1915, cont.

"Where are we going, Dickon?" she asked again, smiling even as she stumbled slightly on the uneven ground. Dickon's hand tightened around her own momentarily, and his voice filtered back to her.

"Tha'll find out soon enow, Miss Mary." She couldn't see his face, because of the blindfold he had made her wear, but she could hear that he was smiling.

"Soon enow?" she repeated in mock imitation. "Tha's been sayin' tha' for over an hour!"

He laughed, and gave her arm a tug to help her over a ledge. She could hear the sound of rushing water growing louder, and her heart began to thump in anticipation. Above their heads, Soot gave a caw of excitement.

"I hope you're not planning anything dangerous," she said, trying to keep her tone light. When he didn't reply she grew worried. "Dickon?"

"Don' worry, Mary," came his voice at last, warm and reassuring. "S' jus' a bit o' fun, is all."

Fun, she thought sceptically, but bit her tongue. It was rare enough that she got to spend all day alone with Dickon, what with his work at Misselthwaite and her studies, and she didn't want to waste it on complaining. Not only that, but Colin was due back from London any day now, and she knew that once he was home it would be close to impossible for them to have any time alone.

It wasn't that she didn't enjoy the time that the three of them spent together. On the contrary, she, Dickon and Colin had become fast friends in the years following her arrival at Misselthwaite, and she wouldn't have wanted it any other way. But there was something special when it was just she and Dickon, something that made her heart flutter and her toes tingle curiously. It was a feeling she was becoming addicted to.

"We're here," breathed Dickon, and a moment later she felt him halt in front of her. His hand didn't release hers though, and for that she was glad.

The sound of water was very loud, like a roaring in her ears. Mary took a deep breath and steeled herself.

"Ready?" came Dickon's soft voice right beside her ear. She forced herself not to tremble as it tickled her.

"Aye."

"Well, then," and his hands came up to her hair, lifting the blindfold very gently from her eyes. Mary kept them shut.

"Tha' can open 'em now, tha' knows?' he whispered teasingly, still very close to her.

"I know," she gasped, aware now of the faint spray in the air, a kind of mist landing on her skin. "It's just… I want to remember this moment forever."

To her surprise, his hands rested lightly on her waist from behind, and she felt his lips on her hair. "So do I."

But then the contact was broken, so quickly she couldn't be sure she hadn't imagined it, and Mary's eyes fluttered open. She blinked against the sudden bright light, her eyes widening as she took in the sight before her.

It was a tremendous waterfall, larger than any she had ever seen before. It cascaded from an almost impossible height, spilling over a series of jutting rocks before finally crashing down into a crystal clear pool far below. They were standing on a long, protruding rock ledge about halfway up, so there was a magnificent view whether one looked up or down.

Dickon had moved to stand on the very edge of the outcrop, and he breathed in deeply, his hands on his hips like an explorer from one of the tales. "Does tha' like it?" he asked, turning to grin at her.

"It's… it's beautiful!" she called back, pushing her hair away from her face to better feel the spray on her skin. She was somewhat hot from the climb, and the coolness of it was a welcome relief. "Oh Dickon, I love it!"

He seemed pleased by her enthusiasm. "S'no' many folk as know how t' get here, either," he told her, leaning precariously over the edge to catch a stream of water with his hand. Mary gasped, even though she knew he'd never fall. "S'a secret way. Hidden. I thought tha'd like it."

She beamed at him. "It's like another garden, only wilder."

"An' wetter," he grinned, using his hand to take a drink from the waterfall and smacking his lips. She laughed at his antics, feeling completely at ease. The sun was still gleaming down on them from a bright blue sky, warm and happy. It felt as though her heart was swelling with the pleasure of it; as though she could sing.

She caught Dickon staring at her. The expression on his face made her stomach do strange little flips, but she tried not to show it. Instead she simply stared back, and his lips curved upwards.

"What is it?" she asked, aware that when Dickon smiled like that there was almost always a plan brewing in his mind.

"Oh, nothin' much," he stretched luxuriously, still grinning. "Jus' thinkin' how hot it is, after tha' climb. An' how nice an' cold th' water mus' be."

She blinked at him, before his meaning fully registered in her brain. Her eyes flicked to the pool of water far below them and back to Dickon, whose grin was positively splitting his face now.

"No."

He tossed his head back and laughed. "Eh, an' why no'? Tha'r'nt scared of a bit o' water, are thee?"

She glowered at him. "It's too far. The water won't be deep enough."

"S'deep enow," he answered blithely, hopping onto one foot to pull his boot off, then the other.

"And how do you know that?"

He shook off his outer jacket and unhooked his suspenders so they hung loose from his belt. Mary watched, open-mouthed, as he stripped off first his worn over-shirt and then the plain white singlet he wore underneath, leaving him bare-chested. She stared at the hard, slightly tanned skin of his chest and stomach, and felt a deep blush creep over her cheeks. "Easy," he said. "I've jumped in afore."

It took her longer than it should have for her to register what he said. "When?" she demanded, tearing her eyes away from the firm definition of his body with an effort.

He shrugged. "I found it a few months ago, an' I been back once or twice since then. I've been waitin' for a good day t' show thee." He began to unbuckle his trousers and her eyes practically jumped out of her head.

"Dickon!" she cried, whirling around so she wasn't facing him. Her heart was thudding so hard it was almost painfully.

"Wha'?" he sounded genuinely bemused.

"You can't – you can't just – " she swallowed, hating how shrill her voice was. "You can't just undress like that!"

"I'm no' naked."

"Yes, but – "

"Geronimo!" he yelled suddenly, and she spun around in time to see him cannonball off the edge, his body immediately lost from view in the spray. There was a second of silence, before a deafening splash in the water below.

"Dickon!" she screamed, running to the edge and dropping to her knees. She peered desperately down at the water, but all she could see was froth and bubbles. "Dickon!"

There was an odd rippling on the surface, and a moment later Dickon's head broke the surface, sleek as an otter. He shook his hair out of his eyes and waved up at her.

"Come on Mary! Th' water's beautiful!"

She clambered to her feet, trying not to show how scared she had been for a moment. "You are positively insane, Dickon Sowerby!"

He laughed. "Jump!"

"I can't!"

"An' why no'?"

She bit her lip, torn about whether to tell him the truth or just make up an excuse. She was ashamed to admit it, but she knew that Dickon would never laugh or make fun of her. "I…" she began hesitantly. "I can't swim."

A look of surprise crossed his features, and for a moment he was speechless. Then he smiled once more and slapped the water with his hand. "Well, I'll teach thee now, then."

Her heart did a flip at the thought. Learn to swim? Now? It was both incredibly tempting and utterly terrifying. But if anyone would be able to teach her, it was Dickon. And she was feeling awfully hot.

She gnawed her lip as she watched him swim in a slow, lazy circle below her, as though to demonstrate just how easy it was. She couldn't really jump, could she?

After a minute or so had passed, Dickon stopped and looked up at her again with a disappointed expression. "Eh, tha'rt too scared, I see," he said heavily. "I shoulda brought someone else, wit' stronger vitals."

Her blood boiled, and she immediately made up her mind. "I am not scared!" she snapped, her finger scrabbling to untie the ribbons that kept her dress in place. Dickon smirked in satisfaction, and she knew he was just baiting her, damn him. But nobody called Mary Lennox a coward. Nobody!

She had stripped down to her chemise before she knew what she was doing. The rock felt cold beneath her bare feet, and the roar of the waterfall seemed louder somehow. Her heart thudded, but she couldn't turn back now. She could see Dickon's face below, no longer smiling but staring up solemnly, lips whispering encouragement under his breath.

"Jump!" he called out.

And so she did. For a moment the sheer terror of being suspended in mid-air struck her, and she screamed. Then gravity tugged her downwards, and before she had even registered that she was falling she felt her feet hit the water; an instant later she was immersed, the world full of bubbles and froth and a strange fizzing noise. She stared around wide-eyed, and opened her mouth by mistake, choking on the cold water as it rushed inside her. Her lungs began to protest and she kicked out wildly, not knowing which way was up or down. What if Dickon couldn't find her? The thought struck her like a cannonball and she began to struggle. Her chemise was so heavy, like a dead weight dragging her down. Her head was spinning and her arms flailed uselessly in the water, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly. She was going to drown… she was going to…

And then she felt a pair of strong, capable hands grab her shoulders and drag her upwards, and her head broke the surface and there was air, blissful air, and Dickon's arms around her, holding her steady.

She clung to him, choking back a sob as the terror of drowning receded somewhat from her mind and she came slowly back to reality.

"Eh, tha's alrigh'," he said, his voice calm and reassuring. Still she clung to him, her arms around his neck and her head buried in his shoulder, terrified that he would let go and the water would suck her down again. "Mary, s'alrigh', s'alrigh' now."

She was shivering, a combination of the sudden cold, her terror, and also her embarrassment at such a childish reaction. But Dickon wasn't laughing at her. Instead he cradled her almost reverently, his arms strong and steady around her, one supporting her shoulders and the other under her knees. When she lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him, she saw that he was frowning in concern.

"I'm sorry," she muttered miserably. Her heart was still beating an erratic panic alarm, making it difficult to think straight.

He shook his head. One of his hands shifted its grip, and she felt a momentary return of the terror, but he only reached up to smooth her hair back from her face, and his support of her body didn't falter.

"S'always hard, th' firs' time," he said gently, and she winced at how kind he sounded, as though she were a small child that needed comforting. Which was exactly what she felt like, right then. "I shouldna got tha' to jump from so high. Was loutish o' me."

"No," she tightened her grip around his neck, and thought she saw something flicker in his eyes in response. "It's not you. I'm just a coward, that's all."

"Coward?" He shook his head, and his face was suddenly very close to hers; dangerously close. "Tha's the bravest lass I know, Mary."

"Really?" Mary stared into his eyes, no longer feeling the chill of the water, but rather a burning heat, as though her blood was on fire and would never cool again. She held her breath, the roar of the waterfall fading into the background. Dickon's lips were parted slightly and his blue eyes seemed to take up his entire face. He swallowed and his arms tensed around her just a fraction. He was so close now… so close…

Suddenly there was a loud caw above them. They both started, and Mary almost forgot where she was in her shock. She made to step away before remembering that she was suspended in water and could neither stepnor move backwards. The result was that she gave an odd little jerk, before clinging onto Dickon again.

"What is it?" she asked as Soot cawed again, the sound harsh in the otherwise tranquil silence.

"Listen," said Dickon, and she did. Presently a very faint voice could be heard, above the sound of the waterfall. Someone calling.

"Who is that?" She hoped someone wasn't about to barge in and discover them. Not that they were doing anything wrong, she thought defensively. But she doubted whether Medlock would agree with her; Mary was fairly certain that being in the arms of a half-dressed Dickon Sowerby, wearing nothing but her chemise, would most definitely fall under the broad heading of 'improper.'

"Don' know," answered Dickon, and he looked at her. His face was at a much more respectable distance now, and his eyes didn't meet hers for very long. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "But we'd bes' go check. Can tha' hold on while I swim us t' shore?"

She nodded, and he began to swim, his strong arms powering them to the edge of the pool with no apparent difficulty, despite the awkward weight she placed on him. Mary felt a wave of relief sweep through her when her toes scraped the bottom, and she could stand, wobbling, on her own two feet.

There was no time to dry off. Mary rang out her chemise as best she could, while Dickon scrambled back up the cliff to recover their clothes. They dressed in silence, Mary casting occasional sidelong glances at her friend. He seemed unusually reticent, and there was a slight crease to his brow that hadn't been there earlier, she thought.

The voice was still calling, though it hadn't grown any louder. "Why aren't they coming closer?" she asked as he began to guide them back along the path.

"My guess is they pro'lly canna find th' way," he said, picking his way along the rocks with ease. Mary wished he was still holding her hand.

"It really is a secret place, then?"

"Aye."

"We'll have to come back," she said tentatively, watching his back. The collar of his shirt was wet from his dripping hair. "And you can teach me to swim properly."

He nodded, but didn't turn around. Was she imagining it or were his shoulders much stiffer than normal?

Finally, after a walk that seemed far longer than the one on the way there, they returned to relatively flat ground. They were still in the forest, and there was still no visible track; but far ahead, where the trees ended and their horses stood patiently waiting, she could see another figure.

"Is that – "

"Colin," said Dickon, and he picked up his pace.

It was indeed Colin, his face pinched in annoyance, pacing beside their horses with a hand raised to magnify his voice.

"Mary!" he bellowed, his face red from shouting and his blonde fringe falling into his eyes. "Mary! Where are you?"

"I'm right here," she said when she was close enough that she didn't have to shout. He jumped as if electrocuted and span to face her, his face paling as though he had seen a ghost.

"Mary!" he exclaimed, striding forward. "There you are! I've been calling for half an hour!"

She bit her lip and resisted the urge to snap at him. "I thought you were in London," she said instead.

"I was," he said, sounding slightly hurt. "But I came back today, and you weren't at home."

"We went for a ride," said Mary, feeling too contrary to let him in on the secret of the waterfall just yet.

Colin's eyes flicked to Dickon, who was standing just behind her. "Some ride," he muttered.

"How did you find us?" she asked.

Colin's cheeks flushed. "I rode to Thwaite," he said, not meeting her eye. "Since Medlock said you had gone to visit Mrs Sowerby. And when you weren't there, I asked around until I found someone who said they'd seen you heading east over the moor, so I went in that direction until I saw your horses here, and then I tried to find you in the woods but I couldn't, so I came back here and tried calling."

"That's an awful lot of effort," said Mary dryly. "Why didn't you wait until we came back to the Manor?"

He glared at her. "I was worried."

"Worried!" she exclaimed. "Whatever for? You knew I was with Dickon."

Colin looked back at Dickon with a sour expression, then seemed to notice something. "You're all wet," he said in a slightly accusatory manner. His eyes travelled over them, taking in Mary's dripping hair and the damp neckline of her dress. "What have you been doing?"

"Swimming," she answered defiantly. She turned to glance at Dickon, deciding it was up to him to tell Colin about the hidden waterfall. After all, he had been the one who discovered it. It was his secret.

But Dickon didn't say anything, and the silence stretched.

"Swimming?" echoed Colin blankly. His eyes raced from Dickon to Mary and back again. "But… where?"

"Never mind that," said Mary. "I'm cold and I need to change my clothes. Shall we go home?"

They began the long ride back across the moor. Colin prattled away about the interesting things he had been learning in London, and Mary half-listened to him. She kept her eye on Dickon, and grew progressively more concerned when he failed to contribute to the conversation. Even Soot seemed subdued, riding on Dickon's shoulder rather than flying ahead as he had on the way to the waterfall.

When they reached the fork in the road that led to Thwaite, Colin stopped.

"You may as well go home now," he told Dickon rather imperiously. "There's no sense in riding all the way to Misselthwaite and back. I can take Mary from here."

"I thought Dickon could have dinner with us," she suggested, but Colin waved her off.

"I'm sure Dickon would much rather eat with his family. Isn't that right, Dickon?"

"But – " she began.

"S'alrigh', Miss Mary," said Dickon. His voice was warm as usual, but she couldn't help but think his smile was a little strained. "Colin's righ'. I'll see thee tomorrow."

"I suppose," she said sulkily. He grinned at her tone, then touched his cap and eased Jump in the opposite direction, moving away along the boggy track with ease.

She and Colin rode in silence for a while. Mary could tell he was waiting for the right moment to speak, and she wished he would just get it over with.

"You shouldn't go off alone so far from the Manor," he said at last, sounding very authoritative for a fifteen-year-old boy.

"I wasn't alone," she said stubbornly. "I was with Dickon."

He sighed. "You know what I mean, Mary."

"And why not?" she demanded.

He faltered somewhat under her withering stare. "It's not – it's not particularly proper, is it? Just you and Dickon alone, with no supervision. Who knows what people will say."

"People should mind their own business," she said scathingly.

"Especially when they see the two of you went swimming," Colin went on, as though he hadn't heard her. "I hope you weren't in the water at the same time, Mary."

She blushed, thinking of how close they had been, Dickon bare-chested and she only in her chemise, wrapped together like… like… she stared off to the side, feeling hot again just remembering. The strength of his arms holding her, his lips so close… so close to hers…

"Well?" Colin's voice cut in impatiently.

"Oh leave me be, Colin!" she snapped. She knew he would most certainly not approve of the way she and Dickon had behaved, and this frustrated her for reasons she couldn't explain. "I already have one Medlock, I don't need another."

There was a long pause. "I was only asking," he mumbled at last, sounding put-out. "There's no need to be like that."

And they rode the rest of the way home in stormy silence.

Thanks, as always, for the reviews. They're heartwarming :)