Inspired by the book and the musical

1917

"Wha if it isn't Miss Mary Lennox!"

"Martha!" Exclaimed the young lady with the light curls, dropping her bags to embrace the dark haired lady's maid. Martha laughed and pulled the girl to arm's length. Mary's smiled lit up her light face.

"Aren't tha a proper lady now," Martha said picking up the young woman's bags. "Wha the whole house's been rife with excitement since tha wrote tha was comin'. Master is very excited to see thee. As is Mr. Weatherstaff and Mrs. Medlock, though tha know she'd never say it."

Mary's laugh sounded like water trickling lightly, "Oh, Martha, I've missed your energy. You've always something you're excited about." She glanced around the familiar manor where she'd spent half of her childhood. She'd only lived there a few years but if felt more of a home than India ever did. "How's my garden?"

Martha's smile faltered a bit and the light behind her eyes flickered out, "Dickon was lookin' after it, tha know. But he was called to the front like all the other boys. Mr. Weatherstaff's been lookin' o'er it for thee." She clopped up the stairwell, "But Dickon is doin' good as well. In fact, he'll be on leave soon to join us for Easter!"

"Wonderful. I'm so sorry, that he has to be fighting through." Mary said. She was used to saying that. 'Im so sorry,' was what you said to those waiting for their boys. It was what you said to those who's boys would never come back. "At least Colin is safe."

Martha nodded as she led Mary down one of the small halls, "Yes, that is good. I know Master is happy about that."

Mary felt tactless. she shouldn't have said that at all. While the wealthy could pay their way out of the war, poor families like Martha's had no choice. They had to fight.

Martha pushed open the door, "I thought tha'd like to stay in your same room."

"Yes, thank you." Mary stepped into the room. It seemed so small now. Everything at her University had suddenly made all her old things seem trivial. "When does Uncle Archibald wish to see me?"

Martha laid out Mary's luggage on her bed, "I'll set out some tea for thee. I'm sure he'll have it with thee."

"Thank you, Martha," Mary nodded to her as she left the room. Martha had grown up as well. She'd gotten married to a boy in the village and was expecting a child. Mary supposed that meant she'd have to hire a new lady's maid soon. She couldn't think that anyone would do the job as well as Martha.

It had been a while since Mary had been to Misselthwaite. She'd visited for Christmas last. Dickon had still been home then. He'd grown up too. And handsome he'd become.

Of course Mary was only being foolish. Maybe she could toy with the idea of Dickon but he could never be a suitor for her. Just a dear friend. Yes, her best friend.

Cousin Colin was at school as well and was soon to be back home. Though he'd grown Mary could always see that sickly little boy in him. But years of being in the garden had strengthened him and he'd become a strapping young man himself.

Mary herself had grown. Many people said she was a beauty but she never saw what they did. Mrs. Medlock told her she was the spitting image of her Aunt Lily but the only photo of Lily she'd ever seen was small and grainy so she couldn't tell.

Seventeen and a lady, that's what she was now. Boys now acted oddly around her, like they were frightened by her. She yearned to see Dickon and Colin again. She yearned for some piece of childhood.

...

"Uncle Archibald?" Mary said from the door to his study. "May I come in?"

The hunched figure by the fire stood up slowly, casting a dark shadow onto the wall, "Of course, Mary." He turned around and saw her, a smile lighting his aging face. He paused for a moment before gesturing her over.

Just like Lily, he thought as she neared him. I almost thought it was her for a moment.

"Oh, do sit down, uncle," she said kindly and he obliged. "How are you? How is Colin?"

He mechanically lowered his hunched body into the withered brown chair, "I'm alright, thank you. Colin is fine as well. He should be arriving tomorrow." Archibald reached out a shaking hand to grab his tea, "I hear that Dickon is to be back soon as well."

"Yes, that's what Martha says," Mary sipped her tea. "I just want the war to be over."

Archibald nodded solemnly. He seemed to be shrinking more into himself each year. Sometimes she feared he was still brooding over her aunt, but he always seemed to soon get his spirits up. Today, however, he seemed pensive. He hardly looked at her while they spoke. "How's school?"

"Good," Mary responded. "It's wonderful, really. I'm so pleased to get to learn, I really am. I miss my garden though. There aren't many gardens in London."

Archibald smiled a bit and caught her eye for only a moment before looking away, "The garden doesn't do as well without you here. Even that Dickon boy couldn't make the flowers bloom as brightly as you can."

Mary gave a humbled grin, "I'd like to go out and see it. Would you like to accompany me, Uncle?"

"Oh, no, dear. Not now," he sighed, setting down his cup. "Perhaps tomorrow. I'm far too tired. Go on out without me."

Mary sat down her cup as well and thanked him for having her. She was desperate to get outside and breathe in the spring air. How she missed it. She was itching to take off her constricting corset and horribly heavy dress and run through the fields as she did when she was a girl. Perhaps she would at nightfall when the whole house was asleep. The thought have her a fiendish pleasure.

The day was warm with just a small nip in the air. She didn't mind the wind long as she could see her garden once more. She didn't need a key; they never locked it anymore.

"Hel'o, Miss Mary," Ben waved to her from across the meadow.

"Hello, sir," she said warmly as she walked on to the garden. She could nearly burst from excitement. Mary felt as giddy as she did the first time she'd found it.

The door was smaller than she remembered it and she ha to duck to fit under it. But everything inside was just as wonderful. A blanket of pansies. Clusters or crocuses and lilies and roses. Flowers hanging from above like dainty purple chandeliers.

"It's lookin' verra beautiful, isn't it Miss Mary?"

Mary's heart stopped right in her chest as a tall boy in his tan uniform appeared from his hiding spot among the leaves. Dickon smiled as bright as the sun and she felt a very queer twist inside her insides that made her feel lighter than a flower petal.

He sauntered forward. He'd grown taller and more muscular as well. There was a thin scar down his cheek but he was the same Dickon. Very handsome Dickon.

No, she told herself strictly. Don't think of him that way. It would never work out. Never.

Dickon stopped in front of her. "You're lookin' verra beautiful as well."

Mary squinted, "Honestly, Dickon. You're being improper."

His smile grew, "Jus' sayin' wha is true." He came even closer. "Wonderful to see thee."

His warm smile melted her cold exterior, "Wonderful to see thee as well."