Bride Behind the Mask

Chapter 5: One Step Forward (Part 1 of 2)

Dedicated to a random commenter - thank you for your continued support @stormbreaker_h :)

Chapter 5: One Step Forward (Part 1 of 2)

"Gardener! I want the Gaaaardener!" Amelia screeched as she bobbed up and down the hallways of Steersberg Manor. This morning, she sported a large green and brown dress, one which reflected the ire and gloom that bubbled inside of her.

She had woken with painful aches racking her head and body—the result of sleeping in a an overly padded skirt and stiff wig. Confused, it had taken her several moments of staring blankly at the ceiling to recall the events of the night past.

Drake Rohan.

Every damned thing in her present life came down to Drake Rohan. But in a world where men could freely divorce their wives and women had as much say in it as cattle being traded at the markets did, she needed to force his hand for her freedom.

"GAAAARDENERRRR!" Amelia raised her voice impossibly louder as she stomped her way up to Drake's living quarters.

She had waited in her room all night for him, entirely confident that he would come knocking, yelling and banging at her door as he did the night before, at which point she would have confessed her 'beastly' crime and he would have thrown her out his house. After all, she had ridiculed Isabella, slapped him, set off firecrackers, changed his meals, and let pigs and chickens in his room—all in two days' time.

And yet, while she remembered drifting off to sleep against a bedpost and dreaming of a warrior's loud battle cry, she remembered not of any abuse against her door.

There was only one conclusion: the Emir of Steersberg had a strange liking for cuddling up with beasts. Wretched Northman!

Amelia grimaced as she stepped on a small bone just outside of Drake's bedchamber. She swept it aside with a foot and turned to glower at the closed door. "Gaaaaaardnerrrrrr!" she cried out her rage. "Heigh, GAAAAARDNERRRRRRRR!" As her gaze fell to the brass keyhole, her lips curled into a proud smirk; her lock-picking skill was a quiet talent that surpassed her husband's brute force.

Feeling a smidgen more satisfied, Amelia turned on her heel and continued her scream-filled stroll around the manor until a pair of sleepy-eyed maids hustled her out to the manor grounds and pointed to a narrow cobbled path that would lead her to the gardener's hut. She doubted the gardener had much to offer towards her 'mission'. But if she had to stay here a little longer, knowing her way outside was better than curling up in her chambers.

As she had seen from her bedchamber, the garden was plain, its only colours coming from the wild dandelions and daisies that lined either side of the stone trail and dusted soft specks of white and yellow across the sea of neatly trimmed grass. She skipped clumsily along the winding path, stopping now and then to breathe in the scent of earth and nature at their purest. What a regular Southerner might find dull and crude brought on a remarkable calmness she had never felt before. If she was to stay and be the lady—or prisoner—of Steersberg Manor, a garden like this would give her plenty of room to plant...

Oh, herbs! The path had led her to a wooden hut surrounded by bushels of herbs grown in wooden crates and pots of varying depth and sizes. As she took a mental count of the species in this hidden sanctuary, excitement bubbled in her chest. If there was one thing she did learn well, it was the art of herbs. What better excuse to spend all day in the fields? She had come to love it for the mere reason that her father accepted the excuse.

At the sound of her approach, a slender man rose from his crouched position behind a large pot of rosemary. Surprise and confusion flashed across his youthful features before he smiled timidly. "M'lady? What brings you here?" he greeted, awkwardly patting off the dirt from his hands on his tunic.