Disclaimer:  Nothing has changed, I still don’t own anything. Not the characters, not the original plot, just this story.

Sorry it took me so long to get another chapter up. I thought I would have time before, but schoolwork caught up with me. And the writer’s block didn’t help. I know where I’m going with the rest of the story though, but I will probably only be able to update on weekends. Tell me what you think of this chapter please! And thanks to my reviewers for the previous chapters. *Big grin* On to the chapter!

Fireside Mayhem

She didn’t have much time to let her new found knowledge sink in.

“Stop! Stop!” The door had swung open with a bang to reveal Lord Craven standing in its frame, wildly mad. His face was drawn out in horror, his eyes wide, and his skin ghostly pale. The hand that held open the door shook slightly against the wood. Dickon appeared genuinely frightened and brought the flute down from his lips to rest in his lap. For a few seconds there was silence in the room with only the light hiss and crackling of the fire to ease everyone’s minds. Mary glanced anxiously at Colin and Martha as Craven took a deep breath and began to speak. His voice was strained and quiet now, it seemed to Mary as if he was trying to keep his temper leashed. “Dickon, my boy,” he began, taking another breath, “Where did you learn that song?”

“I don’ know sir.” Dickon forced himself to bring his gaze from the floor “I jus’ started playing it.” He hoped that answer was good enough, because he had no other to give.

“Find a new song to play than, please.” Mary noted that there were tears forming in his moist eyes now, and his voice was somewhat trembling. “I will not have that song heard in my house. Do you hear me?” The sudden jump from quiet to loud that the last statement made had everyone a bit taken aback.

“Yes-yessir.”

Craven then turned away from them and walked out, letting the door slam loudly behind him. They all listened in shock as the sound of his footsteps died away into the depths of the corridor. Dickon slowly reached for his flute and held it in his hands gingerly before pocketing it. Martha brought her cup of hot chocolate up to her mouth and sipped it slowly, letting each drop trickle down her throat slowly to calm her nerves. No one knew quite what to say. Lord Craven never was so angry these days, not since before Mary’s arrival had Martha seen him so worked up.  

“He said for Dickon to stop playing the song, not for everyone to keep quiet,” ventured Mary. She was the most outspoken of the four, and she wasn’t about to let her uncle’s anger keep everyone mute. “I do wonder what he was so shaken about though. Come Dickon, pull out your flute again. Let’s hear something different.” She wasn’t going to let them see just how shaken she was over the whole thing.

            “I don’ know Mary. I think it’s best I don’ play anymore tonight.”

            Mary sighed audibly and pushed herself to her feet to walk over to stand by the hearth. She let her hands wander freely over the intricate carvings that bordered the fireplace as her fingers traced a vine that dominated the pattern. “You know,” she began, “I believe I have heard that song before.”

            “ ’Ave you then? Where?” Came Martha’s voice timidly.

            “Sometime ago,” she said carefully. “I can’t quite place it. But I’ve heard it, that’s for sure.” She turned to Dickon and smiled. “It really is beautiful though Dickon, you play it wonderfully. I can’t imagine why Uncle could be so upset with it. I do wish he’d be less vague.” She continued to trace the vine on the fireplace and watch the flames jump energetically around the charred logs. She thought she heard Dickon answer her, but she couldn’t be sure. Was it Martha’s voice speaking now? Mary couldn’t make herself concentrate on what she was hearing. She felt her eyelids begin to flutter closed as her hand felt a chip in the wood before she sunk to the floor.

            She was in the garden, only spring had come and the bright sun shone high overhead making everything glow beautifully in the golden light. Everything was lush and green as it had been every spring since Mary had reawakened the garden. She could hear voices and happy laughter coming from the center of the garden, and she made her way lazily across the dirt path under the shade to where she knew she would find the presence of people.

            The voices got louder and clearer and she could hear a man and a woman speaking gaily. She didn’t know the woman’s voice, but she recognized the man’s as her uncle. Mary crouched down behind a bunch of bushes, and, reaching out a hand, pulled several branched aside so she could peer through and observe the couple. Know she knew the woman, it was her aunt. She was so beautiful here, among the flowers that she loved and cared for. She looked like the belonged there, a most rare flower among her roses and flowering trees. She was sitting daintily on the swing with her husband behind her, gently rocking the swing back and forth to the rhythm of a song they were singing. After sometime their song died down the woman giggled in delight at their happiness.

            “I have something for you, my dear,” Mr. Craven said. He reached down into his coat pocket and pulled something out with care.

            “Oh, a gift? How lovely.” The woman accepted the tiny package and gently pulled on the string that held brown paper around it. She let out a long sigh as she saw the beautiful music box that was now in her hands. She lifted the lid with care and smiled the most beautiful smile Mary had ever seen as a charming melody floated over the garden.

            “She shouln’ ‘ave been standing so close to the fire.” Mary was extremely groggy, but she could make out Martha’s muffled concerns through the heavy draperies that hung from the canopy of her bed. Mary sat up on her elbows and stretched her neck out curiously to hear better. “The poor thing ‘ad too much heat, thas all Mr. Craven.”

            Mr. Craven sounded just as worried and almost regretful. “I shouldn’t have frightened the child so.”

            Mary could almost hear the smile in Martha’s voice as she responded. “She is neither a child nor frightened, sir. She’ll be all right. Go get some rest sir, by mornin’ the little lady will be up an’ about, I’m sure of it.” They moved towards the door and Mary heard her uncle thank Martha and then walk off. Soon the curtains of her bed opened and Martha’s bright face peered in at her. “Ah, I thought you were awake. ‘Ad a bit of a heat spell, didn’t we?” She tugged on the curtains some to open them more and went to get a glass of water that was set on a table across from Mary’s bed. “ ‘Ere now, drink this. It’s jus’ some water, but it’s nice an’ cool an’ you’ll feel much better after drinkin’ it.”

            Mary took the glass readily and began drinking. “What happened Martha?”

            “Nothin’ to get excited about Miss. Only you were too close to the fire and it made you a little dizzy an’ you fainted. Yer all right now. A little rest and some more water will do the trick.” She got a pitched of water form the table to refill Mary’s glass. “Of course, you did give us a bit of a scare. I let out a small scream, you see, that’s why yer uncle came runnin.’ Dickon wanted to stay an’ make sure you were okay, but I sent him home.”

            Mary nodded quietly. She was thinking about the dream she had. “Martha, I think I would like to rest some now.”

            “Of course Miss. I’ll be around in the mornin’ for yeh.”

           

            So what did you think? Do you like it at all? Next chapter coming soon.