Title: Those Qualities Upon Which Friendship Lives
Author: Mena
Contact Info:
Twitter: LJMomo Yahoo: aquietconscience AIM: aquietconscience (Feel free to IM me when I'm on and introduce yourself!)
Summary: Mary returns to Misselthwaite Manor from boarding school in London more of a lady than ever and Dickon sees her in a new light -- the problem is, so does Colin.
Ship: Mary/Dickon
Disclaimer: The characters in this story were created by Frances Hodgson Burnett and published in 1911 as "The Secret Garden". I do not own the characters. The Secret Garden is now in the public domain and money *can* be made off of it as Susan Moody did with her sequel, "Return to the Secret Garden". This disclaimer applies to all chapters of this story as it appears here at FFN.
Those Qualities Upon Which Friendship Lives
by Mena in the Garden
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
I've been working on this story for years now. It currently has 12 completed chapters and it's always in the back of my mind to follow it through and complete the whole thing, though I don't know how many chapters it will be when it's finished.
I'm the same "Mena in the Garden" who runs the Secret Garden Fan Fiction Society on Yahoo Groups and I have a Secret Garden site here: secretgardenfics dot momodee dot com
Thanks for reading and if you'd like to leave a review positive or with corrections and ideas etc. please do. Enjoy.
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Chapter Eight
The clap of the horses' hooves against the road beat in rhythm as the carriage moved on toward the spa town of Harrogate. Travelers flocked to the location for its over eighty mineral springs that were said to have healing qualities, and it was a popular area for the well to do in society to spend their holiday.
Mary sat next to Colin, who chattered on as his father nodded now and then in the seat across from them. Watching the landscape roll by, Mary's thoughts centered on Dickon, and questioning how long this little sojourn would take.
"Mary, did you know there are caves we can see here?"
"Caves?"
"Now, Colin, your cousin is a fine lady now and won't like to go mucking about in dripping wet caves," his father cautioned.
"Oh, Father," Colin said. "I think she might like it. After all, she's quite an adventurous sort – aren't you, Mary?"
Mary turned to him and shrugged slightly. "At times, I suppose." She picked at her white gloves and smoothed her skirts, causing Colin to give her a nudge.
"You're not Miss Prim and Proper on us now, are you, Mary?"
"I don't know what you mean, Colin."
"Leave her, Colin," Lord Craven commanded.
Colin changed his tack and began asking about their destination. If it wasn't to be caves, he wanted to do something equally enthralling and exciting.
"We will visit one of the tea-shops—"
"A tea-shop?" Colin complained.
"—and we will walk in The Stray and enjoy the gardens."
"That sounds lovely, Uncle," said Mary, flashing him a broad smile. She hadn't meant to irritate Colin, but to express her pleasure at the itinerary. Nevertheless, Colin slumped in his seat and angrily took to the window, biting his lip tightly.
"I apologize for my son's impertinent attitude, Mary," said Archie.
"That's quite all right, Uncle. I'm sure I can help tame him once again. It might not be as difficult the second time around, but I do think he's worth the effort." Mary gave a small laugh and Archie smiled while Colin continued to scowl.
"I'm impertinent?" he asked angrily. "You're sitting here discussing me as if weren't even present! That's what I call impertinence!"
"Calm yourself, cousin, I was only joking," Mary explained, taking his arm and patting it gently to try and soothe his wounded ego. Colin perked up at the gesture and settled back, his face losing its sour expression. How many times had Mary seen him paint that ugly picture on his face only to have it washed away by her kindness? She remembered Colin's outbursts and how he thought he would never walk, never be loved. While pondering his attitude, a thought came to her that caused her a great deal of worry. What if Colin had been better when she was away in London? Had her presence caused him to revert to his old ways of childishness and jealousy? For a moment, Mary regretted coming back home. Then she recalled her experience with Dickon, and all regret vanished. Colin would have to accept that she had chosen Dickon. It didn't mean that she loved Colin less, but he was sure to take it that way when her engagement was announced.
Mary turned her attention to her uncle, who sat straight and proud across from her. She studied the lines on his face, the deep creases created by years of sadness and strife. His eyes held weariness though he was wide awake. She imagined how he might look when informed of Dickon Sowerby's intentions.
"You look so far away, child," he said then, causing Mary to start.
"No," she said, a bit flustered. "I'm fine."
The carriage ground to a halt along Parliament Street and the travelers disengaged themselves from the hulking vehicle. Mary looked around, taking in the lush greenery and majestic hotels that surrounded her. This town was picturesque, unlike the more sooty and crowded London streets.
"Uncle, how is it that I have never been here before? It's beautiful!" she exclaimed.
"I regret that I had not the opportunity to show you and Colin more of the beauty of Yorkshire, lass. I hoped today's journey might make up for it in some small way. Shall we look in on the tea-shop?"
"Yes, please!" Mary said, eager to see all the town had to offer. Perhaps she could buy a small token for Martha in one of the shops; Martha had been so helpful to her of late, serving as confidant and friend.
"Oh, must we?" Colin all but whined.
"Come, Colin, you'll enjoy it!" Mary again took her cousin's arm and urged him along down the street. He seemed to give in more easily when she made some kind of physical contact. Deep inside, Mary felt a bit wicked for manipulating him like this, but it was the only way to keep the peace and be able to enjoy the day. She didn't want Colin to have a fit like he used to. It was best to keep him as calm as possible and placate him.
"All right, all right," he acquiesced.
They walked along, enjoying the fresh air and open space. Lord Craven ushered them into a tea-shop where they were served tea and teacakes. Conversation had languished and Mary fought to find something interesting to remark upon.
"So quiet, you two," said Archie, surveying his charges.
Mary only smiled politely. Colin, however, impatiently drummed his fingertips on the table.
"I thought we could see the caves," he said hopefully.
"Not this time, my dear boy," said his father. "I shall bring you back here on a spelunking expedition soon, if you wish. Perhaps for your birthday."
"You'll enjoy that," said Mary, encouragingly.
"But you won't be here to share it, will you, Mary?" Colin became serious and wistful. "I shouldn't like to see the caves without you."
"I don't know, Colin. It depends on many things." She thought at first of school, but then remembered that she might be married by Colin's birthday, if it were at all possible. Would Colin even want to see her then? "We can talk about it later, at home. Right now I'd like to visit one of the little shops and see if I can't find a little gift for Martha. She's been so good to me since my return. Do you think that would be all right?" She looked from her uncle to her cousin, waiting for their decision.
"Yes, of course," her uncle said, smiling.
Colin merely shrugged.
They left the tea shop and walked down Parliament, turning onto Oxford St, stopping in front of the Grand Opera House. The theatre had been built almost twenty years before and boasted a beautiful red marquee. It was also quite a popular attraction with the public.
Mary looked up at it admiringly. "I'd love to come to a show here one day," she remarked. "I've never seen a show before, not even while I was away at school. I wish I'd been – there are many theatres in London but I just never had the time."
"Then you shall," said Archie. "What a splendid idea."
"Would it be too much trouble, Uncle?"
"Not at all; I will inquire inside as to their schedule. I won't be but a moment." He disappeared within the building and left Mary with Colin outside.
"My father is so agreeable when you're around, Mary. I wish you'd stay with us longer."
"I'd like to stay longer as well, Colin. I love seeing you all again. You are my family, after all."
"Yes, but – Father is always so busy, yet when you're here he makes time for you. He'd never take me to see a show if I'd asked."
"Had you ever asked?"
"No," he said.
"Then how do you expect he knows you want to go to one?" She shook her head. "Colin, you're terribly vexing sometimes."
He thrust his hands in his pockets and put on an arrogant air. "Am I?"
"Not as bad as you once were, though," she said, studying him.
"Why do you look at me like that?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.
"Like what?" Mary grew a bit flustered.
"Like I'm a bug under a glass."
"I do not look at you that way," she said gently. "I was just thinking of how you've grown."
"And do you think time has been kind to me?"
"Of course it has, silly!" she said, not wishing to address the question Colin seemed to be asking. "Not a white hair on your head," she laughed, carefully tucking a strand of his golden hair behind his ear. This gesture caused a change in Colin, and Mary regretted being so forward. She'd forgotten her manners and that they were in public, not on the moors. She shouldn't be touching men so affectionately on the streets; it was something ladies did not do. She pulled her hand back quickly.
A tension has arisen between them now, one that Mary couldn't deny. Her cousin was indeed a handsome young man, and if she had not lost her heart to Dickon, she may have even considered Colin, if such a marriage were still allowed. Marrying one's first cousin had not been common for years, but she doubted Colin would let convention stand in his way if they had wanted to marry.
He stood now with a pained expression on his face. "Mary," he half sighed.
"Please, Colin," she said pleadingly, unsure if he understood her meaning. Relationships could be such a cat-and-mouse game at times, and Mary hated playing with emotions. She longed to be able to tell him how she felt, but he would be hurt, and she was frightened of what he might do to himself or someone else in his anger. He was not a sadistic boy; he didn't set out to hurt anyone, but then neither did Mary. She could see that they were not meant for each other, but plainly he was still holding onto his childhood crush. He needed to be set straight, but Mary doubted she had the wherewithal to deliver such a blow to her dear cousin. In gaining Dickon, she did not want to lose Colin. "We can talk about this at home. There's much we need to discuss."
Colin nodded slowly and they waited in silence until Archie reappeared.
"We are in luck, my dears," he said jubilantly. "I have secured tickets for a performance taking place a fortnight hence."
"Lovely! What are we to see?" Mary said excitedly.
"Romeo and Juliet," said Archie, waving the tickets at Mary and Colin.
"Ahh, how romantic!" said Mary.
"That's a bit of a sappy love story, isn't it?" asked Colin.
"Sappy? It's desperately tragic!" said Mary, surprised that he would look down upon Shakespeare. "It's a classic."
"I knew I'd waited too long to expose Colin to theatre," said Archie. Mary heard a bit of sadness in his voice as he turned to his son and spoke. "I should have brought you here long ago. To London as well. I'm sorry I never brought you to visit with Mary."
Colin remained silent and Mary wondered if he had nothing to say or if he just couldn't think of anything that would be appropriate. The air between them grew thick with expectation, so Mary pushed it aside by taking her Uncle's hand. "That's all right, Uncle Archie. We're together now and that's what counts. We can still go to London one day, and it will be better without school looming over us like a dark cloud. I'm so glad to finally be free of it."
Archie smiled down at her. "Yes, you're right, Mary."
Mary glanced over at Colin and could tell he was relieved to move on from the previous subject. The three continued their jaunt down the street, walking lazily in the sunlight. A fresh breeze weaved amidst the pedestrians, and Mary tilted her face to the sun to relish the moment. "It is such a beautiful day," she mused. She wondered what Dickon might be doing back at Misselthwaite; in the garden tending the roses, or maybe working with Ben Weatherstaff on those topiaries for Colin?
Archie stopped to examine a shop window's contents, so Mary took the opportunity to take her cousin's hand and lead him a little ways further down the block. "Colin," she asked, "What are you going to do with those strange plants Mr. Markham has Dickon and Ben working on?"
"Those? I thought it would be nice to have some art out in the gardens. Proper English gardens have symmetry, you know."
"They're not to go in…our garden?"
"No, of course not. Don't worry about that. Do you not approve of them?"
"I thought they seemed a little out of place, but far be it from me to dictate." She let go of Colin's hand and he frowned slightly.
"One is to be a likeness of my horse," he continued.
"Is it?"
"Aye," he said.
Mary laughed at Colin's dialect change. She hadn't heard him use any broad Yorkshire for years. "You've still got a touch of Yorkshire in your blood, don't you, Colin?"
"Just a bit. It comes and goes." He looked a bit forlorn.
"Is something wrong?" Mary asked.
"I've had a lot on my mind lately," he said. "I'm unsure of so many things."
Surprised that he was speaking so candidly, Mary felt sorry for her cousin. Guilt crept in and gnawed at her conscience. Here she had just come home from being away for so long and all she could do was think of Dickon. Perhaps her cousin felt ignored? He was not one to handle not having an audience and being deprived of continual praise and affirmation. He had matured enough so that he didn't immediately throw a tantrum when things didn't go his way, but Mary could still see remnants of his younger self when he was under duress.
"Colin, when we arrive home, why don't we have tea together and we can talk? I apologize for being so wrapped up in things around me. Everyone's changed and I'm still growing used to seeing you all again. I am so happy to be home and to see you," she said sincerely.
The shadow lifted from Colin's face, though he did not register a smile. Nodding, he offered Mary his arm and the two continued down the street with Archie walking protectively behind them.
The group continued their outing and Mary successfully found a pretty tam for Martha, feeling the gift was partly deserved for keeping her confidence so well with the proposal. Mary's thoughts kept finding their way back to the garden and to Dickon who waited for her within its walls. By the time they had settled in for the ride home, Mary was anxious to see Dickon again, though she chastised herself for telling Colin she'd spend time with him and then allowing Dickon to once again dominate her thoughts. How could she achieve a balance where both men would know she loved them dearly but that what she felt for each was unique?
The carriage stopped in front of the manor and Mary started, unaware that she had been silent for the entire trip.
"She awakens!" said Archie good-naturedly. Apparently, they'd thought she's fallen asleep.
"Oh, Uncle Archie," she said, embarrassed.
Mrs. Medlock came rushing out of the house at that moment, wringing her hands. "Lord Craven, there's been an accident!" she cried.
Mary's heart skipped a beat and her throat seemed to close. "What?" she said without thinking. Was it Dickon? "Who?"
"It's Ben Weatherstaff – he's cut himself right good working on the topiary for Master Colin!"
"Ben's a master gardener, Medlock, I'm sure he knows how to use a pair of shears—" started Archie, heading for the door.
""Twas Mr. Markham, Sir. He'd been showing Mr. Weatherstaff some of his techniques and he fumbled with the shears and they stabbed Ben right in the foot! Oh, the blood!" She looked about to faint.
Mary suppressed a mischievous smirk. Of course it hadn't been Ben's fault; it was that dull Mr. Markham that Medlock thought so much of who'd caused the accident. But where was Dickon amidst all of this commotion? "Is Ben all right?" she asked.
"The doctor's tended to him and he's watching so that it doesn't get infected – oh, but a man Mr. Weatherstaff's age must be so careful!"
"Can he walk?" Archie asked, ushering everyone into the house. "Look here, Medlock, you seem a bit ill, will you sit down – I don't want your legs giving way."
Mrs. Medlock slumped into a brocade covered seat near the door. "Oh, it was terrible!"
Mary and Colin exchanged glances as the housekeeper put her hand up to her forehead and moaned pathetically. Colin rolled his eyes; Mary bit her lip and inched toward the entryway to the kitchens. Now that she knew Ben would recover, she wanted to go to the gardens and find Dickon.
Martha came up from the kitchens and glanced to Mary, who gave her a conspiratorial look. Taking Mary's hint, Martha hurried over to where Archie was trying to calm Mrs. Medlock and Colin was watching with disgust. Mary heard her ask Colin about the outing, and with that, Mary slipped beyond the door and down to the kitchens where she could easily escape the house and head for the gardens.
She did not make it far when an arm grabbed her about the waist and pulled her close to the warm body it was attached to. The familiar smell of fresh earth filled her nostrils and she looked up into Dickon's loving face. Before she could even utter a greeting, Dickon's mouth descended upon hers, stealing her very breath away. Immediate concerns of who might catch them disappeared and all that remained was a rekindling of the fire she felt inside for this man who loved her. She was enveloped in his warm embrace, as if he never wanted to let her go again.
When Dickon broke the kiss, Mary was almost dizzy with need.
"I missed you so, lass," he said huskily, something new and enticing lacing his voice.
"I missed you," she replied, holding onto the lapels of his brown woolen jacket. "Should we go to the garden?"
"I know we've got mun to speak about, to plan," he said, "but I'd like thee to come to my little cottage on the moor. I want thee to be sure tha could accept it – tis not mun, not good enough for thee," he said.
"Of course it's good enough!" she said, a little upset that he would think something like money and status would make her change her mind. "I've only been away for a few hours; nothing has swayed my decision. We've spoken of that before and I don't want us to speak of it ever again. I love you, not what you own. Believe that, Dickon Sowerby."
Seeing that she had assured him beyond doubt, Mary continued. "I should like to see your cottage. I'm sure 'tis lovely! It is a way off, though – we should take the horses. No arguments!" she insisted when Dickon opened his mouth to speak.
The couple walked swiftly to the stables where Mary asked the stable hand to saddle two horses for their ride. After a short wait, they mounted the great beasts and ducked behind the house to remain hidden from curious eyes within. Once set upon the moor, they galloped for a distance until it was certain they hadn't been followed. Mary felt quite the outlaw being so secretive, but she did have a secret and it would soon be told. She wanted to keep it as her own for a little while longer.
They slowed the horses to a canter, and rode alongside one another for the distance to the cottage. Dinner would be served in just a few hours time at Misselthwaite, and Mary had also agreed to tea with Colin. She'd have just enough time to spend a few precious, private moments with her intended, then they'd have to ride back to face society once again.
"There is it," said Dickon, pointing to the small structure. "We're almost home."
Home. Mary smiled.