Jack sat in his chair by the fire, in his lodgings in Manchester, looking into the red-orange flames, musing, when he heard a knock at the door. A housekeeper entered with a letter, that he took giving the elderly woman a nod and smiled in gratitude. He saw that it was a letter in Miss Mary Smith's hand, and he opened it hurriedly, a smile gracing his lips once more. He frowned, surprised at his length. Miss Smith's letters were usually a few pages long, but this one was shorter and the handwriting seemed rushed and dare he say distressed, which puzzled him greatly. He read:

I do not pretend to understand the nature of friendship between men, Dr. Marshland, but surely in its better points, it resembles that between women.

Jack's frown deepened at these first few lines; it wasn't her style to start a letter in such a way. There were no witty remarks, or news on what great, dramatic incident had recently occurred in Cranford. He read on.

Where then was your loyalty to Dr. Harrison?

There it struck him; could it be possible that she was speaking of the Valentines Day joke he had created. Had it come to light? His face was worried, and distressed. He could see by Miss Smith's handwriting that she wrote in distemper; almost anger, not in her usual calm, elegant, friendly hand. He continued reading the note.

Where was your kindness and respect, and where now is your compassion? His career is ruined, his reputation savaged and his courtship annihilated, all by your willfully mischievous hand. I urge you, sir, to apply your wits to the resolution of this disaster as adroitly as you did the manufacture of it. You may yet salvage your connection with Dr. Harrison, but I fear my regard for you will not recover.

Mary Smith

He soaked up the words on the page as a sponge would spilled water, he grew more and more shocked and ashamed. Had his joke really gone as far as that? For Miss Mary Smith to write it, it must be true. He ran a hand through his dark hair. He had to go back, he had to go make things right. He promptly folded up the letter, and put it in his shirt pocket, right above his heart, grabbed his coat and called for his horse to be saddled immediately.

He galloped out into the night, Mary's words circling his mind constantly. The guilt that was piercing through his mind and body just could not be described. Had his ridiculous prank, gone so far as to destroy Franks career and his courtship with the lovely Miss Hutton? You've really done it this time, Jack he thought, you just don't know when to draw the line do you? He could just slap himself. And Mary, Mary Smith; the last line of her letter, just punctured his heart and soul. He didn't expect it; he didn't expect her opinion to matter so much to him. But there it was, and it filled him with such despair. He recalled a conversation he had had with Frank, month's back when he had come for Christmas to Cranford, where he had first met them all. When he first clapped eyes on Miss Mary Smith, she intreiged him. Her sharp eyes, were a subject of interest to him the whole night and he sought a seat beside her the constantly. He remembered asking Frank about her after a few weeks and saying I'm not in love with her, or like to be… he never thought he would ever regret words he said, but it seems, with the feelings he was experiencing at that moment, that he would have to. The idea of her despising him, struck a chord deep in his heart that he didn't was there; he had no idea that that was the effect she had on him and it scared him to think that thanks to his foolish, childish nature, he would lose the respect and affection of someone who he had come to develop such strong feelings for, over the past few months.

He travelled through the night and he reached the outskirts of Cranford in the early hours of the next morning. He could see Lady Ludlows' grand estate. He just needed to go over the bridge and he would be in Cranford. He would be able to set things right. When he finally got over the bridge, his eyes looked into the rushing water of the river, still thinking about what he could do to make amends when he recognized the reflection of the young lady who had been on his mind for nearly the whole ride from Manchester; he called out to her,

'Miss Smith!' she turned her head in the most elegant way, that made his stomach do a summer-sault. Her facial expression worried him, for it wasn't her usual smile that, and bright eyes, that had captivated him so, it was sullen, and vexed. Guilt immediately filled him once again, as she looked at him.

'Dr. Marshland, I've been wandering if we'd be seeing you…' her voice colder than she had usually addressed him with. Jack dismounted and took the horse by the reign and led him to where Miss Smith was sitting at the bank of the river. He then tied the horse at a near by post and went back to where she was and sat beside her, the whole time his eyes not leaving her. The cold expression on her face, remained there thought her eyes were on the water so intently, that one would think she was looking for something in the river. Jack wanted to make amends, he wanted them to be friends if they could not be anything more, though that was his greatest wish.

'Miss Smith…I hardly know where to begin. I wish to tell you how guilty I feel for what I did, I never thought-' but she cut him off

'Sir, you need not justify yourself to me. What you must do is go to Dr. Harrison and make your apologies to him, for it is he who needs them now.' Her voice, not as cold as it was before, but not her usual friendly tone; she kept her eyes on the trickling water. Jack nodded and got up, he then looked down at Mary who hadn't moved. He held out his hand for her, for he intended to make amends with her, whatever it took. She looked at his outstretched hand, and then looked into his eyes for the first time. Then she took it and she lifted herself up. Then she went to take it away, but he held on tight, and they started walking down the lane. He then let go of her hand and untied his horse, and took her hand once more, as they continued down the lane.

They walked in silence for a while, Jack marveled at the softness of her hand and how right it felt in his. She could also feel it; she felt safe holding his hand, though she was still angered at his actions. He opened his mouth, intending to break the silence, but he found that he was at a loss for words, which was unlike him.

'Ms. Smith…I hardly know where to begin…I know what you must think of me, and you have every right to, but I honestly want to make amends. I feel just so horrible about what I've done; I never meant it to go that far and I cannot believe that it did.' He refused to look her in the eye.

'But Dr. Marshland, what did you expect would happen? Did you really truly think, after seeing the way Caroline Tompkinson was behaving towards your friend, that it would just be forgotten, that she wouldn't take it seriously!'

'You are right. I guess I just thought nothing would really come of it. I just wasn't thinking. Do you know if Frank is home?'

'Where else would he be?' Her question puzzled him

'Well wouldn't he be trying to make amends, with Miss Hutton perhaps?' Mary shook her head, and he saw sadness in her eyes.

'The poor man hasn't been able to walk out of his house without someone sneering at him. And besides he's not welcome at the rectory, not only for the obvious reason…' Jack stopped and looked into her eyes and saw that they were tearing. He held her by the shoulders and asked her,

'What is it? Mary, tell me what's wrong?' He couldn't bare to see her like that, he never expected such a strong women to act in such a way. But why?

'Sophie…she…she has the typhoid fever.' She said and looked up into his eyes. Jack's eyes widened. He took her by the hand once more, held onto the reigns of the horse and tried to walk as fast as possible, to Frank's house. He let go of Mary's hand and ran to Frank's door, leaving the horse with the lady.

'For pity sake, Frank will you open the door?' he called through the mail slit 'I'm really sorry about the valentines, I only did it for a joke.' He looked back at Mary, who nodded urging him to go on, 'I know you're in there! Listen Frank, I'm with Ms. Smith; she says Sophie Hutton has the typhoid fever!' He heard Frank inside repeating what he had just said with great worry in his voice. Then he asked if he was sent for to which Jack replied, 'Dr. Morgan is attending her; I'm going to the George to hire myself a bed. If you want to speak to me, that's where I will be.' He heard that Frank had went to another room in a rush, knowing that what he had just said would affect Frank greatly. He sighed, still bent down. Then he felt a hand on his soldier, and looked up at Miss Smith. Then she let go and handed him the reigns of his horse. He took them and gave her a silent thank you with a smile, which he was happy to see, she returned. He watched as she curtsied to him and then started walking in the opposite directions, towards the Jenkyns' House. He then went to the George and hired a bed a left his horse in the stable next to it, and went back to Franks' house, for he knew his friend would need his help.