The Garden's End (MLM)

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX.

                The storm had stopped sometime during the middle of the night, the grounds now filled with a heavy layer of mist.

Pip stood at Lord Westcott's side the next morning, looking out the windows into the gardens. Lord Hewitt had left an hour ago, three days before his initial plan. He had followed the servants carrying their bags out grumbling to his disinterested wife about improper etiquette and "in all my days!" and "Just like his silly father!"

Needless to say, no one was sad to see him go. It had gotten to be too long a week, and Pip wanted nothing more than to be outside and bury himself next to the apricot trees. There was always the small chance he would catch Oliver watching him from his window.

Pip had stopped by on the way to Lord Westcott's chambers at six, and softly knocked on the door. "Oliver?" he whispered. "It's me."

But Oliver did not seem eager to hear from him. Pip attempted to open the door himself, but for the first time since he could remember, Oliver's chambers were locked to him.

"He'll come out," said Lord Westcott the moment he caught sight of Pip's expression. "Trust me."

And Pip did trust him, but he also overthought everything. (Oh, who did he think he was fooling? Lord Westcott was right, Pip would overthink the sugar in his tea.) And perhaps he could be calmed about anything else, but not when it came to Oliver. Oliver was too important.

Every now and then, his arm would brush Lord Westcott's, or his hand would just graze his, and Pip didn't know whether or not the young lord was doing it on purpose, but it eased his concerns just slightly every time, and his mind would return to where he stood in the dining room where Jane was piling more and more food onto George's plate, apparently wanting to see whether he could eat however much food she offered. For a small boy, he was proving to be quite capable.

Miss Westcott, Miss Bradley, and Lord Westcott were all talking to Jack and Alice.

"I cannot believe how much you've grown!" said Miss Westcott. "Robbie, why didn't you tell us you've been visiting the Daltons? I would've liked to go with you!"

"And me," said Miss Bradley. "I remember Alice's baking too well."

"Oh, stop it, Helen," said Alice, smiling sheepishly. "You're the same as always, too kind for your own good."

"She really is," said Miss Westcott fondly, covering her hand on the table.

Jack's smile widened. "So you two have gotten together, have you?" He huffed. "Finally."

"That's what I said!" said Miss Bradley happily.

Pip was content with letting them carry on with their conversation without him. He considered asking if he would be allowed to go upstairs and talk to Oliver again, but at the same time, he didn't know what Oliver would say. Oh, why did love have to be so heart-breaking? Pip wished he'd never discovered his true feelings, and especially not Oliver's.

Pip only realized how distracted he'd been when Alice came around the table to him, hooking her arm around his.

"Come," she said, and Pip looked back at the table to see if Lord Westcott would object. He did not.

Alice pulled him along to the window, far from where the others would overhear them, and they each stood on opposite ends, staring out into the gardens.

Her smile was soft as she regarded the flowerbeds outside, the trees, the rose bushes. Even under the tarps, the vibrant poppies and tulips and lilies were clear. "I can't believe you did that all on your own."