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...

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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.'

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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.

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'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.

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'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.

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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.

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'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.'

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'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!