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The plan was launched into action that day. Mary, Lizzie and Dickon had sped off to get washed and dressed after their impromptu sleepover, and they met back in Colin's room afterwards. They had initially wanted to go to the garden in the early hours of the morning, but considering they hadn't stopped talking until gone midnight, they settled for evening, when the gardens would be empty.

Lizzie hadn't been told the true meaning of the garden and how it had helped to make Colin well again, but she could tell from the way that the others spoke about it that it was almost sacred to them, and so she was flattered that they would be willing to share it with her. She was curious as to why Colin wanted to try to build up the strength in his legs outside rather than inside, but his eyes had blazed so brightly when Mary and Dickon had suggested the garden that Lizzie hadn't even tried to question it. She still hadn't figured out Colin Craven, but she felt as though cracks were beginning to show in his armour, and that she might finally be getting to know the real him.

At twilight, they made their careful way outside via the door near the servants' hall, knowing that it would be mainly empty. Lizzie felt her heart beating quickly, though she wasn't sure why. She was strangely nervous, considering half of this plan had been her idea, mainly because she could remember the exercises that Colin should begin to do. Part of her could not understand the secrecy around the whole project- why didn't they just tell a doctor, who could then advise them? Colin's dismissal of that idea was so fierce, there had to be a reason behind it. But what? Could she ask Mary? She wasn't sure. Mary was intensely protective of her cousin, despite their frequent clashing. He exasperated her, but there was something about their relationship that made her feel as though she would be intruding if she asked Mary, and she doubted her friend would tell her if Colin didn't want her to. Who then? Dickon? Maybe. Lizzie had taken a shine to the quiet country lad, who clearly so adored Mary. She wished someone would look at her like that! But would Dickon divulge the secret? She could just ask, she supposed, or confront Colin himself. Hmm, perhaps that was the way to go about it.

"Where is this garden, then?" asked Lizzie, squinting at the ivy covered wall in the half-light. "I can't see a door."

"Not yet," said Mary, as she removed a heavy iron key from her pocket. Lizzie watched as her friend stepped confidently up to a part of the wall that looked no different from any other, and reached into the ivy with the key. There was a practiced twist of her wrist, and then Mary pulled back the ivy drape and beckoned to Dickon.

"Wheel him in, Dickon," she said, and Dickon pushed in the wheelchair as though he'd been doing it all his life.

"Come on, Lizzie," Mary whispered, glancing around.

Lizzie stepped up close to the wall and saw a little door leading into a garden hidden behind. She stepped through quickly and walked a few paces before stopping and gazing around her. It was magnificent.

The walls were high and safe, every inch of them covered in trailing alpines with sweet smelling leaves and tiny winter flowers. Some stone steps lead downwards, slippery with frost. There was a large, but sadly bare, apple blossom in the centre of this part of the garden, with a carpet of long grass and winter poppies spreading out around it, like a miniature meadow. Little paths lead around the space, which seemed to go on forever. She began to follow one, stopping to dip her fingers in a cold, clear pond that reflected the pinkish sky. As she walked, she brushed past countless vines, and she could imagine the sweet scent of the roses that would cling to her in the summer, from where they would hang from everything that they could reach. When she reached a swing, hanging from another vine-covered tree, she sat down on it, toes digging into the ground to push her off. A robin was singing from somewhere nearby, and everything was so still and perfect. Now she understood why it had to be here, where she felt as safe as if the garden were a nest. Now she understood.

Colin wheeled himself towards the apple blossom, stopping underneath it. The bare canopy stretched over his head, branches reaching out towards the sky. Mary followed him silently and laid down blankets beneath the tree, along with a picnic basket. Exactly like old times, he thought. Her eyes asked if he wanted help, but he decided that he didn't. He lowered himself slowly to the ground, and scooted over until he could sit with his back pressed against the tree trunk. For a second he thought that he heard someone say his name as a gust of cold air blew around him.

He turned at the sound of the swing creaking, and there was Lizzie, flying higher and higher, her hair streaming out behind her like dark wings. Beautiful, he thought, and then stopped himself. No. There was no way that would ever happen. She was the fairy, after all, and he just the cripple.

Her eyes had been closed as she swung, but they opened as though she could feel him watching her. Those piercing green eyes, shining at him in the gathering dusk. She smiled and came to a stop, before running over to him like a little girl.

"This is so beautiful, Colin," she said, and the was pure joy as she looked at him.

"I know," he breathed, her perfume carried to him on a gentle breeze- a mix of spices and musk and citrus that reminded him of Christmas.

She leant in to him, and the scent of her was overwhelming. Her eyes were fixed on his and he couldn't look away- it was as though he were drowning. Drowning in the endless emerald of her eyes. His heart was beating so hard that he fancied she could hear it, and his hand moved of his own accord, reaching up to tangle in her hair.

He forgot everything. Mary and Dickon were no longer there, it was just him and Lizzie, alone, in their nest. Her, with her flushed skin and glittering eyes and beating heart and perfect lips. Her nose pressed against his as her arms reached up around his neck and pulled him down towards her. Her lips met his ear, teeth grazing his lobe.

"I think Jane knew exactly what she was doing."

He laughed huskily, chest vibrating against hers as he answered. "Rochester didn't deserve her."

And then their lips met.

"Ahem," said Mary, feeling faintly embarrassed. "When you two have quite finished, we've got things to do."

Colin and Lizzie broke apart, both flushed despite the cool air.

Mary's own hand was twined around Dickon's, and she had to fight to overcome the sudden urge to kiss him. She felt the warm pressure on her palm, and then Dickon spun her around so that he could place both hands on either side of her face, and plant a kiss on the tip of her nose. She began to melt into him, but his lips grazed her ear and he whispered, "Not now, Mary."

She sighed lightly, and felt his chest hum as he laughed. They broke apart and headed towards the tree, where Colin and Elizabeth seemed to be studiously looking away each other.

"So, Lizzie," Mary said as she sat down. "What does Colin need to do?"

"Well," her friend began, a faint pink still colouring her cheeks. "He doesn't really need to do anything. If he lies down, we should start to try and work his legs- in a sort of bicycle motion, I suppose."

"Got that Colin?" asked Mary, eyeing him.

He nodded, and proceeded to lie down, wincing as a twig jabbed his head.

"I wouldn't mind a cushion," he said. Mary was just about to see if there was one on the wheelchair when Lizzie trotted over and Colin settled his head in her lap. "Thanks," he said, flushing again.

Mary rolled her eyes at Dickon as the two of them arranged themselves holding one leg each. She never thought she'd seen Colin blush so much!

They began to move his legs in slow circular movements, one after the other.

"Can you feel that at all?" Mary asked Colin, after a few repetitions.

"I can feel your hands a bit, I think," he replied, after concentrating for a minute or so.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

"No, I can't really feel them moving. It's more weird than anything else- I can see them moving, but I can't feel it. Where your hands are I think I can feel some warmth, though."

Mary looked up at Lizzie for some sort of comment.

Her friend shrugged. "I'm not a doctor, but by doing this, the muscle should build up and not waste away." She looked down at Colin's head in her lap. His eyes were closed, his face slightly scrunched in concentration. "Don't expect any miracles though."

"We won't," said Mary, "But it's worth a try."

"Definitely."