Elyzia's fanfiction

Debbie and Nick's wedding

2008-10-17T22:49:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-29T16:14:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-11T19:24:00.000-07:00

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.

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

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

2008-04-04T13:22:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-04T00:15:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-04T00:11:00.000-07:00

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:

2008-03-26T20:06:00.000-07:00

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

2008-03-26T19:56:00.000-07:00

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

2008-03-26T19:54:00.000-07:00

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

2008-03-24T13:25:00.000-07:00

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!

My Secret, Chapter 17

2008-03-24T13:21:00.000-07:00

Chapter 17:
The tale of Samantha Sutherland

The trip to Colin and Mary's home had been an eventful one so far, and on a dreary night in late October 1908, we had finally arrived in the village of Thwaite.

The first thing I remember was of small, stone cottages with thatched roofs – a far cry from the grand buildings of London that I was accustomed to. I had never ventured to this part of the country before, and found the scenery amazing – very rugged and wild, the moors seeming to flow on forever and ever. My curiosity and amazement at this strange place did little to conceal my nerves, and I'm sure Mary and Colin must have realised due to the strange looks I received whilst we were on the train.

Colin had rented us a set of rooms in the local Public House for our first night in Thwaite, as it was too late in the day to travel the long distance to Misselthwaite Manor.

I couldn't help but wonder what Mother and Father would do when they found out that Mary, Colin, and I had 'disappeared'. I had never done anything so brazenly disobedient in my life (although I would have liked to[at times), and all sorts of thoughts were buzzing through my head. Would they disown me? Would they send out a search party? Would they find me and drag me back to London? I had hoped to explain everything to them in the letter that I had left behind. It had seemed like a logical idea at the time, however, in hindsight, it seemed like I had made a grave error in judgement. I couldn't help but think how they would react when they read about what William had done.

However, I would never feel as though I had done the wrong thing in leaving with Mary. I had only known her for two months, yet she had proved to be the best friend I had ever had.

I had first met Mary's cousin, Colin, almost three years ago, when he had arrived at our house in London, shortly after my thirteenth birthday. He had been a scrawny boy back then, very enthusiastic about science (in particular, Physics) and with a passion for knowledge. He had driven us all crazy with his ability to have the answer for everything, even when I suspected sometimes he was not correct.

At first, Colin had followed my older brother, William, around and seemed to worship the ground he walked on. William had majored in Science at University, and was now studying to become a doctor, like our Father. Mother had explained to me that Colin had grown up without any siblings, which was why he was so interested in spending time with William. Colin never talked much to me, and I suspect he ignored me for the most part because I was a girl.
Being born a girl certainly has it's disadvantages, I thought. While my older brother got the opportunity to study and pursue an academic career, my sister Patrica, and I were confined to the house, being schooled by a governess in how to be a lady. Our futures were confined to becoming someone's wife, and our education was tailored specifically towards attracting and retaining a young man. I recall Pat once saying to me that I had to go and make everything difficult for myself, and there was never a more difficult time in my life than when I had fallen in love with one of William's close friends – a young man named Edward St John.

'Samantha', he had whispered softly to me, one night when we were alone in the garden of my parent's house. It was in the middle of summer, and the night was warm and balmy. He had reached up to my face, and brushed a strand of dark hair away, and had then traced his fingers lightly down the side of my face. I had breathed deeply, and closed my eyes, trying to remain perfectly still – willing him to keep going, yet becoming (almost) afraid and wanting him to stop.

We met frequently after that – whenever we could manage. This was not difficult for him. He was twenty years old – much older than I. I was but fifteen. The balmy night spent in the garden became the first of a series of such meetings. Our light touches progressed to passionate embraces. When we were apart, I could think of nothing else but when we would next meet, and the minutes of the day would drag by like hours. 'My dear girl, why do you look at the clock so often?' my governess would scold, and I would see Pat looking at me quizzically. I dreampt of us being together forever, of running away to Gretna Green and getting married (my Mother would have been shocked to think of her innocent daughter thinking such scandalous thoughts, but then my parents were very naïve back then). However, none of this came to pass, because, on a cold day in early spring, Edward broke my heart.

He had become distant from me, a couple of weeks before the news broke. I had written him numerous letters, asking him when we could next meet again, and had received short, sharp replies such as 'We shall meet when my exams finish, for I am terribly busy', or worse, no reply at all. I had begun to wonder if he was in some kind of trouble, but I was soon to find out that it was worse, far worse than that.

I distinctly remember the morning I had found out. We were at home, entertaining Grandmother's bridge friends. There were around five of them, and we were seated in the sitting room, in front of the roaring fire. The maids had brought in tea and cake and I was idly looking at the clock, waiting for the morning post to come in. I was wondering if today, would bring a letter for me, that perhaps today I would find out what had been going on with Edward.
'Did you hear the news, my dear,' spoke up Mrs Emery, Grandmother's oldest friend (and the biggest gossip, in my opinion) 'that the young Mr St John is to be wed at last?'

'What, you mean William's friend?' my Grandmother had asked, her mouth full of cake.

'Why yes, “Mr Edward St John", I believe he is called,' Mrs Emery had replied 'and to the young heiress he met early in the season. They are to be wed in two week's time.'

I had gasped, and dropped my cake on the floor. My entire face drained of colour. It couldn't be true, it just couldn't!

'My dear Samantha, are you unwell, child?' my Grandmother had asked me, looking over in my direction.

'I, I've dropped my cake...I'm sorry.' I had said shakily, before leaning back in my chair. I closed my eyes briefly, feeling the world as I had known it, tearing apart before my eyes.

I could feel all the old ladies looking as me as I got up and stumbled blindly from the room. I could barely see where I was going for the tears that obstructed my view. Somehow I stumbled up to my room, flung myself down on my bed, and wept.

Later that night I had smashed my small hand held mirror in frustration and pain. It was my fault that he didn't want me, who would want such an ugly pale girl. I remember picking up one of the small jagged pieces, wanting to end it all. What future did I have now that Edward was gone? What future was there without him loving me? I had drawn the small jagged edge over the white of my skin, and then, hating myself, pressed it deeper.

I told all of this to Mary, later, but I did not go into such great detail. I was too ashamed at what had happened. My wrists to this day bear the scars of my suffering. Of course, I am sure that she had seen them, and had been curious, but she had never directly asked, for which I was grateful. Once, when we were laying in bed, she had asked me about Edward and I had told her some – not all, of what had happened. But then, I could trust her with my secret, as she was trusting me to keep hers – that she had a beau back at her home in Yorkshire – a country lad who had helped her tend one of the manor gardens.

It had all sounded so romantic, and so unlike the experiences that I had had with Edward. Her Dickon sounded so gentle and kind, patient and caring. He seemed so far removed from the general arrogance of the young men that I knew.

She had suffered greatly while she has been in London. My own brother, being the cause. William had turned out to be a vile villan, who I was ashamed to call my brother. I remember the night that I had found her – the night of our sixteenth birthday party. She had been gone for a long time, and I had begun to get angry with her. She said she'd only be gone for a few minutes, I thought to myself, and it's been almost an hour! Furiously l had left the room, and walked forcefully up the stairs to our bedroom. I had stopped when I heard the sound of Mary's sobs coming from beyond the bedroom door.

Colin and I had sat by the fireplace at the Inn in Thwaite, solemnly staring into the flickering flames. The remains of a light supper sat on the table nearby, along with an opened bottle of wine. Colin had insisted on ordering it, in order to 'steady our nerves'. Mary had gone to bed an hour previously, claiming she was exhausted. This left Colin and I alone for the first time since I had been to see him, after Mary became unwell.

Colin was leaning back into the large armchair, sitting opposite from me. His face looked weary, and there were dark circles under his eyes. We had barely slept the night before, and of course had spent many hours sitting in the train station at King's cross, waiting for the early morning train to Thwaite. The weariness had caught up with me, also, but I had wanted to speak to Colin alone, after Mary had gone to bed.

Colin however, beat me to it.

'Sam... I'm worried about Mary.'

He had said it so quietly, I had barely heard him. Colin Craven wasn't usually one to speak in whispers.

I glanced towards the door to the bedroom.

'Me too.' I had said softly.

'I know we need to get her back to Misslethwaite, Sam. But I've never seen her like this before. What happened to her...' he trailed off then, raising his hands hopelessly, lost for words.

'We're doing the right thing, Colin – in getting her home, I mean. She needs us right now, and we're here for her. Things will get better.'

'I hope so. I just feel so -'

'Helpless?' I finished.

'and guilty.' he continued. 'I should have seen what he was and ... stopped him from going near her.'

'I feel guilty too, Colin. I didn't go looking for her that night until it was too late. If I had done, perhaps none of this would have happened.'

'She is my only cousin, Sam. She is ... so dear to me.'

'I just feel so angry and upset. Colin, my own brother did this to her! My own brother!'

I could feel my voice rising, and I realised that I must have been speaking rather loudly, as Colin turned quickly and looked towards the door.

'I'm sorry...' I whispered, my eyes filling with tears. 'I ... I just feel so vile to know that he is ... my brother.' I looked away, staring into the glowing embers, wiling myself not to lose control.
I felt Colin's place his hand on my own, rather awkwardly. I supposed he wasn't used to comforting hysterical girls.

'It will all be alright, Sam, you'll see.' he said gently, as he stroked my hand. I looked up at him and noticed his agate grey eyes, which were full of concern.

'I hope so.' I had replied, feeling embarrassed that he had seen me at such a weak moment.
He reached into his pocket and took out a red handkerchief. 'Here, take this. I think you need it more than I do.'

'Thank you', I began 'I -'

But I never got to finish, as a the sound of a loud scream pierced through the still night air.

My Secret, Chapter 16

2008-03-24T13:10:00.000-07:00

My Secret – Chapter 16:
The Outcome

'Mary, calm down. I had to talk to him.' Sam was standing by the door, wringing her hands, her pale face distraught. 'He is your cousin. He deserves to know.'

I smashed another vase to the ground, fury rising and taking control.

'You knew damned well that I didn't want Colin to know. I should never have told you. Never!'
I was livid, shaking with rage, and wishing that I could tear off the dress that constricted me at my waist and throat. My despair had recently begun to turn into anger, and now it was building inside me, and I felt powerless to control it.

'Mary,' she gulped 'you're not yourself right now. If you would only listen to what I've got to say - '

'Say what?' I interjected, my voice cutting through the air like a knife. 'That he no longer wants anything to do with me because of what happened between me and his precious William?' I laughed hollowly, 'Lord knows, he probably wishes that William did more than force himself on me!'

'He wants to help you!' Sam shouted. I looked up at her, hardly believing what she had just said.
'What?' I gasped. This was unexpected, to say the least.

'He said that he thinks William's behaviour has been despicable and villainous. Mary, he wants to help you – us – if you'll have him.'

'He said that?'

'Yes Mary, he did.'

I sighed and sank to the bed, overwhelmed with relief, and felt the anger begin to dissipate.

'Yes, I do want him. If our plan is to succeed, we will need his help. Oh Sam!' I looked around surveying the room, taking in the fragments of glass and strewn flowers that littered the carpet. I looked at them in astonishment, as though they had been scattered by somebody else. I lifted my hands helplessly. Softly I said, 'I'm sorry.'

She responded only by coming to me and putting her arms around me, pulling her closely towards her. I responded to her warmth, which had been a constant source of comfort over the past week since the night of the party.

'It's alright. I'll just tell Mother that the wind blew it over.' she smiled. 'I never did like that vase, anyway.'

'Neither did I.' I whispered, and all of a sudden the two of us broke into nervous laughter. It was only for a brief moment, but it was enough.

She bent down and gathered the broken pieces in her hands, moving them to the nearby washbasin. I bent down to help her, thinking ironically of how much my life had become like the shattered vase. All at once pure and whole, and then a split second later, damaged beyond repair. I sighed, trying to push the thought out of my mind. William had done more than hurt me physically.

Luckily for me, he had departed unexpectedly the morning following the party. I hadn't known it then, as I had lain ill and feverish, but Sam had informed me of it later. It hadn't taken much for her to find out the cause of my sickness, apparently I had been groaning and talking in my sleep. When she had discovered what her brother had done it had taken all my strength to stop her from running to see her Father and telling him what had happened.

I might have stopped her from doing that, but together the two of us had come up with an even better plan.

Sam had gone to see Colin and tell him what had transpired, knowing that in order for our plan to work, we needed his help.

'So I went and spoke to him earlier today', Sam was telling me, as we sat together in our room that night. 'He was in his room and I went right in. I think he was surprised to see me as he sat straight up in his desk, and dropped his pen – and looked at me with those big grey eyes of his. I told him that I had something urgent to talk to him about and that he had to promise to keep what I was going to tell him, a secret.'

Sam's story:

'Colin', I said. 'I need to know that I can trust you.'

He had looked at me so intently then, that I thought his eyes might have almost popped out of his head.

'Trust me?' he had said, sounding confused.

'Yes, I need to be able to trust me. I have something very serious to discuss with you.'

I was worried that the poor thing felt as though it was something to do with him, some indiscretion or other that he thought he might have committed. Nonetheless, I closed the door and sat down on his bed, facing him. He had gone quite white by this stage.

'It's about your cousin. She's in a lot of trouble.'

'M-Mary?!' he had stammered, looking shocked.

I then nodded to him, with a grim expression on my face.

'Colin…something terrible has happened to her, and she needs your help.'

He had then put his head in his hands, and I had gone to him.

'What happened?' he whispered.

'William, he…. Colin…he forced himself on her.' I blurted it out quickly, then continued. 'It happened the night of the party. That's why she's been keeping to her room so much over the past few days. Colin…I think that may be why William left so suddenly the next day.'

Colin's face grew more pale, and when he spoke his voice was quiet, and trembled slightly. 'I simply can't believe this…that Will would do such a thing... Sam... please say that it isn't true, that this is some kind of trick you and Mary are playing on me.'

'For God's sake Colin Craven!' I had said, my breath exploding out angrily as I spoke. 'This is not a joke. Your cousin needs your help.'

'But William…. I thought- and he is your brother, Sam.'

'Look Colin, do you think I don't know that? And to be honest with you, he ceased being my brother when he tried to force himself on your cousin.'

I had felt close to tears at that point, drained from the events of the past few days. I had thought of you then, Mary, and how pale and thin you were growing, and I felt so sick at the thought that I was his sister. I had wanted to take Colin and shake him, and force him to understand. However, by some miracle, he did.

'You know', he said slowly 'I always did feel that there was a part of Will that I couldn't trust. I know he liked…well, there is no other way to put it – he liked his ladies.' He blushed, colour returning to his pale face. 'Earlier this year he took me to a “friend’s” residence and introduced me to some young women, whom I thought were of rather dubious character, and then asked if I - '

'Colin Craven! I do not want to hear about your dalliances with my brother.'

'Oh, I'm sorry Sam.' he said, looking up and seeing me, as though he had forgotten I was there in the room with him. His cheeks grew pinker still, and an uncomfortable silence fell between us.
'Oh never mind about that!' I said impatiently. 'Look, your cousin needs our help.'

'What are we going to do?' he asked, raising his hands hopelessly.

'We are going to make sure we keep Mary safe. Colin…. She is not faring very well and I am worried about her.'

He groaned, his voice growing serious. 'God Sam, I feel awful. I should have seen how William felt – I could have stopped him.'

'Look Colin, there is no point discussing this any further. We cannot undo this. All we can do is keep Mary safe. And you and I both know the place she needs to go for that to happen.'

'Misselthwaite.' he whispered, looking away. 'She needs to go home.'

'And that, Colin Craven, is why we need your help.'

I had moved closer to him, and lowered my voice to a whisper. 'And here is what we are going to do.'

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

'So that's what happened.' Sam finished. 'I spoke to him, and we came to an arrangement. Once he knew all the details of what happened he seemed determined to do everything in his power to help you – us, Mary. You know that I can't stay here either, not after what has happened.'

'I know. But Sam, I want to make sure you're leaving for the right reasons.'

She raised her hands and gestured around her. 'What is there here for me, Mary? If I stay it will only be a matter of time before Mother organises a match for me. What do I have to look forward to by staying here?'

I wanted to say 'your life' but she was right. There was nothing for her here. I had been in London long enough to know that. I knew that Sam was a spirited girl, and that she felt constricted and trapped with her circumstances.

'It will be dangerous, you know.' my voice sounded hollow. I was so tired. 'They might find out and stop us. And what of when we arrive at Misselthwaite? I hardly think my Uncle will welcome us with open arms.'

'He'll come around, Mary. Especially once we tell him what happened to you.'

I grimaced, the thought of telling my Uncle bringing back images from that fateful night – images I was trying desperately not to dwell on.

'What about your parents?' I said, quickly changing the subject.

'I will leave them a letter explaining everything. What William did, why we had to go, that I felt the need to accompany you, that Colin has also gone for the same reason. They will be angry, Mary, of course I know that. But sometimes you have to make people angry, in order to do the right thing.'

'You're beginning to sound like me,' I said, taking her hand in mine. 'I never did live life to please anybody else.'

She gripped my hand tightly and tried to smile, but her dark eyes showed the fear that she didn't dare to voice.

'I can't deny that I'm afraid, but I want to do this. It feels… right.'

'I'm scared, too. I haven't been home for so long, and….' The question I was so desperate to talk about remained frozen on my lips. Sam noticed my hesitation and asked me softly to go on.
I nervously drew in my breath, 'Well, its just that after what happened… when I tell Dickon that is – Oh, I don't know Sam, I just hope he still loves me, that's all.'

I let my breath out in a shaky exhale and closed my eyes, trying not to see Dickon turning away. Trying not to picture him as I had done so many times over the last week – looking at me in disgust and disbelief before walking away from me. That Dickon would be supportive of me was one of the only things that kept me going. I knew I would have to tell him…. Eventually.

'Mary, your Dickon sounds like a very noble sort of person, someone who is understanding and kind.' she paused, searching for words, and I held my breath again. 'If what you tell him doesn't make him want to go and deal to my brother, then I might just have to knock some sense into him myself!'

We both laughed at this. I had to admit - I loved Sam's sense of humour at times like these.
'I'd like to see you try!' I gasped, still laughing. 'He is a rather big lad.'

'We'll be careful. Colin knows what he is doing. I never thought before this week that I'd put so much trust in him, but Mary, your cousin is a good person. I know it. I guess I just didn't have a chance to see it before. He wants to help you.'

I smiled fondly in spite of myself, remembering the determined little boy who always got his own way. 'Yes, he is a good person, Sam. I just feel as though we've drifted apart over the last two years. I never did tell him about Dickon, either. I don't know how he'd react... you see, the three of us were always so close when we were younger.'

'You know Mary, I think he would be happy for you. I really do. Colin may seem as though he just cares for himself, but I know he cares for you very much, and just wants to see you feeling happy.'

'So he agreed on our plan?' I asked her, closing my eyes to fight back tears. I could almost feel Misselthwaite now; it seemed almost close enough to be able to touch.

'Yes, and together we've worked out all the details. They will never suspect anything. By the time they realise that we've gone, we'll be on our way. Like I said before, I'm going to leave a letter to Mother and Father explaining everything.'

'You shouldn't have to sacrifice your relationship with your parents Sam, for my account,' I said, feeling angry that it had come to this.

'Mary, they will never let me go otherwise… and I want to be with you to make sure that you come through this. I can't stay here now. I am ready to face the consequences of my actions. You needn't worry.'

'Your parents won't be happy, Sam.' In fact, I thought to myself, ‘not happy’ was probably the world's biggest understatement when it came to how they'd feel once they found out that their youngest daughter had run away.

'No,' she said slowly 'they won't be. But Mary, I need to do this. There is nothing for me here. What else am I going to do? I am not destined to live an exciting life. If Mother had her way I would no doubt be engaged already, and about to perpetuate the existence that she had. I don't want that for myself, and if getting into trouble with my parents is the sacrifice I have to make, then so be it.'

She had such a determined look in her eyes, and I didn't doubt for a moment that she meant every word. Gratitude welled up in me, that I had such a friend, who would help me out in my time of need.

'You've been so good to me, Sam…. I know I don't say things like this enough, but thank you.'

She smiled.

'You're very welcome. Now, let’s get ready for bed. We have a big day tomorrow.'

She rang the bell for Charlotte, then said softly to me, 'And don't forget, Mary, you have been such a good friend to me. Helping you in this way is the least I can do.'

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

'I don't know why William had to leave in such a hurry.' Mrs Sutherland was saying. 'He hardly mentioned where he was going.'

'You know young men, Lydia,' her Mother, the formidable Mrs Bennet replied. 'They have itchy feet. They are best left to their own devices. Besides,' she said, taking a spoonful of soup, 'didn't he say that he would be visiting Mark Lawrence’s family in Brighton?'

'Yes, he did say that. It's just that he left so abruptly Mother. It is not like him at all.'

'Hmmmph.' the elder woman said. 'He'll come back, mark my words.'

I sat at the dining table idly stirring my soup. I had barely touched my meal. The incident with William had left me without much of an appetite.

Mrs Sutherland turned her attention to me.

'Child, you have hardly eaten any of your soup.'

'I'm sorry Mrs Sutherland, I am not hungry.'

'Well, I hope your Uncle doesn't accuse us of being poor hosts when you return to him in December thin enough for the wind to blow you away.'

I tried my best to smile at her joke. 'I'm sure my appetite will have returned by then.'

I caught Colin's eye at that point, and he looked away rather guiltily. This was to be our last dinner at the Sutherland residence for a while, after all.

'It's a ladies constitution, Lydia.' remarked Mrs Bennet dryly. 'I seem to recall that you did not have a very large appetite at Miss Lennox's age.'

That moved the conversation on to other things as Mrs Sutherland began reminiscing over her youth. Usually, I would have found this irritating as she would talk on and on about the London season and the spectacular dresses, but personally, tonight I was glad for the distraction. They didn't suspect anything, and this time tomorrow I would be safely at Misselthwaite.
It was the only thing I could think about, and, I thought, the only thing that was stopping me from giving in to my weary and battered soul.

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

It was late at night and Sam and I were packing what meagre amount of clothes we could, into two small carpet bags. Silently I folded my gowns, methodically placing them in the bag. We were hoping to travel light, to avoid suspicion.

I placed a white chemise on top of my lilac dress. I was thankful to leave the peach coloured dress on it's hanger in the cupboard, although if I had had the room, I would have liked to take it to Misselthwaite and burn it.

'What should I take, Mary?' Sam whispered. 'I don't know what would be suitable for the country.'

'Just a couple of gowns, nothing fancy, Sam. Make sure you wear some sturdy walking boots, too. You won't be able to go very far in those Satin slippers.' I gestured down at her ruby clad feet.

'We will need our coats, I suppose?' she said, going to her wardrobe.

'Yes, we will. It will be cold on the moors.'

'Right. Coats, scarf, and gloves.'

She was muttering to herself, going to her wardrobe and returning with the necessary items.
I folded the last gown and then remembering, went to the dresser to retrieve my precious letters from Dickon. These I wrapped in an old chemise before tucking them firmly into the bag. I closed the latch, and fastened the buckle. It was done. I was ready to go home.

'When did Colin say we had to meet him?'

'Just past Midnight, outside the house. We figured that would be the best time to move. When everyone is likely to be asleep.'

'That makes sense.' I said. 'So we have just under two hours to wait.'

'Yes. And Mary, I cannot stress how important it is that we don't make a sound. If we were to be caught….' Sam's voice trailed off.

I nodded, aware of how serious the situation was.

'So now, all we have to do is wait. And hope that Colin sticks to his word.'

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

The time passed slowly, as it always does when you are looking forward to something. Sam and I sat in semi-darkness, near the window, our faces illuminated by the light of a single candle. We listened to the noises of the house. The sound of the servants scurrying about downstairs, of Mr and Mrs Sullivan retiring to their rooms. The creaking of bedsprings, the drip of taps, the empty sound of the night outside our window.

My heart was beating fast and hard. I felt tensed with anticipation at the thought of what we were about to do. Sam was obviously feeling apprehensive, and every few minutes would get up to check her packing and had begun to wring her hands as she sat in her chair by the window, which I had come to know as a sign of nervousness.

Finally, the clock in the hallway dimly resounded midnight.

'It is time.' I whispered, easing myself up out of the chair.

'Yes,' she replied, looking as though she was about to faint. Unsteadily she got to her feet. Her face seemed paler than usual and I wondered if she really would go through with our plan.

'Are you sure you want to do this?' I asked.

'I'm sure.' she nodded affirmatively, making her way over to the door where her carpet bag sat.

'Then let's go.' I said quietly, and pushed open the door.

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

Colin was waiting for us when we finally made our way outside. His pale face made even paler by the light of the full moon. I shivered slightly in the crisp night air, but felt more alive than I had in weeks. I looked over at Sam. She was buttoning up her coat and looking apprehensive. I went over to Colin, who was standing away from the road.

'Will the carriage be here soon?'

He nodded. 'It should be. I arranged for it to arrive just after midnight.'

If he was nervous, I couldn't tell. He spoke confidently enough. I was sure he was holding something back from me though, but guessed I would find out what it was soon enough.

'Come, let’s walk a little further down the street.' whispered Sam, coming up to us. 'We may well get spotted here.'

The three of us walked a little distance away, none of us saying anything to the other. I could feel the excitement of the night's events coursing through my veins, and for the first time in weeks I felt really, truly alive – and awake.

Until now, the plan had seemed just that – a plan. Something that didn't seem to have a firm base in reality. Now that it was really happening I could hardly believe it, but excitement grew inside me at the thought that this time tomorrow night, I would be home.

I wondered how Dickon would react upon seeing me. It had been so long, it seemed, since I had left. I pondered on this and came to the conclusion that it wasn't the length of time that I had been away, but the fact that so much had happened within that time.

I couldn't wait to leave it all behind and push the encounter with William further away from my conscious thoughts. My only thought of him now was that I wanted him to pay for what he had done to me. Numerous ideas had crossed my mind since that fateful night, but I knew that once I was home I would be able to devise the right kind of punishment for him. Oh yes, I thought to myself. He will suffer for what he has done.

We stopped further down the street and stood, silently, in the cool night air. Every single noise seemed enhanced in the stillness of the night, and I impatiently wondered where the cab was. I wish it would hurry, I thought to myself, sneaking furtive glances back up at the red brick facade of the Sutherland's large house. Were Colin and Sam growing as nervous as I? If they were, they didn't show it.

At last, the steady sound of hoof beats told us that it had come.

'Quick,' muttered Colin, as the cab pulled up beside us. We opened the door and got inside the dimly lit interior, while Colin spoke to the driver. Then he swung himself up and joined us inside.

The inside of the cab smelt damp, the leather seats ripped and torn in places. But I didn't care about any of that; I was on my way home. I looked up and saw Sam smiling nervously at me from across the seats. 'It's finally happening, Mary.' she said softly. She then turned to Colin who was seated at her left. 'Colin Craven, you're a genius!'

My cousin turned a darker shade of pink. 'It was nothing, really. All I did was organize the cab.'

'I think what Sam's trying to say is that we couldn't have done it without your help, Cousin.' I said warmly, feeling the animosity I had felt for him over the last month slowly slipping away.

'Don't go giving him a big head, Mary!' Sam said playfully, and we all laughed.

I looked at Colin, at his face breaking into a grin, and for the first time in so long, saw the young boy he had once been, who had been healed by the secret garden. Perhaps things would work out, after all. For all of us.

My Secret, Chapter 15

2008-03-24T13:01:00.000-07:00

Chapter 15:
Trying to hold on

It all seemed so absurd now, so very absurd. I was in tears again, and I knew I would have to face them all sooner or later. I couldn't hide away in here forever. With trembling hands I picked up a pen, pausing only to wet the nib with ink.

Dear Dickon, I wrote.

I have something I need to tell you, and I'm afraid it cannot wait until I come home. I need to tell someone now, otherwise I feel as though I'll go insane. More than anything I wish you were here now. I feel so lost and alone and -

I shivered as a memory flashed through my mind. It was earlier in the evening and I was standing in the bedroom, and he was coming towards me... his large frame looming closer through the darkness.

- and scared. I feel scared, Dickon, and I can't remember when I last felt this afraid. I have to get out of here, I have to go!
It all started out as expected. Remember that party I had told you about? the birthday party for Samantha and I? well it all began as one would expect – the socialising, the speeches, being introduced to numerous people ... I hadn't expected anything like this to happen. Oh Dickon, where do I begin?

Downstairs, through the doorway I could hear the sounds of music and merriment, of people talking and laughing. I didn't feel as though I would ever laugh again. I couldn't stop shaking, my happiness feeling as though it had dissippated into the blackness of the night outside. I picked up the pen and began to write.

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

Five hours hence...

“Girls, you'll be expected downstairs very shortly.”

Mrs Sutherland's voice rose up the stairs to meet us. Sam and I were in our bedroom, giggling over the thought of the party that was soon to commence, making the final adjustments to our appearance.

“Mary, I simply know I look frightful!” Sam said, turning from the large mirror that adorned our dressing table. She had a hairpin between her teeth and her brow was furrowed. “Look at this dress!” she pulled up the fabric and frowned. “Lilac just isn't my colour at all!”

I looked down at my own dress (in a self-conscious imitation of Sam, I had no doubt), purchased a few days before. A shade of pale peach, with short sleeves and a tiny waist - which was achieved only by the severest tight lacing. It really was a beautiful dress, complete with bead work on the bodice and flowing skirts. The dressmaker of course, had explained that the lack of breath from the tight lacing was a sacrifice the wearer of the dress had no choice but to make. I was not used to having my movements so constricted, and longed for the night to end so that I could loosen my corset and take a deep breath.

“I hear you Sam, but there really isn't anything we can do about it now. Besides, I think the colour suits you. I don't know why you worry so much.”

“I worry because I know that I look an absolute fright! and everyone is going to be here tonight, staring and pointing. Don't you realise we're going to be the centre of attention and everyone is going to want to talk to us? oh, I wish I'd been able to convince Mother to buy me the red dress instead.”

The red dress she was speaking of was one Mrs Sutherland had promptly turned her nose up at, deeming it 'not suitable' for young ladies – which no doubt had something to do with the plunging neckline of the gown.

I reached up and gently took the hairpin out of her mouth, pinning it up in her hair, and soothing back a loose tendril. She smiled nervously at me and I took her hands in mine.

“There is nothing to worry about.” I said, gripping her hands tightly and looking directly into her dark eyes. “You look beautiful, Sam. And if I hear any more complaints I'm going to refuse to come downstairs and you'll have to face the whole party yourself.”

She giggled, seeming for the while, to relax a little.

“Why don't we just go downstairs and get the whole thing over with?” I said, taking a moment to look at her earnestly, although my voice was not without humour. I for one was looking forward to the end of the party, and being able to steal a few minutes away at the end of the night to pen some more lines to Dickon.

“Well... as long as you promise not to leave me alone with Grandmother's bridge friends. They are such a bore!”

I smiled inwardly, thinking of Sam surrounded by old ladies with disapproving looks in their eyes. Thank god she wasn't allowed to get that red dress, I thought, although I would have loved to see the reaction it would undoubtedly have provoked.

“I'm sure that can be arranged. Come on, let's go downstairs together and dazzle them with our youth and brilliance!” I took her hand and lead her towards the door. “They won't know what's hit them!”

She seemed to relax and allowed me to lead her from the bedroom. I gripped her hand tightly in mine, feeling the warmth of her skin steal through the satin gloves she wore. I breathed a sigh of relief. I had got through the entire day without once having to look at her scars.

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

We were greeted to the sight of the house magically transformed. I gasped as we walked downstairs. It was like walking into a magical fairyland. All through the large hallway, lamps were lit, casting a soft glow over the paintings and sculptures that adorned the Sutherland's hallway. Fresh flowers had been placed strategically in vases, their scent filling the air with perfume. We reached the sitting room to find it full of people – most of whom I had never met. We were greeted by a smile from William, who was standing with a group of young men, and an admiring Colin who seemed hooked on William's every word, bursting with rambancious laughter whenever William made a witty comment.

'Well, don't the two of you look lovely', he said. 'I hardly recognised you, little sister. And Miss Lennox, you look lovelier than ever.' He reached down and took my hand and kissed it.

'Perhaps later in the evening you will allow me to escort you in a dance?' I blushed furiously, unused to the attention. I looked up at Sam for advice, but she was busy talking to one of William's friends, laughing, and seemingly for the moment over her previous self consciousness.

'I don't see why I can't.' I said eventually. 'Assuming you know how to dance, of course.'

I paused, feeling a little silly. Of course William would know how to dance. I swallowed and looked up at him. 'you may have to teach me. I don't have much experience with dancing... we ah... didn't do much of that at Misselthwaite.'

'I can assure you it would be my pleasure to teach you.' he said, softly, holding my gaze in his until I tore my eyes away.

The music had started up again, led by the small orchestra in the corner of the room. We had been at the party for almost two hours, and within that time had been introduced to numerous friends of the Sutherland's, and had partaken in cutting our birthday cake – a large extravagant thing, decorated with white icing and flowers. Mrs Sutherland had organised a photographer to be present, and he asked us to pause with our hands on the knife while he took our photo. We stood together, smiling, while our smiles were captured in time. The flash of the camera went off, illuminating our faces and everyone clapped. There was a particularly enthusiastic display from William and his friends, who were standing towards the back of the room.

Now everyone was pairing off and beginning to dance, and as I stood speaking to Sam and some of Mrs Sutherland's friends, I noticed William beginning to make his way over towards us. He seemed to be a little unsteady on his feet, and his smile was wide, spreading over his face as he saw me.

'The lovely Miss Lennox!', he said bowing. 'May I have the pleasure of a dance?'

I giggled slightly to see him bowing in front of me. 'I'm afraid you will have to show me the steps. I do not know how to dance.'

'Certainly – it would be my pleasure.' he held out his arm and looked at me expectantly. I took it, and together we walked towards the dance floor.

When we reached the crowd of people, moving in time to the music, he took my hands in his.
'Now, you put one hand on my waist like this, and the other on my shoulder. Now simply follow me in time to the music.'

'You make it sound so easy.' I commented, smiling.

'That's because it is easy.' he replied, placing one hand on the small of my back. With the other firmly on my shoulder, he pulled me closer towards him and we began to move to the music.
I felt rather odd at being pulled towards him – I had not been this close to a man since Dickon, and I felt a little self conscious. I could feel his hand firmly on my back, and for the first time wondered about his motives when he had asked me to dance. However, it was only a fleeting thought and I was sure he viewed me as nothing more than a friend of the family – and thought of me in the same way I thought of him. Besides, we had rarely ever had a chance to speak before, and of all the Sutherlands I felt as though I knew him the least. I was pleased he was teaching me how to dance, but at the same time I was looking forward to the dance ending and getting back to Sam. I glanced over to where she was standing and she waved at me, smiling. I smiled back at her, then she turned back to the conversation. I heard one of Mrs Sutherland's friends laughing. Sam must have said something funny, I thought, knowing her and her sarcastic sense of humour. I had no doubt that she was as uncomfortable with the entire event as I was.

'You dance beautifully... Mary.' he said, leaning down to whisper into my ear. 'I find it hard to believe that you didn't know how.'

I couldn't think of a proper response, and something about his tone made me blush.

'Thank you', I mumbled in response, not knowing what else to say. He continued to whirl me around the room. Around us, brightly clothed women were moving, their hair and dress glittering like diamonds. He whirled me around so fast that I almost shrieked. Breaking away, I stopped to catch my breath and then began to laugh.

'I didn't know dancing could be this exhausting!' I exclaimed.

'Come on!' he replied, teasingly. 'Surely you can't be tired yet? we've only been dancing for five minutes!'

He pulled me back into his arms, spinning me towards the centre of the ballroom floor.

'It is so loud in here...' he said, trailing off, looking over my shoulder. We had neared the orchestra and I could barely hear him as he said 'perhaps we should go somewhere... quieter... just the two of us.'

'I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch what you said.' I answered loudly, feeling suddenly nervous at the thought of being alone with him. All of a sudden I wanted nothing more than to head back to Sam, who was still waiting for me with Mrs Sutherland's friends.

He leaned over and spoke into my ear, and I smelt the alcohol on his breath. 'I said, perhaps we should go somewhere where we can be... alone.'

'I...But Sam is waiting for me. I promised her I wouldn't leave her alone for too long.'

I felt him stiffen in my arms, but all he said was 'of course, it wouldn't do to take you away from your party now, would it?'

We danced on in silence, until the song had finished, and I used the opportunity to break away from him.

'Thank you for teaching me how to dance.' I said, giving him what I hoped to be a dazzling smile. 'but I really must return to Sam now.'

'I cannot tempt you to join me for another?'

'No, but thank you all the same.'

He shrugged. 'As you wish'.

He offered his arm to me and I placed my own through it, and he led me away from the dance floor, back to the raucous group of women that Sam had been entertaining.

'Thank you for the dance, it was a pleasure', he said, and then departed without saying another word.

'Ah Mary! thank god', Sam whispered loudly, slipping my arm into hers.

I glanced back towards William, once more, and saw him now standing silently with his friends, a whiskey tumbler in his hand. He quickly downed the amber liquid with a grimace and then stood, eyeing me silently. I felt uneasy and quickly turned away, wondering why I suddenly felt as though I had done something to upset him.

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

“I'll be right back, Sam,” I whispered to her.

“I'll hold you to your word.” she murmured to me, before turning back to her Grandmother's friends.

I made my way quickly out of the room, needing to be alone. All night I had been conversing and making small talk with various friends of the Sutherlands. I felt exhausted, and in need of a few quiet moments to myself.

The stairway was empty, and I headed slowly upstairs to our bedroom, pausing every so often to catch my breath, cursing at the tight lacing of my gown. Not only did it make breathing difficult, but it made it virtually impossible to move anywhere with great haste. I sighed with anticipation at the thought of removing it, wondering if my ribs would ever sufficiently recover.
What would you make of all this, Dickon? I wondered as I entered our bedroom. All the guests, all the society beauties and the flowers and crystal goblets? I sighed, knowing where I would rather be. Safe with Dickon on the Moor, with the only fragrance being that of the heather in bloom.

It was dark inside, save for the dim light of a candle that we had lit earlier. I made my way over to the dresser and reached inside for the handful of letters that Dickon had sent to me. Reaching down into the bottom of the drawer I was surprised to realise that they were not there. Frowning I searched again with my hand, feeling a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I froze as I heard the sound of a low chuckle coming from behind me. I scarcely dared to move, but forced myself to turn around, hoping that I'd just imagined it. My blood ran cold with terror when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw William, standing in the darkness, his form outlined by the weak candlelight.

'Looking for something?' he slurred. Still shocked I glanced down and saw that he was holding my treasured letters from Dickon in his outstretched hand, with a malicious grin spread across his features.

'What are you doing here?' I whispered, moving further back into my seat, all of my instincts telling me to run.

'I got bored with your party.' he snapped. 'and came up here to see what the two of you have been up to. Little did I realise what an interesting discovery I would make.'

'How dare you!' I said softly. 'You've been looking through my things. Those letters are private.'

'So I see,' he chuckled, holding out one of the letters. He cleared his throat: 'My dear Mary, I ache to see you, to hold you in my arms. Every day without you feels like an eternity....' lord, this reads just like those romance novels my dear sisters are always burying their heads in.' He laughed 'and to top it all off, it is from none other than the garden boy himself, the infamous Dickon! oh wouldn't my parents love to know who you've been corresponding with – and being quite intimate with, by the sounds of it.'

I froze as he made his way towards me. 'You've got no right to be here.' I said, trying to sound braver than I felt. I began to tremble, with both anger and fear. 'Those letters are private and are none of your business.'

'Oh I think you're mistaken.' he replied silkily, 'I know your secret, and I'm sure you wouldn't want it to end up in the wrong hands...' he shook his head in a parody of sympathy. 'Dear me, I'd hate to think what your uncle would have to say about this. I'm sure he couldn't imagine his innocent young niece capable of such improper behaviour.'

'Get out.' I said, my voice shaking. 'Get out right now!'

'You know, I don't think that I will.' He slurred. 'I think you and I have some unfinished business to attend to.'

'I don't know what you're talking about.' I said, and got up off the seat and straightened up, my heart pounding. 'Get out of this room or I'll -'

'Or you'll what?' he smirked, edging closer to me. 'Call my parents, my sister? what do you think they will think of you when they discover you in such a compromising position? especially after I tell them that it was you who seduced me and begged me to come up here with you.'

'They'd never believe that!' I almost shouted at him, feeling tears welling up in my eyes. 'I'm sure they're all aware of what a cad you are!'

'But I've no doubt they would believe my word over yours... especially when they discover the nature of your relationship with that gardening boy.' he spat, anger contorting his features into ugliness. 'and to think, all that time I thought you wanted me – when it was him you were thinking about, pining away after. You come into our family and lead me on – flirt with me all night long at the party, and then I discover that you already have a little paramour.' He strode quickly over to me and I backed away, feeling more frightened than I ever had in my life. I made towards the doorway, but he grabbed hold of my arm, roughly pulling me towards him.

'Now, now, my lovely. That will never do.' I struggled to break free of his grip, but felt him pull me tighter towards him, pressing me up against his body. He was tall, much taller than I was, and strong. 'I think I might need to teach you a lesson – although you are no doubt already well educated in the subject.' I cried out and struggled more fiercely as he reached his head down to kiss me. He brutally and forcefully pulled me into an embrace, the smell of alcohol strong and overpowering. I gasped when he finally broke free, and catching him unawares, slapped him hard across the face.

'You little bitch,' he spat, his features contorting with anger. 'you'll pay for that.'

We struggled together, he grasped my wrists painfully, caught me off balance, and threw me down on the bed. I struggled valiantly against him, but he was too strong. He pinned me down beneath him, leaving me struggling to breathe. Tears streaked down my face, as I gulped back sobs. My pleas for him to release me went unheard as he pushed my dress up and thrust himself between me.

'I think it's time for you to learn what happens when you play with fire.' he whispered cruelly.

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

'Mary, Mary? are you in there? is everything alright?'

I heard the door slowly creak open, and a few seconds later Sam's anxious face appeared.

'There you are. I knew you wanted to be alone for a while, but you've been gone an awfully long time and I've been wondering where you were. What have you - ' Her voice cut off sharply as she came closer and noticed me sprawled out on the bed. Taking in my tear-stained face, tussled hair and clothing she quickly came over and took my hand. 'Mary! what happened? oh Mary, what's wrong?'

The sobs within my throat rose up, which made replying impossible. Instead I reached over and pulled her towards me, my despair washing over me in waves.

'He, He...'

'Who did this to you, Mary?' Sam said softly.

'I... I can't talk about it.' I finished. 'Just please go down and make my excuses to everyone ... please Sam...'

'I don't want to leave you!' she said, 'look at you! something awful has happened... oh Mary, please tell me what it is.'

'I can't Sam', I cried, 'Just go please.'

She finally left, after promising that she would come back as soon as she could. As soon as she left I got up, wincing from the pain that seemed to come from deep inside me, and locked the door, pure fear sweeping over me at the thought of him returning. I walked over to the mirror, still feeling as though this was just a nightmare that I would wake up from. I would open my eyes and it would be morning, and I would be in my bedroom at Misselthwaite, and all of this would just be a bad dream. It had to be, what just happened couldn't have happened. In shock I looked into the mirror at the tear-stained face of the stranger staring back at me. My hair, which had been so neatly pinned and decorated was dishevelled, and my gown was slightly torn in places and some of the beadwork had become loose. I sat down at the dressing table, and without thinking about it, picked up a fresh sheet of paper and pen, and began writing to the one person I knew I could trust, pausing only to wipe away rogue tears.

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

'Miss Lennox is indisposed.' I heard Sam say to Charlotte, as she stood in the doorway. 'I will help her to undress tonight.'

Her voice came to me like the whisper of someone across the distance of a vast ocean. I was laying in bed, still fully dressed, my mind receding. I felt as though I was sinking further and further down, into a darkness that was all encompassing.

Soft hands found me and stroked my feverish forehead. 'Shhhhh...' Sam whispered, slowly pulling me up and coming behind me to unbutton my gown. I felt her eyes taking in the rips and tears, but she said nothing. She pushed my gown down and set about loosening the strings of my corset. 'Does that feel better?' she asked softly. I couldn't answer but nodded a reply, holding my hands stiffly at my side. I felt incapable of moving, and patiently, Sam held up my nightgown, and gently slipped it over my head. I poked my arms through, automated motions that seemed to have very little direction from me. Quietly, she lead me towards the bed we now shared and got in beside me, reaching out her arm and pulling me towards her. At that point I gave in and sobbed. I cried for Dickon, for my home, and for my loss of innocence, knowing that things could never be the same ever again.

My Secret, Chapter 14

2008-03-24T12:56:00.000-07:00

Chapter 14:
When the rain comes...

‘I knew that I’d find you here.’

Summer had come to the garden, and it lay before me, bright and green – and alive. The leaves of the plants glistened with early morning dew, which shone like pearls and sparkled brighter than diamonds. The breeze that swirled around me was warm, with the promise of a long, languid day stretching ahead.

The young man who stood facing me, with his arms resting on his spade, laughed.

‘Aye! tha’ knows I canna stay awa’ for too long!’

I moved closer towards him, eyeing him coyly, the warm wind gently blowing the skirts of my summer dress around my bare legs.

‘Away from the garden, Dickon?’

‘Nay, tis’ not the garden that keeps me here, Miss Mary.’

We came together then, and he clasped me in his arms, before leaning down to kiss me fully and passionately. I tasted the moor in his kiss, the wild sweet taste in the roughness of him. It left me breathless.

When we finally broke apart I spoke, my voice full of emotion. ‘I’ve missed you so much, Dickon’.

His eyes were a vivid blue, the same colour as the sky on a cloudless day in the heat of midsummer. They sparkled with life and happiness, mesmerizing me, pulling me in. ‘We will live forever’, his eyes were saying to me. I smiled through the tears that I now felt, coursing down my cheeks.

He drew me tightly against him, into his warm chest. I could smell freshly dug dirt and perspiration. I felt him stroking my back and my hair, and I leaned into him, relaxing completely, breathing in the warm scent of him. He felt like part of the earth – full of goodness like the freshly dug dirt and warm sunlight. Like a child of the soil.

‘I missed you Lass.’ he was murmering to me. ‘Sometimes I didn’t know how I would stand it, I missed you so much. And here you are now……. I can scarcely believe it.’

‘I’m just so glad to be home, Dickon. So glad.’

The air was thick with the scent of Jasmine and Roses, and he lead me over to the cool shade of the large apple tree. We sat down under the tree, together on the lush green grass. I reached for him once I sat down, and he leant over me, entwining his arms around me, softly kissing me. I leaned back on the lush carpet of grass and sighed in ecstasy. ‘Oh Dickon, please don’t stop.’

But something was wrong.

The quality of the light had dimmed, I could feel it, even through my closed eyes. Its going to rain, I thought. The rain will come. I stopped kissing Dickon and sat up. He must have sensed my anxiety because he also sat up, and looked out from underneath the leafy branches that gave us shelter.

Outside, the sky had darkened, and the brilliant blue was now being replaced by clouds of a dull, dark gray. I felt a shiver run down my spine, and a sudden ominous feeling. The sound of thunder clapped high over head, and then the sound of rain beginning to fall on freshly dug earth.

‘Some say there are spirits that bring th’ rain.’ Dickon was saying. He sounded distant and far away, and I noticed him staring at something in the corner of the garden.

Amid the torrent of rain and wind, stood a pale dark haired girl. The rain had plastered her long black hair and her dress to her body, but she stood motionless, then turned her expressionless face towards us and reached out her arms. I felt an icy chill of terror run through my body and my heart thumped loudly in my chest.

‘I must go t’ her.’ Dickon said, ‘she needs me.’

I grabbed his arm. ‘No Dickon! don’t go, please don’t go!’

‘But I must.’ he replied simply. ‘For she is calling to me.’

I was seized by a sudden urge to run, to get as far away as I could. The wraith that stood amidst the garden, white and pale against the backdrop of the sky, was reaching out her arms towards Dickon, as though she was drawing him in. In horror I saw that one of her wrists dripped with scarlet blood. Out of her open mouth came a toneless sound. Dickon got up and started towards her through the pouring rain, like a man in a dream.

‘No Dickon!!’ I screamed. ‘Come back! please don’t go!’

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

‘Mary, wake up, you’re screaming!’

Sam’s concerned voice broke into my muddled and frightened thoughts. I felt the heavy weight of blankets covering me, and the warmth of Sam’s body next to mine. My head was resting on the same feather pillow it had been on for the last two weeks. I wasn’t at Misselthwaite, I realized dismally. None of that just happened. I was still in London, and I was lying in bed next to Samantha Sutherland. I felt despair and anxiety wash over me.

‘You must have had a nightmare, you were screaming and calling out.’ she said. ‘But you’re safe now, Mary.’

I shivered in remembrance of the horrid dream that had seemed so real. I felt myself shaking with fear, still unable to speak. I could only picture Dickon in my mind, and the vision of him heading towards the pale girl, whose face was awash with tragedy. I felt so confused, and near tears.

‘I……I ….’ I began, ‘Oh Sam, I just had the most terrible nightmare.’ and then I burst into tears.
She reached out her arms for me, and drew me close to her, holding me while I cried and shook with a lingering fear. The warmth and darkness of the bed comforted me somewhat, and after a time I stopped crying, although I still shook. Our room was dark, but I could see the faint edges of daybreak begin to lighten the curtains that covered the large bay windows. It wouldn’t be long now before the sun rose, I knew. I lay in Sam’s arms and thought about the coming day, feeling myself sinking further and further into depression. Today was the day of my sixteenth birthday, and it was the first birthday I had spent away from home in six years.

The dream had been so real and vivid, and it had felt as though Dickon and I were together again. I shuddered again thinking about the strange girl with dark hair, and how she had called Dickon to her. I could still see her in my mind’s eye – drenched with rain, her dark hair hanging long and lank against her face, her white dress plastered to her body, and her arms outstretched and bloody, calling Dickon towards her.

Presently Sam fell back asleep, but I lay awake beside her, thinking about the dream. It had all felt so real. I got up and pulled the curtains, to see what the day was like outside. It was cold and grey outside the window, endless streets drenched in rain, row upon row of red brick buildings. The occasional carriage making its way slowly down the muddy road. The sky was iron gray in the dawn, and it was raining softly. I walked over to the dresser, and feeling the need to feel Dickon close to me, retrieved his latest letter.

‘I wish I could be there to help you celebrate your birthday’, he had written ‘but I know we’ll celebrate it together when you return.’

When I return……. it all seemed so far away now. I went back to the window and stared down the misty gray streets. It would soon be time to rise. Charlotte would come in to help us get dressed and there would be a whole day to live through – not to mention the birthday party to be held later that evening. Everything seemed so pointless and hollow, and more than anything, I longed to be back at Misselthwaite, and back in Dickon’s arms.

I looked over towards the bed that I shared with Sam and noticed her sprawled out languidly in the middle of the large bed. Her arms were raised above her slightly, and her dark lashes were closed. Her dark hair framed her face as she slept. I noticed that her nightgown was slipping down one of her arms, revealing the pale white flesh of her arms – and something more.

I crept closer to the bed, wondering if I had really seen what I thought I had. Slowly I moved towards Sam, quietly, as to not wake her. I carefully moved so I could see her arm, and gasped at what I saw.

For down her left arm, was the ugly scar of a strong, diagonal cut.

Her eyes fluttered open.

'Ah Mary, ' she said, her voice thick with sleep. 'Is it time to get up already?' She yawned and pulled her arms down under the blankets. 'I can't remember it being this cold for a long time. Why did you get out of bed?'

'Ah... I just woke up, that's all. I wanted to see what the day was like outside.'

'You should come back to bed.' She scolded. 'You'll catch a chill standing there in your nightdress.'

I felt so confused. Had I really seen what I thought I had? why would Sam have such a large scar down her wrist? I struggled to think of an accident which could have caused it. I couldn't remember her mentioning anything to me about it. I made up my mind to ask her about it when the moment presented itself.

'It's the day of our party, Mary.' She said softly. 'I hope you're in the mood to socialise.'

I didn't reply, but lay down in bed, with the covers pulled tightly around me, listening to the rain falling outside, the strange girl in my dream still haunting my mind, along with the unanswered question of Sam's scar...

My Secret, Chapter 13

2008-03-24T12:47:00.000-07:00

Chapter 13:
A letter from home and Sam's revelation

'What are you writing, Mary?'

I turned around from the letter I was penning to Dickon, and saw William, staring at me from across the room.

'Oh... nothing important... just a letter to my Uncle.'

I hastily covered the letter with a book that was lying nearby and turned around to give William an innocuous smile. He smiled back at me, then said:

'Well, surely it's nothing to be embarrassed about! but I don't recall Colin writing so many letters to Lord Craven when he arrived here – and he is his son!'

'Er...I just wanted him to know how I've been settling in... and the preparations for the party this weekend.'

Sam nudged me and gave me a small smile. She was sitting next to me, engaged in embroidery. I still didn't know where she got the patience to pursue something so tedious and time-consuming.

'Ah yes, the party!' William exclaimed, coming over to sit next to us. 'We haven't had a good gathering here in a long time, have we Sam?'

'Not since the last time you invited your University friends over.' Sam said drily.

'And Mary, Mother was not impressed!' laughed Pat, who had also come over to join us.

'Although,' laughed William 'I think your party is going to be a more sedate affair... hmm... lets see... Mother's old cronies will be attending, Grandmother's bridge friends, no doubt...I don't suppose there will be anyone your own age coming along?'

'What do you think, big brother?' asked Sam, raising an eyebrow and looking up from her embroidery.

'The possibility of that happening? I'd say “slim to none”.

'Exactly.'

'Which is why I've taken it upon myself to invite a couple of ... friends over, to participate in the festivities.'

Pat groaned. 'Will – remember what happened last time?'

'Have you asked Mother?' Sam added. 'I can't imagine she'd be too keen on you bringing your friends into the house again.'

'My dear sisters, have some faith in your older brother! the young men who will be attending will be only the most respectable indeed. Besides, it would be a sad state of affairs if there were to be no eligible bachaelors attending to admire my little sister at her coming out party? not to mention the beautiful Miss Lennox?'

'Fine.' said Sam, shrugging. 'But just remember, it was your idea. And don't go trying to pin anything on us if things go haywire and Mother disapproves.'

'You worry too much, little sister. What could possibly go wrong?'

'Well, for one thing - '

'Ah William! there you are!' Colin came rushing into the room, his cheeks rosy. 'I've been looking for you everywhere.'

'I've just been entertaining your lovely cousin, Colin. Although I think I may have interrupted her letter writing.'

Colin turned to look at me quizzically.

'You... writing letters, Mary! you barely wrote me a page when I was away from Misselthwaite all that time.'

'She's writing to your Father.' William explained.

'To Father?' Colin queried.

'Yes Colin – and really, I don't see why it should come as such a surprise. Unlike you, he actually writes back to me!' I added quickly.

'Hmmph. Well, it will give him something to do with his time, I suppose. Come on William, I need you upstairs. I need your advice on one of my assignments.'

I breathed a sigh of relief as the two of them exited the room. The last thing I needed was Colin discovering the nature of my letter writing... I hadn't thought much about what Colin would think about Dickon and I, but I knew he wouldn't look upon the match with favour. It wasn't that Colin didn't like and respect Dickon, but he had very clear ideas about class boundaries and I knew he had always considered Dickon as someone not quite in our league.

'Thank god they're gone.' said Sam, turning from her embroidery to look at me.' I can only take so much of those two when they're together.'

Pat laughed. 'You've read my mind exactly. So tell me, how are your lessons going with Miss Godfrey?'

I laughed, thinking of Miss Godfrey and her disapproving looks towards Sam and I as we whispered together when her back was turned.

'Oh you know, the same as usual. Really Pat, I simply cannot wait until I am your age and am finished with schooling forever.'

'Although then Mother will be eyeing up prospective husbands for you, Sam, which is even more tedious, believe me.'

'You know,' I said 'This makes me almost glad that I don't have a Mother. I couldn't stand the thought of someone organising a match for me. Marrying me off to some old man I couldn't stand!'

'My thoughts exactly.' Sam murmered. 'You should see some of the prospective 'husbands' she invites around for Pat. Talk about a boring lot!'

'Although William's friends are hardly what I'd consider eligible, either.' Pat said, frowning. 'Honestly, how does one find a good husband these days? I fear we are all doomed to a life of spinsterhood, girls.'

'Not all of us, Patricia.' Sam said slyly, giving me a nudge.

I turned sharply to look at Sam, but she was still impassively engaged in her embroidery. She wouldn't mention anything, would she? not after she had promised. I felt a sudden flare of anger and worse, fear.

Pat turned around to look inquisitively at her sister.

'And just who would you be referring to, Samantha?'

'Oh, no one.' Sam said vaguely, returning to her embroidery. 'Forget I said anything.'

She turned to look at me, once her sister had left the room, her green eyes shining darkly.
'And don't worry Mary, your secret is safe with me.'

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

Dear Mary, The letter said.

Firstly, many happy returns for your sixteenth birthday! please find enclosed a little gift from us all. We hope that the Sutherlands give you a sixteenth birthday to remember. Dickon tells me that Mrs Sutherland is organising a huge party in your honour. Oh Mary, how exciting! we wish you all the best for your big day.

We are all missing you here at home, and are hoping that things are going as well as can be expected with the Sutherland family. Lord Craven is well, and in good health, although I hear that he misses your company. The rest of the staff are doing well at Misselthwaite, and we're all doing well here. The wee ones are keeping me company, and Mother has come to visit, as has Dickon. We can hardly wait to see you again when you return at Christmas.
Dickon has asked me to enclose a personal letter of his within this one, so I hope you find it intact. He asks his forgiveness for any spelling mistakes he might have made, poor lad!
Take care, and give our love to Colin,

Love as always, Martha.

I opened the envelope further and found a little piece of paper under Martha's letter. My heart beat in excitement to see that it was covered in Dickon's scrawly, messy, writing.

My lovely Mary,

I hope this letter finds you well, and that you are being looked after by the Sutherland family. Thank you for your letter. It sounds as though you are finding your feet there and settling in well. I'm glad to hear that Colin is in good spirits and that his studies are going well.
I cannot tell you how much I wish I could help you celebrate your birthday. Just remmamber, although I am not there in person, I will be with you in spirit and thinking of you.

As I read further, my heart began to ache. I longed to hear his voice, to see him smile. I struggled to control the feelings I felt within me.

Things are going well here at Misselthwaite, well as can be expected given it's the beginning of winter. Ben has me hard at work in the garden each day, clearing away the old growth, pruning the trees and the rest of it. He keeps telling me that this winter he is going to make a man out of me! However, I've managed to spend a little time in our garden – mainly pruning the roses and doing the odd bit of weeding. I like this time of year, and remember what you always said about the garden going to sleep, only to wake to the coming of the spring when it emerges green and fresh and full of life. The only thing that would make life complete would be having you here. I miss you greatly, and cannot wait to see you when you return at Christmas. I will be counting down the days till then.

With much love, Dickon.

I brought his letter to my lips and kissed it lightly, closing my eyes. 'Dickon, I do love you so.' I whispered to myself, before folding it up tidily, and placing it in the bottom of my suitcase. 'I will be home soon, home to you, I promise.'

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

'Charlotte, you're pulling my hair!' Sam exclaimed, as she sat in front of the mirror, clad in her nightdress. She was frowning into the mirror on her dressing table, watching as Charlotte brushed her long, dark, tresses.

'I'm sorry Miss, I'm trying to be careful.' Charlotte stammered, flushing deeply.

'Oh, never mind. I'll finish it myself. You may go now, Charlotte.'

Once Charlotte had left, Sam turned to look at me, her green eyes blazing with anger.

'I swear, if that girl pulls my hair like that one more time...'

I inwardly rolled my eyes. This was the fourth night in a row that Sam had complained about Charlotte's hairdressing skills, and I was growing a little weary of it.

'Here, let me finish your hair.' I offered, resisting the urge to sigh in exasperation. Sam could be quite tempermental at times, I had noticed. At first when I had met her I had thought her sweet and naïve. Now I knew there was much more to her than first met the eye. Much more.

I began brushing her long, dark hair. Marvelling at it's glossy colour as I did so. Sam always kept it immaculately brushed and with her piercing green eyes, it only added to her exotic beauty. But she was obviously not feeling beautiful tonight, as she stared into the mirror and groaned in frustration.

'Look at my hair! it is dead straight and boring and black!' she moaned. 'Why can't I have wavy golden hair like you, Mary? no wonder I don't have a beau yet. No wonder Dickon couldn't resist you!'

'Sam, Dickon has known me since I was a child. I'm probably one of the only girls he's ever met.'

'Maybe so, but I wish I had a strong, handsome Moor boy to call my own. All the young men Mother knows are so terribly tiresome. There are only a few that take my interest, and I'm sure they're not interested in me in the slightest!'

'Don't be ridiculous, Sam.' I replied wearily. I was beginning to get cross with her. 'You are going to look so beautiful at our party, especially in your new dress. All those young men would be silly not to be falling all over you.'

She didn't reply, just stared into the mirror, with a dark expression.

I finished brushing her hair and then placed the brush down on the dressing table.

'I didn't pull it too hard?' I said softly, trying to bring her out of herself.

'Oh, no, not at all.' she said, the darkness lifting as she turned around to look at me and smile. Like a sleeper waking up from a troubling dream.

I was relieved to see that she had come back to being herself, and went over to get into bed. The gas lamps near the bed glowed softly, and made me feel sleepy. I could hear rain on the roof overhead, pounding in a soft, toneless drone.

I heard Sam walk over to her bed, pull back the covers, and then pause.

'Oh Mary, it's so awfully cold in here. I think I shall freeze! can I just jump into bed quickly with you?'

I had never shared a bed with anyone before, and was hesitant on letting Sam share mine with me. Yet, I did miss the contact of another person, and it was a cold night.

'Alright then. Just don't steal all of the eiderdown.' I replied, moving over to give her some room.

She walked across the room, stood next to the bed and turned down the light, and then got in beside me. I shivered as I felt her cold body next to mine, and heard her sigh as she found my warmth.

'This is so much better than getting into a cold bed.' She sighed. 'I've never shared a bed with anyone before.'

'In Dickon's family they always sleep two to three to a bed.' I said sleepily. 'They say it keeps everyone warm in winter.'

'They'd be right about that.' Sam yawned, pulling the blankets further up around her. 'Tell me more about Dickon, Mary.' she said. 'Tell me what its like to have a beau.'

I stared up into the blackness of the ceiling and thought to myself. Just what was it like? wonderful? yes. Heartbreaking? yes. I had never had to describe my feelings to anyone before, and I struggled to find the right words.

'It's just such a wonderful feeling. Better than you could ever imagine. Being with Dickon makes me feel so good, but not just good, better than that. Complete, whole. When we're together, I feel whole.'

'Like you weren't complete before?' Sam asked, with curiousity.

'Yes, like i had been living my life incomplete. And being with Dickon completes me. When he is happy and smiles I feel good and it makes me smile too. When I think of him out on the moor on cold nights, I feel cold and wish that - ' I stopped suddenly, feeling as though I had said too much.

'Wish that what, Mary?'

'That... That he was with me. That we were lying here like this, side by side. That I could make him warm again.'

'Do you wish that he was here now?'

'More than anything, Sam.' I whispered. 'More than anything in the world.'

'Mary,' Sam began. She hesitated. 'I've got something to tell you.'

She sounded so unsure, which wasn't like her at all.

'Go on then, what is it?' I asked gently.

'Its... well, when I told you I had never had a beau I wasn't being completely honest... '

'You've had a beau?' I said, astonished at her revelation.

'Yes. His name was Edward. He's a friend of my brothers. Anyway, we began as friends. Whenever he came over to see William we would sit and talk. We always got on so well, and then we found chances to be alone, and our friendship began to turn into something else. He really loved me, he said. He said that he wanted to marry me. That if our parents wouldn't agree that we could elope. You see, he was from a very wealthy background and knew that his parents would look down on the match. We talked about running away, of eloping to Gretna Green. I wanted him, more than anything. However, it didn't turn out that way in the end.'

'What happened?' I asked sympathetically.

'His parents arranged a marriage between him and a young society woman. His Father gave him an ultimatum – either marry her or he would be cut out of his Father's will. Everyone knew about us by that stage. I suppose his Father must have known how close we were to running away together. I guess in the end his love of money won out over his love for me.'

She had began shaking and I realised that she was crying. I felt afraid and unsure. I had never comforted anyone before and didn't really know what to do. I hesitantly drew her into my arms and gently stroked her back while she sobbed.

After a few minutes she stilled and said 'I still see him sometimes, you know. With his new wife. She is a beautiful thing. Skin as pale as milk and long blonde hair – much like yours, Mary. How could I ever compare to someone like that?'

'You are beautiful, Sam' I said, turning to look at her. 'He was obviously a fool to pick her over you. Even if she did have a huge inheritance.'

She must have smiled, because her tone lightened. 'You're the first person I've spoken to about this for such a long time.' she said. 'I'm sorry Mary, I just can't help but get jealous when I think of your love for Dickon and his love for you and then think of my own life and all that I've missed out on. Our party is coming up in a few days and I just know that Mother will try to arrange a match for me, and I can't think of anything worse! I just want to be free to choose for myself, as you are free! and then there will be Christmas... that season is just fill of boring parties and having to meet 'eligible' bachaelors. I wish there was somewhere I could escape to where I wouldn't have to deal with all of this.'

'There is.' I said, an idea suddenly dawning on me. 'You could come to Misselthaite for Christmas, with me. I don't see why that would be a problem. Your parents know Uncle Archie, after all. I don't see why they would mind you accompanying me.'

'Oh Mary! do you really think that would be alright? and I would love to meet your Dickon! and to see your secret garden – even though it would be mostly covered in snow at that time of year.'

'I'm sure Uncle would love to have some visitors. And Colin will be coming back for Christmas, of course. Perhaps he could even invite your brother, William to come along too?'

'Mary! you are so lovely to me!' she exclaimed, her voice full of emotion. She hugged me tight and kissed me on the forehead. 'I'll ask Mother about it as soon as I get a chance.'

She soon slept, her body warm next to mine. However, I stayed awake, lying on my back, staring up at the high ceiling. What are you doing tonight, Dickon? I wondered. Are you safe inside? are you roaming the moor, looking for lost animals? are you shivering and pulling your coat tighter around you? are you dreaming? and... are you... are you thinking of me?
The rain droned down on the roof above, lulling me to sleep. I dreamt of Misselthaite, of being back home. In my dream, I was wandering through the paths of the garden, recognising every upturned stone, every landmark. I was heading towards the Secret Garden, I was holding my key, and had it ready to slip into the lock. And in my dream, at the end of the garden path - next to a door covered in Ivy, stood a tall, strong youth, waiting for me.

My Secret, Chapter 12

2008-03-24T12:41:00.000-07:00

Chapter 12:
Life outside the Garden

'Mary, do you miss your home?'

'All the time.'

'Are you sorry that you've come to live here?'

The voice was so genuine in it's concern that I inwardly cringed. Across the way from me, Sam's face was illuminated in candlelight. We were laying in our respective beds, talking as the night grew late.

How could I begin to tell her how much I ached to see home again. To wake up in my old bedroom at Misselthwaite, to the sound of the maids scurrying about, to the sound of the birds singing outside, or of the rain falling on the roof. To the sights and scents of the secret garden – and to feel Dickon's gentle caress. I wanted to tell her how I had been forced into coming here, that I had not wanted to come at all. That I wished I were at home, and that this would never be 'home' to me – that I had left someone behind – a young man that I cared about so much that at times it felt like I would explode. Yet how could I say all of this to Samantha?

Instead I replied:

'Yes, I do miss home, but its bearable because I know it won't be long until I return.'

'I wish I could see Misselthwaite...' Sam said dreamily, staring up at the ceiling as though looking up at the stars in a night sky. 'I long to see the countryside, and you just make it sound so lovely.'

'It's the most lovely, beautiful place in the world.' I said softly. 'We even have a secret garden there – did Colin tell you about it?'

'He might have mentioned something about it in passing, I can't really remember. But please tell me about it Mary. What do you mean by a secret garden?'

She had shifted position, and was now sitting propped up on her elbow. Her eyes, I noticed, gleamed in the firelight, and her wavy dark hair hung loose around her face, like a black veil in the darkness. I was still growing used to seeing her like this, a stark contrast from the immaculately presented girl whom I had been introduced to in the sitting room that evening. Her enthusiasm spurred me on, and I began to tell her about my arrival at Misselthwaite, and the events that had happened six long years ago.

'And the birds are always chirping high up in the trees,' I was saying, 'and there are robins, and blackbirds, and sparrows, and Ravens of course. Dickon even used to have a Raven called 'Soot' who would travel with him wherever he went – he would let us feed Soot or hold him on our arm, and he would walk up and down your arm as if he was the ruler of the bird kingdom, and could do exactly as he pleased.'

Samantha giggled 'I couldn't imagine a bird walking up and down my arm!' she said. 'Your Dickon must have quite a way with animals.'

'All the animals are his friends.' I replied passionately, feeling my stomach lurch at the mention of Dickon's name. Hearing Sam say his name made Dickon feel more real to me, not just a memory within my mind, and I struggled to feel the emotions rising up inside me. 'He knows how to treat them, and they trust him not to do them any harm. When I first met him, he spent most of his time on the moor, tending to sick animals and sometimes he would even sleep out in the open, just like them. And it's not just animals, either. He has a way with people, a way of making them feel as though they can trust him.'

I desperately wanted to say more. I wanted to tell her how it was between us – how Dickon made me feel, how much I missed him, and how I could hardly bear being apart from him. I tried to push my feelings down, but they kept rising to the surface. I saw Dickon in my mind's eye – a faraway speck on the moor. I saw him waving goodbye, a forlorn figure standing outside in the cold up against the bleak grey of the sky. How long would it be before we could be together again? I knew that Colin came home every Christmas, but Christmas was almost two months away! how would I survive until then? Tears welled up in the corners of my eyes despite my attempts to quell my feelings. I tried to wipe them away inconspicuously.

'Mary... are you crying?' said Sam, in concern.

'No... it's just these pillows – they're all dusty and they're making... they're making my eyes water!' I replied angrily, sniffing as I did so, and trying to swallow the frustration and pain that was welling up inside me.

'Mary, I know you must miss your home.' Sam said gently. 'You don't have to pretend to me.'

'I thought I would be able to bear this!' I sobbed. 'I promised him I would.'

'Promised who, Mary – your Uncle, uh, Lord Craven, I mean?'

I turned around to face her, my face streaked with tears. I had an overwhelming urge to tell her everything, to release my emotions. I felt so tired and drained. My reply was little more than a whisper, which was clouded in despair.

'No... not my Uncle. Dickon, Sam. I promised Dickon.'

'The boy who tames the animals?'

I nodded mutely, looking down – unable to meet her enquiring gaze.

'You...' she began, then realisation hit 'Oh Mary ... you're in love with him?'

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

'Mary!' Mrs Sutherland announced, swiftly breezing into the room where Sam and I were being dressed. 'Mary, I need to ask you a question.'

'You may step outside for a minute, Charlotte,' she gestured to the maid who was lacing my corset. I felt the strings slacken as she let go and bobbed a curtsey, and the wonderful relief of being able to breathe again.

Without waiting for me to reply, she continued: 'I have it on good authority that you are to have your sixteenth birthday next week – on the 10th of October, is that correct?'

'Yes, that is my birthday.' I replied.

'Well, it also happens that my dear Samantha's birthday falls two weeks after yours – on the 24th of October. As you know, she will also be turning sixteen.' she clasped her hands together in joy 'Ah! such a lovely age.' Sam turned to look at her Mother, rather suspiciously, I noticed. 'Anyway, I was thinking how pleasant it would be if the two of you could have a combined birthday party. I know it would be the perfect chance to introduce you, Mary, to some of London's society.'

'London's society?' I said out loud, in surprise – forgetting that this was the reason that I had come to London in the first place. Misselthwaite suddenly seemed so far away. I closed my eyes briefly and thought of Dickon and his smile, happy and immersed in nature. So far away from all of this! I must bear it, I must! I reminded myself.

'Yes my dear. Every young woman is introduced to society on her sixteenth birthday – or thereabouts. Of course, Sam has already seen her fair share of society – haven't you, my darling.' she said, turning to Sam with a fond expression on her face.

'Yes, Mother.'

I glanced at Sam and noticed her rolling her eyes once her Mother looked away. I stiffled a giggle, trying not to look at Mrs Sutherland.

'Now then. I intend to draft some invitations this morning, and I think we will arrange for the party to be in two week's time. That will give everyone enough time to get to know each other, and for me to make the necessary preparations.'

'More like bribe the right people to come.' I heard Sam mutter under her breath.

'What was that, Samantha?' Mrs Sutherland broke in.

'Nothing Mother.' Sam smiled. 'I think it's wonderful you're putting on a party for Mary and I... and er... thinking of our best interests.'

'My dear! I'm so pleased you think so! this party is going to be the talk of the neighbourhood, at the very least. It's not every day that not one, but two young ladies turn sixteen! Mary, I don't know if you're aware of the significance of a young woman's sixteenth birthday. It is often marked as her 'coming out' into society – where young ladies get a chance to mingle in the right kinds of adult company.'

'and be bored the whole time.'

'Samantha my dear, you must learn to speak up or no one will be able to hear what you're saying!'

'I'm sorry Mother, I said “and have a great time.” Sam turned to me and winked.

Mrs Sutherland smiled in agreement 'Yes, well sixteen is a very exciting age for you young ladies. The world really is your Oyster! Oh girls, I cannot wait to have this party! I think perhaps,' she said slowly 'a shopping trip might be in order? Every young lady should have a new gown for such an occasion'

How much worse can this get? I thought, inwardly rolling my eyes. First a party, and now a shopping trip??

'Anyway, I'll leave you girls to dress. You have a busy day ahead of you. Miss Godfrey will be calling on you both at nine this morning. She'll expect both of you to be punctual.'

'Yes Mother, we promise not to be late.' Sam said, somewhat sarcastically. I marvelled that Mrs Sutherland did not pick up on it, thinking how different it would have been had it been Mrs Medlock in her place! Mrs Medlock had always been able to smell sarcasm a mile away.

'Ohhh, Mother and her parties!' Sam exclaimed, as soon as Mrs Sutherland had left the room. 'God Mary, I simply dread them. They are usally such dull affairs!'

'We would not be having a dull time if we were at Misselthwaite,' I replied. 'We would be eating birthday cake and playing party games with Colin and Dickon – and if it was sunny we would eat lunch in the garden under the shade of a tree... of course, that's a little difficult to do when it's cold like this, but we would still have fun.'

'Tell me about one of your birthdays, Mary.' Sam went and sat on her bed. 'We still have some time before Charlotte comes back.'

I cast my mind back to the past, fondly remembering my thirteenth birthday and the bonfire that Dickon and Colin had made for me in the middle of the secret garden. That year was the last year that Colin had been there to share my birthday with me. Shortly afterwards, he had been sent away to London.

'Well, Dickon and Colin once made me a bonfire.' I said smiling. 'They lit it in the Secret Garden and led me there in surprise. We toasted pieces of bread over it, and hot potatoes. I'll never forget how Colin burnt his fingers trying to pick one of them up when they were still too hot – he spent the rest of the night pretending it didn't hurt, but wincing every time he thought we weren't looking.'

I realised that I had digressed, but saw Sam looking at me with humour twinkling in her grey eyes.

'I can just imagine Colin doing that!' she laughed. 'He always seems so frail – as if he is going to break into a million pieces and smash - like fine china.'

'Dickon isn't fragile though. He's so very strong. Rough, wild – like a shaggy moor pony'
'No wonder you feel so strongly about him.' Sam said, dropping her voice to a whisper. 'I wish I had someone to feel strongly about. I don't think I've ever been in love. I've met so many young men – and most of them just seem so arrogant and ... self assured! as if they know everything!'
'Colin was like that over the Bonfire.' I remembered. 'He tried to take credit for all of it, when of course I knew that Dickon was the one who had gathered the wood and built it... he always was good with his hands.'

'I bet he is good with his hands in many ways, not just in “building bonfires”', she chuckled.

I laughed in spite of myself, hoping my cheeks weren't giving away my embarrassment.

'But of course, I wouldn't know anything about that.' She replied, and winked at me. 'Come, Charlotte hasn't come back yet to dress us, so I'll help you with your gown. And later – tonight, I want to hear all about your moor boy.'

My Secret, Chapter 11

2008-03-24T12:35:00.000-07:00

Chapter 11:
Enter the Sutherlands

Had the streets of London always been this grey?

We were making our way through the streets of the city, meandering through the darkness lit only by dim headlamps and gas lights shining from windows as we passed. The darkness seemed thick and oppressive – even somewhat penetrating, and I was grateful for the window being shut tight. I felt as though if I stepped out into it, into the blackness and the fog, my soul would be swallowed up in it, into the swirling muddy blackness that lay beyond the windows of Dr Sutherland's carriage.

Dr Sutherland sat opposite Colin and I. He was a middle-aged man, rather tall, with a face that was creased with frown lines. He wore about him the seriousness that seemed to accompany most educated men, and he did not smile often, merely lifting the corners of his mouth when Colin displayed his youthful exuberance or told an amusing anecdote. He had spoken very little to me since we had left the train station, beyond the regular formal courteouseys, and I got the feeling that he felt he had very little time for young women – especially those that had been brought up and educated far off in the wilderness of Yorkshire.

Colin sat by my side, evidently excited that I had arrived at last. He was his usual self – exactly how I remembered him. Brimming with self-confidence and chatting non-stop about his education and life in London. It felt good to see Colin – the one familiar person I knew in this dark and dreary place. Already I missed Misselthwaite immensely. I missed the stark emptiness of the countryside, the big old house with all it's secrets. I missed the Secret Garden, which had been my refuge and sanctuary for so long, and of course, I missed Dickon. I thought of him – so many miles away now, and wondered what he would be doing. It was late – he had probably eaten dinner already at the house, and had made his way back to the cottage he shared with Ben Weatherstaff. I could picture him sitting by the fire in the kitchen of the cottage, perhaps half listening to Ben as he spoke of the old days, or alone in his bedroom, with a pencil and a piece of paper... from which he would draw any manner of creatures and bring them to life under his hand. I saw him as I remembered him then, as a young lad, with his animals all around him. I remembered Soot the raven, who had sat on his shoulder, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for a bird to do. I remember my first thoughts of him then, that he had been some kind of animal charmer, like the one's I had seen when I was growing up in India. Later on I had realised that he did not possess any particular kind of magic, rather the animals responded to his kind and gentle nature, knowing that he would not hurt them. It was the same for people, too, I mused. Then blushed as I thought of his eyes – and the way they had penetrated right into me, speaking to me, and telling me not to be afraid.

Telling me -

My thoughts were interrupted by Colin, speaking eagerly at my side. He was sitting rather animated – upright in the seat – a stark contrast to Dr Sutherland who sat opposite us and barely moved at all.

'So tell me Mary, how are everyone at Misslethwaite? It seems like years since I last went back to visit.' He paused, but not long enough to let me answer, for he carried on 'and my Father, I trust he is well? still burrowing himself away in that Library of his? and what of the Garden?' By this he meant the secret garden. He laughed, looking at me and grinning. 'You're not still getting Dickon to slave over that garden, are you Mary?!'

I felt myself flushing at the mention of Dickon's name. Did Colin know about Dickon and I? I tried desperately to quell my beating heart.

'Well, you know how Dickon is.' I replied 'I couldn't keep him away from the garden if I tried.'

'Dickon', Dr Sutherland suddenly interjected. 'I've heard that name before. Colin, is he the common Moor boy you were telling me about, who was helping you with – what was it? - your secret garden?'

Your secret Garden? I thought.

'Oh yes, Dickon has been there right from the beginning. He helped somewhat in bringing the Garden back to life when we found it.'

I stared at Colin, wondering what kind of story he had told the Sutherlands about the discovery of the Secret Garden. We both knew full well that he hadn't played any part in discovering it. His part in the story came later. I would have to ask him when we had a moment alone, I decided, rather irritated at him.

'Oh, I see.' Dr Sutherland said. 'Well, those Moor boys can be handy to have around if you need some physical labour done. Built like Oxen, some of them, well so I've been told. But brute strength does not compare to intellectual ability, does it, my boy'

Now it was Colin's turn to blush. How could he let Dr Sutherland say something like that? I wondered, feeling my anger rise.

I spoke up.

'Actually Dr Sutherland, Dickon Sowerby has been a very good friend of Colin and I for these past five years. Do you know it was he who helped Colin learn to walk again?'

'Is that so?' he mused, placing his hands under his chin, and looking at me for what seemed an uncomfortably long amount of time. All the while the carriage making its way through the dim London streets.

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

'Look Mary! here it is!'

Colin raised his voice in excitement, pointing at a large red brick house that was appearing out of the fog, as if by magic, as we made our way closer. Presently the carriage halted and Dr Sutherland got out, followed by Colin. Colin held the door open for me, and then grinned at me, bowing and gesturing for me to exit. He looks just like a court jester, posing as an ill-educated servant, I thought, but had to smile at his antics. It was clear that Colin still retained some of his theatrical charm.

'I would like to welcome Lady Mary Lennox to the residence of the Sutherland family,' he began in a overly snobby voice. 'Ma'am if you would just step down from your carriage.'

I felt the cold cobbled stones under my feet and watched as Dr Sutherland entered the large house, and returned with two servants. Colin smiled, and took my arm. 'I can't wait to introduce you to everyone, Mary. They've all heard so much about you. Mainly about you being my cousin and all, and all the adventures we've had over the years at Misselthwaite! and of course they want to know all about India and what it's like to live there and the Rajahs – which I told them were boy princes covered in hundreds and hundreds of jewels and-'

'My dear boy, now is not the time to stand and talk. They await Miss Lennox inside.' Dr Sutherland reprimanded softly.

We turned and headed up the steps, and I couldn't help but notice the servants bow as we went past. What kind of house was this? I wondered. I hoped the servants wouldn't feel they had to treat me that way for too long. It made me feel uncomfortable, and once again, I longed for the familiarity of Misselthwaite – of home.

It was certainly a grand house, and very modern, compared to Misslelthwaite. The floorboards were polished and covered with brightly coloured rugs – some of which I recognised as being from India. We walked down the hall, following Dr Sutherland. At last we came to a door and went inside – to a large and comfortable room filled with armchairs and a blazing fire.

The first person I noticed was a young girl, seated opposite the door who smiled as we went in. She must be Samantha, I thought to myself, before turning to see who else occupied the room. A middle-aged woman was sitting on the chaise next to Samantha, Mrs Sutherland, I thought. Sitting on her right was an older girl – probably close to Dickon's years in age, and sitting next to her was a young man who looked to be in his early 20's. An elderly woman with white hair sat at the other end of the room, closest to the fire, and seemed to be engaged in some kind of embroidery.

Dr Sutherland's voice rang out over the room.

'I would like to introduce Miss Mary Lennox, niece of Lord Craven, who has joined us tonight from Misslelthwaite Manor.'

I smiled shyly at everyone seated around me, not knowing exactly how to proceed, but Mrs Sutherland gestured for me to come and sit next to her. I noticed that Dr Sutherland had moved towards the door and was talking to one of the servants stationed there.

'Mary, how lovely,' she said, holding her hands out to me in a welcoming gesture. She took my hands in hers, drawing me towards her and kissing me on the cheek. 'We've heard so much about you. Let me introduce you to my family.'

The older girl was the first to be introduced.

'This is my eldest daughter, Miss Sutherland. But we just call her Patricia.'

'Mother! we all know that it's Pat – Patricia sounds so formal!' she complained in a joking tone, then came forward to me.

'Delighted to meet you, Mary' she said, taking my hands and kissing my cheek as Mrs Sutherland had done.

'And this is my oldest child – William.' she said, leading me towards the young man. He smiled and took my hands. 'Mary Lennox', he began, 'so this is the beautiful young lady you've been telling us about, eh Colin'. His hands felt warm in mine, and I noticed his eyes upon me. I glanced away and managed to mumble 'I'm very pleased to meet you, too.' before being whisked away to the next person.

'Miss Lennox' – then after a stern look from Pat 'Mary, I would like to introduce you to my youngest daughter, Samantha Sutherland.' and after a 'hmmm!' from Pat, 'Sam for short.'

I had guessed that she would be Samantha, she seemed to be of a similar age to Colin and myself, and I was intrigued. It was the first time I had been around a young woman of my own age since I had been in India, and I was fascinated by her, in spite of myself.

Samantha Sutherland had dark brown hair, almost black, with skin as pale as ivory. Her features were delicate, which gave her an almost childlike, innocent look, yet there was an intellegance within her grey eyes – and I got the feeling that there was more to her than met the eye. I supposed I would find out, I sighed inwardly. This was to be my home now...

The last person to be introduced was the elderly lady with white hair. She was small and rather dainty, and spoke with what I could only take to be a high class London accent. 'My Mother, Mrs Maia Bennet.' Mrs Sutherland said, smiling fondly at the woman seated next to the fireplace. 'My dear girl', the old woman said 'we've heard so much about you, and we hope that you will feel at home here, as much as our dear Colin has done over the past two years.' Her smile of welcome seemed genuine enough, so I smiled back.

I turned and saw Colin standing next to William, talking in an animated way. Dr Sutherland was nowhere to be seen, and I supposed he had business to take care of. Pat and Sam were sitting together on the sofa, chatting to each other and every now and again stealing a curious glance at me. All of a sudden I longed to be alone, to be somewhere where I would be safe – where no prying eyes could venture. I longed for the sanctity of the Secret Garden, and more than anything else, I pined for Dickon. I would have given anything at that moment to feel his arms around me, to hear him say 'Hush, Miss Mary', and to see his smile.

Mrs Sutherland's voice broke through my thoughts. I sighed and put my thoughts of Dickon on hold.

'Mary, my dear the servants have prepared your room for you. You will be sleeping in the same room as Samantha.' I noticed she had said the girl's full name again, and then saw that Sam had shot her a withering glance. I guessed that 'Samantha' was a title that was only used in the company of visitors. Then a thought hit me. I was not going to have my own room? no place to call my own? I tried to keep my feelings in check. I was too weary to give in to them, just yet. But to have no privacy, no peace? I bit my lip, feeling anger beginning to grow inside me, all of a sudden hating my Uncle for sending me away, when I should have been back at Misselthaite, where I belonged. I longed for the simple things, the beauty of the moor and the gardens, the sight of Ben's cottage, where Dickon lived, its simple whitewashed walls gleaming in the sunlight. I felt a hollowness in the pit of my stomach at the thought of Dickon. I wondered what he was doing now? was he thinking of me? You won't see him again for a long time, Mary Lennox, my inner voice taunted me. Not for a long, long time. What were you thinking of when you told him that you loved him? when you knew that you were going to leave?

'Come Mary, let me show you to your room. You might like to refresh yourself before dinner.'

'Don't worry Mother, I'll show her up', Sam said, jumping up and heading towards us, giving Mrs Sutherland a dazzling smile.

'You see, we've got so much to talk about. We have to get to know each other, after all.'

'Yes, that's fine Mrs Sutherland.' I replied, wanting then, more than anything to escape from the confines of the stifling sitting room. 'After all, it is Sam's room.'

'Well, we will see you two girls for dinner then. Don't be late, Samantha.'

'We won't Mother. Come on Mary.'

Sam took me by my hand and led me from the room. I was grateful and noticed I felt better immediately after leaving. She must have noticed my relief.

'I can't stand sitting in there either, god, what a bore it is sometimes! and Mother seems to get more old fashioned by the day!'

'I'm not used to seeing so many people all together like that', I said. 'At Misselthaite, there is only my uncle and myself, and the odd servant. Not like here. This is going to take some getting used to.' I was curious. 'Does your family always sit together like that?' all night? I wondered.

'Oh, all the time. Mother deems it a proper way to spend the time, and she is always trying to impress Grandmother. Usually, its only the four of us – Pat, Mother, Grandmother and I. It is so unbelievably boring. Mother insists that we do nothing except play cards or embroider, and the hours pass so slowly. Which is why I'm so glad you've come to stay with us, Mary! you'll be a breath of fresh air around here!'

I shuddered inwardly, already thinking of countless hours I was to spend here, the time that would be wasted, the dread of knowing that Misslethwaite was so far away. I decided then, that I would do whatever it took to get back to Misselthaite – my home, and to Dickon, as quickly as I could.

My Secret, Chapter 10

2008-03-24T12:28:00.000-07:00

Chapter 10:
Parting gifts

'I want you to',

The words came out of my mouth in a throaty whisper, with so much wanting and desire. I could hardly believe that I was saying them, that we were here, alone, in the secret garden.
Dickon was leaning over me, one hand on the hooks of my corset. Very gently I felt his fingers unhook one of the clasps, and then another. I felt myself sigh in anticipation of his touch. I wanted him, I wanted this, more than anything.

'Is tha sure?' he whispered, pausing.

'Please Dickon, please do it, I wa- ' we were interrupted by the sound of footsteps hurrying down the outside path of the garden.

'Dickon!' I hissed. 'Someone has found out, quick - '

The situation would have been hilarious if it had not been so serious. The two of us flew apart – Dickon reaching for his discarded shirt and pulling it over his head, me struggling with my dress.

'God, who is it?' I heard him whisper.

I found myself shaking in fear where I had felt so safe only a few seconds ago.

'I don't know, just go Dickon! please!'

I was near tears and he reached down to hug me tightly for a brief second.

'I have something for tha', he whispered, reaching to the ground and picking up an object I hadn't seen before. He gently slipped it into my hands.

'Thank you', I whispered, my voice giving away the emotion I could barely control. My heart racing as we listened to the approaching footsteps. Yes, they had found out, and they were coming.

'I love thee', he said softly. 'Don't ever forget it.'

'I love you too, Dickon.' I reached up to kiss him one last time. 'Now go, while you still can.'
He melted into the shadows, his last words lingering in my mind. 'I'll be seeing tha, if only in my dreams.' Then he was gone, and I was alone.

I hurried to button up my dress, pausing to slip the strange parcel down the front where it would be safe. I heard the garden door open, and heard Dickon running down the path towards his cottage. The other set of footsteps gained, and then only a few seconds later, the door of the garden burst open – and in came a figure I had not expected to see, Sarah.

'Miss Mary!'

She came towards me, obviously in a panic, she was puffing, short of breath, and her usually neat and immaculate appearance had been replaced by hair that was plastered against her forehead, and a crumpled dress, which had obviously been slept in.

'You're got to come Miss, there's no time to lose. They've found out you're not in tha bed... quick Miss!'

I didn't say a word, but just followed her silently, my blood running cold in my veins. They had found me out? but how? all I could think of was Dickon, and hoped that he had got back safely to his bed without waking Ben or without being seen by anyone. God, Dickon... what would they do if they found out?

'But Sarah, how did they know?' we were hurrying now, I was finding it difficult to run in my tightly laced corset and was having trouble keeping up. We ran across the lawn of the garden and then out into the shaded walkway, our footsteps crunching upon the gravel. I felt the parcel Dickon had gave me and was relieved that it was well hidden. I knew that I would probably have some explaining to do, and the less that point to his association with me, the better.

'They found out when Mrs Medlock got up. She walked past your door and noticed it open, she knows that you always keep it shut. So she looked in and noticed you weren't there. Oh Miss, I came as fast as I could. Tha' whole house is in an uproar, everyone is up looking for thee. I knew I had to find tha and warn tha.'

Dull acceptance of the situation began to creep into my mind.

'Well, I suppose there's nothing that can be done but go back and try to think of a good story as to where I was.' I said, as we hurried down the walkway. Then panic rose within me. 'But what can I possibly say?'

'I don't know Miss, but I do know one thing – the Mistress is not happy.'

'Oh Sarah, thank you so much for coming.' I grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight, if only to find reassurance from another person. She must have felt my need because she replied 'Its alright Miss, I like tha' and I don't want to see tha' in the firing range of that old Dragon. Come on,' she tugged my hand 'we must hurry.'

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'And just what do you think you were doing, wandering around in the night?' Mrs Medlock grabbed my arm and whirled me around to face her. Her face was livid with anger, and her grip was tight and hurt me. I winced and tried not to cry out. 'Just where have you been, hmmm? answer me, girl!'

'I just, I just wanted to take a stroll', I replied desperately.

'A stroll?!' she gasped, almost laughing, but with her eyes blazing. 'In the middle of the night?!'

'Only a short walk... I just had to see the gardens one final time. That's all, I swear.'

'What kind of lady goes wandering around at this hour?' she demanded. 'Haven't these last few weeks meant anything to you? I have been trying to teach you proper decorum and how to act as a lady should, and this is how you repay me? by rebelling and acting in an indecent manner? You should be ashamed of yourself!'

'I never wanted your training in the first place!' I cried, struggling to free myself from her cruel grip. 'I never wanted to go to London, nor to be trained to be 'a lady', especially by you.'

'Your Uncle will hear about his in the morning.' she snapped 'what an insolent child you are, how you continue to defy his wishes and mine!.'

'He knows what I want!' I sobbed, tears streaming down my cheeks. 'I want to stay here. I don't want to go to London. This is my home! why doesn't anyone ever listen to me?'

'Save your pathetic pleas for a more sympathetic audience.' she said coldly. 'Quite frankly, I've had enough of the lies and the deceit – going to look at the gardens indeed.' Her gaze swept over me then, as it had when I came in – noting my dishevelled appearance, tangled hair and crumpled dress. 'If I didn't know better, I'd say you went to those gardens for a different purpose altogether. Revolting behaviour...'

She lead me along the dark corridor, carrying her lantern in her free hand, her other hand still gripping tightly into the soft flesh of my upper arm. I watched it cast its light on the gloomy walls, leaving long, frightening shadows around the corners. We reached my room and she thrust me in, and then turned to Sarah, who had followed us silently down the corridor. She too, was weeping.

'And as for you,' she whispered loudly, 'I've got a good mind to send you home without a shilling to your name. You knew where she was going and you kept it from me!' I heard the slap of Mrs Medlock's hand against Sarah's face and heard her cry out. 'Now go to your room and don't you dare come back here.'

I heard her sobbing as she ran away down the dark corridoor, and I imagined her with one hand over her smarting cheek. I felt a surge of anger so strong rise up in me that felt as though it would burst and overflow. I wanted to turn to Mrs Medlock and shake her and shake her. I struggled to keep myself under control.

'How could you?' I hissed. 'None of this was her fault.'

'Don't you dare tell me what I can and cannot do, my girl. I am head housekeeper here, and what goes on in this house is my responsibility. I will not be told what I should do and what I shouldn't, especially by one like yourself.'

'What do you mean “one like myself”?' I spat back, not even trying to keep my voice down.

'I know the kind of girl you are... and I know why girls like you sneak out of their beds at night. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.'

I did not say anything, but looked up to meet her gaze, my eyes full of fire.

'I would rather be who I am than be someone I'm not.' I replied evenly. 'all you are interested in is in turning me into someone I hate - and god forbid I should end up all bitter and twisted like you.'

'That's enough!' she spun around, and pushed me towards my bed. 'I have had to deal with enough insolence tonight and I refuse to deal with any more. Now get those clothes off and get into bed where you should be.'

She turned and left me, striding towards the door. Then stopped, turning to face me again, her face glowing sinisterly in the light of the lantern.

'You will leave for London first thing in the morning – and in case you should fancy another 'stroll through the garden' or whatever you'd like to call it, I will be locking the door behind me.'

I heard the door latch behind her, and the key turn in the lock. I was trapped. I collapsed on my bed, my body wracked with sobs. I cried out, for some human comfort, but nobody came. I cried for Dickon, for the Secret Garden, for the only home I knew, that I would be leaving behind. I cried for what could have been and for what I knew was to be. I held Dickon's package close to my heart, desperate to hold on to the last part of him that I might ever have.

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The carriage began to move, and I sat still, silent, no tears welling in my eyes, only dry sorrow. Mrs Medlock and my Uncle were sitting opposite me, yet I could not bring myself to look in their direction – I could not face the disappointed look in my Uncle's eyes, nor the obvious disapproving pleasure in Mrs Medlocks. Instead, I took in the house and the gardens for what felt like the last time. I thought of the Secret Garden. Who will tend it now? I wondered. I know that Dickon will, he will always tend it, but who will be there to enjoy it with him? The driver whipped the horses, and the coach began to move faster, as we made our way down the driveway to the house. The gardens flew past us in a blur of green. There's the kitchen gardens, I thought, and there's Ben's herb garden – and the gardener's cottage... My heart sank as I saw the cottage on our way past, as it brought back feelings of Dickon and how our night had ended – and just what I would be leaving behind. The carriage rattled it's way down the stony drive, to where the gardens gave way to moors, the lovely lonely moors that Dickon so loved. I almost didn't see the solitary figure standing upon the moor, illuminated in the colours of the dawn. From far off he raised his hand and waved farewell. I turned from the window and tried to control the tears that threatened to break free. Oh Dickon, I thought sadly. What will become of us?

Now we were standing on the platform at the train station – a place that I hadn't set foot in for almost six years. Six long years... I had arrived here as a lonely orphan, unsure about her future and with no hope for what lay ahead. Now I was once again being turned out into the world, to follow a different path, but this time I was leaving behind a home, friends, and a man that I loved.The train was ready and waiting – bound for London, and I was preparing to board. I had never dreaded a journey so much as I had this one, and my heart felt as heavy as lead. I stiffly farewelled Mrs Medlock, then turned to my Uncle and let him take my hands in his.

'Farewell Child, may your journey be a pleasant one. I am sure that the Sutherlands will make you feel very welcome.' Despite the disappointment in me that he obviously felt, having heard all about my midnight wanderings, I heard kindness in his voice.

'Goodbye Uncle', I said, trying to hold my voice steady, then, reached up and hugged him. I felt him stiffen at first, then his arms gave way and hugged me back.

'Life will be very dull without you, you know', he whispered to me, then stood up, breaking away from me. I walked towards the door of the train, and I looked around. My Uncle was standing next to Mrs Medlock, and I could see the barest hint of a smile on his face. It was in stark contrast to her stony expression. I saw my Uncle tip his hat at me, in a gesture of respect then lift his hand and wave. I waved back from the door of the train, and then stepped inside, using every bit of willpower I had not to jump from the train and run back to where I knew I belonged – and to the man I loved.

It wasn't until the train was moving, and I was safely away that I reached into my travelling case and found the package that Dickon had given me. I drew it out, and examined it freely for the first time. It was something rectangular and hard, and was wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. I smiled thinking how like Dickon the parcel was – with no pretences whatsoever. I slowly untied the string, curiosity building as to what was inside. I opened up the paper and gasped at what I saw.

It was a pencil sketch of a young girl, asleep under an apple tree. Her hair framed her face and her lashes were long and dark. She had a small smile upon her lips as she slept peacefully, immersed in nature. The drawing was simple, yet detailed, and captured the mood of the moment. When he was watching me sleep, I thought, thinking back to a much happier time. I felt the tears rise to my eyes and then fall. The pain in my heart increasing as the train took me further and further away.

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It was dark when we reached London.

It had been dark for some time outside, but not after we had begun to approach a steadying amount of villages. The train made many stops along the way, and I couldn't remember when I had last felt so tired and drained of emotion. When the train stopped for the final time, and it was announced that we had reached London, I got up with the others, but did not hurry to exit. I was really here. Already Misselthwaite seemed like a dream, something that was far, far, away. I vowed that I would not cry, that I couldn't cry, not ever again. I was here now and I had to be strong. I knew I could wait, and I hoped that he would wait for me.

I clutched my travelling case close to me and followed the crowd of weary people out of the carriage and into the rank and bitter night air. As I stepped down from the train I marvelled at the sheer number of people. They were everywhere, surrounding me, pressing against me, raising their voices and calling out to others. I felt overwhelmed, and struggled not to show it.
Just then I looked up and noticed a familiar face coming towards me through the crowd – a tall young man with dark brown hair and a smiling face, striding freely, with an ease that betrayed the fact that it hadn't been six years since he had learnt to walk. 'Mary!' I heard him call, 'over here!' He was grinning wildly and waving at me, pushing past people in his hurry to reach me. He was followed by an older gentleman, who I assumed was Dr Sullivan. Now it is really happening, I thought, and Misselthwaite is so far, far away. I thought of Dickon's picture safe in my travelling case - I thought of his lovely face and how much I would miss him. I thought of our secret garden, and all the happy days we had spent there. It must be endured, I have to endure it. I thought. What else could I do? I mustered a smile and headed through the crowds, preparing to greet my cousin - and begin my new life in London.

My Secret, Chapter 9

2008-03-24T12:24:00.000-07:00

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.'

My Secret, Chapter 8

2008-03-24T12:17:00.000-07:00

Chapter 8:
A secret revealed

'Miss Mary', the gentle voice permeated into my deep undreaming subconscious, 'Miss, its time to wake up now.'

I groaned, and pulled the covers further over my head, vainly trying to burrow away from the noise, and drop back into the world of sleep.

'Mmmm... ' I muttered, my eyelids fluttering open.

'Come on now Miss, you have a busy day today.' Sarah's voice broke through my reveire, forcing me to open my eyes.

'Not yet Sarah, its still too early!' I moaned, with my head under the covers, but she persisted despite my pleas.

'Mrs Medlock is taking thee to tha' village today. She said you might be visiting Martha -
At the mention of Martha's name, I threw the covers aside and sat up, rubbing my bleary eyes.

'Did you say something about visiting Martha, Sarah?'

'Aye!', she laughed. 'and it looks as though nothing else is going to get you out of bed this mornin'.'

I yawned, 'I think you'd be correct in assuming that.' I had arrived back late last night, after my foray into the gardens with Dickon, and I sorely felt the lack of sleep that my midnight wanderings had produced. Nonetheless, I thought, last night had been worth it. I didn't know how I would get through the day though, and I was already dreaming of what would come the night ahead. However, it was a rare thing that I got a chance to visit Martha, and if anyone could take my mind off Dickon, she could.

'Alright', I'm up,' I said, getting out of bed and shivering in the cool morning air. I drew my arms around me and moved closer to the fireplace, where Sarah was waiting to help dress me. Ever since Mrs Medlock had made me start wearing a corset, I had to have assistance from Sarah every morning to lace me up.

I unbuttoned my heavy nightgown, and Sarah pulled it up off over my head. I still shivered, waiting for her to ask me to turn around so she could put my corset on, but instead she was staring at me, and her face had begun to turn crimson.

'What is it, Sarah?', I asked, feeling confused.

'Its your neck, miss...' she replied, looking down in embarrassment. 'You've got a...a mark.'

I strode over to the mirror and saw for myself the dark red mark that had emerged. Flushing, I remembered Dickon's kisses the night before. He must have done this when he was kissing my neck, I thought. He must have kissed me too hard.

'Oh this!', I said, laughing loudly. 'well, I don't know how this could have happened? probably when I buttoned my gown up too tight yesterday. I must have pinched the skin a little'

'I know what that is Miss Mary, and you don't get em' from buttonin' up yer gown.'

Now it was my turn to go crimson, and I looked down, utterly embarrassed, and a little afraid. If Sarah knew what it was, I thought, then surely Mrs Medlock would know too.

'If you don't mind me askin' Miss, who did it?' she said these words kindly, not accusatory at all. I looked up at her.

'It was Dickon, Sarah. I've... ah... we've began seeing each other.'

Saying the words out loud made it seem more real, and I found myself blushing again. Sarah was obviously not surprised, because she nodded to herself, and came closer to me.

'Aye, I thought it might be him. You see a lot of him, Miss, don't you.'

I nodded, and she nodded assent.

'Promise you won't tell anyone, Sarah? this has to be kept secret. This is my secret, perhaps my greatest secret. If anyone found out, he might be turned out of his place – and I would never be allowed to see him again.'

Sarah smiled. 'You don't need to worry yourself, Miss. I won't tell a soul. I promise.' She looked at me then, taking me all in. My knotted hair, the dark circles under my eyes, the mark on my neck... 'you went out last night to see 'im Miss, didn't you?'

'Yes.'

She sighed then, and went to get my corset from it's place in the cupboard. She strode over and eased it around my body, then began to do the laces up.

'And I'm going out to see him again tonight, Sarah', I said softly. 'I couldn't bear it if I couldn't see him again.'

She turned to look at me, her eyes filling with understanding, and an underlying sorrow. 'Oh Miss, what are you going to do? Theres talk of you going to London to make you into a lady...what are you going to do about Dickon?'

'I don't know, Sarah, I just don't know...' I replied, trying to choke back the sobs that threatened to break. 'I just want to be with him, and my Uncle is making me leave... and... I...'

My eyes overflowed with tears, and Sarah rushed around to face me, drawing me close to her.

'Oh Miss... I'm sorry.'

'That's alright, Sarah', I sniffed, once the tears had run their course. 'But I'll do whatever it takes to make my 'trip' to London as short as possible, regardless of what my Uncle thinks.'

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

Later that morning I found myself seated in the carriage, with Mrs Medlock sitting stiffly at my side.

'Really child', she said looking me over 'I don't know why you insisted on wearing such a high necked gown in this type of weather. You will give yourself a fever.'

I watched the scenery flying by outside the window, the moors green and vivid, framed by a blue sky, thanking whatever supreme power that was up there, that ladies fashions currently favoured gowns with ridiculously high necklines.

'I just felt like wearing this dress, thats all.' I replied. 'Besides, its a new one which Martha has not yet seen me wear.'

'Hmmph', she replied 'Well I still think it is very unsuitable.'

The rest of the trip passed in silence, with neither of us having anything to say to the other, and at legnth we saw the village approach. John, the driver, stopped the carriage outside a small red brick house, that was joined in a row to other similar dwellings. Mrs Medlock had been promising me a trip to the village for months, and this was the first time I had seen Martha since spring. Now Autumn was fast approaching, and I was looking forward to seeing her and her young baby.

'Well, here we are then', Mrs Medlock announced, as if she was making sure I had realised the carriage had stopped. We stepped out, and made our way up to Martha's cottage. Mrs Medlock knocked rather stiffly, and presently we heard the sound of scurrying feet come from inside.

'I'm comin',' a muffled voice called, and I smiled as I recognised Martha's broad accent. The door opened and Martha stood breathless, clutching a young infant. Seeing us, a smile lit up her plump face.

'Why Mrs Medlock! and Miss Mary. I wasn't expecting you so early, please come in.'

She waved us into the house 'Excuse the mess, its hard to keep clean with all the wee un's around. Jemmy's sleepin' at tha moment though, so I have a bit of time to myself, which is nice.'

Once we were inside the house Martha took the opportunity to come over and personally inspect me. I was struck by how much she resembled Dickon – for she was his sister, the same eyes, I thought. The same hair colour... without concsiously realising it, I was searching Martha's features for Dickons – the features of the young man that had so captured my heart.

'My Miss Mary!', she exclaimed. 'Don't you just look like a right proper lady now?' who would have thought, aye?! she winked at me, then turned to Mrs Medlock and curtsied. 'I'm pleased to see you're well, Ma'am.'

'Yes, well, I have been busy of course, Martha. But keeping well, yes.' she softened.

Martha put the kettle on to boil, and gestured towards the kitchen table. We sat down with her as we drank tea and talked about all the news of Misselthwaite. Martha still enjoyed keeping up with the gossip of the large house, and listened avidly to Mrs Medlocks descriptions of the goings on of the servants and residents of Misselthwaite. The subject then turned to my immenent departure, and Martha gave me a sympathetic look when Mrs Medlock wasn't watching. She knew how much I loved Misselthwaite, and the secret garden, and how much I would miss it. If only she knew, I thought, that it is her brother I will miss most of all.
As if on cue, Martha began talking about Dickon.

'I know my brother is enjoyin' his position at Misselthwaite, Ma'am', she said to Mrs Medlock. 'and you'll be pleased to know that his wages are helping support our Mother and her wee'uns.'
'Well Martha, I'm pleased to hear it.' Mrs Medlock replied. 'Of course you are probably aware that we are training Dickon to take the place of Ben Weatherstaff when he retires, which won't be far away now. Although he's already a very adept gardener, for someone so young.' she added, taking a delicate sip from her cup of tea. 'We expect great things of Dickon, Martha.' she said, and Martha beamed with pride at her younger brother.

'Does Dickon still help thee with the secret garden? Martha asked me.

'Ah, yes, of course,' I stammered, hoping that she wouldn't notice the flush that came over my cheeks as she mentioned him in relation to me. 'but he doesn't spend as much time in there as he used to.'

'And of course, Miss Lennox does not have much time in her day now for gardening, Martha,' Mrs Medlock interjected. 'She is now being prepared for high society in London – and it is not considered ladylike to go tramping through gardens in the circles that she will be moving in.'

'Oh I see...' Martha replied politely, but once again winking at me, when Mrs Medlock wasn't looking. Martha was one of the people who knew me better than anyone, and she knew that nothing could keep me away from the secret garden for too long.

'That reminds me, I must go to the dressmakers shop in the to make some final purchases – did you want to come along Mary, or would you prefer to stay here with Martha?' Mrs Medlock spoke, getting up from the table and straightening her skirts.

The choice was an obvious one.

'I think I'll stay here, Mrs Medlock', I replied simply.

'Very well then, if you'll excuse me, Martha.' She turned towards me. 'I will see you in around a quarter of an hour Mary. In the meantime, do try not to bother Martha too much.'

'I'll see you out Ma'am,' Martha replied, getting up and following Mrs Medlock out of the room. I breathed a sigh of relief as soon as they were gone, and then noticed how hot the morning had become. It was late autumn, but today was warmer than usual, and I was feeling the heat in the small, cramped kitchen. I reached up, and absentmindedly undid a few of the buttons of the tight gown that restricted my neck. I breathed out, feeling better already, and listened to Martha saying her goodbyes to Mrs Medlock, and then heard how soft footsteps coming down the hall towards me.

'Well, now that the old battleaxe has gone, perhaps tha can tell me how tha really feels about goin' away ta London,' Martha began, taking her seat at the table. 'I can imagine tha isna happy leavin'?'

We slipped into the easy manner of speaking that we had had for so many years. Martha nodding in sympathy as I relayed her all the details of the last month – ommiting of course, those that related to my feelings for her brother. The heat was becoming unbearable once again, and I undid some more buttons as I spoke, and then noticed as Martha's glance towards me changed, and a wry smile formed on her face.

'I see tha has been ... busy recently?' she asked, gesturing towards my neck.

'What do you mean?' I replied, and then with horror realised that I had been unbuttoning the neck of my gown, leaving the large mark in plain sight. My hand instinctively flew to my neck and I hastily buttoned up my gown.

Martha only smiled at me in a reassuring way. 'Its alright, Miss Mary. You're not the first girl in the world to have one, and it will fade in a few days.' She then leaned forward and asked me 'so who's the lucky man'.

What else could I say, I thought, so I said the only thing I could. I told her the truth.

'It's your brother, Martha. It's Dickon.'

Martha's reaction surprised me. She merely nodded.

'Aye, I know. Many a time he's been here to see me. I told the missus that all he talks about when he's here is tha garden. In a way that's true, but recently all he talks about is thee, Miss Mary.'

'You... you know?' I spluttered.

'Aye, I've known for a while now. Known that he is very fond of thee.'

I felt emotion surging up inside me as she spoke, and I struggled to contain myself.

'I...I think I love him, Martha.'

The words came out before I'd even realised what it was I was saying, and I suddenly felt afraid, as if Martha wouldn't approve of what I had said. I usually didn't care one bit for what people's opinions of me were, but Martha was one of my dearest friends – and I valued her opinion more than she knew.

'I know Miss. He is an easy person to love, and I can see he has made tha happy.'

'More happy than you could imagine, Martha.' I replied, once again feeling emotions so powerful overcome me that I was afraid I would be engulfed by them, and Lord forbid, begin sobbing at Martha's kitchen table.

She gave a small smile just then, and glanced to the small band of gold that adorned her finger. 'No, I can imagine. I know how it is to love someone and to be loved in return.' she looked up at me. 'After tha knows love, it becomes hard to live without it.'

'But Martha, how I am I going to bear being without Dickon while I am away? I don't even have a way of communicating with him? I can't exactly go writing him letters? how am I going to be able to stand it?'

Her reply was firm, but not lacking in warmth. 'Tha will stand it, Miss, because tha spirit is strong and tha heart is true. And when tha returns to Misselthwaite, Dickon will be waitin' for thee. And if thee wishes to correspond with him, why, just address the letters to me, and I will pass them on in turn. No one will be any the wiser.'

She took my hands in hers then, like she had done so many times in the past, and held them tight, looking into my eyes, which despite my self control, were brimming with tears.

'I canna think of a better match for our Dickon', she said 'than tha stubborn slip of a girl that came our way all those years ago.'

I laughed in spite of myself, and brought a hand up to my eyes to wipe away my tears.

'Thank you Martha,' I said, and then impulsively reached up and hugged her tightly, feeling the familiar warmth and softness of her.

She pulled back, tenderly stroked my face, then said 'Now button up your gown Miss, before the Mistress catches on, and don't fret. Everything will work out, I know it.' Just then there came the cry of an infant from the next room, and Martha got up. 'It sounds like little Jemmy is awake', she said – 'he was due to wake up any time now. Would tha like to hold him?'

I watched Martha as she went out of the room, her skirts swishing at her heels. Suddenly it seemed like there was hope – I would be able to communicate with Dickon after all! The day suddenly seemed so much brighter, and the anticipation of the night grew. A warm feeling grew within me, and seemed to spread, filling every cell in my body with happiness and hope. It wouldn't be long now until I saw Dickon again – and this time we would be safe in our secret garden, far away from the prying eyes of the world.

My Secret, Chapter 7

2008-03-24T12:12:00.000-07:00

Chapter 7:
A secret meeting

My breath was cold in the chilly night air, and I pulled my wrap tighter around me. I was fighting off a continual urge to turn around and look back at the house – to see if there were any candles flickering in the windows. There weren't, however. The house was dark and silent, and as far as I knew, no-one was aware that I was missing. Good, I thought, smiling a little at Mrs Medlock being completely unaware that her protegee was currently hurrying through the manor gardens, in the middle of the night, clad only in a thin dress and a wrap! I felt a kind of wicked pleasure in this, and my heart beat grew faster. I wondered why I had never attempted this before now? sneaking out of the house had been even easier than I had anticipated, and now the cottage where Dickon lived was only a short walk away.

The moon was high in the starry sky when I left, and it cast a pale glow on the trees and paths of the walk. I felt frightened, but excited, as I strode down the gravel path – the events of the afternoon never far from my mind. I had never experienced anything like it, and I wanted Dickon badly. The urge to be with him was almost overpowering me, and it took every bit of self control I had not to go running up to the cottage.

I don't know how I did it, but somehow I had managed to sit through that dinner with my uncle, making conversation about Colin, and of London and the Sutherland family. But my thoughts had only been on Dickon. It was as though his kiss had started something within me that had filled me up from the inside. All I knew was that I felt as though I'd die if I didn't see him again. I walked on, looking for the familiar sight of the small brick cottage.

All of a sudden I saw it, walked a few paces more, then stopped dead in my tracks. The crunching of my feet on the gravel had began to sound louder than they had before, and now every movement I made seemed to reverberate throughout the whole yard. I snapped back to reality, stopped daydreaming about Dickon, and it wasn't a moment too soon. Up ahead, a light had flickered on in the darkness of the cottage. I ran behind a nearby tree, framed by the surrounding garden, and hid there, watching as the large, gaunt figure of Ben Weatherstaff appeared in the doorway.

'Ah! Bloody rheumatics!', I heard him say as he stretched on the porch, leaning his large hands onto his back. He was clad in a pair of what looked like old, red, long johns. I stiffledd a giggle, all at once thinking hysterically of what he would do if he found me hidden in the bush in front of his house. He looked so commical – so unlike his usual stern and stiff demeanour. Tufts of white hair sprung up from his head and out at funny angles. He has just woke up, I thought. I clapped a hand over my mouth in a desperate effort to stop the laughter within me from spluttering out, but in my hysteria, a giggle escaped. Simultaneously, I leaned further into the tree, without realising that an old wheelbarrow had been parked nearby. I must have knocked into it, for it went crashing to the ground, casting an ugly din into the still night air. I leant further against the tree, trying to melt into the bush: for all that Ben was old, his hearing, I knew, was still excellent, and as if on cue, I heard him call out in a quivering voice.

'Hello? is someone out there?' a few seconds passed, and I felt my heart race. After not receiving an answer he tried again, this time in a more gruff tone: 'I'll trust thee to stay away from my Gardening tools, whoever it is...' he trailed off, then muttered 'Bloody thieving gypsies, most like...' I saw him lean into the doorway of the house and call out gruffly: 'Dickon, come ere will tha! I hear noises in tha yard... come on boy! I think them gypsies are out there!' a second or two later, I heard a commotion coming from inside the dark cottage, coupled with Ben Weatherstaff's remark of 'Lazy boy...' It was almost a universally accepted truth to those that knew him, that Ben Weatherstaff was not a man who bestowed compliments lightly (or in most cases, at all).

Shortly I heard footsteps from inside the house and saw a familiar figure emerge in the doorway next to Ben. A sleep tousled Dickon with his long hair ruffled more than usual, donning a pair of pants and a loosely buttoned untucked shirt, which had obviously been thrown on in haste in the dark of his bedroom. My heart leapt at the sight of him, and I found I was not able to tear my gaze away. Still, I didn't want to startle Dickon, at least not in plain sight of Ben Weatherstaff, so I slowly made to move around to the side of the house. My movement did not go unnoticed, and I inwardly cursed under my breath. 'Does tha hear that, boy!' Ben exclaimed excitedly 'Tha' noise, comin' from ova there?!' I caught Dickon's voice, calm and collected 'Aye Ben, I hear it.' and then from Ben 'Well don't just stand there boy, rubbin' tha eyes like that. Get theeself out in tha yard and see wha it is.' 'Alright, Ben', I heard Dickon say, in a weary tone. Ben didn't seem to notice, and voiced his approval, and muttered something I couldn't quite make out, that contained the words 'Gypsies' and 'Gardenin' tools'. I moved as quickly and quietly as I could, further around the edge of the house, trying to make as little noise as possible, all the while, hearing Dickon's feet upon the gravel, advancing towards me.
Dickon moved loudly at first, then his footsteps grew quieter, and he moved almost stealthily though the night. I continued edging my way further around the house, wincing every now and again as twigs brushed my head and became ensnared on my clothes. Thankfully, I had now neared the side of the house, away from the commanding glare of Ben Weatherstaff, but unfortunately, right into the path of a large climbing rose. I gasped as the thorns became entangled in my clothing and scratched my hands and face, and struggled to free myself. Just then, I heard the crackle of broken twigs behind me and a cold voice say 'Turn around... and show theeself.'

I turned around slowly towards the towering figure of Dickon, illuminated in the moonlight, and as I did so, I felt him reach down and roughly grab my arm. As he shifted position, a shaft of moonlight fell on me and he saw my face. His expression changed from that of anger, to surprise, and then to fear. 'Miss Mary!', he whispered, a shocked expression gracing his features. 'Wha' is tha doing here?'

'I came to see you, of course', I whispered back, as loudly as I dared. 'and Dickon please let go of my arm, you're hurting me.' He dropped my arm and then bent down to help me untangle myself. 'But lass, in tha middle of tha night! if Ben finds you here he'll have to tell Mrs Medlock.'

Suddenly, as if on cue Ben's voice rang out 'Find anything yet, boy?' Dickon stood up. 'Aye Ben, twas only a wee cat, nothin' ta' worry about. I'll be in shortly, aye.' 'Hummmph' Ben grunted, and then his footsteps retreated inside the house.

'Come on', Dickon whispered, and took my hand, quickly leading me away from the house. We hurried away, heading towards the kitchen gardens. Once we were far enough away, we broke into a run, the tension easing as we did so, the excitement of the night setting in. I felt my face break into a smile, and Dickon's hand felt warm over mine.

'Lass, if I grow ta be an old man of ninety, I swear I'll never know anyone as canny as tha!' Dickon laughed, pausing to catch his breath. 'wha possed thee to sneak out of tha house? did tha miss me that much? it wasna that tha just fancied a little stroll through the garden at night?!'

I looked up into his broad, smiling face. 'Of course it was you I came to see, silly!' I exclaimed. 'Who else would I be sneaking around the cottage for? - Ben Weatherstaff?!'

Dickon laughed, and gripped my hand tightly. 'Aye, well they say he was a handsome enough fellow in his day', he replied, laughing, then reached down to encircle his arms around me, and drew me close to him. 'Of course, I never would have thought I'd have competition in such an old bachaelor, but...'

'Well, like you said, he was once a very handsome man', I replied, 'but I must admit – I do prefer my beaus to be slightly younger.'

Dickon drew me closer to him then, and we stood with our arms around each other, melting into the darkness together. I felt him reach down and kiss my hair, and then bring his hand up to smooth out the tangles in it.

'Can I speak freely to tha... Mary?' he asked.

'Yes', I replied. 'But lets sit down first.'

We wandered over, arm in arm, to one of the stone benches that were littered around the kitchen gardens. The tension of the previous events of evening had now drained away, and all I could think of was that I was with Dickon. I felt complete, safe and secure... whole.

'Well', he began 'I think I ought to tell tha... '

'Go on Dickon,' I urged gently, noticing that he had trailed off somewhat.

'Its just that...' he shrugged, then rushed out with 'I think I have loved tha' for along time now, Miss Mary.'

I felt a flush of warmth descend through my body as he said this. Images of days spent together in the garden descending through my mind. Of warm summer days, the sweet scent of the roses, Dickon's laughter, the garden, everything.

'You have?' I said.

'Aye, I have', he replied with great solemity. 'And Mary... I'm glad tha came tonight ta' see me. I'm more happy than I kin say.'

'I'm happy too, Dickon,' I replied, feeling tears welling up in my eyes and threatening to spill down my cheeks 'You make me feel so happy.'

Dickon's face broke into a huge, ecstatic grin as I said this, but then his look turned to puzzlement and concern when he noticed that I had begun to cry.

'But lass, why does tha' weep?' he asked, concernedly stroking my face, softly wiping away my tears with his hand.

I sniffed and tried to smile, 'I just feel so ... I feel too much about you', that's all Dickon. And I'm leaving in three days time... I don't want to go!' I burst out. 'I want to stay here with you and the garden, I want to be with you.'

The emotion surged up within me, threatening to break my control. I thought of how soon I would be leaving for London and leaving Dickon behind. He wouldn't be able to follow where I went. I felt so uncertain about the future. All I knew was that right now, I wanted to be with Dickon, and that being with him made me feel complete. As if in a trance, I reached up and kissed him desperately, and felt him kiss me back with equal passion.

'Don't stop', I whispered when he finally broke away.

'I don't want to, Miss Mary', he whispered back, and drew me closer to him. The feelings cascaded through me, with such intensity that I thought I would swoon. I felt the magic begin to rise up in me once again, and I knew that Dickon felt it too. It was the magic that said anything was possible, that the two of us could live forever and ever and ever. That we could do anything. That the world was ours. Kissing Dickon brought me closer to that point of infinity, and I felt as though the two of us could lift up into the heavens and go soaring through the stars together. It was like an endless summer day, like the beauty of a rose in that strange twilight time before dawn, like the rising of the sun over the land in spring. In that moment, I knew that I had also loved Dickon too, perhaps from the moment I met him as a young girl, when he had been the boy that charmed animals and lived wild and free on the moors. The boy that had smelt of heather and gorse that seemed to be part of the very land itself – timeless and ancient. I wanted him more than I had ever wanted anything.

I felt his hands slide around my waist and then reach up, further. I felt his fingers through my thin dress, exploring me, touching me in places I had never been touched.

I broke away and looked up into his face, seeing a wanting look in his dark eyes. I said yes to him, with every inch of my being. No words were needed. Time seemed to stand still as I felt his warm hands caressing my skin, stroking me softly and I felt an overwhelming desire to feel him – to know that he was mine. I reached up, placing my hands on his back, marvelling at the hard muscles that lay beneath his shirt. My hands slid down his back, coming down to where his shirt lay open. I couldn't resist, and reached up inside his shirt, touching his warm, smooth skin.

He gasped as I touched him but did not ask me to stop, so I slowly moved my hand up and down, marvelling at the smoothness of him, and the hardness of his muscles. He groaned, bending down to lightly kiss my neck. 'Ah, tha feels so good...' he muttered, in a tone that I hadn't heard him use before.

His lips on my neck, lightly caressing me, caused me to begin shaking. But I was not shaking with fear. I was shaking more with desire, with wanting him. I wanted him to keep going, knowing that this was not all, that there was something more. I moaned, and his kisses on my skin grew deeper.

Then a loud voice piercing the air broke us out of our reverie.

'Dickon? where are tha, lad?'

I froze and pulled my hands away, and Dickon did the same.

'Its Ben, he's lookin for me.' Dickon said, looking up, wild eyed. 'Lord, I forgot all about him. He would ha' been waitin.'

'Go to him', I said urgently. 'we can't have him find us here.'

'Aye', but before I go...

He kissed me once again, and although it was brief it was not lacking in passion. He gasped as he pulled away.

'Ah! tha has a lot to answer for, old man!' he said with mock anger, gesturing in frustration towards the direction of the cottage. I pulled my wrap tightly around me, feeling the desire still pulsing within me.

'I have to see you again, Dickon', I said, getting up with him. 'Tomorrow night then? the same time? I will be quieter, I promise.'

'Aye, but lets meet in tha' secret garden. Not tha' cottage, tis too risky. I dinna want Ben catchin ya, he is a crafty old man.'

'Goodnight then, Dickon... till tomorrow', I said, clasping his hands.

'Aye, and take care Mary. I canna wait for tomorrow night to come, aye.' He paused and then said softly 'I love thee.'

I looked down, felt him unclasp his hands from mine, and before I had a chance to respond, he was gone, having melted stealthily into darkness like a creature of the night. I looked down at my hands, they were shaking... I felt as though the world had tilted on it's axis. Feelings collided through me, and I felt wild and alive with possibilities and excitement. No dream could ever have been as beautiful as what had just happened between Dickon and I.

'Tomorrow night it is then, ' I whispered softly, drawing my wrap around me. 'Until then, goodbye Dickon... and ... I... I love you too.'

My Secret, Chapter 6

2008-03-24T12:06:00.000-07:00

Chapter 6:
Archie's consolation

We had moved beyond friendship and were heading towards something infinitely more powerful. Dickon had kissed me – and I had kissed him back. I had felt his warm arms around me and had a felt a surge of feeling more powerful than I had ever known. Dickon's touch, and his warmth had made me feel more alive than I had in so long.

“You have no idea how long I've wanted this”, he had said.

Our parting had been difficult, but Dickon had already spent as much time as he dared in the garden. We had stood together, under the old Apple tree and he had kissed me once again. I had felt that moment of eternity flashing before my eyes, and with difficulty, we had parted.

'Well Miss Mary', he had said somewhat cheekily, with a smile, 'now Ben will really have a reason to disapprove of you!'

'I doubt it', I had replied, 'I'm not the one who is kissing young ladies when he should be working.' I had blushed then, but Dickon just threw back his head and laughed.

'Ah Lass! I pity the man who ever tries to get the better of you.'

I loved his laugh, and his cheeky smile. Without thinking, I reached up once again and kissed him quickly, and felt emotion rising up within me.

'Goodbye, Dickon', I had said. Not trusting myself to glance into those eyes again.

'I'll see you soon aye? he had asked, then smiling in pleasure at my affirmative nod had turned away, with his cap in his hands. I watched him as he walked away. Was it just my imagination, or was there more of a lightness to his step? He reached the door of the garden, and turned around and waved at me, smiling. I had waved back then.

I will see your eyes in every grain of sand, I thought.

I sat alone in the garden now, watching the sun beginning to drop over the horizon, and it's beams cast the garden with an amber glow. I couldn't remember the last time I had felt so deleriously happy, and simultaneously at a loss of how to proceed. My thoughts were in turmoil. Dickon loves me! I thought and felt as though my heart would burst with happiness. And I'm leaving! how can I leave now? how can I leave Dickon? Thoughts of Dickon seemed to have risen the surface of my mind and dominated everything else. I wondered what he was doing now, and wished that we could be together. Our time spent in the garden today had been all too brief, and I longed for him. Although he had left soon after we kissed it hadn't been awkward. He had held me in his arms and his smile had been so bright and alive, his eyes radiating light and happiness. I think we understood each other now, and I knew that neither of us had anything to fear from the other anymore. More than that, there had begun a desire between us that was longing to be fulfilled.

When I reached the house, I was still in a daze of feeling. Luckily, Mrs Medlock hadn't yet returned, so I was able to change back into my silk slippers and tidy my hair up before she arrived back from her trip to the village. I was just brushing my hair, when Sarah entered, curtsying when she saw me.

I was in the process of brushing my hair and softly humming to myself, smiling gently as I did so. She gave me a surprised look to see me so obviously changed in temperment before composing herself and saying 'I've been sent to tell ye that Master Craven would like to see you for dinner.'

'Thank you, Sarah', I replied then asked her to come over and help me pin my hair up. She headed towards me, taking the hairbrush I offered her, and a couple of hair pins from my dresser.

'My Miss! you've got your hair in a mess today!'

'Yes, I'm afraid I spent too much time outdoors'. then 'Oh Sarah, I've had such a wonderful day. I've been out all day working in the garden, and Dickon joined me – I felt myself blush as I said his name 'and he...helped'.

'Oh, very nice Miss. He is a lovely young lad.' she began pinning my hair up. 'Perhaps its a good thing that Mrs Medlock was away this morning.' I turned to her and she winked conspiratorily at me. 'Don't worry Miss, I won't tell her you were in the garden today, you can trust me.'

'Thank you Sarah, ' I said, feeling more warmth towards her than I had ever felt. More than anything, I wished we had the close relationship I had shared with Martha, who I had trusted with my most intimate secrets. However, Martha had been married for almost two years now, and I hadn't really had a girl I could talk to since then. Although I still visited her occasionally on my infrequent trips to the village, she was very much a married woman, and now had a young baby to look after.

'That's very nice of Dickon Sowerby to help you miss. I thought he was under Ben Weatherstaff's employ – does he still tend to the Secret Garden also?'

'Yes, he had always enjoyed spending time in the secret garden. He helped me bring it back to life many years ago. He's such a lovely person and a great friend of mine, Sarah. I've known him since I was a child.'

'And a very handsome young man, too, Miss' she replied, with a smile on her face. I blushed as she said this, and she suddenly became aware of this, giving me a quizzical expression. I looked away quickly, turning back to the looking glass. I had not thought before of Dickon being handsome. I had known him for so long that he was just 'Dickon' to me. Suddenly it dawned on me that Sarah was a young woman, too – only a year or so older than myself, and would no doubt have noticed Dickon from her time spent at Misseltwaite. Without knowing why, I felt a surge of jealousy pass through me as she called him 'handsome'. I suppose already, I was beginning to think of Dickon as mine and wondered if Sarah had noticed him, perhaps others had also?

'How long have you known Dickon, Sarah?' I asked, trying to keep my tone even.

She continued to pin my hair, talking as she worked.

'Oh, I wouldn't say 'known' Miss. He's just always around the house, and I've said hello to him a few times.' She looked at me then whispered 'a few of the maids find him quite handsome and often talk about him.' She giggled. 'I'm not surprised they have their eye on him. He's a lovely young man'.

I sat in silence digesting this information. I had no idea that Dickon had even been noticed by the housemaids. Then I realised that he ate his meals in the servants kitchen every day, which meant he probably interacted with them frequently.

'There we are Miss, finished!' Sarah exclaimed, handing me the looking glass so I could observe her handiwork. My hair was once more immaculately pinned and fashioned on my head, hiding the girl that had worked so happily in the garden, with her long hair down around her shoulders.

'Does my Uncle expect me soon, Sarah?' I asked her.

'Yes Miss, he said that you were to come straight up to his Library once you were ready.'
She turned and exited the room. I sat on my chair facing the dresser and it's looking glass, feeling both excited and sad. Somehow I knew that I had to see Dickon again, but when?

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

It was dark outside when I entered my Uncle's Library. He was sitting behind his large, Mahogany desk, surrounded by countless books and papers. As long as I had known him, my Uncle had loved his books, and would spend many hours in his Library. He looked up and saw me standing by the door and motioned me to come in.

'Mary, come in child, come in.' He gestured to a leather armchair beside his desk and I sat down looking over at him.

Physically, my uncle had aged very little since I had first arrived at Misseltwaite over 5 years ago. He was still a tall man, despite the illness that afflicted him, and his hair was still devoid of grey. It was still long, and cascaded down past his shoulders. Unruly hair, much like Colin's, although Colin preferred to keep his hair in a shorter style, as was popular in London.

'So', he began 'I hear Mrs Medlock has been preparing you for your trip to London.'

'She has', I replied curtly, wondering where this was leading. My uncle was already aware of my thoughts on the subject, and although we hadn't spoken in depth since the time we argued about my future, I was sure he knew the depth of my feeling.

'I wanted to talk to you Mary', he said, turning towards nervously folding his slender hands together. 'I know you have not been happy about the thought of going to London, and I felt as though you deserved an explanation.'

'I would like to know why I have to go at all?', I exclaimed, feeling anger rising up within me.

'Yes, I'm sure you would, and I ought to tell you.' He fumbled around his desk, pouring himself a draft of spirits. I watched his smooth, pale hands tremble slightly as he took a drink, his face tensing at the bitter taste of the whiskey. He looked at me intently, studying my face.

'Mary, you look so much like your Mother... the older you get, the more you are coming to resemble her. Your Mother... she and Lilias were twins, you know.'

I had known this for some time, since I had found pictures of the two of them as a child while living with my parents in India. I nodded.

'I met her when I went to London for a season as a young man. Your Mother, Elizabeth was so bright and full of life, she had many men attracted to her. Lilias was more quiet and reserved, but had the kindest, most gentle nature you could imagine. She took time to speak to me when no one else would. It was through her that I learned the meaning of love and companionship. I was such a bitter and lonely man before I knew her, Mary, and having her in my life made me feel happier than I had ever thought possible. All I want to say is that I can only wish you the same happiness, which is why I am sending you to London. I want you to have the opportunity to meet a young man who will make you happy, and help provide for you after I am gone.'

My uncle continued.

'I'm so sorry if I have distressed you in any way, Mary, and I hope that one day you'll understand. There is just nothing for you here, and no way that I can ensure that you will find someone to love you how you deserve to be loved.'

I felt so confused. My uncle really did care about me, that much was certain. And how was he to know that I had fallen in love with Dickon and that all I needed was right here at Misseltwaite? Even more so, I was surprised that my uncle had opened up to me about his early life. I had never known much about his wife, Colin's mother, who had died giving birth to Colin. I had only known what I could glean from Colin, from Martha, Mrs Medlock, and the other servants. I looked at him, as he drank, and suddenly imagined him as a young man, hidden away from the world, and then finding love for the first time. I understood that he wasn't sending away because it would have been the wish of my parents, he was sending me away because he thought it would give me the same opportunity to find happiness as it had done for him.

'I understand, Uncle', I said, looking up at him and meeting his gaze. 'But if I go to London, I want to be able to come back to visit, and more often than Colin does.' I swallowed. 'I want to be able to spend time in my garden and with Dickon... and ...'

My uncle smiled warmly. 'My dear child, of course.'

'I just don't think I could stand being away from the garden for too long', I added.

'I understand', he said, 'but I think over time you'll find the Sutherlands to be excellent hosts. Not only that but London is teeming with life and exciting things for young people. I have no doubt that after a time you'll be finding life at Misseltwaite very dull indeed compared to the excitement of the city, and will not want to come back and visit your old Uncle'.

'No, I don't think so', I said firmly, showing no reaction to his humour.

'Anyway, come now', he said, getting up as if he hadn't heard me. 'You must be starving, and Cook has prepared a delicious meal for us. It will be one of our last meals together after all.'

He made his way to the door of the Library and I followed him, but I wasn't thinking about dinner, or of my Uncle or of going to London. I was thinking about Dickon. I had to see him, and soon, but how? I padded down the dark hallway, after my Uncle, noting how quiet my steps were in my silk slippers. A thought came to my mind. If I could walk this quietly through the house it wouldn't be difficult to creep out of my room, down the stairs and head outside tonight. No, I thought to myself, feeling a smile begin to form, it wouldn't be difficult at all.

My Secret, Chapter 5

2008-03-24T12:02:00.000-07:00

Chapter 5:
Love's beautiful infinity

Fours days and I would be in London, I thought miserably, as I viewed my appearance in the mirror. I was clad in a long white dress that was buttoned up high on my neck. The buttons were of pearl, my gloves were of lace, and upon my feet I wore satin slippers. I looked at myself for a long time, wondering who this stranger was that stared back at me. The young woman in the mirror looked every inch a lady – the young woman on the other side of the mirror felt as though she was an impostor, and longed to break free from the life she had been forced to live. 'Just wait, be patient', I murmured to myself.

Presently, Sarah joined me in my room, holding a large wide-brimmed hat in her hands – designed no doubt to 'shade my face and delicate features' from the sun. 'Here Miss, put this on', she said to me, with a yorkshire accent that was still heavy. Sarah had only been at Misselthaite for less than a year and still carried the accent of her home and upbringing. 'Come on now, it won't bite', she remarked, upon seeing the apparent scowl on my face. Sighing, I lifted it up onto my head and then stood impatiently as she fastened it under my chin.
'There now, don't you just look lovely?' she said to me, smiling. I didn't reply, but walked over to the window and watched the scurrying and activities happening below at the front of the house. A carriage was being prepared for Mrs Medlock, who would be spending the day visiting her sister in the village. Her outings like this were rare and the opportunity it presented was not lost on me. I knew that this was to be one of my last days of freedom before London beckoned, and if that was so, I intended to make the most of it. I turned and came towards her.

'Sarah?', I asked.

'Yes Miss?', she replied, turning from the wardrobe.

'Is it possible for you to bring me my old gardening boots? I fancy a walk through the garden, and these slippers really aren't suitable.'

I saw her wrinkle her nose slightly as if she wanted to say but why on earth would you want to do that? but she responded kindly.

'Yes Miss, I'll fetch them for you right away.' Bobbing a curtsey, she left and I returned to the window. I stood, half hidden behind the heavy curtains, and watched as Mrs Medlock got into the carriage, feeling excitement rise up in my chest. I felt more alive than I had for weeks, and I felt the despair that had been consuming me, begin to lift. Now there was nothing standing in the way of me spending time in the secret garden... and with Dickon.

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

It was unusually warm for an early autumn day and once I left the house and entered the secluded pathway, I found myself unbuttoning the collar of my dress. Breathing freely once again, I immersed myself in the sounds and scents of the walk. Overhead I could hear the birds chirping in the tall trees, and as I walked, the smell of dry leaves crunching underfoot rose up to meet me. The shady paths began to give way to the spacious vegetable and herb gardens, where Dickon and Ben Weatherstaff worked. I couldn't see them anywhere, but knew that they couldn't be too far away. I also knew that this would be one of my last chances to speak to Dickon, and that I was bound to see him this morning in the garden. Maybe now, things would be able to go back to the way they were, I thought... although part of me still remembered what had happened that morning in the garden, and I felt my heart beat quicken. I remembered the softness of his voice when he had said 'and you are mine, Miss Mary', and the way our faces had nearly touched. Was it really so terrible to wish that something more had happened that day? that he had, I blushed, kissed me? I had never been kissed by anyone before, and could only imagine how the soft feel of his lips on mine would be. I could hardly wait to see him and drew on impatiently to the garden.

At last I came upon it, and pushed the door open. I entered, and looked around for Dickon's familiar form, bent over and working in the garden. I didn't see him, and after a quick search it became obvious he was nowhere to be found. Sighing a little, I sat down near the flowerbeds and removed my gloves, readying myself for weeding. He was not here now, but there were signs that he had been here recently. Some of the rose bushes had been pruned and the dead growth from the garden had been removed. I was confident that if I waited long enough, he would come. 'Patience, patience', I murmered, and then set about my task.

Midday was approaching fast, and the day had grown very warm. I had spent most of the morning weeding the garden, and had now moved to a shady spot under one of the Apple trees surrounded by Empress of India lillies. I had worked hard in the garden, and could now feel tiredness overwhelming me. Surely it would be alright if I rested for a while, I thought, thinking of how nice it would be to lay down under the tree on the lush grass and stare up at the saphire sky through the branches. Slowly, dreamily, I lowered myself down onto a dry patch of grass and eased myself back, feeling the warmth of the ground and the scent of flowers rising up all around me. I released my hair, so I could be more comfortable and spread it out under my head like a makeshift pillow. Dreamily I stared up at the branches and leaves, noting the deep blue sky behind them. It was all so peaceful, so lovely and tranquil. I couldn't remember the last time I had felt so at peace. I unbuttoned my dress slightly, so I could feel the warmth of the sun on my bare skin. Breathing in the heavy scent of the flowers, I sighed and closed my eyes.

The sound of twigs snapping drew me out of my slumber. Sleepily, I opened my eyes, then drew my hand up to shield them from the sun. I turned my head slightly, and saw Dickon, sitting a few feet away from me. He saw me looking at him, and smiled shyly.

'I didna want to wake ye', he said softly, not meeting my gaze 'yeh looked so peaceful asleep'.

'Mmmm...' I said, rubbing my eyes 'I didn't mean to fall asleep.' I yawned 'and I'm still so tired.'

'Ye've been asleep these last two hours past', he replied, something of a slight smile showing on his face 'thought it would be best if ye didna sleep the whole day away.'

I looked at him closely and noticed how calm and relaxed he seemed. He carried the look that he'd often had in the past – one of tenderness and patience, that I had seen displayed so many times on his face, whenever he had cared for one of his creatures.

'You mean to say', I began 'that you've been here these last two hours?'

'Aye', he smiled 'keeping me from me gardenin' duties you are. Better not tell Ben, eh.'

Suddenly, it occurred to me that all the awkwardness between us had vanished. I smiled at him and sat up.

'Well, for your sake I hope he doesn't still have that ladder of his and hasn't been peeping over the top of the hedges at you!'

'Ah lass!', he laughed 'He'd be seeing you too, aye? and what would he say to that – a lady asleep in the middle of a flowerbed?!'

We both laughed at this, and still laughing, Dickon said ' Eh hold on, I think tha has a bug in tha hair - don't move now aye', and before I could say anything he was reaching over to me, his fingers lightly brushing my hair, his face only inches away from mine. 'There,' he said huskily, 'I think thats got it.'

He said this, but did not pull away, and I sat still as his fingers moved from my hair, down to the side of my face. He moved like a man in a dream, entranced by what he had seen. His touch seemed to awaken my skin, and I could feel where his fingers had been, as though I was on fire. I must have gasped because he went to pull his hand away, but I reached down and stopped him, holding my hand over his. Slowly, I looked up to his face, and his deep searching eyes, finding myself unable to take myself away from his gaze.

'Mary, ... I...I...' and then, unable to say what he needed to in words, he reached down and kissed me.

I had thought before that the touch of his fingers on my skin had caused me to feel as though I was on fire, but his kiss was much more than that. I felt his soft mouth on mine, warming me up from the inside out. I felt a wonderous sensation begin to build inside me as I kissed him back. The whole world felt more alive than it had ever done before, everything new and exciting. I found myself matching his passionate kisses and all my thoughts and worries vanished in an ecstascy of feeling – where there was only Dickon – his warmth his touch, and his mouth on mine.

After what seemed like an eternity, we parted, and he said shakily 'tha has no idea how long I've wanted ta do that.'

'You've got no idea how long I've wanted to do that', I replied, feeling myself still trembling inside. 'That was...' I struggled to think of words to describe it ... beautiful.'

'Aye lass, I know', he whispered, and pulled me to him, so that I was leaning on his broad chest. He wrapped his arms around me and I did the same to him, resting my head on his shoulder. One of his hands reached up and stroked my hair lightly, and he kissed my cheek softly. I marvelled at the feel of him, of his hard body beneath mine, feeling his strong arms wrapped around me. I felt safe, I felt loved... I felt... complete. The moment was more than beautiful, it was eternal.

My Secret, chapter 4

2008-03-24T12:00:00.000-07:00

Chapter 4:
When you feel you have lost your way

Almost three weeks had passed since that fateful day in the garden. The weeks had flown by in a series of dress fittings, outings to the village, and general preparations for my imminent departure. Time was moving quickly, the end of September fast approaching, and with it, the end of my time at Misselthaite and the end of my days of freedom in the garden.

Dickon and I hadn't really spoken since that awkward moment in the garden – the one that I constantly replayed over and over in my mind whenever I was alone. The feeling of his arm around me, the warmth and nearness of his body, the look in his eyes... the magic I had felt pass through us, his face leaning closer to mine... Alone at night, lying in bed, I would think of that moment and imagine Dickon's face edging closer to mine, his arm around me still. Except that in my imaginings, he wouldn't pull away from me. He would draw closer and closer until it felt as though we had become one.

I had begun to experience an intense longing to see him, and would use any excuse I could to sneak out of the house to watch him work. I would watch as he chatted amicably to Ben Weatherstaff, noting the tilt of his cap upon his head, and the casual and relaxed way he leaned upon the handle of his spade. I would watch him as he went about his duties in the garden, and when he walked a rake slung over his broad shoulders. I longed to speak to him, but my feelings were too confused for me to know what to say, or where to begin. I worried that Dickon felt embarrassed over what had happened. He kept his distance from me and I from him, beyond the occasional mumbled greeting and downward glance of eyes we partok in whenever we crossed each other's path. Something had definitely passed between us in the garden, a feeling that I had never experienced in all our years of being friends. It was deeper, and infinitely more powerful. And it was this feeling now, that caused the awkwardness between us. So I continued to watch Dickon from the shadows, unsure of how to proceed.

When I wasn't watching Dickon, I was engaged in more mundane duties within the house. Mrs Medlock had taken it upon herself to 'instruct me how to behave like a lady' in all manners, and almost overnight, my freedom to wander around Misselthaite and do as I pleased, had been taken away. My day was now filled with a continued monologue of instruction on the 'proper' way to do things. 'Now Miss Mary', she would say, glaring pointedly at me 'ladies do not run through corridors, nor do they come tramping into the house with mud on their boots!', 'ladies do not spend hours out of doors, and in the full glare of the sun!', 'ladies do not grip a teacup in that manner!' and so it went on. Worst of all, I had been fitted in a new corset, which Mrs Medlock had insisted be pulled as tight as possible. My lovely comfortable gardening clothes had been replaced overnight by stiff gowns of the latest fashion, with impossibly tight lacing. These restricted both my breathing and movement and by the end of the day, left my body feeling sore and bruised. Of course, this was something else that would 'make me a lady' and Mrs Medlock remarked once, when I complained to her about it, that it was simply something I must endure and would grow used to, in time. In time, I thought bitterly, thinking of the endless days of tight lacing and behaving in a 'proper' manner. No longer was my hair left to flow free, but was now pulled back each morning, into a severe bun and pinned to my head. The complete effect was startling – I looked more like a lady every day, yet in my heart I had never felt so miserable and caged.

I had tried to rebel at first. I had untied my hair, and loosened the laces of my corset until my breath came easily again. I had unbuttoned the front of my gown and kicked off my satin slippers to replace them with my gardening boots. I had set off defiantly to the garden where I had sat digging furiously at the weeds that had sprung up in my absense. Of course, when Mrs Medlock found out where I had been, and more importantly, the wild look of my dress, she became more severe and critical than ever before.

Numerous times I had thought about just going to speak with Dickon, and wished that that our conversation could flow freely between us again, as it had always done before. Apart from the occasional greetings when we crossed each other's path, we hadn't really spoken since that morning in the garden.

Autumn had come to the garden now, and I watched sadly as the leaves on the trees turned brown and started to fall. Autumn signalled the end of my time at Misselthaite. In less than a week, I would be boarding a train bound for London. All the details had been planned out, and I was aware that Mrs Medlock would accompany me to London, where the Sutherlands would be awaiting me. My last journey had proved my release, and this one was to be the beginning of my imprisonment.

I began to have horrible nightmares, as the time for me to leave drew closer. Horrible vivid dreams, where I would wake up sweating and shaking. In some of them, I was in India wandering around my parent's bungalow, completely alone. In other dreams, I saw everyone I had ever cared for, far off in the distance – and no matter how fast I ran towards them, I could never catch up. But the worst dreams were those that involved Dickon and the garden. In these dreams I would be kept in London so long that I would return to Misselthaite to find it a desolate and deserted house. I would walk slowly down the path to the secret garden only to find it savaged by years of wind and rain, over-run with weeds and Ivy, the roses all dying on their branches. I would call and call for Dickon, but he would never come and somehow, in these dreams, I knew that he was gone forever and would not be coming back. I thought then to myself, that I would never get another chance to speak to Dickon before I left. I thought I wouldn't get to tell him how much I cared for him. I thought that the magic would disappear and be lost forever. I thought this, but I was wrong.

My Secret, Chapter 3

2008-03-24T11:53:00.000-07:00

Chapter 3:
When friendship becomes something more...

I pulled open the heavy curtains and felt the morning light break into the room, casting its beams on the heavy oak furniture of my bedroom. The morning was bright and fresh, the land green and still. I felt my spirits soar for a few seconds, and then reality caused them to come crashing down. I would be leaving all this behind, in less than a month, and this morning I had a wardrobe fitting with Mrs Medlock to look forward to.

Sarah had been my maid since Martha had left to get married, two years ago and I did not wait for her to come in and help me dress. I shrugged off my nightgown, shivering slightly in the cool air and stepped towards the washbasin on my nightstand. I splashed a little water on my face and under my arms, buttoned up my stays and pulled on the dress from yesterday, thinking of Mrs Medlock's comment while I was lacing up my muddy boots “Make a lady of her, indeed” she had said. And what would she say to me now, hair tousled and unbrushed, wearing the muddy boots from the garden and a dress that was stained in several places. With a smile something like satisfaction, I carefully opened the door and crept out into the hallway.
The walk outside was still, and I ran briskly, breathing in the fresh, crisp air and hearing no sound but for the crunching of my boots on the gravel, and the occasional early morning chirping of the robins and blackbirds. My heart was pounding at the thought of seeing him, and I thought once again to how his touch had felt last night. More than anything, I longed to see him. Dickon, my friend since childhood, felt like the last person I knew who really understood me.

I looked around me as I made my way through the paths to the secret garden. The leaves on the trees were beginning to colour and fall to the ground. It was the beginning of Autumn, and the slight chill that was in the air spoke of cold times to come. I shivered inwardly, feeling that if I was to leave Misselthaite, that I would become like the garden in winter – bitter, cold, devoid of colour – any life I had left locked away, waiting for spring.

I saw Dickon as soon as I pushed open the heavy door that lead to the secret garden. He was bent over his work, weeding the garden, and it looked as though he must have been there at least an hour before I arrived. He had a trowel in one hand and was pulling weeds out with a kind of fierce determination. He didn't see me approach, and I crept up softly behind him. I noticed that his cap was askew on his head and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up. He was humming something under his breath, and I smiled. Seeing Dickon, working in our garden always made me feel happy – safe and secure in the knowledge that although the world kept changing around me, some things would always remain the same.

Slowly I crept up to him, resisting the urge to giggle. He had stopped humming, but was still concentrating intently on what he was doing. I got within two paces of him then heard him say with some amusement in his voice 'If tha was thinkin' of surprisin me lass, tha will have to do betta than that!' I laughed, and went to sit down at his side. 'Careful Miss Mary, ye will get yer dress all dirty like. here', he said taking off his woolen jersey from around his waist, and laying it on the ground beside him. 'sit on this, tis made a wool and will keep yer dress clean for ye.' He smiled and looked at me again 'although it looks like ye didna put too much attention to ye clothing this mornin'.

'Haha, very funny Dickon', I replied, 'you're insulting me for rushing down to meet you so early? what a terrible thing to say to a lady!'

'Ah, but not a lady yet...' then trailed off, his amusement dying away when he saw the hurt look pass over my eyes. 'I mean, er...'

'Thats alright', I said, looking down, thinking of Mrs Medlock's disparaging comment of the day before. Then thought 'well, if that's what being a lady is all about, then I don't want to be one!' I looked up. 'You know Dickon, they all think they can send me away and make me into “a lady” but I don't think I want to be a lady. If being a lady means wearing fancy gowns and paying calls and never getting my hands dirty, than I don't want to be one! I would much prefer to stay as I am, with the garden, and you, and...

I looked at Dickon then, and noticed his deep brown eyes. I suddenly felt a sadness overwhelm me and I looked away. Dickon's mouth was not smiling now. He looked up at me, slowly, gently 'Not everyone wants ye to leave, Miss Mary', he said sadly. I felt myself starting to tremble, my eyes welling up with tears. I tried in vain to hold them back, but one defiantly made its way down my cheek. I brushed it away, angry with myself for showing such weakness in front of Dickon. I had never liked him seeing me cry, and could not remember any other time that I had done it. He must have seen me wiping away my tears because he moved closer and put his arm around my shoulders. I hesitated at first, then leaned into him, and heard him say over and over 'Hush lass, it will all work out. You'll see, hush now Miss Mary.'

I felt an infinite sadness come over me, where there had only been beauty and wonder at the world. I saw myself, in years hence, bored and alone at countless dinner parties and other meaningless social gatherings. Swamped in lace, with my hands encased in gloves, with servants to follow my every order. Trapped like a bird in a cage with nowhere to go and no escape, no garden, and ... no Dickon. I cried out my frustration and anger, but becoming more aware of his soothing words and arm around my shoulders. The very presence of him, and his warm body both comforted and soothed me, until I wiped my eyes one final time, trying to regain my composure. 'Ah, I'm sorry Dickon', I said, my voice still trembling. 'I'm just so upset right now with everyone, and I feel so angry.'

He looked down on me then and smiled softly 'Although something tells me yer not angry at everyone', he said in a soft voice, and tightened his arm around me.

'No Dickon, of course not', I said sadly, then looked up at him 'You are my dearest friend, I hope you know that'.

His gaze became serious, and he said to me in a voice barely above a whisper 'And you are mine, Miss Mary.'

Looking back later, I think that was the first moment it happened. Something like magic passed between us both at that moment. The kind of magic that you feel when you are immersed in beauty – when you can see life and all it's possibilities around you. I looked into his eyes and saw their deep infinity, and a feeling passed over me. I felt as though the moment could last forever, I felt like I wanted to remain with Dickon, with his arm around mine. How odd that feeling was, but how lovely it was. Then I felt something else, an urgency, a feeling that his eyes caused within me, and I suddenly felt overwhelmed by feeling and moved away, not knowing what I should do. Dickon must have felt it also, because he pulled away from me, and began to gather up his gardening tools.

'Ah... excuse me, Miss Mary, but I have to...'

'Oh, don't worry, Dickon', I broke in, my voice unnaturally high. You have to report for duty, and everything. Er... I have to go too,' I smiled, but it felt false 'Shopping with Mrs Medlock. I had better not keep her waiting. I will see you later.'

I got up and turned away just then, walking towards the door of the garden, and feeling horribly confused. When I reached the door I looked back at him and saw him looking after me with a searching look in his face, his cap still slightly tilted, the trowel still in his hands. His image appeared to impress itself on my mind. Feeling my heart racing and my emotions in turmoil, I pulled the door open, slipped through the ivy covered walls, and was gone.

My Secret, chapter 2

2008-03-24T11:39:00.000-07:00

Chapter 2:
London beckons

Later that evening, I lay in bed, listening to the soft sound of the rain.
It had begun to rain a short while after I had returned, with Dickon at my side. He had walked with me, arm in arm, to the manor house, through the warm glow of evening. We had arrived at the house together, and I was feeling cheered by his constant reassurances. Of course, most of the time I was perfectly able to cheer myself up, but I had to admit how much Dickon's presence had soothed me. For a boy (or now, young man), I thought, he seemed to show a great deal of sensitvitiy.

But it had always been so with Dickon. Since I had first met him, I had thought of him as being kind, caring, and gentle. Now, having got to know him some more, I knew that the kindness was inherent in his nature, but he was not without a wicked sense of humour. I think I could live to be an old lady of ninety and never forget the time that he ate a live worm in front of me, saying 'mmm...' as he did so, as if he had just eaten one of the finest delicacies known to man!

The rain droned on overhead, and I turned in my bed, trying to make myself feel more comfortable. Usually, I found the rain both soothing and calming, and had often said to Martha that there was no better antidote to insomnia than falling asleep while listening to the rain fall outside. Tonight however, no sleep would come. I lay awake in the dark, watching the embers of the fire burn down within the grate, and knew that tonight, sleep would be a long time coming.

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It had all began three months ago, when my Uncle had invited me to share a cup of tea with him in his study.

We had begun by talking about Colin, and how he was doing in London with the Sutherland family. I knew all about the Sutherland family from his letters, which would arrive every month or so. There was Dr Sutherland, and Mrs Sutherland, and their children: William, Patricia, and Samantha. They lived in London where Dr Sutherland worked as a respected physician, tending to wealthy patrons (and once or twice those with royal affiliations, my Uncle had been quick to point out). Colin had gone to stay with the Sutherlands as arranged by our Uncle's brother, Dr. Craven, who had known Dr Sutherland from their schoolboy days. We laughed together as my uncle had read out a letter from Colin, detailing his latest escapade at school, then he had put the letter down on his desk and looked at me seriously with his dark eyes – as if seeing me for the first time.
'Mary, you know that Dr Sutherland's daughter, Samantha, is your age and will be entering society at the end of this year, once she turns sixteen.'
'Yes Uncle', I had said.
'You know Mary, when your parents died, I was appointed your legal guardian – and as such, it is my responsibility to see that you are cared for in the correct manner, and given a thorough education. Mary, I'm afraid that I have not been fulfilling the obligations to your parents in a major respect – that of preparing you for entering your place in society, as other young women begin to do at your age.'

I had looked at him then, wondering where this conversation was leading... I felt a feeling of dread beginning to form in the pit of my stomach and I looked intently at him and with such an obvious questioning in my eyes that he went on.

'Mary, it really is such a pity that you are stuck out here in the middle of nowhere, when other young ladies are given the opportunity to present themselves to society... I know that your parents would be very upset thinking of you running wild out here, at the age of fifteen!'
He had sighed then, and looked at me earnestly.

'What am I going to do with you, Mary? what do I know of raising a young woman? Don't think that I am so oblivious to you that I don't realise you're not a child any more – although scarcely a woman, but hardly a child.'

I sat before him, deep in thought. I knew all about young women entering society. I had grown up in India, where young ladies were schooled from childhood as to the specifics of being a lady. I had always found it all so boring and unnecessary – the endless dinner parties, balls, and other social engagements...and here was my uncle proposing I do the same thing! I could hardly believe what I was hearing.

'You don't mean to... ' I had said, my voice shaking in fear and anger. 'You can't!'

'Mary, your cousin Colin is already in London with the Sutherlands. You must join him and begin your education. You cannot keep running around the moors at your age. I simply won't allow it!'

'I don't care if Colin is there!' I had cried passionately, my voice tinged with bitterness. 'My place is here, at Misselthaite, with Dickon, and the garden. Colin has always done what he likes, and besides, he wanted to go to London, why should I be taken away from the one thing I truly love?'.

My uncle had then sighed, once again, put his hands to his head and looked at me, his long hair framing his narrow face. His eyes held mine, and I saw in them a certain weariness, like that of a man who had not slept for many nights. When he spoke his tone was slow and exact, but not without understanding.

'Child, I know this is a hard thing for you to endure, but can't you see that it is for your own good? if you stay out here, and do not enter society, how will I ever be able to find a husband for you, someone to provide for you when I am gone? Don't you see that this is the only way to ensure your future is safe and thus protected? and as for the garden, you will always be able to come back to it. Why, Colin has been gone two years now, and still manages to come home a few weeks a year. It will not be any different for you.'

I looked hard at him, just then, and felt the angry child I used to be, rising up in me – almost to the point of making me want to get up and stamp my foot on the carpet in frustration. 'I don't want to go to London, and I certainly don't want to find a husband! all I need is here, and I dare say, I shall be quite content to live here quite alone until the day I die!' I stopped, seeing his shocked expression and decided to subtly lower my tone. I took a deep breath. 'I appreciate you looking out for me, Uncle Archie, but you obviously do not have my best interests at heart, or you would not dare suggest something that would make me feel so unbearably unhappy.'

He met my gaze and said evenly 'You will go to the Sutherland's, Mary. As your legal guardian, It is my word that counts in such matters.' He softened his tone and looked down on me, the weariness he carried more evident than ever. 'You will eventually understand, I hope, and realise why I had to do this.'

Without waiting for an answer, he rang the bell for Mrs Medlock, and left me shaking in my chair. The whole world felt as though it had been tilted slightly on his axis, and I was breathing hard and fast, a jumble of images and feelings colliding through my mind. Without saying a word, or giving him a backwards glance, I got up and ran out of the study, slamming the door hard behind me. Fighting back sobs, I had climbed the stairs with breathless impatience, needing so much to be alone and put my thoughts in order. At last I had reached my bedroom, pausing only to lock my door and had then flung myself on my bed, my thoughts turning over and over in my mind. How could he, how could he? how could he?

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Three months later and I was still thinking those exact thoughts, and it was so much more of a reality now than it was then. Three months had passed, and at times I had thought my uncle would forget his plan of sending me to stay with the Sutherland family, where I would receive my so called 'proper' education. I had almost thought I was safe, and then Mrs. Medlock had brought it up with me this afternoon.

I had just got in from working in the garden and had arrived in my room to see Mrs Medlock, going through my wardrobe with one of the parlour maids. She was in the process of taking out various dresses and looking at them intently, before either putting them back in my closet, or throwing them down onto an ever increasing pile on my bed.

'Now what's this,' I heard her say, as she held up a printed white gown and eyed it carefully. 'Fit for the country, maybe, but...' her voice trailed off, and I watched as she tossed the gown carelessly upon the pile.

'What are you doing, Mrs. Medlock?' I had asked her, after coming in from the garden and seeing her engaged in such a task. Why are you looking at my gowns now? I don't need any more, and we both know that I already have more than enough as it is.'

'I am under strict orders from your uncle', she had replied 'to look at your wardrobe and decide what is suitable and what is not for your new life. No doubt your uncle has discussed it with you, and you are aware you will be leaving Misselthaite for London, in less than a month.
My eyes must have widened then, because she had put down the gown and looked at me in startlement.

'Come now, surely this is not a surprise? why, Lord Craven told me that he had mentioned his plans to you over three months ago!'

'I...ah, yes', I had falteringly said then, my mind whirling in panic.

'Well then, you obviously know that you will be staying with the Sutherland family in London for the next year, and will therefore understand why none of these old gowns will be suitable for your new residence.' She had turned to me then, and what she said next had turned my blood cold. 'Your Uncle has made plans for you to leave in a month's time. That is why I am going through your gowns now.'

I stood there, speechless, in my dirty gown and muddy boots. She had looked at me then, and I noticed her gaze move all the way down from my straw hat to the bottom of my shoes. 'Make a lady of her, indeed...' I heard her say softly to herself, before straightening up and beckoning to the young parlour maid beside her. 'Susan', she had said, 'please ask Mr Locke to prepare the carriage for Miss Lennox and myself tomorrow morning. I will need to accompany Miss Lennox to the village so we can make plans to prepare her new wardrobe.'

And so I lay awake, knowing that no sleep would come and I listened to the rain. I thought of Dickon, outside in that rain, alone somewhere, and I felt tears begin to form in the corners of my eyes. I thought of how he had touched my shoulder gently, and then walked with me back into the house. I thought of his blue eyes, which twinkled with mischief and merriment, and wished more than anything that I did not feel so alone on such a bleak night.

My Secret, chapter 1

2008-03-24T11:34:00.000-07:00

A/N: I do not own these characters, I am merely 'borrowing' them for the purpose of this story.

Chapter 1:
Mary's despair

Autumn, 1908

I ran pelting down the gravel path, with tears streaming down my face. Choking back sobs, I headed for the garden door.

My hand shook as I fumbled for the handle beneath the Ivy... breathing quickly, hurridly, I felt my fingers take hold of the cool metal and with trembling hands I turned the handle. Looking back quickly, to make sure no one was following me, I pushed the door open and found myself inside the secret garden.

Of course, the garden was never locked now, but even so, to me it was still a sanctuary. I felt my heart beat steady and grow quiet, as I drew breath and walked towards the large swing in the corner of the garden. The sun was fading, leaving an amber tint on the flowers and plants ... the day was drawing to a close. I trembled and brushed the remaining tears from my cheeks. At least I would have sanctuary here, although for how long, I wasn't certain.

I was sure that my disappearance was to be expected, but how could they do this to me? didn't they know that everything I had ever wanted was right here? how could they? I just didn't understand, and worse, I could feel my heart breaking. I looked around me, at the beautiful roses glowing in the dusk, the old swing seat, which had seen so many happy summer days, in which the laughter of friends had echoed around the once still garden. I walked up to it, and traced my hand over the worn seat, then further upwards, feeling the familiarity of the rope beneath my hands. I sighed. To leave all this behind... all that I had known for the last five years, all that I had experienced, and seen, since those dark days in India when my parents had died and I had been left alone.

I remembered then, how Dickon, Colin and I had brought the secret garden back to life. How once it had been a tangle of weeds and dead wood, ivy covering long held secrets, and a swing that had creaked slowly back and forth in the cold breeze. How the darkness had lifted, and hope and love slowly taken over and filled it with life once again. Despite myself, a small smile etched my face as I thought of those far off days – a smile that was tinged with sadness at the thought of what was to come.

'How can I leave this?' I whispered to the breeze.

Just then, a slow creaking sound came from the corner of the garden, towards the door. I turned quickly and looked over, and in the evening light of the setting sun, saw the garden door slowly open.

I had not expected anyone to come here, but found myself staring at the strapping figure of Dickon, as he entered the garden and made his way over the lawn to see me.

No longer the boy I had met five years ago, Dickon was now a rather tall and good natured, young man. He was still blessed with a head of thick, wavy (and often unruly) hair, and cheeks that glowed when he smiled. But Dickon had grown into a man these last couple of years, and now, irritatingly, towered over me. And never seemed to grow tired of pointing out the ever increasing difference in height.

Dickon and I had been friends since childhood, and he was someone I felt I could always rely on. We had grown even closer as friends ever since Colin had left to live in London. I watched him as he steadily made his way over to me, feeling relief build in my chest.

'Mary', he began, in his thick yorkshire accent, as he pensively approached me. 'I just heard tha' news...'

I tried my best to smile, hoping I didn't look as upset as I felt. 'Yes, no doubt the servants have been gossiping already – they've been lacking some good fodder recently.'

I heard him sigh, and he came closer to the swing, where I still sat, slowly rocking back and forth in the breeze. 'I'm sorry Miss Mary', he said softly.

'Dickon', I continued, my voice beginning to rise in passion, 'I don't want to go. How can I leave this place, it's been all I've known for so long... and the thought of going to London... that huge ugly city... away from all this... how can I leave it all behind?'

He awkwardly placed one hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him in wonder at how his touch could feel so soothing, so pure and right.

'I don't know lass, but Mary, nothing is certain yet, aye?'

I couldn't help but smile at his optimism, and reached up to hold his hand.

'Yes, I know... I just can't bear the thought of leaving, that's all.' I sighed. 'I'd better head back to the house... they'll be looking for me, I expect.'

He smiled back at me. 'Aye, I expect they will. Tha' made quite a departure from what I heard.'
I imagined what the servants would have said of my flight from the house, and I couldn't help but feel a little irritated. The servants at Misselthwaite loved to gossip, and no doubt this little incident would provide them with weeks of speculation and entertainment at my expense.
I got up off the swing, aided by Dickon's sturdy grip on my hand. The warm smell of Jasmine was now hanging in the air, and the light was fading fast. The garden was becoming shrouded in shadow, It was time to go back.

'Yes, well you know me. I do love to create a good dramatic scene. Someone has to keep the servants entertained, especially now that Colin has gone.'

Dickon laughed at my reference to Colin's childhood theatrics and temptuous fits of temper, which at times had been the talk of the town. At the sound of his laugh, I felt more at ease, and the future just then did not seem quite so bleak. His laughter died down and he looked towards me seriously.

'You know where ta' find me, Mary', he said earnestly, his hazel eyes holding my gaze. 'Meet me here t'morrow first thing in tha' morning? I will be here when it begins to grow light.'

The thought of spending time with Dickon made me smile. 'Alright then, as long as you walk me back to the house... and help me think of some excuse as to why I had to rush out so suddenly'.
He grinned at me, and offered me his arm 'with pleasure.'

Smiling, I took it, and we walked together through the twilight, back up the path towards Misselthwaite manor.