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Return to the Garden	By : MollieWoods Category: Titles in the Public Domain > The Secret Garden Views: 6364 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work fiction, based on The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett.

Chapter List
- 1-Proem
- 2-Mary's Return (Part I)
- 1
- 2
The Secret Garden

Return to the Garden

~Mary Returns~

A/N: Thank you Needleinthehay for reviewing. Here are the answers to your questions:

1. No, it is not going to be a short story. I know things happened rather fast in the first chapter, but there is a plot. I just needed to explain a couple of things.

2. I know there is a 2-year age gap, not 3, but Dickon had only had his birthday the week before.

3. Lord Craven was in France on business, and Colin had gone with him. No, Martha hadn’t gone to France, she came back to check on the house occasionally and found them talking one day, so she knew that Mary was there. Mrs Medlock had gone to look after Colin whilst his father was working, and the other servants were at home on leave- after all, they’d be cleaning/cooking/polishing boots for no-one! Dickon was the head gardener, so the gardeners didn’t need to come in either.

4. Dickon is living on the grounds, although not very close to the house, and lives quite nicely on the pay that Archibald gives the Head Gardener and Keeper of the Key. He sends quite a lot home to his mother, and so they live fine as well because by now, all the children are working.

I hope that’s answered your questions, although you’ll have to keep reading for more info. :P

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Mary spun around and smiled. She was wearing a pink and cream dress, calf-length according to the new styles. Her button up boots were polished, and so shiny you could see your face in them. She wasn’t wearing gloves because, since it was spring, she would be too hot. Her blonde hair was shining in the soft spring sunshine, brushed to perfection by her maid, Nancy. She had not had it cut into a bob, unlike most of the girls who had been at her boarding school.

Checking her reflection in the mirror, she thought back to the first time she had come to Misselthwaite Manor. She had been a pale-faced, sulky, spotty, mousy-haired 10-year-old, a spoilt brat if there ever was one. Her mother, Elizabeth Lennox, had only cared about parties and fashion and so had little time for her daughter. As a result, Mary had been very lonely, too.

Just imagine! She hadn’t even been able to dress herself properly! And it was thanks to her maid, Martha, and her brother, Dickon…

As she thought of Dickon, her heart gave a flip-flop. He was the one to whom she had entrusted the key to the garden, against everyone’s expectations, when her uncle had sent her away to boarding school when she was 12. They had all thought that she would have given the key to Colin.

As she thought of Colin, she frowned. Colin was in love with her. Even a blind man could see that, and Mary was not a blind man. Even if he had hidden it better, Mary would have known, since Colin had declared his ‘undying love’ for her the day before she left for boarding school. Her birthday. Although Colin was sweet, he wasn’t the one for her. And anyway, marriage of first cousins was frowned upon nowadays. Although she did not think Colin would truly be so worried about that.

No, Colin wasn’t where the key to her heart lay. But someone else was…

“Mistress Mary!” called Nancy. “The carriage is here!”

Mary took one last glance at the room where she had lived for the last 9 years, and her heart leapt. She was going home.

* * * *

Colin Craven sat on his windowsill. He was in a thoroughly bad mood, and even the sun beating down outside couldn’t heighten his spirits. Dickon and his damn pony were outside again, which meant that Colin would not go to the garden. Not if Dickon had been there, planting his stupid Sweetheart roses for Mary.

Even the war had not dampened his ardour. Mary, of course, remained blissfully unaware, which was why Colin planned to be engaged to Mary as soon as she arrived back. Which, Colin hoped, would be extremely soon.

What puzzled Colin was who she had given the key to, when she left. He had been expecting her to hand it to him, since he was sure that she loved him. But no. She gave the key to Dickon Sowerby, the dumb, good-for-nothing Yorkshire gardener who had, he feared, stolen Mary’s heart.

Well… he would just have to steal it back.

Just then, his door came bursting open.

“Master Colin! Master Colin!” cried Medlock, her face going red from climbing up the stairs to his room.

“What is it, Medlock?” Colin snapped. “I’m not in the mood for your petty problems today.”

“But Master Colin… Mary’s coming home!”

“What?” Colin stared at her in shock. “Home? Mary? WHEN?”

“On Friday, Master Colin!” Colin noted, to his utmost surprise, that Medlock was dancing. Everyone knew she hated the girl! But still. Nothing could distract him from the happiest thought he’d had since the war.

Mary’s coming home…

* * * *

Colin sighed. How long did it take to get from London to Yorkshire? He’d been waiting for 45 minutes already! There was a knock at his door and Charlotte, his maid, entered the room, smiling at him as she saw what he was doing. “Mistress Mary won’t be home for a while yet, you know, Colin. It takes longer than 45 minutes to get from London to the Moors!”

Colin liked Charlotte. She was from Shropshire, and her mother had known his mother. They had gone to school together, so when Charlotte was old enough to find a job, her mother had recommended Misselthwaite Manor straight away. They had lost contact when Charlotte was born, so her mother hadn’t known that Lily was dead. She was the same age as Mary, so that would make her 21. If Charlotte hadn’t have been so poor, Colin would almost certainly have wanted to marry her. But she was, so he didn’t. He’d like to go to Shropshire one day, though. Charlotte had told him all about the hill they called the Wrekin, and he wanted to climb it. Ever since he’d gotten over from his illness, Colin had wanted to see the world. He’d been to France on business dealings with his father when he was 14, he’d climbed a hill in Wales, and now he wanted to go somewhere different.

“Colin? Are you alright?” He jumped at the sound of Charlotte’s voice, then relaxed and smiled at her.

“Yes, Charlotte. I’m fine. Do you want to come to the garden with me, after I’ve got the key off that green-fingered oaf, Dickon?” Charlotte was, aside from Dickon and Ben Weatherstaff, the only servant who’d been invited to the garden. But she’d never been in it. For some reason, Dickon had always found some excuse not to give him the key. But he’d get it, this time.

“Colin, Dickon’s gone to London to meet Mary. Master Craven offered to go with him, but he said he wanted to meet her alone.” Charlotte looked faintly scared as she said this, knowing Colin’s temper all too well.

Colin stood up, his face a picture of stone-cold fury.

“And why did my father allow this?”

“Because he trusts Dickon, Colin. Please, calm down! Otherwise I shall have to tell your father. You are still under his care as long as you stay at the Manor, you know!”

“You’re right, Charlotte. You know, I thing that Dickon has taken rather a fancy to Mary. If my father knew about it…”

Charlotte looked up, horrified and angry.

“Colin! Just because you are master of the house, gives you no excuse to accuse a member of staff who is perfectly innocent of things that you have no proof to accuse them with!” But her cheeks flushed a dark red as she said this, and Colin narrowed her eyes at her.

“Charlotte, there’s something you’re not telling me.” Charlotte raised her eyebrows and stared straight at him, although her crimson cheeks rather ruined the effect of ‘cool and calm’, Colin reflected.

“And what if there is? While you’re shouting and having a childish temper tantrum, I don’t see any reason why I should tell you. Anyway, what I know would only make you even more furious, and I certainly don’t want to be screamed at any more, thank you very much!”

I took a deep breath, and Charlotte grinned at me.

“That’s better, Colin. I’ll leave you now- I just came to check if you were alright!”

She turned around and went out, closing the door softly behind her.

* * * *

The carriage horse clip-clopped, clip-clopped, its gentle motion lulling the afternoon sun to sleep and creating an air of peace in the carriage. Inside, Mary and Dickon sat, conversing peacefully.

“And how has the garden been, Dickon?” Mary asked, smiling at him. He had clearly bursting to tell her something throughout the polite conversation about her boarding school, and she assumed it was something about the garden.

“Oh, it’s not half bin lovely this year, Mary- and all the years past, too. Tis a shame that you arrived a month too late to catch the spring flowers, but I’m sure th’ summer ones’ll be right and pretty, too.”

“And how is my cousin? Still as contrary as ever?” she enquired, smile slightly more forced this time, Dickon noted.

“Aye- even more contrary than you were, Miss Mary!” he grinned, that special lopsided grin that made Mary’s heart melt.

“Enough with the Miss, please, Dickon. I think we have known each other long enough for you to call me Mary!” she laughed.

“Aye, that we have, Mary, that we have.” Said Dickon.

A comfortable silence settled on the carriage for a few moments, before Dickon broke it.

"Mi- Mary..." he said uncertainly.

Mary looked at him with a small, secret smile on her face.

"Yes, Dickon?"

"Do you remember when you came home 3 years ago?"

"Yes, Dickon."
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