Amanda's Story

The Garden Party

Amanda had eaten more than her quivering stomach would oblige her. Indeed, it had all looked so good, and the mood of the party was of indulgence—the guests reveled in relief and refreshment, now that spring was come. She'd been swept up in the grandness of the buffet, and now a disenchanted grumbling sound betrayed her lack of restraint. She excused herself to walk for a bit, hoping for a light breeze near the pond.

The Cressy's home, Kipling Hall, was not much talked of. It had been built in the Tudor style and was only moderately adapted as generations passed through the hall. The current owners had spoken of refurbishing, but plans were still being made. Their family seat was a bit gloomy in aspect, down to the stone tower on the corner and the wood-beamed cornices. The steep-pitched roof loomed high above the yard, and the many gabled windows seemed like eyes that stared at the guests.

Amanda found the gloomy reputation of the hall true enough, but no one had spoken nearly enough of the grounds. The grass lay verdant and smooth, right up to the patio at the back doors. The hedges that fenced in the nearest garden were cultivated in a way that made them seem wild, yet well tended. Trees were blooming in purple buds, their branches draping like garlands over the flowerbeds below. The gravel paths had a natural meandering direction, winding from the hall to the outbuildings to the ha-ha and out along the fishing stream. She followed this path now to the small pond, not much more than a shaded widening of the stream. She rested her back against the bark of a small oak and pulled her bonnet off. She breathed through her nose, pressing her lips together and refusing to allow her stomach to rebel further.

Voices and laughter reached her, and she looked over her shoulder. A small party moved further along the path, in the direction of the stables. She recognized Ellen Cressy and Phoebe, linking arms with each other, while several young men escorted ahead or behind.

Amanda squinted. One of the men—yes, it must be Devyn Watson. He looked more dashing, now that he wasn't wrapped in scarves and red-cheeked in the winter cold. Phoebe seemed to have the same impression, her smile beaming as bright as the spring sunlight. His brother wasn't with him. She had seen him once at the start of the party, but the crowds had parted in the last hour and guests seemed to disappear.

After the group paraded out of sight, Amanda turned her thoughts to the reflection in the pond. She still was surprised when she saw herself in a color other than gray and black. She bent, carefully sweeping her skirts to the side, then picked up a pebble and cast it in the pond. Her reflection broke, then rippled in concentric circles moving ever outward.

She tossed another stone. The water splashed, rippled, then settled into a smooth surface again.

Another splash broke the surface, and Amanda jumped back on her feet. She looked around for the tosser of the stone. No one was around.

Her brows knit in concern. Certainly someone had thrown the rock. It couldn't have been a nut from the tree branch above...

"Ah, you've spotted me."

Amanda gaped at the two feet that dangled above and to the right. She backed up quickly, peering into the dappled branches. "Mr. Watson. I believe it was you who declared, last time, that we meet so unexpectedly. I never expected you in a tree."

He laughed, leaning down and wrapping his arms around the branch that supported him. "I didn't want to startle you. But if I stayed up here much longer, I think my legs would fall asleep." He began to climb down, scrambling and sliding the last few feet until he dropped onto the ground beside her.

"As I mentioned when I saw you in town, I had hoped to see you today. I just didn't mean to be so... unconventional in the time or place."

She tipped her head to the side, considering. "Then, excuse my asking, but why would you go up a tree?"