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By the time Mary cleared her head of the excited and busy thoughts from the day, a deep quiet had settled over Misselthwaite Manor and the moors beyond her windows. Eventually, a deep sleep unburdened by dreams fell upon her. It seemed only moments before the busy sounds of morning woke her, as the sun was shining bright and new through her window. Martha was, as usual, kneeling on the hearth preparing the fire. Mary yawned loudly.
“Had a good sleep, did tha’? Colin’s been up near an hour, now,” Martha said, sitting back on her heels. “Poor boy, he’s beside himself wi’ excitement. I ‘spect he’s got a bit o’ a shine for the new gov’ness.” She winked mischievously.
“What are you talking about?” Mary asked. She had never heard this curious expression before.
“It means he thinks she’s pretty,” Martha replied, smiling broadly.
“Well, she is,” Mary said simply.
Martha shook her head.
“Tha’ hasn’t much knowin’ to thee. I wonder at thee ev’ry day, I do.” Martha went back to her duties at the hearth.
Mary slid from bed, her feet padding quickly across the cool floorboards. With a practiced tug, she pulled open the heavy carved doors of her wardrobe.
“What should I wear today?” Mary studied her dresses carefully. Martha stood up and stretched as the fire crackled to life.
“Miss Edmonds said somethin’ of you an’ Colin takin’ her to the garden. If that’s so, tha’ shouldn’t dress in tha’ best.” Martha began tidying the bed, tugging there, smoothing here, and fluffing the pillows.
“You talked with Miss Edmonds already today?” Mary selected a dress she often wore to the garden: a plain, sensible affair with heavy skirts that padded her knees when she knelt down to weed.
“Aye. She was up nearly at the crack o’ dawn, poor lass. I think she’s got a bit o’ nerves about her new position, but I dare say she’ll do just fine. She seems to be a real nice lass, she does,” Martha said, watching Mary pull her dress on.
She found it hard to believe how far the girl had come since her arrival a year ago. When she had first arrived, Mary could not do a thing for herself because she had been waited on so completely in India. She could not even dress herself. She had been sour and withdrawn; ever so spoiled by Native servants, she felt and acted as if the whole world existed just for her. Martha suspected Mary would always be a bit headstrong, but was quite pleased at how she had blossomed in both body and spirit within the past months.
“Here, let me get those buttons in back.” Martha fastened the long line of little black buttons that ran up the back of the Mary’s dress. “Now get tha’ stockings and shoes on and eat tha’ porridge while I tell Miss Edmonds you’ll be ready in a bit.”
Before long, Mary and Colin each had a tight hold on a hand of their new governess and were leading her down the ivy-walled paths, through green gates and quiet trees, to their own special garden.
Along the way, they met Ben Weatherstaff raking a flowerbed alive with small green sprouts and promising buds. A few small birds with deep black feathers, which sparked in the sunlight, watched the freshly cleared ground with tiny yellow eyes. They hopped on the branches of a nearby shrub excitedly, flitting their wings with impatience.
“Ben!” Mary shouted with joy.
The old gardener had been one of her first friends at Misselthwaite Manor. Although he would never admit it, Ben greatly enjoyed the young girl’s company and was pleased as he had watched her grow from a sour little woman to a healthy smiling girl this last year.
“Well, it be th’ young Master and Miss.” Ben straightened up slowly and leaned on his rake. “An’ this mus’ be th’ new gov’ness.” Ben tipped his dusty hat at Miss Edmonds, who smiled warmly in response.
“Ben, this is Miss Edmonds, and Miss Edmonds, this is Ben Weatherstaff, our gardener.” Mary, in her statement, made Ben sound as if he were the children’s personal gardener. In a way he was, as he had been the only one to work in the garden besides the children, and had enjoyed many a day spent with them in their special place.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Weatherstaff.” Jane nodded and smiled at the old man. “The grounds are beautiful. You do quite a job.”
Mary and Colin were astounded to see a slight blush spread over Ben’s wrinkled cheeks.
“I does my best, I do.” Ben straightened up and puffed out his chest just a bit, not unlike their friend the robin.
“We’re going to show Miss Edmonds the garden!” Colin proudly announced. “See you later!” He began to pull the governess away.
“Good-bye, Mr. Weatherstaff,” Miss Edmonds laughed over her shoulder, as her young companions tugged her down the path, leaving Ben to his work.
When they reached the doorway of the Secret Garden, hidden by its curtain of ivy, Mary removed the key from her pocket.
“It was a neglected wild tangle when I found it,” Mary told the governess. “It had been locked up for ten years, and only Ben sneaked in once in a while to trim a little and visit it. Since I found it, Colin, Dickon, and I have brought it back to life.” Mary opened the door with a proud flourish. “Welcome to the Secret Garden, Miss Edmonds.”
Mary and Colin skipped ahead into the welcoming beauty of the garden as their governess carefully looked around her. High walls were covered in a blanket of rose vines, gently rustling in the breeze. They almost seemed to wave a careful greeting to the new arrival. Paths of grass, thick and full like strips of plush carpet, wandered between crowded, yet tidy flowerbeds. Evergreens nestled in corners with mossy benches and flower urns tucked cozily amongst them. Fruit trees rose from here and there. Bushes of different kinds were scattered around. Miss Edmonds felt as if she had indeed stepped into a magical place.
“It’s wonderful,” she whispered as her eyes took it all in.
Colin and Mary exchanged happy looks.
“You take care of all this yourselves?” The governess caressed a budding rose.
“Yes. Father gave us this garden Mary, really, because he wants it loved even though he can’t bear to come here very often.”
“Why not?” Miss Edmonds gracefully sat down on the soft, cool grass. The children joined her.
“This was my mother’s garden and she died because she fell from a tree here. He can’t stand to come here too often because it reminds him of her,” Colin stated, as if it were of no consequence.
“Well, I can’t say I blame him. That must have been very hard for him.” Miss Edmonds paused, wondering what to say next. “You must miss your mother very much.”
“I never knew her. But Father misses her very much.” Colin leaned back, tucking his arms behind his head and breathing deeply. “I love spring. Winter’s so dreary and dull.” He let the fresh breeze, swept clean by the many miles of the moor, fill his lungs. The sweet smell of fresh flowers, rich earth, and the light smell of honey from the heather, made his lips curl with boundless pleasure.
Jane tipped her head to the sky and took a deep breath. “Back home we had a small garden behind Westing Hall, my home. It was nothing like this, of course, but I used to love to sit and read for hours among the flowers. Mother would always have a fresh bouquet on the kitchen table of whatever was in bloom.”
“Perhaps we can have some of our classes outside while the weather is good,” Mary suggested hopefully.
“Yes! An outside classroom!” Colin sat up, his face alight with pleasure.
“Perhaps we can from time to time. However, I don’t want too many distractions. I am here to teach you, after all.” Miss Edmonds liked the idea of a garden classroom, but she didn’t want the children thinking she was here for just fun and games. She had to prove herself a capable teacher or Mr. Craven might look for another governess.
At that moment, a joyful twittering of song broke out from a nearby tree.
“It’s the robin! He’s come to welcome Miss Edmonds!” Mary hopped up and trotted happily over to a short tree where the robin bobbed gently on a branch. “Hello, Mr. Robin. What are you about today?”
The robin tipped his small head and watcher her intently with a tiny black eye.
The robin could not understand her but felt her pleasure at his arrival and was pleased. Curiosity made him stay on his branch and watch them.
“You have a pet robin?” Miss Edmonds raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“Yes, well of a sort. Ben Weatherstaff made friends with him when he was a fledgling and introduced us. He started to follow me about and sing for me. It was because of the robin I found the key to the garden and the door to get in.” Mary smiled at her small, feathered friend. “He had a family in the garden last year. I hope he has another this year.”
“Well, a robin is certainly an odd friend to have, but ‘wherever friendship is found it should be welcomed,’ as my mother used to say.” Miss Edmonds was studying the robin, who seemed to be flirting with her from the branch. He flitted quickly from left to right, fluffing his wings importantly and nodding his little head.
“What’s your mother like?” asked Colin. “Is she waiting back at your home for you?”
Miss Edmonds paused and considered. “She moved in with my aunt, her sister, when I left to take this position. Mother has rheumatism quite badly, and without father around to help her, things have become difficult. She is a kind, gentle woman, and very clever. She taught me how to read, and she sings while she cooks. She had an answer for everything and a smile for everyone.”
“My Ayah used to tell me stories to keep me quiet. When I would fuss she would stroke my hand and sing me to sleep.” Mary’s voice was matter of fact, not at all soft or happy like Miss Edmonds when she spoke of her mother.
“Your Ayah sounds like a very kind woman,” Miss Edmonds said.
“She died when my parents did. She was a servant anyway.” Mary left the robin to preen himself and returned to her place on the lawn.
“But surely you must miss her.” Miss Edmonds again wondered about this child’s history, and her lack of compassion for anyone in it.
“I do not.” Mary pinched her lips together as she always did when feeling vexed. “I do not wish to speak of them so I will not,” she stated.
In truth, Mary did miss her Ayah. She was the only person who had seemed to care at all about Mary, but when Mary thought about her, she felt bad. Mary did not want to feel bad, so she decided not to think about anything from her past. She would concern herself with the garden and her new tutor and Dickon and everything here at Misselthwaite which was the only place she had every been happy.
Miss Edmonds saw she had touched on something better left alone for the time being. She also began to think she needed to know more about her young charges. Perhaps Martha would be of some help. She decided to ask some careful questions of the young maid when a chance presented itself. For now, she changed the subject.
“Do you ever have picnics in the garden?” Miss Edmonds asked.
“All the time,” Colin replied. “When I was getting over being an invalid, we ate food Dickon would bring every day. We ate thick slices of bread with jam and clotted cream, and big cooked potatoes,” Colin said, smiling at the memory. “Would you like to have one? A picnic, that is.”
“I think that would be a wonderful idea. At home, our garden was right behind the kitchen, and in the summer when the weather was warm, I would open the kitchen door and eat my meals on the doorstep with the fresh air swirling around me.” Miss Edmonds tipped her head back and breathed deeply, as if remembering all those past summers in one full breath.
“Why didn’t you just go outside?” Colin asked.
“Because I was caring for my mother who was very ill. I didn’t want to be too far away in case she called.”
“I used to be an invalid.” Colin said it as if it were the most normal thing in the world for a young boy to be an invalid.
“Were you ill?” Miss Edmonds wondered if both children were a bit beyond the ordinary.
“I thought I was going to die or be a hunchback like my father because everyone always said I would, but Mary and Dickon made me want to live, so I did.”
Miss Edmonds didn’t know what to say. Was everyone here a bit odd?
The rest of the afternoon was spent in quiet pleasure amongst the green beauty of the Secret Garden. By tea time, the three were fast friends. They had easily convinced her to play blind man’s bluff and twenty questions. Miss Edmonds was pleased to discover her new charges were two young people both bright in mind and spirit who seemed to yearn for the knowledge she could impart to them.
By the time the large clock in the courtyard struck the evening hour, everyone was pleasantly tired and quite ready for their afternoon refreshments. It was desired, mostly by Colin but eagerly seconded by Mary, that the trio would have tea together before letting the new tutor retire to her rooms.
“Oh, lemon tea cakes!” Mary exclaimed as they sat down to tea in the library. “I love these. We never had them in India, and Cook makes them so rich and sweet.” Mary took a healthy bite of a small, round cake as Miss Edmonds poured the tea for them.
“I’m sure I’ll love them. I never find disfavor with anything sweet.” Miss Edmonds smiled as she added cream to her tea and, the children noticed, a generous amount of sugar. “You have a very fine library here,” Miss Edmonds said, admiring the many cases lining the walls, each loaded with the fine bindings dimly glowing of leather and gold.
“I have read every fairy story and every gardening book here,” Mary said matter-of-fact. “I’m hoping Uncle gets more soon. I love to read in bed.”
“Perhaps you should try adventure stories next. I greatly enjoyed Robinson Crusoe,” Miss Edmonds said, silently pleased she had a pupil who liked to read. “Let’s see if we can find it in this grand library of yours.”
The children jumped up and happily began their search. Mary took one end, Colin the other, and Miss Edmonds began in the middle. All was nearly silent for a few moments while the trio carefully searched for the desired book. After a short while, Colin whooped triumphantly, holding the volume above his head.
“Since I found it I get to read it first,” Colin said as Mary tried to grab the book from him.
“She recommended the book to me! I should get it first!” Mary, clearly not used to being denied what she felt was her obvious right, pinched her lips together into a white line.
“I’m the Master’s son, so I get it first!” Colin, equally unused to being denied his way, clasped the book to his chest, ready for a fight.
“Children!” The sharp command broke through the impending fight like a whip. “That’s quite enough!” Both Mary and Colin jumped at the tone of Miss Edmonds’ voice. Neither child had imagined this sweet, soft-spoken woman could command such a tone of voice. Both children were suddenly reminded of Mrs. Medlock.
“Give the book to me.” Miss Edmonds held out her hand and Colin quietly surrendered the volume. Slowly a small smile crept across the tutor’s mouth. “I’m delighted to have pupils who want to read so eagerly and value my opinion so much,” she said, lowering her voice to its normal tone. “Therefore I propose a compromise. We shall read it together. Every evening at tea time, I will read a chapter to you. That way we can share the book and the pleasure of reading it.”
“That sounds quite acceptable,” Mary said. “I haven't been read to since my Ayah died. Won’t that be nice, Colin?”
Colin clearly agreed. “Oh, yes. I should like that very much. We can even act out the exciting parts.” Colin was feeling truly inspired. “There are exciting parts, aren’t there?” he asked. “You said it was an adventure story.”
“Oh yes, there are many exciting parts.” Miss Edmonds smiled at the boy’s eagerness.
“Will you begin tomorrow?” Mary asked eagerly.
“If our first day of lessons goes well,” Miss Edmonds replied.
“I thought lessons could not be started until the books Uncle Craven ordered had arrived,” Mary said.
“Before I start book lessons, I need to know what books to use, so tomorrow we will evaluate where you are presently in your skills,” Miss Edmonds replied.
“All right, then, but you must not be disappointed if we don’t measure up,” Colin said rather quietly.
Jane thought she saw a flash of worry on his face.
“I would never be disappointed in you, Colin. I’m here to teach you, and that’s what I plan to do.” Miss Edmonds smiled at his handsome young face and ruffled his hair.
