The sky was beautiful and the birds sang happily in the trees. A gentle breeze tugged Susan's hair back from her face. She leaned her face toward it, closing her eyes. She exhaled, letting her breath be carried by the winds.

Susan loved these gardens, they were grander than those at Mansfield Park. These exhibitioned exotic plants and she had seen the conservatory with even more. To think that Fanny owned all of this. These gardens belonged to her. The great building that was the principal home and the stables. There were guest houses also. There were fields and wilderness, ponds and creeks.

Even though Fanny did not appear prouder or arrogant in her newfound position, she had the confidence of a mistress. Of a woman that could do as she wished, that had maids, butlers, and even her husband at her disposal. A woman that completely owned her little corner of the world.

Her sister was so happy. It brought so much comfort to Susan.

Yet why did a tear escape her eyes?

Walking deeper into the wilderness, away from the house, Susan allowed the tears to come.

She hoped that letting them escape would lighten her heart, but it seemed as if each tear was torn from her chest, tearing her heart and burning her eyes.

How childish.

She continued walking. The path was becoming more narrow and she changed direction. She had a good sense that the wilderness became thicker and eventually became the forest. So she headed down another path, still away from the house.

To distract herself, she tried to make sense of what she thought of her new brother.

William was completely taken by him. Fanny loved him. What did she think of him?

She was unsure. They merely exchanged pleasantries before William would interrupt or Fanny drew her attention.

She decided she did not think much of him, though she bore him no ill will. He was merely an acquaintance. Husband of her sister.

The path turned, most likely doubling back to the house, but Susan heard noise far ahead.

Itching with curiosity, Susan continued forward. She was abruptly out of the trees and in the clear. She was immediately surrounded by people and laughter.

Susan was a well-mannered girl, and she had always been… relatively. But there was a distinct difference in the manners one used in giant homes such as Everingham and in a village. Here, surrounded by milling people, vendors calling, and children laughing, Susan felt the most relaxed that she had since she arrived in Mansfield Park.

The stiffness from her shoulders loosened, the weight of always having someone of a higher status nearby disappeared. These people did not seem to mind she did not have a chaperone or companion in the confusing crowd. Her dress was originally from one of her cousin's but she did not notice anymore, and neither did anyone else. There had been festivals like these at Portsmouth every once in awhile, but they were different further inland.

The air was fresh, first of all. It smelled of flowers and pastries cooking over slow fires. One vendor offered her a treat, but she did not carry any money. His wife slyly slipped her a piece of bread anyway.

Susan continued her walk among the people. Her bonnet was not one of the nicest here, it seemed everyone had dressed their best for this festival. A man showed her his ribbons and lace that she thought was very fine. She fingered the material, saddened she did not have anything to purchase it with.

"The ribbon for the lady, please," A hand reached over her to pay the vendor. The vendor took the coin with a smile.

Susan felt her heart speed up. Could it be? Ridiculous…

Turning slowly, afraid to be right, but even more afraid of being wrong, Susan faced the tall form of Tom Bertram.

Blinking a few times to make sure she was seeing right, she quickly left.

Susan weaved through the crowd, but she could feel him close behind.

He did not reach for her, or stop her. He was just constantly there.

A little out of breath, and not from exercise, Susan paused at where a singer was performing on a stage. She felt him stand beside her.

They both watched the singer, silent, without acknowledgement of each other. Until he reached his hand out, not looking at her. There was a ribbon hanging from his fingers.

"My brother will not be happy you are here," Susan said, not touching the ribbon.

"I did not come for him," Tom answered, his voice rumbling from him chest, shaking Susan's heart. His hand never wavered.

Quickly, she took the ribbon, but it was not fast enough. Their fingers brushed, and Susan felt the electricity she had felt the first time she had fingered his forehead when he had been ill.

They had brought him in, a dreadful shadow of a man, causing all of Mansfield Park to panic for his safety. Lady Bertram had been inconsolable, and, bless her, completely useless to nurse him. Susan found the task falling to her.

She remembered that at first, she had hours upon hours of just staring at his silent form, his still face. Slowly, he had regained strength, he watched her with those piercing eyes of his. Then he would call her. Calling her name sweetly, asking for water, a book, or the drapes to be drawn. He loved to have books read to him…

Somewhere along the way, she had completely fallen in love. She, the tiny, naive girl, had fallen for the great Tom Bertram, heir of Mansfield Park, renown gambler and womanizer. However, he did not act as his reputation held him to be, at least not that she could see.

"How is your sister? and Henry?" He asked, cutting into her thoughts. She spared him a glance, he was not looking at her, his eyes were on the singer. His hair was still long, she noted.

"They are well, I believe," Susan answered politely.

"Henry is a good lad," Tom smiled, she could see his dimple appear on his cheek.

"Like you?" Susan asked, then regretted her blurting mouth.

"Yes," Tom faced her. "We are both surprisingly good husband material."

"Mr. Bertram, how did we come to meet today?" Susan asked, suddenly feeling very tired. Much like the day before.

"By chance, I assure you, Miss Price." Tom said. "I was riding through to Everingham when I spotted so many people. I was curious and stopped."

Could she admit to herself how happy she was? The feeling was dangerous and she knew. Why must he come to tease her all the way to Everingham? She dared not ask why he was here. Upon closer observation, she could notice the strain of the journey on his face. His color was subdued and the lines on his face were deeper. Was he even fully recovered?

"It would be best if you headed to Everingham." Susan told him gently.

"Must I?" Tom responded just as gently.

"It is your decision," Susan said finally.

She withdrew with a curtsy, the place she had been quickly filled by other people. Her emotions were in turmoil.

She quickly retraced her steps and Tom did not follow her this time. She reentered the forest and for the second time that day, the trees witnessed her tears.

She did not understand these emotions, she had never experienced them before. Susan pressed a fist to her chest, it felt as if her heart would explode. Why? Why was it painful? She fancied Tom Bertram, why was there so much complication in her mind? Was it William's dangerous eyes when he walked in on her and Tom reading a book aloud? Was it Sir Bertram's silent frown and suggestion to take her away to Everingham? Was it Tom's intense eyes as she departed with William not a few days ago?

Whipping her eyes, Susan took a breath, feeling childish once more. She must not make prenotions over nothing.

As she made her way back to Everingham, her resolute and her step became stronger. Yet, her heart felt fainter. Tom Bertram was here.


A/N: Hello! I know… I failed you all again and took forever to update. I have no excuses….

I want to make quick notes about age. I know Susan is supposed to be 14 when she goes to Mansfield. However, for the purpose of this story she will be 17, a year younger than Fanny. Mostly because that's the age I picture Susan. Tom is 25 like in the book.