it out of the floor with little to no effort. He noticed her struggle for a moment before revealing a pearl jewelry box. He was speechless. The jewelry box was engraved from head to toe of carefully carved characters of, what Dickon assumed, familiar myths across India. And a giant M was engraved on the top, behind the M was a magnificent blooming rose.
"Thee dinna expect Martha could accept tis?" He asked warily, hoping it was a joke, but just like he expected she slowly nodded her head, falling silent, and waiting for the lecture. Though she didn't look afraid or confused, like when her uncle lectured her, she watched him and waited, like a student would when they were about to be corrected, "It's too fancy. Thy'll make her feel uncomfortable."
Mary shyly looked down, "I have nothing else to give."
"Even so," Dickon admitted. Completely forgetting that ofcourse Mary would have no money, but would try to give her a gift anyway, "It's too fancy. I'm sorry.".
She felt inferior. She was rich but had nothing to offer because of her lack of skills; because her previous schools demanded it; because she had no money of her own. Even Dickon had whittled his sister a charm for a necklace he planned to give her on her birthday. Even Dickon! With barely any money at all to spend frivolously. Even he could present his own sister with a gift, but Mary could only give what she owned.
"I hate that thing." she said, unaware she was speaking out loud.
Dickon only listened. Knowing if he broke the silence, even for a moment, she would come back to reality and pretend everything was going to be okay. "My mother gave it to me. It was the only party I was able to attend. She wanted me to play with a family friend's son. Mother warned me in advance that if I did not act politely toward the boy, I would not eat for a week. Sometimes my mother forgot to feed me, so I feared she would go through with it. He was a barbaric boy, but he didn't start off that way. He was kind, until his friends arrived and then they would often play games. I was never allowed, until the night before all his friends would return home. 'Let's go hunting, Mary,' he said. I had never heard of an invitation to a hunt with a lady before and felt honored. But then we went outside when it was dark, so the game would be more fun. I asked if we were going to hunt, where are the horses? The ammo. Then he looked at me and said… he said… 'run'. And I ran. As I did, I felt like the fox." Mary said nothing else as Dickon looked at her in shock. "There's a ballerina on the inside of it. It twirls to music when you open the box. She gave me the box as a reward for that night."
"Thee dinna tell thy muther wat 'appened?"
"I did." Mary began again, "But she just shrugged, and said 'Everyone has a job. The maids clean and prepare, the stable hands take care of the animals, and you my dear are to make babies for powerful men. It is the job of women whether you wear gems or beads. That's why we, my dear, marry powerful men, because we were smart enough to marry for ourselves, not for our heart."
Dickon had never heard such a thing before and found himself with only questions. There were no words to reassure her, because Dickon's wisdom was about simple things. He would hate such a person, but it was complicated being that she was Mary's mother, and so the sweet gardener was left speechless. "Wat d'thee do?"
"I ran into my room and threw a fit so she would never invite me to another party again, but I did not cry because I did not yet know how. Until you."
"It's beautiful, though," Dickon tried to reason, wishing she could just leave her past behind. Trying to ground her back to reality.
"Yes beautiful, but the ballerina can never leave it's box and how happy she should be to be left alone in the dark, always with all her riches and material possessions keeping her company inside. What's more to ask for?" She hoped he would understand. Hoped he would save her from the corruption, but he wouldn't understand. He grew up in a small village, content in their old, hardworking ways, and impossibly finding peace within it and she couldn't ask him to save her from anything. If she did, she felt she would never be worthy of him.
"Thee could be common n' watchin' ta luxuries other's can afford; teachin' thyself how ta not want things thee canna afford."
"Would that be so bad?" Mary asks looking at him, "To share power or at least have limitations of it?"
He looks back at her and says, "Nay. There's nothin' wrong wit that at all, Mary, n' even verra christian o' you."
"Then why would it be wrong?" Mary rarely went to church, her parents often going on their own, and grew up on hindu belief, because of her Ayah. But that didn't mean she didn't know of God or the bible. She just didn't know too much about it and if god dictated what was proper, then isn't sharing wealth supposed to be a big part of that?
Dickon was taught it was wrong, because it was shady. Back alley deals were always closely observed and rarely pursued. Only those truly lucky, made it out unharmed; their promises honored, and though Dickon had never, or has ever, defined Mary as shady, she was an offer that felt too good to be true. He wanted to pursue her, couldn't stop himself from doing so, but he was also extremely cautious because he was taking such a huge risk. "It's not. It jus' dinna happ'n everyday."
Mary stayed silent, "I could find something else," Mary started, "I suppose."
Dickon's heart broke. He knew she meant more than well, but if she was going to be permanently in his life, she should know there are rules amongst commoners too, and too grand of a gift was demeaning.
She was going to cry but stopped herself in her tracks. She would not feel so glum if she didn't need to. Dickon was only being honest, not attacking her, and she should feel fine, because everything was fine. Her hands twitched uncomfortably and finally she said something Dickon did not hear and reached out to rip the ballerina from it's stand. Mary handed it to Dickon, "What about this?"
Dickon was more than shocked, to destroy something so beautiful felt like such a waste, but Mary's action was one of the most selfless things Dickon had ever experienced.
"Tha's still fancy but good enough."
Mary smiled, "Good."
On their way back to the manor, Dickon was relieved that Mary seemed to return to their old days, as if the conversation they had back at the shack, hadn't happened at all. She laughed, chuckled, and giggled, as they talked about all things which amused them. The garden, Colin, and of course the moor. "I wanted it ta be a surprise." He watched Mary beam with excitement. Dickon had building Mary up with excitement as he continued to talk about a very beautiful place, secluded from civilization, and touching the ocean, "It's a long ride, but there's a small beach on ta other end o' ta moor. I could take thee sometime."
"I would love that!" Mary exclaimed.
When they reached the manor, Dickon saw Archibald shaking hands with a woman. He usually saw that when it was almost time for Mary to go to another school, and it twisted his stomach. He had just gotten the old Mary back and they were going to steal her away again.
"Who's that?" Dickon asked; hoping Mary would know and he was wrong, but Mary gave the woman a long look.
It worried Dickon that Mary concentrated so hard before answering, "I don't know."
.
Mary's life was full of problems. Sure. She was as rich as a princess, living in an ivory tower, but she had no money which she could spend freely and; because her uncle had made more of an effort to become a permanent presence in her life; would often ask what she needed the money for. Unable to find a job and make her own money, so in an ironic turn of events, still had nothing.
She continued to scan the contents of her closet. Left to right, she could only find lace, jewels, and high quality fabric. Hardly the kind of outfit to wear at a humble birthday party. Not that she liked any of her dresses anyway. She needed something new, but she could never tell her uncle her true intentions, claiming she would simply be late in the garden. He never bothers her in the garden anyway. She thinks it bothers him to be in the garden when Mary's around, but she understands why. She looks like her aunt.
She recalls a warm summer morning. Mary swung on the swing, while Dickon pushed her from behind. Meanwhile Colin would wait until she was so high she could touch the clouds, and then run quickly underneath her to retrieve his ball only so he could throw it at her. Mary would scream first when he would duck underneath her, too afraid she might kick him, and then she'd scream again when Colin threw the ball he had just retrieved at Mary. Mary shouted at Colin to stop because she didn't want to hurt him, but he didn't stop, because Mary would always end up almost falling to the ground in laughter.
Archibald heard the screaming and ran in with the urgency of a father, but seeing his beloved niece on the swing; the same swing his beloved late wife once too enjoyed and died on; he held out a hand to Mary, begging her to remove herself from the danger. She did and Mary was safe again, but the laughing stopped.
He was always so protective -and possessive, sometimes- and she enjoyed the attention, she did, but sometimes she wished he'd relax a little bit.
"This is stupid," Mary said to no one as she continued to stare down her useless closet, "Why not make my own?"
Her heart leaped at her brilliant idea. Sure she rolled her eyes at why she knew how to sew in the first place. School. She had to admit. She may have found her subjects to be useless, but perhaps they weren't as useless as she thought. No one would think that when she learned to sew she would use her new skills for a servant's birthday party, but they weren't around to scold her so Mary did what she wanted. She looked at her unwanted, unworn gowns in a new light. She picked up scissors as an evil thought entered her mind. Something Medlock would find truely disgusting and Mary smiled at it.
.
Mary waited patiently infront of the manor's door. She stood very still when she heard her uncle passing her, discussing something with the mysterious woman she didn't know. Thankfully he didn't notice her but in her anxious state, notice a slight turn from the stranger. When finally the coast was clear, she focused her attention back at the door. She heard a brief rapping on the door, when she saw Dickon in clean clothes and combed hair. Mary immediately blushed upon seeing him. She hated to admit it, because she would never want Dickon exposed to the cruelties of high society, but seeing him trying to give the servant some kind of excuse as to why he was picking Mary up so late, she realized he would look amazing in fine clothes. Perhaps she could convince him just to try them on for fun. The servant greeted him and before Dickon had the chance to tell his business, Mary ran out of the door. Dickon had to double take a couple of times when he moved out of the way thinking she was a servant, but after taking his hand in her's, he smiled widely as he rushed her toward his horse.
Mary felt a freedom riding on the horse, like there was no uncle, no ladyship, no society; just Dickon and Mary, and she loved it. Why would her world be anything else, except Dickon, Mary, and Jump.
When she arrived she heard music and laughing and chatting. Dickon opened the door and Mary saw a small humble home which was full of life as people laughed and talked over the music playing. She greeted Martha and handed her, her present.
"Dinna open it, till the rest art' ready gone," Mary whispered to Martha. Dickon was impressed she knew to be tactful about giving such a valuable gift. He was happy for his sister to have such a grand gift but at the same time he didn't want the rest of his siblings to feel left out or even worse, expect the same treatment.
"Miss Mary! Thee shouldna speak so improperly. Wat will thy uncle say?"
"What my uncle doesn't know won't hurt him."
"Well thank thee. Thee dinna hav ta give me anything."
"Yes, but I love you so much so I wanted to. It is alright, isn't it?"
Martha winked at her brother teasingly, but he did his best to ignore it. "C'mon Miss Mary. Thee mus meet ta rest o' t'family."
Mary turned toward Dickon and he saw an excitement in her that he's come to expect. He didn't understand why Mary looked at his family with so much value but she did and not only did he start to accept it, but love it too. Martha walked her around to introduce her to her other younger siblings when finally they made it to the youngest Sowerby. He peaked up at her when Martha introduced Mary to him and the little boy smiled.
"Hi!" he said with a smile wider than Dickon's, "I'm Ollie."
"I'm Mary," Mary said.
"Art names rhyme!"
Mary laughed, already in love, "Yes it does."
He then took the small toy he was playing with, nothing more than a stick he swears was a sword and handed it to her. Telling all about the pretend wars he won with it. Then Dickon quickly added that the boys like to play such games and Ollie wins every time because he always chose the heaviest branch.
"Really?" Mary asked. She turned her attention back to Ollie, "May I play with you sometime?"
Ollie's eyes widened and they sparkled at the idea, "Thee nee's a sword!"
Dickon smiled and basked in the energy they shared. "Can I play too, Ollie?"
Suddenly something in Ollie's eyes darkened and he quickly pulled Mary away saying, "Nay."
Mary almost burst into laughter watching Dickon's shocked expression twitched in mild hurt. Mary almost fell to the floor as Ollie continued to pull Mary farther away from Dickon as Dickon threw his arms in the air and demanded, "Why no'!?"
Mary wasn't used to hearing Dickon so quick to respond, it almost reminded her of Colin if Dickon's disappointed expression didn't immediately fall into a smile. He found it funny and magical how easy it was for Mary to win his family's hearts. Despite Ollie's wishes, Dickon still followed them outside so that he could watch them play. Ollie quickly instructed that she would want a liable weapon and so naturally picked up a heavy branch for her to take. At first Dickon was going to protest, but then Mary shot him a glance that said everything was going to be okay and Dickon relaxed again. They played for an hour before Mrs. Sowerby called Ollie away. She was sure Dickon wanted to spend some time with Mary and he shared her with his family very patiently. His mother winked at him and Dickon wished he didn't see it. He liked to believe that what he had with Mary was a secret, but who was he kidding? Everyone knew. The love both Dickon and Mary shared could never be masked, even if he or Mary tried.
"Thee's lookin' verra pretty in thy's dress."
Mary blushed, "Thank you. It nearly took the entire night but if I had known I could do this, I would have made your sister one, too." Dickon had to admit it was a very decent alternative to the jewelry box Martha couldn't hope to fill. "Oh, what a wonderful idea for a Christmas present for Martha! A beautiful new dress! I think I can remember what colours are her favorite! Or I could use the material from dresses I catch her always staring at. Oh! I could have fashioned a brooch from the ballerina! I feel very foolish."
Mary could have continued and would have but she stopped when she caught Dickon trying to stifle a chuckle, which failed miserably. "What is it, Dickon? I'm being very serious, you know? Not only was she one of the most wonderfully, hard working servants I've ever had, but she's an even more wonderful friend. She deserves something great!"
Dickon almost fell over with laughter. He couldn't believe how perfect they were. Sure she was rich but his family loved her, his co-workers understood her, and more importantly she loved them too. "I'm sorry," Dickon chuckled, trying his hardest to control himself, but he couldn't, "I jus' luv thee."
His heart suddenly stopped. He had not hidden this feeling from her in any way, but he had never said the words so bluntly before and even after all they've been through, in that moment he feared she did not feel the same. Though the anxiety didn't last, because Mary smiled at him casually and replied as if they've already said it a million times, "I love you too, Dickon."
Dickon would have questioned whether what she said was real or not, but as soon as she spoke the most wonderful words Dickon had ever heard, she took his hand in her's and she didn't let go. She leaned into his side, and even laid her head on his shoulder; and she never hesitated. Ever.
Mary stayed for a long time, longer than she or Dickon ever intended, and the wind was beginning to blow harder; Dickon wanted to take Mary home before it was too cold. He didn't want her to get sick. He could tell Mary didn't want to leave but agreed because should she get sick, she wouldn't want anyone to blame themselves. After Dickon mounted Jump by himself, he lifted Mary with ease, pulled her close to him and she giggled in response which pleased Dickon as always. As they made their way back to the manor, Mary asked, "Could we at least go to the garden first. I don't want to go home yet."
Dickon didn't want her to leave either, but he didn't want her to get sick. He supposes there is a place in the garden they could go.
In the garden, he guided her through the grass tunnels until they reached it. A pocket in the big tree which held the infamous swing. No one would have guessed the tree had been hollowed out, creating a tiny room, just big enough to fit Dickon and Mary.
Mary settled herself inside first and as Dickon did his best to do the same, Mary lit a dusty lantern they had stored there. "It's warm in here."
"Aye it is," he replied, surprised by it.
"Is it because the tree is alive."
"I'm no' sure but ta tree is alive n' lots o' livin' things art warm."
"All warm things?"
"I believe so."
"Sometimes I wonder if I'm alive or if this is all merely a dream. A sort of fiction I've made up for myself and I'm really back in india."
"What would have you been doing all this time if I wasn't real?"
"Probably losing my mind. Which is fine. If all of that were true. I would never want…"
Dickon kissed her and Mary felt her heart beat so quickly she was afraid it might even kill her, but she'd face death before and wasn't afraid of staring it down in the face. She wasn't sure why the word 'death' felt appropriate. What was she feeling?
Dickon pulled away slowly. Looking away as if waiting for some kind of reprimanding, "S-S-See? Thy's no' goin mad."
"Don't misunderstand me," Mary began, surprised by his boldness, "I-I… I loved it, but what was it for?"
"Thee told me thy luvs me," Dickon answered, unable to look her in the eye, "I wanted ta kiss thee then, but not…"
"In front of your family," Mary agreed. She put her hand gently on top of Dickon's and he finally found the courage to look at her. They stared at each other for a while. Both of them waited for the other to act, to take the lead, but none of them wanted to lead the other. In fact, as they walked back to the manor they stood side by side until they made it all the way to the servants entrance.
At first Dickon was going to walk her through the servant's entrance, but then Mary stopped him. She said she could climb up the pipe, so she could avoid getting Dickon into trouble.
"Mary tha's dangerous! Wat if thee fell and hurt thyself?"
"I mean I did fall and it did hurt," Mary said proudly, reliving the moment in her mind. It was all so thrilling and perhaps the true reason she wanted to climb the storm pipe was to relive it again. "But Jump caught me. You don't suppose he knew I was in trouble?" But Dickon did not speak. He felt his chest become tight as he imagined her falling to her death, should Jump not have been there. He remembers when he tried to put a door on Jump's stable, just as he was instructed to do by his father, and how hurt Jump got trying to leave. It wasn't that he didn't love Dickon, but Jump was wild which means he belongs in the world. And nothing which belongs to the world should ever be caged. "Dickon?" Mary, on the other hand, is human and could be reasoned with.
"Please dunt do tha' again," he said quickly. "Please?"
Mary fell silent. Her head dropped, avoiding his eyes. Selfishly she did not want to make that promise, but it seemed so important to Dickon, all she could do was look away. "But it's so wonderfully thrilling. And I know how to do it now."
"Nay Mary. No amount o' thrill could ever b'worth thy's safety," Dickon explained, "Please? Promise me thee willna do it again."
Her fun was now ruined and she would normally get angry should anyway ruin her fun, but it was Dickon and though she didn't want to, understood what he was trying to say. She wouldn't want him in any danger; why wouldn't he speak out learning that Mary put herself in danger. "I promise I won't. Unless in an emergency."
Dickon could not believe that it worked and he felt very grateful to Mary. More grateful than she ever could know and he saw the stallion in her spirit begin to settle.
Mary shuffled a foot, before smiling at him again, "Can I have another kiss then?"
He blushed but wasted no time and as soon as their lips made contact, Archibald opened the door.
...
Okay I might have to edit this one, but you guys are the reader so please tell me... review please!