Chapter 2 (Part Four)

Henry’s New Assignment!

The Alistair Duchy

Cottage of Henry and Lyra Dorran

Henry's POV

~DAY FOUR~

Bargaining

“COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!”

I shot out of bed, gasping for air.

My arms instinctively reached out beside me, only to find the bed empty.

“My goodness, Henry. Are you alright?” Lyra’s voice called.

My head shot toward her.

She stared at me with a look of concern from the kitchen table.

Her face was only visible in the dim candlelight flickering beside her.

She held a large chef's knife, paused in midair.

Why would she be cutting vegetables at this hour?

“I’m fine, I just didn’t sleep well,” I said, slowly sitting up and covering my face with my hands.

Hoping to hide the deep sigh that threatened to slip past my lips, yet again.

Lyra didn’t respond right away, but continued chopping, a light hum lyrically wafting from her throat.

I stood up and proceeded to grab my clothes for the day.

I couldn’t help but nervously eye her between the short steps of my monotonous routine.

We had not ended last night on terms I would consider perfect by any stretch of the word.

Then she finally spoke.

“Since your reassignment, it seems as though you haven’t been sleeping well most nights.” She began.

I looked over at her as she placed the knife down next to her pile of neatly chopped vegetables.

“You’ve also been acting differently. Almost as if you cared more for a child who attempted to take her life more than your own wife,” She said, her expression dark.

My jaw threatened to drop in disbelief.

Lyra couldn’t seriously be jealous of… a child?

Nor could she possibly be trying to have this type of ridiculous argument before the sun had even laid its golden eyes upon us?

I struggled to quell the annoyance that slowly started to grow.

Instead, I continued to dress in silence before finally turning to look at her.

A short moment to calm myself was all I needed before addressing this matter.

I walked over to her and gently placed a kiss on her forehead. 

“Lyra, my love, please forgive me. I know that I have many faults, but I am a simple man.” I started, kneeling down in front of her.

Her eyes narrowed in defiance causing me to take another shaky breath before continuing.

“I know my words have come across harsh at times, and after a long day, I only seem to bring my burdens home. Selfishly laying them at your feet. I’ve left so little room for your joy, but please,” I said, taking her small hands in mine, holding them tightly.

“Please, know I would never intentionally wish to cause you any discomfort. My love for you is absolute. I exist only to provide you all the happiness this world can offer,”

I brought the back of her hands to my lips and placed a gentle kiss on them.

After a short while, she responded.

“I hope your words ring true, Henry–”

“COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO,”

Jack cried from outside, like damn clock work.

“..hurry and leave before you’re late.” She said, rolling her eyes, annoyance clear in her tone.

Yanking her hands away and focusing back on her work at the kitchen table.

Not giving me another look 

I stood up, giving Lyra one last glance before heading out the front door.

The brisk morning air hit my face like a refreshing wave…

Lately, our mornings have been much too tense.

I looked to find Jack giving himself a dust bath in the loose soil of our small yard.

I wondered what it might have been like being born a chicken?

I let out a soft chuckle, then stopped in my tracks.

Jack had looked up at me, his beautiful tiny black eyes glistening like precious beads, seemed to bore into me.

The way he quietly stared,...

As though I’d not be returning to his side once the day was done.

Never in my life had I known such an animated bird.

“Jack you must perk up, the day has only just begun,” I said, giving him a light pat on the head, before hurrying on my way.

I had begun to wonder if this would be my new norm?

Was I to wake up every morning unsettled by the prior day's events only to engage in growing discord with my wife?

There surely must be a solution to this cycle of madness, one I’ve simply overlooked.

I pulled myself out of my thoughts as I arrived at the Alistair Estate.

As usual, I shuffled in through the bustle of the rear servant’s entrance, but today I was en route to a different destination. 

Anita was currently assuming my duty to test and deliver Lady Isadora’s meals, as I would start preparations for the garden restoration.

Before I left the estate for the evening last night, I’d acquired the names of individuals I needed to meet with to get the process underway.

The first was Basil Thorne, the gardener of the Alistair countryside estate. 

I wasn’t able to find out much about Basil, but I did gather that he was a kind and thoughtful man, who always donned a wide-brimmed gardeners hat, a plaid shirt, and a rich brown apron.

He could also almost always be found in the greenhouse located on the main estate’s lawn.

Now, the greenhouse was an impressive structure, with wrought iron frames encasing a large curved glass roof.

Exotic plants lined the interior walls, vibrantly displayed through the south-facing windows.

This was nothing like Lady Isadora’s garden.

Perhaps the Duchess is only concerned with outward appearances.

I made my way through countless rows of flowers and plants that I couldn't even begin to fabricate names for–

That's when I saw it…

A large floppy hat floating behind the hedges like a ghost.

I hurried to the end of an aisle of plants.  

“Mr. Thorne!” I called out.

Before the thin man in front of me had the chance to scurry in the other direction, on to his next task, no doubt.

“Oh! Hello. Just Basil, if you will, and who might you be?” He asked, giving me a small, reserved smile.

Obviously taken off guard by my sudden appearance.

He had an average looking face, with a stiff mustache, and a lightly dusted beard of brown hair.

I could guess he was in his mid-thirties, but it was hard to tell with how weathered his skin appeared to be, no doubt due to his day to day toiling in the sun’s rays. 

“Good day, Basil. My name is Henry Dorran. I am Lady Isadora’s footman,” I said with a slight bow.

“I see. Well, what can I do for you, Mr. Henry?” Basil asked after a moment, shifting awkwardly.

“I have been tasked with the restoration of the east wing pleasaunce and I’ve come to request your assistance as the estate gardener,” I said nervously, watching his facial expression grow more discontent by the second.

“No.” He said flatly, turning to leave.

 “No? Wait, Basil! Why?” I said, hurrying to block his exit.

What reason would he have to refuse?

As the gardener, I assumed he’d be delighted to get the chance to work on an abandoned area of the estate once again.

“I poured my heart and soul into that garden. It encompassed all that Lady Ophelia believed in and worked for. Yet, you lot allowed it to rot all these years.” He spat out.

“What is it now? The poor soul’s daughter arrived half-dead, and you all want to insult her memory further?” Basil continued shaking his head at me in disgust.

I defensively held my hands up to calm him.

This is certainly going to be harder than I thought.

“Not at all, Basil. I assure you, I am not affiliated with the desecration of the sanctity of Lady Ophelia’s garden. My only desire is to see the young woman who sits alone in her room up there recover to her full potential.” I started, lowering my hands slowly.

“Like you, young Isadora is suffering greatly. It’s obvious Lady Ophelia touched the hearts of many.” I said, lightly pressing a hand to my own chest.

“I only offer a balm, not a bandage. My wish is to soothe the aches, never to simply hide the wound. Please believe that, Basil," I said with a gulp.

Praying my attempt to soothe him into at least having a proper conversation with me would work.

Basil stared at me for a long while.

So long, I began to think we would not respond to my plea.

“Follow me, Mr. Henry,” Basil replied.

Though his face remained wholly sceptical, he turned toward the inner atrium of the greenhouse.

I sighed in relief as I followed closely behind.

Basil may have had reservations about my intentions, but he is at least open to the idea of giving the late duchess’s memorial new life.

That in itself is at least a start.

I sat awkwardly at the cast-iron garden table that had been painted white, as he placed a cup of tea in front of me.

The light smell of citrus and mint made its way into my nostrils.

Oh my, what a lovely aroma.

I picked up the cup and took a sip.

It had a vibrant citrus flavor that was immediately followed by the cooling, gentle burst of mint.

I had never tasted such tea before.

“This tea is made from Sunstone Fennel,” Basil said simply, sitting down in front of me.

“You said you have some business with the east garden?” He asked, urging me to continue our earlier conversation.

Clearing my throat, I set my unfinished tea down and pulled out a small notepad from my breast pocket.

“As I said earlier, I’ve been tasked with the restoration of the east garden for Lady Isadora’s lasting recovery. I wanted to meet with you to revise the planting plan for the area. I know that there was a curated list in existence, but I’m told you were the only one who intimately worked on the pleasuance with Lady Ophelia,” I explained.

“What changed after all this time?” Basil asked, his arms folded in a most disputatious way.

“I’m sorry, Basil, I don’t quite understand what you mean,” I answered truthfully.

I didn’t have an inkling as to what issues he’d encountered in the past, as this was my first time meeting the man.

He uncrossed his arms and huffed a sigh before responding.

“I was told by that harpy and her ass of a henchman, Hartley, that I was forbidden from touching not only the east lawn, but also the private garden,” He said, a grim expression taking over his face.

It was clear that the ‘harpy’ was Her Grace..

I’m starting to understand things a little better now.

She ordered the memorial to be destroyed and the garden to die slowly all these years.

Not even allowing the gardener to set foot in the area.

I can only imagine how Basil must have felt being forbidden to enter a space he’d poured his all into. The guilt and defeat on his face was clear as day.

I had no idea that the estate was so deeply divided.

“Basil, I assure you I held no part in such an atrocious act, but I am here today to initiate the act of moving forward. I’d like for you to assist me in sowing a new beginning and giving back life to Lady Ophelia's memory. Please look at what I have here,” I said, sliding my chair closer to him and proceeding to go over my notes.

We talked for a while.

Basil explained to me all of the different types of plants that Lady Ophelia had cultivated from her homeland and their Verdantian symbolism.

“You see, this is called Silent Jade Moss, " Basil said, holding up a clump of thick, velvety dark green moss.

“We used this to improve the soil health in the garden. It’s native to Verdantia and was used in areas where grass struggled to grow,” He informed me.

I nodded taking in all the knowledge Basil had given me in such a short time.

“Lastly, we should allow the Iron-Root Vine to grow along the walls of the garden,” He said pointing to the vines running along the back wall of the greenhouse.

I had no idea how I hadn’t noticed it before.

The long woody roots ran along the wall, interlocking within itself. Beautiful metallic blue leaves hung sparingly from the vines, like jewels.

“This is a very strong root, similar to that of armor plating.” He said.

I gasped as he grabbed ahold of the vines and pulled himself up easily. He had not disturbed them in the slightest. I’d never known plants could be so strong.

It was quite alarming.

After jotting down a few more notes something caught my eye. 

In the corner of the greenhouse, there was a low-growing, delicate flower with sapphire-blue petals in the most peculiar droplet shape.

“What is this?” I asked, standing, and walking over to the mysterious flower.

I turned to look as Basil let out a soft sigh.

He held such a sorrowful expression.

“Ah, that would be–,”

DISSOLVE TO:

The Alistair countryside estate’s greenhouse. A late afternoon conversation over a cup of Sunstone Fennel tea.

“–Ophelia’s Tears. This is a very special plant back in Verdantia Isle,” Duchess Ophelia explained, taking a small sip of tea from her cup.

“And what makes this plant so special?” Basil asked with fast-growing intrigue.

“Basil! It would take all the absolute fun out of it if I were to tell you that before our next lesson,” Ophelia said with a mischievous smile.

“Ah, surely it must be some amazing secret, I shan’t sleep a wink tonight, I don’t think,” Basil said childishly with a deep frown upon his youthful face.

They both laughed and continued to sip the citrus and mint scented tea.

“You know Basil?” Ophelia mused.

“My Lady?” He asked.

“It’s quite a lovely pair we make, being named after special plants and all, don’t you think?” She asked, a smile playing on her lips.

“What’s so amazing about basil?” He huffed in disbelief.

“My my, you really don’t know? Basil is a staple in a great many cuisines! It also possesses various healing properties.” She said placing her cup down and standing up from her chair.

“Tsk, tsk, before we meet next, silly Basil, I expect you write 100 cuisines that include Basil,”

“Lady Ophelia!” Basil protested, as she flicked his forehead lightly with her finger.

“And when you finally grasp the importance of the plant, only then, will I teach you about–,”

WIPE TO:

The Alistair countryside estate’s greenhouse. A late morning meeting over Sunstone Fennel tea. Henry’s POV.

“–Ophelia’s tears,. It’s beautiful, but doesn’t carry any noteworthy properties, you'd be interested in Mr. Henry,” Basil said with a smile as if a fond memory had come to him.

“Now that we’ve got a plan for the layout of the garden, I wanted to speak to you about the memorial stone,” I said slowly.