I stepped onto the narrow ledge e gingerly, trying to avoid the prying eyes of my mother. She had always been over-protective of me, and now was no time for her to be following me. I tip-toed quietly over to the very edge of the marble balcony; dropping down onto the floor below. Dusting down the front of my white muslin skirts I hurried forwards.

Many people think they know a lot about me. Some would say they know enough. That I am 17 years old this December. The prime age for my coming out, and eventual marriage. That I was born into a noble family. And that I am pretty enough to be considered a good trophy wife.

What many people don't see is who I really am. Ever since I was six years old I have been sneaking out. My father died while I was young and many people see that as the cause of my demise. I always used to get into trouble, yet no matter what my reasons are, I can never share them. Never explain why I'm not like every other lady in my family's acquaintance. That's because I know that no-one will listen, let alone believe me. Because I am The Mediator. And this is what I do.

I ran down the steep hill quickly, hitching my skirts above my ankles to stop them getting ruined. I had promised I'd meet the man tonight. He'd been bothering me all week and I felt that it was time I got rid of him. I threw a quick glance over my shoulder to check that I hadn't been followed, before continuing. It didn't take long for me to spot him. He was standing beneath my fathers pride and joy. An enormous mahogany tree. I came to a halt as I saw his silhouette turn in the moonlight. He truly was the most handsome man that I'd ever met. He can't have been more than twenty years old, with close-cropped black hair and dark eyes. His ink black eyebrows rose as he looked at me. As if he was comparing me to someone else. Though who that other person is I could not tell. He looked slightly taken aback by my appearance. This was rather rude seeing as my dress had been specially ordered from Italy; in order for me to keep ahead of the fashion.

I took a menacing step forwards and asked very rudely:

"What do you want?"

He grabbed my hand and pulled me closer to him, I struggled to break out of his grasp as he dragged me behind the tree. Or tried anyway. I kicked him in the shin before he took me too far. He muttered a curse in what I was almost certain was Spanish. But seeing as my tutor only taught us Latin and French I had no idea what it meant. I had the distinct feeling that I didn't want to know either. I took a couple of steps back, putting some distance between us.

"Susannah. Listen to me. You have to come back with me now." He sounded desperate, and there was something in his eyes that I couldn't put my finger on. He certainly didn't look dangerous. He actually looked like he…..well cared about me. Which was silly, because he'd only known me for about five seconds. Yet when he looked at me I could swear that he……

"I'm not going anywhere." I said quietly, planting both feet firmly on the ground. I don't know where he thought he was going to take me but I was certainly not going.

"Susannah. Please listen to me. Paul tricked you. He made you go back in time, to save me. But he was lying. If you stay here much longer then you'll be stuck here." He certainly looked sincere. But I'd learnt a long time ago that looks can be very deceiving. I shook my head at the mad man in front of me. It was a shame. He was very handsome. If he wasn't a complete psycho then I may have actually liked him. There was something in his eyes. Something about him. I felt like I knew him from somewhere. This was ridiculous, but still.

"Querida, please come." As soon as he said that word my whole world froze. I felt myself stepping backwards again. My mind was racing and I didn't know why.

"I don't know who you are, but you'd better keep away from me!" I yelled as I turned on my heel and ran. He didn't follow me. I heard him call out my name a couple of times though.

I kept running all the way back to the house. There I leaned against the wall panting uncontrollably.

The ghost had disturbed me. How had he managed to get me so confused? Why did I think I recognised him from somewhere?

And more importantly still: how did he know my name?