Davina offered her a small smile. “That only makes me want tae see it more.”
Ailis sighed, then gestured for her to follow. “Very well. But dinnae say I didnae warn ye.”
With the guards trailing unobtrusively behind, they walked through the archway. Davina drew in a slow breath. The garden was a jungle… a beautiful, wild, crumbling jungle.
Vines strangled the stone benches. Thistles and tall grasses swallowed the paths. A once-proud fountain stood cracked and half-filled with rainwater, choked by algae and fallen leaves. Bushes and hedges had grown into tangled walls, blocking sunlight from patches of earth. The remnants of what must have once been flower beds were buried beneath years of neglect.
And yet, Davina’s heart swelled, because beneath the wildness, beneath the mess, she could see the bones of something magnificent. She could see a place where color once thrived, where someone had loved every plant, every stone, every leaf.
“This…” she breathed, stepping forward, brushing aside an overgrown branch, “this was beautiful once.”
Davina knelt, running her fingers over the soil beneath the weeds. It was rich earth, not too dry and not too rocky. There was so much potential.
“Oh, Ailis,” she whispered, “I can see the garden that used tae be here.”
Ailis’s eyes softened. “I kent ye would, me lady.”
Davina stood again, turning slowly in a full circle. Her mind spun with possibilities: paths cleared, flowers blooming again, vines trimmed, the fountain restored.
“It will take time,” she said softly. “A great deal of it. But the life is still here.”
Ailis smiled. “Then ye’ve come tae the right place, me lady. The castle could use someone tae bring a wee bit of life back.”
“I think I’d like tae try,” she said. “Nay matter how long it takes.”
Davina tucked a stray curl behind her ear and stepped deeper into the garden. “Ye ken, Ailis,” she said, her voice brightening despite the winter chill, “I can already see where the lilies should go. Over there, near the fountain. They like damp soil. And the roses… oh, roses would thrive along the south wall where the sun warms it.”
Ailis blinked at her, surprised and delighted. “Ye’ve already thought this through.”
Davina laughed softly. “I cannae seem tae help it. Me maither keeps a large garden at home, and she taught me everything. Iused tae help her tend the herbs and prune the roses. It always felt like… like creating something alive with yer own hands.”
“And ye plan tae plant roses here, me lady?”
“Aye, wild Highland roses, if we can find them. They’d climb beautifully over that old trellis.” She pointed to what was now a sagging wooden arch half-swallowed by vines. “And heather, too. And foxglove. Oh, and violets! They grow well in shade.”
Ailis chuckled. “Well, at this rate, ye’ll need an army of gardeners.”
“Dae we have gardeners?” Davina asked hopefully.
“Aye,” Ailis said, “but they’re usually busy with other work. The laird’s been stretching everyone thin since he took charge. The garden’s been a lost cause tae them.”
Davina’s determination sharpened. “Then let’s give them a cause again.”
Ailis’s smile widened. “Come on, then.”
They returned to the bailey with the two guards shadowing them silently. Ailis led Davina toward the far side of the yard where two gardeners, Gregor and Iain, were hauling sacks of grain to the stables.
Davina’s steps faltered. “Oh… they’re daeing something important.”
“That’s mucking stalls, me lady,” Ailis whispered back. “Important, aye, but nae their usual work.”
Gregor spotted them first and straightened, wiping his hands on his tunic. “Ailis? And, me lady.” He bowed quickly. “What brings ye out here?”
Before Davina could speak, Ailis lifted her chin with unmistakable authority. “The new Lady Kincaid has instructions fer ye both.”
The two men exchanged startled glances. Then Gregor’s weathered face brightened with interest. “Instructions? Fer the garden?”
Iain nodded eagerly. “We noticed ye were looking at it. It’s been years since anyone has.”
