As I aimlessly strolled through the expansive gardens of the Château, a question lingered in my mind since morning: Why didn't the Volkners make this fabulous estate their home?
The place was like something out of a movie—an opulent paradise fit for royalty. With a total of 18 meticulously manicured gardens and pristine artificial ponds adorned with stunning bronze sculptures of mermaids and sirens, this mansion surpassed any dream conjured from movies or books.
As I ventured deeper into the estate, I swung open a pair of ornate gates and stepped onto the gravel path of the rose garden. A rush of joy hit me as I took in the sight: a thousand red roses in full bloom, their vibrant petals a testament to nature's artistic touch. Dedicated gardeners worked tirelessly, their commitment evident in the garden's stunning beauty.
"Madame, fancy trying some rose tea?" A middle-aged French lady with silvery blonde hair called out from behind.
I turned to face her, nodding and offering a warm smile.
"Follow me," she grinned, gesturing towards a nearby structure—a shed that looked more like a brick-built house. If this were in central London, it would easily fetch a price tag of at least 10 million pounds.
Inside, to my surprise, it was the gardeners' quarters. Beyond just storing their tools, it featured a sleek modern kitchen, an airy open-concept living area, and an impressively large television. A few guys were deep into a football match, seemingly unfazed by my sudden appearance.
The lady set the kettle to boil, deftly arranging a handful of dry rosebuds and a couple of saffron sprigs into a delicate glass teacup. With precision, she poured the steaming water over these aromatic elements. The saffron responded by weaving its magic, unfurling a captivating golden swirl within the crystal-clear liquid.
"May I ask where this saffron comes from?" I inquired, the luxurious fragrance and the ember colors from the saffron swirled in the warm water on the cup.
"Well, Madame, this saffron is from our Rya Volkner Madame's garden in Kashmir," she replied.
"Who is Rya Volkner?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. How many Volkners were there in this family?
"Oh, you didn't know?" she asked with a hint of concern in her voice. I shook my head, still perplexed.
"She is the sister of Monsieur Royce. She will be visiting here the day after tomorrow, and all the Volkner family members will gather to celebrate multiple birthdays."
The first sip of the rose tea was quite an unpleasant surprise. I was accustomed to the rich flavors of Bengali chai, and this tea was a far cry from that experience. It was tasteless and devoid of the sweetness I was used to. I could not help but find it atrocious. However, I assumed that perhaps this was considered a delicacy among the wealthy, and my taste buds simply were not attuned to it. Despite my distaste, I managed a polite response.
"How is it?"
"Umm, perfect," I lied, forcing another sip. It tasted like nothing more than boiled, rose-flavored water, but the lady seemed content with my lies.
Our conversation came to an abrupt halt as the rhythmic clopping noises of hooves reached us from the other side of the brick walls.
"What's that?" I asked, curious about the source of the sounds.
The lady grabbed a large bucket and secured it at her waist, grunting as she felt the weight. She walked toward me and inquired, "Would you like to see our owls?"
"Owls?" I echoed in surprise.
"Yes, owls."
"Why do you have owls?" I questioned, following her as she left the shed, and we headed toward an open area where the source of the clopping sounds became clear.
YOU ARE READING
Two Villains
RomanceIn this modern fairy tale, Dr. Kaya has faced a tough life since she was eight, her innocence shattered in a home that resembles a hellish prison. She endures a tormented upbringing as her parents exploit her as bait to ensnare men of power and weal...
