Story mainly based on the 2003 Peter Pan film and the 1993 Secret Garden version. I also give the twins of Neverland the names of the actors who portrayed them instead of just calling them First Twin and Second Twin, or Sooner and Later. Since they were adopted by George and Mary, I doubt they'd go nameless from there in London society.

-.-

Dedicated to the wonderful Rosa Cotton

-.-

The food selection is exquisite, I'll admit. The waltz is being played by a live string quartet in which my uncle personally hired himself. Various flowers plucked from our Garden gives a splash more color throughout the ballroom too, and the bright streams of light overhead reflect off the chandelier crystal teardrops like shooting stars.

All of the couples twirl together across the dance floor itself in perfect harmony and they become one great mass of pretty gowns, long tailed coats, and wide smiles of gratitude.

This is the eve of Colin's seventeenth birthday. And my uncle naturally wanted the occasion to mean something, even outside of the Manor gates. He surely intended to make this night the celebration of the year.

I linger beside the desserts and refreshments for a few more moments as I watch my cousin there, standing handsomely clean, golden-haired, and tall and proud on the grand staircase. He's conversing happily with a number of Uncle's fellow wealthy inverters from the inner cities, and my heart immediately warms at the sight, for I personally know how far he's come from growing out of that sickly shell he was once trapped in. A pair of glittery urban girls pass by him on their way down the steps and I catch both them giggling after Colin politely greets them.

I sneer at their flirtatious whims shortly before letting my eyes wander a bit to the left of the marble railings where I spot Martha motioning me over to join her. I nod back to inform her that I'd be right over as soon as I get a refill of the punch. Though when I do and I'm turning on my heel, my whole body suddenly clashes with another about the same shape and size as mine, and my full goblet drops and goes rolling past my feet. My breath hitches in my throat.

"Oh!" the (girl) cries out, sounding just as surprised as I must look. "Pardon me!"

"Are you alright, Miss Mary?" Dickon, with his dark thick hair slicked back for this one evening, is at my side at once, cupping his hand under my elbow to sturdy me.

I swallow, hoping to recover my composure quickly. Smoothing out my skirt with my free hand, I glance down at the fabric, which is thankfully still dry and unspoiled by the spill. "...Yes, I think so," I assure him while he bends over and retrieves the fallen goblet for me, setting it aside. Soon we both refocus our curiosity upon the stranger.

The girl waiting here before us is indeed around our own age and height. Her following expression is sweet and apologetic, and the rest of her appearance is something that I grow subtly envious of. She has the sort of startling bird-blue eyes I have secretly fantasized of having my entire life and her hair fell in heavy beautiful light honey brown curls over her shoulders which didn't seem to frizz at all on the sides like mine usually does.

She happens to break the last grain of tension by curtseying partway and telling us, "My mother's name is Mary, too. She's over there with my aunt, my father, and my brothers...," she briefly points out her rather large, and lively family all gathered along the other side of the room before she finishes her own introduction, "But I'm Wendy. Wendy Moira Angela Darling."

All awkwardness is gone and I have an instant liking for this darling Wendy girl that replaces my initial humiliation. Her family name suited her ironically well. So in return, I offer her a pleased smile. "And I'm Mary Lennox, the niece of tonight's host, Lord Craven...and this is my dearest friend, Dickon. He's our animal charmer. And a skilled piper."

Wendy's face lit up with sheer delight at my last few words. "Like faerie pipes?"

Dickon simply shrugged modestly, amused. My own interest in Wendy leaped to new heights. "You...like hearing about faeries?"

"Oh, yes, I love stories about faerie magic and secret adventures! I am actually studying to become an adventure novelist for children."

"Then you'd love our Garden," I respond on some burning impulse. "It seems to be full of those things, secrets and—" however, I am briefly interrupted by a new voice.

"—Did someone say something about adventures?"

A boy emerges from the crowd from behind Wendy and cuts off our exchange, although frankly, he doesn't seem so remorseful about it.

Once he's in full her reach, he leans in quick and steals a small kiss from the righthand corner of Wendy's mouth as if each and every kiss is (and always has been) there only for him. I don't know what it is about him exactly...but there's something faintly mysterious about him. I just can't name it. Perhaps it's because he holds this very confident air about him, much like Colin's...except not even Colin can flaunt such a smirk like that. It's certainly clear enough to see that this boy is not, per se, normal. His sandy blonde hair is kept somewhat wild and untidy instead of it being cut and combed back; he seems to prefer it looking like that. And even though he is actually wearing a stylish tailored suit more similar to Colin's than Dickon's simpler summer vest, he still doesn't bother to fix his tie. It just hangs like a dead snake over the back of his neck and he leaves the top button of his undershirt unhooked. Overall, I'm getting the set impression that he must be a real rebel at heart, because a past filled with nothing but youthful games and hidden excitement shines right through those glistening green of his eyes.

"I was wondering what was talking you, Wendy," he adds jokingly. "I didn't think simply tasting the punch wouldn't be such a daunting task."

"I'm sorry, Peter." Wendy welcomes him openly, taking a hold of his arm and angling him towards us for a better look. "I was just getting to know these two. This is Mary Lennox, and Dickon the Animal Charmer. Mary, Dickon...this is Peter Littlebird, my intended fiancé. He became my neighbor a few years ago when his adoptive parents moved into the house at Number 15 from another land."

I say my hello first, Peter tips his head before Dickon throws in, "Another land, ye said? Miss Mary was born in India herself. Where are ye from?"

Peter Littlebird just smiled wider back at Dickon. And that smile is cocky. Puckish. "Ah, it's a land you probably never heard of."

"Peter," Wendy states again, "they were about to tell me something about a garden."

"Kensington Gardens?"

"No, Peter, their garden, a secret garden. It's supposed to be magical," she informs him, apparently knowing precisely what to say to persuade him.

Peter turns his head my way one more, a bit more intrigued, "Let's see it, then."

Dickon and I share a glance of consent and we both nod at Peter and Wendy. "We'll show you. Just don't tell too many people though, or the magic might fade."

"Can my brothers come too?" Wendy countered hopefully.

"Wendy...," Peter groaned, rolling his eyes. "Let's just go and see it."

"They'd love it, Peter, you know they would! Besides, you and I hardly include them in much of anything we do together these days."

Peter either sighs in submission, or mild guilt, and he whispers to us, "Alright. Leave that to me."

Now he begins to turn away.

"Dickon, you and Wendy should wait for them by the servant doors," I decide suddenly, "I'll try to get Colin's attention and see if he wants to come along."

Without grievance, Dickon obeys my request and slips behind the banquet tables, aiming for the vacant side doors; a certain speed and slyness is in his footsteps, (which I'm sure he's learned from running with the deer over the moors) as he goes virtually unnoticed. Wendy follows him easily and I can guess that she also has some practice of treading lightly past a group of ignorant adults. I grin at the thought as I scope the room for my cousin. Doing so, I manage to spot Peter first though. He's in the process of sneaking up on one of Wendy's younger family members—a thin boy with sleek black hair and a slightly pointy face, sitting right next to their elderly aunt. Peter whispers in his ear, causing the boy to incline his head closer and he eagerly slips away as soon as Peter backtracks from him. And I'm captivated by the following result...the whispering then travels shrewdly from boy to boy, brother to brother until they all duck, whirl, and sidestep out of their parents' sights, like little thieves stealing away into the night, uncaught. They go line up near their older sister and Dickon who finally guides them outside.

I eventually locate Colin and tug on his sleeve, letting him know that I wish to speak with him privately.

Dickon is still waiting by the Garden's entrance as I approach him alone. "Where's Colin?" he asks.

"He wanted to stay and discuss career opportunities with Uncle's businessmen for a while longer. He'll come when he can."

Dickon looks conflicted for an instant, as if he's wanting about to say something about it, but the sound of tongue-rolling howls and loud laughter erupts from beyond the great green-vined coated walls, overpowering his chance.

I ignore it and just move forward, encouraging Dickon along.

Once we descend the wide earthy staircase trimmed with long thin grasses, we soon find the Darling children already rejoicing in the Garden's wonders. Meanwhile Soot soars out from the surrounding darkness and settles onto Dickon's broad shoulder temporarily. I reach up to offer his feathers a caring stroke as I murmur, "Hello again, handsome bird."

Soot caws quietly in response, seeming pleased with my greeting, which makes Dickon smirk back at me and my stomach fills with heat which spreads instantly to my cheeks.

I quirkily turn away before my embarrassment is too obvious to him and my gaze resets on one of the Darlings—he's all yellow curls, freckles and crooked teeth—standing high upon the stone base of our Kore statue and does an impressive backflip off it.

"That's Curly," Dickon informs me after he walks up to my side once more. Then he tilts his chin to the pair of look-alike boys playing with the white hares hopping about across the path. "And those are the twins. They said that their Mother Darling calls them Patrick and Lachlan. Those boys there...climbing the vines are Wendy's brothers by blood, John and Michael. The last ones o'er there near the blossom pond go by Slightly, Tootles and Nibs. They evidently hope to be lawyers some day."

Wendy, who is closest to us, wanders towards me with purple flowers entwined into her hair and her doll-delicate facial features are highlighted perfectly half and half, by the shadows and the glow of the lanterns. "Your family upkeeps a wonderful garden, Mary."

"The moors had a lot of rain lately. It helps the flowers grow."

That's when I hear Peter scoff. "Silly girl, faeries are the ones that help things grow."

He's somewhere directly above us. I twist around until I finally catch a glimpse of him relining like a king among the branches of the old oak tree stretching over the Garden's fourth wall. "I wouldn't be up so high if I were you," I recommend sternly, "Those trees are not that strong. You could fall."

Wendy laughs now at me; it's not cruel sounding, but rather tender and indulging. "You don't have to worry about that, Mary," and she shoots her childhood sweetheart a knowing look, "Peter's too clever to fall."

I cannot help it when I raise my brow at her, realizing that she's willing to feed Peter's ego without question. Peter himself snickers, reveling in Wendy's choice of words, and thoughtfully returns her favor with, "Aye, that's very true, Wendy Bird." Then he leaps from his perch. I watch somewhat puzzled as he lands effortlessly on his feet as though he has just floated back down to the pathway. "Come on, Dickon-lad, as promised, it's story time."

I glance at Dickon, who is just giving Soot the hand gesture leave again. "Story time?"

Dickon takes my hand with care and leads me after Peter and Wendy. "While you were still inside speakin' with Colin, they've all insisted on Wendy telling us a few of her famous stories, Miss Mary. The boys swear on their lives that she's a born for it. It'll be like sittin' in a real theater."

Noticing my attentive smile, Peter happily takes it as his cue to gather up the boys gone wild throughout the Secret Garden. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he releases the most thrilling and authentic rooster crow I have ever heard a boy make. It even rivaled Dickon's skilled birdcalls.

And on sheer instinct, all the boys cease their commotion nearby and dash forward like trained dogs who adore their master. "Wendy is about to tell you a story," recites Peter. They've obviously done this many times over before tonight. "You what to do."

Joy fills their eyes and their smiles are everlasting while they cheer and naturally form a semi-circle in front of Wendy, sitting smallest to tallest upon the fresh bed of moss. Dickon and I choose to sit beside Peter on the long log lying closely off to the side.

Wendy lifts her elegant party skirts and takes her position as our official narrator on the winding stairway, leading up to our wooden swing. But before she begins, she singles me out. "Didn't you mention there was another boy coming yet, Mary?"

I nod. "My cousin, Colin. He'll probably join us a little while. He wants to enjoy the party some more with his friends, that's all."

"Well, the night's young," says Peter, measuring the time we have left by how bright the stars are, "we can start one without him."

"Tell us the one about the bones from the Black Castle," Michael cries out suddenly.

"No, tell us about the time when Hook's hand gets cut off, Wendy!" Nibs shouts afterwards. "And Tick Tock swallowed it whole!"

"Tell us about Tiger Lily's first hunt!" John says.

"How about when the mermaids tried to drown Bill Dukes," Tootles sniggered.

"The Never Bird's nest!" Patrick and Lachlan claim in perfect unison.

"I like your Cinderella story," Slightly claims.

The list goes on, and I now can understand why Wendy would make a decent writer and public entertainer merely based on how many fairytales she already knows. I was brought up with a handful Indian folklore myself, which I have passed onto Colin and Dickon, although my collection of stories seems nowhere to be in the same rage as Wendy's.

I catch Wendy's affectionate gaze darting from brother to the next, waiting for them to release some more of their energy until she holds a hand up to silence them. "Mary, Dickon...do you have any preference?"

Dickon shakes his head unbiased, and just waits for my choosing first. The words slowly fall off my tongue, "...Well, why don't you tell us one they've never heard of?"

The boys stop, pondering amongst themselves. Wendy stares at me, but then, it's Peter who actually answers my question and he looks straight at Wendy, providing her some signal of approval. "She knows the perfect one to tell you."

The boys appear to grow just as intrigued after Wendy smiles again. She inhales and moves into the story with a gradual, dramatic pace...

"Once upon a time...there lived an orphan boy, who happened to be raised by a whole Faerie Reel. Pixies, to be exact, and although they are small in size, their magic should never be underestimated. They taught the orphan boy the secrets of the wilderness and they shared with him the true powers of their Pixie Dust. Soon, the boy could even fly on his own whenever he wished it and he was always happy to be around the Pixies. The Pixies also cherished him greatly in return. In fact, one special Pixie became the boy's dearest friend and they played many games together involving Cannibals, Natives, and ruthless pirates. But one day, when out traveling about London City...the boy grew careless just enough to lose his own shadow..."

Wendy's delightful imaginative tale continues with the boy meeting a young maiden his own age in a nursery room, were his shadow is hiding out all along. She tells us how the boy ends up taking the maiden and her two brothers to the Land of the Faeries, which would keep them young forever if they stayed.

The Darling boys are dead silent now as they listen, deeply engrossed by every word Wendy speaks.

Peter, to my right, says nothing more. Dickon, who's settled closer on my left, also appears so moved by Wendy's creativity that he refuses to look away.

I personally back turn to Wendy as she reaches the peak of the story, describing how the flying boy recuses the maiden and her brothers from the bloodthirsty pirates taking over the island, and they share a sweet kiss of first love, and he ultimately allows them to return home.

"...Afterwards, things in London City returned to normalcy and the maiden's family was overjoyed by their reunion. However, for being worlds apart, the maiden never forgot the boy and the boy himself ended up missing the maiden terribly some days, more than he had expected to. And it would be almost two full years before they saw each other again and live gladly side by side..."

Wendy concludes her tale altogether with an usual, strange ending though. It's not fully tragic, it's not all happy, it's just strange.

Apparently, the flying orphan boy misses the young maiden so much that one morning he does decide to give up his adventures in the Land of Faeries and go stay with her in London City for the rest of their days. That part is fairly understandable to me and sounds rather average for a young couple who fall in love by the end of a fairytale. But it's how he does it that is unlike anything I've ever heard in growing up in India as a child—

The boy thinks he has to trick London City into believing he's a just ordinary boy that comes to live near the maiden's house, so that way, magic won't be exposed in a bad light. Therefore he confronts the two Elder Faeries, the King and Queen, who naturally have the most power over the rest and they listen to the boy's request. After much consideration and an hearing, they finally agree to help him with his plan. They assign him two willing Pixie Guides who are already mated to each other but have no offspring of their own to pass as the boy's pretend mortal parents. Thus, the King and Queen cast a spell on the Pixie couple to make them average height whenever in the public eye and they are given mortal names before they move to London City officially. But the thing this, all Faerie magic comes with a price, one that could be either grand or small—for there is a greater balance to be maintained—and the boy is forced to make a magical contract with the King and Queen in return, promising that in the later future, his own firstborn child would always spend the six wintery months in the Land of Faeries and by Springtide, the child would return to him and their mother.

Wendy takes one more extra breath in and out. "The End."

The boys applaud her, and I notice Dickon is now staring, but not at me; his gaze holds steady on Peter.

"What is it?" I ask him privately, leaning in.

Dickon's questioning eyes shift to mine as soon as I speak and he just shakes his head, indicating that there's nothing for me to worry about.

Curly pulls himself to his feet and stretches out his back muscles, "Let's play a real game now, Peter."

The other brothers follow suit with Nibs shouting, "Yes, Peter, let's play Champions!" and they spontaneously mumble words of consent.

Peter opens his mouth to comply, but Colin's shout from outside comes through the crack. "Mary? Dickon, are you there?"

"That's Colin!" I say through a broadening smile, running past everyone to meet him at the gate.

When Colin sees me, we clasp our hands together and immediately race back down to the main clearing, suppressing our giddy laughter.

Colin gets ahead of me in the last moment. And like a drunken fool, my enthusiasm makes me miss the bottom step and I stumble forward. But before I hit the stone face first, Dickon is somehow right there to catch me. The Darling boys snigger at us as Dickon straightens me out. Clearing my throat, I find my voice again. "Everyone, this is Colin."

"'Ello, everyone," Colin says, waving at them. In turn, the rest list their own names off for him.

"I'm Peter. Peter Littlebird." Peter comes forward, smugly taking the lead of the group. "And you're just in time for a round of Champions, Colin."

With that, Slightly approaches Peter, handing him two seamlessly smooth straight fallen braches, both roughly the same length.

I gather they're substitutes for swords.

"Fighting sticks?" Colin surveys the branches with sudden skepticism. "Aren't we too old for childish games like that?"

Quick as lighting, Peter reacts to this by twirling one of the branches upwards and he points it right into Colin's chest. "You are never too old to have fun, my dear Colin. How else do you expect to enjoy your life later on at all?"

"Oh, Peter, he doesn't know any better," Wendy reasons, putting her fingertips over the branch, coaxing Peter to lower it. "Please give him a chance."

"Aw, it's alright, Wendy Bird. Perhaps he's just...afraid to fail."

That tone of Peter's is obviously a lure to tempt Colin and my cousin definitely bites the bait boldly.

Though I'm not so quick to do so. I'm unconvinced. "Colin has been given private fencing lessons, Peter. He's quite good."

"But, I've always been the best," Peter teases, wearing a witty smirk, "And to prove it to you, Miss Mary, I'll be your Champion. You'll see."

"Alright, Colin, you can be mine then if you'd like." Wendy complements Peter's decision while she unties the single blue ribbon from her hair and ties it tightly around his branch. And Colin appears a little taken aback by her actions and I swear that I can make out him blushing.

Peter, claiming himself as my Champion, doesn't ask to wear my colors however; he just climbs onto the platform with ease and waits for Colin to confront him.

Once both boys get into proper stance, and Wendy and I give them the sign to start together, Peter cries, "Have at thee!"

Their fencing match lasts a good three and half minutes I estimate, but as Peter has just confirmed, his skills are practically at an expert level, whereas Colin is not exactly there yet in his lessons.

Thus, it is my cousin who takes the first fall backwards and Peter proudly points the end of his branch at Colin's chin, declaring, "Victory is mine— and yours, Miss Mary!"

The boys cheer in praise using their own little variations of Peter's crow. I too, thank Peter, even though I was privately siding with my cousin the whole time.

"...Your ribbon, Milady," pants Colin as he returns to Wendy, holding out the strip of blue silk, and he swallows down more air. "I'm sorry."

Wendy politely pushes his fingers back towards his chest. "Please. Keep it as a token of my gratitude. Besides, I thought you fought quite well, considering how your opponent was Peter."

"Perhaps with more practice, you can beat him another time," I suggest then. Colin beams at me.

Peter creeps up on Wendy shortly afterwards. His arms playfully encircle her waist and he spins her around. Regardless of Peter's levels of vanity I've witness here tonight, I still admire the trust he and Wendy have—it's so apparent and so refreshing. Wendy looks at Peter like he's the best thing that has happened to her, and Peter glances back at her like he would never tire of her.

(I'm left thinking that I want to share that feeling with somebody someday. With Dickon in particular, I'm nearly there.)

Now all the Darling boys have their turn to fence.

"Wendy!" We all startle when a woman calls out for her daughter from the other side of the Garden wall. "Wendy-sweetheart! Boys! Are you out here?"

Wendy turns and gestures towards the group, obediently herding her brothers out. "That is our Mother Darling, boys. We must go."

"It is rather late," Dickon adds, "and there chores to be done in the morn."

Peter dramatically rolls his eyes. "...Chores? Right."

The younger ones burst out laughing.

On the outside we are greeted by the angelic woman that has to be their Mother Darling. She's another Wendy; same delicate features, same stunning light brown hair. Yet she's a tad taller than Wendy and slightly more wrinkled around the eyes, when her husband, Mister Darling, really just reminds me of a stricter version of my uncle. Their elderly aunt follows in toe.

Slightly goes to embrace her tightly with a fond smile.

"When we couldn't find you, the generous Lord Craven was positive that you younglings would be out here," Mother Darling tells Wendy, running her hands gently over her daughter's hair and cupping her pretty face. "Next time ask us, Wendy. Sneaking away was just a silly thing to do, love."

Peter steps forward. "It was my idea, lady. Besides, she's not hurt."

There's an odd flash of something left unsaid inside Mother Darling's eyes when she glances at Peter coming up close behind Wendy, and she sighs heavily and clears her throat. (But who am I to ask her what's wrong?)

"Well," Mister Darling adds graciously in his Wife's stead, "whatever the case, we are about to leave. And we need to get you back to your parents as well, Peter. I was responsible for you while you came here tonight."

Peter blinks at him and says nothing.

Honestly. If I didn't think he possessed a rude streak before, I certainly think he has one now. He doesn't even look at the man in the eye while the trio of adults start to turn back with the all the boys in counting happily orbiting around them.

After Wendy lingers behind long enough to wave goodbye to us, I can catch her muttering in Peter's ear as she loops her arm around his, following her family. "You must start calling your future mother-in-law something else than 'Lady', Peter. She doesn't even know why you act like this when she's around."

"I'll call her what I wish, and when I feel like it," Peter hisses softly in return.

While I make my way back towards the Manor along with Colin and Dickon on either side of me, Dickon breathes out deeply. "The Darlings cer'ainly know how to amuse themselves, do they not?"

I chuckle at this. "Most definitely. They'd keep on your toes day in and day out."

Colin allows his voice to grow doting and wistful when he joins in, "And Wendy's awfully pretty, isn't she, Dickon?"

Dickon merely shrugs; although I feel as if I have to verbally remind my cousin, "She's Peter's Wendy, Colin."

"So?"

Yes, Colin has matured beyond believing that he's destined to die young and he's incapable of living his own life, but his old spoiled nature still slips through every now and then.

"Well...," I sigh therefore, "I am sure that there were plenty of other girls at the party tonight who would love to see you again."

"I suppose," Colin agrees hopefully as we come within full view of the Manor's entrance, "Lady Catherine was enjoyable company too, come to think of it. She even said she'll wish to dance with me again another time soon." And, with that, Colin claps a hand on Dickon's shoulder and bids him goodnight then waits for me.

I flick my hand at him. "Go on," I reassure him, "I'll be along shortly."

Dickon watches me as I turn back towards him, drawing closer. He responds by taking my hand in his briefly and her squeezes something small and round against my palm.

Curious, I flatten out my fingers and inspect the acorn that Dickon has evidently decided to give me. I'm not quite sure what to make of it. I look up him, searching his face for answers.

"Peter noticed and said that I should give an acorn to you. It's supposed to be a promise. Accordin' to Wendy it works as a charm of good luck, too."

Beaming, I kiss his cheek, feeling heat rush to my cheeks again. "Sleep well, Dickon."

"And you, Miss Mary."

When I shut the doors behind me and kindly remind the maids to lock them up for the night, I hear a clear and resolute: "Mary."

Halting in my tracks, I poke my head around the corner to find my lord uncle having a cup of Earl Gray tea by himself at the communal dining table. "Yes, Uncle?"

"Please sit with me for a little while, wouldn't you?"

I nod straightaway, but my stride grows hesitant as I approach the chair on his righthand side. "Is everything...alright, Uncle?"

"I've come to realize, Mary, that...you are growing into a suitable young lady these days. You are hardly that child you once were when you came to us all those years ago. You look much more like your aunt and pretty mother at this age than you ever had before. And you, frankly, seem considerably happier."

My feel my eye lashes flutter against my will, although, I choose to remain silent in that following moment. My hands clench together in my lap. I merely wait for him to continue his thought after he takes a sip from his teacup.

He places it back on its matching china saucer, and finally states what is truly on his mind tonight, "Do you already have an interest in someone?"

"I—," I stumble for a reply, almost fearful of what he'll say if I am utterly honest with him, "—Why are you asking me this, Uncle? Why now?"

"I am only curious how well you have thought of your future, if any at all. It's not that uncommon for young lads and maidens your age to be married off by this time, or at least become engaged. I just want to know that you're taken care of since I am not going to be around forever, Mary."

I exhale. "I know that, Uncle."

"I can see it in your eyes, Mary," he confesses, "I can gather that Colin is not your leading choice."

"Uncle, I do love Colin dearly," I answer him sincerely. "You never have to doubt that."

"But you have been loving someone else too in a different way, perhaps—in a fiercer way? I can only assume it's Dickon. I am right? He's the only other boy around here you can tolerate and I know he would climb a mountain for you if your life depended on it."

It's pointless to hide from him it now. Letting go of every defense and façade, I look back up at him in mild defeat. "Yes. I...hold an interest in Dickon."

"And he holds the same interest in you?"

I smile meekly as I roll the acorn between my fingers, remembering its significance.

And my uncle may have noticed the shift in the friendship the three of us share, Dickon, Colin, and I; and obviously he's caught onto the shift occurring within me personally as well, but I doubt he actually knows everything else—otherwise I doubt he'd have me sit here with him and confirm my feelings aloud. Dickon and I have been careful thus far with what we do and where we do those certain things that lovers do. If stories have any truth to them at all...it's how passion strikes at any given moment and how a strong kind of love can surface between two people when it's least expected to. And I never planned on it happening, and I didn't essentially mean to let it go so far as it did two months ago when Dickon and I gave into our desires and we coupled along the grassy hillside, miles away from the Manor's view, but, we cannot change that now. That impulsive decision is already written into our souls.

So, I simply tell my uncle, "Of course."

"But do you know what this means for the two of you?" my uncles presses on again. "Do you realize you two may face some...obstacles based on your choice? Based on...his work?"

"I do."

I know what he means and it does not sway me. I can handle it, Dickon's status versus my own. Just for Dickon, I could handle it, it wouldn't matter either way. Uncle sees this, the determination building in my eyes.

And from there, he smiles at me, and that expression is full of unspoken acceptance and respect. "Then you may go."

"Thank you, Uncle," I say pushing myself upwards, mindful to not let my skirts wrapping around my knees to get caught on the wooden ridge beneath the table as I move. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, sweet Mary."

When I eventually retire to my quarters that night, dazed with exhaustion, but still feeling pleased about the new friends I've made, plus my uncle's good-natured consent about my so-called future, I fall into a long healthy slumber.

And I drift through dreams of Colin, Peter, Wendy grinning beside me in the Secret Garden, and of Dickon riding off into sunset on his white horse, his hand reaching down towards me just as his tall dark shadow touches the bright red light.