‘Get out of my way, Hicks,’ Drake ground out, without looking up.
Abel tilted his head with curiosity. ‘How long will you be gone?’
Drake looked up. ‘Why do you care?’
Abel’s smile held no warmth. ‘I don’t, but Tilly might need some comforting. And I reckon I’m the man to do it.’
‘Get out of my way.’ Abel’s smile widened, but he still did not move. Drake lost his patience and shouldered his way past him. He headed for the kitchens with Abel’s grating laughter still ringing in his ears.
* * *
Evelyn looked at herself in the mirror, her head tilting with each of Tilly’s slow strokes. Evelyn normally enjoyed the nightly routine of having her hair brushed by Tilly. It was comforting, peaceful and sometimes filled with laughter as a result of hearing Tilly’s gossip from the servants’ quarters. Sometimes Evelyn would share her own thoughts, confident that Tilly would not repeat them, although a protective instinct prevented her from sharing her meetings and feelings for Drake. Tonight, Tilly was unusually silent, which suited Evelyn as her own thoughts were too fragile to absorb trivial gossip and her heart too shattered to carry another’s concerns.
Drake’s parting words kept running through her head as she looked at her own face staring back at her. He had been so angry and upset and she had not been wise enough, or grown up enough, to know how to handle him or understand what he was trying to say. Suddenly it was too late to do either and the damage was done. Perhaps if she had handled it differently she would have provided the comfort he needed. She had failed him when he needed her most.
While she had wittered on about tidying up the glasshouse, too fearful she would lose him if he was dismissed, she hadn’t realised she had already lost him. He saw her in a different light now, a silly child who repelled him. There were moments when he could not look at her. She understood his need to leave, but the rest of it — that he felt nothing for her — that she meant nothing to him. He might as well have ripped out her heart, thrown it on the floor at their feet and ground his heel into it. How old she looked now, she thought as she studied her miserable reflection in the mirror. I have aged ten years. She looked up and realised Tilly was watching her. Her eyes looked as sad as her own.
She realised Tilly had stopped brushing her hair. ‘Thank you,’ said Evelyn.
Evelyn watched Tilly in the mirror as she picked up Evelyn’s discarded dress and hung it up in the wardrobe. How she longed to share her pain with Tilly, but she had never shared her secret friendship with Drake with her before and to do so now, when it had come to an end, seemed to flaunt the fact that she did not trust her with the secret before. Evelyn noticed something slip from Tilly’s apron pocket and flutter to the ground.
‘Tilly.’ The maid turned and their gazes met in the mirror. ‘You have dropped something. Is it for me?’
Tilly bent down slowly, picked it up and held it in her hands for a moment before slipping it into her pocket. ‘No,’ she said, turning away. ‘It is just a list of chores to do. Nothing of great importance.’
She sounds miserable too, thought Evelyn and, despite her own distress, she found herself asking Tilly if she was unwell.
‘I am well, Miss Evelyn,’ replied Tilly.
Evelyn recognised the clipped tone and understood. Tilly had a right to her private life. She would not pry further. Evelyn watched her maid turn away and energetically fold back the bed covers. How she wished she had that energy. Drake’s departure had sucked all of her vitality and joy from her. Somehow, she must learn to survive without him, because one day she was sure that they would meet again and she wanted to be strong enough to bear it.
Chapter Sixteen
1896, Cornwall, England
Glistening pearls of rain balanced precariously on each petal and leaf, as if part of some game of endurance. A slight breeze and the mere touch from an insect coming in to land, was enough to tilt the status quo and the velvet surface beneath. The decorative droplets, perfect in shape and purity, merged into larger ones, drawn together by an invisible force. They began to roll, gaining speed and chaos, as if fleeing from some danger that could not be seen. Falling, falling, one after another onto the ground beneath, absorbed into the earth, their glistening orbs destroyed by the beat of an insect’s wing.
Timmins dragged his eyes away. Sir Robert was expecting him to follow and it would not do to keep his employer waiting. They had spent the morning inspecting the gardens. March, with its late wintery gales, had not been kind to nature’s gifts and the great storm in early July had damaged many trees and several panes in the orangery. However, summer had finally arrived, despite the early morning shower, and now the heat of the sun was providing a comforting hug, which relaxed the muscles, eased the joints and lifted the spirits.
They were heading for the north-east patch, an area laid to grass not a five minute walk from Carrack House. It was flat, too flat to be of visual interest, and its location on the other side of the potting sheds, bothy and glasshouses, made it inaccessible to house guests. However, Sir Robert had a mind to do something with it, which was the main purpose of their meeting today.
The two men surveyed the land. It was a daunting project; even for Timmins who knew all there was to know about gardening. They would have to employ more men, which in itself was a difficult task. It was hard to find reliable workers. Onlythis morning he had dismissed Abel Hicks. He had been a good worker in the past, but in recent times, thanks to his growing fondness for drink, he had become more and more unreliable.
It would also take an artistic flare to design and sculpt the land; yet give the illusion that man had no hand in it. Not for the first time he thought of Drake. He would be twenty-four years old by now. He had completed his basic apprenticeship and, as a journeyman, he had excelled. He had secured work at some of the places the head gardener had recommended, but he’d also made his own connections and his abilities were quickly recognised by others. Soon head gardeners were seeking him out, which was unheard of for someone so young. Timmins acknowledged that Drake was unlike any apprentice he had taught before. He was intelligent and had used his knowledge and connections wisely. He’d spent time at Kew Gardens and on the infamous Warwick Estate and the Duke of Westminster’s Estate, where he drew up plans for the new parkland. Not that Drake kept him up-to-date with his commissions. There had been no communication between them since the day he left six years ago.
News of Drake’s progress came from his mother, who received regular letters from him in the absence of any visit. In fact, Drake had not returned to Cornwall in all the years he had been away and they both carried the blame for this.
Timmins still visited the widow and probably always would, but marriage was out of the question. Their relationship had changed to one of friendship, as both felt the weight of guilt that their previous passion had swept aside. She would never marry him, she had told him once, not unless Drake was ready to accept him. ‘How are father and son ever to reconcile if he will not even speak to me?’ he had argued at the time. Perhaps it was not only Drake who did not want them to marry.
‘I want to make this area somewhere my wife would enjoy,’ said Sir Robert as he surveyed the field. ‘You know the sort of thing; grottos, waterfalls, a gazebo or two. I thought it would encourage her to come outside.’
Rumour had it Lady Pendragon spent much of her time in bed again. Without anyone to lavish her health fears upon she had turned them onto herself. The death of her sister-in-law five years ago, and her brother-in-law, Howard Pendragon, last autumn, did not help matters. Doctor Birch regularly attended her and was often seen in his gig, rattling along the drive with his top hat firmly on his head, his cane held like a staff as if ready to part even the highest biblical waters in his path.
Sir Robert coped by doing what he always did, retreating to his gardens, where any chaos was as a result of cultivation and where every border provided a frame and an order. The tempestuous relationship he had with his brother ended with his death and it left a gaping void Timmins suspected Sir Robert felt more deeply than he cared to admit. It had manifested in the commission of two lions, carved in stone, to be placed on either side of the main entrance to the estate. Both were to be equal in size and roaring as if they were protecting the estate with a fierce loyalty, like brothers-in-arms, Sir Robert had instructed the stonemason.
During their inspection, Sir Robert had also confided in Timmins that he was encouraging a relationship between his daughter and his nephew, Mawgan. It explained why Timmins had seen Mawgan call on Miss Evelyn in recent months and suspected Sir Robert felt an obligation to look after his nephew now that both his parents were dead. Whatever the reason for his matchmaking Timmins felt a sense of relief that all was working out well after all. Miss Evelyn had forgotten about Drake, just as he knew she would and Drake was doing well in his chosen profession.
Perhaps it was this new-found relief and confidence that made him speak of Drake, or perhaps it was the pride of a father wanting to boast of his son’s achievements. Whatever it was, his intentions were as harmless as a beat of an insect’s wing.
