My apologies for the length of time it has taken to get this chapter posted - I've spent the last couple of weeks ill with the Flu! not very conductive to writing, unfortunately. But I've finally managed to get this chapter finished. It is set, once again, in London and at Misselthwiate, in the summer of 1908. In this chapter, Mary learns some more about William Montgomery's past and how it is similar to her own past... and Dickon receives some disturbing news that will have a major effect on his life... and will change it in ways he cannot imagine.

Many thanks to those of you that left a comment from the previous chapter! you guys rock my world!

Beyond the Secret Garden – Chapter 14

Misselthwaite Manor, July 1908

The tall young man cut a solitary figure against the backdrop of summer in the gardens. He was surrounded by the bountiful beauty of summer – yet he wandered alone – as he now spent the majority of his days. He paused briefly by the door to the secret garden, but did not enter. He couldn't bring himself to go in there, not after what had happened.

'Dickon!, Dickon Sowerby!'

He looked up, at the call of his name, and caught a glimpse of Sarah Clare running down the long walk, towards him. He walked towards her, waiting as she caught her breath. He wondered why she had come all this way to find him? Most people kept out of his way these days, left him alone with his thoughts. It was then he looked down and saw the small letter she held in her hands. Hope flared in Dickon's heart.

'This just came for you,' she panted, leaning back and trying to catch her breath. 'They say it's urgent. I've been lookin' for thee everywhere!'

He mumbled his gratitude, then took the letter with trembling hands. Could it be? Was it from ….. her?

Ignoring Sarah Clare's puzzled look, he headed off towards the moor, looking for a quiet place where he could read the letter in peace.

London, July 1908

'So we will be going to Regents Park? Today?'

Samantha turned around, and laughed at her friend's confused expression. The two young women were in Mary's room, Mary was seated on her bed watching Samantha, as she sat at the dressing table, and brushed her hair.

'Well, it is Summer, after all, Mary. And we've hardly had an opportunity to get out of the house so far. You'll love Regents Park – the gardens there are so beautiful this time of year.'

Mary closed her eyes briefly, thinking of another set of gardens which were beyond beautiful in summer – gardens which were so far away now.

'We'll all be going,' Sam continued. 'You and I, Colin, Mother and Father and Patricia….. and …… William.'

'We're all going?' Mary asked. She had never participated in a family outing with the Sutherland's before. And Sam had mentioned that William would be attending, too. Although why shouldn't he? She told herself. He was a guest, the same as she.

'Why yes!' Sam laughed. 'Mother thought it would be nice to have a picnic lunch. And for once, I have to agree with her. It's a beautiful day for it. Look, Mary.' Sam walked over to the window and pulled open the curtains letting the early morning sunlight spill into the room. 'Barely a cloud in the sky!'

Mary glanced out of the window, towards the direction Sam was pointing in. Her friend was right – it was going to be a beautiful day. Yet she just couldn't shake the feeling of depression and hopelessness that she had been feeling ever since she received the final letter from Dickon. That letter had sent everything she knew crushing down on her. She didn't know if she would ever be able to feel as she had done before, again. She looked closely at her friend and saw the enthusiastic, expectant look that dwelled on her face. In Sam's world there was everything to be happy about – a bright sunny day, the opportunity to socialise with other young people. She had to at least try to make an effort – for her friend's sake. She sighed deeply and made her way over to the dressing table.

'I suppose it would be good for me to get out. When are we leaving?'

'As soon as we're all ready. Now that is why I'm here. Mary – you need to get out of those awful black dresses – let's be honest. It's not as though someone has died, is it? Come on, there must be something in here you can wear.'

Mary looked down and observed the dress she had chosen to wear that morning. Sam was right – it was black, and she had been wearing dark colours ever since she had arrived in London. It hadn't seemed right to be dressed so brightly, when she was so deeply unhappy. She watched as Sam flung open her wardrobe door and began rifling through her gowns.

'No, this won't do, too dark,' the young woman muttered to no one in particular. 'and this one, urgh! But this!' Sam held up a floaty gown of a light blue fabric. 'This is perfect!'

Mary was seated next to Sam in the carriage, and opposite her sat the young Mr William Montgomery, and her cousin Colin. Dr Sutherland, his wife, and older daughter had taken another carriage, leaving the young people to socialise amongst themselves. She found from the position she was sitting in, she was able to observe the young man as he chatted amicably to her cousin.

He was very different in the light of day to how she remembered him the previous night when she had been standing in the shadows. His hair was short, and blonder than she remembered, and his features were even and symmetrical – his eyebrows slightly darker than his hair. He had faint creases on the sides of his eyes, which crinkled when he smiled – and he did this often. His lips were full, and his teeth even and straight. She watched him closely as he conversed with Colin, watching his expressions and the way he interacted with the younger man. Colin seemed to be enjoying his company, and Mary supposed it was nice for her cousin to be around a young man of his own age.

'You'll have to tell us some of your stories of your time in India.' she heard Colin say, and her ears pricked up with interest. 'And I'm sure my cousin would enjoy some of your tales,' he looked over at her 'wouldn't you, Mary?'

'Perhaps Miss Lennox would be able to tell us some tales of her own?' William added, catching her eye. His eyes were deep blue, Mary noticed then – and they sparkled with delight. 'God knows, I get so bored telling the same old stories all the time. It would be nice to hear some new ones.'

'I don't remember much about India.' Mary began, uncomfortable with the attention that had suddenly been directed at her. 'I was so young, and I wasn't allowed to go to any of the parties that my parent's attended. All I can remember is the heat, and always feeling sickly.'

'Surely that's not all you remember?' William said softly, once more holding her gaze and giving her a small smile. 'Perhaps I can help you recall some of your forgotten memories?'

Mary shifted uncomfortably. She did have many more memories of India, of course, but she did not have any fabulous tales to tell. If anything, she wished she could forget. She caught William observing her with interest. 'Perhaps.' she said curtly. 'But I doubt it.'

'Ah! Some other time, then.' the young man replied, and turned back to Colin, who looked rather disappointed.

'Why don't you tell William a little about your curious upbringing, cousin?' she said, wishing to deflect some of the attention away from herself. 'You probably had one of the queerest childhoods in the history of Britain.'

'Oh really, do tell, Colin!' announced Samantha. 'I've heard so very little about your childhood.'

Colin sighed dramatically, but Mary could tell he was pleased nonetheless. 'Well, if you must. But I fear it is a rather long tale.'

'You humoured me last night, Colin. I will happily listen to you now.'

'Oh yes please, Colin. Do tell us! Besides, it will be at least an hour until we reach the park, with the traffic being the way it is.'

'Very well.' the young man begun. 'Our tale begins six years ago – with a sickly boy and an orphaned girl from India...'

Colin began to speak, to what had become a captivated audience. Mary had no idea that he had leant to tell a story so well, and found herself oddly moved at the tale of the boy who had once again learned to walk. Every now and again, she would meet William's gaze, and she didn't know why, but something in his smile made her feel a little uneasy.

Mary had left the group picnicing on the main grounds of Regent's Park, requiring some time alone. The laughter of the others died away behind her, and she found herself walking as though being blown along by the sweet summer breeze. As she walked she passed by many fountains, and flower beds – amazed at the colour and order of things. Yet her heart yearned for the secret garden. For the wilderness and natural beauty of the moors. She took a seat by a large fountain, watching as the water spilled from the top in a sparkling cascade, and she remembered.

Sparkling water, that flowed and swirled, and lay hidden in the middle of a peaceful forest – and of the two young people that had just begun to discover each other...

She was sitting down on the bank of the river, swishing her bare legs through the cool water. Dickon was at her side, and he was watching her thoughtfully.

'I cannot bear this heat, Dickon. I don't know how you manage to work in it.'

'Neither do I, sometimes.' the young man replied, as he sat down next to her and dipped his legs in the water, sighing with satisfaction.

'You won't think it terribly bold of me if I went for a swim, would you Dickon?'

'I don't think Mrs Medlock would approve.' the young man had responded with a laugh. She remembered how much that laugh had made her smile, and she recalled how she had imagined the look of horror on the housekeeper's face to find her young charge in such an improper situation.

She had taken off her dress then, and Dickon had helped her into the water. She recalled the feel of his hand – hard and calloused through working every day that summer. She had gasped at the cool feel of the water against her bare skin, and had then asked Dickon to join her.

She had watched him as he undressed – taking off his shirt – sticky with sweat, and had tried to avert her eyes at the sight of his bare chest. He had rolled up his trousers before joining her, edging slowly into the water, grimacing as he submerged himself.

Before she knew it, she had dived under the water, and had began to swim towards Dickon. In a playful moment she grabbed his ankle and pulled him under – coming up to see him coughing and spluttering – yet laughing all the same.

'Oh Dickon! You should see yourself! You look like a drowned rat! I wish I could have seen your face when you went under!'

'O' verra funny,' he had replied, 'But I'll get thee back – when tha' least expects it!'

He had splashed her with water then, and she screeched before splashing him back. She swam away quickly, but he was faster than her, and he caught her petticoat, pulling her towards him. His hands found her waist, and he pulled her closer to him. She remembered how the moment had stood still, how it was just them for a few seconds, alone in the river, trying to catch their breath, yet not being able to take their eyes off one another. Dickon's hair was wet, it was plastered against his forehead, and she had had an overwhelming urge to brush it aside, and then run her fingers down his face...

Although that had only been the previous summer, it seemed so far away now. Mary sat by the edge of a fountain, running her fingers through the water, listening to the sounds around her – the happy laughter of children, the chirping of the birds. So far away from the solemn quiet of the forest, and the sound of the river as it lapped lazily against the grassy banks.

'Ah, there you are.' said a voice, jolting her out of her thoughts. Misselthwiate and the river dissappeared as she looked up to see the curious face of William Montgomery. 'May I sit next to you?' he gestured to where she sat on the fountains edge.

'If you wish.' she replied, still struggling to remove herself from the memories, indifferent to whether he sat next to her or not.

'So,' he began slowly, 'I take it you enjoy your solitude.'

'Whatever makes you say that?'

'Two observations I have made. Last night, you left dinner early – much earlier than anyone else. And today, while everyone else socialises, you prefer to be alone – to wander the gardens by yourself.'

His voice was not accusatory, merely curious.

'I find you an intriguing young woman, Mary Lennox.'

She didn't know how to respond to such a bold statement of her character.

'You barely know me!' she stated, finding the words coming out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop them.

'Perhaps...' he said, idly dipping his fingers into the water. 'But I'd like to get to know you. Why won't you talk about your past?'

She moved away slightly, so there was some distance between them. 'I don't enjoy talking about the past – especially India.'

'What I'm interested to know is why.' he murmured, catching her eye. She met his gaze, and saw curiousity... and was it... empathy?

'Anyway,' he continued, 'Since you will not discuss your past, perhaps you would like to know a little bit more about me?'

She shrugged, indifferently, yet she could not help but feel a little curious. 'Very well then.So were you born in India?'

He nodded, his eyes glazing over with a far-away look. 'I was born in Bangalore – in South India – do you know where that is?'

Mary nodded. She too had been born in Bangalore, although she didn't mention it to William.

'You see, Father had been posted to India – to Bangalore – many years before. He served in the British Army, first as a Captain, then later rose to the rank of Leuitenant Colonel – a very important position, as I'm sure you understand. I was born in India, around three years after my Father was posted there. He was an extremely busy man – he never had time for my mother, or for me.'

William's voice grew bitter, and he paused briefly before continuing.

'Anyway, so there I was, growing up among the other children of the captains, and officers, attended constantly by ayahs and servants. We used to play down by a river that ran near our house – the days were hot then, and we used to mix with the local children. What fun times they were!'

'When did you come to London?' Mary could not help asking, she was beginning to realise how this young man's childhood held many parallels to her own.

William sighed. 'This is the part I dread talking about. Do you remember, Mary, the earthquake that struck the region, over six years ago now?'

'I... I remember.' she said in a small voice, once again recalling the way the earth had shook, and the screams of the people around her. 'I ... I was there when it happened.'

'Oh Mary... I had no idea... I'm sorry.'

'Please, carry on with your story. Maybe one day I'll tell you mine.'

'I would like that.' William replied earnestly. 'So you'll understand perfectly what it is like to live through such an event – and the horror that occurs after it. We were playing down by the river at the time – My Father was away on an important mission, and my Mother was entertaining friends at our villa. I was only fourteen when it happened... I remember it was early evening – not quite dark but the sun was near setting, and I was playing with some of the local lads down by the river. We had been making little boats out of paper, and sailing them down the stream – racing them, I believe. We first noticed the shaking on the water, sending little ripples out from the edges of the bank. I remember staring in horror at my boat as it toppled over, and funnily enough, my first thought was not of my own safety, but that I was now going to lose the boat race! But then the shaking increased, and the ripples on the water became like waves... we edged away from the river, feeling the shaking under our feet, and that's when we started to hear people screaming, and the booming sound of buildings toppling over.'

Mary closed her eyes, remembering. 'It was so loud. I was so afraid.'

'So was I.' William said. 'But Mary, we're safe now. We escaped.'

'Not all of us.' she whispered.

'No, not all.'

'Did your parents...?' her voice trailed off, but she had to ask.

'My Father's regiment simply disappeared, and were never heard of again. I don't know how long they searched, but they never found them. My Mother...' he stopped, and Mary saw him wince as though in pain.

'Don't continue if you don't want to.'

'No, I need to complete my story. As I said, I was by the river when it happened. As soon as the earth stopped shaking, I ran home as fast as my legs could carry me. I couldn't recognise anything – everything had been destroyed. There was rubble everywhere, and many small fires, trees were uprooted and people were screaming – crying out for loved ones. I ran so fast that day – and on bare feet, until at last I reached our villa.'

Mary already knew how the story was going to end, yet she whispered 'go on.'

'It was utterly devestated. The earthquake had destroyed everything. Yet I had to find her, I couldn't believe that anything could have happened to my Mother. You see, she and I were so close – brought together by the distance provided by my Father. I went through what remained of our front door, and that's when I saw her.'

'She was... she was laying on the ground, and at first I thought that she was only sleeping. Isn't it funny what the mind will tell you when you really want to believe something? Of course, she wasn't sleeping, she was dead. She had been struck by one of the pillars from the outside of our villa. I believe she had been trying to get out when it happened...'

'Oh William,' Mary whispered, seeing the pain that dwelled in the young man's eyes. 'I am so sorry.' unconcsiouly, she reached out and took his hand.

'Don't worry about me, Mary. I'm fine. It happened a long time ago.' pain flickered briefly across his features, and she saw him look away. 'Of course, not a day goes past when I don't miss her.'

'I suppose all we can do is hold on to the people that we do have.' Mary replied. It had been true for her. How much she had loved Colin, and her Uncle. And how much she still loved Dickon, even if it appeared that he no longer loved her back.

'Yes, how true that is.' he sighed. 'Anyway, enough sad tales for one day. It is too beautiful a day to be moping, after all.' He got up from his seat on the fountain's edge, and held out his hand to Mary. 'Care to accompany me for a stroll through the gardens, Miss Lennox? In the spirit of making the most of the people who are still with us.'

His look was so earnest that Mary could not help but take the hand of the young man who offered it. Her opinions of the young Mr Montgomery had changed. He was no longer a stranger to her, but rather a kindred spirit of sorts. For the first time in weeks, she did not feel alone. A pang went through her though as she thought briefly of Dickon, and wondered what he would think of her spending time with another young man. Yet Dickon was not here, and he had stated in the final letter he had sent that what they had was over. Perhaps she needed to take her own advice and hold on to those around her – the people that she had in her life.

'Yes, I think I will.' she replied, and stepped up to meet him, before taking his arm.

Misselthwaite Manor, July 1908

Dickon found a quiet part of the gardens, and opened the letter nervously. He read quickly, then gave an anguished cry when he got to the end of the letter. It couldn't be….

My dear brother,

I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but our own dear Father has taken ill. It happened yesterday while he was at work – he appears to have had a fit of some kind and fell from his horse. The doctor has been to see him and he has been confined to his bed. We need you at home, Dickon. I do not know how long Father will remain unwell, or if he will recover. Please come home as soon as you can, Mother and the family need your help. I write this without their knowledge, but I do know that you will do what is best for the family. Please come as soon as you can.

Your loving sister, Martha.