(no subject)

[a_poor_guardian]

The master of Misselthwaite Manor is sitting in his study, reviewing some matters of business.

Comments

[mistressmaryquitecontrary]

Mary's footsteps are audibly stiff as she marches up to his room and knocks loudly on the door.

[a_poor_guardian]

Only one person in the manor knocks like that, especially without prior invitation. "Come in, child," says Archibald, rising to greet Mary when she enters.

[mistressmaryquitecontrary]

The door flies open and slams into a wall.

"I have something for you," Mary states, and stomps over to Archibald to shove the letter into his hand.

[a_poor_guardian]

Archibald closes his fingers reflexively around the envelope. He has, by this time, gathered that rage covers a multitude of emotions for Mary, so instead of chiding her for her body language he says only, "Whatever is the matter, my dear?"

[mistressmaryquitecontrary]

"Lucy left."

Mary's head is high. "You did not like her; you will not care about that. But she gave me the letter to give to you. So I have."

[a_poor_guardian]

Archibald could have liked Lucy well enough for herself. He was furious with her only because she had made Mary love her, and because Mary was going to be hurt.

Mary has been hurt.

"Mary," says Archibald, "Will you sit and wait, while I read the letter, and then talk to me after?"

[mistressmaryquitecontrary]

Mary's head inclines, in a stiff nod.

It is not, after all, as if she has anywhere better to be.

(Except the garden, of course - always the garden. But the garden will be there waiting.)

[a_poor_guardian]

Archibald stands by his desk, turned away from Mary, while he opens the envelope and removes the paper. When he reaches the end of the letter, a muscle in his jaw twitches. He replaces the letter in the envelope, careful not to disturb the ring.

Archibald pulls a keyring from the pocket of his coat. Selecting a key, he unlocks a drawer of his desk and locks the envelope and its contents inside.

All of that was necessary business. The difficult part for Archibald begins now. He sits down on an armchair on one side of the fireplace and gestures, silently offering the other chair to Mary.

"Mary," he says, when they are both seated, "will you do me the honor of telling me about your friend Lucy?"

[mistressmaryquitecontrary]

Mary stares at him.

She had not expected this, and it's quite clear on her face.

She's not sure she wants it. What she wants is not to think about Lucy at all; to go and do something else, with all her energy and attention, or at least as much of it as she can give.



"What do you want to know?"

It's not a promise to speak.

[a_poor_guardian]

"I want--" Archibald rehearsed that first sentence. He had it clear in his mind before he ever sat down. The second, and the third, and every sentence after, will require improvisation. "I would like you to tell me the important things about her. I only met her once, you know. Because you cared -- care -- about her, perhaps you know more about her than I do."

[mistressmaryquitecontrary]

"Why?"

Mary folds her arms tightly in front of her.

"You shall never meet her. She is gone. Why do you need to know anything about her?"

[a_poor_guardian]

"I would like to know because I am curious--" Archibald breaks off there, because what he was about to say, while true, was not particularly useful, and because he did read Lucy's letter, and because he knows why he needs to ask about Lucy.

He speaks quickly, because if he does not, he will not be able to say this much at all.

"Because she loved you, Mary, and because I love you too and I am trying to learn how."

[mistressmaryquitecontrary]

"How -"

Mary breaks off, staring at Archibald; this conversation is providing more and more shocks, and the easy responses are no longer there.

(The easy answer: If you did, you would already know. But that, Mary knows far too well, is hypocritical.

Another easy answer: Don't leave. But it's not a true answer.)

"She wanted me," she bursts out, eventually, "to be a Lioness."

[a_poor_guardian]

The answer silences Archibald for a time.

Of course Mary fights, and of course she is strongest when she is angry; Archibald has had a year to begin to know Mary, and he has learned that much. But he can't yet think of her contrariness and her anger as virtues to be tended.

Archibald likes his ward best, or he thinks he does, when she is kneeling in the garden, speaking gently to the roses and encouraging them to grow, or convincing the robin that his eggs are safe in her territory. He thinks of her as a gentle child, like a little bird herself, but--

She wanted Mary to be a Lioness.

"Do you," he says at last, with difficulty, "want to be a Lioness?"

[mistressmaryquitecontrary]

"Oh yes," Mary says, and then "yes" again, because that at least she knows.

She's angry at Lucy. She hasn't yet forgiven her, not really. But that doesn't change the essentials.

[a_poor_guardian]

Archibald Craven loves his ward Mary so much that he has pushed past a lifetime of repression long enough to say it, once.

(It will be a long time before he has the courage to say it again.)

Even so, he is realizing that he hardly knows Mary at all.

"Tell me, Mary," he says, "what it is to be a lioness."

[mistressmaryquitecontrary]

"It is to be brave," Mary says, without hesitation, "and strong - to be able to protect oneself and to protect others. And to be able to take care of oneself. And to be golden, too, to be Light - and good. To be good."

It's the last part, Mary feels, that's least likely.

"And to love things, too. I think that is part of it too - but it is confusing sometimes."

[a_poor_guardian]

That is a large ambition indeed, for a small girl, and one that Archibald feels is out of his own reach. He knows how cowardly he is, and how weak; and how poorly he can protect his children from the dangers of the world.

Archibald's no lion. What will he do with this Lioness?

He pushes himself up from his armchair and looks at Mary, and looks at her, and looks at her.

"Oh, Mary," says Archibald, "My fine, brave child."

[mistressmaryquitecontrary]

Mary stands, awkwardly, unsure of how to respond.

"I am brave," she says, finally, "because I am not frightened of things, I suppose.

"I do not know about the rest of it. But it is a start."