Chapter Seven
Dickon felt the first cool drops of water fall from the Heavens as he completed his work for the evening. The garden was in fine array with full blossoms turning their thirsting faces to the sky to bathe in rainwater. Dickon, not wanting to join them in their evening bathe, pulled his brown woolen jacket on and put away his gardening tools. It would be a long walk to his cottage and starting home now might prevent him from being doused.
Stepping out of the garden, Dickon turned and locked the door. A branch rustled to his right, and when he turned to see which animal might have come to accompany him on his walk, he saw Mary Lennox standing before him.
"Lass! What is thee doin' out in this rain? Tha'd best get back to tha house—"
"I was concerned about you getting home safely and wanted to offer you my horse for the journey," she said, stepping closer to him and under an overhanging branch.
"That's very kind of thee," Dickon said. "But tha'd best get inside before you catch your death."
"Are you going home straightaway or would you maybe…like to come inside for some tea? I can make it myself."
Dickon watched her carefully and weighed his options. Surely the house would be dark and quiet and his presence might seem inappropriate or even an intrusion. Mary should have stayed inside where it was dry and warm, but here she was, offering her horse for his journey and a cup of tea to keep him warm for his travel.
"I don't think it'd be right, coming inside at this hour without Lord Craven or Mrs. Medlock to permit me," he said carefully.
Mary looked down at her feet. "I suppose it isn't like when we were children, is it? I can't even invite you for tea."
"It's not that, lass," Dickon said quietly. Rain drops fell heavy upon them and he quickly pulled Mary over into the shelter of the doorway. Thick ivy still grew in tendrils all around it, shielding them from the elements. They stood together for a moment in the darkness, not speaking. Dickon took the opportunity to look down at her and admire her soft milky skin and rose red lips. She had grown into a fine young woman.
"What is it, then?" she asked, turning her face to him.
It was all Dickon could do not to kiss her – it was almost as if she were asking him to. He fought with himself, knowing all of the reasons why he shouldn't do it, why they could never be together. And still, deep inside there spoke a small voice which urged him to take her in his arms and break the silent barrier between them. She would know then that he loved her, not as a friend but as the cultured, educated and beautiful woman she'd become.
"It's…" his voice trailed off. Her eyes help such a pleading look, he knew he would be lost if did not regain control of himself. With great effort, he broke from her wide-eyed stare. "It's…" There were no words, no reason to tell. He couldn't remember anymore.
"Dickon," she began.
"Mary," he said resignedly, "I need to tell thee something, but I'm afraid."
"What is it?" Her voice was soothing and gentle.
"I have been thinking of this for a time now and there's never been a moment to speak with thee without someone else hovering about. I fear it may cause you to be vexed with me but I cana keep it from thee any longer." The words flowed from his lips, hesitant words filled with the feeing that he might be destroying everything between them. If Mary did not love him, he would look a fool to have poured out his soul. But no, his mother had taught him to be candid and search his own heart. It would not lead him astray. He hadn't been wrong about Mary at the start, and now should be no different. So he forged ahead, speaking the words that could either join them or divide them forever.
"Tell me, Dickon," she said, leaning into him as she had that day on the doorstep of the manor.
He closed his eyes and took a breath. "I have…feelings for thee - very strong feelings that run deeper than kinship." He waited. The words hung in the air between them but he felt Mary push closer to him as he said them. "I know I dare not think tha would share those feelings, Mary, I don't expect it from thee. I had to tell thee before my heart burst from holding it back for so long."
Silence.
Mary had made no declaration. She stood perfectly still against him for a space, then turned her face to him. He gazed into her eyes, and then reached up to caress her cheek. When she did not pull away, he leaned toward her to touch her lips with the sweetest, softest of kisses. Her lips were cool, like the night, and moistened with the mist of the rains. When he pulled away to look at her again, her eyes were still closed and look of pure contentment graced her countenance.
"Dickon," she said at length.
"I love thee, Mary."
"I love you, too. I always have."
Wrapping his arms about her as he had done only in his dreams, Dickon allowed himself to push away every thought but those of Mary Lennox. These thoughts moved from facing Lord Craven, asking for Mary's hand, their wedding, their happiness. There would be the matter of gaining permission and this was a source of worry, but Dickon forced it away. Right now all he wanted to think about was his beloved.
He twined his hands through her hair, and then held her face in his hands. She smiled at him so lovingly; he could not help but bend to take her mouth once more. This kiss lingered. It was a certain kiss: certain of its love and future, certain that it would be the first of many to come. When this second kiss ended, Dickon pulled the garden key from his pocket.
"Will you come into the garden with me? There's something I need to ask you there."
"Of course," she replied.
With that, Dickon opened the door and guided Mary to the center of the garden. There he knelt on one knee and took her hand. The rain had dispersed into a mist for the time being, causing the garden to be shrouded in a peaceful blanket of quiet.
"I know I am from poor folk, living on the moors and not of noble blood or any kind of station, but I love thee and have since I first met thee so long ago. I love thee with all my heart and soul and though I have no ring to offer…no grand jewels or manor house, I offer myself to thee if tha will have me. I will love thee always, Mary Lennox."
Dickon saw a tear appear in her eye and he moved to stand but Mary gently placed her free hand on his shoulder.
"Yes," she said. "Oh Dickon, I wouldn't care if you had not a penny to your name. It's you I love, not what you own. And if we should over in a tiny cottage all of our days, I couldn't be a more happy woman just to be yours."
Dickon beamed with pride and pleasure at this, then stood and held Mary tightly. She smiled and laughed into his embrace, being silenced only when his mouth came in contact with hers for a third time. Again, it was different from the ones before. This kiss seared; Dickon pressed his lips to hers so hotly he thought he might burn away. His body began to respond to the softness pressing so tightly against him and as always, he allowed nature to be his guide. Deepening the kiss, Dickon tentatively and gently parted his lips and with the tip of his tongue sought entrance to the warmth of Mary's mouth. Her hands gripped his arms tightly as she welcomed him, emitting a soft moan from her throat which served to heighten his arousal. How he wanted to be part of her then! His carnal urges could think only of removing their clothing, laying down in the grass and flowers and becoming one. He would have to wait – but he did not want to.
Mary responded to his kiss and his touch, opening for him, sliding her tongue along his, pulling him ever closer. Dickon kissed her face, then her neck. At this, Mary moaned in such a way as to cause a fire to blaze within him. He wanted to keep going…keep going…don't stop…
Through the sensual haze, he heard her speak in a soft whisper against his hair.
"Don't stop, Dickon…please don't stop…"
He was a bit taken aback. Did she want…? No, he could not do that until they were married. Every cell in his body cried out for release, but he would not take her outside of a union before God. It had to be done properly. He could not deny that hearing her say it was intoxicating, and surmised that her feelings must be as strong as his to have been articulated. Perhaps she wanted him – stories of how women dreaded the sex act had caused the idea to become commonplace in society and expected. He hadn't thought that she would want him as earnestly as he wanted her and at the same base level. During the war, he'd listened to some of the tales his compatriots told about their escapades with ladies of the evening. No one seemed to have a word to say about wives if they had them. It seemed those women who wed found relations distasteful while women who were of easy virtue enjoyed it. Or perhaps, Dickon once thought, it was the money they thought of which made them appear so enthusiastic.
"We can't," he said, pulling away. "We mun be married first."
"Then I want to marry you right this instant!" she replied breathlessly, reaching for him again.
He took her hands in his. "We will be."
"It will take so long – you have to ask Uncle Archie…oh how I dread telling Mrs. Medlock, I know she will be baubles and bells over it!"
Dickon laughed. "I reckon she will not be pleased – if Lord Craven allows it."
"If?"
"I have nothing, Mary…"
"You are my choice. He must consent. Don't worry; I will talk to him if he should dare withhold his blessing." She smiled warmly. "Nothing can keep me from you. Not now, after I've waited so long."
Daybreak found Martha up in Mary's chamber, eagerly leaning over the table to hear the full account of Mary's evening adventure. Mary was not about to tell her friend everything, but allowed small details just to appease the young lady. Martha's eyes shone with excitement and she took turns sighing and exclaiming alternately, "Oh my!" and "Ahhh!"
"He asked me to marry him, Martha. We shall be sisters!" Mary beamed.
"Oh, Miss Mary! It is too much good news to bear!" Martha dabbed at her eyes with her kerchief. "I knew it mun be so – the pair of you are too well suited."
"Yes, but now it is a matter of Uncle Archie granting permission. No one knows yet, so please keep it a secret."
"What happened after he asked you?" Martha inquired excitedly.
"He asked in the garden; he had to go back to the cottage and let me give him my horse. I insisted, you know. He can be stubborn, wanting to do things on his own. He walked me back to the house and saw me safely inside, and then he journeyed home. I expect he will be on the grounds this morning. Oh Martha! I confess I could not sleep a wink last night!"
"Ahh who would expect thee to? 'Tis so exciting! You mun eat your breakfast, though. Are you coming down soon?"
"I will. You go on ahead."
Martha left the room with a smile fixed on her face. Mary was sure she'd see that smile throughout the day; such was Martha's joy at the news. With the dawn came practicalities that Mary did not want to admit: Colin – would he be upset or angry? Mrs. Medlock – would she advise that theirs was not a proper match? Uncle Archie, who'd barely spoken to her since he'd returned – would he think her choice unwise?
Mary had to face only one of those people on her way to breakfast and it was the one person she most wanted to avoid. Colin.
"Cousin Mary," he said energetically. "Good morning!"
"Good morning, Colin," she replied as warmly as she could.
"You look upset; what's troubling you?"
"Not a thing; I don't know what you mean. I had a bit of trouble sleeping due to the rains, but I am well now." She noticed Colin was dressed for riding. "Where are you off to today?"
"Just a short ride; upon my return I wondered if you would like to come to Harrogate with Father and me – he says he is upset that he's been neglecting us and so we're off for a nice day out," he said.
Mary walked with him down the grand staircase, wanting to accept his offer but knowing that in doing so she would be giving up time to spend with Dickon. "Is no one else coming to Harrogate, Colin?" she asked.
"Who else should come?" he asks somewhat suspiciously.
"I hadn't meant to invite anyone unintended; it was mere curiosity. I should like to accompany you both – I've hardly had time to spend with you and Uncle Archie. I – have something I need to do first. I must find out if the trip would be feasible today. I'd made promises—"
"Of course, I understand," he said cordially. "There is always tomorrow, though I am not sure what Father's plans are. He is always so busy."
"Yes, yes, I know," she said wistfully.
Colin acted so kindly to her that Mary almost forgot she'd found him irritating only hours earlier. They breakfasted and Colin went out to the stables while Mary made her familiar jaunt to the garden. Dickon was within, tending a flowerbed. She stood and watched him for a few moments, enjoying the way he so carefully and gently worked the earth.
"Good morning," she said as a bird twittered in a nearby tree.
"Mary!" Dickon rose and came to her, pulling her in a warm embrace.
"Careful now, they might see!" she said, pulling back but smiling broadly.
"Why shouldn't 'they'?" he asked.
"Oh you know how Colin would be…and the others. I—I've told Martha, though. I hope that's all right."
"Mary, tell who you want, I am not ashamed of loving thee."
"No, it's not shame, it's…I don't want them to spoil how I feel right now."
"How does tha feel right now?" he asked mischievously.
Her jaw dropped and she wagged a finger at him half heartedly. "I'm happy. Truly, truly happy."
Dickon returned her smile and bent over her for a kiss, but the rustle of leaves in the direction of the door made the lovers spring apart as if they had touched hot coals. Colin appeared in the doorway and walked down toward them.
"Mary, Father says we must leave in two minutes. He's waiting in the carriage," he said, eyeing his two friends.
"Just a moment, Colin," she said and turned to Dickon. "They're going to Harrogate…I wasn't sure if I should—"
"Tha should go; it's good to see new things. Tell me all about it when tha returns," Dickon said encouragingly. For a moment, Mary worried that he was pushing her away. "Don't worry about me, Mary, I have much work to do here and I mun help Ben with his new project. Medlock's been after 'im with that new man of 'ers to carve up the bushes."
"Are you sure you don't need me here?" she asked somewhat hopefully. She wanted to be wanted, but knew Dickon would not hold her back. If it had been any other time, she would have been more than eager to join her uncle and cousin, but today felt special because of what has transpired the night before. All she wanted to do was sit in the garden and watch over Dickon.
"Go on," he said. "Enjoy thysel'. I will be here when thee returns home."
Mary reluctantly left him and joined Colin.
"What's the matter, Cousin?" asked Colin. "You don't seem quite yourself today."
"No, I suppose I don't," she replied as they approached the carriage waiting in the courtyard.
"Something wrong?" he prodded.
"No," she said, allowing Colin to help her up into her seat. "Just something missing." Or someIone/I, she thought.