Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Mr. Brooks stood alone in the chilly morning air, sleeves rolled to his elbows despite the cold, carefully lifting a potted rosemary bush from a cart. Around him, several other plants—lavender, mint, even a rose or two—sat waiting for relocation like refugees from a summer that would not return.
He did not see me at first. I watched him work in silence, the way he brushed away frost from the leaves with his bare fingers, the care with which he tucked each pot in place as though they were delicate things with feelings of their own.
It was not what I expected to find a steward doing at this hour—or any hour, for that matter.
I stepped forward at last. “Rescuing the kingdom, are we?”
He looked up and smiled, slow and easy, the kind that warmed despite the chill. “It seems foolish to let them die when they’ve held on so long.”
I tucked my hands into my muff. “Is this part of your official duties?”
“I suppose not. But they’re your aunt’s plants. Some of them, I believe, she kept from year to year. I found records in the back ledgers. Some of it might be just fine. The rosemary might survive, but I wanted to be sure to keep at least a few of them.” He shrugged.
I stepped closer, catching the scent of rosemary and damp soil. “Does the manor have a gardener?”
“Home. His wife’s unwell.”
I nodded, trying to understand this man in front of me.
He secured a cover over one of the carts. “Do you find this rescue odd?”
My expression must have shown my confusion. “Not odd, necessarily. Unexpected. I think it’s rather endearing.”
He glanced at me, surprised, as if he’d expected teasing. “Do you?”
“Yes,” I said lightly, “though I’m not certain what it says about you.”
He laughed. “Perhaps it says I don’t mind dirt under my nails.”
“Or that you’re not particularly good at delegation.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgement. “That, too.”
There was a comfortable pause.
I walked a slow circle around the barn door, peeking inside. Several plants had already been lined up on makeshift wooden shelves beneath the high windows. It was warmer than I expected—sunlight filtering through and a faint scent of dried herbs lingering in the beams.
“You’re making this into a greenhouse of sorts?”
“For now. It’s temporary. A few of the plants may last through January, with care. Perhaps longer if the frost isn’t too cruel.”
I turned to him. “You continue to surprise me.”
“And you continue to find me.”
I offered a wry smile. “You happen to appear. Everywhere.”
“It’s part of my charm.” His eyes twinkled with humor. “I cared deeply for your aunt. She was like family and I know she liked these particular plants.”
I blinked, taken off guard by his honesty—or his jest. I couldn’t quite tell which.
He reached for another pot. “Your sisters arrive tomorrow, I believe.”
“So I’m told.”
He paused again to study me. “You don’t sound pleased.”
“They are... generous with their opinions.”
“And you, not as much?”
“I try not to have too many when they are near.”
He looked at me thoughtfully. “Then they are missing something important.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. That was not the sort of remark one could answer directly—not without giving something away.
So I turned back to the plants. “Will the rosemary survive?”
“With luck.”
I nodded. “Then I wish it well.”
But as I turned to leave, his voice, soft and warm, stopped me. “Would you like to help?”
I paused. I would like to help. But should I?
Was that entirely proper to be working in the dirt with the steward?
Did I care what was proper anymore? I was a widow.
Proper needn’t apply to me any longer. Right?
I needed someone to advise me. Perhaps those widows of Somerset might be good companions.
In the meantime, perhaps I should behave as I wished.
Why not? So I turned back, lifting my muff.
“If we can find a safe place for this rather luxurious muff, I think I’d like to give it a go. ”
His grin filled his face. “There you go.”
I was at a loss, seeing such approval in him.
I felt my face heat and then I awkwardly lifted the muff.
“I’ll just um…put this inside?” I indicated the barn, and he straightened.
“Yes of course. Allow me.” He gingerly took the muff, our fingers brushing as mine were now bare and stepped inside the barn.
He returned quickly with some gardening work gloves. “Wear these. It’s rather chilly, and joking aside, I do not wish for you to have dirt underneath your fingernails.”
I tugged them on. “I wouldn’t mind. Lucy might complain a bit, but I’ve always heard such work is good for the soul.”
He nodded. “And for the manor.” He led the way back along a path through the side garden. “We have quite a few that need to be lifted carefully and placed in pots. I’d dug about them already. But could use some help in getting them situated in the pots.”
I nodded, suddenly wondering if I was indeed the correct person for such a job.
But he led me with confidence toward the first of many rosemary bushes.
“Now, I’ll tug the thing up, gently, and you hold the pot just so.
” He tilted it, angling in toward the bush. “Hold it steady. And I’ll do the rest.”
I nodded. Then crouched down, ignoring the hems of my skirts which would be bearing the evidence of my shenanigans.
My hands gripped the sides of the pot, tipping it forward.
And Mr. Brooks tugged the plant from the earth.
It came, after some nudging and prodding from him.
“There’s a go, pretty lady. Now, let’s get you safely in the barn.
” His voice was tender and teasing and for the briefest moment it felt like he was talking to me.
My skin shivered with friendly gooseflesh rushing over me. What a voice he had.
I shook my head, trying to dislodge the highly improper thoughts. No harm in admiring the man’s voice, but no good could come of it either. My cheeks flushed further.
“Are you feeling the cold?” His gaze studied me in too close a manner. “You look a bit flushed.”
I laughed. “Oh no, quite warm actually.” I choked on my own words, knowing of course he could not know the wickedness of my thoughts. Imagine, pining for a man’s voice.
He eyed me a moment as if he was trying to guess the direction of my thoughts and a flash of something crossed his expression, but he seemed to dismiss it with but the smallest smile.
“Now comes the tricky part. I’ll lift her just so and place her in your pot.
Hold it steady, try to resist the force of the plant, and don’t… topple backward.” He laughed.
I nodded. “Don’t topple backward. I shall do my best.” I braced my legs and arms against the incoming rosemary bush and held tight against the gentle nudging until we’d safely placed the plant in the pot.
I breathed out. “Whew. We did it.”
“Yes, we did.” He adjusted the angle so that it was sitting upright. “That looks about right.” He turned toward the garden beds. “And now we collect some dirt.”
I paused, watching him scoop up handfuls of dirt and placed them in the pot with the bush. After but a moment, I joined him. “Do we have a shovel or some tool for this?”
He nodded. “We do, but we don’t need much and this will suffice.”
My scoops were much smaller than his but after a few more, we had a newly potted rosemary bush. “That’s wonderful.” I almost brushed my hands down my skirts but stopped with one glance at the dirt caked gloves. “Shall we do another?”
His grin grew again. “Let’s do as many as we can. Every plant we bring into the barn will be sheltered more and has a chance when we will replant them in the Spring.”
I clapped the dirt from my gloves. “Then we must be about it. Daylight only lasts so long.”
He studied me with the light of pleased acceptance for a moment.
I raised my chin, smiling. “Are you happy, then?”
After a moment he dipped his head. “Quite.”
We moved to the next pot, placed near a bush I did not recognize. It too soon found a new home in a pot.
At the next, I wished to change jobs. “Perhaps I could have a go?” I approached the bush.
“Certainly. It can be a bit determined to keep its place in the earth. Give it try.”
My hands wrapped around the largest of the branches, close to the earth and I pulled.
Even though it had been dug about and loosened, even though it appeared as though it was simply resting in the earth, it did not want to budge.
“Oh dear.” I tugged again. It moved a bit, but nothing close to a clean exit from the soil.
“I do so wish to accomplish this one thing.” The words exited my lips before I fully comprehended their meaning.
But I soon felt arms around me and hands joined mine as we both tugged at that branch. It nudged further.
Mr. brooks grunted behind me. I tried not to think of his body wrapped around mine.
He smelled of earth and sandalwood and something spicy I would not soon forget.
But we pulled together. I called out. “Come on now!” And with one final tug, the entire bush was yanked from the earth sending us falling backward together, the bush on top of us both.
I felt his chest shaking before his laugh filled my ears. I turned to look at a face, quite close to mine, his chest heaving beneath my side and a pair of eyes searching the death of mine for something. I smiled. “Well, that was something.”
“Yes it was, wasn’t it?” He made a move to rise, but I was literally on top of him, holding the bush.
“Oh dear, yes, sorry.” But as I tried to move, the bush was rather heavy. “I’m afraid I might need some assistance?”