Title: Those Qualities Upon
Which Friendship Lives
Summary: Mary returns to
Misselthwaite Manor from boarding school in
Rating: R (eventually)
Ship: Mary/Dickon
A/N This is my first serious
I hope you will be inspired to write some
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Those Qualities Upon
Which Friendship Lives
by Mena
Mary
"She should be here already!" cried Colin, a whiny tinge in his
voice. He'd always been an impatient boy and now he was an equally impatient
young man. Once thought to be lame, Colin had been walking for eight years now
and was quite a horseman to boot. He'd grown to a lanky six feet plus one inch
and his once pallid skin now glowed robustly in the crisp morning air.
Dickon knew to remain silent when Colin was cranky, which was often. He didn't
mind it at all, as his personality was more suited to quiet and tranquility, the essence of which he exuded in great
quantities but that had little effect on Colin. Dickon had also reached his
full height of six feet and the baby fat he used to carry had melted into
muscle. Working in the Manor gardens with Ben Weatherstaff and tending to his
animals on the moors had given him strength and resilience. He was also
infinitely more able to stand a wait than Colin. Where Colin had taken to
grabbing flower heads and picking them apart with gusto, Dickon simply leaned
against a tree and breathed in the scent of the newly crushed petals.
Dickon's sister Martha still worked at Misselthwaite Manor. The stout
Housekeeper Mrs. Medlock had taken her on as
apprentice with the understanding that when she retired, Martha was to become
head Housekeeper for the manor. Presently, Martha approached the young men
while wiping her hands on her apron. "I wondered where you'd got to,"
she said in a thick
"Where is she? Didn't they say the carriage would be here at
"Ah!" laughed Martha. "'Tis only seven
and forty, Master Colin," she said.
"Bother!" Colin said with a growl, stomping off into the house.
"Wha was that all about?" Martha addressed
her brother.
"He's –" Dickon began but realized he didn't have an adequate
adjective to insert. "Colin" he finished with a slight shrug.
"Does tha' need any help inside, Martha?"
he asked politely.
Martha rolled her eyes to the Heavens before answering. "Colin's too
highly strung. I don't know if he'll drive poor Miss Mary back to her boarding
school. She'd wish she'd never come back with the way he's carryin'
on."
Dickon gave his sister a hearty grin. They'd both seen Colin at his worst and
knew he was a high maintenance friend. Still in all, Dickon liked Colin's
energy and found him somewhat amusing. At least Colin was no longer ill and
could walkabout as much and as often as he pleased.
Mary's absence had not boded well with her cousin; he'd thrown his first fit in
two years when it had been announced that Mary would go to a boarding school
when she turned thirteen. Archibald Craven didn't enjoy the idea of her leaving
but saw that it was necessary for Mary to be educated properly and to learn to
be a society woman. Thus she was sent to
So it was that Dickon took to the moors to think about how he'd react to seeing
Mary again. Would she be very different? Would she have a beau in the city? Had
she forgotten their garden? Dickon stopped and looked back at the house upon
the hill, so formidable and dark. Only a ways away stood the stone walls of
their secret garden, shrouded in ivy and cared for by Dickon himself over the
years. Colin had helped at first but with Mary gone, the garden seemed to lose
some of its magic for him. Dickon felt the garden was saturated with magic,
much more than before, and Colin just couldn't see it. For Colin, Mary was his
antidote, his savior. For Dickon, his peace would always
come from nature and being surrounded by animals and earth. Mary was the person
he'd most like to share those things with, but never told her. She was far away
now and though she returned, Dickon did not expect the girl he once knew but
his heart held onto a sliver of hope that the child she'd been would still be
wick inside the body of a young woman. It is the child in us that keeps our
hearts, his mother always said. He hoped Mary had not lost her heart to the
busy city and all it had to offer.
* * *
The rumble of wheels churning on the road and the shrill whinny of a horse drew
Dickon out of his reverie. A carriage appeared on the horizon and Dickon began
to run toward the house to alert Colin, Martha and the servants. There were two
miles between the park gate and the stone court of the Manor and the carriage
had already traveled along the grounds for many a
minute while Dickon was lost in thought. He reached the door just as the
carriage pulled into the courtyard. Colin flew out and ran up to the carriage
before it'd even stopped. Mrs. Medlock appeared at
the door with a frown plastered on her withered face.
"I've told him a million times not to run like that, but he never
listens!" she cried exasperatedly but with a smile. Her mood shifted abruptly
as she looked upon the now stopped carriage as the footman opened the door.
"Come now, she's home!" she said, disobeying her own rule about
running and throwing herself toward the carriage.
Dickon hung back as Martha came out onto the step to watch the proceedings. He
caught his sister's worried glance and returned it. They weren't the kind of
folk inclined to be in anyone's face, preferring instead to wait until the
excitement had died down and everyone was in their right minds to make
inquiries.
Mary emerged from the carriage, clutching her skirts around her. She stepped
down daintily, revealing for a moment her stocking covered ankle. Dickon took
this in, noting that Colin would have missed it, being as close as he was to
her. She looked radiant: her long dark blonde hair was pinned up under a fancy
blue hat and only a few twisted tendrils hung about her rosy cheeks. Herss oss of blue and eggshell
had a laced collar and the equally laced hem hung all the way to her feet.
Dickon's silent inventory was interrupted by Colin, who grabbed Mary about the
waist and hoisted her into his arms, spinning her around in circles in the
courtyard. Mary giggled, trying to hold onto her hat while being spun.
"Colin Craven, release her immediately!" cried Mrs. Medlock, who tried to extricate the young man from Mary to
no avail.
"I'm only having a bit of fun, Mrs. Medlock,"
Colin said as he finally set the flustered young woman down.
"You've been taught not to play roughly with young ladies, Master Colin!
Whatever shall we do with you?"
"Tell my father, probably," he replied simply, used to being reported
for his antics. "Though he won't be back for another
month as it is so my punishment will just have to wait."
Mrs. Medlock sniffed at the young man and addressed
Mary. "Mary, it is so good to have you home!"
"Thank you, Mrs. Medlock. I'm very
pleased to be back," Mary said, looking from Colin to Mrs. Medlock and back again. Turning away from them, she looked
toward the garden. "Is the garden still wick?"
"We've been keeping it up for you, Mary," said Colin quickly, taking
her arm. He guided her toward the house.
"I trust you have, Colin," she replied.
The entourage approached the step as the footman unloaded Mary's belongings and
handed them off to the house staff. C sti still held
Mary's arm yet she seemed to want to pull away from him. Dickon moved further
away from the group so he could watch them all go inside and follow after.
"Welcome back, Miss Mary," said Martha with a full grin and curtsy.
"I've made up your room just the way thee likes it."
"Thank you, Martha," said Mary, somewhat distractedly. She looked
past Martha, into the house, then back at the carriage, and out toward the
moors. She appeared to be searching for something or someone. Not finding it,
Mary turned back to Martha. "Where's Dickon?" she asked.
"Why, he's right here," said Martha with a giggle, gesturing toward
her brother who lurked about ten feet away and remained partially hidden behind
a great potted plant. "He's hidin' in the bushes
just there."
Dickon, having been found out, emerged from behind the foliage to face Mary.
"Dickon!" said Mary with considerable enthusiasm. She pulled away
from Colin and walked to where Dickon stood. She had to look up to see his
eyes. "My, you've grown so tall!"
"Aye," he said, looking into her large eyes and suddenly wondering if
she thought his extra height was a good thing or not.
The group had stopped, hesitant to enter the house without their guest of honor who so stubbornly kept them waiting as she spoke to
her childhood friend. Colin, who could stand no longer a wait than three
seconds, boldly approached the couple and in an almost complaining tone asked
her if she wouldn’t like to come inside and have some tea or a cake.
Mary pried her gaze from Dickon and looked at her cousin. "Yes, of
course," she said. And to Dickon, "You'll be joining us, won't you,
Dickon?"
The eagerness in her voice was not lost on him and he obligingly assured her he
would indeed join the group.
"Come now, Mary Lennox, we haven't seen you in almost two years. We've
much to talk to you about," said Mrs. Medlock,
ushering Martha into the house anstursturing for Mary
to follow.
Colin looked from Mary to Dickon and seemed to realize something had changed, but
he was not so smart as to figure out exactly what. Mary herself could not place
the change and so, with Colin tugging at her sleeve like a toddler, she finally
turned from Dickon and walked through the familiar old paneled
oak doors and into the enormous hall.
Dickon entered after her and the manservant stationed at the door closed it
behind them. The procession led to the drawing room, where tea and cakes were
being set out for the guests. Martha flitted alongside Mary, whispering to her
until Mrs. Medlock ordered the servant to take Mary's
hat and make sure her belongings were being situated in her room. Martha
curtseyed and rushed out of the room obediently.
"Do sit down and rest yourself, Mary,"
ordered Mrs. Medlock in a matronly way.
Mary obliged, taking a seat near the hearth. Colin quickly claimed the seat
next to her while Dickon again chose to lurk rather than make his presence too
obvious. A seat nearer to the door and outside the circle of conversation was a
good enough vantage point for him to continue his scrutiny of Mary Lennox. As
she chatted gaily with Colin and Mrs. Medlock,
Dickon's gaze traveled over her body from head to
toe, absorbing the changes that had taken place in her. She was taller and more
weight helped fill out her womanly curves. When he'd first set eyes on Mary as
a child, she was weak, pallid, thin and sickly looking. The woman who sat
before him balancing a cup of tea on a saucer in her gloved hands looked a far
cry from that small, angry little girl of her youth. Dickon hadn't cared
whether she liked him or not at the time, for he liked her anyway. Now it was
all different, and it did matter. And when Colin leaned closer to Mary as she
spoke to her, Dickon acknowledged that he did feel the first pangs of jealousy
begin in his heart.
Colin grew up privileged while Dickon was just a common boy who loved the moors
and working with his hands. Dickon had worked at Misselthwaite since Mary had
gone, tending to her garden as promised. Although Colin had said he and Dickon
took care of it, in truth the garden thrived due to Dickon's constant
attention. Colin took the lush garden for granted and of late had not bothered
to enter its stone walls.
Dickon had never been envious of the grandeur that surrounded Colin. He felt
sorry for the younger boy having lost his mother as a baby and being ignored by
his father for so long, but those times were past and now Colin was the apple
of his father's eye, healthy and energetic if not still prone to tantrums. It
was Mary who played the deciding factor in any rivalry that would arise between
the boys. Dickon had always felt that Mary liked him just a bit more than she
liked Colin, and this thought comforted him, though subconsciously, whenever
Mary seemed to spend more time with Colin than himself. Her journey to school
came as a shock – he was losing one of his best friends to a life he'd never be
part of. Now that Mary had returned, Dickon knew Colin would try his best to
fit himself into the plan for Mary's life. He was in a much better position to
offer her a good life, but marrying a cousin was not as acceptable as it had
been, which worked to Dickon's advantage.
"Dickon, come over here, don't hide away again," Mary said, beckoning
him.
Shaken from his thoughts, Dickon shyly approached Mary and Colin and took a
seat across from them. Mary kept her hands neatly folded in her lap, the cup of
tea now sat on a tray on the low table before her. Dickon wasn't sure what to
do with his hands so he clutched his cap and kneaded it with his fingers. He
looked down at his hands and saw the soil still under his fingernails. Worried
that Mary would see the dirt, Dickon curled his
fingers into a fist and hid them behind the fabric of his hat. When he looked
up at her, she wasn't looking at his hands at all. She was looking straight
into his eyes questioningly. Dickon read the silent worry that lurked in her
gaze and longed to answer it with reassurance but this was neither the time nor
the place.
Martha appeared at the door and announced that Mary's room was ready.
"I'd best go upstairs then," said Mary, rising.
Colin immediately reached out to help escort Mary, but Mrs. Medlock
chastised him loudly.
"Colin Craven, leave the girl ALONE! Stop your pawing and let her go
upstairs. My word, you are an insufferable child!" Mrs. Medlock huffed and puffed, her face growing red with
frustration.
Colin only laughed mischievously. "I'm much too large now to be called a
child, Medlock," he said good-naturedly.
Martha rescued Mary by taking her from the room quickly, while Medlock and Coin were having their little quarrel. Mary
again had trouble keeping her eyes off of Dickon, which he noticed with a
feeling of pride. He'd have to try and catch her after dinner. Surely, she
would want to see their garden again, and he wanted nothing more than to show
her the flowers that had bloomed in her absence.
"Dickon," Colin called. "What say we go for a ride while
Mistress Mary is being quite contrary up in her room?"
"Riding?" Dickon echoed.
"Yes, you know, on a horse?" Colin laughed again, a somewhat mocking
laugh this time.
"I-I don't think I'm up for ridin' right now,
Colin."
"Master Craven you will be the death of me," sighed Mrs. Medlock, clutching her breast. "Do find something to
occupy yourself with until dinner is served. You have
just over an hour, but remember be back on time."
"Yes, Mrs. Medlock," Colin said, rolling
his eyes after the woman had quit the room. "What shall we do, Dickon?
Mary's not like to come down before dinner and Martha probably talking her ears
off up there."
"I'm going to tend to th'
garden, Master Colin," said Dickon, rising and heading for the door.
"Ah, the garden. I haven't been there in ages.
Are you keeping up with it?"
"Aye," said Dickon quickly, not wanting to give Colin any excuse to
invite himself along. "I'd best be getting to it," he said, swiftly
exiting the room and running out the large oak doors. Once outside, Dickon
breathed freely. He'd never felt so uncomfortable at Misselthwaite Manor—it had
become almost a second home to him in the years past. He wondered what other
changes would come about because of Mary's return and how he would deal with
them all. Looking over his shoulder as he walked to the garden, he saw a female
figure in an upstairs window. Mary. She was looking out over the moor and
caught sight of him as he became visible on the path. Dickon looked back at her
for a moment, unsmiling. He then turned into the evening breeze and made his
destination clear. She would know where to find him if she wanted him.