All of the servants were aware of the obsession the Baron had with time and planning, and although Lady Garvey had never had an ill word for her husband, it was clear she found his fixation amusing, if not a bit nettling.
“We should have the beds ready by this evening, my Lady,” William replied. “Then we can begin planting tomorrow.”
“Thank you, William, Thomas,” she said with a smile for each of them. “I will inform my husband immediately.” And with that, she turned and walked back to the house.
“Ya realize we’ll be working till sunset now,” Thomas said with a scowl, though his tone was not unkind. “I don’t think my ole back will keep up at this pace.”
“Don’t worry,” William said as he clapped the man on the back. “I’ll make sure it’s all finished in time.” He took great joy in planting and tending the flowers once they bloomed. The various colors of rich purples and reds were among his favorites.
The two men resumed their work, and an hour passed before they paused to take a break. Miss Garvey and her friends had already returned to the house, but this time William did not stop to look at them. He had promised Lady Garvey to have the beds ready by sunset, and William was a man of his word if nothing else.
Thomas grimaced in pain and grabbed his back.
“You need to rest,” William said. “Here, have a sit-down. If your back locks up and the Baron finds out, he won’t be none too pleased.”
“I don’t need no one telling me what to do,” Thomas said with a scowl.
William laughed, knowing the man was not truly angry with him.
“My back is nothing but muscle,” the old man said. “I’ll continue working, thank you very much.” When he pushed the hoe out, however, he cringed again.
“And your stubbornness is as hard as your muscles,” William said with a pat on the man’s back. “Please, if anything, let me catch up on my share of the work. For years now, I’ve allowed you the majority of it. It’s about time I do my part.” In all actuality, William did as much work as Thomas, if not more at times, but he knew the old man would never agree to rest unless William gave him the credit he was due.
As expected, the old man nodded, his hand scratching the stubble on his chin. “You are a lazy one,” he said, handing William the hoe. “Fine, I’ll sit back for a while. I suppose I’ve earned it after all.” He hobbled over to a large tree and lowered himself gingerly to the ground, placing his back against the trunk with a sigh.
With a smile, William returned to the work at hand, and soon the sounds of Thomas’s snores made William’s grin widen that much more.
***
Late the following morning, William planted a few flowers as Thomas pruned the limbs on one of the nearby hedges. It was always the same, William hunched over the well-turned ground while Thomas worked standing where the work was easier on his back. They went through the same argument every planting season since the first.
“I’m not an old man,” Thomas would snap. “I’ve been doing this work since before you took your first breath.”
“Yes, I’m aware of your experience,” William would reply calmly. “But both jobs need doing, and you are much better at pruning than I.”
Then Thomas would puff up his chest. “Well, that there is the truth. All right, we’ve got work to do.” And he would be off to gather the sheers needed to prune as William would shake his head after the man.
William stood and surveyed his progress. The first bed had been planted and he was now halfway through the second. Soon they would break for a bite to eat, but he supposed he had time to finish one more row before then.
“Ah, William, there you are!” Lord Garvey called out in a congenial tone that sounded odd coming from the man, at least when he was speaking to a servant. As William turned toward the man, the Baron smiled, making William cringe. That look was so strange it was frightening. It was not evil as such, but William doubted he had ever seen a smile on the Baron’s face in the four years he knew him despite the man’s tone toward his family and friends. However, it was not as if William was inside fraternizing with the man or his equals, so perhaps it was more common than William realized.
However, it was not the smile Lord Garvey wore that held William’s curiosity. Beside him stood a man with silver hair and dapper dress in his dark tailcoats and perfectly tied cravat. The man did not have the look of the ton, but he did appear someone important.
“My Lord,” William said as he gave a deep, nervous bow and clutched his hat in both hands, “I’m doing my best to hurry the work along. But don’t worry none; the flowers will be planted by the end of the day and in no time you’ll have your garden in full bloom just as you like it.”
“Nonsense, my boy,” the Baron said, which caught William off-guard. “The flowers can be planted later. And by someone else.” He clapped William on the back as if they were old friends who had not seen each other in a long while, which only made William cringe all the more. What was the man up to? Sometimes these people of the higher class could be strange. “This is Mr. Charles Ludlow, and he has some wonderful news for you.”
William gave the man a deeper bow than he had given Lord Garvey. “Mr. Ludlow.”
The man looked him up and down, much like one looking at a horse to purchase, as if sizing him up. “Good day to you,” he said in a formal tone William had never heard used toward him. Then the man looked at Lord Garvey. “Is there a place where I might speak with him in private?”
“Of course,” the Baron replied in a fawning tone. He had yet to remove his hand from William’s shoulder, which William thought even stranger than all he had witnessed thus far. Lord Garvey was never one to dirty his hands, even if it was done by simply touching one of the servants. “Right this way.”
Confusion ran through William as Lord Garvey led him and Mr. Ludlow to the house. What would this man want with William? Then fear struck him; he knew what this man wanted. So, it had finally caught up to him. The offense was not a hangable one, but it would send him away to prison for several years. He would lose his position here at Millweed Manor, of that he was certain, and that was the worst that could happen to him.
They moved through the house and entered the parlor, a room William had never been in before. Not that he had many opportunities to be inside the house, of course, for the room to which he had been assigned was located at the back of a small building where supplies for the gardens were kept. He shared the space with Thomas, and not a day went by that he was not thankful for the small bed and the few pegs on the wall where he hung the scant number of clothes he owned.
“Margaret,” the Baron snapped at his daughter, who sat with the same friends who had been present the day before in the garden, embroidery hoops in hand, “you and your friends must leave. William needs this room.”
Margaret rose, her eyes flames as they glared at William. “The gardener?” she gasped. “You wish me to abandon this room…” she stared at him in disgust, “for him?”
William made no comment or reaction; he was accustomed to such treatment from those of the classes above him and did not expect it to change anytime soon. This did not mean the words did not sting, but what could he do? The streets were not a friendly place to live for anyone of any station, but certainly much less friendly than Millweed Manor.
“I said leave! Now!” her father shouted.
Margaret clicked her tongue. “Come along, ladies. We can continue our work in the study, although the lighting will not be as bright there.” And with a swish of their skirts and a snub of their already upturned noses, they left the room.
The Baron smiled at William. “Please, Son, sit where you please. Might I suggest this chair?” He walked up to a leather wing chair beside the now empty fireplace. “This is my personal seat.” Before William could move, a maid entered burdened with a tray. “Ah, our tea,” Lord Garvey said. “Let me pour.” He shooed away the maid and poured tea for all three men, William almost forgetting to keep his mouth clo
sed. “Come now, have a seat. I am sure you are more than ready to rest after so many hours in the garden. I imagine it is difficult work, but you perform it so well.”
The wide smile the man gave William as he sat in the chair the Baron had indicated made William tremble. The manner in which Lord Garvey treated him indicated he was in grave trouble indeed. When the Baron handed him the teacup and saucer, William held both as if they would shatter if he did no more than look at them. The tea sloshed around in the cup, and William set the saucer on the arm of the chair to keep it from spilling over. When he looked up, Lord Garvey sat only with his teacup in his fingers and the saucer on the table, so William took the man’s lead and placed his saucer on the table. The tea was the best he had ever tasted.
“Now, where shall we begin?” Lord Garvey asked as he looked at Mr. Ludlow.
Mr. Ludlow gave the Baron a pointed look. “I would like to speak with Mr. Hawkins alone, if you do not mind. You understand, of course.”
William expected the man to bluster about how the house belonged to him and that he could not be chased from any room within it; however, instead, he replied, “Oh, yes. Well, of course. I have business elsewhere, anyway. If you need anything, please, simply ask.” Then he shocked William further by giving him a hurried bow—a bow to his gardener!—and he left the room.
All William could do was stare at the now closed door in awe before Mr. Ludlow cleared his throat and removed several papers from a case he had set on the floor beside his chair.
“Mr. Hawkins,” the man began, his voice deep but quiet, “tell me about your life.”
William stared at the man. His life? What was there to tell? “What do you want to know?” he asked. “There’s not a whole lot.”
“Your parents, you, how did you come to work here? Those types of things.”
Mimicking Mr. Ludlow was not an easy task; it was awkward holding the tiny cup with two fingers, but William did his best. More than once the liquid dripped down the side, and when he almost dropped the delicate porcelain, he gave up the pretense and set the cup on the table.
“Well, my mother died giving birth to me,” William said as he sat up straight on the edge of the chair. He was too afraid to sit back in it lest he leave a stain. It was bad enough his dirty garments were touching the leather at all. “When I was eight, my father, who worked in the mines, died during a cave-in.” He blinked back tears. He had not thought of his father in years, and it was difficult to speak of him even so many years later. “So, you see, I’m an orphan, and…” He could take it no longer; he had to confess to his wrongdoing. “Well, I know why you’re here, sir.”
“Do you?” the man asked with eyebrows raised high.
“Yes, of course.” William looked down at his dirty hands, shame coursing through his body. “You see, I was hungry, so hungry, and the apple looked so tempting that I couldn’t resist.” He looked up and gave Mr. Ludlow a beseeching look. “But I’ve saved all of the money I’ve made since I got this position, and I’ll repay the merchant—with interest—if it keeps me from prison.”
The man studied him for a moment and then chuckled. “This has nothing to do with fruit, Mr. Hawkins.” He sat back in the chair and seemed to study William. “So, you are an orphan who found employment here. That is the story of your life?”
“It’s not much of a story, I know, but it’s the truth. I’ve worked at other places before I came here, but those didn’t last all that long. I was young and the shops that allowed me to sweep floors or wash windows didn’t much like a boy who had no place to take a decent bath in their fine establishments. I think the only reason they let me do some of the jobs was because they took pity on me.” He knew his face had to be a bright red, for his cheeks felt on fire. Taking charity had never been something he enjoyed, but sometimes one had to do so if he meant to survive.
Mr. Ludlow sipped at his tea, still studying William. This, of course, only made William wiggle in his seat. Would the man not get on with it? “So, I’m not in trouble?” he asked in some sort of attempt to move the conversation along. William had work to do.
“Far from it,” Mr. Ludlow replied. The man rose and walked over to one of the windows. “Do you mind if I share a story with you?”
“Not at all, sir,” William said. “I like to hear about other people’s lives. I find it all so fascinating.”
The man nodded. “Many years ago, a man of great wealth, a duke in all actuality, had an argument with his son. You see, the son wished to marry a woman of common stock, which displeased his father greatly. However, the son loved the woman so much, he would not relent and finally walked away from both title and wealth.”
William scratched his head. “He really loved that woman, then?”
Mr. Ludlow turned from the window. “He did. Therefore, they were wed and vowed never to return to that life. The older man, having only the one son and who had lost his wife many years before, decided to remain alone. His wealth grew, and when he passed away a year ago, there was no one to take the title.”
William drank the last of his tea in an attempt to cover his wonderment as to why this man was sharing this story with him. Then it dawned on him and he felt a surge of pride rush through him. “I understand. This man’s estate needs a gardener, and you have heard about the work I have done here.” He jumped up, excited. “As you can see, I do have reason to brag.” He could see it now, head gardener at an estate as grand as Millweed. No, grander! Thomas would be so proud!
“No,” Mr. Ludlow said with a light chuckle. “I do not need you to attend to the gardens.”
“Then I don’t understand, Mr. Ludlow. What does this all have to do with me? I don’t mean to be rude, but I have to get the rest of the flowers planted or Lord Garvey will have my hide, and I can’t afford to lose this position.”
“You see, I knew both father and son,” Mr. Ludlow said as he walked over to William. “I served the father for the last forty years as both business adviser and friend. Upon his death, it was my duty to find his grandson, the son of the man who abandoned everything for the love of a woman.” The man placed a hand on William’s shoulder. “Today, I have found him.”
Realization came over William and his jaw dropped. “You mean…that person is me? I’m the grandson?”
The man gave him a wide smile. “Yes, Your Grace, it is you.”
William plopped back down into the chair, this time not caring whether he dirtied it or not. A duke? What in the world would he do with a dukedom?
***
“Duke or not, you’re still a gardener,” Thomas said, though his words held little bite.
William laughed as he placed the last few personal items into a bag. “That I am, my friend,” he said and clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder. He had few instances in which he had to say farewell to a friend, but it was never an easy feat, even now. He handed Thomas a small bag. “This is for you. May it help you get your cottage.”
Thomas opened the bag and peered inside. His eyes widened. “I can’t take this,” he gasped as he shoved it back toward William.
“If what Mr. Ludlow says is true, which I believe it is.” He leaned in, lowered his voice, and gave Thomas a wide grin. “And with the way the Baron’s been treating me since Mr. Ludlow showed up, I don’t doubt it even a bit. Please, my friend, take it. You have always treated me right, and I want to do this for you. Keep saving and one day you’ll have that cottage you’ve always wanted.”
“Thank you,” the old man said as he wiped a tear from his eye. “You mind yourself now. And watch out for those people; we both know how they are.”
“I do know,” William replied. “I’ll write you and have you visit soon enough.” He walked out of the tiny room he had called home for the past four years. It seemed strange to be leaving a place he loved, but he could not help but feel a sense of excitement for the new life that awaited him.
As he rounded the corner of the house, he stopped mid-step and gaped. A large carriage wi
th curtained windows and lacquered doors sat in front of the house, Mr. Ludlow standing beside it.
When the man saw William, he smiled. “Your Grace,” he said and then gave William a deep bow before opening the door for him.
“Grace,” Thomas said with a laugh from behind William. “He’s a lazy gardener is what he is.” Though the words sounded harsh, the tone behind them emanated warmth and caring.
William laughed, gave Thomas a final wave farewell, and then took the step up into the carriage. A moment later, Mr. Ludlow followed and closed the door behind them. The carriage had cushioned seats that were even more comfortable than the tiny bed he slept on in the room he shared with Thomas. It was as if the creator of the vehicle had taken the softest down from the best geese to fill the cushions. William considered that the seats would make a wonderful bed.
When the carriage began to move, William stuck his head out the open window and waved at Thomas, who remained standing beside the house. Although the man attempted to hide them, tears sparkled in his eyes. William would miss Thomas very much, and he hoped that one day he would be able to help him in some fashion.
“I still can’t believe this is happening,” William said as he sat back into the soft cushioned seat.
“There is still much more to share,” Mr. Ludlow said. “For you are about to enter a world you have never known before.”
With a smile, William sat up, ready to listen. No matter what lay ahead, as Thomas had said, he was a gardener and would always remain so. Even if he had more money than he knew what to do with.
Chapter Two
Marianne Blithe summoned all of her patience as she attempted to focus on the words of Mr. Duncan Sharp, the man who was currently walking beside her in the garden. Mr. Sharp had called over twice before, and though the man was somewhat handsome, he was completely and utterly a bore.
“So you see, it is quite simple, really,” he was saying at the moment. “A man should hunt and seek other such activities as a means for relaxation. To not do so would only cause him greater harm later in life. I have seen it all too often with older men. They become sickly, have issues of the heart, stomach, and nerves simply because they have chosen a life of only work.”
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