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 Twelve
The strain at Misselthwaite grew throughout the following days, until Mary no longer felt any joy at the prospect of being married. Colin took to leaving the manor early in the morning and coming home late at night, sometimes drunk. She knew what usually became of men who turned to the bottle, and did not want to see Colin come to a dreadful end. Again and again she tried to speak with him, but he would wave her away or ignore her presence. Mary wondered where he went all day when he rode out on horseback towards town. Late one evening, Martha informed her of Colin's new and secret life.
Candlelight flickered on Mary's wall as she tried to concentrate on the novel she was reading. She fidgeted restlessly, moving this way and that in her bed, unable to find a comfortable position that still afforded enough light for her pages.
A soft knock sounded on the door, a special rapping that signaled Martha had come with news.
"Come in, come in," Mary said, ushering the girl inside and taking the lamp from her hands to set it on a nearby table. "Have you found him?"
"Aye, Miss Mary," said Martha. "I'm afraid you may not want to know what he's been up to in the city. My dear sister, she lives just outside of town having been married last year and all, and she says that her husband's seen Colin at a pub--"
"Well, there's nothing wrong with that. People go to pubs all the time," said Mary.
"Oh, but that's not all! He's been seen with a woman there, a woman my sister was like to call a 'tart' but I don't want to be so unkind."
"Oh my! Is he sure it was our Colin?"
"Aye, Miss. He even spoke to 'im once. I thought you'd want to know."
"Yes, Martha, thank you." Mary sat down and chewed on her fingernail. "But what shall we do now?" she asked.
"You munnot blame yourself for his behavior. He's done this on his own, to be sure."
"I've had something to do with it, though. I do feel guilty, Martha. I just don't feel the same way about him -- I love him dearly of course, but he is like a brother to me, like my own flesh and blood. I had no idea he would react in such a drastic manner to the news of my engagement. I fear we shall never be friends again."
The older girl put her hand on Mary's shoulder and patted her gently. "There, Miss. It's not as bad as all that, I'm sure."
"I'm supposed to be happy -- happy with Dickon, but I feel this tremendous guilt for destroying my friend."
"Maybe it was the war that did it," said Martha. "When Dickon and Colin came home, they were different. You can't always see it, but sometimes it comes out of them like they're holding something so big inside that it just bursts out. Dickon took to the moors more than ever and when I saw him, his eyes would be red. I'd ask if any of his animals had died and he'd tell me no, they were all fine. But Colin, he'd go ridin' and huntin' and take to kicking the dogs. He's so angry, Colin is."
Mary did not wish to know the detail of the horrors Dickon and Colin had witnessed or even took part in -- she could not bear to know that the two people she loved most might have been forced to kill or maim, especially Dickon, who couldn't hurt a fly much less attack a man. She'd never thought Colin capable of violence, but now Mary wasn't as sure. Something had happened, and the whole business with Dickon and marriage had pushed Colin to a breaking point. She'd lived in a dream while away at school, always looking forward to coming home and seeing everyone again, but existing in a protected bubble of society. Mary had not been face to face with death and poverty or violence since her parents died of cholera so many years before. All of that faded with time and the once sharp edges of remembrance melted into the dull ache of regret and longing. She pushed it aside, unwilling to give those memories any credence. If all of those things were buried, she wouldn't have to live them again. Now Colin had unearthed his own nightmare and walked in it alone. All because of her.
"Uncle told me that Colin wasn't on the front lines during the war -- I thought that meant he hadn't had to -- shoot anyone."
"I don't know, Miss. I never asked either of them in any detail as like it would surely upset them. Lord Craven did his best to keep Colin safe, that's all I know about it."
"Who is this woman Colin sees? Can you find out for me?"
"I'll try, if that is what you wish."
"Perhaps we might not think the worst of her; a girl spending late nights at a pub isn't usually in society, but there is a chance she is not lost."
"Will you still marry my brother?" asked Martha after a pause.
Mary hesitated for a split-second. "Of course."
"Maybe this girl Colin's found will be good for him in the end. He wouldn't worry so much about you and Dickon if he has his own lass to care for," Martha said.
Mary hoped what her friend said was true, but did not put much hope into the idea. "Had Colin courted anyone while I was away?"
"Not that I knew of, Miss," replied Martha. "He's met a fair share of young ladies at parties and such but I think he was waiting for you."
"I wish I'd known. Rather, I wish he'd just gone and courted one of them instead of putting such a burden on me." Mary resented the way Colin seemed to have expected her to return his affections when she'd come back to the manor. "Did he think no one would have wanted to court me in London?"
"Did you have a beau there?" Martha's voice betrayed an excited lilt.
"Not a beau, but I did have a couple of boys who liked me and whenever we had dances they would come in from their school and made sure to dance with me. My school was very strict about such things so I didn't get to know them well at all, but it was nice to have the attention."
Martha smiled dreamily. "I've never been to a dance. Not as a guest, I mean."
"We should have an engagement party, I expect. You will of course be invited as a proper guest! Your whole family should come and bring friends as well. I want the whole affair to be more like Dickon, more Sowerby than Lennox or Craven. I don't care what anyone says anymore."
"Oh Miss, that would be lovely! Mother hasn't been to a party in years and the little ones, I know they'd behave!"
Mary brightened at the thought of a good party with friends and family. And if Colin did not want to attend, he would be the one missing out. She would speak with Uncle Archie about the entire matter and keep her mind off Colin and his life. He'd have to learn to be his own man sooner or later, and if he wanted to spend time with tarts, she'd let him. He would not be allowed to steal her joy, and Mary decided that she was not responsible for providing him happiness.
"Martha, come with me into town. I've a mind to purchase a gift for you!" Mary took her friend's hand and pulling her along, strode purposefully out the door.
* * *
The next week passed quickly with plans for the party being made, invitations written and sent out, a new dress for Martha purchased from one of the very best clothiers in Yorkshire, and the hiring of a few new and temporary servants to complete the tasks of decorating and preparing the house, grounds and ballroom for the festive event. Mary and Dickon saw each other only briefly for the first half of the week, as Mary had taken Martha into town to shop for clothing and as a result also ended up taking her sisters the next day. Lord Craven had made an allowance for the Sowerby's at Mary's request, though Mrs. Sowerby was quite embarrassed to accept such charity. Mary would have no arguments -- it was her party and she wanted everyone to be happy. She knew the Sowerby's had no money and would not feel comfortable at a society party unless they were dressed well. For Mary, it was a gesture of taking care of one's family, those she loved most.
Colin was another story. He'd avoided Mary for days, but she was determined to confront him and forbid him to try and ruin her day. Cornering him in the upstairs hallway, Mary did not hide her disgust at the way he'd been behaving.
"Colin, we have to talk."
"No, we don't. I have nothing whatsoever to say to you, Mary Lennox."
"Well, I have something to say to you, Colin Craven. I have tried to extend my kindness to you out of love for my family -- "
At this, Colin rolled his eyes.
"--yes, I know you don't think I love you, and I don't love how you've been acting lately but that's not the same. I wanted us to continue our friendship but it seems you have left me no choice but to simply tell you that I am disappointed in your drinking and carousing in the dark of night with women of questionable morals."
"How do you know where I've been or who I've been with?" he asked.
Mary was taken aback. "What do you mean?"
"Are you having me followed? I am a man of legal age and I am allowed into pubs and I am certainly allowed to choose my own company, am I not? Why is it you're spying on me?"
Mary had no answer for him and realized that what he said was true. She had been prying into his life. She'd told herself that she wanted him to just disappear, but her interest in his private activities proved too strong and destroyed any hope of excuse she could conjure. "I told you before. I care about you."
"If you care so much about me, why do you talk about me instead of TO me? I am not deaf, Mary. I hear Cook talking in the kitchens, I know you confide in Martha -- even Medlock can't remain silent on these personal subjects. They all know I love you and how you humiliated and rejected me. You think you are the victim in this, having to tolerate me and my lasting affection for you, nay my adoration of you since childhood. You, having to tolerate love as if it disgusted you. You want him, you have always wanted him and I have known it and yes, I was a fool for hoping things would be different. Is this punishment not sufficient for you?"
"I'm sorry, I--" Mary had no words. She stood rooted to the spot, trying to understand Colin's feelings. She'd always painted herself the victim, but as she thought about what he'd said, she knew that she had not been very sensitive to his plight.
"If you must marry him, then I will try to be happy for you, Mary. I should have known this was never meant to be. Us, I mean. I don't hate you. But I cannot bear to continue loving you, either."
"Colin, you can't just ruin your life over this. I see you have been drinking and your reputation will suffer. Not only that, but your father -- he cares for you. You're hurting all of us. Is there no way I can help you?"
"I'd like to bring someone to the party, if that's agreeable."
"Who?"
"A woman I've been seeing."
Mary's stomach felt a bit queasy. "She's not a--"
Colin raised his eyebrow questioningly. Mary let her unfinished sentence hang in the air, hoping he would be able to finish it for her in his mind.
"She won't cause a problem, if that's what you mean."
"What's her name?"
"Catherine."
Mary hesitated, and then gave in. "All right, Colin. I will have an invitation drawn up for her. Just give me the information I need and we'll set it straight."
"May I go now?" Colin gestured toward the stairs. "Catherine is waiting for me."
A pang of jealousy hit Mary, seemingly from nowhere. She had no good reason to feel this way just because Colin had found someone. He didn't belong to her like property; she had no say over him. Wasn't it just a few days before she'd been wishing he would find someone to devote his attentions to? Mary thought about her feelings on and off throughout the day, finally coming to the conclusion that she didn't love Colin in a husbandly way, but she did feel somewhat possessive of him. She'd been the one to help cure him, she'd been the one to make him realize he wasn't going to get a hump on his back; she was instrumental in one of his most critical fundamental years. This did not equate to a sexual attraction, but she had a hard time letting him grow and move on and away from her. She had had too much power over him, even in her absence, and now that he was finally moving beyond her hold, she was angry with him. He had not only kept her in mind and heart during their separation, but Mary too had held him in a similar fashion. Now it was time to move into the next phase of their lives, and Mary needed to focus on her husband-to-be.
* * *
Amidst the plans for their engagement party, Mary and Dickon found a few moments to steal away from the hustle and bustle in the manor. They had been separated with the trips into the city with Lord Craven and Mrs. Medlock and even Martha, while Dickon continued his work duties and also helped out the rest of his family as he'd always done. He also had his animals to tend to, and after a few days Mary found herself jealous of them having the chance to spend time with him when she'd been pulled in so many directions. The bulk of wedding plans lay on the bride and her family as tradition dictated, and the Sowerby's did not have the means to arrange any such parties even in the best of their circumstances.
Mary had yearned to visit Dickon's cottage again, but had cautioned herself not to put herself in temptation's path. They had gone out for a walk on the moor just before twilight, and Mary was glad for the first time to venture beyond the garden's high walls and old memories. Dickon held her hand once they were away from the house and could not be spied upon.
"Are you still so shy you cannot hold my hand in front of them?" Mary asked playfully.
Dickon remained silent but stole an affectionate glance to her and squeezed her hand.
They walked along the path leisurely as if neither one had a destination. Mary knew that after they'd walked the path long enough, they'd end up at Dickon's place, and she felt more and more excited with each step. Silently praying that Dickon would not suggest they return to the manor, Mary tried to keep his attention diverted.
"Oh, I do love walking! I've energy to spare this evening; I don't know what has got into me. Happiness, maybe," she said.
"Aye," Dickon agreed. "The whole family are fettlin' about the place thinking on the wedding. Is Colin still mardy feelin' about us?"
"I thought I might have been a little unkind to him of late. We spoke and it didn't end exactly well. He makes me feel bad. Am I terribly selfish to not want to think on him right now?"
"No, lass. I don't think tha need worry on Colin tonight at the least."
Dickon pulled Mary close and they walked closely and in silence for a while. The sun traveled down to the horizon and they talked about the animals and the moors, places Mary had visited and places Dickon yearned to see one day. Before long they'd reached the small cottage. Mary thought it had not felt like over an hour's journey at all. She didn't even feel tuckered, but her shoes had started to pinch slightly.
Dickon paused outside the door and looked at Mary in what was left of the sunlight which had now turned into a blue haze.
"Shouldn't we go inside?" she asked. "Have some tea, maybe?"
He smiled, then opened the door and waited for Mary to enter. She removed her shawl and placed it on the nearest chair. All of the furniture was plain, unembellished wood. Dickon set about starting a fire to warm the room while Mary seated herself in a large and soft chair big enough to suit two or three people. Set in the corners of the seat were pillows stitched with Bible verses.
"Did you mother make these?" Mary asked as she admired the neat stitch work.
"Aye, and my sisters," Dickon said as he stoked the fire. He took off his brown coat and set it in the second room, his bedroom, then went to get water for tea. When he returned, he set the kettle above the fire. Standing in the middle of the room, the firelight flickered on his face and on the walls, bathing everything in an orange glow.
"Come sit with me, Dickon," Mary said, patting the seat next to her.
He hesitated, and then joined her, sitting at the far end of the lounge and leaving the space of one person between them. Mary scooted over a little, and though Dickon seemed slightly uncomfortable, he didn't get up or complain.
"You look worried." Mary leaned toward him. "Is everything all right?"
Dickon's face looked pained for a moment, like he was struggling with something and losing. "I shouldn't 'ave brought you here, Mary. It isn't right -- we shouldn't be alone together yet."
Mary didn't know what to say. She felt they'd been thinking the same things, of all the possibilities of things that could happen in that cottage with his bed so near and a nice warm fire, a night with no interruptions and no duties to tend to.
"I've hardly seen you this week; it's been agony," Mary said. "There's been so much to do, we haven't had any peace. Would it be so wrong to stay here tonight, together?"
"I've already sinned in my heart against thee, Mary. I dare not trust mysel' alone here with thee. We mun stay true."
Frustration and a tinge of anger rose in Mary's heart. She wanted to be good, to have a special honeymoon night, but Dickon was so close and the danger of temptation loomed large. Dickon seemed to understand exactly what she was feeling because he took grasped her hand. Before she had a chance to say anything, Dickon had risen to fetch teacups and was soon pouring the boiling water into a humble porcelain cup. They sipped their tea in silence, watching the fire crackle and jump.
Stealing glances at Dickon over the rim of her cup, Mary smiled each time he caught her looking. She'd grown more comfortable with him; the anxiety she used to feel whenever he was around her had lessened and she could hold his gaze without looking away.
"I can't wait to be your wife," she whispered.
Dickon nodded. "Soon, Mary," he assured her. "We'll come here again and we need not stay in this room."
Mary felt a thrill go through her body as he said this, hinting at the time when they would finally share his bed. Soon. Mary held onto that one word through the night as she slept in Dickon's bed alone while he gallantly slept in the other room. Having him so near but yet so far brought strange ideas into Mary's head -- images of them running away to be married in secret, forgetting about family and friends and everyone and forgoing the parties and society rules and etiquette. Soon there would be nothing to keep them apart, and Mary felt she couldn't be married fast enough.