Page 19 of Not Exactly Mr. Darcy
He lifted a brow. “Is that what you call it?”
Wow. Someone had taken his grumpy pills this morning. “Well, I know it’s not up to your fastidious standards, but I’m doing my best.”
She looked over her handiwork, then realized it really didn’t look so handy. Far from the smooth, even appearance she’d been aiming for, the hedge now had lumps and bumps and bare sections that made it look far less appealing than the flower-strewn hedge of before, overgrown though it had been.
His gaze narrowed. “This is Veronica Hastings’ place.”
“Yes. So?”
“Does she know you’re doing this?”
Her cheeks heated. “It’s a surprise.”
“Certainly will be,” he muttered, like he thought it wouldn’t be a pleasant one.
“Look, I get it that it’s not perfect, but I’m having a go. And surely having a go is better than just watching things get worse.”
His scowl intensified, and she wondered what she’d said wrong now. Apparently this gardener man did not think her efforts as much of a blessing as Tobias had. Equally obvious was the fact that the man had no thought of any other car coming upon them, stopped as he was in the middle of the road.
“Are you quite all right?” she asked, as kindly as she could.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You just seem a bit tired, that’s all.”
“I’m perfectly fine, thank you,” he snapped.
Clearly. She smiled, and his irritation seemed to grow as he muttered something under his breath. Good. Maybe he’d realize just how ridiculous he was being.
Then his brow smoothed. “Are you Veronica’s granddaughter?”
“Yes.”
He studied her, and she grew acutely aware of her muddied knees, flushed cheeks, and messy hair. Yes, she certainly looked like a prize, and nothing like Gran’s usual neat and tidy self.
He huffed, then, as a vehicle pulled into sight, shook his head and drove on.
Ugh. What was wrong with the man? Why did he always make her feel wrong-footed? She examined the hedge and winced. Yes, it now looked a little worse for wear—okay, a lot worse—but it would grow. At least it wasn’t a hazard anymore.
As she commenced clipping on the other side, the sense of being wrong done by persisted. Why did Liam the gardener seem to dislike her so much? Back home, people helped each other, like Tobias had done. Just what had she done wrong?
Her arms were almost too sore to hold the steering wheel the next day as she returned from the hospital with Gran in the front seat. Liv kept sneaking glances at her, having figured out the ancient car’s tricky clutch and stiff gears, doing her best to provide a smooth drive home.
“How are you feeling, Gran?”
“You do not need to keep checking on me. I’m perfectly fine.”
She said that now but might not say that soon. A wrinkle of concern at what her grandmother might say when she saw the front hedge creased her heart. It wasn’t that bad, but maybe it would be worth giving her grandmother a heads-up about what to expect. She didn’t want the woman dying of a heart attack because she was upset by the absence of her flowery hedges.
She slowly drove past Hartbury Hall at Gran’s insistence. Feeble sunlight fought a losing battle with showers, much like the losing battle the stone walls seemed to be facing, with their occasional rockfalls.
Her grandmother sighed. “It’s such a shame.”
Liv glanced at her. “What is? The Hall?”
“I can’t believe he said no,” Gran muttered.
“Who said no?”
