teacher.”
“I saw yesterday that she had what seemed to be a tattooed bracelet. Another of the”—he groped for the word— “mehndi?”
“Aye. She was in a playful mood.”
Glad to relinquish the nightmare vision of a small girl being stabbed with needles, Dominic entered the shed. A pale spiny creature was curled on top of the stack of large burlap garden sacks. Bemused, he stepped from the shed and remarked, “There’s a white hedgehog sleeping in here.”
“The young mistress’s pet, Snowball. Very rare, the white ones. She found him when he was injured and raised him in a cage. Now he lives free.” Amusement glinted in Kamal’s eyes. “His life is too good for him to wish to leave.”
Dominic had a new mental image, this time of Meriel earnestly catching worms and grubs to feed a young hedgehog. This vision he liked. But how to get the sacks he needed without disturbing Snowball?
After due consideration, he collected all four corners of the top sack, transferred them to one hand, and hoisted the hedgehog while he yanked half a dozen sacks from the pile with his other hand. Then he lowered the top sack and flattened it back into place.
Startled awake, the little animal blinked pink eyes and briefly bristled its spines. Then it curled up again and went back to sleep.
Grinning, Dominic tossed the sacks over one shoulder and went in search of the topiary. The area was on the far side of the garden complex. His map showed that the inner gardens were like a series of rooms designed around a theme such as pond lilies or roses or herbs. Farther out were larger areas designed to give the eye constantly changing vistas. The topiary was such a place. As he walked, he thought about the henna bracelet Meriel had painted on herself. Which wrist? He visualized her reaching, and saw that it was her right wrist. She must be left-handed to have painted that. Yes, she consistently favored her left hand.
Putting together the various things he’d been told about Kyle’s intended bride, he realized that two different states were implied. One was idiocy, a complete lack of normal intelligence. The other was madness. Yet surely it required intelligence and skill to be a good gardener, tame animals, and paint those complex patterns. Her mind might work in unusual ways, but it definitely worked. So she was no idiot. What did it mean to be mad? People tossed the term around casually, but he didn’t really know what madness was. Frothing at the mouth, uncontrollable rages, and wildness were obvious signs of derangement, but Meriel exhibited none of these. Instead, she lived in a private world, incapable of human interaction. Maybe she was only a little mad and might be cured?
He needed to know more. Later he would talk to Meriel’s chaperons, perhaps look in the library to see if there were any texts he could consult.
Dominic crested a gentle hill and looked down over a sweeping vista. To the left, he could see the river that bordered one edge of Warfield, and Castle Hill, topped with Norman ruins. The middle distance showed a quilt of fields and pastures marked by dark hedges. Nearer, the tall stone wall separated the park from the fields. The only sign of human life was a distant gardener patiently rolling turf with a wide stone roller.
His gaze dropped to the area just below, and he caught his breath. The hillside had been turned into a chessboard sculpted from living plants. The board was formed by alternating squares of grass, with half darker than the others. Topiary chess pieces caught a game in progress. Two types of dense evergreen were used, one dark green and the other much lighter, a green gold. Yew and variegated boxwood, Dominic guessed.
The distinctly different colors neatly divided the chess pieces into “black” and “white.” Half a dozen pieces had been taken from the board and set in a cluster to one side. Black appeared to be winning. A flicker of blue fabric appeared near the center of the
“I saw yesterday that she had what seemed to be a tattooed bracelet. Another of the”—he groped for the word— “mehndi?”
“Aye. She was in a playful mood.”
Glad to relinquish the nightmare vision of a small girl being stabbed with needles, Dominic entered the shed. A pale spiny creature was curled on top of the stack of large burlap garden sacks. Bemused, he stepped from the shed and remarked, “There’s a white hedgehog sleeping in here.”
“The young mistress’s pet, Snowball. Very rare, the white ones. She found him when he was injured and raised him in a cage. Now he lives free.” Amusement glinted in Kamal’s eyes. “His life is too good for him to wish to leave.”
Dominic had a new mental image, this time of Meriel earnestly catching worms and grubs to feed a young hedgehog. This vision he liked. But how to get the sacks he needed without disturbing Snowball?
After due consideration, he collected all four corners of the top sack, transferred them to one hand, and hoisted the hedgehog while he yanked half a dozen sacks from the pile with his other hand. Then he lowered the top sack and flattened it back into place.
Startled awake, the little animal blinked pink eyes and briefly bristled its spines. Then it curled up again and went back to sleep.
Grinning, Dominic tossed the sacks over one shoulder and went in search of the topiary. The area was on the far side of the garden complex. His map showed that the inner gardens were like a series of rooms designed around a theme such as pond lilies or roses or herbs. Farther out were larger areas designed to give the eye constantly changing vistas. The topiary was such a place. As he walked, he thought about the henna bracelet Meriel had painted on herself. Which wrist? He visualized her reaching, and saw that it was her right wrist. She must be left-handed to have painted that. Yes, she consistently favored her left hand.
Putting together the various things he’d been told about Kyle’s intended bride, he realized that two different states were implied. One was idiocy, a complete lack of normal intelligence. The other was madness. Yet surely it required intelligence and skill to be a good gardener, tame animals, and paint those complex patterns. Her mind might work in unusual ways, but it definitely worked. So she was no idiot. What did it mean to be mad? People tossed the term around casually, but he didn’t really know what madness was. Frothing at the mouth, uncontrollable rages, and wildness were obvious signs of derangement, but Meriel exhibited none of these. Instead, she lived in a private world, incapable of human interaction. Maybe she was only a little mad and might be cured?
He needed to know more. Later he would talk to Meriel’s chaperons, perhaps look in the library to see if there were any texts he could consult.
Dominic crested a gentle hill and looked down over a sweeping vista. To the left, he could see the river that bordered one edge of Warfield, and Castle Hill, topped with Norman ruins. The middle distance showed a quilt of fields and pastures marked by dark hedges. Nearer, the tall stone wall separated the park from the fields. The only sign of human life was a distant gardener patiently rolling turf with a wide stone roller.
His gaze dropped to the area just below, and he caught his breath. The hillside had been turned into a chessboard sculpted from living plants. The board was formed by alternating squares of grass, with half darker than the others. Topiary chess pieces caught a game in progress. Two types of dense evergreen were used, one dark green and the other much lighter, a green gold. Yew and variegated boxwood, Dominic guessed.
The distinctly different colors neatly divided the chess pieces into “black” and “white.” Half a dozen pieces had been taken from the board and set in a cluster to one side. Black appeared to be winning. A flicker of blue fabric appeared near the center of the
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