Disclaimer: "The Secret Garden" belongs to Frances Hodgson-Burnett and was published in 1910.
Vignette 4/4
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1919
Mary's mother, the regretted Mrs Lennox, had been beautiful. She had been gifted with not only a beautiful appearance, but also with a comely – if rather flighty – character, and had been dutiful enough to learn pretty manners and marry a young man with a more than satisfying income and position. Of all those who had known her, the only one perhaps who did not regret her was her own daughter; for all her pretty manners had not made her want children, so she'd left Mary, the plain and squalling infant who had deformed her figure for months, to the care of her servants.
Of those few who had seen both Mary and her mother, they all had compared the beautiful woman with her yellow sullen child, and had not understood how they could be related. Though it had been the Indian climate that had caused the child's indolence and plainness, and only a month at Misselthwaite had made such an impact on Mary's face and temper that Mrs Medlock called her almost pretty. If this had been a month's work, would the miracle continue as more time passed?
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At nineteen years of age, Miss Mary Lennox could be called a beautiful woman. She was not as pale as the London beauties were, and she could look rather sour when faced with strangers or with her governess, but her calm demeanour and her artless way more than made up for those perceived defects, and she had more than her share of silent admirers. Colin knew for a fact that little Tommy Sowerby had declared his intent of wedding her instead of his own mother. His brothers had been appalled.
Colin was rather amused at the fact that Mary was still blinded to her own merits, and he had used their last stay in company to evaluate his cousin's appeal to the more refined society. This very scientific experiment had been so conclusive – and entertaining – that Colin decided to repeat it as soon as possible.
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The occasion came as they were in London. There they went, Mary looking rather impatient to go back to their hotel, Colin trailing behind and counting the admiring glances turned her way.
They decided to eat at the hotel's restaurant on their last day, having walked a great deal in the afternoon, and the apprentice who took their coats looked twice over his shoulder to gaze dreamily upon Mary's profile. Suddenly, as Colin had just asked his cousin about her visit to Kew, he heard a great muffled bang and saw that the assistant had dropped a heavy coat and was staring insistently at them. The maître d' cried out, "Basil!" and Colin witnessed Mary's mouth tightening, tightening as it had not in years –
Sitting in the train and facing his pale-faced and raging cousin, Colin hummed the tune to "with silver bells and cockle-shells", and thought Dickon would have enjoyed the moment.
… and marigolds in a row.
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Basil was the little boy who started calling Mary "Mistress Mary Quite Contrary" when she stayed with his family just after her parents' death.
"Her visit to Kew" is referring to the Kew Gardens. And Wikipedia says that "in February 1913 the Tea House was burned down by suffragettes Olive Wharry and Lilian Lenton during a series of arson attacks in London", which is useless knowledge but interesting all the same.
As to Dickon… I'm not sure how you'll interpret that, but I think that everything becomes clear when you look at the date.
Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!