Wilting Roses (Formerly known as Arranged)

Falling Harder

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~Chapter Thirteen~

Scarlett descended the stairs and stopped mid step only to realize that she could spare the time to step out for a moment. The absence of being outdoors had begun to unsettle her as she thought of it and without thinking twice, she made her way out the front door. The front sod to the mansion also held a garden of dark red roses, some of the thorn vines descending past the top floor. To her good fortune Mr. Finckle, the gardener, toiled about the large bushes of red thorn roses, taking whatever dead stem or pedal that had weakened and died. Optimistically she approached him with a warm greeting and quietly stood at his side observing him work.

His white covered set of hair reminded her of Dathan's father, along with the saddened grey eyes. Of course, none of that fooled her, for he was a rather cheerful man. She knew very well that he was the only man that knew about where she stole off to at night, but both preferred never to approach the subject. Scarlett found it healthier this way, the last thing she sought was for word to get to her husband.

"How are the roses coming about?" Scarlett asked, sitting her hands behind her back.

"Just lovely, they bloom prettier every day." he replied, as he bent forward to pull a couple of weeds from the thorny bushes. "How is our young Master recovering?"

"He recovers his strength day by day, his progress moves quickly."

Scarlett felt the wind gush and savored the fresh hair invading everything in its path. So lifting her gaze to the sky, she observed the clouds growing dark. It had not rained in a couple of days and she always loved sitting near her windowsill listening to the rain as she painted yet another portrait.

"The rain will help in watering the plants this evening," she then said.

"Takes all the work off my hands my lady, and so too will your garden be watered." He said.

The only response she gave him was a smile as she proceeded to avoid the subject and ask many questions about various flowers she was fond of. She came to find that Mr. Finckle was an easy man to talk to and spent almost the hour outside soaking in whatever sun light was shining through the dark gray clouds. To close, she excused herself from his side and sauntered inside to ensure that her husband was well.

Scarlett felt there was no longer the need to knock on his study door and turned the knob to walk in unexpected. To her revelation, Camille sat on top of his desk while she ran her slender fingers through his dark lock of hair. His eyes shifted to fasten with hers and Camille followed turning over her shoulder to glower in her direction. The atmosphere abruptly grew immensely profuse as Scarlett tried to breathe as sturdy as she could. Her mouth twitched as she fought to surface words to break the tension in the air.

Her mind scrambled about and for only a moment did she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. There would be unquestionably no shying around this woman, Scarlett had to grow accustom to seeing them like this.

"Was there something that you needed?" Dathan asked. His hand lifted only to gently pull Camille's hand away from his hair. Scarlett watched the way he carefully placed it over her lap and pulled away from her grasp.

"I was going to ask the same question." She whispered.

"He is preoccupied at the moment?" Camille replied, before Dathan could respond.

A small growl rumbled at her throat as she pressed her lips into a thin line and bit down on the smart remark she wanted to blurt out. Instead, she waited on his reply still and ignored hers.