Garden of Hope

by Daphne Bloom

  When the maid opens the back door and Henry turns to me, I have to stop and catch my breath. Had I forgotten how handsome he is? Or is he simply so handsome he takes my breath away every time I see him? He smiles at me and for a moment, I think he must be as happy to see me as I am to see him. But then I think I must be mistaken. Can anyone really think so highly of me?

  I clear my throat and try to smooth my dress and hair as I cross the veranda toward him and see that he is holding a budding stem wrapped in a cloth.

  “What is that?” I ask him.

  He seems a little flustered for a moment before holding it out to me. “A cutting from my mother’s prize-winning dahlia.”

  “Really?” I ask. I open the cloth and hold the cutting up to the light, trying to see the color of the buds.

  “Well, our gardener did all the work,” he says. “But my mother received the credit I guess. I don’t really know anything about garden shows.”

  I nod. “That is often the way of it. Few ladies get their hands dirty rearing their own plants. But many gardeners work under the direction of their ladies. Your mother must know quite a bit about flower rearing.”

  “I…uh…I suppose that’s possible.” I look up and see that his smile has faltered a little and I think I must have misspoken again.

  “I should get this into some water,” I say. I go over to the greenhouse to fetch a small vase, which I fill with water from a nearby pump. When I’m done, I dust off my hands and see that Henry is still standing there, and he seems a bit uncomfortable. I rush back to his side.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I get distracted.”

  “It’s no problem,” he says. “I’m sure it’s not healthy for the cutting to be exposed for too long.”

  “Yes,” I say. “Exactly right.”

  “Well, I just wanted to see you… Umm, I mean, thank you. For the gift. The gift you sent.”

  “Oh!” I say, remembering that I did send that over. “Yes, I hope you find the items useful. It’s been an eventful day. I nearly forgot I sent it.”

  “Oh?” he asks. “I should like to hear about your day if you wish to tell me.”

  “My sister Elise had her baby,” I say. “Another girl.”

  “Congratulations,” he says. “Do give her my regards. Quite a happy event.”

  “Not really,” I say. “My father now has three daughters and five granddaughters—not a boy in sight. Elise is afraid to tell him. Afraid that the disappointment might be too much for him to bear.”

  Henry sighs. “I am sorry to hear that. And sorry for the baby. No child should have so much pressure, such responsibility put upon them.”

  “I agree,” I say. “My sisters are smart and beautiful, and both married well. My father should be grateful to have such heirs.”

  “And you,” he says. “He has three capable heirs.”

  I bust into a laugh. “If only that were true!” I then realize that Henry isn’t laughing. “You’re serious?”

  “Lady Lily,” he says, his brow furrowed, “I don’t know who has put it into your head that you are not a fine lady worthy of respect, but let me tell you, you are. You are just as pretty and clever as your sisters. Prettier, I should say.”

  I am so confused by his words. I think he is sincere, but how can he believe such a thing? I don’t mean to be rude, to say the wrong things, to act unbecoming, but I do. I’m not like other society girls. I’m fine with that. I am what I am. I would be happy far from society, in a garden cottage. But to say I am on equal footing with other society girls, well…it’s simply not true. So why would he say such things?

  “I don’t understand why you say such things,” I say, my head dropping. “I suppose I’m too stupid.”

  “No!” he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me closer to him. “I say them because they are true. You are beautiful. And you are clever. I don’t know anyone who knows as much about plants as you do. That’s quite a talent, and I love hearing you talk about your garden.”

  I dare to raise my head a bit, though I can’t quite look him in the eyes. “You do?”

  “Please don’t think I’m merely a blind fool in love,” he goes on. “I know you…have challenges. But so do I. And if you are willing to overlook my lame and broken body, I can easily accept all of you, even your foibles.”

  Did I hear him correctly? Did he say that he…loved me? Is it possible? I always thought a man would only want to marry me for my money. To marry for love is something I thought far beyond my reach.

  “Did…did you say you—”

  “Cousin Lily!” I look around Henry to see Albert approaching, his smile tight. Henry drops my hand and steps back. I hadn’t realized just how close together we were.

  “I’ve been looking for you, my dear,” he says, rushing up to my side and taking my hand in his, pulling it to his mouth for a kiss.

  “Hello, Albert,” I say, jerking my hand back and wiping it on my dress. He grimaces but tries to hide it with another quick smile as he turns to Henry.

  “I don’t think we’ve met,” Albert says to Henry, holding his hand out for a shake. “Albert Crenshaw, Lord Derby’s nephew and heir.”

  “Distant nephew,” I mumble, but I think Henry must have heard me since he smirks.

  “Henry, Lord Pembroke’s son.” The two shake hands ever so quickly.

  “Ah, yes,” Albert says. “I’ve heard of you. You were injured terribly in India, weren’t you? Crippled, even.”

  My eyes go wide. I’m hardly one to talk, but his words seem horribly rude to me.

  “For king and country,” Henry says.

  “Indeed,” Albert says. “Your cane is quite fine. You’ll have to let me know who made it. When I am old and decrepit I shall have to request one for myself.”

  “Albert!” I snap.

  Henry raises his hand to stop me. “I’ll be sure to have that information sent over. Though, it was quite expensive. Hopefully you’ll receive your cousins’ inheritance so you can then purchase one yourself.”

  Albert frowns hard and I think I can hear his teeth grinding. But then he clears his throat and straightens his cravat. “An inheritance is an inheritance, is it not? Where would any of us be without the generosity of our forefathers?”

  “How can you be so coarse?” I ask him. Does he not know how rude it is to speak so plainly of money in front of a guest? But Henry only laughs.

  “You might be able to inherit money, but one can hardly inherit manners, can they?”

  Albert’s face is bright red now and he clenches his fists. I think he might wish to come to blows with Henry. I step between them and open my mouth to say something, but Constance comes screaming across the yard.

  “Lily! Lily! Albert!”

  I go to her. “What’s wrong?” I think it must be the baby.

  “Nothing!” she says. “Nothing at all! I just received this telegram. It’s Papa.”

  My heart seizes and my breath catches in my throat.

  “He’s awake!”

  I let out the breath I was holding and my head feels a little dizzy. I hold onto Constance’s arms for support. “He’s awake?”

  “Yes!” Constance says. “Mama says that he is awake and talking. She says that she thinks he is going to pull through.”

  Constance and I embrace and I let out tears of relief. He’s alive. He’s going to pull through. This changes everything. Or should I say nothing? Perhaps life can go back to normal. I can return home and not have to worry about getting married…

  Unless…

  If Henry were to ask me, would I still say yes? Before, I had only met him, only considered marriage because I had to. But if life resumes as usual, if I could go home and live as a spinster away from society with no plans for marriage…would I? If marriage was truly a choice, would I choose it?

  “That’s…wonderful news,” Cousin Albert says through a tight jaw. “What else does Aunt Catherine say? Are we to return to her?”

  “She doesn’t
say,” Constance says, looking at the telegram again. “But I suppose we must. I am anxious to see him.”

  “As am I,” I say. I wonder if this will change anything. Will things return to normal? Me without an inheritance, only a dowry, being pursued by Cousin Albert? Or will Papa see his near-death as a call to give me my dowry without marriage? He only denied me before because he thought there was plenty of time for me to still marry. But now, after I came so close to becoming a penniless relation, will he see the logic in making sure I am left financially secure?

  I cannot make any decision now. There’s too much going on. My head is spinning and feels hot. I need to return home, see what Papa has to say, then I can consider the topic of marriage again.

  “I’m not feeling well,” I tell Constance. She gives me a smile and squeezes my hand.

  “Of course, darling. You lie down and I will have the servants pack so we can begin the journey home.”

  “Thank you,” I tell her. I turn to Henry. “Thank you for the dahlia.”

  “Of course,” he says with a slight bow. “I’m very glad your father has recovered.”

  I have a feeling there is more he wants to say, but he does not continue. I give him a nod as I return to the house to prepare for the journey home.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Henry

  I want to follow her. To ask her to marry me now, before she is gone. But as she walks away, I feel my courage slip away. She wouldn’t possibly agree. Not now. She had only been in London for the Season to find a husband because she thought her father was going to die. Now that he has recovered, why would she settle for a man such as me?

  “Excuse me,” says Albert, that obnoxious little man who clearly only wants Lily for her money, “I must prepare to return as well.”

  “Yes,” I say. “You must make sure your inheritance is still all in one piece and that Lord Derby isn’t going to give Lily her fair share.”

  I’ve clearly hit a nerve, but then Albert’s anger melts away to a haughty superiority. “You don’t know Lily as I do. I know what’s best for her, as does her father. You can’t possibly understand her.”

  “I understand enough to know that she’d rather live as a pauper than your wife,” I say. “If she was truly that desperate for money she’d have married you already.”

  “What?” Albert says.

  “This can’t come as a shock to you,” I prod. “She can’t stand to be anywhere near you. It’s clear on her face.”

  “Nonsense!” Albert says. “That’s just Lily being the odd little duck she is.”

  I chuckle. “You know, if there is one thing being injured has taught me, it is how to tell when a woman can’t stand to be in my presence. And believe me, Lily would rather be anywhere in the world than in the same room as you.”

  “Even in the arms of a cripple?” Albert shoots back, and I have to admit that the words sting, but I retain my composure. “Can you even sire a child? Can you be a proper husband?”

  I turn to walk back through the house to depart. “As I said, not an ounce of manners.”

  My foot catches on something and before I can stop myself, I’m falling to the ground. I put out my hands to stop the fall, but when I land, there is a searing pain through my back.

  “Oh, my dear fellow!” I know it’s Albert, but I’m nearly blinded by the pain.

  “Henry!” Lily’s voice. “What happened?”

  “He tripped. You know how feeble he is—”

  “You tripped him!”

  “No! It was an accident—”

  There’s more yelling between Lily and Albert that I can’t follow as a footman and then my valet come to my side.

  “Lie down, sir,” my valet says. “We’ve already sent for a doctor.”

  I try to lie back as I gasp for air and see sparks in my eyes. Then Lily’s lovely face appears, her blonde hair falling around her. She’s holding my hand next to her cheek.

  “Hold on, Henry… Just hold on…”

  “You’re killing me!” I yell as Dr. Patel lifts my leg to stretch it.

  “Well, if you’d been doing this all along it wouldn’t hurt so much.” The doctor, who is an affable half-Indian man, apparently owns a popular Turkish bath where he also offers certain types of Eastern therapies, such as steam rooms and acupuncture. I’m not brave enough to go for that, though.

  After my fall, Alice and Mother would not take no for an answer and insisted that I try new methods to improve my leg and back. At the time, I was so weak I couldn’t protest. Now, I have the strength to protest, but I suppose that means the therapy is working. I gripe and complain but have been following the doctor’s orders as well.

  “That’s enough for today,” the doctor says as he lays my leg out flat.

  “Thank the Lord.”

  He chuckles. “Roll over, I want to rub some of this oil on you.” He shakes up the contents of the bottle of oil and herbs that Lily sent over.

  “Do you think it will do any good?” I ask as I settle in for the more relaxing portion of my daily doctor appointments.

  “You will have to tell me,” he says. “These sorts of concoctions help some people, but they aren’t quite strong enough for others.”

  I’m not sure if it is the massage or the oil, but I do start to relax. And I hate to admit that the therapies seem to be helping. I chalk it up to the skill of the doctor. He says he learned his techniques from his father and I can’t help but wonder if I could have been healed back in India if my comrades had enlisted the aid of a native healer. I wasn’t conscious for most of that time, but my understanding is that they turned only to the British doctors, who didn’t have the tools they needed to help me, so that is why I was sent home. Well, water under the bridge now.

  “What do you think, doctor?” I ask after a few minutes.

  “About what?” he asks, and I have come to notice he has a rather dry sense of humor. I know he’s only trying to rile me, but I don’t give in.

  “Do you think I’ll ever heal?” I ask.

  “Depends on what you mean,” he says. “Will you improve? Yes. Will you be back to your old self? Probably not.”

  “Do you think I’ll ever…have children?”

  “Do you want to have children?” he asks, and I scoff.

  “Don’t we all?”

  “Children are not necessary for survival. They can be a joy, yes, but only for those who truly want them. I wouldn’t recommend anyone have a child for the sheer novelty of it.”

  “Hmm. If only inheritance laws saw things your way. As it is, I’m practically under orders by my father to have a son as quickly as possible.”

  “It will not happen quickly,” the doctor says. “But I think it could happen.”

  “Really? You’re more optimistic than the other doctors I saw.”

  “You are free to seek another opinion.”

  “No, I rather like yours.”

  At that, the doctor helps me get up and dressed before taking his leave. George enters the room soon after.

  “So, how are you feeling?”

  “Better,” I say. “Surprisingly better. The doctor is optimistic.”

  “Well, that’s excellent. Good to hear.” He crosses the room and looks out the window. He clearly has something on his mind.

  “What is it?”

  “Mr. Davenport sent a message,” he says. “He said that he and his family wished to meet with you and Father when you are up to receiving visitors.”

  “You must be joking,” I say. “They heard that a little fall in a garden sees me laid up for days and they still want to discuss a match?”

  “I have a feeling they must think you will be desperate to make a match,” he says. “The Season is ending, everyone is returning to their country estates. If you don’t accept Julia you’ll be hard-pressed to find anyone else.”

  “Perhaps,” I say. “But I’m feeling surprisingly fit. I might not be as desperate as they hope.”

  “I am glad to hear it
, brother,” he says. “But if that is the case, might I encourage you to accept Julia Davenport?”

  “What?” I ask. “That little fortune-hunting child? Why would I?”

  “Because if you are, indeed, feeling hale and hearty, Julia will make a fine wife. A fine Lady Pembroke. She would be keen to have a child quickly to secure her place in the family.”

  “Oh,” I say, shaking my head. “You are afraid I’m going to ride off and marry Lily, is that it?”

  “If you pursue Lily, especially after you seem to be improving, Father will be furious.”

  “He should be glad of my fall, then,” I say. “I was so close to proposing to her. At least if her doughy cousin hadn’t interrupted us. I all but declared my love for her.”

  “You didn’t!” George asks, alarmed.

  “I did!” I can feel how widely I’m grinning. The thought of riding up to Derby Hall and asking Lily to marry me fills me with an excitement I haven’t felt since my accident.

  “Well, forget about her,” George says. “Perhaps you should thank her cousin for interrupting. He kept you from making a mistake.”

  “What do you have against her?” I ask. “She’s sweet, kind, clever in her own way. I think she would make me happy.”

  “And I thank her for opening your eyes to the fact that you can find love,” George says. “I have nothing against her myself. If it were up to me, I’d give you my blessing. But as it is, it isn’t up to me. You need Father’s approval. And now, look at you. This is probably the first time I’ve seen you since your return that your face wasn’t twisted in pain.”

  “Then why deny me the woman I want?”

  “Because you can do better,” George says. “Lily is a sweet girl, but she’s not a countess. Julia is. Or, if you don’t want Julia, wait a year and find someone else. If you are able to walk without a cane next year, you’ll have your pick of ladies.”