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Her cheeks had gotten slightly flushed from the sun, and her lips pouted ever so softly to welcome the edge of the teacup. Never, in his entire life, had he felt a more fervent desire to kiss a woman. She took a small sip then licked her upper lip quickly. The very sight of that awakened potent desire inside of him, and he had to adjust in his seat so that his pants would not become obviously too tight under the strain inside. He quickly took his own cup and brought it to his lips to shift attention to something else, anything else other than the torrent in his trousers.
He looked around at the garden once again. Having fallen asleep under the heavy weight of the weeds and dust, he could still see its potential, especially now in the luminescent rain of the sun’s rays. Suddenly, an unbelievable thought occurred to him. He could plant some flowers. He could do it as soon as tomorrow. He just needed some seeds brought to the house, and he knew just the right place to get them from.
“… don’t you think so?” Her voice brought him back to the present moment. He looked at her. She was smiling expectantly.
“I’m sorry,” he said apologetically. “I got lost in thought.”
“I could tell,” she noticed. “I said, this garden must have looked beautiful back when…” She suddenly stopped herself, but he knew what she wanted to say.
“When my mother was alive,” he nodded. “Everything was more beautiful back then.”
He wanted to tell her more, but the memories were too painful. He got up, putting the teacup down. His fingers were slightly trembling.
“If you will excuse me,” he said. “I must take care of some business.”
“Of course,” she nodded, sounding a little confused.
He considered offering a more elaborate explanation for this abrupt departure, but he could not muster it. Instead, he just turned around and marched back inside, away from Amelia, back where it was still safe.
CHAPTER9
Amelia had been living in her new home exactly four days. In her mind, the idea still felt foreign somehow. She had brought all of her belongings here, leaving just a scarce few back… well, back in the place she once called home. Now, it was her home no longer. This vast, empty house had forcefully taken that title.
In the few days she had been here, she made very little progress transforming this house into the loving home that it once was. A few potted plants scattered about and a pair of new, bright yellow curtains could barely hide the dreary feeling of gloom that seemed to occupy every single room. Yet, she still felt like she was breathing life into this old place.
Every evening for the past four days, Arthur and Amelia would have dinner together. That was his condition which she had forgotten that first night, but since then, she vowed to herself not to forget it. Strangely, she found herself eager for dinner time to come, so she could ask him about the renovations she wished to start the following week. Not only that, but she also realized that despite the initial unpleasant impression she had of him, he was quite the gentleman. Her father had not been mistaken about that.
Amelia had not discussed any of the gossip that had been circlingthe tonregarding him. She doubted she would ever find the perfect moment to introduce that as the topic of conversation. How could she even ask if all those things were true or not? He would certainly get offended. And they were certainly not close enough to discuss such things.
Their conversations were still based on the usual, everyday occurrences. He told her about his work. She told him about the renovations. Sometimes, they didn’t know what to talk about, so they would fill the silence with sips and bites during dinner. Even then, she would watch him with the corner of her eye, and every time, she would catch him looking back at her. Then, they would both divert their gazes to the side hastily.
She could not understand where that flushing of her cheeks was coming from. She was certainly not attracted to him. Not in an emotional sense, at least. He was handsome, even with those scars. She could not deny that. But everything she knew about him, as well as the manner in which he had basically forced her into this marriage, pulled her away from him.
But… if all that were true, why was she stealing secret glances in his direction? Why was she curious whether he was looking back? She had no explanation for this. Mere curiosity. Yes, that had to be it. She was merely curious about him, about who he was, and whether all the gossip was true.
That morning, she was strolling through the house, wondering what else she could do to change just the appearance of the interior of the house. The truth was that the whole place was in dire need of proper renovations, including painting the walls, fixing the stairwell, and mending the roof of the west wing. The list was endless. She doubted that anything had been done on the house in terms of repairs in the last several years. In fact, ever since the night of the tragedy that changed Arthur’s life, things were left the same.
Suddenly, she stopped by the window that overlooked the garden. She could see a figure hunched down, resting on his knees with his hands in the dirt. His head was bent forward. She couldn’t see who he was because the thick shrubbery around the figure made it impossible for her to identify him from this point of view.
She immediately assumed that Arthur must have hired a gardener. Perhaps, he was led by her initiative to make this place more alive by replanting the whole garden in the memory of his mother. The thought made her smile. She welcomed the idea of having a lovely garden outside to have her morning tea and enjoy the sun on her face. She knew that this wasn’t particularly ladylike as ladies were supposed to steer clear from the sun in order to keep their complexions porcelain white and pristine. That was also what she taught Jane. But for her, different rules applied. She did not have a husband who needed to show her off, and the few sunspots she might have would make no difference in his eyes.
He didn’t love her, nor would he ever, but he was the husband she had. It was a strange fate to accept. Strange, but not altogether unimaginable. Amelia first thought she would remain a spinster, so merely being a wife was a new development in her life. Being an unconventional wife was a small step away from that.
She gazed out of the window for a few moments longer then she decided to go out and greet the new gardener. She hadn’t been introduced to him yet, and in any case, she was curious to find out what instructions he had gotten for the garden and the flowerbeds in particular. She had ideas of her own and hoped that she might implement them.
She headed towards the door, strangely pleased with the way things were turning out.
* * *
Things weren’t turning out the way he was hoping. It would seem that Arthur had forgotten much of the advice his mother had given him about tending to plants and especially delicate flowers such as the ones he had chosen to plant. But he decided he would not give up.
He pulled back away from the dirt, lifting his hands. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and there was dirt and mud everywhere, even underneath his fingernails. He wondered whatthe tonwould say if they saw him like this. How many more untrue stories would be added to the list of already existing ones? He was not only a madman, disrespectful towards women, but he was also an animal, caked in the dirt. The thought almost made him chuckle out loud.
It was exactly at that moment that he saw Amelia standing a few feet away from him. Her eyes were focused on him, and the moment that flicker of recognition appeared in them, her eyes widened in disbelief as if he were the last person she expected to see bending down in the dirt. He allowed her a few moments of composure as her gaze traversed the distance between his eyes and his hands then his eyes became her focus once more.
“I thought you were a gardener,” she admitted, flushing ever so slightly.
“In a way, I am,” he nodded, showing her his hands. She looked at his hands, standing at a distance. “I decided to follow your lead.”
