Read Online Hounds of Autumn by Heather Blackwood - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Heather Blackwood
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outside, wandering the grounds. And we still have half an hour until we leave for the church.”
“I’ll go,” said Chloe. She needed to get away from the people and the festive atmosphere. The plants may not miss Camille, but they wouldn’t be celebrating her death either. Ambrose asked about the plants, and after Robert told him that the greenhouse was filled with only ordinary plants and had nothing exotic, he declined to join them. Robert and Chloe passed into the hallway, and out a pair of double French doors. The air outdoors was chilly, and a bit of wind whipped Chloe’s skirts.
“Over there,” said Robert, hurrying toward the large greenhouse at the edge of the grounds. He had been correct about a few souls walking through the garden, but no one appeared to be inside the greenhouse. Perhaps they shouldn’t go, Chloe thought. She despised the idea of being one of the guests who acted as if this were a garden party. But Robert was so eager, and with others wandering around, she hoped no one would mind. Robert held the door and they entered the greenhouse together.
The warm humidity of the interior was a comfort after the cold outside. Moisture beaded on the windows and the air was thick with the scent of wet soil, mulch and growing things.
“I like to come here when we visit the Grangers,” Robert said. “The people are pleasant enough. But it’s so quiet here.” She could tell he was more relaxed in this place than among people.
“The plants are indeed quiet,” she said, leaning over a miniature pink rose.
“I think I’d like a greenhouse like this someday.”
They spent a quarter of an hour examining the plants, noting which were sprouting and the very few in need of repotting.
“I think I’m going to go back inside,” said Chloe.
“I’ll be inside in ten minutes.”
As Chloe rounded the greenhouse to go back inside, she discovered an aging mechanical parked under a potting bench. It looked like an older model garden mechanical. You could load it up with soil and pots and it would follow you around the garden. But it was rusted. How odd that Camille would allow such a thing. Chloe’s household mechanicals were always in perfect working order, and she could not imagine someone like her allowing one to fall into such a state of disrepair. She dragged it out from its place. While Robert poked around at the plants, she pulled it open, examined and prodded inside. He noticed her looking at something and came out.
“I can have this working in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. It only needs oil and a good cleaning, but mechanically, the regulator is the only faulty part,” she said.
Robert nodded, but looked uncomfortable at her poking around in a mechanical.
“Here,” she pried out the regulator box. “A few minutes, and it will be all fixed.”
Robert’s eyebrows rose at the sight of her filthy hands and the grease-covered box. She sighed.
“Wouldn’t you like to go back inside?” he said.
“Just give me a minute.” She rotated a piece until she heard a satisfying click.
“Are you certain you don’t want to go in?” Robert asked.
“You can go on without me.”
Robert didn’t move. Of course, he didn’t want to return to the festivities any more than she did. He returned to the greenhouse.
She was careful to keep the oil and grease off her dress as she worked. She needed a small spanner and one of the gears was stripped. She had the parts at home, but then, Camille had a laboratory. She looked up at the house’s windows, wondering which one might be the right room. Maybe it was not even on this side of the house. It would be the height of rudeness to be discovered wandering around a house uninvited, during a memorial gathering. But the laboratory—it was here. All of Camille’s work was here.
It was too much to resist. She wrapped the regulator in an oily cloth from the bench and held it out carefully. If anyone asked her, she could explain her presence with it and
“I’ll go,” said Chloe. She needed to get away from the people and the festive atmosphere. The plants may not miss Camille, but they wouldn’t be celebrating her death either. Ambrose asked about the plants, and after Robert told him that the greenhouse was filled with only ordinary plants and had nothing exotic, he declined to join them. Robert and Chloe passed into the hallway, and out a pair of double French doors. The air outdoors was chilly, and a bit of wind whipped Chloe’s skirts.
“Over there,” said Robert, hurrying toward the large greenhouse at the edge of the grounds. He had been correct about a few souls walking through the garden, but no one appeared to be inside the greenhouse. Perhaps they shouldn’t go, Chloe thought. She despised the idea of being one of the guests who acted as if this were a garden party. But Robert was so eager, and with others wandering around, she hoped no one would mind. Robert held the door and they entered the greenhouse together.
The warm humidity of the interior was a comfort after the cold outside. Moisture beaded on the windows and the air was thick with the scent of wet soil, mulch and growing things.
“I like to come here when we visit the Grangers,” Robert said. “The people are pleasant enough. But it’s so quiet here.” She could tell he was more relaxed in this place than among people.
“The plants are indeed quiet,” she said, leaning over a miniature pink rose.
“I think I’d like a greenhouse like this someday.”
They spent a quarter of an hour examining the plants, noting which were sprouting and the very few in need of repotting.
“I think I’m going to go back inside,” said Chloe.
“I’ll be inside in ten minutes.”
As Chloe rounded the greenhouse to go back inside, she discovered an aging mechanical parked under a potting bench. It looked like an older model garden mechanical. You could load it up with soil and pots and it would follow you around the garden. But it was rusted. How odd that Camille would allow such a thing. Chloe’s household mechanicals were always in perfect working order, and she could not imagine someone like her allowing one to fall into such a state of disrepair. She dragged it out from its place. While Robert poked around at the plants, she pulled it open, examined and prodded inside. He noticed her looking at something and came out.
“I can have this working in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. It only needs oil and a good cleaning, but mechanically, the regulator is the only faulty part,” she said.
Robert nodded, but looked uncomfortable at her poking around in a mechanical.
“Here,” she pried out the regulator box. “A few minutes, and it will be all fixed.”
Robert’s eyebrows rose at the sight of her filthy hands and the grease-covered box. She sighed.
“Wouldn’t you like to go back inside?” he said.
“Just give me a minute.” She rotated a piece until she heard a satisfying click.
“Are you certain you don’t want to go in?” Robert asked.
“You can go on without me.”
Robert didn’t move. Of course, he didn’t want to return to the festivities any more than she did. He returned to the greenhouse.
She was careful to keep the oil and grease off her dress as she worked. She needed a small spanner and one of the gears was stripped. She had the parts at home, but then, Camille had a laboratory. She looked up at the house’s windows, wondering which one might be the right room. Maybe it was not even on this side of the house. It would be the height of rudeness to be discovered wandering around a house uninvited, during a memorial gathering. But the laboratory—it was here. All of Camille’s work was here.
It was too much to resist. She wrapped the regulator in an oily cloth from the bench and held it out carefully. If anyone asked her, she could explain her presence with it and
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