Page 19 of Snowdrops and Winterberry
“The lady thought it as brilliant an idea as we do.”
Miss MacGregor looked around. “The trench is where the wall will be built?”
“Aye.” Though not Scottish himself, he’d heard that word often enough to be able to reproduce it just as the Scots would say it.
“And the gate’ll be just there?” She pointed toward the gap in the trench.
“Aye.”
“And what will lie between here and there?”
He took the grubbing hoe from her and leaned it against the existing wall. He guided her over to where the gate would be and positioned her and himself so that they were looking at what would soon be the walled garden. He explained to her what was planned, where the larger tree would be as well as the smaller shrubs, which were flower beds and what flowers would be in them. He walked with her along what would be the stone path. He pointed out the spot where benches would be placed, explaining that one would be in the shade and the other in the sun so visitors could choose between the two.
Miss MacGregor asked impressive questions. Once or twice she offered an alternate idea to what he had planned. She showed herself to have a fine eye for plants and landscapes. She knew trees and bushes and flowers more than he would’ve expected from one who’d passed more than twenty years of her life working inside homes.
“Are you certain you haven’t secretly been filling the role of gardener somewhere?” he asked.
Her smile blossomed ever broader, and his heart poundedever harder. “I do occasionally work on the grounds at Falstone Castle. The gardener there allows me to join him. I’ve found I like spending a bit of time out in nature. There’s something nice about the feel of the earth in one’s hands, and I’ve just as curious a disposition as Adam does. I’ve asked a great many questions of the gardener, likely driving the poor man mad. But I’ve learned a whole heap from him, and he now eagerly welcomes my assistance. I’ve a great deal more time on my hands with Adam away at school.”
That surprised him. “I didn’t realize the Quality sent their sons away to school so young.”
“Very few do. He is, in fact, too young to truly begin his schooling. But there’s a boardinghouse that sits just outside of Harrow School, where the underage boys who’ve been sent away are given some schooling and a place in which to live out the years until they’re old enough to pass through the school gates and begin theirformaleducation.”
“Sounds rather like an orphanage.”
Her eyes grew sad once more. “To hear Adam speak of it, the placefeelsthat way as well.”
“It’s no wonder, then, that you are so eager to give him this Christmas celebration. This tiny duke needs a spot of happiness in his life.”
“You called it hope. I cannot clear my mind of that word. More than anything, he needs hope. The more life pulls people away from him, the more he’s sent away and left behind, the more he’ll struggle to feel it.”
“While he’s here, he’ll be surrounded by it.”
“Thank you for helping,” she said. “I know you didn’t come here to throw a party for a wee boy. It speaks well of you that you don’t begrudge him the time you’re spending.”
“And it speaks well of you that you’ve a love for shrubs and trees and nature.”
“Thatisthe sort of thing you’d praise in a person.” The observation might have felt like a criticism before their last couple of encounters. He now saw it for the dry humor it was.
They set back to their work, he laying bricks and she turning over soil. Conversation between them was easy. He often hired on workers to help him, but the words passing between them were generally limited to discussions of the work and corrections of their efforts. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d undertaken a job with someone he could easily gab with.
“What other plans do the lot of you have for this Christmas celebration?” he asked as the day went on.
“Lord and Lady Jonquil are planning to undertake some games. That was a tradition they had growing up. It turns out they were wee childhood friends; they’ve a shared history.”
“Perhaps that’s why they seem so deeply bonded.” He began laying bricks for another bed. “Did your family have any Christmas traditions before all of you had to go your separate ways?”
“We’d bring in greenery to brighten the house. Mother’d make the finest meal we could afford. It was never anything truly fine, but she made what she could. We made little gifts for each other. It was quiet, but it was joyful.”
“Sounds very much like mine from childhood. There’s something to be said for simplicity.”
“My father always said it’s people that make Christmas special, nae things.”
“That is very much the philosophy for this party you’re planning. Your lonely little duke will be surrounded by people who care about him, and that will make the day special.”
“I hope so.”
Miss MacGregor stayed another hour, working tirelessly and chatting amiably. He accomplished every bit as much as he always did, but he enjoyed it far more. He liked working withsomeone who felt like a friend. How easily he could imagine himself having someone in his life he could work with and talk with.
