Interlude: I Must Try Something New
MY grandfather is a gardener.
I’m always hearing stories about his amazing talent and how he worked his way to head groundskeeper at Drewett Manor. I was born and raised in the capital because Dad works in the palace gardens, so I’ve never seen Grandpa in the field, but he must really be skilled if Dad says so.
Several years previous, Grandpa retired and moved to the capital too. Dad was surprised that he chose to give up his passion and even leave Drewett, but he ended up taking a job as the gardener for the marquis’s son, Viscount Noel. So he didn’t abandon it entirely.
The viscount’s estate is smaller than Drewett Manor and the palace complex, and the viscount himself doesn’t seem that interested in landscaping, so it is the perfect place for Grandpa to enjoy his retirement.
Though I aim to become a professional gardener myself, I can’t wrap my head around why he still wants to do it after so many decades.
✦ ✦ ✦
🎂🎂🎂
“YOU, come over and help me out sometime,” he says one day.
“What? Why? Are you feeling unwell?”
“I’m fine. The master has requested that I remodel the grounds to the mistress’s liking.”
When I see Grandpa’s small plots, I’m impressed by the seasonal flowers and well-cultivated trees, each strategically planted for the best presentation. I wonder why the viscount wants them remodeled. Half of the property surrounding his mansion is already grassy and level for training exercises. I know a gardener must acquiesce to the desires of his master, but to destroy my grandfather’s efforts seems like such a waste. I am annoyed until I find out that the area to be remodeled is actually the grove of trees in the back garden.
Well, in that case, I can see why he asked for my help. That’s heavy work and he’s no longer young, and I’m big for my age, strong too.
We trim branches, establishing a small path while retaining the majority of the grove’s wildness. We dig out the rocks peppering the trail, and I haul them out of the trees along with the cuttings. Lastly, we lay planks over the dirt. We are usually out of sight when engaged with such remodeling projects, yet for some reason, my normally easygoing grandfather seems serious when he repeatedly warns me not to let the mistress see our work.
I’m already thirteen and have been helping Dad since I was ten, so I know how to be discreet, but why must we hide from Viscountess Noel? Is she a fussy woman?
I start to imagine her as quite strange although I’ve never met her in person.
✦ ✦ ✦
🎂🎂🎂
“I’VE never seen that before.”
We’ve finished our remodeling project, and I am in the process of transplanting flowers to the front garden when a voice suddenly sounds beside me.
I jump, twisting around to see a girl with scarlet hair. “Whoa!”
“Huh?” She blinks at my startled voice, and her eyes are a sparkling golden color I’ve never seen before. They rather resemble the buttercups Dad loves to grow. She peers around me to examine the flowers I’ve been repotting, then studies the blossoms in my hands.
My fingers tremble. Since I assist Dad at the royal palace, I’ve seen my fair share of beautiful noblewomen, but I’ve never seen anyone as pretty as the girl. “Erm, you mean this?”
“Yes.”
“This is santolina.”
“Santolina. It’s so fuzzy.”
Santolina are known for their thin silver-white leaves and round yellow flowers, and I suppose they do appear fuzzy.
Fuzzy? What a cute word. They are fuzzy. And cute. I glance at the girl again as she crouches beside me. I must stop staring. I return my gaze to the blooms as a small, slender hand reaches for mine… Huh?
“Where is the old grandfather?”
“H-Huh? Y-You mean Grandpa?”
Wait, did one of my flowers just disappear…? What?
“The old grandfather. The gardener.”
“O-Oh, I think he’s around here somewhere… H-Hey, what’s your name?”
“Abigail. Oh! Tabitha! Tabitha’s calling!”
“Huh? W-Wait!”
The girl leaps to her feet and races away, her long skirt streaming like the fins of the fish in the palace pond. Wow! She’s so fast?! Wait, she said someone is calling her? But I didn’t hear anything?!
“…Abigail,” I whisper.
She’s a little shorter than me, so maybe she’s my age. Or a year older. She wasn’t dressed like a maid. Maybe an apprentice? But her clothes looked expensive. Is she one of the viscount’s relatives? I’m certain Marquis Drewett has two sons.
When Grandpa returns from the bathroom to find me staring blankly into space, he hits me on the head, scolding me for coming to the front garden.
Weren’t you the one who told me to bring the flowers here?!
“G-Grandpa? Let me know whenever you need help.”
“What? Oh, I’m good for now.”
Soon after that encounter, he finishes the woodland, and I don’t get the chance to see Abigail for a while. I still visit him after school and on weekends, but he doesn’t ask for my help.
I wonder if she’s still at the viscount’s estate. If she’s his relative, perhaps she was just visiting and has since gone home.
But she called Grandpa “the old grandfather,” which makes me suspect that she lives there.
✦ ✦ ✦
🎂🎂🎂
“OH? You’ve been coming over very early recently,” comments Grandma when I stop by one day.
“Where’s Grandpa?”
“He’s already left for work.”
“Damn it.”
Gardeners start so early. I have the day off from school but helped Dad at his job, and although I worked doubly hard to finish quickly, I’m too late.
Grandma, leaning against the doorway, sighs in exasperation. “I’ve baked cookies; can you bring them to hi—”
“Yes! This bag, right?! I’m heading out, then!”
“Ah, wait!” Calling after me, she reminds me to keep out of sight, and I wave the bag of cookies in response.
Although a commoner, I’m allowed to pass through the gate that separates the district where Grandpa lives from the noble quarter because I live on palace grounds. Viscount Noel’s mansion lies near the edge of the noble district, and if I run, I can get there in no time.
And I’m a fast runner, if I do say so myself.
I stop to catch my breath at the estate’s side entrance, then greet the gatekeeper who waves me through. Viscount Noel is a powerful military man and never needed such security, but after marrying, he hired the guard for his wife’s safety.
I stand on tiptoe to peek over the hedge concealing the gardener’s shed and toward the front garden, and there! I glimpse a head of smooth, shiny red hair.
My hand tightens on the bag of cookies.
Grandpa and Abigail are crouching in front of a flowerbed. It’s unfair how close he is to her. What are they looking at? I want to join them, but they’re in the front garden, which I’ll be reprimanded for entering. Maybe if I call out to Grandpa, they’ll come to me instead.
Still on tiptoe, I strain my ears, listening to his relaxed voice and her high and soft one. So unfair. Why does he get the chance to talk to her?!
“Old Grandfather, Old Grandfather! I’ve never seen this before.”
I know that one! It’s sweet pea! It’s a new variety Grandpa just— Huh? What?! Why is he holding her hand?!
In the blink of an eye, he’s grasped one of Abigail’s small hands. I had no idea he could move that fast! Wait, why is he doing that—
“You can’t eat that, my lady.”
Can’t eat what? Was she trying to eat something? Huh? What’s going on? But wait. What?
“My lady?” I repeat.
Did he call her “my lady”? As in Viscountess Noel?
And Viscount Noel is so big and tall. Isn’t the size difference between them too extreme?
Just then, a tall man exits the mansion, and I freeze, my jaw probably still agape.
The viscount, his long, black hair tied loosely behind him, easily lifts Abigail and settles her on one arm. Though I’m standing some distance away, I see his eyes crinkle as he smiles at her.
Huh? He’s smiling? He appeared so severe and cross the last time I saw him that I guessed him close to Dad in age, yet he seems younger as he gazes at her.
But-But-But he still looks much older than her…
“My lord, my lord! I’ve never eaten this before.”
“It’s not edible.”
He’s right, you can’t eat that! Wait, she called him “my lord”!
“It can’t be… Gyah!” He’s staring at me! I feel a sharp spark as our eyes meet, and I tumble to the ground.
Whoa, huh? He looked so scary!
What was that?! It seemed so childish?! But he’s an adult?! Terrifying!