The Garden's End (MLM)

CHAPTER SEVEN.

Then Pip remembered. Lord Westcott had wanted him by six every morning. He hoped his expression did not reveal anything of what he felt.

"Certainly," he said, straightening his shoulders and crossing his hands behind his back. "Good morning, my lord."

"We'll see," he said as he walked past Pip. "Morning's hardly begun, after all. Follow me and try not to wake anyone."

Pip did as he was told and followed Lord Westcott down the grand staircases. He thought the man looked a bit like a private investigator, the two of them sneaking away in plain sight to complete a secret case.

Pip assumed they would be going into the drawing room, but Lord Westcott grabbed one of the cloaks hanging on a wooden stand by the door and slung it over his shoulders.

"Where are we going?" asked Pip.

"You'll see," said Lord Westcott, grabbed another cloak of deep grey, and tossed it to Pip. "Best wear that. It's cold out."

"But I—"

"It's one of mine," Lord Westcott said airily and went out the front door. "I'm giving you permission, just put it on."

Pip hesitated, but as he stepped outside, the cold morning air bit into his skin and pinched his nose and cheeks. Pip quickly slid on the coat, unable to help but inhale the scent of parchment and . . . what was that—roses?

The carriage was awaiting them, Mr. Acker completely unsurprised to find them there. Pip opened the carriage door and Lord Westcott slid in. Then he stepped onto the coachbox.

Mr. Acker sniffled, his gloves thick and his jacket thicker. "Looks like it's going to rain."

Pip looked up, the sky a blanket of clouds. "Yes. Mr. Acker, d'you have any idea where we're going?"

Mr. Acker clicked the roof of his mouth with his tongue, and the two horses began to pull them away from Westcott manor.

"See an ol' friend of the Lord's," he said with none of his usual morning joy.

"What old friend?"

"You'll see, Pip," he said in a kind but final tone, patting Pip's arm. "You'll see."

The carriage did not carry them into town as Pip had expected. Instead, they were taken through a forest path with much more space in between the trees than in the forest behind Westcott manor.

The woods ended at a hillcrest, and there at the foot of the valley lay a small house. It was brick-red with a chimney emitting puffs of smoke. It reminded Pip of a storybook illustration, and he imagined a married couple ploughing the fields and having tea amongst the wildflowers. Pip was surprised when the carriage stopped on the narrow dirt road in front of the door. He couldn't imagine Lord Westcott having anything to do with a place like this.

"This can't be right," he muttered.

He opened the carriage door, however, and Lord Westcott did not seem confused at the residence. In fact, he walked right up to the small front door that barely reached his height, and knocked.

A young woman responded, thin as a twig with a long nose and dark circles under her eyes, as though she hadn't slept in months. Pip expected her to gasp with fright at the sight of the young lord, to scurry away and call for someone else, even to close the door in their faces.