The Gardener of Aria Manor

by A. L. Duncan

  Ilene was standing at the far end of the car in conversation with an older gentleman. When she spied Janie, she swiftly made her way through the standing bodies to Janie’s side. Ilene embraced her tightly, drawing fresh tears from both of them. After a moment, Ilene pulled back and stared into Janie’s hollow eyes.

  Janie looked at each one of the many faces watching her. “Who’s helping these people?” she asked hoarsely. “Who’s paying their way? Who’s paying the way for others?”

  Ilene shook her head.

  A refugee woman reached out to Janie for the baby. Janie turned and looked into her eyes. The woman had a window seat, perhaps she had seen what happened to the mother. Hesitantly, Janie transferred the baby from her protection to that of his new guardian. She gritted her teeth and fought back tears.

  Ilene took her by the arm. “I’d like to introduce you to someone.” Back at the front of the car, she presented the older gentleman to Janie with a hopeful smile. “Janie, this is Juda Einzinger. He’s a rabbi. He has some advice on—”

  Janie swept past Ilene and stepped up to the rabbi, grabbing hold of his coat with urgency. Staring into his eyes, she hoped that he could understand her motivation, her sincerity. She grabbed his hand and slapped the small black velvet pouch into his open palm.

  “Get as many out as you can,” she said. “Do you understand?”

  The rabbi’s brow furrowed as he glanced at the pouch.

  Swallowing hard, she gestured at the bag. “Please, Rabbi. Get as many of your people out of here as you can.”

  The rabbi opened the little bag and poured some of the contents out into his hand. His face showed his shock. Janie brushed past him, patting Ilene’s hand before staggering through the door at the front of the compartment.

  For the first time in her life, Janie felt a desolation of the soul, and a profound curiosity about the gift of life. Who was she that God should save her over a child’s mother, a daughter’s father? Janie had a feeling God didn’t measure such things.

  Part Two

  “Damn all to hell - head, house, and fortune.”

  ~Livy

  Chapter Eleven

  **Review Copy Only -- Not For Sale Or Redistribution**

  RAIN AND FOG blanketed the countryside, weighing a heavy cloak on the already burdened countenance of Janie O’Grady as she was on the long road back to Aria Manor. A silent keep rested behind Janie’s eyes. So withdrawn was she, not two words were spoken since they had disembarked the train. Yet, Janie was of keen wit, her mind not at all distant. On the contrary, she was quite near. And she was quite conscious of her desires. As they neared the manor, her eyes left the rugged coastline and tossing seas to focus briefly on Ilene’s silent concern for her.

  Bartley no sooner opened the heavy wooden door than Janie barged past him, only to stop abruptly at seeing Oliver. He was descending the staircase, a smug smile on his face as he pulled a silver cigarette case from his blazer pocket.

  “Ah, my good Miss Vaughn,” he said. “You’ve something for me, I presume.”

  He had scarcely finished his statement before Janie was upon him, her coattails sailing behind her like the black wings of a vengeful raptor. Ignoring the presence of Liz, Bartley, and Ilene, she grabbed his lapels in both fists, swung him off the last step, and viciously shoved him against the wall. “Yeah, I’ve got something for you.” The left hook to his jaw knocked Oliver to the marble floor.

  Liz gasped. “Jiggers did you see that!”

  Bartley rushed to Oliver, who lay moaning and rubbing his jaw. “She...hit me. Did you see that? She hit me!” Oliver whimpered.

  Teeth clenched, Janie glared at him and shook her aching hand. Turning up the stairs, the wings ascended with her in triumph. She stomped into her room and flung her coat across the chair near the fireplace. At the washstand, she poured water into the basin, then raised an eye to Ilene who followed her in and leaned against the door jamb. Janie slipped her swollen knuckles into the cool water, wincing as streaks of red blood swirled in the basin.

  Ilene cocked her head and sauntered nearer, reaching for Janie’s hand. “Here. Let me take a look at you.”

  “I’m all right.”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  Ilene’s firm grip made it hard for Janie to refuse her.

  “Thought I’d bring you something to scrub up with,” Liz called cheerily, entering the room with a smile and a tray full of miscellaneous first aid items. “You know, after you popped ’im a bloody good one!” She glanced at Ilene’s stern glare. “Sorry, Missus. Must ’ave been an ’ard ’it, though.” She nodded her approval. “Whacking that condescending look off ’is, I mean. That’s a word I learned from the Major’s new dictionary, ‘condescending.’ It means—”

  “I know what it means, Liz,” Janie said.

  “Right.”

  Ilene and Janie exchanged amused glances. “Thank you, Liz,” said Ilene. “You can set the tray down here.”

  Liz placed the tray on a table near the fireplace and curtsied, grinning at Janie’s wink. As Liz left the room Janie obediently gave in to Ilene’s tugging on her arm.

  “Come on. Sit,” Ilene ordered.

  Janie sat before the fireplace and Ilene knelt before her, dabbing peroxide on her skinned and bleeding knuckles with careful attention.

  “I guess you want to know everything about me now,” Janie said after a moment.

  Ilene shook her head.

  “Aren’t you in the least bit curious?”

  “You risked your life to save a man, woman, and child you didn’t even know. You risked your life to save us, and this after you had risked your life to try and save Teddy. You threw away a fortune in diamonds to refugees you met on a train, that anyone else in their right mind would certainly have kept for themselves. As much as you spitefully wish to believe otherwise, there’s not a selfish bone in your body. What else is there about you I need to know?”

  The flickering flames cast a yellow hue across Ilene’s soft features. Janie was enchanted by them. Ilene possessed a calm resilience in the face of the harsh realities of an ugly world. Janie had evidenced the bitter burden that many people carried within them in their defiance to the world around them, and the choices made much to their sorrowful defiance. Then there was Ilene. A woman who remained separate, unswerving in her simple paradise and never once seeming to falter in her faith, remaining loyal and beautifully devoted to something greater than herself.

  “I’m not who you believe me to be, Ilene,” Janie confessed earnestly.

  “Oh? And just who do I believe you to be?” When Janie didn’t answer, Ilene said, “You’re who I see before me. That’s all I need to know.”

  Janie coughed, nervous but doggedly determined to dispose of any untruths between them. “What if I’m some assassin who’s running from the law? Or worse...a mass murderer?”

  Ilene chuckled. “Oh, I doubt that very much.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Your behavior is too much of an open book to anyone who cares to pay attention. Besides, you have too much compassion to be someone who purposely does harm to others.”

  “You’re either incredibly naïve, or you are the most unconditionally loving person on the face of the earth.”

  Ilene made a face. “Hmm. The latter, I hope, if I must choose.”

  Janie inhaled the sweet honeysuckle scent of Ilene as she rose to kiss her. As their lips met, she set the past aside and drank in the absolution so freely offered.

  THE FOLLOWING DAY, Janie was in the greenhouse with her helpers Gil and Michael, repairing the ceiling of its leaks. Janie was in the rear portion which was used as a starter room for lettuce, herbs, tomatoes, and the like. She and Gil were standing atop ladders, tightening down bolts in the newly installed metal frames that would hold the glass panes.

  “That should do it,” Janie said, with one last twist of the wrench. She caught sight of Michael carrying off broken framing and called to him as she started back down t
he ladder,

  “Could you make sure those ventilator arms are still cranking?”

  “Right,” he replied.

  Janie jumped off the second rung, spinning around in surprise when she heard a gasp from behind her. “Oh. Angela. I’m sorry,” Janie said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “No. That’s perfectly all right.” Angela flushed in embarrassment. “It is I who must apologize, Miss Vaughn. I’m afraid my curiosity has led me to wander outside of my allowed boundaries.”

  “Don’t be silly. You’re welcome back here anytime you like. It’s just not as pretty as the conservatory or formal gardens, I’m afraid.”

  “Just what do you do back here, if I may ask?” Angela cast an eye about her surroundings as she followed Janie over to a table.

  “Keep geraniums happy, mostly.” Janie grinned as she reached for a rag to wipe her hands. “This is really Michael and Peanut’s baby. In two months, we’ll start seedlings of the plants and vegetables that are to be put out after the frost.”

  “Sorry. Did you say ‘Peanut’? Such a peculiar name.”

  “Seems to fit her though.” Janie shrugged. “Something I can do for you?”

  “Well, I...was hoping to talk with you about a couple of things, really. Now, I just know you’re not the unsavory type my husband’s used to dealing with,” she said. “I hope my assessment of your character is correct.”

  “If you don’t mind me being frank, Mrs. Vanderholt, just what are you getting at?” Janie frowned. “If this is about punching your husband—”

  “Oh, good heavens, no.” Angela laughed. “If you ask me, he deserves everything he gets. Actually, I found it quite clever how you came up with the idea of diamonds being a more efficient method of payment. However, since you gave the diamonds away in a most unexpected act of charity, I do hope you have another chip with which to bargain.”

  Janie tried to hide her surprise that Angela knew of Oliver’s underhanded dealings as well as her puzzlement at the reference to the need for a bargaining chip.

  “Oh, I’m quite certain those Jews were very thankful,” continued Angela. “However, I wonder...what were they to you? Are you Jewish?”

  A sudden pang of anxiety struck Janie, and she sidestepped the question. She ducked away and feigned interest in a tub of broken pottery. “My father wore gold rings the size of his knuckles and ate the rarest foods in the world, regardless of the price, but it didn’t bother him to step outside the house and find a homeless man frozen to death under the step because his cardboard box was too wet to give him shelter. Despite what you believe of me, Mrs. Vanderholt, I’m not interested in fortune.” Janie tossed the rag aside and began to stack whole clay pots on a tray. “Greed is like venom in the veins. It gives the rich man a belief he can do anything, and the poor man a possession to grasp onto what he’s got left. In the end, it poisons everyone.”

  “A strange sentiment, coming from a thief.” Angela stepped closer and whispered, “No need to worry, Miss Vaughn. Your secret is safe with me. After all, we’re here for the same thing, aren’t we?” Angela looked deeply into Janie’s eyes, as if trying to read the woman within. “Such bitter philosophies from such a pretty face.” Backing away, she added, “You certainly are a strange and intriguing woman, Miss Vaughn.”

  Janie lifted an eyebrow. “I’ve been called worse.”

  “Bitter and cavalier. It certainly has a bit of amiability and charm.” Angela nonchalantly fingered Janie’s vest button while raising a sly eye. “Any chance we could have a more private discussion?”

  “About what?”

  “Perhaps we could go to your room and have a cozy little chat about what other talents you keep hidden, those we might both take pleasure from.”

  Janie smiled. “Thanks. But the Major has given me quite a list of chores.”

  After a moment, Angela shrugged. “Maybe some other time. We’re leaving in the morning, but we’ll be back for Christmas weekend. You’ll have a week to think about it.” She smiled and turned away. Glancing over her shoulder, she added, “You will think about it, won’t you?”

  Janie watched Angela walk away. She rubbed at her neck, perplexed. Why else had she been brought to Aria Manor? What could possibly be more valuable than a million dollars in diamonds? Determined not to concern herself with such mysteries at the moment, she started to turn back to her ladder. From the corner of her eye she spotted another figure. After a double take, she was humored to see Ilene climbing clumsily out of some corner greenery.

  Ilene stomped back to Janie, who was putting away her ladder.

  “I don’t trust Angela Vanderholt as far as I can throw her. I do hope you’re not entertaining the idea of humoring her in any escapade she might have dreamed up.”

  Janie smiled nonchalantly. “Were you eavesdropping?”

  “Of course not. I was just…”

  “Looking for holes in the walls to fit her body parts into after you cut her up into tiny pieces?”

  “Okay, so I followed her down from the manor to see what she was up to. How dare she flirt with you!” Ilene was furious. “She’s always been such a...tart! She can’t even keep her hands off women, for God’s sake!”

  “You shouldn’t take Angela too seriously.”

  “It was quite clear she was trying to get you to...” she lowered her voice, “perform sexual favors.”

  “Oh. Is that what she wanted?”

  “Doesn’t that bother you in the least?”

  Janie shrugged. “It’s flattering, actually.” When Ilene angrily stomped a foot, Janie grinned. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”

  “You’re not taking this seriously,” Ilene protested.

  “I could kiss you.”

  Ilene looked around nervously. “Not here.”

  “Your place or mine?”

  Ilene drew a breath, then grinned darkly. “You’re incorrigible.”

  ANNA LAID OUT a beautiful table of ivory linens to accompany a dinner of quail and simple sides. Janie noted that Oliver was wearing his typical air of snobbery, shoving his food around his plate in tedium. Now and again, he’d scowl at her over the edge of his goblet, which was refilled numerous times. Janie wondered why he was making his dislike for her so obvious. Angela’s attention, on the other hand, was more subtle, but difficult to deflect. The constant demand to keep a brush of the foot or hand from rubbing against her shin or thigh was exhausting. And the flirtation had Ilene’s usually beautiful features twisting into a constant scowl. Janie sighed.

  The Major seemed unaware of the tension in the room as he picked at his half-eaten quail with the delicacy of a coroner for that last smidgen of sweet, dark meat that went so well with the wine.

  “While you were heralding your claims to the delights and disappointments of Vienna, your brother and I were discussing business on the future of Aria Manor,” the Major said after finishing the last morsel.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, my dear, it’s obvious that after I am gone this house will be a large, empty place for you, difficult to manage and all that. Especially now, with things as they are.”

  “And how are they?”

  Oliver cleared his throat and got straight to the point. “What Father is trying to say, Ilene, is that being a widow, with no children, you’ve no need for an estate this size.”

  “I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”

  “Yes, um…” The Major marshaled his thoughts. “I think it’s best that Oliver and Angela reside at Aria Manor and you can move to a more suitable living arrangement, say the place in Bristol. It should be less of a burden for you.”

  “You want me to move into Oliver’s house?”

  “And we’d be out here?” Angela said. “In the middle of nowhere? This is the first I’ve heard of it.” She shot a scathing look at her husband. “My God, this desolate place isn’t at all suitable for any person who wishes to move in social circles. I’d die without the city around me.”
/>
  The Major shook his fork at her. “Nonsense, Angela. Over the years, Aria Manor has had its fair share of parties and gatherings for many of England’s finest titles. And we’re not even a full hour’s ride from many other fine estates.”

  “So now what, we’re to invite our acquaintances to travel half a day from Bristol?”

  “They’ll get used to it,” Oliver muttered.

  “Father, how could you!” Ilene protested. “You promised this house to me.”

  “And Richard,” the Major replied evenly. “It is much more appropriate for Oliver and Angela, with plenty of room for children, when they have them.”

  “I’ve never even considered living anywhere but Aria Manor. This was my mother’s home and it is my home. This is where I grew up, and this is where I want to die.”

  The Major waved off her objections. “Noble sentiments, my dear, but the matter is decided. I’ll hear no more of it.”

  Her father’s dispassionate tone riled Ilene all the more. She stood and threw her napkin on the table in disgust. “Damn it, Father, look at me.”

  “Mind your tongue!”

  “It isn’t right, and you know it! You pride yourself on being a man of your word. I guess that’s a lie.”

  For a moment, his eyes held her gaze sternly, then suddenly his resolve weakened and he looked away. He avoided looking at her as he ripped at a piece of bread. “It’s already done.”

  “What do you mean?” Ilene turned to glare at Oliver, who was gloating. “This is your doing, isn’t it? You’re a manipulative bastard!”