And truth be told, it wasn’t just the awfulness of that man haunting her. It was this ache, as deep and persistent as blight, that weighed down her heart. There hadn’t been anything from Beau—not a telegram, not a word.
What had she expected? He had his sister to console, a company to run. Of course he’d promised his aunt and Lady Em that he would deal with Nelson Taylor, but what could he reasonably do?
“Miss Murray!”
Maddy’s attention was pulled out of the doldrums by the bright sound of a student’s voice. There, standing in the garden, her face as bright as a daisy, was Sylvie LeBlanc. The girl, who’d turned fourteen this year, had arrived at Everwell two years ago, as quiet and inward as a church mouse. It had taken a lot of patience and effort to bring the child out of her shell, formed from years of latent neglect. With her brown wavy hair, fair skin, and lean frame, she was still a girl of few words. To see her waving with an enthusiasm comparable to the more confident students, brought a much-needed smile to Maddy’s face.
This was why Everwell mattered. To give girls like Sylvie somewhere to bloom.
“Good afternoon, Sylvie,” Maddy said, suddenly feeling a sharp tinge of guilt. She’d left the roses in Rimple and Sylvie’s care, and she’d been home three days before even thinking about looking at them.
“I have exciting news,” Sylvie said, casting a glance to Rimple, as if looking for permission to continue, which Rimple granted with a familiar warm smile. “We have managed to isolate the blight. It hasn’t spread, and even better, it’s nearly gone on this bush.”
“It’s gone?” Maddy parroted. “Are you certain?”
“Sylvie’s been out here every day, checking the plants, applying the tonics. She even did a test with two separate plants to see which one worked better,” Rimple said, her facing beaming with pride. “I think Everwell has a budding horticulturist on their hands.”
Sylvie’s cheeks flushed scarlet, but there was an unmistakable sense of pride in her normally reserved looks.
“I can show you,” Sylvie said, turning her body and nodding in the general direction of her handiwork.
“Absolutely,” Maddy said, following the girl, who practically bounced with every step. Soon they came to the spot where Maddy had discovered the blight weeks ago. The place where she’d encountered Beau, idly plucking a rose and putting it in his lapel.
She inspected the stems and the leaves. While the blush pink colour of the flowers were now faded, the shiny deep green of the leaves looked remarkably healthy.
“We removed the worst of it, then I came out and treated the spots,” Sylvie said, pointing out the two bushes where she’d tested two different compounds. One clearly was healthier than the other. “When it seemed that one was working better than the other, we continued the treatment with the entire plant.”
Joy, tinged with bitter sweetness, sat side by side in Maddy’s chest, and she was struck by a curious sense of the passing on of something. That this garden, which she’d guarded so jealously since she first came to Everwell, was no longer just hers anymore. That she didn’t need to be here for her flowers to be loved. And that maybe, they weren’t just her flowers anymore—if they ever were.
And that was just fine.
“Thank you Sylvie,” Maddy said. “This is excellent. I don’t think—no, I am quite certain. I couldn’t have done better.”
If Sylvie had been pink before, she was practically incandescent now.
“I would like to know the recipe that you used,” Maddy said, her mind going to another garden, filled with overgrown roses and sage bushes. A garden that could have been hers, if she’d trusted Beau enough to accept it.
“Miss Jones and I kept excellent notes,” she said, hands clasped behind her back, looking to Rimple with so much pride it made Maddy smile. “I will show them to you.”
What would Rimple make of the big green recipe book at The Grove, Maddy wondered.
“Would you like to work here in the garden with me?” Maddy asked. “On a more regular basis? I could give you a section to look after, and it could be yours. Of course I can help you with it, but it could be yours to be in charge of, to manage as you like.”
Sylvie looked to Maddy, her eyes wide. “Really?”
Maddy nodded. “Really. I can’t think of anyone better.”
Sylvie nodded, her eyes bright, then threw herself at Maddy, wrapping her arms around her and squeezing hard. Maddy, overcome, started blinking back her own tears, patting the girl on her head. After a moment, Sylvie ended her embrace.
“Right,” Maddy said, clearing her throat. “Well, how about you take a look through the garden, and make a list of some areas you might like to take on. Tomorrow I’ll review and decide.”
“Thank you!” Sylvie said, then scurried away, leaving Rimple standing there, hands on her hips.
“What happened to you while you were away?” she asked.
Maddy pasted on a smile, which in itself was probably a mistake.
“Nothing,” she said, feigning nonchalance. “Aside from fixing up an old house to make it livable and trying to keep Beau da Silva out of trouble.” And out of her heart.
