Disclaimer: I do not own Secret Garden or any of the characters besides Matilda Sowerby.

Chapter 1 : Return to Misselthwaite

Mary had been away for quite some time. It seemed like an eternity ago that she had gone away to finishing school. But Mr. Craven had insisted that she receive a proper education and be raised into a real lady. For 7 years there would be no more scampering about in a garden for her. No mucking about in dirt or planting seeds to bring to life. For 7 years she would learn to pour tea properly, and walk and talk as a lady.

She could not help but feel that she was being brought up to be sold off to the highest bidding man.

As time went on, a deep longing grew in her heart for her dearest friends. Colin had been sent off to a boarding school to learn so that he might eventually choose a profession. Dickon had remained on the moors to tend the gardens at Misselthwaite.

As the coach drew along the road to the manor, Mary's excitement grew. She the first time in so very long she would be reunited with her cousin and friend.

The coach came to a halt before the grand building and it took a moment for Mary to recognize the man as her dear cousin Colin. He had aged so handsomely. At 19 he was quite a sight to be seen. His flaxen hair fell loosely about a well-chiseled face. His mouth was set in a grin and his eyes were full of laughter. She could scarcely believe he had gone from being terribly obnoxious and weaselly to handsome and bold.

She could not spot Dickon, but she had no doubt that he was lurking about somewhere. Perhaps even in their garden.

Colin rushed forward to offer Mary his hand as she descended from the carriage. She took it gently and emerged at last. Her blond hair had grown frightfully long and had started to become rather red. She was clad in a long, pale blue silk dress with short sleeves. Her blue-grey eyes sparkled and danced cheerfully.

"Colin!" She exclaimed, "It has been far too long. And where is Dickon hiding?" Passing by her question, Colin was quick to respond.

"Mary, my dearest cousin. We have not seen each other in a terribly long time. Let us not fret over mundane things such trifles as the whereabouts of Dickon." This response did not please the impertinent lady and she responded curtly.

"Dickon is not a trifle. Now where is our dear friend?" Colin seemed hesitant to give her a straight answer, but with enough persuasion he finally admitted it. Dickon had gone to war and had not yet returned. Not only that, but they had not heard from him for a few years now. There was little hope of his return.

Misselthwaite seemed huge and empty without the smiling face of Dickon about. And Mary couldn't bring herself to enter the garden for fear of being bombarded with memories of him. The cold sadness in her heart was almost too much to bear.

"Tha canna worry too deeply 'bout it, Miss Mary," said Martha one frigid afternoon, "Dickon is a good lad. He'll come 'ome." But Mary could not help but worry. There had still been no news from him and although the war was over, he had still not returned. Colin did his utmost to entertain her, but Mary would not be satisfied. Misselthwaite just did not feel right without him.