Debbie and Nick's wedding

Friends of ours, Debbie and Nick, got married today.

I of course, raced home and played around with some of the photos on 'the gimp'. I liked the fact you could add an 'old photo' effect, and I think it worked pretty well here.

Man, trust me to be straight on the computer when I get home. *sigh* when did I become this nerdy?

Beyond the Secret Garden: Mary and Dickon

This is an 'extended version' of chapter 9. Beware Lemons ahead, and characters acting a little OOC! you have been warned! :D


He bent down and softly kissed the tears from her cheeks, and then his lips found her mouth. She responded to him in a way that he had never felt before – wild and passionate, and he surprised himself with the intensity in which he reciprocated her embrace.

The early spring sunshine shone down on them as he pulled her towards him on the grass, and she went willingly. He embraced her again, wondering if he could ever get enough of her, of her soft lips, her firm kisses. Slowly, he pushed her back onto the lush grass of the garden, until they were laying side by side. He heard her sigh, and then felt her hands pushing up into the back of his shirt, and then they were stroking his skin.

‘I love thee.’ He whispered to her then. ‘I’ve always loved thee.’

She was crying again, and he heard her say through her tears ‘I’ve always loved you, Dickon.’

‘Oh Dickon, what will become of us?’ she asked, giving voice to the fear that he felt inside. He looked at her, wondering how he would be able to live without her, without waking up knowing that he would see her. He wondered how he was going to face each day knowing that she was far away in London. He remembered something his Mother had said to him once, and he said it to her now.

‘Just remember, we may be far apart – but we are together under the same sky. I will wait for thee, Mary.’

Their kisses became more urgent then. She kissed and touched him as though she wanted every part of him. In return, he kissed the soft flesh around her neck. He felt her shudder in pleasure.

Her touch was almost too much. At first he hands were upon his back, then they moved around to his side, and to the sensitive area of his stomach. He wished them to slip lower, yet at the same time he didn’t, worried about his ability to stay in control. Without knowing what he was doing, he ran a hand up the length of her leg, and up her thigh. The softness of her skin felt wonderful and he heard her moan as he pushed his hand up further.

All of a sudden he wanted her, as he had never wanted her before. He was shocked by the intensity of his feeling for her. All thoughts of them being interrupted fled from his mind as he kissed her again and again, feeling her reciprocate his embraces with a hunger he had never felt.

‘I want to see thee.’ He said, breathlessly. ‘Will tha’ let me…..?’ his voice trailed off, but she gleaned his meaning. Wordlessly she nodded, and then began unbuttoning the front of her dress.

‘I want to see you too, Dickon.’ She said, and he shrugged off his shirt, leaving his bare skin exposed to the spring sunlight. He heard her intake of breath, but there was no fear in her eyes.

‘I hope I don’t catch a sunburn on account o’ thee.’ He said in mock seriousness, and they both laughed. He leant down to help her with the buttons, but his fingers were shaking. She pushed her dress back, and he stared in wonder at the way her corset pushed her breasts up, wondering if he had ever seen anything as wonderful in his life. He ached to touch her, but he held back. Would she let him?

His thoughts were answered when she took his hand and guided it towards her cleavage. He looked at her as if to ask for her permission – did he dare? She nodded slightly, holding his hand in place. He pushed his fingers under the stiff corset, slowly and gently, holding his breath. He felt the hardness of a nipple and felt himself grow harder at her gasp of pleasure. Wordlessly, he caressed it with his fingertips.

Her hands reached up and stroked his chest. Her touch was light, as though she was unsure of how to proceed, and he held still when she moved her hands lower, flitting her fingers down under the waistband of his trousers. He jerked back.

‘Did I …. Did I do something wrong?’ she asked, concern in her voice.

‘No, no’ at all.’ He reassured her. ‘It just feels too good, is all.’

‘Oh.’ She said, a small secret smile playing on her face. She evidently liked being able to please him, Dickon thought and he would have been amused at her expression if the situation had been different.

He returned to where he had left off, wanting more of her. Slowly he moved his hand to the front of her corset, unclasping the hooks that held it in place. He wanted to feel the softness of her skin next to his. He wanted to lay down next to her and take her in his arms. He wanted all of her.

‘Would tha’ let me….’ His voice trailed off, and he indicated towards the front of her corset.

‘Yes.’ She whispered, nodding her head, her eyes meeting his. For the first time, he thought, she appeared nervous, but was trying hard not to show it. She was not alone in her fear. He too, felt scared. Should they really be doing this? He knew they were casting away all societal expectations and this frightened him somewhat. Yet he felt powerless to stop what he had begun.

He bent down and finished unclasping her, then pushed the corset away, exposing her pale skin to the sunlight. He sat back, admiring her for a few seconds. She was so beautiful. Soft milky white skin, her breasts small and perfectly formed. He reached out, bringing his hand lightly down her body, watching small Goosebumps form under his touch. He watched as she sighed and closed her eyes, and he continued to run his fingertips lightly over her body, savouring each perfect moment. This was all he had ever wanted, and it was more than he could ever have imagined. He listened to the rising and falling of her breath, the small murmurs of pleasure she made when his fingers strayed over a particularly sensitive spot. He felt as though he ought to get up, clear his head, before he did something he would regret.

‘Can you feel the magic, Dickon? I can. I can feel it when you touch me, I can feel it when you are next to me. I feel so alive and so happy.’ She looked up at him and smiled.

‘Aye, I can feel it.’ He said softly, still stroking her skin.

‘I don’t want you to stop what you’re doing. It feels too good.’

‘I don’t know if I can.’ He said honestly, feeling his need rising with every second that passed. ‘What if I …. What if I can’t?’

She pulled him down to her, so their skin was touching. It felt amazing, she was so warm and so close. She whispered into his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

‘That’s just it. I don’t want you to stop. Don’t you understand, Dickon? I’ll be leaving tomorrow. We have to make the most of the moment we have now.’

‘I don’t want to hurt you…. Mary. What if I do?’ he said, with genuine concern.

‘I’m ready for this.’ Her voice was still shaking. ‘I need you.’

They kissed again, deeply and passionately and Dickon was startled when she slipped her tongue into his mouth, lightly tasting him. He felt as though he would die of pleasure, be overwhelmed by it. It was almost too much. He rolled on top of her, pushing her skirt up, desperate now to be fulfilled. He couldn’t think of anything else now except Mary, and what it would feel like to be inside her. With an unexpected jolt her felt her reach down to unbutton his trousers. He struggled to contain his excitement as her hand brushed over his member, which was straining to be free. She moaned and pulled him down towards her.

He was trembling now, too. He couldn’t help it. This was his first time for both of them and he was unsure about what would please her. In wonder he felt himself enter her, her warmth enveloping him and he moaned deeply, pushing himself in further.

The sensation was overwhelming and he didn’t want it to end, yet he felt it building towards a beautiful and dizzying climax. He looked down on her and saw her eyes shut in pleasure, her breathing rapid. ‘Oh Dickon!’ she cried.

He pulled out slowly, and then pushed into her again, faster this time, and he heard her cry out. He held onto her tightly as he thrust in and out, feeling the magic of her and of the garden surge through him.

‘Oh… oh Mary!’ he cried. ‘Oh my god!’

Her cries matched his, and for a moment they became one. The magic joining them together, as though forever.

What will be: Chapter 4

What will be

Part 4

Excerpts from the Journal of Colin Craven:

Saturday 27^th November, 1908 (around 8:30pm)

I have just got back from speaking with Father, about our sudden reappearance. I had hoped (how much in vain, I don't know), that he would be understanding, and forgiving of our predicament. I will briefly reiterate what happened, if only to put my thoughts in order.

I entered his study, with feelings of trepidation, pushing open the heavy oak doors, and entering at his command. He was seated in his usual position – next to the fire, at his large desk. As usual, it was covered in books and papers, my Father sitting behind them – almost seeming to be putting up a barrier between us. I entered the room, quickly went over and sat down, ready to explain the events that had lead up to our departure from London.

He did not say anything at first, not even to answer my 'Hello Father', as I took my seat. He merely looked me up and down, as if he was really seeing me for the first time. I had come, hoping for sympathy, but something in his cold gaze told me that I was not going to receive any.

At last he spoke.

'So you've decided to show yourself at last.' we sat uncomfortably, then he spoke again: 'What in heaven's name possessed you to do such a thing, Colin?'

'Father, if you will only listen to me, I will attempt an explanation.' I licked my lips, for they were dry. I felt somehow...... nervous..... powerless – emotions I had never felt before in the presence of my Father.

'Very well. Proceed.'

'You see,' I began, 'Some rather unfortunate events happened at the Sutherland's residence.'

'Unfortunate events? Haven't you always told me that the Sutherland's were the most generous, accommodating hosts?'

'Well yes, I have. However, this has nothing to do with me. Something happened to Mary - '

My Father shook his head and looked exasperated.

'And what trouble has she caused this time?'

I felt my cheeks redden, and wondered how I was going to tell him what had happened.

'It..... he – William, that is...... well..... oh Father, it is of a most delicate nature!'

I didn't know where to begin, and was concious of my Father's direct, penetrating gaze.

'Their son?'

'Yes, William. She said...... that on the night of her birthday, he..... he forced himself on her.' I blurted out, then looked away, ashamed.

'He what? I don't believe it?'

'Mary has been most upset about this, Father. She kept to her room for days, barely ate and hardly spoke to anybody. In the end Samantha came to me, and we devised a plan to remove her from the house for her own safety.'

'Her own safety?,' he laughed. 'My son, did it never occur to you that she concocted this very incident merely as a way of returning to Misselthwaite? That it was the only way she could think of of having a valid excuse to return prematurely?'

I swallowed, feeling shame pour over me. I had not thought of that possibility.

'Do you know how much this incident has shamed our family?' he continued. 'Not only have you and Mary run away, but Dr Sutherland's daughter, Samantha, is in your company, I believe.'

'Yes Father.' I whispered.

'And what do you think everyone will make of all this? And of me, Colin? A Father who lets his son and his Niece run wild and do whatever they choose? Who doesn't blink an eyelid when they turn up unannounced at his house, on the back of a Good's cart?' he yelled.

'I just thought it was the right thing to do.' I replied, wishing I could sink into the floor. I had never shamed my Father before, and it hurt, oh how it hurt!

'Well, she may have tricked you into thinking it was the right thing to do,' he replied, his tone softening. 'But Colin, you should have told somebody first. Somebody in authority, like Dr Sutherland, instead of trying to take matter's into your own hands. Now you've left me with no choice. I shall have to send the three of you back to London as soon as is possible.'

'But Mary will - '

'Quite frankly, I am tired of trying to accommodate the wishes of your Cousin. We had enough trouble trying to get her to London in the first place – for her to begin to grow up and act like the Lady she is supposed to be. She is sixteen years old, Colin – sixteen! And yet for all intents and purposes she might as well still be a child!'

'Father, I -' I tried to interrupt.

'Enough!' he shouted dismissively, cutting his hand through the air. 'You will go to your Cousin's rooms and send her up to see me, immediately! I shall tell her myself, that I will not tolerate any more of her lies and deceit. I shall also tell her, that she will be leaving – once again – and as soon as possible. You may go, Colin – and try to act like a man for once, and not a boy.'

I left his study with my head held low, and found myself in the dark passages of the manor. I made my way to Mary's room, my mind in turmoil. I was so sure that she had been in trouble at the hands of William. I had been so certain of it! When she opened the door and I looked into her face, I tried desperately to see the face of a liar – of someone who had manipulated the truth. But all I saw was my cousin's honest, earnest face. I watched her tremble when I told her that Father had insisted he see her, but then see her straighten up stoicly before making her way down the corridor, in the opposite direction. I felt like a coward for not warning her, leaving her to the fate that awaited her behind those heavy oak doors. It is now late, so I shall retire to bed – I fear the next few days are going to be hard to bear.

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Sunday 28^th November, 1908 (early)

I don't know what to make of it. My mind is reeling in disbelief. I arose early this morning and found the following note on the floor of my bedroom, addressed to myself and Samantha. I will transcribe it here:

I have to leave, as I cannot stay here any longer. To stay here would mean to be forced to return to London, and you both know I cannot do that. To do so for me would be worse than dying. Please do not come looking for me, and please delay telling Uncle Archie that I am gone, for as long as possible. Burn this letter once you have read it. Colin, I will send word via Martha when I am somewhere safe. Until then, remember that I Love both of you.

Mary

How could she do this to us? How could she do it to me? Doesn't she understand the sacrifices I've made to bring her here? I am so furious I want to scream!

Later – I have burnt the note – after first shredding it into pieces in a rage reminiscent of my days spent bedridden as an invalid. It is still early, and if I hurry, I may be able to find her and bring her home before all of this gets out of hand. It looks as though it has been snowing overnight, but the weather is now clear. If only she had spoken to me about it, instead of running away – like a thief in the middle of the night.

An image comes to mind just now. Mary's expression when Samantha and I opened the door of our room at the Inn and saw her and Dickon together...... I have no doubt that it is him she has turned to now, For it was always Dickon, and never me! Well, if I hurry, I may be able to find her in time.... and her bring her back to Misselthwaite, where she belongs.

What will be: Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Mary

It was so cold. I had never felt such bone chilling cold.

The wind whispered softly over the dark moor, carrying with it the promise of snow. The chill was everywhere – in the bramble that stuck to my clothes as I walked, in my boots which squelched uncomfortably, to my dress that clung to my shins. My ears felt pink and raw, even under my shawl, and seemed to feel the cold no matter how tightly I wrapped it about my face.
But more troubling than the cold was the thought that I was thoroughly lost. I had no idea how long I had been wandering the moors, or where I was going.

What was I going to do? I couldn't go back to Misselthwaite. And Dickon hadn't been there for me when I had needed him.

I still didn't know how he felt over what Colin had told him. My heart feared the worst – that he now considered me disgraced and dirty, and wanted nothing more to do with me. I was convinced that I was the one he was angry at – and that gave me more despair than anything. Whether he knew it or not, Dickon meant everything to me.

Where was I going? I had no idea. Although I knew that I needed to find some form of shelter, before it began to snow.

--------------------------

Sometime later, I paused to rest.

The moor was a wave of blackness, like a dark, swirling sea. Darkness encompassed everything. Vague, wild ideas flashed through my mind. I could walk until morning, I could eventually make my way to Thwaite village, I could turn back? Who knew what lay out here on the moors, crouching in the darkness... watching... and waiting.

The noise of something coming through the bracken, jolted me back to my senses. My mind filled with fear, something was coming, and I had no where to hide.

I crouched down in the damp heather, my heart pounding incessantly. Trying my best to hide, to become part of the moor, and let whoever (or whatever) was out there pass me by.

Straining my ears, I heard the soft snorting of... it couldn't be... a horse! Stepping slowly, and coming closer. I stood up, and heard it whinny and then the sound of scraping branches as it shied away from me. I moved towards it, slowly.

It carried a rider, a man with broad shoulders. I strained my eyes against the darkness. It couldn't possibly be, could it?

'Dickon?... is that you?'

'Mary?' a very familiar voice said. 'Wha' is tha doing out here?'

I had never felt such a range of emotions in all my life – I was nervous, excited, and apprehensive. I stood still in the swaying heather, watching, as he strode towards me. My heart thumped in my chest, so hard I felt as though it would drown out everything else. I didn't breathe, I couldn't. I simply stood – and waited. I couldn't speak.

He dismounted, and was moving towards me, sure footed and quick through the heather. I moved towards him, trembling.

Warm arms enclosed me, and drew me close. I buried my face in his coat, inhaling his warm scent, shaking.

'Come now. We mun get thee t' shelter. Canst tha' ride?'

I nodded, barely daring to speak, lest this apparition of Dickon should disappear into the darkness of the moor in which he came.

But he was real, and it was the sure-footed Yorkshire lad that was now helping me up onto his horse.

'Are you a dream, Dickon?' I murmured, as I felt him slide up behind me. 'Oh please say you're not... I couldn't bear it.'

'No Miss Mary', he breathed warmly against my neck. 'I'm not a dream. Now hold on tight. She can be a wee bit skittish on such a night.'

I gripped hold of the horses mane, feeling the warmth of the horse and Dickon spread through me. One arm he had wrapped protectively about my waist, the other held the reins. He rode as though he was born to it, as though he and the horse were part of the same being.

'Where are we going, Dickon?' I asked, as soon as the horse began to move. 'I can't go back to Misselthwaite. I haven't told you but my Uncle -'

'We're not going to Misselthwaite, Miss Mary. I know a place... tis not far. Trust me. Tha' is cold and must be warmed. Will snow soon.'

'Thank you, Dickon.' I whispered, still feeling apprehensive. Surely, I thought, he was just doing the gentlemanly thing by rescuing me, and then in the morning would alert my Uncle... and I would be taken away once again. I swallowed grimly, feeling panic rise within me at the thought of having to go back to London. But what other choice did he have? He was in no position to challenge my Uncle's authority. I wanted to tell him how pleased I was to see him, how scared I was for the future – our future. But I said nothing. His silence stilled my tongue.

We rode for what felt like forever. How Dickon managed to navigate through that cold night, I shall never know. I was barely conscious of anything, save his arms around me, which warmed my back, but did little to keep the cold at bay. Presently, as Dickon had predicted, it began to snow – the wind blowing snowflakes up around us - reminding me of the snow globes I had shaken tempestuously as a child. I had begun to shiver more, my face being blown raw by the wind, my hands like blocks of ice. I longed to be warm and hoped that shelter would not be too far away.

As if he had read my thoughts, Dickon murmured into my hair 'Nearly there'.

The moor cleared, and out of the darkness the dim shape of a cottage. Dickon slid off the horse, guiding her towards it as I sat astride. When he stopped I somehow managed to slide off, my teeth clattering. Weakly, I followed Dickon.

Dickon opened the door to the cottage, and took my hand to guide me through the darkness. The inky blackness of the night was soon replaced by an amber glow, as Dickon lit a candle. I stopped to to take in the shelter, as he wordlessly set to work building a fire.

The interior of the cottage was rather tumbledown, and smelt strongly of earth, but in a pleasant way. It was devoid of furniture save for a chair or two, and a pile of straw, and some bedding. I walked around the room, trying to keep warm, then went and picked up one of the woollen blankets to lay around my shoulders. I could hear the fire crackling, and soon the flames cast their glow upon the room. Dickon stood up to admire his handiwork, then rather nervously, looked at me.

'I've got t' say, Miss Mary – tha was the last person I expected t' see tonight.'

His words were casual, but there was an undertone of sadness to them that I had not heard in Dickon's voice before.

With my voice shaking, I spoke: 'My Uncle, Dickon... he has told me that I am to return to London. He... he said that it does not matter what has happened.'

He looked away quickly, a blush gathering on his cheeks. He knows, I thought, he knows everything. I shivered violently and gathered the blanket protectively around myself – both to ward off the cold and my feelings of vulnerability.

'Lass, I'm sorry.' he said quietly.

'Oh Dickon,' I whispered. 'So am I.'

All around the small cottage, the wind whistled. The sound of snow, the sound of the cold. The only sound from within was the crackling of flames and our uneasy breathing. I wondered to myself if Dickon felt as awkward as I did?

'Miss Mary, tha is cold.' he said simply. Getting up, he pulled a chair in front of the fireplace. 'Please, warm thyself.'

I sat down without saying another word. Dickon had gone over to the far corner of the Cottage. When he returned, he carried a small bottle full of a dark, amber liquid.

'What is it?' I asked.

'This will help with th' cold.' he said, passing it to me, with the stopper open. I smelt it, shaking my head involuntarily as the strong smell of alcohol assaulted my senses.

'Whiskey.' he said softly. 'Th' Scots swear by it.'

'Will you drink with me, Dickon?' I asked him.

'Aye.' he said.

I took a long swig from the bottle, almost choking on the strong taste. I coughed and passed it to Dickon, who took a longer drink before replacing the stopper.

'Ah... I feel better already.' I said. I did feel better. The alcohol was burning a fiery path down into my stomach, warming me up from the inside.

'More?' Dickon queried.

'Yes.'

I drank again, feeling the warmth from the fire more intensely than before. I looked over at Dickon, who had a strange, soft expression on his face. He turned his glance quickly towards the fire when he noticed me looking at him. I passed him the bottle once again, and he took another long drink.

'Who owns this place, Dickon – and how did you know to come here?

'This belongs t' my family.' he began. 'It is a hut used for those of us that were out on th' moor in bad weather – and I suspect' – he said with a wry grin 'those husbands that annoyed their wives too much wi' their drinkin.'

I smiled at his explanation.

'Thank you for taking me here.'

'Tis' no problem.'

We sat in silence for a moment, listening to the crackling of the fire, then Dickon pulled his chair closer to mine.

'You've been here before, haven't you Dickon?'

The alcohol was loosening my tongue, and I was becoming more candid with my questions.

'Aye. I have. Often if I'm out on th' Moor at night and canna get back in time. Sometimes I've come here when I've wanted t' be alone – t' think.'

'I can understand that.' I said. 'Somewhere you can be where no one can disturb you, where you can just be - '

'Yourself.' finished Dickon. 'Aye. That is how it is.'

'There was nowhere like that for me in London.' I said, without thinking. 'There were people everywhere. There was no where to be alone, no where I could think. I thought I should go mad.'

Dickon nodded as I spoke.

I stared into the fire, hypnotised by the dancing flames, and lost in my memories.

'But the worst part, was the emptiness I felt inside. It was the part of me that only feels whole when I am at Misselthwaite, when I am free to do as I choose. Nobody understood – not even Samantha. It was as if a part of my soul was missing.'

He nodded, and drank.

'Dickon... I may be gone from my Uncle's house, but I don't feel that way any more. I feel...' I paused. '... I feel whole once again'

'Why is that, Miss Mary?' he said slowly, meeting my gaze.

'Because you are here with me.'

The absence of his reply scared me. Perhaps I had said too much. Then I noticed that his eyes were shining brightly. He was trying to look away, as if he could not bear to set his eyes upon me. I felt an ache in my throat, and a sadness that went deep down inside. Hesitantly, I reached over and wrapped my arm around his shoulders, leaning on him gently. His shoulders were shaking, and with a shock I realised that he was crying.

'Oh Dickon.' I said softly, feeling my own eyes brimming with tears.

I leaned over, wrapping both of my arms around him as I did so, then felt his arms slide around me and pull me tightly towards him. I hugged him as tight as I could, wishing that their was some way of changing what had happened over the last two months.

'I thought I had lost thee.' he was saying.

I pulled back from him and looked at his face. His beautiful blue eyes were bright with tears, his skin pale. His lips were open, slightly parted. Wordlessly, I leaned closer, closing my eyes, and kissed him.

He kissed me back with such a passion and a need that it left me breathless. His lips felt warm on my own, his mouth inviting. I felt his hands move up my back, pulling me towards him, as though he was begging me to continue, as though he never wanted to let me go.

I let him kiss me, over and over. Together, we had found each other again, and I never wanted to let him go.

What will be: Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Dickon

'Dickon, I have to speak to you. Alone.'

Colin's pointed voice and serious expression caught my attention. I looked carefully at the lad just then, noticing the worried look that graced his delicate features.

'Aye, of course, Colin.' I replied, trying to keep my tone casual. 'Shall we walk then?'

We made our way downstairs, to the busy hub of the Inn. Like most Yorkshire Inns, the downstairs held a public house and eatery, and it was here that Colin stopped.

'So, ah, how about a drink then, eh Dickon?'

His tone, although casual, was tinged with tension. I nodded in reply, wondering what it was the lad would have to say. Surely something to do with their return, I thought.

'Barman, two pints thank you.' Colin indicated towards the stout man behind the bar. We pulled up a chair beside the fireplace, Colin stiffly sitting down beside me. Although we had spent a good portion of our childhood together, Colin still believed in the distinctions of class. I was but a mere gardening boy, and he was the son of the Lord of Misselthwaite manor.

'So wha' is it then, Colin?' I asked. 'Wha' is it that tha' wishes t' discuss?'

He groaned deeply, and placed his head in his hands.

'It's about why we're here, Dickon.'

'Well, I was wonderin' about that. I'll take it tha' Father does not know?'

'No, he doesn't know. Dickon, we've... Samantha, Mary and I have... run away.'

'Run away?' I was not expecting this. 'But why?'

'Dickon... it's about Mary. She has had a little... shall we say 'trouble' recently, in London.'

My heart sank in my chest. Surely this couldn't be?

'Wha' kind of trouble does tha' mean?' I asked.

Colin's eyes widened as I spoke, as if he were afraid to speak.

'It's of a very delicate nature, Dickon.' he said presently, stopping to take a hearty swig from his ale mug.

If Mary had been in any kind of trouble I intended to find out as quickly as possible, and felt my ire rise at Colin's hesitation.

'Look, whatever it is, I need to know, Colin. We've known each other for six years. We munna keep secrets from each other. Especially when it's concernin' Mary.'

'You're right Dickon, of course. Well, it all started on the night of her birthday party – she had a, erm, encounter with William Sutherland.'

'Their son?' my eyes narrowed. 'Wha' did he do t' her, Colin.'

My voice rose as I spoke, I couldn't help it. I thought of Mary, how she had left and I had been forced to stay behind while she went far away. And now something had happened to her, and I hadn't been there to protect her. I felt sick to my stomach.

'He...he...' Colin looked furtively around the bar before lowering his voice until it was barely a whisper. 'He forced himself on her, Dickon.'

I felt myself freeze at Colin's words.

'He wha'?' I whispered, leaning towards him.

'He forced himself on her.' Colin looked uncomfortable. 'For gods sake Dickon, don't you understand?'

'Aye. I understand alright. I understand tha' she was helpless and obviously,' I emphasised the word 'not around those who could protect her.' At this I looked pointedly at Colin. 'How could tha' let this happen to her?'

My anger was building and I could feel my heartbeat becoming more rapid. Suddenly, the room felt too warm, too narrow, Colin's bewildered gaze too much to bear. I pushed myself up from the table.

'I'll tell tha' somethin' Colin. When I find him, he may well wish he had nev'r been born.'

'Dickon!' Colin hissed. 'Calm down, man! she is safe now, we got her out of London, and away from him. Dickon, you don't understand -'

'Don't tell me t' calm down. Because of him she will be -'

I didn't finish. I could barely hear Colin's voice as my fury rose. I looked at my childhood companion, seated opposite from me at the table. His face was white and his features pinched. His agate gray eyes glistening with – what was it? passion, fear? I couldn't take it any longer. I closed my eyes before bringing my fist down on the tabletop.

Colin gasped and jumped up, almost out of his seat. The look on his face might have been comical if it hadn't been such a serious situation.

'Enough!' I shouted. His frightened look brought me back to my senses.

'Dickon?', gasped Colin, reaching his hand towards me. 'Are you -'

'Just leave me be, Colin.' I pushed his hand away. 'Please, just leave me alone.'

I turned and moved quickly out of the Inn, leaving Colin's dazed expression behind, watching me as I left. I pushed past the patrons who were giving us queer looks, and made my way outside. I didn't look back, but ran blindly to the stables, where my horse was tethered. I needed to think, I needed to get away, and most of all, I needed the solace that the moor provided.

-----------------------

I forced Jenny to a gallop once we reached the edge of the moor, barely noticing the bitter tears of frustration and pain that were blurring my vision. I rode her hard, then drew her to a walk. Jumping off, and holding her reins in my hand, I leant hard against her warm body and let myself cry, for the first time since Mary had left for London.

-------------------------

I spent the rest of the day feeling as though I wasn't there, but just going through the motions. My mind was in turmoil. I made sure I went and spoke to Andrew, and he agreed to drive the party up to Misselthwaite in his good's cart the following morning. If my eyes were red, he didn't say anything about it, in the way that Yorkshire men do. It wasn't considered manly to talk about your feelings. But I did notice he seemed kinder and more considerate towards me than usual.

-----------------------------

'You're late.' Ben grunted at me when I returned. 'Wha' took thee so long?'

The old man was frowning at me darkly. I decided to try and side step the issue.

'I'm sorry Ben, but I got held up.'

'Learn to be more careful, boy.' was the old gardener's reply. 'tha' will never make head gardener if tha' cannot keep th' time.'

'I said I was sorry, Ben.' I replied, rather shortly, turning away from him and walking towards the kitchen gardens. I was in no mood to argue with the old man about something so trifling. My head was in turmoil.

'And mind yer manners!' he shouted after me. I didn't reply.

------------------------------

I didn't sleep that night. As I lay in my narrow bed in the small room of the cottage, images cascaded through my mind. I couldn't stop thinking about Mary, and what had happened to her. I imagined what I would do if I ever found William Sutherland, and clenched me teeth together tightly as I imagined smashing my fist into his grinning face. Of course, I had never hit anyone in my life, but I figured now I had a reason to start.

In the morning I performed my duties, but my heart was not in it. I kept listening vainly for the sound of the carriage making it's way up the drive. I wanted to see Mary, yet I didn't. I didn't want her to see how the news of her attack had affected me.

Around midday, one of the kitchen hands pelted out into the kitchen gardens. It was Susie, who worked under the cook, Mrs Crabtree. We had a casual acquaintance and often exchanged a few words when she came to collect herbs and vegetables for cook. Her face was bright and flushed, and her words came tumbling out of her mouth before she even stopped.

'Dickon! you'll never guess who has just turned up. Miss Mary and Master Craven! and they've a young lady with 'em!'

I stopped digging, placing my fork down slowly. My heart quickened. I steadied myself and gripped the handle tightly.

'Wha's tha' y' say?' Old Ben interjected, thankfully saving me from having to talk to her. 'The master's son is back? but tis too soon.'

'I know, they just arrived now. And on the back of Andrew Ramsay's goods cart.' she emphasised the last two words, then giggled.

'On the back o' a Good's cart?' Ben repeated, his eyes widening in disbelief. He shook his head. 'Oh dear, the master is not going t' be happy about that.'

'Everyone is talking about it.' she whispered, conspiratorily. 'Something must have happened.'
'Hmmph. Something no good most like.' the old gardener said.

She turned towards me. 'Can you believe it, Dickon?'

'Wha' I can't believe,' I said harshly 'is that tha' would come here and waste our time with your idle gossip.'

'Dickon!' Ben exclaimed. 'Wha' has got into tha', lad?'

Susie sniffed disdainfully. 'You've never before complained about chattin' t' me, Dickon. What's got up your nose?'

Her shocked look brought me back to my senses.

'Nothin', I'm just tired is all.' I mumbled.

'Well, if tha' doesn't want t' know what is happenin' in the house, then I won't tell thee.' Susie replied, before turning and stalking off back to the manor.

'Tha's no way to treat a lass.' Ben grumbled to me, as soon as she was far enough away. 'Wha' is tha' problem, boy?'

The problem, Ben, I thought, is that the woman I love has been through hell and back... and I wasn't there to help her. And I don't know what to do about it.

-------------------------------

As soon as the sun set, and we had eaten our dinner, I once again found myself saddling Jenny. I needed to distance myself from the house and to think.

It was a chilly autumn night, and the wind was whistling through the heather in the moor. The lack of moonlight gave the feeling of being swallowed up by the blackness. I welcomed it. More than anything right now, I wanted to be able to stop feeling. My thoughts always came back to Mary, and what had happened to her at the hands of the Sutherlands. I felt confused about how to approach her about it, and I felt confused about Colin. He should have been there to protect her, I reasoned. But he had let it happen.

We rode on through the night, Jenny walking at a leisurely pace. The world just wasn't just, I thought. In the world we inhabited, I was a mere commoner – Mary, the niece of a Lord. The boundaries surrounding us hadn't seemed so rigid at childhood – back then it didn't seem to matter where you lived, or what your family did. Now things were so different. I loved Mary, but sometimes felt as though being with her was violating the natural order of things. - as if we were breaking some unspoken law.

But I did love her, and I cared about her so much. I wondered if that was what was making my heart ache so much.

'Oh Jenny', I whispered, running my hand down her dark neck. 'What am I going t' do?'

I was so deep in thought that I was almost thrown off Jenny's back as she shied violently.
'Easy girl, easy.' I said quickly, gathering her reins in my hand, trying to see what had startled her. Whatever it was, it had to be still out there. She was snorting in fear, and hadn't settled.
'Shhhh Lass.' I said softly, jumping down. I was intent on discovering what it was that had unnerved her so.

A voice came out of the darkness just then, borne by the cold wind, a voice which I knew so well and had haunted my dreams for the past few months. My heart stopped for a moment and I gasped, straining my ears to hear.

'Dickon? Dickon... is that you?'

A figure emerged out of the darkness, and I barely noticed Jenny shying away, the reins taut in my hands. She was small, her head shrouded in a shawl, but I recognised her at once. It was Mary.

What will be: Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Mary

Excerpt from Mary's diary, November, 1908

I am leaving tonight. I cannot stay here any longer. Uncle Archie just spoke to me and said that he had no choice but to send me back to London. How can I go back there after all that has happened?. I don't know what to do, I only know that I have to escape... and that I have to find Dickon. Being with him, at least, will bring me some peace.

On a bitterly cold evening, in early November 1908, I made my escape from my Uncle's house.

I had dressed warmly enough, knowing that the Yorkshire countryside could be cruel and unforgiving this time of year. Although it was still only late in Autumn, snowfalls had been known to happen – proving the downfall of many unfortunate travellers.

I was running away from everything I had held dear to my heart for the past six years, everything that was, except for one man.

Dickon Sowerby, the Moor Boy, the recently employed under-gardener of Misselthwaite Manor, my best friend, and now, my lover.

My Uncle's words were still ringing in my ears: 'you, child, have disgraced our family, and I have no choice but to send you back to London.' How his words had hurt me, more than he would ever know. Misselthwaite had been my home for six long years, ever since my parents had died in India, and I had been left an Orphan. Misselthwaite had been my place of salvation – where I had grown from a sickly young girl into a confident young woman. A place where I had helped bring a garden – and a young man – back to life. I had thought that Misselthwaite would provide a refuge for me forever, but now I knew I had been mistaken.

The trip to London, intended to 'educate me in the ways of being a lady' had failed dismally, leaving me broken and afraid.

I had ran to my rooms as soon as my Uncle had broke the news to me. Searching wildly around, I had at last found the old trunk where my old dresses were kept. My escape, I knew, depended on my ability to disguise my identity completely.

I had left the house dressed in an old but serviceable gown, heavy coat, worn boots, and with a hat pulled low over my head. I looked exactly how I wanted to appear – like one of the people which populated the Yorkshire moor. I knew I wouldn't attract any attention to myself this way, and thus avoid those that might be searching for me. For all appearances, I was one of the people. And that was exactly what I planned to be.

Nervously, I thought about how Dickon would react when he saw me. We had barely spoken since my return.

Now I was moving quickly through the still night, feeling my breath chill in the damp autumn air. It was silent and still, and I tried to move quietly, to become part of the environment around me. The path up ahead was shrouded in shadow, for it was a moonless night, but I knew my way. I had walked this path so many times that it had almost become ingrained within my consciousness. The path led around the kitchen gardens, and up to Dickon's cottage - and at the end of the path, lay the door to the secret garden.

Very slowly, the small cottage came into view, merging out of the blackness of the night. I moved more quickly, until I came to the front of the house. I paused, remembering what had happened the last time I came here to see Dickon. That time, Ben Weatherstaff had appeared on the porch, and I had almost been discovered. However, for all appearances this time, the cottage seemed still and devoid of activity. I exhaled slowly, feeling my heart pounding under the old gown I had thrown on in haste. Could I really do this? was there really any alternative?
No, there wasn't an alternative, I decided, and quickly walked towards the window of Dickon's room.

My fingers found the window pane, and I knocked softly against the glass. I paused, and waited, barely breathing. Waiting anxiously for Dickon's silhouette to appear against the glass.

The window remained dark, and hope died in my heart. Where was he? I drew in my breath, and once again put my fist to the window, knocking louder this time, as loud as I dared. Still nothing. 'Come on Dickon... where are you?' I thought as I waited, but no reply came. With a sinking heart I edged away from the window, and drew back into the almost liquid darkness of the night. What was I going to do now? I had no idea.

Where was he? as far as I knew, Dickon lived in the cottage full-time. I hadn't known him to ever be anywhere else. I felt panic rising in my chest. I was all alone, I had just ran away from my Uncle's house, and now I had nowhere to go.

All I knew was that I couldn't go back - not as long as my Uncle was intent on sending me away again.

A mixture of frustration and despair began to build inside me. I had counted on Dickon being there. I had not bargained for this - standing alone in the night, futilely tapping on his windowpane and receiving no answer.

'I'm here Dickon, and I need you.' I thought with rising desperation, willing him to hear me, wherever he was. 'Oh please don't leave me alone like this.'

The cold air stirred around me, sending shivers through my body. The air had become heavier, and I realised with a chill, that the smell of snow was in the breeze. What point was there, I thought, of standing beside his window? If it was going to snow, I had to find shelter, and quickly. The rest could wait.

With trembling hands, I picked up the bag that contained my meagre belongings and slung it over my shoulder. I began to walk, heading towards the direction of the moors, with only one intention – to put as much distance between myself and Misselthwaite as I could.

Author's note:

Hi there,

I originally posted this story (titled 'My Secret), on the fanfiction.net website.

I decided that the story needed to be re-written, and not only re-written for consistency, but also re-written in the second person, rather than the first person! so I withdrew the original story.

Quite a few people expressed annoyance that the original was gone, so I created this site to allow them access to the original. The new story can be found here:

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4134137/1/Beyond_the_Secret_Garden

So I am using this blog as a means of posting fanfiction that I have decided to withdraw from fanfiction.net. I will also use it (at times) to post new stories, concerning characters from the Secret Garden - or characters and stories from other books or sources of inspiration!

By the way, I am not making any money from this venture - These are Frances Hodgson Burnett's characters (mostly). I am merely playing with them for a while.

Let me know what you think of the stories by leaving a comment for me to read! I really appreciate getting feedback, and if something in the stories just doesn't sit right with you, or you think I could do better, then let me know!

xxx Elyzia

My Secret, Chapter 20

Chapter 20:
Return to Misselthwaite

Thankfully it wasn't raining.

That was what Sam and Colin had said, that morning when we set out on our journey to Misselthwaite, but it was the last thing on my mind at the moment. What really bothered me, and was distracting me from taking in the breathtaking beauty of the moors around us, was Dickon's absence. After promising last night that he would accompany us to Misselthwaite, he had not showed up this morning.

The cart jostled and bumped over the gravel road, the Clydesdales pulling it at a steady pace. The wind whipped around us, and I looked over to Sam and saw her pulling her hat down over her forehead, as a particulary strong gust of wind nearly blew it away. Colin was laughing at her, and reached over to straighten her scarf, which was getting tangled. The two of them seemed happy and without a care in the world. I couldn't have felt any different.

I was going home, but I didn't know how receptive my Uncle would be of our sudden reappearance, and then there was Dickon. Why hadn't he showed up this morning as he had promised to? Andrew Ramsay, Dickon's brother in law, had made his apologies for Dickon's absence, saying that Dickon had been inundated with work in the manor gardens, and had not been able to spare the morning. At this I had looked suspiciously at Colin, who had looked away, his cheeks growing pink. I had remembered what I had overheard the night before, when Colin and Sam had been discussing what Colin had said to Dickon regarding my early and unexpected arrival.

'Did you tell him?'

'I had to. What else could I have said?'

'How did he take it?'

'Badly......I've never seen Dickon so angry in my life.'

The question that was burning me up inside was this – was Dickon angry at William for what he had done, or worse, was he angry at me?

My stomach churned nervously as the cart jostled along. I knew that it would only be a matter of time before I found out the truth.

---------------------

'Oh Mary, Colin...... it's so beautiful!'

Andrew had guided the horses towards the enterance of the walk, enclosed in Oak trees. The autumn colours were vibrant and bright against the blue sky, providing a stark contrast. I had forgotten how breathtaking this part of the grounds were, and delighted in seeing Sam's reaction.

'Was it worth running away for then?' I joked.

'Absolutely.'

'Wait till you see the rest of the grounds, Samantha.' Colin butted in eagerly. 'Of course, the gardens are not at their best this time of year, but there are still some beautiful trees and plants to admire.'

'I'm looking forward to it.' She said, turning to him and smiling.

I knew that more urgent matters were at hand that needed to be addressed, and I said to Colin: 'we need to discuss what we are going to do when we arrive.'

'Agreed.' He replied, his face becoming serious. 'Ah.... I was thinking that perhaps I should be the one to speak to Father?'

That sounded like a good idea. I didn't particularly like the idea of confronting Uncle Archie with the news of why we had come. I sighed in relief.

'Will you mention to him...... the .... events that happened ..... over my birthday?' I asked, swallowing nervously.

Colin's face grew flushed. We had never openly discussed what had happened before and this was as close as we had ever come to mentioning what had happened that night.

'Y-Yes, of course. He has to know what happened and why we had to leave.'

Sam took my hand in hers and stroked it gently.

'Don't worry too much Mary. Your Uncle sounds like a reasonable man. I'm sure he'll understand why we had to leave.'

'What about you, Sam? what will he think of you accompanying us?'

'I've already spoken to Colin about that.' Colin nodded affirmatively. 'We agreed that he would tell his Father that I have come along for moral support to you. We are hoping that he will speak to my Father and help to .... clear the air, somewhat.'

'I'm sure Father will listen to what I have to say.' Colin reassured us.

'I hope so.' I replied, still not entirely convinced. I imagined what would happen if Uncle Archie did not support Colin's decision. Would he make us go back to London. I shuddered. I would rather die than go back there.

----------------------------------------

'Sir..... what a pleasant surprise.'
I found myself staring into the wrinkled face of Mrs Medlock. It took me a while to realise that 'sir' was now Colin's official title. She turned around and caught sight of me, and Sam, her eyes widening in surprise.

'Oh! Miss Lennox – why, we weren't expecting you and -'

'Miss Samantha Sutherland, Mrs Medlock.'

Mrs Medlock held out her hand.

'Well, very pleased to meet you, I'm sure. Although we had no idea that you were coming.' she noticed the goods cart from which we had stepped down from moments before, adding: 'and on the back of Mr Ramsay's goods cart?'

Colin strode over and placed his arm around her shoulders, leading her away. 'Do not concern yourself with this Medlock. I will explain everything to you in due time. In the meantime, could you please see that our rooms are prepared for us, and that the young ladies -' he gestured towards Sam and I 'have someone help them with their belongings.'

Mrs Medlock still looked distraught, but duty instinctively took over.

'Very well Sir, right away Sir.'

She hurried up the steps towards the main door, holding her skirts as she went. Pausing to cast one last confused look in our direction.

'I'm afraid old Medlock is not used to surprises!' Colin laughed. 'Come now, let us go inside.'

--------------------------------

As soon as we entered the house, Colin went upstairs to his Father's library.

'I hope your Uncle is understanding, Mary.' Sam said nervously, as we walked upstairs to our rooms. 'I don't know what I'll do if he sends me home.'

Colin arrived in our rooms, rather breathlessly, an hour later.

'How did he take the news?' I asked, as soon as he entered the room.

'I won't lie to you Mary, he did not take the news at all well. I tried to tell him why we had to return, and I think he may beginning to understand, but he said he wants to speak to you alone.'

I heard Sam's quick intake of breath, and closed my eyes briefly, trying to fight off the beginnings of a wave of anxiety.

'I will go to him.' I said.

------------------------------------

I knocked on the heavy wooden door, then a few seconds later, heard my Uncle call out wearily 'come in.'

I entered the room, my eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. My Uncle was sitting at his desk beside the fireplace, his huge mastiffs curled up on the rug in their customary place by the fire.

Weariness seemed to engulf my uncle like a cloud. He looked up at me from the piles of paper and books around him, with dark circled eyes. His hair appeared lank and unkept and hung around his face, throwing shadows onto his pale skin. His brow was furrowed, and he didn't speak for a second, merely looked me up and down, as if he was seeing me for the first time.

'Uncle, I -'

The deliberate upwards movement of his hand stopped my words. He continued to stare at me, until I thought I would not be able to take it any longer. Then mercifully, he gestured for me to sit down in the chair beside his desk. I sat down weakly, my heart pounding, wondering how I was going to explain our sudden reappearance.

'I suppose,' he began 'that my son has told you that he has come to see me.'

'Yes.' I whispered, frightened by his piercing gaze. I drew my breath in, trying to summon up my stregnth. 'He said you wanted to speak to me alone, Uncle.'

'I do. Do you know, my young niece, what the consequences of your actions will be?'

'The consequences.....?' reaslisation dawned on me. 'surely you don't mean -'

'What I mean,' he said slowly and deliberately 'is that I have no choice but to send you back to London before you disgrace our entire family.'

My control broke 'But I thought Colin told you!' I cried, my voice rising in pitch in my desperation 'about what happened to me in London, about how Dr Sutherland's son - '

'Quiet!' he shouted. 'I find it hard to believe that a man as well brought up as Dr Sutherland's son could behave in such a manner.'

'But he did', I sobbed, my eyes filling with tears. 'Uncle, he hurt me.'

'It was supposed to be an educational time for you.' he said, ignoring my plea 'to turn you into a lady. And then you disappear from your host's residence, in the middle of the night, with my son and their daughter, without letting anyone know of where you are. Do you realise that Dr and Mrs Sutherland have been worried sick about Samantha's whereabouts, not to mention yours and Colins? when I received word yesterday that the three of you had disappeared, leaving behind a mere note, I could hardly believe what I was reading. I thought surely my son and niece would not do such a thing, disgrace our family name in such a way? You child,' he said, punctuating his words with the pounding of his fist on the tabletop 'have disgraced our family.'

The tears ran freely down my cheeks now, blurring my vision, but I made no attempt to wipe them away 'Uncle, please.... don't send me back there. I can't go back!' I reached over his desk and took his arm, willing him to change his mind. He looked down on me, and gave me a look of such contempt that I realised it was futile. Bursting into fresh tears I drew my hand away, barely noticing how much it was shaking.

'You will leave with my son and Miss Sutherland the next morning.' My Uncle replied, looking away from me. 'I cannot tolerate such behaviour from a young woman who is supposed to be in my care.'

I was shaking, this couldn't be happening, it just couldn't, was all that I could think. I suddenly visualised the long train trip back to London, the stares from the Sutherlands, the endless questioning, the shame, and worst of all – Williams snide grin and drawling voice 'Well, well, well, look who we have here.' I could never go back there, never!

'I won't go.' I said. 'You can't make me leave. You will have to drag me onto the train. I shan't go.'

With that I stood up, and barely hearing my Uncle's protests, ran from the room.

------------------------------------

The candle flickered feebly, casting it's soft glow about the room. I sighed, dipping the nib of my pen into the ink well, then began.

Dear Sam and Colin, I wrote.

I have to go, as I cannot stay here any longer. To stay here would mean to be forced to return to London, and you both know I cannot do that. To do so for me would be worse than dying. Please do not come looking for me, and please delay telling Uncle Archie that I am gone, for as long as possible. Burn this letter once you have read it. Colin, I will send word via Martha when I am somewhere safe. Until then, remember that I love both of you.

Mary

It was done. I scrawled my name on the bottom of the letter, then picked it up with trembling hands, blowing on it slightly to dry the ink. I held it to my chest, feeling my heart beating under the thick cotton of my gown. The last time I had worn this dress I had been merely an innocent child, spending long days in the garden. So much had happened since then.

I folded the note in half, placing it neatly inside the pocket of the coat that Sam had left in my room earlier that evening, where I knew she would find it.

I will remember, I thought to myself, I will get through this. I thought of the Moor boy who had befriended me all those years ago, whose voice soothed the rage within, whose embraces had made me feel whole once again. Did he still love me?

There was only one way to find out.

I closed the door to my room, and began to make my way down the long corridor to where I knew the door waited to the outside world, To my freedom..........and to Dickon.

The end

My Secret, Chapter 19

Chapter 19

The Reunion, Part 2

‘I, ah….. Dickon!’ I spluttered, feeling my heart pounding in my chest. I felt as though I would faint, I could hardly believe that he was right there, standing in front of me.

‘It looks as though tha’ could use a hand’, he grinned, indicating the shards of the ceramic cup that had met an early demise after Dickon’s surprise arrival. His blue eyes were twinkling with amusement.

‘Oh yes, thank you.’ I replied weakly, and together we began to pick up the pieces of the broken china.

I took a chance to look at him quickly then – he appeared much the same, although his hair was a little longer, and bangs of it hung before his forehead, which he kept pushing back absentmindedly. I noticed that he was in his work clothes – old trousers, and a white shirt and vest. His cap, he had taken off, and I saw he had placed it on the ground beside him. I kept wanting to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming – that he actually was here, that he was real – that Dickon Sowerby was sitting next to me on the floor of our room at Thwaite village Inn. Looking at him literally took my breath away.

I didn't know where to begin. I wanted to tell him how much I had missed him, and how his arrival was so welcome, but I couldn't find the words. We stared at each other, waiting for the other to begin, until at last he spoke.

‘I had t’ come, as soon as I heard th’ news of tha’s arrival in the village.’

‘You spoke to Martha then?’ I replied quaveringly, finding my voice at last.

‘Aye.’ She told me tha was here wi’ Colin an a girl from London?’

‘Sam. I mean, Samantha – but she prefers to be called Sam.’

‘Aye. So anyway, I thought t’ myself that tha’ must be verra afraid an lonely – havin just arrived an not bein with tha folk an all, so I thought I would pay thee a visit.’

He smiled as he said this, that impish, mischievious look that I had missed so much. I couldn’t resist that smile. I leaned forward and lightly brushed his lips with my own, then reached for him and drew him towards me, bringing my arms around him and leaning against his broad chest. He smelt good, like the heather on the moor, and of the earth and hard work. I sighed and inhaled deeply. The smell bringing back memories of times when I had been secure and whole. Dickon tightened his arms around me also, one of his hands lightly stroking my back.

‘Ah lass, tha’ feels thin.’ He murmered.

‘I’ve missed you so much, Dickon.’

‘As I have thee.’ He replied.

His blue eyes shone with feeling, and he drew me into his arms once again. This wasn't how I had pictured our reunion – embracing on the floor, kneeling amoung shards of broken china – yet I didn't care. I was with Dickon, that was all that mattered. I leant up against his broad chest and sighed.

'Did you get my letter?' I said, feeling my heart begin to pound furiously again.

'Wha' letter does tha' mean?' Dickon replied.

'Well..... the letter that I sent explaining why we had come. Did you not receive it?'

'No. I only found out tha' would be here from Martha.'

'Oh.' I replied, feeling my heart sinking. So he didn't know. He had no idea why we had come.

'It's just that...... well...... some things have happened over the past few weeks, and I so badly wanted to tell you..... ' I licked my lips nervously. 'you see, what happened was that - '

Just then, we distinctly heard the sound of voices, outside the room. Dickon and I flew apart, and I stood up hastily, brushing down my dress.

'That will be Colin and Sam, back from the village.' I said.

I suddenly felt nervous as to how Colin would react to Dickon's presence. I hadn't told him that Dickon and I were on intimate terms, and I had sworn Sam to secrecy.

I could hear them laughing together, outside the door. Dickon got up and went to sit on one of the chair by the fireplace. The door slowly creaked open, and Sam and Colin appeared, their laughter dying from their faces as their eyes rested on Dickon.

'Dickon?!' Colin exclaimed. 'what are you doing here?'

He went over to Dickon immediately, and shook his hand, then Dickon pulled him into a brief hug. Colin laughed 'It's been ages since I last saw you!'

Sam hung back by the doorway, rather shyly. I glanced at her face, trying to gague her reaction, but her gaze was transfixed on Dickon, and on Colin.

'Well,' Dickon was saying, 'I heard tha' was in th' village, so I thought I should stop by and see thee.' He idly shoved a bit of the broken tea cup with his foot. 'Miss Mary was so surpised t' see me that she dropped her cup!'

'So I see!', laughed Colin. 'Oh Dickon, you have no idea how pleased I am to see you!'

I watched the two young men, feeling mixed emotions. How would Colin react when he found out that Dickon and I were on intimate terms? and how was I going to tell him?

I noticed Sam, standing by the doorway, as transfixed by the scene as I was, and I gestured for her to come over.

'We musn't be rude to our guest', I said, nudging Colin. 'Dickon, I would like you to meet Sam – Samantha Sutherland. I stayed with her and her family in London for the past two months.'

'Yes,' interjected Colin. 'Dickon, this is Samantha – Miss Sutherland.' he said, giving me a disapproving glance, at what I took to be my lack of formality.

Dickon strode forward and took Sam's outstretched hand.

'Verra nice t' meet you, Miss Sutherland.' he said, smiling softly.

'Thank you. It's lovely to meet you too, Dickon I've...... I've heard so much about you.' She stuttered, her cheeks growing red. ' and please, call me “Sam”. Miss Sutherland is so formal.'

'Verra well then...... Sam', Dickon replied.

'Shall I ring the bell for Tea, then?' Colin asked.

'Yes, please do. I could certainly do with a cup.' replied Sam.

'Aye, an' I wouldn't mind.' Dickon said, with a grin.

Lord knows, we could all do with something. I thought. Although perhaps stronger than a cup of tea.

'and you, Mary? will you be joining us?' Colin quieried.

'Yes, of course.' I said. 'I'm sure we've all got a lot to talk about, and a good strong cup of tea will set us right.'





'I must admit, I was a wee bit surprised t' hear of thee's arrival.' Dickon was saying, 'I knew tha' would be back for Christmas, but not before.'

We were all sitting around the small dining table in the room, drinking tea and eating freshly baked scones. The fire was roaring, casting a soft glow over the room, making it feel cosy. The four of us were talking animatedly. I felt so relaxed and comfortable, that if it hadn't been for Sam's presence, I think I might have forgotten that the last couple of months had ever happened.

'Yes, it did happen rather quickly.' I replied, helping myself to a second cup of tea.

'These things do, sometimes.' Sam interjected. 'I so wanted to see Mary's home. I think I must have played some part in our arrival in Thwaite.'

'There is so much to see here, Sam. I think you will love it.' Colin smiled warmly at her, and I mentally thanked him for changing the subject.

'Well, w' Miss Mary, and Master Colin as your guides you won't be missin' anythin', like they said – There is much to see in th' countryside.' He paused, and then gave us a long, knowing look. 'I take it tha' Uncle has not been alerted to thee's arrival, yet?'

'Well..... no.... not exactly.' replied Colin, pushing his dark hair out of his face. For once, he seemed at a loss for words.

'You see..... it's all rather complicated.'

Dickon raised his eyebrow, but said nothing.

'There is something you could help us with, Dickon – if you wouldn't mind, that is.'

'I'll help thee in any way I can.'

Sam caught my eye through the exchange, and gave me smile. She had been watching the interaction between the two young men intently, and I could tell that she was impressed with Dickon's maturity.

'Do you know of anywhere we could hire a carriage?' Colin asked, trying to sound casual.

'Ah! so thee can travel t' Misselthwaite?'

'Yes.'

'We would appreciate any help you could give us, Dickon.' Sam added.

Dickon sat still, deep in thought. Presently he spoke.

'Martha - '

'That's Dickon's sister', I whispered to Sam.

'Martha's husband – my brother-in-law, is part of a carting business. I know he regularly travels up t' Misselthwaite. Perhaps...... if thee wouldn't mind travellin' w' him that is.... well, I know for a fact he will be going up there t'morra.'

I looked at Colin and Sam, and seeing no objections, voiced my opinion.

'That sounds like a splendid idea, Dickon.'

'Colin?' he quieried.

My cousin set down his tea cup.

'If my cousin and Samantha have no objections, than neither do I. I just hope Father doesn't jump out of his skin when he sees us.'

We all laughed at Colin's little joke, and the mood of the room lightened once again.

'I'm sure he won't, Master Colin. Thee has surprised him more in th' past, I'm sure.'

We all laughed, and I thought fondly back to the time when a young boy had learned to walk again.

'All right then, let's sort out the details.' replied Colin. 'We have a lot to get through.'




Dickon leaned back against his chair and stretched. 'I had better get going.' he said, 'I was meant to be back over an' hour ago.'

He began to get up, and walked towards the door.

'Goodbye, Dickon', Sam said. 'It was lovely to meet you, at last.'

'And you, Miss Sam.'

'Goodbye.' I whispered. 'We will see you tomorrow, then, Dickon?'

'Aye.' he replied, holding my gaze for as long as he dared, for a moment his features softening into tenderness. 'of course.'

Colin got up and followed Dickon to the door. 'Ah Dickon' he said in a low voice 'do you mind if I accompany you outside? there is a matter I would like to discuss with you....... one that is particularly delicate.'

Dickon shot me a puzzled look. I supposed he couldn't help it. I felt my heart sink when I guessed what it was Colin wished to discuss with Dickon.

In reply to Colin Dickon turned to him and nodded, and the two of them departed the room, Colin closing the door softly behind him, leaving Sam and I only to guess as to what was being discussed downstairs. Sam gave me a frightened look, her eyes saying what she could not. Asking the question that both of us were desperate to have answered. How would Dickon react to Colin's news?


Later that night, I awoke from a broken sleep to feel the covers being pushed back. Sam was getting out of bed. She leant over to me and whispered softly:

'I'm going to get a drink of water. I shan't be long'

I looked over through half-closed eyes and saw her take the candle that weakly lit out bedroom.

'Oh.... how cold it is!'

Sam, clad in her nightgown, and holding a single candle, exited the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Colin was sleeping in the room next to us – having once again occupied the space beside the fire. I lay awake, pulling the blankets tightly around me, and I began to hear Colin and Sam's voices, murmering softly. The walls in the Inn were thin – any noise travelled easily.

'Did you tell him?' I heard Sam say.

'I had to. What else could I have said?'

'How did he take it?'

'Badly......I've never seen Dickon so angry in my life.'

'I'm not surprised – I mean, they've always been close, haven't they?'

'Well, since we were children. He's very protective of her.'

'This is all so overwhelming.' Sam was saying.

'I know.' Colin paused. 'I have no idea how Father will take all of this.'

'I just wish there was something more I could do. I feel so terrible Colin, over what happened.'

I realised that she was crying now.

'You can't blame yourself, Sam. It had nothing to do with you.'

'Colin...... I'm afraid.'

Colin murmered something that I couldn't quite make out. Silently, I crept out of bed, and placed my head to the door.

'Everything will work out, you'll see.'

I bent down, until my eyes were level with the keyhole in the door. Colin and Sam were sitting together by the fireplace, with their backs to me. He had one arm around her shoulder, and was slowly stroking her back. She was leaning into his chest and weeping quietly.
I felt as though I was witnessing something they wouldn't want me to see, and my cheeks began burning at once. Yet, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the scene that unfolded in front of me.

'I feel so helpless and alone. I want to help Mary, but I don't know where to begin. Oh Colin, how can I help her when I feel like this?'

'You are helping her, Sam' my cousin said softly. 'She needs all the friends she can get at a time like this.' he took her by the shoulders, looking into her eyes. 'I promise you. Everything will work out.' He moved his hand up to her cheek, which was streaked with tears, slowly wiping them away.

I returned to bed, suddenly aware that I might not be the only one that had a secret to keep.

My Secret, Chapter 18

Chapter 18:
The Reunion, Part 1

We had spent the rest of that first night in a small botique hotel, based near Kings Cross station, that Colin had organised for us. He had suggested it as a means of 'gaining a few hours rest' before our train journey to Yorkshire the following morning. For once I could have gotten down on my knees and thanked my cousin personally for being so organized. Of course, I didn't, but I passed that night, spent with Sam in the foreign hotel bed, feeling like I owed him my life.
I had found it difficult to stomach my breakfast that morning, and noticed that Colin and Sam had barely touched their food either. It hardly seemed real that today I was going home, that we would all be in Thwaite village by the end of the day. I supposed we were all still nervous about being caught and hauled back to the Sutherland residence. Sam in particular seemed barely able to hide her anxiety, and spent the whole of breakfast casting furitive glances towards the window of the room.

Colin was quiet, and I wondered if he was contemplating our escape from the Sutherland's, his feelings of betrayal over William, or perhaps what Uncle Archie would say to us when we eventually arrived home. But whatever his worries were, he kept them to himself, and we ate our breakfast in silence.

The train ride had been one tinged with anticipation. We had departed early, just as the sun was rising. It was a weekday, and so the train was almost devoid of passengers. Most of the business, I was told by Colin, came by those who journeyed to the country on the weekend, to visit friends and relatives. Very few people took the day long trip during the week.

We had decided early on, that we would go by the assumption of being siblings, if anyone asked. Once again, I felt grateful towards Colin for agreeing to our plan. Sam had explained that it was difficult for women, especially those that were young, to travel alone. I had no reason to doubt her. More than ever before, I knew the dangers that could present themselves to young women...

------------------------

It was raining when we finally arrived at the village of Thwaite, and the day was drawing to a close.

Colin had chosen Thwaite as our stopping point as it was the largest settlement in our part of Yorkshire, and the most likely to have accomodation.

I had stepped off the train and taken a deep breath, breathing in the scent of [the mist and [the rain. Smelling the light earthy fragrance of heather that seemed to hang in the air, I barely noticed the tears that fell in rivulets down my cheeks. I was home.

Had I never understood the power that this place had over me until now? No, I had not. Here was my home, my sanctuary. Stepping off the train felt symbolic. I was leaving London behind, and beginning to move on from everything that had happened there.

Sam stepped up beside me then, with Colin following, carrying our carpet bags.

'I've put him to good use, Mary. I thought you would approve.' she said, playfully.

I looked over and saw my Cousin struggling with the two bags, but trying to make out as if it was no effort.

'Perhaps we should go and help him?' Sam asked, with laughter behind her speech. 'He looks as though he needs it!'

'No, let him carry our bags Sam, at least down from the platform – it'll do him good.' I informed her.

Our laughter must have carried over to Colin, who looked put out when he reached us. I hadn't meant to laugh at my cousin, but it was a combination of nerves, tiredness, and excitement. He looked cross as he approached, literally dragging the bags behind him.

'There's no need to laugh.' He said pointedly, depositing our bags on the ground. He flicked a long strand of hair away from his face and sighed.

'So what do we do now?' I asked him directly, voicing a question I knew only too well to be on everybody's mind.

'Do now?' he repeated. 'Good lord Mary, do you think I somehow managed to plan for a cab to Misselthwaite on such short notice?'

'You mean you didn't?' interjected Sam, 'But where are we meant to go from here? How are we to get anywhere with all our belongings?'

She was becoming almost hysterical, and I noticed her wringing her hands again. I remembered that this was the first time she had been away from home, and that she wasn't used to having to plan and think for herself.

I took in both of them just then, standing bedraggled at the train station, and thought of how I had been fighting off the thin veil of exhaustion for most of the afternoon. I couldn't wait to collapse in bed and sleep. But I couldn't give in to it just yet.

'Look, I've got a little bit of money, enough for some rooms in Thwaite tonight. Then when we are ready, we can hire a cab and make our way to Misselthwaite. You see, I didn't come completely unprepared.'

He was giving us his serious expression now, I noticed. The one he always used to wear when speaking to those he felt as though he had authority over. No doubt born from his days of being Lord of the manor whenever Uncle Archie was away. Colin was used to getting his own way, and this had been happening since he was born. I made a mental reminder not to question him again, unless I felt in the mood for a lecture.

Standing beside me was Sam, taking in the surroundings, and breathing deeply.

'I can't believe we've made it, Mary!' she said in wonder. 'We're actually here, aren't we?'

'Yes, yes we are.' I replied. 'Thank goodness.'

Colin coughed.

'As much as I love the train station, I think we should probably make a move.'

-------------------

Colin ordered us a small supper, and we ate ravenously when the maid brought it in to us. We had hired a small set of rooms above the public house in Twaite.

The rooms were plain and simple, but cosy. We were seated in large armchairs, beside a roaring fire, a welcome sight when one took in the raging wind and rain outside. What had begun as a gentle Autumn rain, had gathered in strength and was now a full blown storm. I thought about the windswept moors that lay beyond the village, and hoped that Dickon was not out on such a night.

Colin poured us each a glass of the red wine he had procured. I tasted it hesitantly, turning my nose up at the sour taste. Sam, I noticed, took a large gulp of her wine, and her hands were shaking.

'To our escape,' Colin said quietly, lifting up his glass, clinking it against mine, and then Sam's. Looking at me with his queer grey eyes, he paused, before saying 'Lord knows, Cousin, how you managed to persuade me to do this.'

No one had anything to say, so we sat staring into the fire. My wine sat on the table beside me, untouched. I stared at the flames in a kind of hypnotic way, entranced by their brightness and the way they devoured the coal in the fireplace, reducing it to glowing embers.

Gradually I felt my eyelids begin to drop, and I yawned loudly. I looked up and saw that Colin and Sam had finished their wine, and noticed Colin getting the bottle to fill up his glass. He offered the bottle to me, but I shook my head, declining. Sam, however, raised her glass to him, and he once again filled it with the thick, red liquid.

'I'm going to bed.' I said, drowsily, pushing myself out of the chair. Sam looked up at me. 'I'll be there shortly. But Mary, you need to sleep. Don't stay awake for me.'

I made our way through to our bedroom, in the next room, leaving Colin and Sam in front of the fireplace. I closed the door, still hearing the soft murmer of their voices.

Once I was in bed, I retrieved a poetry book that I had carried with me since leaving Yorkshire. Lodged in the pages was a photo. I took it out, carefully, soothing the wrinkled edges. It was a picture of a young girl and a youth, taken many years ago. They were sitting together on a large swing seat, in a garden filled with roses, and they were smiling.

-----------------------

'So...' he drawled, moving closer. 'Lets see what we have here...'

'You have no right to be here, get away from me!' I screamed, my voice shaking. I backed into the corner of the room, and looked up as his large figure loomed closer, still half-hidden in the shadows.

'No, no... I don't think so. Don't you know that you can never get away – not really.' he laughed, and it was cold and cruel. 'Don't you know that I will always be inside you, and will follow you wherever you go?'

I edged back further into the corner, almost feeling him inside my mind, lodging himself there, like an infestation.

'There is no escape for you, this is forever.'

His features twisted, becoming horribly distorted, and I shrank back in horror.

'Dickon will find out... he will find out and he will hate you for it.'

He lurched towards me, and I screamed.

---------------------

'Mary, Mary!'

I sat bold upright, still held in the grips of the nightmare. I looked up wildly at Sam, who was shaking me. Behind her stood Colin, deep concern on his features.

'He was here! He was here!' I cried, thrashing out of her grip.

She turned and stared at Colin in desperation.

'No one's here, Mary.' Colin said quietly, stepping forward. 'You've been alone the whole time.'

I broke down and started sobbing, still feeling William's presence in my mind. It had felt so real – and still did. His face, horrible and sneering still lurked in the back of my mind. I stared wildly up at the dark corners of the room then brought my gaze lower. The room was shrouded in darkness, lit only by a single flickering candlelight.

'Where is he?' I screamed. 'He's here, I know he is!'

I wrestled myself out of Sam's grip, launching myself out of bed.

'Mary, stop it. We're not in London anymore, we're in Thwaite village. Please calm down. There is no way he could be here, please Mary.'

Her voice was rising in desperation, and I realised that she too, was close to tears.

I felt my legs crumple under me, and I collapsed against the bed, giving in to my sobs. Presently I felt warm arms encircle my shoulders, and a soothing voice in my ear.

'Its alright Mary, we're here.'

My heart was beating slower, now, and reality was returning. The dream fading from my mind. I suddenly became aware of where we were and how far we had come. I lifted my head from the mattress, my eyes taking in the small whitewashed room, plainly decorated, but homeley, nonetheless. Then I turned towards Sam. Her face was tear streaked, and full of care and concern. I felt close to tears again. I turned from her, looking towards the doorway where Colin had stood, which was now empty.

'Where has he gone?' I gulped, sitting up to wipe my eyes.

'To get us something to brace our nerves, I should think.' she laughed nervously, as she used the sleeve of her dress to wipe away stray tears.

Later that evening, I lay safely in the warmth of the small bed, feeling Sam's breathing regular and easy beside me. Colin had settled down in the sitting room – asleep in front of the fire after too many glasses of red wine. I envied them in their sleep, knowing that there would be no rest for me tonight. Too many images were crowded my mind, and I felt nervous and jumpy.
As I lay awake, I thought of the events of the day, and of the past night. So little time had passed since I departed for London, yet so much had happened within that time. Now, more than ever, I treasured the thought of the easy, carefree days in the garden – those which I had taken for granted for so long. Sighing, I closed my eyes, and sleep came to me at last.

--------------------------

I approached the familiar doorstep hesitantly, then held my breath and banged on the door.
The sound of feet from within the house told me that Martha was coming, hurrying actually, towards the door.

'I'll just be a minute, Mother.' I heard her voice come from inside the house. 'I just have to...'

A few seconds later and the door swung open, revealing an extremely surprised young Mother, whose eyes looked set to pop out of her head. Her auburn hair had been tied up behind a head scraf, and her freckled face was tinged pink with surprise.

'Oh! Miss Mary!? it's you?'

'I see you weren't expecting me.' I said, knowing that Martha would pick up on my sarcasm.
Her astonishment turned to a smile of friendship. She raised her hands to the air and then back down to her sides, shrugging.

'Well... no...I thought tha' was off bein' educated in London.' she looked past me, and seeing no one else, said 'thy has come here alone, then? why, where is Mrs Medlock?'

'I didn't come from Misselthwaite, Martha. I came from London. I haven't been home yet.'

This revelation seemed too much for Martha.

'But, why? Have they not sent anyone t' pick tha' up?'

'Can I come in, Martha? I'm afraid it's a bit of a long story.'

'Oh, but of course.' She said, seeming to remember herself, and gestured towards the inside of the cottage. 'Come in, come in.'

I entered through the narrow doorway, feeling at once at home in Martha's small cottage. Photographs adorned the wall of the kitchen, where Martha led me to, and I busied myself in looking at these while she put the kettle on the stove to boil. The pictures were lovingly cared for, and I saw the one of Martha's wedding to Andrew Ramsay, taking pride of place in the centre. It had been taken with my Uncle's own camera – and he had given the picture to Martha as one of her many wedding gifts. I looked at it closely now, and I could see Martha and Andrew, smiling radiantly in the centre of a throng of people – which included the Misselthwaite staff, and of course, Martha's brother Dickon.

The photograph was a few years old now, and I marvelled at how much Dickon had grown during that time.

'Tea for tha', Miss?' Martha asked, through the sound of the crashing and banging of pots.

'Please, Martha', I replied softly.

Presently, the plump young woman re-appeared, jiggling a baby on her hip.

'Oh, how he's grown.' I marvelled at the tiny version of Martha and Andrew that giggled and chorted when I went to pick him up.

'Aye, our Jemmy's almost a year old now.' She replied, bursting with pride. We settled down into the chairs of the table (carved by Andrew himself, Martha had told me, during a particularly confidential moment).

'Oh Martha, he's adorable.' I said.

Martha blushed proudly, and went to fetch the kettle and cups. When she sat back down she looked at me intently, and then spoke.

'Now tell me,' Martha said, 'y' have no' been in any trouble, has tha? It is just so sudden, like, thy reappearance.'

I had been meaning to lie, to make up a story to say anything, other than admit to what happened and the real reason I had come home so early, but I just couldn't do it.

'Hast tha' come alone?', she continued.

'No, I haven't come alone. I have friends with me. Colin, and another young lady named Samantha – one of the Sutherlands. But Martha, no one else knows that I am here yet, and you must tell no one that you have seen me – not even my Uncle.'

'But Miss Mary, why?' she implored, her tone becoming concerned. Frown lines were developing on her forehead – something that looked very out of place on Martha Sowerby's face. She reached over and took my hand. 'Please tell me.'

'Its not something I feel proud of, Martha, turning up like this. But you have to understand, it was the only thing I could do! I just had to get out of there. Please believe me when I say that terrible, terrible things have happened.'

'Oh Miss! Hast tha' had no friends t' help thee, all this time?'

'Yes, I have had friends Martha. Sam has been absolutely wonderful to me. She accompanied me all this way, and we've been staying at the Inn with Colin, for the last two days.

'Oh! all this time! but Miss Mary, th' surely has some idea of t' trouble thee will be in when th' Master finds out? and what about the young ladies family?'

'I don't care!' I blurted out. 'I'm not going back, and I don't care if I have to live the rest of my life out in the public Inn at Thwaite! No one is going to make me go back to that house!' I paused, trying to quell the anger and fear that were rising to the surface. 'And as for Sam's family, I don't care what they think. After all, it was their son who -'

I felt my face redden, and I quickly looked down. Had I said too much?

'Mary, will you please just tell me what happened?'

'Oh Martha! I'm afraid. I'm afraid that Dickon won't love me anymore.'

The tears that I had tried for so long to control, began to cascade down my face.

'I'm in so much trouble, Martha. So much trouble.'

I was barely aware that Martha had put Jemmy down, and was now hugging me closely to her. In a broken voice, I told her everything that had happened.

-------------------------


'There now, Miss. Dry tha' eyes. That's it, Mary'

Martha's kind voice was soothing and calm. She handed me a handkerchief, and pushed a mug of hot tea towards me.

'There now. It's good an' hot. Mother always says a body feels better after a strong cup o' tea.'

I drank the tea, feeling myself gradually calming down.

'Do you think he will still... love me, Martha?'

Martha smiled, and took my hand.

'Of course he will love thee, Miss. Why, if tha' only knew how he'd been speaking of thee when tha' left for London. All this time I'm surprised he hasna pined away completely for thee.'

'I wrote to him, telling him what happened. I can hardly remember doing it now. I guess he already knows.'

'Aye.' Martha nodded. 'But Mary, tha' needs t' see him.'

'I know.' I said, my voice quavering. 'I just don't know what I'm going to say to him when I do. I've been missing him for so long, and now I am here, and so much has happened, Martha!'

'Then you must see him, Mary. The sooner the better.'

------------------------

'Come in', I said wearily, hearing a knocking on the door. Sam and Colin had headed out into Thwaite village, and I had been alone for the past half hour.

The door moved slowly open. One of the servants, I thought wearily, wishing that they would just go away and leave me alone.

'If you've come for the lunch tray, it's already been taken down, thank you.' I called out, thinking it would save having to speak to them.

'Its not th' lunch tray I've come for, but if tha' would rather not see me... a familiar voice replied casually.

My heart jumped up in my chest and began pounding viciously. I knew that voice, it was so familiar. I looked up as a tall young man slowly entered the room, a huge grin on his freckled face.

'It's you I've come t' see, Miss Mary.'

My eyes opened wide, and the tea cup I was holding crashed to the floor. It was Dickon!