Now, Mary may seem really immature in this chapter, but remember; she's only sixteen! Plus, she's going through emotional trauma etc...

Also, I wrote this chapter when I was feeling really depressed about the constant rain here, and having a bad cold, and I'm afraid my misery really got transferred into my words. But, as Mary's feeling about as horrible as I did, I guess it fits =]

xxx

The minute Mary was alone in her room, she threw herself onto her bed, buried her face in her pillow and burst into desperate tears. Without meaning to, she dug her fingernails into its soft stuffing and let her sorrows escape her in sobs.

How had she let this happen? How could she possibly have been stupid enough to forget that she and Dickon could never be together?

She should have known, from the moment she had first given in to instinct and kissed him on the cheek, that her feelings for him were not the same as they had been two years ago. But no, she had just told herself that the kiss meant nothing. And then, when she'd finally realized that the warm, comfortable feeling she got in her stomach whenever he looked at her couldn't just be friendship, she'd still not acted. She hadn't tried to suppress her feelings, no. She'd just tried her very best to conceal her feelings from the world, from Dickon, and whenever possibly, herself.

What had she been thinking? That if she hid her love for him long enough everything would work itself out? That her feelings for him would just go away?

If weeds were ignored, they didn't just go away. They grew. And Mary's feelings had grown to a point where it was impossible to deny that… she was in love with Dickon. Hopelessly in love with a moor lad.

Mary let out a loud scream of frustration and misery into her pillow, then she flung the hated article against her wall with as much strength as she could muster. She wanted to make it shatter into a million tiny pieces, whether it could or not; it had no right being so fluffy and indifferent when she was so wretched.

Just then, she heard a loud knock at her locked door, and a stern voice, "Miss Mary, open this door this instant!"

It was Medlock, and Mary had absolutely no desire to see the dratted woman, "Make me!"

"Miss Mary, you're not in your right mind right now. You need –"

"I need for you to go away! I want to be left alone. You can bother me tomorrow."

When there was no response, Mary tip-toed to the front of the room, and put her ear to the door. It wasn't until she heard a loud sigh, and then retreating footsteps that she crept back to her bed. That night, she cried herself to sleep, and for the first time in several years, her dreams were haunted with flashes of her mother.

Mary hadn't dreamed about her mother since she'd been a young child, but now she saw her appear with a vivid clarity before her eyes. She was standing in front of the door to the secret garden, wearing a fashionable blue dress that was full of lace and dripping with frills, and a matching sun hat. She smiled at Mary, looking almost ethereally beautiful with her laughing eyes and perfect smile, and then she pulled a key from her sleeve with a white gloved hand. With her other hand, she reached out for the handle of the garden's open door.

Then she began slowly closing the door. She was locking the garden up again.

When Mary realized this, she tried to scream out, to beg her not to do it. But loud as she screamed, her mother couldn't' hear her. Mary shrieked at the top of her lungs, pleading for her mother to stop; she didn't think she could bear life without the garden as her sanctuary. The raucous sound of her own voice was why it took her so long to hear the male voice coming from inside the garden. It was Dickon, and he was begging her mother to stop as well. "Please! Tha canna do this, it'd ruin the magic forever! Please stop!"

Mary's mother ignored him as she pulled the door closed. Inserting the key in its hole with a smile, she started to turn it. Mary stopped screaming to better hear Dickon, and what she heard nearly stopped her heart:

"Please, dinna do this! Dinna trap me here! Mary!"

With a jolt, Mary realized that it wasn't her mother locking the door, it was herself. And she was laughing softly as she locked Dickon into the garden forever.

xxx

Mary woke up covered in sweat, and with only the vaguest idea of what she'd dreamt about. All she knew was that it had been very unpleasant, and that she was very much glad that it had ended.

Stretching her arms above her head, she soon became aware that someone was repeatedly knocking on her door, "Miss Mary, it's nearly eight o' clock! You need to come out of there."

Feeling rather sluggish and not at all well rested, Mary pulled herself out of bed and opened her door. The first thing her sleepy eyes met when she did, was Mrs. Medlock, and her eyes were full of disapproval.

"Mary, there are only three days left to prepare for your ball, and you're not even dressed yet. Hurry up and get yourself ready, then meet me in the ballroom."

Mary, who felt almost too tired for words, just nodded her head. Then she closed her door, donned a new dress and forced her protesting hair into a somewhat neat bun.

Finally, she took a closer look at her mirror to appraise her reflection. "You look awful, Mary", she whispered to herself, "Truly horrendous."

She had dark circles beneath her tear stained and puffy eyes, and her face showed all of the misery she felt. But despite this, no other person could have called her appearance 'horrendous'. Mary had finally started to look like her lovely mother, and though she wasn't aware of it, she looked stunning even now.

Not that she'd believe anyone if they told her that. And at the moment, she likely wouldn't have cared.

That morning soon became one of the most miserable of her entire life. Medlock was even stricter with her than usual, because of her unruly behavior the night before, and she treated Mary with complete contempt. Colin refused to speak to Mary at all, except to tell her that "the gardener's sister hasn't improved".

But the absolute worst part of that day was the rain. It rained all day, with unrelenting sheets of water crashing against all windows. It was as if the rain wanted to keep Mary from forgetting that she'd not be able to see Dickon that day, and that Colin would probably keep her from seeing him when the sun came out as well.

When Medlock had finally released Mary from her lessons, Mary didn't know what to do with herself. So, she settled for simply trudging back to her room, closing the door, and staring out her window at the storm. She gazed intently, as if memorizing the patterns the raindrops made as they chased each other down the glass pane, and tried to forget about what had happened the day before.

Some would consider this a massive waste of time, but Mary just couldn't bring herself to do anything productive. After all, everything she wanted was outside, well beyond her reach.

The following day was brighter, and Mary found this heartening. She dressed herself quickly and went down to breakfast earlier than usual.

She arrived in the dining hall before anyone else, ate her fill, and then decided to get a head start on her daily lessons.

She'd been working on her French pronunciations for about an hour before Medlock showed up. The old woman almost smiled when she saw how much better Mary looked, and they spent a peaceful, almost agreeable morning reviewing the details for her party together. Then, at around 11:00 :

"Alright Mary, as I can see that you've been trying your best to be proper today" Medlock started with a smile that was only a tad mocking, "I'll let you go out to your garden early. But mind you come back for lunch."

And with those simple words, she made Mary feel so glad, she almost wanted to hug the old woman. "Oh, I will, don't worry! Thank you!" Then Mary flew to the garden.

xxx

As she hurried through the manor grounds, Mary took deep breaths of the moor air. Nothing in the world smelled nicer than the moor after a heavy rainfall. Well, almost nothing…

When Mary reached the door to her garden, she was horrified that she'd somehow find it locked. But, to her immense relief, the handle turned smoothly under Mary's hand and opened.

The garden looked fine, much as it had when she'd left it, but for some reason, as Mary walked in she felt an acute sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. It didn't take her long to find out why.

Dickon wasn't in the garden, but he'd left her a messily scrawled note pinned above her gardening tools:

Lizzy will be leaving us soon. Send Colin, but do not come. You could catch it.

Needless to say, Mary ran to the Manor as quickly as her legs could carry her.