My Secret, Chapter 9

Chapter 9:
When the moon rises high

The moon was high in the sky when I left, and it cast it's shallow white glare on the trees and plants of the walk. I hurried through the dark gardens, hearing only my footsteps crunching on the gravel as I walked, and the sighing of the gentle breeze as it blew through the trees. I felt safe in the darkness – it enveloped me, keeping me and my secret secure. The darkness would hide us away from prying and judgemental eyes, it would allow us to be free and true to ourselves. What would happen after this night, I did not know, I only knew that I had to see Dickon one more time before I left.

I supposed that I was finding out what life was like for a woman of my class and station. I was beginning to realise just how trapped I was, that the uninhibited freedom I had always felt and had taken for granted was slowly being stripped away from me, bit by bit, until all I was left with was a shallow, caged existence. It had begun with the announcement of my trip to London, and had followed with weeks of gradual cajoling by Mrs Medlock and others – corsets, lessons on proper behaviour and ettiquette, and being forced to leave the Garden – and my childhood, behind. The proposed trip to London had in many ways meant the end of my childhood and the beginning of my life as a young woman. It had meant friendships, and relationships changing. It had made become more aware of what – and who – was important in my life. It had made me realise just what I would be leaving behind.

Things had changed between us, and when exactly had they changed? I wondered. Could it have been that moment when we were together in the garden and I saw that look in Dickon's eyes that I had never seen before? when did we stop being childhood friends and begin to be something more...? All I knew now that I needed Dickon, I needed to be beside him. I needed him in a way that I had never needed anyone before, as if we were the only two people left in the world, a world that didn't understand us and our friendship. But what I felt for him now was much more than friendship, it had deepened and ripened into something far more beautiful and eternal in essence. Now whenever I closed my eyes at night I could see Dickon's face. His eyes, his smiling, laughing eyes. I saw him in my daydreams, wandering the moor through the mist, as if he was a creature of the moor himself, as much a part of the land as the heather and animals that inhabited it. I saw him walking in the sun, with his garden tools slung casually over his shoulder. I saw him rolling up his shirt sleeves, exposing his bare arms to the warm sun. But most of all, I saw him at night, once I was alone and laying in bed. I saw him then, coming towards me, telling me that he loved me, and then feeling his warm body against mine. Feeling whole and complete once again. There was so much I wanted to tell him – to experience with him – and so little time in which to do it.

Mrs Medlock had informed me later that morning, that my leaving time had been brought forward – and I would now be leaving the following morning. I had felt a feeling of dread begin to seep into my heart, This time it was real. It was really happening, and there was nothing I could do about it. The afternoon passed wearily, with my bags being packed for London, and my items of clothing laundered and pressed. The house was a busy hive of activity, and I sat alone, on my bed, oblivious to it all – just wishing that the minutes – and hours, would pass more quickly. At last evening had come and the day had drawn to a close. Sarah had come in to my room later that night, after dinner, and had said that she would help me undress for bed. I had told her not to worry, that I could do it myself after she had left. She had given me a knowing look just then, before saying 'You're going out to see him again, aren't you Miss?'

'I have to, Sarah. I leave for London tomorrow. This is the last chance I have to see him'

She must have seen the desperate, pleading look in my eyes, that relayed my plight to her, because she walked over and gave me a brief hug.

'Take care of y'self, Miss Mary', she had said, her blue eyes full of sorrow. 'I'll keep the Missus busy so she doesn't check in on thee.'

With the thought of Sarah's help in keeping Mrs Medlock from intervening, I had left earlier than I had done the previous night. I was becoming quite adept at sneaking through the dark corridors of the house, and before long I had found myself out in the gardens where I had broke into a brisk walk. 'Oh Dickon, please don't be too long in coming,' I thought as I hurried on, through the shadowy walkways.

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The door to the Secret Garden was closed, and it creaked slightly as I pushed it open. Moonlight bathed the Garden in a white glow, and standing at it's very center, was Dickon. He stood as pale as a piece of sculptured stone. He saw me, and began to walk towards me, silently moving over the still ground. 'Are you a dream?', I found myself saying, barely above a whisper, as if my very words would taint the beautiful stillness of the night. 'No, I'm not a dream', I heard him reply softly, 'I'm very real, and tha can even pinch me if tha wants.' But it was so much like a beautiful dream when he came towards me. He was dreamlike, yet real, shrouded in pale moonlight, yet he was Dickon. The Dickon of the Secret Garden, the young man that I loved.

'Don't say anything', he said softly, as he came closer. 'Just be.'

And it was as he said. I felt his arms encircle my narrow waist and draw me close to him. His hands ran up and down my back like silk, and he leaned down and kissed me. We stood like that, lovers embracing under the light of the full moon, alone in our garden, alone with each other, two separate entities, joining together as one.

Silently, he lead me over to the old Apple tree, and gently pulled me down next to him on the ground. The grass was slightly damp and I shivered slightly as I got down, but did not say anything. Once we were seated, Dickon began kissing me again, and I felt his hands gently touching me, stroking me. There was no hurry this time. There was no fear of being interrupted or discovered. I was shaking now, partly in fear and partly in pleasure, as I felt feelings flow through me that I had never experienced before – and the beginnings of an aching need that longed to be fulfilled. My hands found Dickon's chest, and I reached up under his shirt to feel his warm skin. I heard him groan when I did so, and this encouraged me, and I brought my hands lower. I started when I felt him reach down and pull them back up, and looked up confused 'If tha keeps doing that, I don't think I can last.' His hands came back up and found the buttons of my dress, and he carefully undid the ones at the very top. When he stopped, I reached up and helped him, until the dress fell apart at the top, revealing my shoulders and the top of my corset. I felt his warm hands slide gently under the dress, until they were lightly stroking my warm shoulders, feeling the skin. My skin seemed to come alive at his touch, which was warm yet seemed to burn me like fire – and left me aching for more. He reached down, lightly kissing my bare skin 'Tha is so verra beautiful, Mary', he said, his accent thick. 'Skin pale as a Lily... so beautiful... so lovely.'

I sighed at his touch, that felt so natural and right. We are meant to be together, I thought, we should be together. I reached up and removed Dickon's shirt, pulling it up and over his head. I wanted to see him.

He was pale in the moonlight, his body taut, and his muscles hardened from continually tending the gardens. He was beautiful. I took him all in, breathing softly, and then gently reached up and ran my hand down his chest, feeling the light, soft hair under my fingers. I felt goosebumps rise up from where my hands had been. 'Are you cold?' I whispered. 'If I was, I dinna think I could feel it', he replied, and I felt him quiver under my light touch.

His own hands reached up and undid the remaining buttons on the front of my dress. He pulled it down, until it was around my waist, and then leaned over me and took me in his arms once again. He pushed me down softly, until I was laying on the damp grass, and I felt his warm skin touch my own, and gasped, wondering at the feeling it produced inside me. I struggled to contain my emotion, to stop it from crashing up to the surface, but I couldn't help it. As I kissed him, a tear escaped, and went trickling down my cheek, followed by another, and another. We broke apart, breathing hard. 'I love you Dickon', I cried passionately, as I looked into his dark eyes. 'I love you so much, and I wanted to tell you last night, but you left before I could. I love you, and I have loved you for such a long time.'

'I love thee', he replied 'and I want thee. I want thee so verra much.'

'I want you too, Dickon. More than I've ever wanted anything.'

He placed a hand on the top of my corset, his fingers idly over one of the hooks. He then looked down at me and spoke in a voice that was both soft and husky.

'Will thee let me...?'

I looked up at him, and saw the need in his eyes – a need that reflected my own. I took his hand and softly whispered:

'I want you to.'