Lady Vernon and Her Daughter by Jane Rubino

Author:Jane Rubino [Rubino, Jane]
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-46168-1
Publisher: Crown Publishing Group
Published: 2009-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

UPON ENTERING THE GREENHOUSE, FREDERICA EXPERIences an equal measure of happiness and dejection; the place must always hold happy associations for her, and yet she saw at once how far five months of neglect and disuse had annulled all of her effort.

The enclosure was still sound, and the rows of forcing beds in good condition, though the earth was dried up and covered in desiccated vines and leaves. Still, Frederica thought that something might be done with it, that the leaves and dried vines could be cleared away and the soil properly worked so that something might be planted. At the end of one of the long enclosures, several bundles of herbs had been hung to dry for the kitchen and for various eaux de toilettes and balms, which Frederica had tied upon the very morning of her father’s death.

She took a dusty apron down from a peg and tied it round her waist, and then sat upon one of the beds, to determine how it might be worked.

She heard a quick step along the rows and looked up to see Reginald deCourcy advancing in her direction. She dropped a curtsy and turned back to the beds, supposing that he meant to walk on.

To her surprise, he stopped and addressed her. “These were very fine greenhouses. I cannot think why my brother allows them to fall into decline unless his notion of landscape is for everything to grow in a wild and random fashion.”

“There is very little in nature that is random—even when neglected, there is some order to every growing thing.”

“You reply as one who thinks first in a scientific manner. But take this plot, for example,” he said, pointing to one of the beds where an irregular scattering of tendrils poked through the earth. “There is no system here.”

“You must be patient, sir. I put the bulbs down myself last year, to force them here and then remove them to one of the plots in the spring. When they bloom, this row will be yellow tulips and those will be white crocuses. Plants, like people, are not always as they first appear—only in time will their nature be revealed.”

“Yet there can be little deception in plants—a tulip is always a tulip, and a crocus cannot be other than a crocus.”

“Yes, if you judge candor or deception only by the exterior. Then you see only the bloom and yet the roots that support it may be corrupt—and in such a way as may ruin the entire garden.”

Reginald smiled in so warm and congenial a manner that Frederica felt emboldened and asked him to describe the grounds and gardens at Parklands. She listened raptly as he gave a comprehensive description of the deCourcy estate. “My father took a very active interest in the property when he was in health.”

“Then I wish him a very speedy return to it,” she said. She bound up two bundles of dried herbs. “This is agrimony and this one is dried peppermint. A strong brew

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