Garden of May - Chapter 12
Chapter 12
Blair, restless since early morning, had finally succeeded in dragging her out to the tennis court. Vanessa adjusted her racket, lost in thought. Around the age of ten, she’d been quite competitive, but now it just felt exhausting.
She wiped the sweat dripping down her chin with the back of her hand. Her sweat-soaked blouse clung uncomfortably to her skin. “Want to stop if you’re tired?” Blair offered, tossing her a water bottle.
Vanessa nodded eagerly. Unlike her exhaustion, Blair looked as refreshed as if he’d just been for a light stroll. After emptying his own water bottle, he handed his racket to a nearby servant. “Rosaline was worried. She told me to wear you out so you wouldn’t be able to think about anything else.”
“Ah… No wonder you were so insistent…”
“Let’s go inside. It’ll be perfect to shower and then have lunch in Bath. I’ll leave it to Rosaline to get permission from your uncle.”
Just as she readily agreed, she saw River Ross standing alone on the secluded path leading to the rose garden, having skillfully evaded the gaggle of maids who had been trailing him like sharks. Without thinking, she blurted out, “Wait, Blair.”
“Why?”
“I just remembered something I need to tell Mr. Ross. It won’t take long.”
“Is it urgent?”
“Go on ahead. I’ll catch up soon.”
“Hey, don’t push.” He feigned a stumble at her light shove and looked back at her with a curious expression. “You’re not going to ditch me to meet another man, are you?”
“…Blair.”
“Alright, alright.” He shrugged, picked up his water bottle and towel, and walked off the court. As soon as Vanessa was sure Blair was out of sight, she turned and started walking quickly. The faint scent of strong tobacco in the air made her increasingly anxious.
‘Where did he go? He was just here…’
The path to the rose garden was overgrown with untamed weeds that obscured her footing, and the ground was muddy from the rain a few days prior.
Vanessa, having reached the end of the path with some difficulty, was met with a locked iron gate. This was the only path from the back garden, where the tennis court was, to the rose garden.
If River Ross had been trying to leave, he would have passed her at least once. So, if he hadn’t…
‘That means he’s inside.’
Vanessa looked at the garden with conflicted eyes. The gate was too high to climb over in her long, flowing skirt, and the dead rose vines clinging to it made it dangerous. It bore the marks of three years of neglect, the time she had been away at boarding school.
‘I can’t hesitate.’
Vanessa clenched her hands as if steeling her resolve. She wouldn’t change anything by standing still and hesitating. Quickly, she knelt down, slipped her arm through the bars, and fumbled beneath a tilted statue.
‘I left the key here somewhere…’
Was her memory faulty from childhood? No matter how far she reached, she couldn’t feel anything metallic. Then, she heard a rustling sound and approaching footsteps.
She quickly scrambled to her feet. The sound was coming closer, directly towards her. In her panic, Vanessa stepped on a loose plank without noticing it. The thin wood snapped, and her left foot plunged downwards.
“Ouch!” She cried out, tumbling to the ground. The full weight of her body landed on her twisted ankle, sending a wave of excruciating pain through her.
Vanessa groaned, clutching her ankle. Only then did she remember the butler’s warning not to go near the garden. He had said they had dug up the ground for electrical work… it was ironic that she had forgotten everything in her single-minded pursuit of her goal.
Just as she felt a pang of misery, covered in mud, a dark shadow fell over her, like an unexpected frost in a summer garden. “What’s all this?”
***
Theodore, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, looked down at the woman sprawled on the ground. He felt like he had suddenly become a character in a cheap play—a role he hadn’t wanted, forced onto a stage against his will. Women were always like this.
When they were around him, they dropped things, got lost on their way to their lodgings, stumbled over level ground, and suddenly fell ill. Each instance was dramatic and utterly clichéd.
Of course, Lady Vanessa’s situation seemed a bit more serious than a mere feigned illness. The ankle visible beneath her mud-caked skirt was rapidly swelling and turning purple. Theodore narrowed his characteristically cool eyes and extended a hand to help her up, out of a soldier’s habit of protecting the vulnerable, rather than any aristocratic courtesy.
“You…”
Lady Vanessa gasped, clutching his arm with a muddy, damp hand. Her grip wasn’t particularly strong, but it felt desperate, almost fierce. “I have a proposition for you, River Ross.”
