A/N: I'm sorry for the rather random chapter lengths. It's cause I didn't write this with any coherent structure in mind, and so some of the scenes are a lot longer than others and a little disjointed. I hope the speed with which I update limits the annoyance of this (I'll get a longer chapter up either tomorrow or the next day).

1915.

That summer was one of the best in Mary's memory. Although she missed Colin, who had been obliged to stay in London, his absence meant that she could spend every day in the garden without worrying about his growing bored or restless. And now that Dickon was working at Misselthwaite he often joined her, and the two of them spent many happy hours tending to the garden together, or else simply lying on the grass enjoying the sunshine. On such days the war seemed very far away indeed, so much so Mary found it hard to believe it was happening at all.

It was a lovely summer, and the garden bloomed in a glorious array of colour. Mary felt the changes echoed in her own body, which was undeniably maturing as the seasons progressed, transforming her from a girl into a young woman.

"Eh, look a' thee," remarked Martha warmly one morning as she helped Mary with the seemingly endless buttons at the back of her dress. "Thy's fillin' out nicely, tha' is." She pinched Mary's waist with a grin. "Look a' these curves! Tha'll be needin' a corset soon."

"Nonsense," she snapped back, feeling a blush spread over her face as she regarded her own reflection in the mirror. She didn't like to notice the changes in her body, as they were a reminder to her that childhood was coming to an end, and that meant all sorts of unpleasant things would soon be forced upon her. Just the thought of a corset made her shudder – she would never be able to work properly in the garden if she was forced to wear one of those. It would mean the end of planting, of being on her hands and knees and digging in the dirt. "I'm no different to how I've always been."

"If tha' says so," grinned Martha, finishing the buttons and giving Mary a quick twirl. "But tha's turned out a beauty, an' make no mistake. Why, our Dickon – " she broke off and bit her lip, as though worried she had said too much.

Mary suddenly felt much too hot and tight in her dress. "Our Dickon what?" she asked tentatively.

But Martha merely shook her head. "Ne'er mind tha'. Now, go run outside an' play, or whatever it is tha' does these days." And she bustled out without another word.

Mary could not get Martha's words out of her head. She was distracted, and her inability to sort through her thoughts in a logical way was making her contrary. And for once, not even the garden was able to calm her.

"Careful!" Dickon's hand shot out and clamped around her wrist, stopping what she had been about to do. "Tha's a lily, no' a weed!"

Mary blinked and looked down. She had indeed been about to pull the small little seedling out of the earth, as though it had been a thistle. "Oh dear," she whimpered, feeling suddenly close to tears. "I'm sorry."

"Eh, wha's th' matter?" asked Dickon kindly, guiding her hand away from the vulnerable plants and stooping down to look into her eyes. "Tha's been vexed all mornin'."

"I know," she moaned, slumping back onto the grass. "And I'm not quite sure why."

Dickon rubbed his chin with the palm of his hand, as though thinking hard. "If tha' doesn' know, how can tha' be vexed about it?"

She waved this logic aside. "It's just… do you – do you think I've changed?"

"Changed?" he frowned. "In wha' way?"

"I don't know, every way!" She was flustered, and could feel a blush spreading across her cheeks. She couldn't very well ask Dickon if he was noticing the changes happening in her body. Such a question would be far too awkward, no matter how much she wanted to know the answer.

"Well… I s'pose tha' is changin'," he said at last in a slow, careful voice.

She met his eyes, somewhat breathless. "How so?"

"Why, tha's becomin' a lady." His tone was light, his wide mouth stretched into a smile. "When tha' firs' come here, tha' was as wild as a missel thrush. Tha' still is, in a way."

"Is – is that a bad thing?"

"Eh, not at all, if tha' asks me," he took a deep breath of the fresh air and tilted his head to the sky. "But I imagine Medlock an' thy Uncle'll be wantin' thee tamed soon enow."

"Martha said I might have to start wearing a corset soon," she told him with a scowl.

Dickon's eyebrows lifted. "A corset? Wha' for?"

She flushed. "Because…because apparently it is the proper thing for a lady of my age and status to wear."

His face grew solemn. "Well, if it's proper then tha' should do it, Mary."

"I couldn't possibly wear a corset!" she snapped. "I'd never be able to garden properly in it."

Dickon looked horrified at such a prospect. "I never thought o' tha'," he said. "Seems awful silly t' me."

"I agree," she said, feeling better that he thought the same way she did, and together they resumed their gardening, until she stopped once more and looked at him.

"Dickon?" she asked tentatively.

He lifted his head, and she saw with amusement that he had a smudge of dirt on his cheek, an inch or so from his nose. Without thinking, she reached out and rubbed it off with her fingers. His eyes followed her movements and he grew very still.

"Does tha' like me as a lady?" she whispered.

She saw his adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "Aye," he said, and his voice was a little hoarse. He coughed and tried again. "Aye, I do."

"Good," she smiled and went back to her weeding, feeling better than she had all day, and thinking that perhaps the changes happening to her body weren't so bad after all.

:)