by Amy Ephron
~ CHAPTER ELEVEN ~
an invitation to dinner
They walked back through the sculpture garden. Not one of them said a word. Tess was enormously relieved when they reached the backyard and there was the perfectly mown lawn. The frogs were chirping in the pond and jumping back and forth on the lily pads.
It must’ve been a construction site. That was the only thing she could think of. Someone had levelled the land and hadn’t yet started to build. But that didn’t account for the silence . . .
Max was looking a little green. He really did have motion sickness. The doughnut lady offered him a glass of lemonade, which she said was excellent for settling stomachs. It turned out her name was Clarissa and she was really the cook. She’d made lovely shortbread cookies, cream puffs, and petits fours with pink and green icing. Tess was starving and proceeded to eat three cream puffs, two shortbread cookies, and five petits fours, at which point Marie gave her a look that clearly stated that perhaps she’d eaten enough! Tess put a half-eaten cookie down. “I have a terrible sweet tooth,” she confessed. “I always have.”
Max insisted he couldn’t eat anything because he was dizzy from the merry-go-round.
“The carousel wasn’t the hardest part,” said Tess. Max looked at her confused. Tess realized that he didn’t know what she was referring to . . .
The sun had moved again in the sky. Tess knew they had to head back home. She took a last look at the garden. She hadn’t noticed all the white roses in a bed next to the hydrangeas edging the perfectly green lawn. Her mother loved white roses.
She took a walk over to the rose garden and leaned down to smell their fresh and fragrant scent. Pure Oxygen, her mother would’ve said.
William had walked with her to the rose bed. “I would give you one,” he said, “but we’re not allowed to cut the roses.” Somehow the fact of another rule didn’t surprise Tess at all. She thought it was sweet of William to want to give her a rose.
Tess was so grateful to be back on planted ground. She looked around the yard. There was the white tablecloth on the grass, the wicker basket for the sweets, the silver birch tree that now had two white doves resting on its branches.
“It’s so beautiful here,” said Tess.
“You should see it at night,” said William, “when the stars are out!”
William ran across the lawn to Marie. Tess started to run after him. She realized her legs were sore from the ride as she couldn’t quite run as fast as him. She’d wanted to ask him about the hedge, about the house next door, or the not house next door, but he was already off on the next thing.
“Marie,” he said excitedly, “could we invite Tess and Max for dinner? Not tonight, properly, as if it was a party. Three people’s enough for a party, isn’t it? I mean four . . . Could we have a party Saturday night?”
Marie laughed and looked at Tess for a response.
“We would have to ask Aunt Evie if it’s all right,” Tess answered. “We’ve never gone out on our own at night, not since we’ve been in England. She would probably insist on driving us.”
Barnaby, who was standing a few feet away eating the last of a cream puff, piped in, “Tell her I’ll be happy to drop you back!”
“Is there a proper address?” Max asked. “I mean, a front door.”
It was so like Max to think of something logical like that.
Barnaby answered again. “Of course there is. Just drive up to the gate. 200 Hampshire Road. I’ll let you in.”
That made sense. Aunt Evie’s address was 100 Hampshire Road. Tess found it sort of reassuring that there was a front entrance, after all.
As they were about to leave through the back gate, William whispered in her ear, “But be sure to bring the key. You never know when we might need it.”
Tess looked at him curiously and nodded. There were so many questions she wanted to ask but it was late and if their aunt approved, she would see him Saturday . . .
~ CHAPTER TWELVE ~
wondering if they might have imagined it, after all...
They raced down the hill, through the orchard, and back to their aunt’s, Tess complaining all the way that her legs were stiff. When they entered the house, Max was flushed from the carousel ride and the run down the hill. He, too, was understandably full of questions. Most of which Tess didn’t think she could answer, and some of which she thought they’d best keep from their aunt, which is why she’d announced a “closet talk” and she and Max were sitting on the floor of her closet with the door shut.
“Who is William?” asked Max. “Do you know anything about him?” Tess thought he sounded so much like their father. She realized how protective Max was of her. Funny, her younger brother showing what her dad would call his protective stripes.
He went on to ask, “I mean, what is the castle exactly?” before she could even answer the first two. “When do you think it was built?”
“Do you think it really is a castle?” Tess answered. “Or just a big house?”
Tess realized she’d never been inside the castle. The two times she’d been there, she’d only been outside. She had a lot of questions, too.
“If it’s just a big house, it’s in the design of a castle.”
“Okay,” said Tess, “fair enough.”
“And whose castle is it? Is it theirs? Aunt Evie thought they were summer renters.”
“It seems to be, doesn’t it?” said Tess. “Their castle. I mean, William said his grandfather gave the merry-go-round to him as a birthday gift. It sounds like it belongs to his family.”
“I guess that’s right,” Max answered. “That makes sense. I sure understand what it’s like to have your dad be away.”
Tess hesitated. “Were you worried when I disappeared?” she asked.
Max looked at her completely puzzled.
“When?”
“When we were riding on . . .”
Max interrupted her, “The carousel? Did you disappear?”
She realized that he didn’t know what she was talking about. She started to describe the meadow and then something about the way Max looked at her—as if she was out of her mind—made her stop. She did wonder if it had been her wish all along.
What if it was true? What if wishes did come true and she’d wasted a wish, a real wish . . . Why hadn’t she wished for something more—something more than a ride on a real horse?
But her dad always said things happened the way they were supposed to and that you weren’t supposed to feel regret. She understood that, now. It was the first time she’d ever felt regret, selfish, that she’d wished it was a real horse, something so trivial and momentary, and that she and William were going for a real ride. She should have wished for something so much more. But maybe she had imagined it, after all.
If you could make a real wish, what would it be? Tess knew what hers was.
Their conversation was interrupted by a brisk knock, three times on the door.
“Yoo-hoo!” Aunt Evie called out as she opened the closet door and saw the two of them sitting on the floor having what appeared to be a deep conversation.
“Hmm,” she said, “I was wondering where you were . . .”
“Umm . . . we were ummm, playing a game called ‘spy’,” said Tess in an attempt to explain why they were sitting on the floor of the closet. “It always starts in the closet.”
Max was impressed his sister came up with that so fast.
“We used to play it with Dad sometimes,” Tess added.
“Oh,” said Aunt Evie, “that’s very creative. Dinner’s ready. Didn’t want it to get cold.” She turned and walked out of the room so quickly, they had no choice but to follow her down the stairs to the dining room.
After they were all seated at the table and Aunt Evie had said grace, “Bless us every one and all the ones we love,” folded her napkin in her lap
, and served them each a slice of chicken, mashed potatoes, and peas, she asked, “What was your afternoon like?”
“Lovely,” said Tess.
“Where were you exactly?” asked Aunt Evie.
“At William’s,” said Tess.
And Max added, just to be precise, “200 Hampshire Road.”
“Really?” said Aunt Evie. “200 Hampshire Road? Are you sure that address is right?”
Max and Tess both nodded.
“The old Bramsfield Castle? Really. No one’s lived there for years. Really?”
Aunt Evie said “Really?” about four more times until Tess finally said, “Yes, Aunt Evie, we’re sure that’s the right address. Max and I both know it because he invited us for dinner Saturday night.”
There was a slight pause before Aunt Evie said, “Really?”
“Really,” said Tess. “Honestly. Really.”
Tess poured Max a glass of water from the pitcher on the table since he still looked sort of green. “Thanks, Tess,” he muttered and then took a tiny sip.
“I thought the castle was abandoned. That they hadn’t been able to find any of the heirs. That’s so curious,” Aunt Evie said. “Since I’ve been coming here with John for summers”—Aunt Evie had a curious habit of referring to her dead husband in the present tense—“over twelve years now, no one’s lived there. Hmmm. I wonder if the magistrate has taken it over, then? Are they renters?”
“What’s a magistrate?” asked Max as he pushed his peas around on his plate so Aunt Evie might think he was eating.
“You know,” said Tess, “someone official like the State of New York.”
“Oh,” said Max. “I don’t know about that, but it doesn’t seem as if they’re renters. He seems to be part of the family that owns the home. He says it used to be his grandfather’s house. His father’s in London, though, and he’s here with his governess.”
“She’s French,” Tess said quickly. “Her name’s Marie. But her English is perfect. And she seems to take good care of him. There’s also a groundskeeper named Barnaby. And I think he lives there, too.”
“And a cook,” Max added.
“They must’ve come into some money, then. I thought the place was in disarray.”
“The gardens are beautiful,” said Tess. “A perfect lawn, a bed of white roses, a pond with swans and,” she looked at Max, “bullfrogs. A very well-tended garden. In fact, it inspired us. Can we help you in your garden tomorrow? The roses really are a bit of a tangle. And your rosemary’s way overgrown.”
Aunt Evie couldn’t help but smile at Tess’s knowledge of a garden, which fell into the category for her of “things that are passed down to you by your mother.”
“But,” Tess continued, “I think if Max and I attack the rose bushes—Mother taught us how, we always help her in the country—we might be able to get them to bloom again. I bet there’s other things hidden in there, too. Kind of like your own secret garden.”
“It’s true,” Aunt Evie answered. “There used to be lovely lilies. The bulbs should still be there and Lord knows what else. I could use the help.”
“Can we?” Tess asked.
“Can you what?” said Aunt Evie, who’d lost the thread of the conversation, as she was trying to remember where she’d planted the hydrangeas and if any of them even had the faintest blooms.
“Can we go to William’s for dinner Saturday?” asked Tess. Then she looked at her brother, who hadn’t touched his food. “Try the mashed potatoes, Max. You always like those. We ate too much at William’s house today. The cook made home-made petits fours.”
“Really?!” said Aunt Evie. At which point Tess and Max couldn’t help it. They both started laughing for reasons they couldn’t quite explain.
~ CHAPTER THIRTEEN ~
aunt evie’s garden
What’s a crocus?” asked Max.
“It’s a little blue flower,” Tess said.
“I think I found one,” Max said.
“Really?” said Tess, inadvertently doing a perfect imitation of Aunt Evie when she said it.
At which point Max and Tess broke into uncontrollable laughter again. Luckily, for both of them, Aunt Evie smiled.
They were helping her in the garden—her garden—although it was such a tangle, it was hard to call it a garden at first.
“Oh dear,” said Aunt Evie when they first went into the backyard. “I have no idea how I’d do this if the two of you weren’t here!” She gave them each a pair of gardening gloves, a small trough, and eXpert gardening shears, at least that’s what it said on the handle: EXPERT. “Be careful with those,” Aunt Evie said. “Be sure to lock them and unlock them and watch out for your fingers!”
Tess could’ve quoted the next thing she said, pointing to the roses. “Cut above a five-leaf cluster.” It was something their mom always said, “Cut above a five-leaf cluster. Roses have three-leaf clusters and five-leaf clusters.” And you were supposed to cut just above the five-leaf cluster. It was supposed to encourage growth, or at least that was the common belief in the family. There was only one problem—a lot of the roses didn’t have leaves at all. But Aunt Evie, anticipating the dilemma, added, “Unless, of course, they don’t really have any leaves. Just cut them anywhere above a notch and maybe they’ll sprout something. Maybe . . .” Aunt Evie didn’t sound too sure.
Evie was upset that she had let the garden get so overgrown. It was one of the things she’d always done with her husband, John—trim the garden, he would mow the lawn—and it was the one thing she couldn’t bear to do alone. The morning glories had quite tangled themselves around almost everything in the garden.
“Just pull them out,” Aunt Evie instructed. “Clip them somewhere and just keep pulling. Watch out for the rose thorns. And don’t throw the morning glories back in the dirt. They’ll simply root again. Toss them over on this sheet I laid out on the lawn.”
In truth, you could hardly call it a lawn. It looked more like a meadow. Aunt Evie thought the most they would be able to do is pull some weeds from it and let the funny flowers grow wild—as if she had her own version of a moor. But Max surprised her and pulled the lawn mower out of the shed.
“Don’t worry, Aunt Evie. Dad taught me how to do this. The one we have in the country runs on gas. But this one looks like it just runs on its own.”
Aunt Evie laughed. “Well, it would hardly run on its own. At least I don’t think it could. It kind of needs you to push it,” which, she had to admit, Max was doing quite efficiently.
“If you’re going to William’s on Saturday night for dinner,” Aunt Evie announced, “I think I’ll go into town to The White Horse.” She dropped her voice to a whisper, “They have a poker game in the back room on Saturday nights.”
“Real money?” asked Max.
“Yep,” said Aunt Evie, “but don’t tell anyone, it’s probably not legal.”
Aunt Evie was lying to them, but they didn’t know that. She wasn’t going to The White Horse at all. In fact, if things worked out the way they were supposed to, she would have quite a surprise in store for the children. Since, in her experience, though, things didn’t always turn out the way they were supposed to, she thought it was best if she kept it a secret for now. Aunt Evie had a few tricks up her sleeve, too. But all she said out loud was, “An evening out sounds splendid.”
“Is that a yes, then?” asked Tess. “Can we go to William’s?” Tess realized Aunt Evie had never quite answered the question the night before.
“You mean, may we,” said Aunt Evie. “And that was a yes.”
~ CHAPTER FOURTEEN ~
trying to find the meaning of the hawthorn trees
Aunt Evie fell asleep on the living room sofa after supper. Tess tiptoed out of the living room and into the study. She pulled the big Encyclopedia of Plants and Herbs down from the bookshelf and sat down on the flo
or. Tess thought there was something Aunt Evie hadn’t told them about the hawthorn trees—her face had darkened and she’d said something like, “Oh, this is very complicated,” and shut the book. In Tess’s mind that was just grown-up code for: Oh, this is something children don’t need to know. Tess wanted to know everything she could about hawthorn trees and why William had warned her to stay away from them.
There it was. Oh, it was complicated and somewhat contradictory. And . . . and, she had to admit, a little scary.
Hawthorn can bring good luck or bad luck. It flowers in May, but it is thought to be unlucky to bring a flowering branch into the house; the mother of the house might die. The book actually said that. It also said, If you sit under a hawthorn tree on the first of May, then you were likely to be spirited away to the fairy world forever. Luckily, thought Tess, it was long past May, so they didn’t have to worry about that one. The Pilgrims named their ship after it, the Mayflower. That was the sort of trivia her dad would probably appreciate. But it also said, Hawthorn has long been thought to be the cure for broken hearts. Tess had no idea what that could even mean. Did that mean that it was actually used as medicine, like if someone had had a heart attack or something, or that it could cure a romantically broken heart? She shut the book and put it back up on the shelf, carefully, so that Aunt Evie would never know she had taken it down. Good luck or bad luck? It was very confusing. In any event, Tess resolved to try her best to stay away from the hawthorn trees . . .
~ CHAPTER FIFTEEN ~
entering the castle from the front door
I think my car would look lovely parked in their driveway, don’t you?” said Aunt Evie when they pulled up to the gates at Bramsfield Castle. Max started laughing. “I don’t remember it being so grand,” she said.
It was just after seven and still light out. The gates were imposing and Tess noticed a crest in the middle of them, the same symbol that was in the skeleton key now resting safely in the black sequined evening bag she’d borrowed from Aunt Evie. She wondered if that was the best place for it. There wasn’t a pocket in her black pencil skirt. There wasn’t a pocket in the white silk sleeveless blouse she had on. She was wearing boots, tie-up boots, that she loved, black suede. She opened the purse and took the key out and instinctively put it in her boot, as if she was a warrior going into battle. Or a spy. She could hear William’s voice—be sure to bring the key.