“I should get back before I am missed. Know that you are not alone, and we are all vigilant to ensure Ava doesn’t reach you. I want you to have time to make your own decision about this thing between us, like you asked.” He traced the line of her jawbone with a fingertip and then was gone.
Dawn shut the door on his retreating back. She slid the bolt across and leaned against the ancient piece of wood. Time. The thing he offered was also the one thing in short supply. Did she really have time to decide whether to accept all he offered? How long before either the Ravensblood tree died, Ava succeeded in driving her away, Lettie succumbed to her madness, or Dawn’s unreliable heart gave out?
She blew out a sigh. She needed to stop time. To still the world on its axis so she could mull over her options. And more importantly, she wanted time with her mother to unburden everything and hear her advice.
Dawn wiped a tear from her cheek. “First things first, Mouse. I shall get dressed.”
She washed, bathed her wrist again, and then downed another spoonful of tonic. Finally dressed and slightly more confident in the morning sunshine, Dawn walked down to the courtyard to find her willing labourers. The men were like a force of nature, sweeping away years of neglect before them. Today they would burn the herbaceous borders. It had taken two days to lay the ground work for what they would do. First the men had to dig a trench along the side of the hedge, to create a sort of fire break. Then they carted old hay from the barn, laying it down thick over the weeds and sickly plants. They were careful to leave a one foot gap in front of the hedge.
With water and blankets at the ready, they were finally at the next stage. Dawn struck a match and lit a pile of hay.
Dry strands caught and burned quickly, puffing out of existence before the flames reached too far. Soon the entire length of the border smouldered and thick smoke rose up into the air. Fire would cleanse the borders, and the carbon would renew the earth when they dug it back in. That just left the sheltering yew. Dawn hadn’t decided whether it could be rescued from the python killing it or if they would be better to chop it all out and plant new.
“You enjoy setting fire to my estate far too much,” Jasper said from beside her.
Dawn kept a careful watch on the smoking hay. “I do believe cleansing fire was your idea, and rather a good one as it turned out. It seems to be the only thing that can tackle that vine, although I wait every moment for it to mount a return assault.”
“It amazes me the progress you make every day. Have you thought where you would locate your ladies’ walk and secret nook?”
Oh, to have the time to create a new area for the long-neglected estate. “I have. I thought running off the rose garden and back toward the forest walk?”
“Show me.” He held out his hand.
Hector grinned at them. “You two go, I’ll keep an eye on things here.”
She placed her hand in Jasper’s and he pulled her closer. They walked together along an overgrown path, kicking scraggly shrubs out of the way as they went. The rose garden was to the east of the house. The beds were laid out in a geometric design with square and rectangular beds making the inside of the design. A once-bright white lime path wound between the beds, now a dull grey. Originally the garden had been a place of graceful beauty. Now it was hideous and deformed like a porcelain doll thrown into a fire that shattered and scorched.
The buxus hedging that enclosed each bed looked beyond saving. Many of the plants had died and only their little brown skeletons remained. Others grew long and tall and keeled over their neighbours. A few burst sideways and invaded the roses. The clean lines of each shaped bed had disappeared and instead grew lumpy and uneven.
On the original plan, a beautiful ornamental pond and fountain rested at the rose garden’s centre. Now a disgusting swamp of green, viscous sludge loitered in its place. An overly sweet, fetid tang wafted off the scum. Dawn wrinkled her nose.
Here Ava’s minion spread a web-like embrace over everything, like a fisherman who throws his net into the ocean to catch all in its path. The square beds were smothered by the woody fabric, and it wrapped tight around the fountain. It looked as though a madman had wound barbed wire about it.
Even the rose bushes were ugly shapes compared to what they might once have been. Long, scraggly growth had been left unchecked and thorny limbs reached as though begging for mercy. Water shoots sprouted from the base of standards and took over, obscuring the elegant shape that must have once stood on the same spot.
“It’s certainly not much to look at any more,” Jasper said. “I tried a few different gardeners over the years who responded to the advertisement, but none made any headway and most left within a week. Ava’s malicious presence tended to scare most of them away.”
“It will take a year or two to bring this back to life. I will need to grow on box cuttings from those plants with healthy growth to replace the lot. Some of the roses won’t survive a hard prune, but that gives us the opportunity to revisit the colour scheme.” Dawn peered closer at one leggy rose trying to bloom. Once it might have been pure yellow, but now it was blotchy and reminded her of a water stain on wallpaper. What blooms struggled on the plants were covered in greenfly, Dawn’s old nemesis.
Only one rose made a last stand against the decay.
“Viridiflora,” Dawn said, reaching out to touch a subtle flower. The green-tinged faux blooms had faded to coppery tones, and the entire shrub was covered in bright green growth.
Jasper stood behind her and peered over her shoulder. “It was a favourite of my mother’s.”
She turned her head to frown at him. “Really? It was not widely available in England until the 1850s, although there was talk of it reaching our shores over a hundred years ago.”
“My father brought it from China in 1740 as a gift for mother.” He plucked a single perfect bloom and tucked it behind her ear.
Dawn couldn’t imagine a more amazing love than a man who hunted out rare and beautiful flora specimens for the light of his life. Or a father who found a brilliant magenta orchid for his sickly child to bring a piece of beauty into her room.
“Did you know the flower is not made of petals, but sepals? With no flowers, she has no seed and must be propagated by hand. It is a gardener’s love that spreads her offspring around England. She may not be a showy beauty like other roses, but viridiflora has a quiet constancy about her.” Dawn admired the hardy rose. Practically evergreen, it kept going no matter what life – or Ava – threw in its way.
“Where would you put your arbour walkway?” Jasper asked.
Dawn turned and oriented herself. She raised her arms and gestured to one side of the enclosed garden. “Here, running back toward the forest.”
While her arms were outstretched, Jasper grabbed her from behind and pulled her against his chest. “I have you now.”
She laughed and turned in his arms, dropping her hands over his head. “Now you have caught me, whatever will you do with me?”
He dropped his head so his cheek brushed hers. “I have spent decades studying how to pleasure a woman, perhaps I could show you something of what I have learned?” The hot words sent a shiver down her spine.
“Did you have a tutor or was it all pictures in books?” she teased.
He growled and nipped at her neck, and she bit back a gasp.
“I knew I wasn’t imagining things. You did nip me the first night in the library. Terribly inappropriate thing for a lord to do to his head gardener.” She arched her neck, encouraging him to do it again.
He nuzzled closer. “If I would do that to my gardener, just imagine the things I would do to my landscape designer.”
The problem was she couldn’t imagine; she simply didn’t have the breadth of experience. Nor was it anything she discussed with her mother. Perhaps she should be borrowing quite different books from the lord’s library rather than the pile of botany tomes.
He exhaled over her neck and then lifted his head. “I have spoken to the Lord Warder who has a care for Whetstone.”