“The train only comes once a week. We can’t leave her sitting on the platform all that time. Miss Uxbridge may as well stay here, milord.” Hector waggled his eyebrows at her.
Despite her unsure footing and new surroundings, it would seem Dawn had the support of more than the wolfhound. She drew a deep breath and marshalled her paltry resources.
Dawn spoke before she could change her mind. “Since the train will not return for a week, all I ask is that you allow me the next seven days to prove my worth.”
The earl’s nostrils flared and then he dropped his hands to his side. His fingers curled into a fist and then he released them as he exhaled. “Very well, since you are here. You have one week to survey the grounds and outline your proposal as to how you would proceed. If I am not satisfied, you will return to Whetstone.”
“Thank you, Lord Seton.” She dropped a curtsey as relief flowed down her legs. A week. It wasn’t long enough to find what pained a garden of this size, but she had her opportunity and now she either had to seize it or die trying.
Elijah made a silent whoop gesture behind his uncle’s back and grinned. Dawn smiled but kept her eyes downcast lest the earl suspect that his underlings were revolting. In the space of an hour, youth, dog, and Hector had made her feel welcomed.
“I won’t have an unchaperoned woman staying in the gardener’s cottage, so you will reside in the main house.” He gestured for Hector to pick up her suitcase and take it to the big house.
The blood drained from Dawn’s face and spots danced before her eyes. She couldn’t stay under the same roof as such a brooding presence. Not to mention the effort required to run back and forth from garden to manor. If she expired on the lawn during her first week, that would hardly contribute to a good impression for her employer. She dug her tree roots a little deeper into the ground and tried not to sway on her feet. “I will be entirely comfortable in the gardener’s cottage. Plus I have much to do and very little time to do it in. I may find plans and notes from the previous gardeners in the cottage that will assist my assessment of the grounds.”
Her heart would also appreciate her cutting down on unnecessary exertion. Already she wondered how she could tackle a project of such a vast scale when there didn’t seem any young men to enlist in the required labour. It probably wasn’t the done thing to ask the earl’s nephew to wield a spade, and Hector looked long past digging trenches and pruning trees.
The earl’s brows slid closer together and then he let out a sigh. “Very well, but only if you keep Mouse with you. He seems to have decided you are his human.”
The dog hadn’t left her side since they met at the train station. It was unnerving to be the focus of unswerving male (even though canine) attention. Was this what it felt like to have a beau? Mouse might be the closest she ever came to a steadfast companion. A dog would be another new experience for her to relish.
“Very well, my lord, as you wish,” she said. “Lead on, Hector.”
“You will join Elijah and me for dinner.” The earl’s voice halted her.
Her hands tightened on the orchid. Her energy reserves were depleted, and she needed to rest before the temporary boost from setting foot on Ravenswing wore off and she keeled over. She replied from sheer desperation, not from any genuine internal fortitude. “No, if you will forgive me. It has been a rather long day and the light is fading. Would you consider me terribly rude if I settled into my accommodation tonight?”
His stormy eyes were unreadable. “Tomorrow then. After you have walked the grounds, you can tell me your preliminary thoughts.”
Dawn swallowed. Tell him her thoughts? She wondered if she could ever manage to talk to him again after this encounter. She managed a tired smile. “I look forward to it, my lord. Master Elijah.”
“Good evening, Miss Uxbridge,” Elijah said.
“This way, miss.” Hector picked up suitcase and bag and gestured to a large stand of trees to the east. They followed a lime chip path that ran alongside a high brick wall. A large raven sitting atop cocked its head as they passed. Something about the way the bird watched triggered memories buried so deep, she couldn’t place her finger on why a shiver ran down her spine.
“Are there many ravens around here?” she asked.
Hector glanced up at the glossy black bird, then turned back to the path. “It’s how the estate got its name. There’s always been a family of them that live here. Watchers, we call them.”
“Watchers,” Dawn whispered. The same title her mother gave to the raven in their yard. No great coincidence surely, for the chief occupation of birds seemed to be watching.
Dawn tried to ignore the raven, but she was sure its black eyes drilled into her back as they walked. As they rounded a corner, she had to resist a squeal of delight as the gardener’s cottage came into view. If she were prone to reading fairytales, she’d say it looked like something a runaway princess would hide in.
Made of rough-hewn stone, it had an enormous chimney at one end and a large window either side of the front door. The thatched roof looked like an overgrown mop of hair. Lavender sprawled around the stone base of the cottage. But the part that made Dawn gasp was the building butting up next to it. Or rather the larger building the cottage sheltered against.
A glasshouse.
And not just any glasshouse, but an enormous construction easily twice the height of the cottage. It was a fanciful building with ornate curls and flourishes to the metal work holding in the glass. The top rose to an onion-like dome. Dirty panes resisted her attempts to see anything inside. A full exploration would have to wait for morning.
Hector pushed open the cottage door and carried in her suitcase and bag. He set them on the floor. “I’ll bring you a tray at dinner time. Don’t wander off now. It’ll be full dark soon and you might get lost.”
“Very well,” Dawn murmured. Given the overgrown state of the estate, she suspected it would be all too easy to get lost among the rampant growth. She would limit herself to her immediate environment until she got her bearings.
Alone at last, she let out a deep sigh and her shoulders slumped. Exhaustion began to nibble at the corners of her mind, and she longed to put her feet up and pretend she hadn’t been impertinent to someone far above her station. But first, she surveyed her new accommodation.
The cottage was small and appeared to consist of three main rooms. One larger space was divided into areas by use of furniture. The wooden floor boards were worn but clean. One side contained the parlour, the other side kitchen and dining area.
A door led to a modest bedroom, where a double bed took up most of the space. A small table sat beside the bed, and in the wall at the foot of the bed, built-in cabinets for her clothes and belongings. In the wall above the headboard was set a window with wooden shutters, and on either side, bookshelves for bedtime reading material.
In the parlour, Dawn discovered that the door next to the bedroom led to a fabulous convenience – an indoor water closet. At least she wouldn’t have to wander outside looking for somewhere to empty a chamber pot. A large mirror hung over the tiny basin.
The wide fireplace would warm the entire parlour once lit, and two comfortable armchairs sat in front of the cold grate. A side table nestled between the overstuffed armchairs. The kitchen had a long bench with a sink and next to it, a tiny range. The dining area had a round table and four plain wooden chairs.
But it was the artwork dominating one wall that drew Dawn toward it. Or not so much a work of art as a labour of love. A detailed map of the entire estate stretched over the kitchen wall. It was at least six feet long and three feet tall. Closer inspection revealed someone had whitewashed the wall and painted directly onto the plaster. She followed the swoop of the driveway to the manor house and the gardens spiralled out around it.