I can hardly believe that this story is finished! Finally! You can consider this the end, if you wish - or you can read Chapter 22 as well, which is essentially a short epilogue (for those who requested it).

I started this off, knowing full well that it was going to be a big project, but no idea it would span over 20 chapters! thank you for sticking with it for long, and a big thank you needs to go to all of those that gave me feedback on it as it went along - it means more than I can say...

Just to be safe, this chapter is rated M. So read at your own risk!

Thanks guys, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

xxxx Elyzia.

Chapter 21:

Yorkshire, Summer 1911

Dickon awoke early, rising well before dawn, listening to the familiar sounds of the moor and the creatures that lived upon it. Dawn had always been his favourite time of the day, for as long as he could remember – ever since he was a small boy. He loved the feeling of being the only person in the world, the feeling that he was alive to witness the world waking up. He loved watching the colours in the sky gradually changing with the coming day – the way the darkness would gradually fade away into streaks of pink and purple.

He turned his mind back to the events of the past couple of weeks – of Mary's return, of their reunion, of being finally able to tell her the truth. The truth had set him free, and Dickon felt as though his soul had been considerably lightened in the process.

I should never have lied to her, he realized. I know that now.

He thought about how she had called off her engagement to the young man in London, and he couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He knew that he had had a major part to play in her decision, and part of him couldn't help but wonder if he was being selfish in wanting her in his life. Yet he felt powerless over his feelings. He wanted her so badly, so desperately. She fulfilled him, completed him, made him whole.

I love her like I've never loved anyone else, and I'm going to prove to her that I'm worthy of her affections.

Absently, he fingered the band of gold that lay in his pocket, and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

Neither of them knew it, but both awoke at the same time that bright summer morning.

Mary drowsily lifted her head off the pillow. She had sunk into a deep sleep that night, and had slept more soundly than she had in years. She awoke with a smile upon her face. She was home, it was going to be a beautiful summer day, and she was going to spend the day with Dickon.

She recalled their afternoon in the garden together, the previous day. How he had made her laugh and smile. The warmth of his hands, his blue eyes and the way they sparkled. She recalled being impressed at how strong he had become, and how she had blushed when he had caught her watching him, the book she had been supposedly reading, laying discarded in her lap. His laughter was bright and energetic, and made her feel warm deep down inside. Did he realise what effect he had on her?

She knew her future was uncertain. Having called off her engagement to William, there was now no reason to return to London. Furthermore, she knew now that London was not her home and never had been. This is my home, she thought, feeling a calm sense of knowing descend over her. Yorkshire, Misselthwaite. Surrounded by the people I love and who love me. I am home and I will not be leaving ever again.

Dickon had asked her to meet him at the stables that morning. He was exempt from duty for the day, and he had asked her if she would accompany him somewhere that was special to him. She felt herself quivering with excitement, wondering where they would be going – and what he was going to show her?

A ride on the moors, she thought, imagining the feel of the warm wind through her hair. How she would love to feel the soft breeze against her skin! She looked down at her dress, and suddenly a plan came to mind. Quickly, she made her way to Colin's bedroom.

She found him in the stables, saddling up two of the horses.

She tried to creep up quietly behind him, watch him. He was wearing a short sleeved shirt, roughly tucked in to the back of his trousers, his deeply tanned arms appearing strong, as he lifted a saddle down from the rack above him. She stood mesmerised, feeling content just watching him work.

'So I hope you've come dressed for a ride, Miss Mary.' Dickon said easily, without turning around. She scowled inwardly. He always seemed to hear her coming up behind him, and she was never able to surprise him. 'I thought you might like t' ride -' he turned around as he spoke, stopping dead when he saw her. 'Miss – Miss Mary! Wha' is tha' wearin'?' he exclaimed in astonishment.

His reaction was even better than what she had imagined. She smiled, and dipped a curtsey.

'Ta da!'

Her grin broadened as she saw a confused expression pass over Dickon's face.

'But you're wearin'... you're wearin' men's trousers!'

'Yes I am. I found them in Colin's wardrobe, and thought they would be much more suitable for riding. Why, don't you like me in them?'

She found herself enjoyed to see his composure slip away, and a flush spread over his face. 'It's not that... it's just that, well, I don't think I've ever seen a woman wearin' men's trousers before... but it's not that I don't like them on thee.'

'Well if you didn't like them, I would still wear them.' she said contrarily, arching her eyebrow.

'I'm sure tha' would.' Dickon replied, smiling. 'My contrary wee lass.'

Dickon moved closer to Mary, until his hands found her waist. He felt her arms reach up around his shoulders and pull his closer to her. It was true, he had never seen a woman donning men's attire, but inwardly he felt pleased with her surprise. The trousers were snug on her, and emphasised her figure. He ran his hands over the soft fabric, before reaching down and kissing her.

She kissed him back, savouring the feel of his warm mouth on hers, the world around them slipping away until it was just her and Dickon. She felt her knees weaken, and a tingling sensation spread across her body. His hands grasped her buttocks, and he pulled her towards him.

The smell of the stables – of fresh hay, of horses, assaulted her senses. But more than that, was the scent of Dickon – masculine and intoxicating – she breathed it in as she kissed him, over and over again.

Finally they broke apart. She looked up to see Dickon looking as flushed as she felt.

'I suppose we should get going?' she suggested, trying to convince her body that it was the right thing to do.

'Aye, I guess.' Dickon seemed lost for words, and she felt a similar sensation pass over her, as her eyes met his, the memory of their kiss still lingering on her mind. There will be plenty of time for that later, she told herself, feeling anticipation build. They were about to head out into the moors, where they would be completely alone... she shuddered with excitement and nervousness, almost simultaneously.

They rode out together from the stables, two tiny specks on the landscape, against a sea of pink heather, under the vast blue sky. Mary couldn't remember ever feeling so happy, so light, as if she could just close her eyes and soar towards the heavens. The air was fresh around her, contrasting so sharply to the stale and soot clogged air of London. She breathed it in in huge gulpfuls, feeling tears of joy begin to well up in her eyes.

They rode in silence at first, keeping a fast pace, at times urging their horses into a gallop across the moor. Mary marvelled at how much easier it was to ride astride, while wearing men's trousers, and idly wondered at what the good folk of Thwaite village would think to see the young Niece of Lord Craven wearing men's trousers. They rode neck in neck, winding their way through the heather. As they rode, Dickon pointed out the various birds native to the moor – red grouse, golden plovers, and merlin. She had always known that Dickon had an extensive knowledge of the moor and all the creatures that lived upon it, but still she couldn't help feeling impressed at the extent of his knowledge.

Anticipation began to build regarding where he was taking her. She had stayed up late the night before, running possibilities through her mind. Would he be taking her to the coast? To see the ocean? Were they heading towards the river? To one of the highest peaks on the moor? She had no idea. As annoyed as she was at not knowing, she did love to be surprised.

'Almost there.' said Dickon, ahead of her, as if he had read her thoughts. 'Just through these hills.'

His voice sounded slightly detached, as if he was nervous, and trying not to show it. She urged her horse into a trot, and pulled up alongside him.

'What's through these hills?' she wondered out loud.

'Do you trust me, Mary?' he asked her, suddenly.

She looked at him intently. Surely he knew that she trusted him, that she had always trusted him, that she thought him the most trustworthy person she had ever met? She spoke truthfully.

'I trust you Dickon. I trust you more than anyone else.'

Her answer was so honest, so frank. Dickon looked unexpectedly moved. 'Tha' does? Even after all that has -'

'I do.' she replied, stopping his words.

He nodded, looking relieved, and reached into his pocket. 'Good. That's good. Then tha' won't mind coverin' tha' eyes wi' this?'

'A blindfold?' she raised her eyebrows in astonishment.

'Aye. I want t' surprise thee – an we're verra close now.'

'I ...' she paused. Dickon appeared anxious, as though worried she would refuse. She nodded her head, obliging. 'Very well then.'

'Pass me your reins. I'll lead thee.'

She took the strip of black fabric, tying it around her face, until it covered her eyes. They proceeded at a slow pace. She held onto the pommel of the saddle, feeling the horse moving beneath her. Through the bottom of the blindfold she could see greenery move by beneath them, but not much else. Anticipation continued to build inside her, taking over every other emotion. She swallowed nervously, and took deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. Just relax, she told herself, everything will be fine. Yet relaxing at that very moment was impossible. Dickon had something he wanted to show her, and she sensed that it was something significant.

Presently she both felt and heard the soft heather of the moor give way to gravel, and curiosity fill her. They appeared to be on some sort of road.

'You'll need t' get down now.' Dickon said shortly afterwards, and she could hear his voice shaking slightly. 'I'll help thee.'

She heard him dismount from his horse and walk around to her. 'I'm right here, Mary.' he said, and she felt his hand on her thigh.

It felt strange dismounting from her horse without being able to see where she was, or any of their surroundings. She brought her leg up slowly, and felt Dickon's hands guiding her down from the horse, until her feet touched the gravel.

'Are we there?' she said breathlessly. 'Can I take off the blindfold yet?'

'Not yet.' he replied, 'but soon, I promise.'

He took her hand and they walked forward slowly. For all that she was confused and on edge, she felt complete faith and assurance in Dickon. They walked together in silence, and she gripped his hand tightly. As they walked, her nose began to pick up the scent of jasmine, and daphne, tingled with rosemary. It only added to the mystery.

Presently, he stopped.

'This is it. This is what I've been wanting t' show thee for a long time now.'

Her heart was pounding in her excitement, and her mind flew with possibilities. She felt Dickon reach up behind her head and untie the blindfold, until at last he drew it away from her eyes.

'I'd like t' welcome you t' my home.'

She gasped in astonishment and delight as her eyes took in the small stone cottage that stood in front of her.

'Oh Dickon! It's ... it's lovely!' she cried in delight.

Indeed it was lovely. Her eyes widened at the sight of the small cottage that was surrounded by plants of every description, dripping with colour, fragrance heavy in the air.

Dickon's house was surrounded by a low stone wall, in which flowers had been planted in the crevices. An archway covered in red roses stood at each end of the wall, before the footpath up to the house. They walked towards it now, Mary delighting in the garden, as it began to be revealed to her. Plants of every colour and variety surrounded the little stone cottage – from climbing jasmine, to roses, lavender, rosemary and daphne. They walked under the archway and Mary glanced up, to see the blue sky through the leaves. She felt tears of happiness spring to her eyes. This was Dickon's home, and it was so lovely – a little slice of paradise – a garden that he had created.

She looked under her feet at the path of white gravel that ran up to the house. Snowdrops and bluebells lined the path, providing a stark contrast to the green of the grass that lay beside them. Wordlessly, the two of them walked, hand in hand.

They reached the front door, and stood facing each other. Mary reached out and took Dickon's hands then looked up into his eyes, seeing the tenderness and love that lay there.

'Does tha' like it?' he whispered.

She felt tears spring to her eyes. Words couldn't describe how much she adored it already – from the small cottage, to the beautiful garden. All she knew was that standing here with Dickon, there was no where else she would rather be in the entire world. She had travelled, always searching for meaning, for a home. She had found it at Misselthwaite, as a child, but now she had found something far more important. Love.

'I love it, Dickon. All of it.' she whispered.

Relief crossed his features, yet he still appeared nervous.

'That wasn't the only thing I wanted t' show thee.' he swallowed hard.

He reached down into his trouser pocket.

'This.' he said breathlessly, holding out a small band of gold.

'Oh Dickon!' she gasped.

A kaleidoscope of images flashed through her mind – the two of them, digging and laughing in the garden as children, Dickon showing her the Robin's nest, swimming in the river together, planning for Colin's surprise birthday party, the first kiss they shared in the garden. She had watched the boy grow into a handsome and strong man, a man who could always make her laugh, a man who she trusted more than anyone else in the world. In the space of ten years, Dickon had come to mean so much to her, she knew it now. He was someone she never wanted to live without.

The gold sparkled in the sun, and she took a deep breath, the moment still around her – the soft breeze, the warmth of the sun on her back, The deep blue of Dickon's eyes, the scent of roses and lavender.

'I don't have much.' he was saying, 'apart from my love for you. But I will share with you all that I have, and I will care for thee forever.'

Tears streamed in rivulets down her cheeks as he spoke. His words rang out, pure and true. She knew that he meant every word. She wiped her tears away with a trembling hand, then met his eyes. Too choked with emotion to speak, she held her hand out, and felt Dickon slide the small band of gold onto her ring finger. Then he leaned down and kissed her gently.

She closed her eyes, feeling Dickon's lips touch her own, seeming to awaken some place deep down inside her. She deepened the kiss, reaching up to pull him closer towards her, wanting him with a passion she had not felt before. They broke apart, and she heard Dickon let out a shaking breath. He took her hand, a questioning look come into his eyes, and she understood. No words were needed. She nodded her head, and followed him into the house.

It was dim, yet warm inside the stone cottage, the scent of jasmine permeating the air, flowing in from outside. She could smell the rough earth of the floor, and the starchiness of freshly washed linen. They passed through the main room, and into a smaller adjourning room. Her heart pounded in excitement. Dickon's bedroom.

They sat down together on his bed, sinking into the soft mattress. She leant back, pulling Dickon down next to her, so they were laying side by side. He reached up, running his fingers through her hair with great tenderness. She felt overwhelmed by the warmth and nearness of him, not quite knowing where to begin. Wanting to feel the warmth of his body, she pulled him closer towards him.

'Mary.' he whispered, lightly kissing her neck. He moved his lips down further, leaving a trail of kisses, each one making her tingle all the way down inside. The sensations were so new, so startling, yet so welcome. She hadn't realised that Dickon could make her feel this way. She didn't want him to stop. She held her breath, feeling his soft kisses, and realised that she was shivering slightly – although not from cold.

Her trembling fingers found the buttons of Dickon's shirt, and she undid them, one by one. She reached up inside, feeling his warm skin beneath her fingertips, smooth and supple. She stroked him lightly, running her fingers down his back, then around to the front of his chest, where she placed her palm gently above his heart.

'I can feel your heartbeat' she whispered.

'Aye,' Dickon murmured, closing his eyes, and letting out his breath deeply.

'It seems to be beating very fast.' she commented softly. 'How strange.'

Dickon's hands found the bottom of her shirt, and he gently pulled it out from where it was tucked into her trousers. He then moved his hands towards the buttons on the front of her shirt, but his hands were trembling so much that he could not undo them. She gently placed her hand on top of his.

'Let me.' she whispered.

She slowly unbuttoned her shirt, until it lay open, exposing her corset.

'Is tha' sure?' asked Dickon, his breath ragged. She saw fear lurking in his eyes, but also an eagerness, that seemed to reflect how she felt. She nodded. 'I'm sure.'

The sun fell, warm on her skin, as Dickon peeled back her corset. She looked up and saw tears in the corners of his eyes. 'You are so beautiful.' he said huskily. He reached down to kiss her, and she felt the warmth of his skin as it met hers, felt them begin to join in a way that felt so natural, so intimate. Time passed slowly, an eternity stretching out before them, and presently, Mary heard herself cry out in pain, then in pleasure, heard Dickon's voice mirroring her own. Finally, they lay together, exhausted but satisfied, wrapped in each other's arms, two entities blending into one.

Dickon nervously moved weight from foot to foot, trying to dispell some of the nervousness he felt.

'Dickon, for goodness sake, can't you be still? She will be here any moment.'

Dickon looked over at the grinning face of his childhood friend. Colin touched his arm gently.

'Take a deep breath and just relax.'

He tried to take his mind off his impending nuptials, and cast his eyes from the door of the church to the familiar faces seated before him. There in the front row was his Mother and Father, his siblings. Seated behind them, Martha and her family. His older sister met his eye and waved at him. Dickon returned the gesture.

Many people from Misselthwaite manor has also assembled. He could see Mrs Medlock, old Ben Weatherstaff (who surely hadn't just dabbed his eyes with a handkerchief?), Sarah Clare, his old workmates – they had all turned out to watch him, Dickon Sowerby, marry Mary Lennox.

He could hardly believe that this day had come at last, that it was real, that it was really happening. That he, Dickon Sowerby, was about to be married to the woman he loved more than anything in the entire world. He wondered how he could have got so lucky.

Of course I'll marry you Dickon, Mary had said to him as they lay in bed together. He recalled how she had stroked his forehead with her small hands, and how the band of gold had sparkled in the sunlight. 'Don't you know that you are what I have always wanted?'

A hush descended over the crowd.

'There she is!' Colin exclaimed in excitement.

Dickon looked towards the back of the church, and felt his heart swell with emotion.

A young woman, clad in a gown of white lace walked forward slowly, on the arm of an older man whose long hair was streaked with grey. Dickon looked up and met the eye of his former employer – Archibald Craven, and saw the proud expression on the older man's face.

Dickon lifted his eyes, and met those of his bride.

Mary Lennox was smiling, and the smile lit up her face in a radiant glow. Her eyes sparkled with tears of happiness. Dickon felt his heart skip a beat. She looked so beautiful and pure.

At last they reached him. The moment had finally arrived. He held out his arms in welcome, and she stepped towards him willingly. Dickon took her hands in his, and there they stood, waiting for the priest to begin, for their life together to start at last.

The end.