“Are you sure this is a good idea, milady?” Estelle asked, walking to the wardrobe as well. “Will it not backfire in some way?”
“Perhaps it will, and perhaps it will not. I do not have the time to think about that now. I plan to start work in the evening.”
“Today? Would it do anything if I beg you to wait till the day breaks tomorrow?”
Juliet turned to Estelle, a knowing look on her face. Estelle nodded in understanding.
“That is what I presumed.”
“What do you think about this?” Juliet asked, grabbing a dress from the rack. It was a deep blue satin dress with lesser weight than the others. It was perfect.
“I suppose that will do.” Estelle replied, begrudgingly.
“Oh, come on. Do not be like that. Are you not tired of me sulking around the halls all day?” Juliet asked, gently pushing Estelle playfully.
Estelle shrugged. “If it makes you happy, I will do my best to support it.”
“I shall change.” Juliet said, throwing the dress on her bed.
“I shall come with you to the garden.” Estelle said as Juliet walked to the bathroom.
“No.” Juliet's voice was brittle.
“No?”
“You know better than to come with me to the gardens, Juliet. I barely let you come with me back in Willowbrook. That hasn't changed till now.”
“But it is merely a cluster of thorns and dirt now. You do not want me to come with you and clear it up a little.”
“The joy is in the work, Estelle.” Juliet responded. I shall do that all by myself. I have found that it is often the most mundane jobs that are the most fulfilling.”
“Here you go.” Estelle said, handing Juliet her dress with both hands and a curtsy. “This does not mean I still do not think this is a bad idea. I wish you would focus on a hobby that isn't so—dangerous.”
“I am not going to the tavern to wrestle with drunk men, Estelle. I am trying to grow flowers.” Juliet replied.
Estelle helped her wear her dress and tightened the ropes at the back.
“Do you want me to do something with your hair too? So that sand doesn't get in it?” Estelle asked.
“Please.” Juliet responded. Estelle reached for her hair and restyled it as much as she could. She made a huge braid and made sure to tuck it underneath.
“Okay.” Juliet whispered, feeling ready with each minute. “Now, see if you can help me with those shears.”
Estelle was right. What used to be a lovely garden in Estfield was now a giant lump of dirt, thorns, and dried-up leaves. The garden was near the giant walls of the manor. The walls provided the perfect shade for the flowers while allowing them to receive adequate sunlight. Vines tangled all over themselves and right up to the very top wall. Juliet’s eyes followed the vines and sighed. She was going to have to start from the top. Cutting off the vine from there would lessen her work. A wooden ladder had been placed a few yards away from the garden. Still brimming with joy from having to work, she hurried back to where she had seen the ladder, grabbed it, and carried it back to the wall.
As she gently placed the ladder against the wall, she couldn't help but compare the garden to the lives of the former Marquess and his Marchioness. The garden represented the happiness in their lives. Once the Marchioness died, the happiness started to wane, and so did the garden. The more unhappy the Marquess grew, the more the garden suffered.
She balanced her feet on the first rung and gripped the ladder tight. It was steady. Slowly, she started to climb up, the vines on the wall, in her line of sight every step of the way.”
The garden died with the Marquess, she was sure. And for two years, no one did anything to revive it. This was no longer the case. She was here. She would bring it back to life. She would bring back the happiness that used to exist between Richard and Isabella. Perhaps it will exist between Weston and her as well.
“What exactly do you think you're doing?” Weston's voice had come out of nowhere like wildfire. It had shaken her to her very core and had ruined her balance. She couldn't hold on to the ladder long enough to steady herself.
Life flashed before her eyes as her legs slipped off the top rung. She couldn't even scream as she fell off the ladder, bracing for the harsh, deathly embrace of the dry soil.
***
Weston had seen her walk out the balcony with a pair of gardening shears and the most determined expression he had ever seen on her face. He was preparing his shoes to go riding with Charles as usual when she walked out, her eyes tense, and her lips smacked tight against each other.
