The Cultivation of Roots and Flowers.

I have always been most capable of building beauty. Born with sparse little of my own, being crooked of nose and calloused of palm, I suppose I find myself more diligent in forging perfection. I chose my canvas early and marked it as life itself. Using my hands I delighted in carving landscapes and gardens into tightly cut lines and painting the results with flowering colour. Working and training every moment of my young life, I mastered the wildness of the world and tamed it to be pleasing to the eye. Roses have always been my favourite. So filled with complexity and abundant with depth, their deep shades of red are irresistible to any with a soul. While I was still paying my dues, as all must, I won employment at Waddesdon Manor, and I thought my dreams finally realised. I had found myself apprenticed amongst the most impressive gardens in all England and each day I tucked my shirt over a chest swelled with pride before stepping onto those grounds. I thought there no greater pursuit in life. Right up until the day I was presented with a bloom, more exquisite, than any I could ever have imagined.

The morning that I met her, began as any other would during early spring; with a crisp sunrise and a low mist. I was tending thorny beds showing the beginnings of bud, intending to escape the watchful supervision of the Master Gardener, when a cry echoed along the stony path.

“Hush now, sweet thing,” the infant’s mother whispered, reaching down into the wide pram to adjust heavy blankets, “Don’t fuss. The fresh air and the flowers will see you well.”

I pushed to my feet, looking around for anything I might use to clean the dirt and raw scratches from my hands. At a loss, I settled for swiping them against the back of my pants, and as the pair approached, I snatched the flat-cap from my head and pressed it between the lapels of my jacket, hard against my heaving chest.

“Good morning, Miss Alice…” I stuttered, steam coalescing on my breath. My eyes failed to obey etiquette, and rudely met the high ladies own.

“Good morning to you, Albert,” she smiled, as freely as only the wealthy can and ignoring the slight, “How fare my daughter’s namesake blooms?”

“Very well, my lady. Their roots are strong, and the soil deep. If only the climate of the season would let up, they could flourish.”

“The frost certainly clings this year, does it not? It shrouds all in cold and works to make one quite lonesome...” The quiver of a different smile threatened her lips but was overcome with propriety quickly. Her eyes held mine defiantly throughout the pause that stretched across the back of her words.

I broke it with my first and hasty thought.

“And how is young Rose, does she suffer for the weather? I heard her cries as you approached.” I dared not look down at the soft face of the innocent child, only waited on a held breath, to hear that she was well.

“Complaints of a slight chill, is all,” Miss Alice explained, giving me permission to exhale once more, “she has all a girl could ever need and will grow into a fine, healthy young lady.”

As much as I wanted to hold firm, I couldn’t prevent it…I needed to see her face. My head turned down and my eyes followed behind, finding and tracing the delicate features of the tiny babe. She was so beautiful. Her eyes opened and ice-blue irises stared up at me, silent and studious. It was all I could do to freeze in place and deny myself the urge to reach down and press my fingers to her flushed cheek.

“Is the boy bothering you, my lady?!” A gruff call of the Master Gardener sounded, thankfully snapping me from the moment and preventing me from doing something rash.

“Oh, not at all, dear Mr. Yarden. In fact I came seeking your man.”

“Is that so?” He said with raised eyebrows, barrelling to a stop between us, “Perhaps I could be of service to you?”

The lady Alice rocked her pram absently, settling the shuffling form of the young child. I could not stop gazing at her. She was so small, and so delicate. Vulnerable and a magnet for my protection. No longer could my work, my overseer, or even the enticing lady of the house compete for my attention.

“I think not, your work is far too important for me to distract you with my fancies,” Miss Alice laughed, “No, I require a guide. You know well my interest in horticulture and I would like this to pass on to my daughter. So that she might keep the house gardens as well as I have when it becomes her duty. Once a month, if it should not interfere too much with your requirements of him, I would enlist Albert here to tour the gardens and tutor my Rose in its workings. Now, before you say it, I know she is far too young for formal instruction, but I do believe the interest will be peaked by her darling ears. So, your man will talk nonetheless.”

“If it pleases my lady, it shall be done” Mr. Yarden agreed, with a short bow and a hidden raise of one eyebrow.

I caught Miss Alice’s eye as she passed by on her departure, dragging the child’s face from my sight as I attempted to memorise it in the short moments left to me. I gave her a nod of thanks and acknowledgement for her risk, before returning to my ministrations of the grand gardens of Waddesdon Manor, with an optimistic energy that had not been there before.

Twelve walks. Twelve hours. Each year of Rose’s life. It was a gift. One I did not deserve.

When the first occasion came, my hands were shaking. I was ravenously nervous. I stood waiting in the shade of a large Oak tree. The Oak, that stands before the front staircase of the main house. I was so on edge that I swear I could hear the very leaves unfurling in the warming sunshine. I checked my collar and my jacket every few seconds, and picked every hair from my tweed pants. It was daft, she could barely yet open her eyes. Then all at once, she was there, and I was walking across the lawns beside a pram rolling on large spoked wheels, pushed by the lady of the house. I stumbled over words of grass varieties and proper edging. Seed and the right height for trimming. All while never taking my eyes from the sleepy newborn. Out of the blue and sending my heart leaping, Miss Alice yelped sharply and was forced to drop all pretence, when I almost stepped from the edge of a rocky terrace. So absorbed had I been in talking to Rose, that I had to be pulled from a nasty fall by a rough grip on the inside of my elbow. She held on for a moment longer than was necessary, then with a false cough, Miss Alice released me and took a step away, placing space between us once more.

“Are you quite alright, Albert?” She asked, worry painting her face.

“Yes, perfectly fine. Only embarrassed, my apologies, Miss Alice.” I said, gathering myself, then pausing, mouth ajar, in sudden realisation, “I’m so sorry my lady! The thought has just occurred that it must be improper for me to refer to you as such, now that you are married, I mean…”

She laughed, fully and with heart.

“Albert, I shall be Miss Alice until the day I die, I fear. The advanced age and status of the husband chosen for me can change much, but not such a name. Please, do not deny me the reminder that we were once young out here together.”

“Quite right, my lady. A time I shall never forget.” I said, smiling, despite myself.

She pressed her fingers to her lips long after her laughter had faded and looked on me with creased eyes for a lingering moment.

“This has been pleasant, Albert. Despite the near-death experiences. I look forward to next month's lesson.” She whispered.

“As do I, my lady” I said, bowing formally.

We walked on, as we always had, in opposite directions.

Years passed, and the months between walks stretched into eternities. Those precious hours became the only thing I truly cared about in my life. I succeeded Mr. Yarden as Master Gardener eventually, yet the elevation was meaningless to anything but the quality of the food upon a lonely plate at the end of the day. I watched Rose from afar whenever she ventured outside, but hearing her laughter on the wind was nothing compared to feeling it directly. In fact, it became quite painful to witness on any day other than those assigned to her education on flora. Luckily, the Lord of the house had little interest in anything outside of his study, books and finances. So, I dealt exclusively with Miss Alice and Rose beyond the walls of the manor, while what happened within, was foreign to me. It was like two worlds existing side by side, separated by stone and inhabited by men too different to find a middle. So often I would find myself staring at those grand windows, wishing they would open, to bridge the air of the two biomes, gifting me with a glimpse of the child’s other life. A life forever barred to those of my standing.

My desperation to interact with Rose grew unbearable. It began to manifest with improper behaviour. My duties suffered and in the profession I had chosen, inadequate attention became rather visible and ugly. I found myself unable to sleep and my appearance grew dishevelled. I overstepped my bounds in speech more and more readily, formality falling far beyond the way side. I forgot myself entirely on one occasion, addressing the ladies of the house without invitation and earning myself a full dressing down by the Lord himself. After that, I dragged myself through the tedium of the next month, looking forward only to the day that I might converse with the young girl once more.

“Do you know how old I am now, Albert?” She asked, interrupting my explanation of succulents and sending me stammering. It was not how I had imagined our longed for conversation beginning.

“Why lady Rose, you were ten, just this passing July” I answered, a quizzical look intentionally visible on my wrinkled brow.

“And how long have you worked here for my mother? I don’t remember you ever not tending the grounds.”

“Well, let’s see. I joined the employ of the house about a year or two before you were born, I believe. What interest do you have of the distant past, my dear?” I said on a low voice. Spying over her shoulder to where Miss Alice sat reading on a nearby bench. In all the years, she had never once wavered in her chaperone. Playing by the rules, maintaining the society she served. Making up for her single lapse of indulgence by denying it every day since.

“Your eyes are blue. Cold blue. Like ice water.”

I chuckled.

“That they are. Are you quite alright?” I asked, noting how her jaw was set and her fists balled. There was no humour in her voice.

“Mother’s are also blue, but darker. Father’s are hazel.”

A wave of understanding settled onto my shoulders. Its weight was immense. She knew.

“Ah.” I said, panic seizing my chest. For all my yearning to be close to the girl, I had never considered until that second, what it would truly do to her should I succeed.

“Are you-“

“Hush child!” I scream whispered, pulling her by the wrist around a stand of trees and out of sight, “You must not complete that thought, I beg you, abandon your course before you damn us all!”

“I deserve the truth! My whole life I have felt it! The lie! Tell me I am wrong, please, tell me I am mistaken, so that I might return to a content existence!”

“I cannot.” I breathed.

“Then hold me!” She cried, “Embrace me like my false father never could! Show me the love I have been denied and so needed! Please!”

I had permission. Finally, I had the invitation to take my daughter in my arms and feel the press of her hair against my cheek. To lose myself in the warmth of her breath on my neck and to hold her safe within my arms. I could protect her, for the ticking clock of a single embrace. My arms raised as if to press my hand against her face. It was a touch I had desperately desired since that first glimpse of her has a newborn. But I stopped. A full foot away from the contact.

“My darling. I have wanted nothing else for a decade. But if I did so now, you would lose everything that those years bought you. Your mother would be ruined. And I would forfeit my life. I would gladly pay my price, if it meant you were spared yours, but all it would do is damn you further. You must understand that I ensure the safety of both you and your mother, by keeping you beyond my reach.”

I stared into the huge lakes of her eyes and watched her heart break. Tears ran down her cheeks, but her teeth remained clenched. Fury boiled in the tension of her curled fingers and before I could say another word, she turned and fled. I reached out to her back, knowing that if she spun around, I would pull my hand away again.

I left the next day. Only once I had travelled beyond earshot of the estate, did I roar my agony at the sky. Releasing years of fear, tension and worry, I fell to my knees and wept. Digging my fingers into the wet mud of the road, I grieved the life that the world was denying me. As much as the pain wracked my soul, I remained grateful. Nodding against my tears, I knew I had purchased Rose a life of ease with my suffering. It was a fair exchange. To keep the bargain, it would be best that I never returned to the gardens of Waddesdon Manor again.