As it was, Emmeline didn't kill Lizzie, and for that Colin was eternally grateful. She did, however, laugh heartily and thank her mother for forcing her to invite Harry Dennel in the first place, as otherwise he wouldn't have been punched in the nose by her sister at all. Emmeline was a firm believer that all weddings should contain at least one dramatic event, and as the rest of the day had been perfectly smooth- bar her mother having one sherry too many and spilling a few more stories than she would perhaps have liked- a single punch-up was nothing to sulk about.

Colin watched Emmeline and Teddy motor off into the sunset with a fond relief- he rather liked Lizzie's sultry and determined sister, but was certainly relieved that it would be a break of a few months before the next wedding. That would be Mary and Dickon's, he assumed, but hopefully Mary would be so in control that he wouldn't require him to actually help too much. The thought of more table decorations, bridesmaid dresses, and flowers made him shudder. Besides, Martha had likely planned the entire thing by now, anyway!

"What are you thinking about?" Lizzie had appeared at his elbow, and he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close to kiss the top of her head.

"I was just working out how long we'll have to recover from this wedding before we get launched into the next."

"And your conclusion was…?"

"Two months, I estimate. I know Mary wanted to get married in spring."

Lizzie leaned into him, resting her head on his chest. "So… when are we getting married?" she asked, looking up at him.

Colin's face scrunched up in thought. "I suppose I had late summer in mind," he said. "When everything turns golden and mystical."

"Golden and mystical?" Lizzie laughed. "So you are a romantic, Colin Craven."

"Well I do know that golden afternoon light is your favourite, Miss Templeton."

"And the light of the morning dawn is yours," she replied. "I keep envisioning waking up in the dark, and getting ready, and then saying our vows as the sun peeks above the horizon and climbs into the sky." Her voice was wistful.

Colin's heart swelled and he held her tightly. "Now who's the romantic?" He felt her laugher vibrate through her chest, and he dipped his head to bury his nose into the warmth of her hair, breathing in the scent of her until her felt almost dizzy. "Thank you," he whispered, breath stirring the tendrils of hair that has escaped around her ears.

"For what?"

Her own whisper made him shiver, and in that moment he knew that he had to tell her. He knew that he couldn't keep any more secrets from her, not this beautiful woman who had held his heart in the palm of her hand for so long, and yet had tended it with such care, even when he had damaged hers in his haste to keep it close to him. She had to know.

"Lizzie, I need to tell you…" he trailed off, suddenly unsure how to start. He felt weak, as though he should be the strong, brave one, but in this moment he just couldn't be. He wondered abruptly if she would hate him for his weakness, if she expected him to be the man who could care for her without ever needing care in return. Panic began to close in, and his chest grew tight until he really thought. This woman, who he so needed, had the heart of a lion. She would not run away from his past as he had done; she would face it head on, confront it with his hand safe in hers until he could also stare it in the eye, letting the hurricane of memories blow through him, past him, until it faded into a gentle breeze that could not hurt him anymore. He took a deep breath, started again. This time he did not waver, he did not trail off. "Lizzie, I need to tell you."

She looked up at him, her eyes calm in complete understanding. "Ok," she said, and guided him through the house, up into the Templeton library, a place where they would never be disturbed.

Huge, soft, enveloping leather arm chairs crooked their fingers, and yet it was the hard wooden ledge of the windowsill that beckoned most invitingly. They scrambled up, Colin first, and then Lizzie, until they sat facing one another with the curtains drawn on one side, frost adorning the window panes on the other.

Lizzie sat silently, watching Colin, waiting for him to start. He took another deep breath, steeling himself to recount fully the events of ten years, for the first time ever.

"You remember the letter that I wrote you when you left for the first time, when Isabelle was unwell?"

Lizzie nodded. She didn't look surprised that the letter was involved in the story.

"I was trying to tell you why I so disliked Rochester, for locking up his mad wife."

She nodded again.

"And I told you it was because I'd known a boy, who had been locked up for the first ten years of his life, despite his illness being a figment of his own imagination." He looked up at her, his eyes pleading for her to understand. Her face was neutral, impassive, and his heart plummeted suddenly as he wondered if he was wrong to tell her.

" I wasn't entirely honest with you," he continued, eyes in his lap once more. "I- I- The boy was me."

Colin looked up anxiously when Lizzie said nothing, and she met his eyes almost sadly.

"I know," she said, and her voice was so gentle that he almost sobbed.

"How?" he whispered, voice shaking a little. He could feel the hurricane coming.

"Everything added up," she replied, quietly. "The way Mary and Dickon watch you, like you could fall and smash at any moment- you're the only person that Mary does that with, and probably the only person that she ever will; the way you seemed both so uncomfortable, and yet so used to the wheelchair; that sense of anguish that everyone felt, even if they didn't directly express it in front of me-" She smiled briefly. "The aversion to doctors. It all added up." She paused, reaching forward to hold one of his hands in her lap, stroking it almost absentmindedly. "And if you think for one second that it changes anything, you're wrong."

He shuddered then, a deep, convulsive shudder as the hurricane passed through him and he fought for control. Tears sprung to his eyes and he bit his lip hard to stop himself crying out as all the hurt and pain boiled up inside him in one devastating tide. She was by his side in an instant, his hands clutching her as her arms went around him, holding his head to her, pressing herself against him as though she could absorb his pain into her body instead leaving it floundering unchecked in his own.

"Breathe," she whispered. "Breathe."

Colin breathed.

"Sorry," he whispered.

Lizzie said nothing as she settled back down, though she still held his hand.

"I suppose I just needed to… get that out."

"And did you?" she asked, her voice still quiet and gentle, as though she were soothing a wounded animal.

Colin nodded, still breathing hard. He gave her a sheepish smile. "I feel as though I've run a marathon."

Lizzie smiled back. "The world's most emotionally-testing marathon."

"Christ." Colin slumped back against the wood panelling, head resting on the window pane.

"So," Lizzie said, after a few moments of silence. "What's the whole story?"

"From the very beginning?"

"From the very beginning."

"My mother married my father despite no-one wanting her to. He was rich, of course, but he was also a reclusive hunchback and they didn't believe that he could make her happy. But he did. So they married, and she moved from her family's beautiful estate in Norfolk to live in Yorkshire. That's how our families know each other, you know. Country estates in Norfolk. Your mother and mine were childhood friends." Colin allowed himself a smile. "I always wonder if she'd have been as much of a gossip as your mother is."

Lizzie grinned. "No-one is as much of a gossip as my mother. But it makes sense now- my mother seemed so sad when that estate was sold."

"I suppose it should really belong to us," said Colin. "Or Mary. It was as much her mother's as mine."

"Maybe it's better that it's gone, then."

"Maybe." Colin shrugged. "I'd like to see it one day, though. I'd like to see the gardens." He was silent for a moment before continuing.

"My mother fell pregnant a year or so after they were married." He took a deep breath. "It was April, and she was in the garden, on the swing. She was eight months pregnant. She fell- I don't know how- and my father carried her inside. Ran like madman, they say.

"The fall brought on her labour too early. I was born alive, but she died." Colin ran a hand over his eyes and sighed. "They thought I'd die, too. I used to feel as though I hated her, for leaving me all alone. I blamed her for everything. If she hadn't died, perhaps father would have dared to look at me, to love me.

"But he didn't. I realise now, that it was because he was so afraid that I would die that he didn't let himself feel for me. He couldn't put himself at risk of that sort of loss again. So he left me, while he went travelling. I had everything- toys, books, nurses, servants- except love. He tried to let himself forget that I existed. He paid for whatever money could buy, but couldn't give me the one thing I needed.

"In 1910, there was a cholera epidemic in India. Mary's parents, my mother's twin sister and her husband, died. Mary was brought here, my father being her only living relative. Made a complete nuisance of herself, too. Medlock and the servants hadn't told her about me- I used to hate being stared at, selling people feel sorry for me." He laughed shortly. "I still do! And yet, I supposed I almost enjoyed their pity. I used it to my own advantage, certainly. I had everyone twisted around my fingers- you can imagine what a nasty, spoilt, pity-wallowing brat I was.

"And then Mary arrived in my room one night- she'd heard me crying. I was so shocked, I thought she was a ghost. She just stared at me, and I didn't really mind. She was the only other child I'd ever met. We talked, and she sang to me- I can't imagine her doing that now- and then she went, and I woke up the next morning sure she was a dream.

"I made Martha bring Mary to me- poor Martha was terrified that she'd be sacked." He laughed. "I ordered her around like I was a prince- that's when Mary started calling me Rajah. I thought it was a compliment!

"One day she'd promised to come and see me, but she'd gone out with Dickon instead."

"Sounds like Mary!" Lizzie laughed.

"I was in the most horrible temper. I'd been on the sofa all morning, but my back ached and I was tired, and so I made them put me back in bed in the afternoon. Mary came in, and she was ready to tell me all about her day, when I insulted Dickon."

"So that's where the 'common cottage boy off the moor' thing came from!" Lizzie exclaimed. "Now I understand!"

"Yes, that's where it came from. Mary just flew into a temper, and I threw a pillow at her. It didn't get very far. She stormed out, and I remember afterwards she told me that the nurse had been standing outside laughing at us. I didn't find it funny at the time, but I suppose it was funny. Anyway, I had the biggest tantrum of my life, because I'd never had anyone stand up to me before. I was completely hysterical." Colin was playing with the hem of Lizzie's dress, eyes fixed on the material. "I thought I'd found a lump. I once heard Mrs Medlock mention my father's spine, and I thought about it so much that the idea was completely fixed in my head. So when I found a lump, I just screamed and screamed. I was frightened, I suppose. Just living in constant fear.

"Mary was so angry that she came and screamed at me until I stopped." He smiled again. "All of the adults were terrified, so they let a ten-year-old deal with me. She told me in no uncertain terms that if I screamed again she would scream louder and would frighten me, so I stopped. And then she told me that there was nothing wrong with my back, and that she would laugh if I ever mentioned it again. While I hate being pitied, being laughed at is so much worse.

"She forced me outside- Dickon pushed my chair. They took me to my mother's garden- my father locked it up when my mother died, but Mary found the door and the key, and she and Dickon had looked after it. It was there that I stood first, walked first, ran first. And it was there that my father finally looked me in the eyes and wasn't scared to love me. That garden means so much to us.

"So when I was injured, and I thought I wouldn't walk again, I was distraught. We all were. I'd only just found my feet, and then they were being taken again. But I found you." Colin looked up at Lizzie, to find tears streaming down her face. "Why are you crying?" he asked, worried. "Are you hurt?"

She nodded.

"Where? Do you want me to get help?" Panic invaded his voice.

She shook her head. "I'm not hurt physically," she said, "but my entire body hurts for you."

Colin leaned forward and took her face between his palms. "You don't need to hurt anymore."

Lizzie kissed him. "Neither do you," she said.

Thanks for reading! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter- feel free to leave a comment! :)