20.

The storm blew at such force it pelted the rain horizontally. Wind churned making the trees sway back and forth. Alan could hardly see three feet in front of him and his clothes were saturated to his skin.

With his deep baritone voice he shouted for James, but like so many cries before, the storm drowned out his efforts. He passed a water fountain that was over flooding from the rain. The pebbles marking the path crackled as the excess water rushed over them. Alan shouted for James again, but there was no reply. He was beginning to become panicked. It was far too dangerous for anyone to be out in this category of storm.

A shiver ran up his spine and it wasn't the cold that made him tremor, it was fear. He ran past numerous stone figures and the vegetable garden still calling for James, but there was no response. Deep pools of water were everywhere. He ran past a wall covered with sheaths of ivy shouting James' name. The hope of finding him in this downpour was dimming by the moment. Taking a seat on a bench he buried his face in his hands. What he was going to tell Sarah he did not know. He knew he had to keep looking. He knew he had to find James.

Alan closed his eyes and looked up to the skies. The rain washed over his face as he thought of where he might find James. Each location seemed more unlikely than the last. Suddenly, it dawned on him; if he could find Mary he would find James. He tried thinking of where she might be. Alan knew Mary always retreated to her gardens, but which one? The possibilities was maddening. He pulled his coat over his head about to start his search again when he heard a faint voice.

"James!" it wailed. The disembodied voice sounded as if it came from the wall that was oppressed with ivy. Impossible. The wind must be playing a trick on my ears, Alan thought. Or perhaps, the desire to find the two was so great his mind fabricated the voice out of sheer desperation.

In the midst of his doubts he heard a cry from a boy. From then on he knew his mind wasn't telling him any falsehoods. He ran to the wall ripping sheaths of ivy to the ground. His fingers met nothing but cold stone. He worked his way to the right pulling down every vine. The stone was scraping against his fingers and knuckles. Fortunately, his hands were accustomed to manual work and his calluses protected him from most of the damage.

Nearly a fourth of the wall's foliage had been torn down when his hands finally came across a door. He jiggled the iron handle and the door opened with ease. As he walked into the garden he was engulfed by the scent of lilies. The sight of the flowers didn't make any sense to him. The door looked as though it hadn't been opened for decades, but something told him that he was in the right place. Alan's shoes splashed in the mud as he pushed through the thick jungle of roses and lilies and of branches and bushes. Not even in the war had he been so determined. As the wilderness thinned Alan heard James' high clear voice. He quickened his pace in that direction. Batting a cluster of leaves away from his face he finally saw them.

"James!" he cried.

James looked over his shoulder briefly and met Alan's eyes. Panic and tears etched across his young face.

"Alan, help! I think she's dead!" James wailed.

Before Alan had time to process the situation he soared into action. He ran to James', lifted him to his feet and instructed him to call a doctor. James gazed at Mary. He longed to stay by her side, but he knew what he had to do. His heart was pounding in his ears as he ran at full speed to the house.

With an effortless swoop Alan lifted Mary's wilted body from the ground. Her head rolled back swaying from side to side as Alan carried her out of the secret garden. The journey was arduous and both Alan and Mary's faces were covered in nicks from the garden's thorns and branches. It was as though the branches were the hands of prison guards trying to keep their captives from escaping.

Bang! The heavy wooden gate fell off its hinges from the assault of Alan's shoe. Mary was still in his arms. The wind made an unnatural yowl and the long vines of ivy parted, revealing the path back to Downton. The path back to safety.

- To be continued