Bush of purple roses (Part 1) |
Jag ber om ursäkt för eventuella grammatikfel.
She was standing in the open door, watching him work in the garden. This years appelpicker. He was as old as her brother, but the skin on his hands and face and the muscles that didn’t exist under his jacket gave sign that this wasn’t what he was made for. Something was odd and wrong with the way he treated the others, and how he reacted to his name. Since he didn’t. It was first after a bit of shouting that he would turn his face up and acknowledge the shouter. The gossip was first that he was a bit deaf, but he did hear everything perfectly, and had a good sense of tune as well. He was surely a mystery.
Even though her mother disapproved, she was very often interested and trapped by the simple ways the house was rune. Since she was so interested in the maids work, she had often asked to do it. It was her way of killing time when she was alone and not so keen on sewing. Quickly she became good friends with the servants and keepers in the house. She was always welcome in their conversations and company. These friends hade helped her trough many hardship.
And that was how she heard from him the first time.
She had been sitting on the bench in the kitchen for a couple of hours now. The family was out, visiting someone most likely. She was supposed to be sewing and drawing, but the ones who would check on her rather saw her in the kitchen were she at least gained some roses on her cheeks.
The chef was preparing the dinner, the cooker helped him and the kitchen maid was organizing the plates and pans while she was talking to her mistress. All the time there were stabelboys, keepers, footmen, maids and gardeners running in and out of the doors. But no one bothered; they only liked the company of each other, no matter of how many they were.
The kitchen maid, who’s name was Anne, hade news from the village. She hade been there earlier this morning, and she told here mistress every little und of information she had gained. All from how the priest hade watered his roses to the size of her sisters’ baby-daughters toes.
“Oh, miss, you should’ve seen her.” Anne wasn’t at all bothered by the way the pan slammed when they hit each other. Her blond hair was lurking under her cap, and her eyes glittered with excitement. “So beautiful and fat, oh, how fat she was. I wonder if all babies is that fat. I sure hope mine will be.” She flushed briefly, but carried on talking. “Not that I have thought of that before, but maybe it’s getting time for a girl to get a man.” She looked out the window, as if her future husband stood right outside.
“Anne, don’t be foolish.” The cooker, mrs Wilkins, had seen her. “Sooner or later there is a man stepping in side your door, commanding you to marry him and there aren’t nothing you can do about it.”
“Oh no,” Anne hissed “ Oh no, of course not. I’m talking about love, mrs Wilkins. A love so sweet that…” she looked around for an example of sweetness. “…that not even mr Jenkins cherry pie can top it off.”
“Are you offending my cherry pie, Anne?” He didn’t turn around to look at her, but they all knew that he was smiling.
“Of course not, mr Jenkins. I would never.”
“Dear Anne, don’t you understand. There is nothing sweeter than my pie, let alone love.”
“You are completely right, Jenkins.” Mrs Wilkins nodded her great head towards him, they totally agreed. Anne leaped up and sat down beside her mistress on the bench, starring out in the distant, probably dreaming about her prince charming. She rocked side to side, taking her mistress under the arm.
“Don’t you believe that there is such a love, miss?” She asked, still rocking, still locking in the distant.
“I don’t know.” The answer was. “But it’s hard to imagine anything sweeter than mr Jenkins cherry pies.”
“Oh, forget about the pies, you all are surely teasing me about them. I mean, don’t you think you can find someone, fall in love with him and spend the rest of your days happy with him. Don’t you believe that?” Anne looked at her with tense eyes. Like only because this young lade was well educated in language, history and art she would know the inner meanings of men and women’s hearts. She didn’t, she hade never herself meet this “love”, she hade harshly read about it in books. But something was she able to see in the kitchen. Mrs Wilkins had been hurt, probably was being hurt, and so was mr Jenkins. Anne, who only was 18, was still ignorant and didn’t know anything of the pain of love. She couldn’t see the dark parts, the backsides of love just yet.
“If I’m to be honesty, I don’t know.” That was all she could say from the impressions she had received. “What I have known it is almost only in stories and books things have a happy ending. So I don’t know if there is something like a happy ending, or a happy life, in the real world as well, that’s all. But if that’s what you want to believe, I would like that to, it would have been nice.” Anne nodded like she had had a define yes; there are everlasting love. Mr Jenkins and mrs Wilkins turned back to the food.
“Did I overhear something about love? Eternal love, perhaps?” Leslie, one of the stabelboys, had put his head trough the window. “I would gladly take you Anne, and do my best with eternal love.”
“Oh, would you do that?” Anne was shining with happiness, and threw her arm around his neck.
“Indeed I would. And that baby of yours, that will you have, in let’s say, about nine months.” A damp dishtowel was thrown in his face.
“Watch your mouth boy!” Mr Jenkins pointed angrily at Leslie.
“I didn’t mean any harm, sir.”
“Watch it either way! There’s a lady present.”
“That wasn’t very nice sir, personally I can count to three ladies in the room.”
“Don’t try to be smart.”
“I’m not.” He looked with, pretended, soft eyes at Anne. “I can’t accept anyone to think low of my fiancée.” Anne gave up a shriek and threw herself at him. He almost fell backwards, out through the window again.
“I completely adore this man.”
“For how long?” Muttered mrs Wilkins “Ten seconds.”
“Ten seconds is always the first ten seconds in eternity.”
“That was beautifully said.”
“Well thank you.”
“That is not the point! You two are very bad influence on the young lady.” The two in the window looked surprised at mrs Wilkins. The mistress waved.
“I think she means me.”
“And you know I’m right, miss. If your mother puts two and two together after seeing that your manners are getting bad, she will never let you alone again. Watch your every step, she will.”
“Oh, that would be terrible, wouldn’t it, Leslie.”
“Indeed it would.”
“Then you two, especially you Leslie, be quite and not speak of so foul things in front of the mistress.” But Leslie blinked at his mistress and shrugged.
“See you later, love.” Leslie disappeared out trough the window and Anne went back to her pans. The other tree in the room followed her tensely.
“What?” She asked when she turned around and saw it. “I know he was only joking.” Mr Jenkins breathed out, and mrs Wilkins just shook her head.
“But…”
“Oh, miss, don’t trouble your little head with what you don’t know about.”
“I don’t like being treated like a child.” That made Anne mad.
“Well, I don’t like being treated like a maid. But here we are, both in positions we cannot change. You, a child, and I, a maid. We all just have to deal with what God gives us.”
“How many times do I have to tell you youngsters to watch your mouths in company of the mistress!” Mrs Wilkins was truly angry this time. As well was the mistress.
“Don’t bother, mrs Wilkins, I would rather not see myself spoiled. Thank you for the tea.”
“No, miss, don’t.” But she had already walked out the door and didn’t hear them calling her back.
“Now see what you’ve done, Anne. I can put my right hand on that she’ll have a seizure before she closes the gate.”
The sun was too bright for her unaccustomed eyes. And it was to hot, she couldn’t breath in the heavy dress, it was too tightly tied. This idiotic clothes, what were they for, but not for keeping her inside a day like this. She looked around, discovered the shirts and trousers of the men. If she only could have worn that.
The little iron gate to the rose garden swung open with a bare touch, and she closed it behind her. Anne was so mean sometimes. She knew she was youngest in the house, but who would like that being thrown in the face. Especially when they minutes earlier discussed love like equals. That was the way she would like to se Anne, mrs Wilkins and mr Jenkins, as equals. She felt the smooth petals of the different roses against her hands on the walk.
The sun was even stronger now, and she began to feel a little dizzy. Maybe it was time to get back into the kitchen, get some more tea. But she didn’t want to meet Anne in a while, even though the smartest thing would have been to swallow her pride. The sweat started to ran from her forehead, but it wasn’t from the warmth. She recognized a seizure when she was about to get one, and she was about to get one. Soon she started coughing and no air was able to get to her lungs. The world spanned faster and faster around her, and she fainted beneath the only bush of purple roses in the garden.
She woke up, and found herself being carried. She could see the clouds racing over her head. But none of them looked like anything special today. They would never appear in any certain way for her, as they did for others.
It took awhile for her to really understand that she was carried. She lay in someone’s arms, helplessly dangling with her head, arms and legs. The carrier was not used to carry ladies in his arms. His breathing was troubled, and she could feel the strong beat of his heart trough the chest. That wasn’t all she could hear.
“Oh, this is just great. First real day, and what do I find, but an unconscious woman in the garden. I didn’t think this life would be so…” But he stopped, probably by the now really heavy breathing that came from carrying her, while running, and obviously, talking. She felt a bit sorry for him.
“Excuse me sir.” She said, but regretted it at one. The fright it gave him almost made him drop her.
“I’m so sorry, miss. Shall I let you down?” She started to feel dizzy again, and was afraid she would be sick.
“Yes please.” He looked around, found the shadow of a big oak, and put her very gingerly under it. The sickness was coming more strongly at her trout, and she closed her eyes to shut out the piercing light between the branches of the tree.
“How are you feeling?” She felt his smooth hand wipe away the sweet pearls on her forehead, along with the locks of hair that had gotten free from the knot in the back. The hand was cold, or at least colder then her skin. Maybe she had gotten one of her fevers as well.
“Sick.” She breathed. He continued to stroke her head and hair, his breathing were more even now.
“Do you need to throw up? Should I get someone?” She shook her head.
“No.” she whispered, for tree reasons. One, she wouldn’t like to stress everyone as she always did when she had a seizure. Two, she did already feel better, the sickness and dizziness was going away. Tree, she just didn’t want him to leave. “I’m already feeling better.” That was the only reason she could tell him.
“Are you sure? You still are not looking so well.”
“I do never look like I am well. That is a common known fact.” Slowly, like if she was afraid of the sunlight, she opened her eyes. He was kneeling beside her, with a small wrinkle between the eyebrows. He wore one of the sunhats the gardeners used to were, and under it his hair had the same colour as the wood of the oak. His face was handsome, not perfect but good enough for reality. The shirt was to big for him, he was rather thin and didn’t have many muscles, yet, she supposed. She knew every name of every person that was hired in the household, but she didn’t recognize him.
“What is your name?” He froze, with his hand inches from her cheek.
“I’m Joel, just recently got a job here. And you are, miss?”
“Oh, just call me Violet.”
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