Chapter Text
Mary knew her relationship with William was…unconventional, to say the least. He was a childhood friend who had fallen for not one but two of her older sisters—and been rebuffed by both of them. And Mary had been in love with him all of her life. He didn’t seem to see her until she grew out of her awkward phase and, coincidentally, wanted to be an archaeologist more than anything in the world. William Collins was an up-and-coming archaeologist himself and sought after by several companies who wished to make the “next big discovery of the era.”
So, it was no coincidence that she decided to continue her education at Cambridge, where he was finishing up his 4-year degree. He had fostered her love of archaeology from a young age, after all. He was the one who had showed her how to “dig” for fossils in the backyard (uncovering chicken bones that her father, Mr. Bennet, had thoughtfully buried the night before). Mary worked harder than anyone else in her class—including the men. And while it was a sick irony that women weren’t allowed to graduate with full degrees from Cambridge, she held her head high when she received her “diploma for women.” Because shortly after graduating, William finally asked her out for their first official date.
Since both of them were intensely practical, they decided to get married a short two months later.
“You don’t feel as if you’re sort of a…consolation prize?”
“Lydia, that’s mean—even for you!” Kitty protested, glaring at the youngest Bennet sibling.
Lydia shrugged. “I’m just saying. It’s a little weird that he went from Jane, to Lizzie, to Mary.”
“That was years ago,” Mary said, rolling her eyes. “And now is not precisely the time to be bringing that up, since the wedding is tomorrow .”
The youngest sister raised her hands in mock surrender. “It’s your life, Mary. But I still can’t believe you’re going digging in the mud for your honeymoon.”
“Oh, Mary, you didn’t agree to that, did you?” Kitty gasped.
Mary’s face darkened slightly. She pushed her glasses up her nose (a nervous habit) and held her head high. It was easy for her, of course, being the tallest of the Bennet sisters. She took after their father in many respects, including his stature and broad shoulders. But she had a lovely, feminine figure all the same. Which she kept hidden beneath “hideous, professorial tweeds,” according to Lydia. “William is very excited about this dig. And so am I.”
Lydia shook her head. “It doesn’t sound romantic to have your wedding night in a room over a pub.”
Kitty gave Mary a sympathetic look but felt the need to shift the mood. It was Mary’s last night of freedom before she tied the knot, after all. “Come on. Let’s go dancing!” she declared, snatching a dress from the back of Mary’s closet and throwing it at her.
Mary put up a fuss, but she was actually glad of the distraction. Despite being an intensely practical person, she couldn’t help the bundle of excitement and nerves that were currently tying her stomach into knots. She needed the bitterness of the beer to remind her that marriage wasn’t supposed to be rainbows and sunshine all the time. It would be hard work. But Mary was used to rolling her sleeves up and getting her hands dirty.
Yet, she was glad to be reminded that life could be fun, too, and that she should make room for it. And so, for the rest of the night, she allowed herself to dream a little. She was marrying a man she’d loved forever, and she was determined to carve out a bit of happiness for herself in this harsh world, even if she had to dig for it with her own two hands.
—
“...along with other officials, who say that we should remain steadfast in these uncertain times. In one month, Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain will make an official address to the nation as to whether we will go to war.”
Mary reached out and switched off the radio. She hated it when William listened to the news. And she wasn’t keen on being reminded about “these uncertain times” on their wedding day.
She was keen for a change of subject. “I’ve never been to this part of Suffolk before,” Mary said as William’s car bumped along the country road.
“It’s lovely. I came out here a few times to visit my friends.”
“Oh? Which friends?” she said, putting her head in her chin and peering at him with the posture of someone who was listening intently.
He gave her a brief smirk. “No one you’ve met.”
She watched the way his dark brown eyes studied the road ahead of them. Someone once claimed they were related, with how similar they were in appearance (despite Mary’s towering height and his short stature). But despite wearing similar clothes and glasses, she could definitively state that they had no blood relatives in common. He had basically grown up with the Bennet sisters, but she didn’t think of him as an older brother, even though he was closest to Jane in age and was nearly 10 years older than Mary. She quite liked the crow’s feet around his eyes and the way he had a bit of gray in his dark, wavy hair. She reached out on instinct and ran her fingers through his hair.
He flinched. “Don’t do that unless you want us to crash!” he protested.
“Oh, you like that, do you?” she teased, doing it again.
He shifted away from her with a laugh.
“So, does this room above the inn have one bed or two?” she asked.
“Two.”
“Billy, I thought—”
“You better get used to calling me William in mixed company.”
“ William , this is our wedding night! I thought we could at least…”
He reached for her hand and held it briefly. “I know, darling. I’ll try to get us a better room tomorrow. It was all they had left.”
Mary sighed.
As consolation, he kissed the back of her hand before returning his attention to shifting gears to navigate the dirt road. “But just think of it. In an hour, we will be at the dig site, and there will be a whole wealth of new things to discover.”
She saw the spark of excitement in his eyes and felt some of that transferring to herself. This could be the experience of a lifetime, as he had been saying for weeks. Though, she wondered if she wanted something unforgettable or something…domestic. Intimate.
He pulled up to a palatial estate, where a servant approached the car and guided them to a large, seemingly endless field. It was mostly flat but punctuated with several distinct lumps in the ground. Burial sites, perhaps. But they were headed directly towards all of the activity—a suspected Viking ship that was buried in the ground. It was all very exciting, and William even outpaced her in his enthusiasm. She had to jog to catch up. But thank goodness she had thought to bring a change of clothes after the wedding. She looked exceedingly practical in her plaid siren suit and sweater.
Mr. Phillips was there to greet them and gave her a cursory nod before talking directly to William about the significance of the site.
William caught sight of two young men in the bottom of the dig site. One of the young men, who was wearing shorts and a light shirt, despite the cool weather, waved and said in a cheery voice, “If it isn’t Billy Collins!”
“Why, it’s Jim! And is that Thomas over there with his sleeves rolled up?” William replied with a wide grin on his face.
Mary realized this was likely an inside joke between them as all three men burst into laughter. It was strange that they were allowed to call him Billy while she was not. Jim and Thomas carefully navigated the wooden beams that were meant to protect the artifact, and they climbed out of the pit to greet William with a warm handshake.
“Oh, and this is my wife, Mrs. Collins,” William added.
“Please call me Mary,” she insisted. Though they were newlyweds, she wasn’t keen on being referred to with that stuffy title, like she was only there on William’s merits and not her own. She had been specifically requested by the dig’s supervisor, after all.
Still, she was too fascinated by the massive oval depression in the ground in front of them to be bothered with titles at the moment. Much of the wooden beams of the ship wouldn’t have survived the ravages of time, but the impressions were clearly there in the dirt. It was exciting to imagine what other sorts of physical treasures they could find among the wreck. She was introduced to the widowed owner of the estate, Mrs. Edith Pretty, and a middle-aged man named Basil Brown who had a rough-and-ready sort of attitude that she immediately liked.
She heard a faint click and glanced up in time to see a young man holding a camera. He was standing on the far side of the dig with his head bent down so he could peer through the viewfinder. When he lifted his head, their eyes met across the distance. She waved a hand at him, and he gave her a soft, slightly crooked smile. He had sandy blonde hair that kept falling into his eyes, and she had a moment of amusement wondering if it impeded his photography. He needed a haircut.
But she was quickly distracted when she realized the loquacious Mr. Phillips had paused for breath. Now was her chance to catch his attention.
“Sir, I wanted to say how pleased I was that you specifically asked for me to come,” she said, her heart hammering in her chest as she tried to put into words just how much this meant to her. “I know that William sent you my paper on Bosnian Lake villagers. It was awfully good of you to read it.”
Mr. Phillips regarded her with his small, slightly beady eyes. There was a long pause before he spoke in a thick Scottish accent. “Ah, yes. Very stimulating.”
She gave him a tight smile, because she had the distinct impression he had no idea what she was talking about. Still, she was determined to express her gratitude. “I hope I’ll be able to repay your faith in me.”
“I have no doubt about that,” he said with a smile.
She knew he was ready to move on and stop talking, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She was nervous. “It’s just that—I haven’t done any actual field work, so I don’t want you to think I’m more experienced than I really am.”
“Aye, you have all the key attributes.”
“Do I?” she said, and she wasn’t ashamed by her curiosity to know what those were.
“The ship is very delicate, you see. One could say that it scarcely exists at all. Too much weight and it disintegrates. You’re probably less than…nine stone, I’d say.” He gave a slight chuckle and patted his round belly. “I’ll supervise from here while you ‘light things’ get on with the dig!”
Mary’s smile faded completely. So…she had been chosen because of her stature. She tried her best not to show how disappointed she was. Mr. Phillips probably hadn’t bothered to read her papers—if William had even sent them. “Am I to understand you only asked for me because of my size?”
He chuckled again. “Lucky guess. Though you’re quite a bit taller than I’d imagined.”
William joined in the laughter, as did the young men on either side of him.
Mary glanced over and caught the gaze of Mr. Brown. His smile had a great deal of sympathy attached to it. Thankfully, he didn’t embarrass Mary by trying to defend her honor (which was something William should have done).
Instead, he just grabbed the heaviest shovel and handed it to her. “It ain’t light work,” he said in a low, pleasant voice before giving her a wink.
Mary beamed at him. It was his subtle way of showing her respect, and she decided she liked the older man a great deal.
The young man with the camera was making his rounds. And while she still didn’t know his name, she was intrigued by the things he chose to photograph. He took plenty of the actual dig site and the workers (including Mary), but she watched as he photographed Mrs. Edith Pretty as she sat reading in a chair nearby. He also smiled to himself as he captured her young son, who was using a long stick as his rifle with an oblivious Mr. Phillips in his sights. He turned his camera sky-ward when a flock of magpies passed by overhead. And he caught the way the wind played with the last remaining wildflowers of the season. Mary’s curious mind wanted to know how the camera worked. She wanted to know what the young man saw when he looked through his viewfinder. Was it a more hopeful world?