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“But why do you know this?” she asked.
Jeffrey’s mind rushed with images: images of that now long-ago time, a time that still made his stomach curdle with rage.
His brother. His brother’s life had been taken.
“I just think we should continue to help out a bit, on the side,” Jeffrey continued. His eyes flashed around. He felt suddenly jumpy, as though anyone in the garden, even now, could have information that he and Charlotte required for their personal investigation.
“Okay,” Charlotte breathed. “If you think so.”
“I do.” He tried to brighten his voice. “Besides. I feel as though you’d make a natural detective. I can see it in you. You’re at your best when you’re digging through the muck of other people’s lives.”
Charlotte grinned inwardly. “I suppose it’s far less boring than my traditional life. You know, sitting in gardens with Louisa as she speaks endlessly about the marriage and children she so requires before next summer begins.”
“Not such outlandish talk,” Jeffrey said.
“It is when you want to take over the world.”
“Like you do,” Jeffrey said.
“I suppose I would if I could. If I had enough horses. If I had enough time,” Charlotte said.
“Perhaps you can begin with our town, here and now. I can help you take on the rest of it,” Jeffrey said.
They’d returned to their wealthy banter. Jeffrey’s heart felt akin to a butterfly rushing about his chest and lifting towards his throat. Another staff member appeared to deliver them each glasses: one of berry wine, another of Scotch.
Charlotte lifted her glass of berry wine. He clinked his glass with hers.
“To our newfound life of investigation,” she said. “And to discovering the truth behind the darkness.”
“Hear, hear,” he said. His eyes connected with hers, seconds before they drank.
Seconds after he’d sipped the first of his second glass of Scotch, his eyes turned back towards the rose bush, where Peter stood, peering at him with brimming curiosity. Jeffrey seethed. When he found time, minutes later, he pressed up beside Peter and said, “What are you? A brother? A father? Stop spying on me!”
“I’m sorry! There’s a great deal of romance in this garden,” Peter returned. “Everyone seems on the verge of falling in deep, devastating amounts of love. My wife and I have had a life of childrearing and exhaustion. Suffice it to say, we’re drinking in the glory of all of your newfound worlds.”
Jeffrey rolled his eyes. “You’re disgusting,” he told his friend.
Secretly, however, his heart burned with the pleasure of it all.
