So sorry for the very long delay in updating!

Part of her felt somewhat ridiculous, sat as she was alone on the bench near a cluster of well-tended graves. And yet, who would, in reality, have any concern about someone sitting alone in a churchyard? Wasn't it the place people were supposed to go if they wanted solitude, or commune with a lost loved one?

Was Siegfried a lost loved one? Not in the ordinary sense of course but…she had lost him. Somehow, for some reason, he had chosen not to follow her, not to make a new life with her away from Darrowby's prying eyes. She hadn't been enough for him, not in that moment. His duty to his practice and its patients had come before her, not to mention the angst she would likely have continued to bring to his life. Without her…well, he could have remained as he was; a cheerful widower neither up nor down in life. She knew she had changed him, and perhaps not for the better.

And what of her own life? The passing years had given her ample opportunity to think about it. Had she never met him, never been attracted to him, never allowed him to court, woo her and propose to her…never allowed him to take her to bed…how different might her life had been? She certainly wouldn't be the person she was now, wouldn't have had the experiences she had had, wouldn't have been trusted by Peter with such a heavy burden.

Rising, she found herself starting to pace slightly, glancing at the watch on her wrist to see the hands slip almost to ten past the hour. During her walk, she had wondered how long she might wait for him. Ten minutes might be too little if he was otherwise engaged, an hour possibly too long. What was the appropriate duration of time to give someone to decide if they wanted to see you? How long would she have kept him waiting, had the boot been on the other foot?

A soft breeze rippled through the trees, and she turned her face upwards to the warming sun. It was odd, how the same sun could shine over the whole country, the whole world, and yet each place was so different. A Yorkshire sun seemed like no other.

She was broken from her reverie by the sudden sound of hurried footsteps and, turning quickly, she saw him.

Her first thought was that he had barely changed from the man she had last seen five years earlier and yet, as he grew closer to her, she could see that those years had left an indelible mark on him. He looked older, perhaps more so than he should have, more drawn and his gaze more mistrustful. Her second thought was that faced with him in front of her she still desired him as much, if not more, than she ever had done.

"I…wasn't sure you'd come," she said, her voice sounding foreign to her own ears. "I wasn't sure how long to wait."

He stopped a few feet away from her. "In all honesty I wasn't sure I was going to come."

"But you did."

"Yes, I suppose I did." She felt his eyes rake over her. "You look well."

"Thank you, as do you."

"You sound…different."

"Oh…" she felt herself blush slightly. "Being in London, people found it hard to understand me so, I tried to modify the way I spoke so that it was easier for them. It's stuck but…being back here, I can feel the old twang coming back."

"Yes, you can tell it's still there." He shuffled slightly but made no move to come closer. "You've been in London then."

"Yes."

"All these years?"

"Well, I went to Bexley first and then London. You might be surprised to hear this but…well…for the last few years I've been living with Peter."

"Peter?" He frowned. "Peter Purvis?" She nodded. "You've been living with him?"

"Yes."

"As his what, exactly?" he asked, his tone taking on a harsh quality.

"Oh, not his wife, if that's what you're thinking!" she exclaimed. "No, Tristan…Tristan was right about Peter, to an extent."

"In what sense?"

"In the sense that…well, that he preferred the company of men."

He paused. "Ah…I see. Seems so long ago now that I was chastising him for using the word deviant. So, then you were his…housekeeper?"

It was the obvious thought, and why wouldn't he think it? She had no business criticising him for it, but part of her couldn't help but think that he should have known her better than that, had more faith in her, as he once professed to have had.

"No, I was his assistant. In his practice."

He took a step towards her, his expression one of surprise. "His assistant? You mean…you've been practicing as a vet?"

"Yes. Peter was very good at taking the time to train me, much as you had started to do, and as time went on…I became more confident at it and…"

"You disappeared down to London to practice as a vet?" His tone was harsh again, his brow furrowed. "After everything…after all I…"

"It wasn't my plan, Siegfried," she said. "When I left Darrowby…"

"Yes, let's talk about when you left Darrowby," he cut across her. "Let's talk about that day, shall we?"

"I won't if you're going to speak to me in that tone," she replied, her own hackles starting to rise. Who was he to claim all the anger when it had been his choice not to follow? "I'll go straight back to Windy Hill, and you won't have to see me again!"

"Well perhaps that might be for the best!" His voice cracked slightly on the words as he glared at her. "Five years, five years without so much as a letter or a phone call to let me know that you were safe and well and now you expect me to listen to tales of your wonderful new life practicing as a vet with Peter bloody Purvis! And not so much as a heads-up from him either! Was it he who told you to come back here? Did he finally persuade you to face me?"

"No," she replied, taking a breath. "I came back because I knew that my father wasn't well, and I wanted to make sure he was all right. Besides…Peter died two months ago."

He paused and stared at her. "Peter…Peter's dead?"

"Yes. He took ill just after Christmas and…well…"

"Well, why didn't he tell me? Why didn't he contact me? Why didn't you?"

"He was very private about it. He didn't want anyone to know, though I suggested that he tell you…"

"You clearly didn't suggest it very hard! But then, why would you, given that you've gone out of your way to avoid me yourself all these years?!"

"And what about you?" She bit back. "You stand there and lay everything at my feet, but never once look to yourself!"

"I didn't do anything except love you and care for you! You were the one who decided to leave me!"

"And you were the one who chose not to follow me!"

"You were the one who told me not to!"

"I…" she paused and stared at him, at the anger and hurt etched into every part of his expression. "I don't…"

"Well, not you of course because you'd gone," he said contemptuously. "You left your father to do your dirty work for you! How do you think I felt, Lily, standing there in front of him, telling him I would go to the ends of the earth with you if you wanted, begging him to tell me where you had gone, promising him that I would always love and take care of you and for him to…to throw your ring back in my face and tell me that you never wanted to see me again…!" To her horror, tears sprang into his eyes. "I told you…I told you after your accident that a heart could only take so much bruising and that I wouldn't be able to come after you again and yet…there I was…only to find you had closed off every door to me!"

She found herself incapable of speech, incapable of moving, barely capable of breathing as the meaning of his words infiltrated into her brain.

"So, I did as you asked. I respected your wishes, and I let you go, and I have spent the last five years trying to forget you, trying to build a life without you and now…you're back, permeating my very existence at every turn! Mrs Hall, Tristan, even Helen bloody Alderson! And…and looking at you now…" He shook his head and stepped back, almost as though he didn't trust himself. "I can't…I…I can't…"

Her voice barely seemed capable of carrying his name, "Siegfried…"

"No, I can't do it. I won't do it! Before I met you, I had carved an existence for myself without Evelyn, an existence I was comfortable with and then you burst upon me and…and I let you into my life, my home, my heart, even my bed, God forgive me, and then you shattered…everything! Just when we needed one another the most!" The tears spilled from his eyes. "I am on an even keel right now, Lily. The practice is operating well, Tristan is succeeding, James is a wonderful addition…I wish you well, but I have no capacity for you, no capacity for this, I'm sorry."

Before she could think of how to respond, he turned and strode away from her, lost to her sight within mere moments. The whole encounter had lasted but a few minutes and yet it felt as though everything she had known, everything that she had carefully crafted for herself over those last five years had been shattered with one singular outburst. The anger, the pain, the constant wonderment of why he had never tried to find her…it had clearly all been so horribly misplaced.

Misplaced because one man, the man who had always been ultimately in charge of her life and her happiness and who had balked at relinquishing control of that, had made it so.

Her father.

XXXX

He could barely breathe.

Having looked upon her, having heard her voice again…he found himself right back to where he had been five years earlier making his way back to Skeldale House after his fruitless flight to Windy Hill. Lost, angst-ridden, heartbroken…

He saw nothing of other people in the streets and square before him. All he could focus on was getting home, getting back to his sanctuary and not having to think about anything or anyone, least of all her. Dear God, it had been such a terrible mistake to think that he could have seen her, been in her company and returned the same man he had been.

Banging the door loudly, causing the two bewildered women sat in the foyer to jump, he ploughed his way through to the living room and approached the liquor cabinet with a fervour he hadn't felt in years. Yanking the stopper from the decanter he poured himself a generous measure, drained it and then poured another.

"Good 'eavens!" Mrs Hall exclaimed, coming into the room behind him. "I thought the 'ounds of 'ell 'ad descended upon us! Are you all right?"

"Do I look all right?!"

"Well, if you want an 'onest answer, no you don't."

"There you are then." He drained the glass and started to pour another, only for her to put her hand over the rim, blocking his progress. "Mrs Hall…"

"It won't 'elp."

"And how do you know that? I take the view it will help immensely." He held her gaze, aware that she was expecting him to break first, only for her to finally remove herself as an obstacle. "Thank you." He filled the glass and then walked over to the window, sipping it carefully. "She looked exactly the same, but yet different."

"Five years is a long time in anyone's life. People change."

"Yes, indeed."

"Did you get the opportunity to talk?"

"In a sense. Do you know what she told me? She told me that she's been living with Peter Purvis for the last few years, working as his assistant in his practice!"

"What, as a vet?"

"Indeed. Can you believe it?" he laughed and found himself unsure whether it was a laugh of pride or ridicule. "I always knew she was capable. I suppose I just assumed that…well… she would demonstrate that capability here." He paused. "She also told me that Peter died two months ago."

"Oh no, and 'e were such a lovely man too."

"Yes." He looked down into his glass. "Though he too betrayed me, having her there with him all that time and taking no action to inform me of it."

"Well, you don't know what Lily might 'ave told 'im about 'ow you'd left things."

"No doubt she said I had refused to leave Darrowby with her and left out the part about her instructing her father to make sure I didn't follow her." He drained his glass, bitterly tasting every last drop of the alcohol. "She didn't even deny it. She just stood there…" he broke off at the sound of knocking at the front door. "Another patient, I assume. How is Tristan getting on?"

"Well, you were only away ten minutes, so 'e's barely had a chance to get going. But 'e seems to be managing fine. Why don't you sit down and gather yourself. I'll get the door."

"Thank you, Mrs Hall," he replied, grateful for her understanding. She was perhaps the only woman in his life who had never let him down in one way or another. Perhaps life would be easier if they just grew old in the house together, employer and employee…friends. What more did he really need?

Sinking down into the armchair, he put his head back and closed his eyes. Lily had come back into his life so quickly and she could leave again with just as much speed, he was sure of that. It may take some time, but he would be able to return to the state he once was.

"Mr Farnon…"

"Yes?" Opening his eyes, he looked across to see the object of all his pain and anger standing just inside the living room door, Mrs Hall behind and he felt his chest tighten. "No."

"Siegfried…"

"No!" he said again, the very sound of his name on her lips causing agony deep within him. "I said what I needed to say at the church so I would thank you to leave!"

"No," she replied, quietly but firmly. "Not until I've had my say. The say you denied me by running away."

"Well, that's rich coming from you," he glared at her. "I have a full list of patients this morning and I merely took time away to pay an ill-judged visit…"

"I saw Tristan on my way in. He appeared to be managing quite well. You can give me five minutes."

"Oh, can I now?"

"Please," she took a step towards him. "If you let me say what I want to say, then I'll leave, and you never have to see me again if you don't want to. I'll disappear and let you return to the life that means so much to you now."

Glancing over her shoulder, he met Mrs Hall's gaze, the other woman nodding firmly at him, and he felt himself relenting. "Fine, if I must. Mrs Hall, can you close the door please?" Once alone, he moved back over to the liquor cabinet. "Would you like a drink?"

"No," she replied, "thank you."

He poured himself another, potentially unwise, glass and then waved it at her. "Well, come on then. Say what you have to say and be done with it."

"Do you mind if I sit down?"

"If you must."

She lowered herself onto the couch and looked up at him. "That day at the crossroads, when I asked you to leave Darrowby with me, I was…upset, overwrought, ridden with guilt. The fact that my actions had not only resulted in my becoming pregnant but also losing the child…when I look back now, I realise that I probably wasn't thinking clearly and that what you said about our lives being here was right and rational. But I couldn't see that. All I could think about was how people were going to be talking about me even more than they already had been, how they were going to perceive me. The stupid little woman who lives with her father and thought she could be a vet…how the mighty fall."

"That was always in your head," he said, his voice softer than he had anticipated.

"Maybe, but when I got back home and told my father I wanted to leave…in that moment, it felt like the right thing to do. It was never meant to be forever and…I never wanted to do it on my own."

Putting the glass down on the sideboard, he moved over to the armchair. "I don't understand."

"I wanted to be with you Siegfried, and nothing about our conversation that afternoon changed that. But I also knew that it had to be your decision."

"My decision?"

She nodded. "I asked my father to take me for the train to Bexley. I gave him my ring, the ring you gave me, and I told him…" her voice faltered slightly. "I told him that if you came after me, that he should tell you where I'd gone and then it would be up to you whether or not you wanted to follow."

He sat down quickly in the chair, feeling the breath torn from his body.

"Perhaps a part of me knew you wouldn't come for me, especially after what you had said before, but I suppose I hoped that you would. And then when you didn't…" she shrugged, "I had to make a new life for myself. I stayed in Bexley for a while and then, like I said, made my way to London. I worked in service for a while until I met Peter quite randomly one day and he offered me board and lodgings in return for working as his assistant. He said he remembered so much about his time here and admired what you had tried to help me to achieve." She smiled gently. "He was a good man, a kind man. He listened when I told him what had happened and, well, never asked anything of me."

"But did you never…" his brain fought for lucidity, "did you never think to call or…or write…?"

"In my mind, you'd made your choice. You didn't want to know where I was or try to find me. It did cross my mind a few times to come home but…I suppose I still worried what people might think of me and, as the years went on, and you didn't come…I just assumed you had moved on with your life." She met his gaze. "I had no idea, until you told me, that my father had said to you what he did."

He looked at her, seeing nothing but truth, honesty and openness in her expression and, in that moment, realised that they had both been fooled, mis-informed and hurt by the same person, realised that that person had regained the control he thought he had lost and had orchestrated five years' worth of unhappiness.

"My God…" he breathed, getting to his feet. "Your father…all this time…"

"Yes, and in the time it took me to walk here from the churchyard I've tried to convince myself that there was a reason, a good reason for him doing what he did…but I can't because there isn't. He never wanted me to be happy, never wanted me to have a life of my own away from him. He saw his chance and he took it." She shook her head sadly. "And here I am, back once again to care for his needs."

His heart thudded painfully, "We could have been together. We could have been married, had children…you could have been mistress of this house and a vet to boot and all because…" he felt tears fill his eyes again, angry as before, but not with her. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"It's no more your fault than it is mine," she replied. "There are a million things we could and should have done differently. If I'd never gone out to George Sharp's farm that night…if we'd never lain together…" His groin contracted as she spoke of the memory. "I suppose this was how it was meant to be."

"No," he shook his head, "no I won't accept that! This was how your father wanted it to be, no-one else. Not God, not a higher power, nobody but him!" He started to pace in front of her. "By God, I could kill him!

She rose to join him. "Please, don't say that. If there's one thing I should have realised long ago it's that he's not worth it. He's a sad old man who, ultimately, is going to end up all alone."

He turned quickly to face her. "Then…you're not staying?"

"Well…"

"Lily…" he moved towards her, poised to touch her and yet too afraid to. "You can't just…return to my life like this, tell me all this and then leave again. I…I won't let you."

She smiled softly. "I thought you had no capacity for me."

"I…" his eyes roamed her face and all he wanted to do in that moment was hold her and kiss her and for everything to return to as it once was. But so much time had passed. She was different. He was different.

"Besides, I have some decisions to make, rather large ones." Reaching into her handbag, she pulled out a thick envelope. "After Peter died, I received this letter from his solicitors. He's left me his practice."

"What?" Taking the envelope from her, he pulled out the paper and quickly scanned the words contained within. "He's left you everything."

"He never said a word to me about it before he died. It's a large practice but, of course, I'm not qualified so, even if I wanted to, I couldn't run it myself." She paused and met his gaze. "Ever since he died, I've been asking myself over and over what the best course of action is. Perhaps…perhaps that's even part of why I came back here. To help me make up my mind."

He felt speechless, so many thoughts, wants and wishes running around in his brain that he wasn't sure which one might come first. The answer, on one hand, seemed so simple and yet…there were so many other complications, so many other factors, and people, to consider. He took a breath, "I think…"

"Mr Farnon!" the door of the living room burst open, and Mrs Hall appeared. "I'm sorry to interrupt but that were George Sharp on the phone. He's had four sheep attacked by a dog and they're in a bad way. Tristan's tied up in the surgery and James is away out on his rounds…"

"It's fine, Mrs Hall, I shall go," he declared, pushing from his mind the very irony of who should be in need of his assistance at such a time. "And I shall take my lovely assistant with me."

Lily stared at him. "Me, but…"

"Yes, you." He raised his eyebrows at her. "Time you showed me exactly what you've learned over the last five years."