The Beauty Of Rose

S P I E S

A/N: Hey guys! Merrryyyy Christmas and Happy Holidays! (I started updating on Christmas Eve) Look, @foriegners2 a gift
Q: Do you think the baby is Matthew's?
A: Whaleeee, I meannnnn. Trust your own judgement on this one.
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VIII

"Well she's as good as declared war hasn't she?"

"Madame?" Bert asked.

"War, I repeated impatiently, she's declared war. Drawing blood and that sort of thing. She's started something, and I don't intend to ignore it."

"Yes Madam. I believe that she..it seems she has," he answered. I grabbed the clump of thorns and tossed it aside.

"Do tell me what I should do next. I do believe that you're quite a wise old man and not just because of the information you've fed me. But on the subject of what you know, you seem to have great insight on the going-ons of the Whitfield Mansion, particularly concerning Victoria. Not to mention the fact that you've proved yourself to be more than trustworthy. So I ask Bert, please, tell me what my next move is," I implored. His gaze became shifty. "Why do you look away?"

"I should..I should begin to attend to my duties now Madame," was his reply. Annoyance began to bite at my heels. But more than that. I was hurt.

"So this is truly where I am? I make myself privy to someone, a house hand for God's sake, and they cannot return any feelings of companionship! Goodness, have I really grown that pathetic?" Again Bert gave me the type of look that indicated that my behavior leaned toward pure foolishness. He drew very close to me, eyes grave but kind.

"Cunning like the devil, he whispered, is that not how I described her? How do you think she'll figure it when I am in your bed chambers, discussing with you privately? How do you think she'll figure it when she realizes, as the eldest house hand, I see everything. Are you trying to attract suspicion, more malice? Making our companionship obvious would make you-us-lose the only upper hand we have. No Madame, I must attend to my duties." With that word and the trace of a smile, he was gone. I had to smile myself. Maybe I was finding friendship in the heart of a man many years beyond my age and several places beneath me but at least I knew it would last. That it was true. After donning a sweater, I decided to visit the gardens.

🥀

Upon viewing a particularly exceptional section of petunias, I spotted someone. Or heard. I can't honestly say which sense came first. All I can conclude for certain was that Frances DuBois was in my garden. I froze where I was to look over him in complete perplexity and confusion. What in the name of, let's say Victoria for our purposes, was Frances doing here? I was instantly on high alert. There was absolutely no reason to trust Frances, never mind his babble at the ball. The dislike between us was mutual, only his extended into the type of iciness that was uncalled for. The question that arose in my mind was simple: Why was he here without calling on me or others in the house?

As his back was turned, I advanced upon him very slowly, scrutinizing him further. Several feet from us, in the corner of a bush, was dear Uncle Hector. It was hard to make out his actions with him being so far away. But so far it looked as if he was smoking a cigar. Then his lips started to move, his head turned elsewhere. He was talking to someone, that much was sure. But whom? I watched Uncle Hector intently while tactfully weighing whether I should confront Frances or not. Almost as soon as I came to a decision, he turned. I expected him to redden or his face to contort with discomfort at an unwelcome surprise. But he remained perfectly calm. "Victoria. Your uncle is talking to Victoria," he said.