Chapter 6
Chapter Six
V ictor left past noon to gather some things before coming to stay at the manor. The interaction with Dorian throwing his perception of me off for the moment. He eyed me with caution the entire carriage ride home. I couldn’t hide my smile. The man probably thought I was as manic as Dorian. Having been attacked one night and smiling the next day. I was content to be left alone though. Now that I knew he was not the one I was fated to be with. Maybe I could grow to love him.
Even then the thought repulsed me. I didn’t want love.
The house was freezing when I entered. As if a harsh frost tore through the walls. It wasn’t uncommon in the manor. Most rooms had a chill to them but no maintenance was required. The manor was as well looked after as the palace itself.
Grandmother prided herself on the state of her home. Just as her mother did before her.
We ate in silence through lunch back at the manor. Both not wanting to discuss the strange man watching us. Even though I could still feel his eyes on me.
I retired to the greenhouse until sundown. The steamed glass walls bore the outside forest to me, I watched as the sun became one with the ground. Deep inside me harboured a young girl who longed to see the colours of a sunset. Grandmother had told me about them years ago. I had never forgotten how sad she looked when she described it. As if she despised her ancestor for the curse that had taken away our beauty in life. No matter how many times I told her that just because colour was non existent to me, I could still find the beauty in everyday life and appreciate it more. She always told me to not argue and that I would understand when I found my colour.
What she didn’t realise though, is how I would grow up to despise colour and how happy it seemed to make people. I didn’t understand how people couldn’t find contentment in darkness.
The earthy scent of damp soil and plant-life swam around my senses, radiating a wave of calmness through me. I strolled through the rows of pots I had accumulated. Bunches of leaves poking out everywhere amongst the array of flowers I had brought to life. Extending my fingers, I ran them over the leaves. Some soft, others sharp. Some like a kiss of smooth silk to the skin. A smile tugged at my lips. The greenhouse was one place I always felt at peace. Closing my eyes, I ran my fingers over a petal of a peony. A distant memory resurfacing.
Father’s voice echoing around me. “Not pony, Vespera, peo-knee.” The sound of his once bright joy hit like a blade to the chest. I had longed for him to return for years. To come see how I had grown. But it has been years since I last heard from him. Sometimes I wondered whether I truly liked gardening or whether I was simply keeping it up to standard for when father arrived back home. If he ever did. Grief tugged at my shoulders, pulling them down.
I was never enough for anyone.
Grandmother had called me gloomy for many a year. I would seek comfort in books of anatomy or medical research. Something no young woman should supposedly be interested in. I never gravitated toward light colours or small animals. I would always reach for dark shades and fearsome animals. Although I could not stand ravens. Noisy little beasts, I much preferred the silence to their chatter.
Pulling myself from my thoughts I began to prune the bush before me.
“Lady Vespera?” Mary’s voice tore through my concentration on the petunias.
I hummed as she approached, waiting for whatever it was she wanted. The oil lantern flickering in her hold.
“This was delivered for you. Victor said he quite enjoyed the study and thought you might too,” She said softly as she entered my safe space, her hands in her apron pocket, hiding whatever was concealed.
“Is he here?” I whispered, looking briefly behind her for him. She shook her head before producing the gift. A small leather bound book lay between her hands. I reached for it warily. What kind of study was it? Opening the first page, I almost giggled at the title. A Study of Madness.
Mary quirked a brow at my reaction but said nothing. I thanked her before turning back to the petunias, putting the book beside the pot.
Mary lingered in the pathway, watching intently as I snipped the dried leaves. She cleared her throat loudly. I slid my eyes to where she stood watching me.
“What exactly are you doing?” She tilted her head, eyes filled with curiosity . Her voice as sweet as honey.
“Tending to the dead leaves. If I don't remove these ones, the rest of the plant will die.”
“Fascinating,” She breathed, stepping forward. I mumbled a brief yes before turning back to the pot. Mary remained exactly where she was, watching with awe as my hand wove through the plants.
Whilst I didn't usually like company, something told me Mary needed the companionship more than I ever did.
“Would you mind finding me a trowel please? I think I may begin planting some seeds.”
Mary’s eyes glazed over with a sudden mystification. As if the mere thought of planting a seed was the most fascinating thing for her. My lip quirked up at her quick nod before scurrying around the benches. The sound of her footsteps falling in line with my pruning shears. She hurried back holding the trowel like a beautiful treasure.
I thanked her warmly before pushing past her gently to get a pot.
Mary watched as I filled the heavy pot with damp soil. Poking holes into the surface with my finger every inch. I placed each rose seed in with delicate care before smoothing the soil over each small hole, remaining silent as I worked.
“That will do for tonight.” I wiped a filthy hand over my brow, leaving a trail of mess lining my skin.
“Will you come back and complete the others tomorrow?” Mary asked softly.
“Yes. I think I will do the ones I can.”
Mary brightened in the light from the oil lantern beside her. I withheld my own smile, knowing she would be back by my side tomorrow.
The moon hung high above us as we walked through the narrow path back to the manor. Content silence filling the vast night.
Uncle Arthur sitting watch outside my door writing notes by candlelight. He smiled as I approached my room but said nothing. I washed the muck from me quickly before collapsing into bed, staring at my reflection in the mirror. Nothing had changed. I still looked as cold and plain as usual.
I shook the memory of my shallow reflection from my head. Turning my focus back to the strange medical study book from Victor in my grasp.
The pages opened easily, the old book clearly had been read multiple times over. How many people had touched this book and studied the contents? Understood the supposed truth in the words? Excitement jittered through me as I read the first page.
“ Madness has been found in many places around the world but seemingly more evident than ever before in the heart of London, ” it read. I grinned despite myself. Of course London housed a multitude of madness and hysteria. It was too large not too. Too many tales told. Too many horrors held in the streets.
I read deep into the night. Desperate to reach the end of the study. It was in the middle that froze me to my core.
“ Under stress, the mind can conjure images of things that are not there and can cause them harm. Many cases of near death have resulted in the patient declaring that a man of shadows came to take them away. ”
I hadn’t seen a shadowy man. Just a strange blurry attacker that no one else had seen.
Was I the one who was mad? I couldn’t be. My mouth opened and closed. Silently protesting the teaching of the book. I scolded myself. How could I have imagined it if there were bruises on my skin. Scowling, I closed the book and rolled over, forcing myself into a fitful sleep.
“If the soil is too dry, the seed won’t grow. Same as if it were to be too wet”
Mary nodded as I spoke, drinking in each fact that I provided. Her sweet face was lined with dirt and sweat.
It was exceptionally warm in the greenhouse, the sun now high in the sky.
It had taken all morning for me to convince Mary that she was allowed to help me plant the seedlings into the pots. The poor soul was terrified to mess anything up and be the cause of their deaths. It was sweet in a way. I didn’t mind if she misplanted them. It was all part of learning. Only God knows how many seeds I had planted only to have them wither and die or not even blossom at all.
Mary’s tongue poked out from the side of her mouth. Her focus solely on covering the seeds, patting the soil ever so gently so that they were sealed in.
I praised her for her work, feeling pride for the young maid. A small giggle left me as she cheered for herself. Her pleasure filling the empty space. The sound of her delicate claps bringing a small smile to my lips.
“When did you start here?” I asked suddenly, the mood deepening.
“Only a month ago. Your grandmother put out an advertisement for someone to come tend to the house.”
“And you came despite the rumours?” I cocked my head. Listening intently for her response.
“Every house is haunted. There is not a single inch of this earth where something hasn’t died on at some stage.” She shrugged, as if truly unphased by the entities in this manor.
I straightened, taken aback by her words.
A brief flicker of movement flashed behind her. I glanced over her shoulder looking out beyond the glass walls into the forest.
I froze.
“Vespera, what is it?” Mary’s tone softened, like a mother soothing a babe.
“I think there is someone in the forest.” I kept my voice low. Fear ribboning through it.
Mary turned to face the forest. Her eyes darted over every tree. I stepped beside her slowly, searching again. Mary gasped but stepped back. Her hand flew to her mouth. My stare catching on what she had seen.
A figure covered by a dark hood loomed on the outskirts of the trees. Facing where we stood in the greenhouse.
My heart pounded in my chest. The sound echoing in my ears.
Mary gripped my arm. Her stare still locked on the stranger.
The door to the greenhouse suddenly creaked open. Mary’s hands darted for the trowel. The handle in her shaky grasp as she stood before me. Trowel ready to attack if she needed to. It was admirable really.
“Jesus Christ, Mary. It’s just me.” Victor materialised, his hands raised in a sign of surrender.
Mary exhaled heavily.
“What are you staring at?” Victor breathed. Too afraid to make mention of our terrified appearance.
I swallowed thickly. Unable to form a word. My fingers raised to point at the treeline.
The figure stood as still as stone watching the interaction.
“Mary, take Vespera inside.” Victor ordered. His arm extended for her to take the trowel and move out.
“She is not going out there with that mad man!” She exclaimed, her voice shrill.
Victor held a finger to his lips. His expression lethal. “Get her inside now.” He hissed.
Mary puffed before thrusting her hand back for me. I took it easily, noting that she still held the trowel in a white knuckle grip rather than giving it to Victor. She pulled me toward the door.
Victor dashed out before she made it, moving toward the strange hooded man.
“You are trespassing on private property. I demand you state your name and reason for entering the manor yards.” His voice demanding. A tone I never thought I would hear from him. He was always so gentle and kind. Mary tugged me down the path, urging me to continue as I stopped to catch a glimpse of the man.
The figure remained silent but lifted an arm. A gloved finger pointed at me. Mary tugged once more before I moved. Looking over my shoulder as the figure stepped back, melding into the tree line once more.