2 The Gardener #3
Cal. Calvin Garford. An under-gardener who yet seemed not at all nonplussed to find himself dining at a duke’s table, nor embarrassed at the Garths’ vitriol.
In fact, sometimes when he glanced across at them, his lips twitched and his eyes twinkled, almost as if he was amused by their antics.
And he certainly knew how to behave at a gentleman’s table.
Indeed, she could not fault his behaviour, ensuring that the ladies to either side of him had everything they needed, trying a spoonful of almost every dish, complimenting the duchess on the excellence of the meal and ensuring that Miss Garth did not take too much wine.
Only his work-roughened hands betrayed him.
Cora tried to remember the under-gardeners at Staineybank, wondering whether any of them would be able to mix in society the way this man did.
They were rough-looking fellows, she thought, who spoke like peasants.
Unlike this man, whose accent was not at all peasant-like.
He had a slight local twang, that was all, but he had clearly received some education, for when Miss Garth said something to him in a foreign language, he had replied, “That’s rude, Miss Vi!
Who’s been teaching you to swear in Latin?
” and she confessed the words had come from her brother.
When the ladies withdrew, and Miss Garth attached herself to Cora again, Cora took the opportunity to ask about Mr Garford’s knowledge of Latin.
“Oh yes, he has been educated. The local clergyman. Not the one we have now, a different man, but Cal studied Latin and Greek with him for years, until he died. The Latin was useful to him — something to do with plants, but I am not sure how. But the Greek was his own choice. He likes to read it, although Edward says it is the driest language imaginable.”
“I expect it is the works he has been required to read at school that are dry,” Cora said, amused. “My husband read Greek for enjoyment, too. Perhaps Mr Garford would like to have his books? If he still likes Greek, he may be glad to have something new to read.”
“He has lots of books in his cottage. He gets them from the Priory’s library.”
“Oh, he has the run of the library, does he? Your papa is very generous.”
She giggled. “Oh, Papa knows nothing about it! Cal goes in at night and helps himself, then he puts them back when he is finished with them, so it is not stealing. There are six thousand books in our library and no one ever reads any of them. Well, except Cal, of course. And there are some books with engravings that Edward likes, but they are kept in a locked cabinet and no one will give me the key. I like books with engravings. Cal has a lovely one with drawings of plants, with every part of it laid out on the page — little shoots, the fully grown plant, the blossom, the seeds, everything. I am so glad the duke invited him here, because he will be much more use to him than Papa.”
“I still have no idea what either of them is supposed to be doing for his grace,” Cora said, fishing shamelessly for information. “‘Advising on improvements’ could mean anything. I dare say your papa has ordered some changes to the gardens?”
“He is always ordering changes, but never anything specific. ‘I want the summer garden extended,’ he will say to George, or, ‘Can you do something about the shrubbery?’. George is the head gardener, you see. But then he never explains precisely what he wants, and if George has some plans drawn up, Papa says they are useless. So nothing is ever done. The only improvement in the Priory gardens is Mama’s flowering border.
She wanted more flowers to cut for the house, so Cal designed a border for them, with the western wall of the kitchen gardens behind it, for warmth, he says, and it is wonderfully pretty.
Mama is thrilled with it. But when Papa found out, he was very cross and would have had it all ripped out again except that Mama would not let him. So he cut down Cal’s woods instead.”
“Why would he do such a thing?” Cora said, rather shocked by such vindictiveness.
“He hates Cal,” Miss Garth said airily. “Oh, look, here are the gentlemen at last… and there is Cal!”
Away she went, leaving Cora rather breathless at the amount of information so artlessly imparted, and very unsettled by a man who would destroy woods in some perverse form of vengeance.
Surely Miss Garth had misunderstood her father’s intentions?
No one would cut down woodland without a good reason, would he?
But then the taking of books without the owner’s permission or even knowledge was not the behaviour of an honest man.
She could make nothing of it. What sort of man was Cal Garford, the under-gardener who was educated enough to enjoy Latin and Greek, and who was clearly disliked by his employer yet still had his job? More interestingly, why did she care so much?
When most of the company had settled at the card tables, she moved her seat on the pretext of needing better light for her needlework in order to give her the best view of Cal, watching his face and learning the expressions that flitted across his countenance.
Knowing something of his education, it was no surprise that he played whist competently.
He showed little emotion, merely the slightest hint of a smile when a play of the cards went well, and a little shake of the head when a trick was lost. But twice during the evening, he looked up directly at Cora and saw her watching him.
And both times, he smiled before ducking his head downwards again, that same almost private smile that shook her to the core of her being.
By the time she retired to her room that night, she could not suppress her own smile. Cal Garford… a gardener who was yet the most beguiling man she had ever met.