Mary

Mary opened her eyes and for a moment she could not recall what she was to attribute the great excitement to. She looked about herself and realized that sun had been high above the roof of the Lovington Manor already.

William, shot through her mind. Of course! Darling William was returning home, even if just for a short visit. Mary pushed the bedcovers off and jumped out of bed. "Mother!" she yelled in panic even though she was aware her mother could not hear her this far from her own chambers. "Mother!" she continued gasping nonetheless as she ran down the corridor, quite oblivious to the fact that she was wearing only her nightgown and that male servants might be about the wide halls of the sleeping chambers.

She forced her pace into an impatient hurried walk as she approached her mother's quarters. It would not do for her to burst in front of a frail old woman like a crazed wench with no mind for manners. Just as she was about to carefully turn the knob, the door opened and she jumped aside with a yelp.

"What in the name of the Devil are you doing, you foolish girl?" the voice of her father boomed overhead and in one quick moment she became painfully aware of her lack of garments, the messy hair, and general appearance of impropriety.

"I am sorry, Father." she whispered and felt herself blushing. "But, I was so excited about William's arrival and I was not awoken early, and..."

"Speak up, girl!" interrupted her father. "And stop babbling!" he added cruelly. "And for God's sake, put some clothes on."

"Yes, Father." Curtsied Mary, but remained standing still, hoping to be able to gain entrance to her mother's chamber.

Ambrose Percy followed his daughter's eyes towards the door, which he had closed behind him only a moment earlier. "Do not disturb your Mother, child. She is not well, again." He said and gently pushed her away and towards her own room.

"Oh?" Mary's great happiness seemed instantly tainted by concern for her mother's well being.

"She has just overtired herself with preparations for Will's return, is all." said Mary's father with a gentler voice. "She had ordered that you not be disturbed and allowed to sleep as late as you wished this morning. You shall have to be the mistress of the house tonight, I daresay."

Mary tried to keep up with her father's long strides and found herself half running like a silly child. "Perhaps I should look in on Mother..." she tried again and stopped.

"No, no..." Percy grabbed his daughter's elbow and pulled her after him gently. "There is nothing wrong with her, child. She just needs some rest, is all. You'd better wash and dress yourself," he ran his stern dark eyes over Mary's nightgown and as they paused at her bare feet, she found herself shivering somewhat in fright as well as with a slight chill that hung in the corridor. "Then you should check on the cooks and make sure Will's room is all ready for him."

Mary nodded and feeling she was ten years old again, obediently rushed to her room to do as her father had ordered. She knew William's quarters were ready for him. Cleaned to perfection with new bedding and freshly cut flowers everywhere. She made sure of that over the past week as she so eagerly awaited her brother's return from overseas. Still, there were things to do and she had been foolish enough to sleep late, although, she said quietly to herself, it had hardly been her fault that nobody came to wake her.

She stayed up very late the previous night, hoping against hope that William might not stop at an inn on his way home and spend the night. But of course, he would want to give his horse and himself rest from the long and often dangerous trip across English countryside, she chastised herself. She knew that all too well, and yet, somewhere deep in her heart she had hoped he had wanted to see her, as well as Mother and Father badly enough to ignore the offer of a warm ale and no doubt an uncomfortable bed before he arrived to Lovington Manor.

It had been good ten years since her brother left their family home for musical education on the continent where, under the guidance of master Giovanni Battista he perfected his skills as a violinist and was now a frequent guest at different courts throughout the continent.

It had pained Mary somewhat that despite the long absence from home, William had decided to spend the first few weeks of his return at the Court of King Charles, rather than rush back to the embrace of his family, which missed him very much, particularly Mary herself. Scolded by her mother for such foolishness when she dared express her disappointment earlier in the week, she decided to keep her mouth shut on the matter and simply rationalize the need for William to make his name at English court before he travelled the rest of the way to his childhood home.

Excited by the prospect of all her siblings gathering under the same roof for a reunion raised her spirits and for a few moments she almost forgot about her ailing mother, who was often weak and had spent most of her days in bed or simply sitting in the garden, soaking in the feeble warmth of the early autumn sun. There were good days of course, when she was able to read or do needlework and even attend an occasional social gathering, however, it seemed to Mary that each good day was inevitably followed by a longer period of complete rest than the one before. It pained her greatly to see her mother suffer even though in the moments of madness she sometimes wondered whether her mother's condition might have been more than simply true illness. She scolded herself fiercely each time those thoughts entered her mind and spent long hours praying for forgiveness, hoping that her mother's heart was nothing but pure, exactly like her own.

Mary returned to her chamber in the east wing of the Manor House and rather than calling upon her maid Margaret to help her with the toilette and the dress, she sat in the window, pulling her legs to her chest, just as she did when she was a young girl, her eyes searching the beautiful garden outside where she and William and her sisters have spent many happy days as children.

Silly Willie she used to call him to his great chagrin. Or, little Willie sometimes, for he was so small and delicate then, even if he was two years her senior. She remembered his eyes, dark like hers, welling up with tears when she teased him too long and then she would hug him and ask for his forgiveness, assuring him that she loved him like no other, not even her beautiful foal Bella, whom she adored and spent numerous days riding throughout her father's estate.

She remembered how soft his honey-coloured curls had felt under her fingers when she would pull them off his face in order to kiss his forehead after he had fallen and hurt himself. She remembered his small body trembling next to hers in bed when Georgina, the eldest of their sisters maliciously teased them both and threatened with a ghost who, according to her lived in the bushes at the bottom of the garden. She smiled now, thinking of the silly things they both believed, William and her, how they held each other's hands tight and with careful steps crossed the garden, brave in words but not in their hearts, determined to come to the bottom of the ghost mystery. And when the bushes shook and there was a horrific shriek, they would scream and still holding each other run back to the house, calling for their mother to come to their rescue, wondering if the howl truly came from some terrifying entity or if it had just been Georgina playing her silly games again.

Mary recalled numerous hours when she kept quiet company to William as he was practicing violin while she did needlepoint, enjoying the soft notes that his little fingers evoked out of an instrument, which rather small still seemed quite big compared to the tiny boy who tried to make it work properly.

They both cried bitter tears when Georgina and Emilia were married off to Lords from the Midlands and they were aware that their childhood was over, as they had known it. They promised each other then, on the eve of their last remaining sister Anne's departure with her new husband, that they would stay together forever, never parting ways, never losing the close friendship they had had. The promise, of course, was broken less than a year later, when at the age of twelve, William was sent to the continent for education, under the scholarship of his Grace the King, and Mary was left behind to care for their ailing mother.

She remembered the last glance that she had caught of William, his tiny body disappearing inside her father's coach with the family coat of arms on the back and it seemed to her like something big and dark had just swallowed her delicate little brother. His pale face appeared at the window in the back for a moment and she could tell he was shedding tears, just as bitter as hers, even though she tried to be brave for him and not cause him distress over his departure.

Mary cried for weeks after William had left, begging her father foolishly that William come back or perhaps she could even join him. She had known that those pleas were fruitless, if not exactly outrageous, but she could not help herself. On the day William had left Lovington manner, she felt as if something had died inside her and despite her mother's reassurances that things would be back to normal soon, she had never ceased grieving over the loss of her siblings, particularly her only brother.

"Goodness me!" A sudden cry startled Mary out of her deep thoughts and she jumped in fright. "What is wrong, child?" Margaret rushed towards Mary and before the latter could pull herself together, took her in her arms, and gently embraced her. Only then did Mary realize that her face was wet with tears and she chastised herself for her foolishness.

"Tis a happy day today, Mary." Said Margaret gently as she stepped away and gently wiped the wet cheeks with her hands. "Master William is coming home, there is no need for crying."

Mary smiled through the tears and stuttered through sobs. "I know. Oh, I know. I am just being foolish, Margaret." She said and ran her fingers through her long, unbrushed hair. "I've just been thinking of times past, when Willie was but a wee lad and we played in the garden." She said and tried hard not to start crying again, for her heart was breaking at the mere thought that William would only be at the Manor for a few days, and even before his arrival, she was dreading the moment when he would leave again. Leave her alone in a big and lonely house.

"Oh," moaned Margaret gently. "You foolish, foolish girl. You do not want William to see you have been crying, do you now? If you do not stop, there will be nothing I can do to hide your swollen eyes, Mary."

Mary nodded and pointed towards the dress, which was carefully laid out on the chair next to her bed. "I have finished the dress last night." She said, grateful that the faithful maid's attention was away from her face for a moment.

"Yes, and tis a beautiful dress, too, Mary. You've outdone yourself this time, I have to say." Said Margaret admiringly and walked towards the dress, running her hands above the material, not touching it as if afraid she might ruin it if she did so. "At first," Margaret looked towards her charge with guilt in her eyes, "I thought black might be too harsh, you see." She said and smiled. "But then, when you've slashed the sleeves with red, well..." Margaret looked at the dress admiringly again. "Tis beautiful."

Mary beamed. "Look!" she pointed and took the delicate silk in her hands. "I've slashed the back and the front of the dress skirts, Margaret, and padded it with red. Is it not grand?"

"A clever girl, you are, Mary." Said Margaret approvingly and finally touched her fingertips against the delicate material. "Someday, you will make a fine wife..." she stopped in the middle of the sentence and closed her eyes in frustration. How foolish of her to be bringing up the subject of marriage to Mary, when there were no courtiers to be seen any more. At nearly twenty-four Mary was the last of the Percy daughters to remain unmarried and the prospects were dim. Margaret knew all to well of Mary's fears that her father might marry her off to someone she had never seen, someone with money and perhaps a good name, yet she was also aware that the romantic little soul of Mary's could not stand being given away to an old man who cared nothing for her, rather lusted over her father's estates and connections, which Ambrose Percy's position at court would inevitably bring.

Mary frowned as if trying to push away a nasty thought and quick as silver, Margaret changed the subject. "Never mind that now, child. William is coming home and all is well with the world. Come now," she skipped around Mary as if she was a young girl and not a tired old woman of fifty with arthritic fingers and bad back. "We have to wash you up, my Lady and put this beautiful dress on. Master William could be knocking on the door at any moment." She said and quietly felt relieved when she realized Mary's face cleared with happiness over the thought her brother's arrival.

"That's better, now." She said and firmly led Mary in front of the big mirror at the toilette table. "What shall we do with your hair today?" she asked and gently caressed beautiful black mane of her mistress.

"Leave it lose over my back, I think." Said Mary and turned her head this way and that. "Perhaps you could weave in some red little flowers to match the dress, Margaret." Said Mary.

"Flowers, Mary? But they will not last long enough, I daresay. You do know, your father is taking you and William to a dance tonight, do you not?"

"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Mary. "Lord Northumberland is throwing a party for William." She said and beamed. "I made little red flowers from the silk that I had left over, Margaret." She said proudly and pointed to the small basket on the table, which Margaret had failed to notice earlier.

"Oh, my." Whispered Margaret. "They are beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. So delicate."

She wanted to tell how stunning Mary would look in her new dress, with her smooth, long hair covering her back all the way to the waist, specked with little red flowers. Yet, she knew better than to tread down that path. Mary, although attractive, was not a beautiful woman. Tall and slim, she lacked the curves that her sisters were gifted with. Mary's kind face did not have the beauty of her sister Georgina and the art of flirtation was foreign to her, despite having watched Anne and Emilia break young hearts with their playful coquettishness when they were still living at the Manor.

"I think you will look grand, Mary." Said Margaret. "I really do. Now come, we've work to do, you and I."

Mary smiled and was quietly grateful for Margaret's kindness. She was only too aware of how other people saw her. Tall and awkward, painfully shy and perhaps even slightly simple. She had found that kindness is often exploited in people and lack of a sharp tongue understood as a sign of simplicity. She cared not. Today, she cared not at all. William was coming home and all was well with the world.

* * *

It was in the early afternoon when finally Mary heard her father's excited voice calling to her to come down and greet her brother. "Mary! Mary!" he yelled before he opened the door and rushed out to meet the coach, which had just pulled up in the courtyard.

Mary stood at the window on the second floor, dressed in her black and red dress, hair brushed for so long until it looked and felt like the silk of her dress, dotted with delicate red flowers that she had spent hours making with a painstaking precision. Her heart thundered in her chest and all she wanted was to run downstairs and straight into her brother's arms, yet she could not move. She simply stood by the window, observing the small door of the coach open and a tall, dark man step out, greeting her father with a tight embrace. The two men spoke for a while and Mary fidgeted impatiently, waiting for William to appear. She pictured him to be exactly like he had been; small in stature, with light coloured, curly hair, perhaps even slightly nervous, like a delicate bird looking out for danger. She also wondered whom this stranger talking to her father in such a familiar way was. Probably someone from Court, she reasoned. From time to time Ambrose Percy would invite one of the King's men to join them for dinner, when their way led them all the way to the north of England. Even her own father was more of a visitor to their Manor than a constant resident. Duties at Court demanded most of his time and when he did have a day or two off, it was not enough to even make it back north, let alone spend some time there.

Mary often wondered whether her mother's condition had anything to do with her husband's constant absence from the household. She must have been so very lonely sometimes, especially after the children were gone and only Mary remained to keep her company. Mary shuddered to think what would happen if she indeed was to be married off as she often feared.

No time for such thoughts, she scorned herself. William is here!

The dark stranger lifted his eyes and searched the house from the outside. His glance seemed to pause on Mary and to her astonishment he waved at her and smiled. She took a step away from the window, surprised and somewhat taken aback. Thoughts whirled around her head, a great number of them, and she felt herself blushing. The man was handsome indeed and her foolish little heart had let her know it.

Who was this man? Could it be her brother's tutor, the great Giovanni Battista? Surely not. The man continued waving and smiling at her and she gathered courage to wave back, although still puzzled as how he had come to know her.

Impatient and slightly annoyed over her brother's unwillingness to step out of the coach, she tapped her foot against the wooden floors. "Lady Mary?" she heard a voice behind her and spun around with a whimper. Norbert, father's faithful servant at court who always came to extend his duties at their Manor whenever father returned stood behind her and smiled gently.

"Oh," she sighed in relief. "You gave me a fright there, Norbert." She said and almost curtsied. Only at the last moment she caught herself and remained still. There would be no explaining such mistake, should she be foolish enough to make it.

"I apologize for that, I meant no harm." He said and the smile on his face grew wider as he looked out the window, following Mary's gaze. "Will you not go to see your brother? You have been so impatient these past few days, and now that he has finally arrived, you stand here, almost unwilling to greet him."

"Of course I will," she smiled awkwardly. "But where..." she asked and to her great amazement, she noticed that the coach was pulling away, a large chest sitting between her father and the dark man, and no other person in sight.

"Oh, my Lord..." she whispered softly. She opened her eyes wider as if that would help her see better, knowing that her eyes were not deceiving her. "It cannot be. Surely, it cannot be." She said as she realized her mistake.

"Yes," Norbert's gentle voice encouraged her. "He has changed, has he not? He is not a little boy you last saw, Lady Mary." Mary felt a pang of jealousy. Of course, her father had been to Italy a few times over the past ten years and he had seen her brother change. So, has Norbert. To her mother's great chagrin, Norbert seemed to be more of a companion to her father than she had ever been, at least since Mary could remember. Perhaps there were happy times for her mother when she first married her father, although she never discussed her past with Mary.

"Come, my Lady," said Norbert gently. "Let us go and greet your brother. He must be exhausted after the long trip and there is a party you are to attend tonight. Let us make him comfortable. It has been a long time since he had been here last."