The Gardener of Aria Manor

by A. L. Duncan

  “We shouldn’t be speaking of such things so early in the morning,” Ilene chided. “I suggest a change of subject.”

  “You’re absolutely right, my darling.” The Major tossed down his fork and rose from his seat. “What say you, Carolyn? Let us be on with our morning, shall we?”

  Janie dashed up to her room to get a pair of gloves. As she stepped into the hallway, she saw Liz with an ear pressed against Oliver’s door. As Janie took up a position beside her, Liz gasped in surprise and pulled herself upright.

  Seeing it was Janie, she expelled a sigh of relief. “Oh! It’s only you.”

  “Thanks,” Janie replied dryly.

  Liz grabbed hold of Janie’s coat sleeve and yanked her down to the door. “You’ve got to hear this.”

  “Liz,” Janie stood up, “they fight all the time.”

  “I know.”

  “So?”

  “But this is a really big fight. I think Angela’s goin’ to pop ’im!”

  Janie frowned. “The Major’s waiting for me, Liz.”

  Liz yanked her down. “Just listen, will you?”

  “Oliver, I want a divorce,” Angela popped off to Oliver.

  “A divorce!”

  “Yes. Your vain pretensions bore me.”

  “You’re reaching.”

  “Of course I am. Give me something more colorful to call you on. You’re worse than a premenstrual cramp. Why does it matter? I want a damn divorce.”

  “You cry wolf! I don’t believe you.”

  “I’m quite serious this time.”

  “After all I’ve done for you, Angela? Given you everything!”

  “Everything but what I really need!”

  “The bloody Queen hasn’t the jewelry I’ve given you!”

  “Oliver, it’s not about the jewelry. It’s about you.”

  “Why, you sanctimonious little bitch,” he seethed. “You’d be nothing without me. Where would you go? Back to mummy?”

  It was a long while before either of them spoke again, and Janie wondered whether Oliver had scored the knockout punch with his smug assumption that Angela had nowhere else to go. When she finally responded, her voice was almost inaudible through the door.

  “What if I told you there was somebody else?”

  Oliver’s laugh conveyed his contempt. “Trying to shock me? Who is it this week, darling?”

  “Someone who makes me feel all tingly inside.”

  Janie coughed and blushed.

  “Oh, you have some nerve.” Oliver’s pacing was audible through the door. “Who the devil is he, hmm? Is it Bartholomew, my assistant?”

  “Good God, no. He’s a damned, blundering fool who can’t even tie his own shoe laces.”

  After a moment’s thought, he said, “Oh...not Kensington!”

  “Lord Kensington?” Angela laughed. “He’s worse than you are. He cares for no one and nothing except his seat in Parliament. And he only has that by hanging on the coattails of the members that he kisses up to on an hourly basis. My God, Oliver, do you honestly believe I would be attracted to such simpering fools?”

  “Who, then?”

  One of them hit the door with a thud and startled Liz and Janie, who stepped away. Eyeing each other nervously, they returned to their listening post.

  Angela’s voice, deliberately pitched low and sensual, said, “Sometimes all a lover has to do to get me wet is to embrace me tenderly and whisper in my ear.”

  Janie bolted upright and clapped a hand to her face.

  “You’re disgusting,” Oliver growled. “And...bewitching.”

  The eavesdroppers in the hallway stood in opened mouth surprise at the sounds of shuffling feet followed by the squeaking of bed springs.

  Liz giggled. “Jiggers, this is the best one yet.”

  Remembering her errand, and not wanting to hear the more intimate sounds that were likely to ensue, Janie pushed away from the wall and hurried to her room for her gloves.

  She met the Major at the front door.

  “Where’s Oliver?” he asked, looking up the staircase to see whether his son was following her.

  With forced nonchalance, Janie pushed him out the door. “He’s coming.”

  THE MORNING SUN was a pale ball that rarely pierced its way now and again through the dense veil of fog which had settled across the rolling land. After the trio had walked about two miles in silence, Janie fell back with the mule drawn cart to allow Oliver and his father to talk as they strode down the long berm toward a wooded glen. Through the chilled mist, vague features of tree trunks stood as sentinels, silent and distant. Janie lifted her eyes to the sky, but the gray persisted. Gil had said that it would be a day of blue skies. After almost a year of experiencing his undeniable accuracy, she had come to respect his predictions. So, with confidence that the fog would lift, she trudged forward, grateful to be wearing the sweater Ilene had given her for Christmas.

  Janie’s attention shifted to the conversation wafting back to her. The words were just barely audible, but she could tell that they were talking about Angela’s behavior. Oliver seemed genuinely concerned about Angela’s threats, and the Major was quite zealously expounding on a man’s role in marriage. As Janie looked at his profile she was again taken by a deep sensation of familiarity. She suddenly became very wary of the Major. A vein on his temple throbbed and his jaw tightened in a clench ridden with anxiety.

  “A woman’s fidelity is the only proof a husband needs of her loyalty, Oliver,” The Major said. “Tainted, then she has stained his soul and disgraced his inheritance. Trust her never more.”

  “Father, I’m certain it’s just another one of her ploys to—”

  The Major stopped walking, grabbed Oliver by the arm, and fixed him with a stern eye. “You listen to me. If a wife does not give her husband her full devotion, if she does not obey him, then he had best rid himself of such a strumpet whose unnatural ways are of the Devil!”

  “Unnatural? Listen, you’re just—”

  “Do you hear me?” The Major’s eyes were dark and hollow. “I will rid your mother of her visitor this evening. Her bags will be packed and she will be sent away, never to return to Aria Manor!”

  “What the hell are you babbling about?”

  “I will have no more arguments on the subject! This demon must leave, lest it swallow our family into Hell.”

  Oliver grabbed his father’s arms and stared into his eyes. “Look at me. What on earth has gotten into you? Look at me! Where are you? Mother is dead. Do you hear me? She is dead.”

  Unresponsive, The Major looked away. After a moment, he met his son’s worried eyes and drew himself to a militarily rigid pose. Ripping Oliver’s hand from a sleeve, he barked, “Take your hands off me. I’m perfectly fine. What has gotten into you, Oliver?”

  Janie thought he must be in the grip of a fever again. “Maybe we should forgo the hunting and go back—”

  “I said I’m all right. These tracks are fresh. We’re too near the blasted buck to turn back now. It’s here somewhere, and I’m going to find it!” He tugged on his vest. “If we split up, we will have more of a chance of flushing him. You two deploy out to either side of center and then move inward in a pincer movement.”

  Oliver glanced over at Janie, then moved off to the left.

  The Major clutched his cane, readjusted his grip on the rifle, and swiftly stepped into the obscurity directly ahead.

  Thinking it was the Major’s way of dealing with his obvious embarrassment, Janie thought it best to give him time to discern his own faculties. She disappeared into the bank of fog off to the right. All was silent, except for the occasional twig that snapped under her weight. “Some hunter I’d make.”

  Now and again Janie spied Oliver several yards away, moving out of the brush, then disappearing within a pocket of fog. She could tell from his drawn features that he was likely thinking about his father, not too awfully interested in wrestling up a buck. He wasn’t the caring type of man concerned, out
of love, for a man he may have idolized. Janie felt Oliver was more the self-centered type to question the idea of sanity and whether or not he might inherit it.

  It was midday, and despite Gil’s prediction, the fog still swirled thickly. Janie heard sounds of animals, but did not spy any game.

  Janie, hearing a rustling in the brush, spun about. It was only a rabbit. “It’s your lucky day.”

  The rabbit moved back into the brush. Janie smiled and glanced up, meeting the deep, dark eyes of a twelve-point buck. Suddenly, its head turned away with a startled expression. Janie twisted and stared into the patchy mist at a rifle pointed directly at her as the buck pranced back into the shadowy reaches.

  The Major fired the weapon. Oliver’s figure had emerged from the brush between his father and Janie, catching the bullet in his leg. Oliver flailed upon the grassy field, crying out in agony. Janie ran over to Oliver’s sprawled form. He was writhing in pain, clutching his right thigh. She pulled off her coat and knelt beside him, then turned him onto his back. “Lie still,” she ordered, pressing her folded coat against his bleeding wound.

  The Major hobbled into view. The look on his face bespoke his terror. “Oliver!” he gasped.

  His blank eyes met Janie’s with a questioning look as he said, “I...I didn’t...”

  “You damned old fool!” Oliver whined. “You shot me!”

  Janie gazed into the Major’s eyes. They showed shock, and a lack of recognition. Sighing deeply, she turned away and tended Oliver’s wound.

  “Denys, you may want to give me the gun and go get the cart.” Casting a look in his direction, she added more authoritatively, “Did you hear me, Denys?”

  Numbly he met her eyes as he handed her the rifle. In the next instant, lucid eyes stared back at her and his composure returned. He abruptly spun on his heel and marched back up the hill. She watched until his figure was lost in the gray matter before she removed her belt and turned back to Oliver.

  Oliver growled at his circumstances. “I know I should have taken that damned rifle away from him when his eyes first glazed over into nothingness.”

  She eyed the bullet hole “You got lucky. Looks like the bullet went clean through.”

  “How would you know?”

  “Because there’s an exit wound, Oliver.”

  “Oh.”

  “When you live in a big city, you learn a thing or two about gunshot wounds. Hold still,” she directed. She wrapped the belt around his leg to act as a tourniquet. “This might hurt.” She yanked the belt tightly.

  An awful howl emitted across the dale from Oliver’s agony. “I bet you enjoyed that,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Not really.”

  “Funny. I’d have thought you’d enjoy seeing me bleed to death.”

  “Knocking you out and wanting you dead are two different things. I’ve seen enough death to last me a lifetime.”

  “What’s the matter, Carolyn, haven’t the stomach anymore?”

  Janie stood, then stepped over him to search for a stick. She found a likely one and broke it in two over her knee.

  “You really hate me, don’t you?” he asked.

  “Well, Oliver, you make it hard not to.”

  He sighed and dropped his head. “That’s what my wife says. She wants to divorce me.”

  Using the sticks as splints, Janie placed them on either side to immobilize his leg then tied them in place with her coat sleeves. “If you’d get your head outta your ass, you might notice there are other people in this world besides you.”

  “I’m quite sure Angela’s already bedded all of them.”

  Janie chuckled at his truculent reply. “Don’t believe women who boast. They’re usually just blowing hot air. Still, any way I look at it, you deserve everything you get.”

  “Is that supposed to be a friendly assessment?”

  “Take it however you like. No one ever demanded respect and had it brought to them on a silver platter. You have to earn it. That’s my mother’s teaching.”

  “I never really knew my mother.”

  Without thinking, Janie said, “She had many wonderful qualities.” Oliver’s glare of confusion made her backtrack quickly. “At least...that’s what I’ve been told.”

  The sound of wheels dragging through the soft earth drew their attention to the top of the berm. The Major and the mule cart were visible through the parting mists.

  “Transport has arrived,” said Janie. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and hauled him to his feet. “Ready?”

  Agony showing on his face, he slung an arm over her shoulder. “I don’t suppose you have any of your Irish whiskey on you?” he asked through gritted teeth.

  By the time they got back to Aria Manor, Oliver had drained Janie’s flask. Michael and Gil were on the roof replacing tiles when the cart came up the drive. As the mule came to a stop, Janie’s assistants climbed down to meet the returning hunters.

  Janie jumped down from her seat and beckoned to Michael. “Get Oliver’s other arm, will you?”

  Bartley opened the door to welcome the Major home, and staggered back to admit Michael and Gil carrying Oliver’s limp figure. He was taken down the servants’ hall to the nearest bed.

  Janie dawdled in the entrance hall, screwing on her flask lid and keeping an eye on the Major as he limped up the stairs, alone in his distress.

  Liz elbowed Janie. “What on earth ’appened out there?”

  Janie’s jaw tightened. “Good question.”

  ARIA MANOR WAS in great apprehension. Dr. Collier had been called many times over the years, but never to treat someone after a hunting accident.

  Collier went to the kitchen where Ilene and Janie were sitting at the table, waiting for word on Oliver’s condition. Anna and Liz were hovering about, serving tea.

  Dr. Collier sighed. “He’s resting now. I gave him a sedative.”

  Ilene hesitated to ask, “Will he walk again?”

  The doctor nodded. “His leg will take time to heal. Although the bullet passed through, I’m afraid it did indeed injure some vital tissue and muscle. There will be permanent damage. At the very least, he will have a limp.”

  This dark news fell Ilene’s countenance. “And the worst of it?”

  Collier patted her hand in reassurance. “Nothing more serious. He might have to use a cane to get about, like your father, that’s all.”

  Ilene pulled her shoulders back. “How could this have happened?”

  “That’s something else I wanted to talk to you about, if umm...” The doctor gestured at the servants.

  “Oh. Yes, of course. Anna, could you and Liz leave us a moment?” Ilene asked cordially.

  Anna curtsied. “Certainly, Missus.”

  Collier waited until the women had left, then he turned to Janie.

  Ilene touched Janie’s sleeve. “I’d like Carolyn to stay.”

  “You were there?” he asked Janie.

  “He shot Oliver by accident, if that’s what you’re after.” Her tone left no room for doubt.

  “Are you absolutely certain?”

  After a hesitation, she nodded. “Yes.”

  “Did you notice anything unusual in his behavior prior to the shooting, or directly afterward?”

  “He wasn’t looking at all well this morning,” Ilene said reflectively.

  Collier crumpled his eyebrows. “And yet he wanted to hunt?”

  “Oh, he was most insistent.”

  Collier turned back to Janie. “Oliver mentioned the Major was acting, shall we say, unusually insistent about some family matters. His exact word was ‘fanatical’.”

  Janie said bluntly, “You’re asking me if Denys lost it out there.”

  Doctor Collier flashed an apologetic glance at Ilene. “Well...yes.”

  “Look,” Janie said, “all I know is that he looked right at me, and saw someone else.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When people who know you look at you, you can sense they’re in
mental contact with everything that fits their idea of who you are. With Denys, he looked at me as if I were someone else. Someone he wasn’t too fond of.”

  Collier exhaled slowly. “I was afraid of that.”

  Ilene stood. “What exactly are you getting at, Doctor Collier?”

  He stiffened his poise and answered directly. “It means, Mrs. Eldridge, your father is ill.”

  She countered with impatience, “Yes, but in what manner?”

  “I’m afraid that remains to be seen. He’ll have to come to my office so that I can run a few tests to assess his physical and mental stability.”

  Ilene breathed in a deep draught of air. “I’ll go speak with him,” she said, her tone and aspect grave.

  Dr. Collier held Janie back from following with a gentle hand on her arm. “Confide in me just one thing.”

  Janie tensed. “He was aiming at me.” Saying the words aloud for the first time, she took a moment to let the truth sink in. “That’s what you wanted to know, isn’t it? The Major was aiming at me, Oliver just got in the way.” Dr. Collier released her and he followed her out to the foyer.

  Collier accepted his hat, coat, and bag from Bartley in the entrance hall as Ilene descended the stairs.

  “I told Father you wanted to examine his leg at your office,” Ilene said in a confidential tone. “And that any medication you might need is not in your bag.”

  Collier nodded with approval. “Excellent service, my dear.”

  Ilene stared grimly at the tiled floor with arms crossed before her. Janie wrapped an arm around her shoulders to comfort her.

  Collier then reached out and patted her hand in comfort. “Now, now. Don’t trouble yourself. Your father is an iron horse. I’m certain you’ve nothing to worry about.”

  “I pray you’re right, Doctor Collier.”

  He pursed his lips. “From what I hear, he was under quite a strain in London. Then, there are always matters to which all men return. Your father’s had a great deal of responsibility both at home and abroad for so many years, perhaps it’s finally catching up to him. We old folks must recognize our limitations, you know. We’re not getting any younger.” He smiled. “Perhaps I can talk him into staying at Aria Manor on a more routine basis.”