“It often happens that way.” Honora swept in and took Rose by the hand, pulling her attention off the portrait. “That a child looks more like one than the other. But I can assure you, she is his mother.” Honora laughed a little too loudly.
“Honora…” Christopher’s expression darkened.
“What did I say?”
It was another strange interaction, and Rose was sure to notice it this time.
Every time Christopher’s mother was mentioned, Christopher became upset, even angry, and Honora turned even more hysterical than usual. For some reason, he did not like talking about her, and Rose could not help but wonder if it had something to do with this relationship and why Christopher was the way that he was.
She wanted to ask. She wanted to pry. She wanted answers! But now was not the time.Not yet… not until I can prove to Christopher that he can trust me.
The final stop on the tour was the most surprising of all…
“The best for last!” Honora announced as she ushered them both into a private room located on the bottom floor of the manor,right in the very back corner, so that it would not be stumbled upon by accident.
It was dark outside, which made the room hard to gauge at first, especially when considering that the walls and ceiling were made from glass, and there was no light anywhere to be found. It thus took a moment for her eyes to adjust… or rather, her nose.
Rose smelt it before she saw it. The smell of freshly cut grass, of blooming flowers, of nature and all things good and beautiful growing throughout the small orangery. Her eyes widened, and her smile grew as her eyes adjusted and she took in the room properly for the first time.
“Oh my!” Rose gasped, turning on the spot so that she could see the greenery; how it grew up the walls, spread along the floor, enveloped the entire room so it looked like a small forest. “This is…”
“I can’t believe you kept it.” Christoper stepped in beside her. “After all this time?”
“Of course I did, Christopher,” Honora said. “Of course I did.”
“What does that mean?” Rose tore her eyes from the room and found Christopher and Honora looking at one another strangely.
Christopher wore the slightest of smiles, and Honora’s eyes twinkled in the darkness. It was as if they were having a sharedconversation, one about a memory that both had experienced, and that Honora was just now reminding him of.
“Nothing…” Christopher tore his eyes free, and he was still smiling when he did. “I am just surprised that this still exists.”
“I wasn’t going to tear it down,” Honora said rightly. “How could I? When my little nephew always loved it so much.” Honora took Rose’s hand and led her deeper into the orangery. “When Christopher was a boy, he used to love coming here. Didn’t you?”
“I did,” Christopher chuckled.
“So, this is where he gets it from?” Rose said. “I had wondered about that. Have you always loved gardening?”
“Me? No, I can’t stand it,” Honora said without humor. “This here…” She indicated proudly to the orangery. “This was the brainchild of one of my maids, if you believe that! Ha!” She shook her head. “She conceived it when I was ill one time, thought it might cheer me up. And the hours she put into it…” She sighed and shook her head at the memory. “I couldn’t very well tear it down.”
“Where is she now?” Rose asked. “The maid, I mean?”
It was a fair question, Rose thought, and certainly not deserving of the tense reaction given to her by both Honora and Christopher. They looked at one another again, expressionssuddenly stern… even a warning in Christopher’s eyes for his aunt not to say anything.
“She has passed on, sadly,” Honora answered. “Years ago, now.”
“It is unimportant,” Christopher grumbled, and he turned away as if he meant to flee the room suddenly.
“I don’t understand…” Rose looked between them, still confused. “If you didn’t do this yourself, why did Christopher develop such a love for gardening? I assumed you might have built it together?”
Another fair question, and another answered with an awkward silence and more strange looks exchanged between Christopher and Honora.
Once again, Rose was desperate to push and find out more. That niggling sense that something was going on here… a secret shared… one that both aunt and nephew were desperate to keep hidden.
No… not yet. Christopher and I have come so far, but we are nowhere near close enough yet that I might risk everything on what might be nothing at all. If he wants me to know, he will tell me.
It was a strange evening, and not at all what Rose had expected.
In many ways, it was a success, as she was given a keen insight into her husband beyond what she already knew. But the night also had the effect of raising more questions than what was answered, and Rose could not help but wonder when, or if, those questions would ever be given a proper answer.
