Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
E liza Montrose knelt in the dirt, focused intently on pruning her roses. As she snipped each stem with care, shaping the bush into a perfect round, her hands became caked with soil. She tenderly caressed the soft petals of a newly opened bloom, smiling as its sweet fragrance filled the air.
Her dark hair fell into her eyes, and she tucked the stray curl behind her ear. Leaning in closer, she inspected the leaves for any signs of aphids or mildew. Satisfied that her roses were free of pests, she moved down the row, scrutinizing each plant. Eliza plucked off dead leaves and pulled the occasional weed that dared to intrude on her meticulously maintained garden.
Eliza stood back, admiring her work. Her garden had blossomed into a sanctuary over the past three months, ever since she moved to the cottage nestled on the outskirts of Brighton. Once overgrown and neglected, it now flourished with vibrant tulips, daffodils, rose bushes, and neat rows of vegetables—all a reflection of her hard work and dedication.
The cottage itself, with its ivy-clad walls and freshly painted shutters, looked like something out of a fairytale, perched against the cliffs that overlooked the sea. It was exactly what she had wanted—a place of solitude and beauty. Here, she could create order from chaos, design a world that made sense, far from the pressures and expectations of society.
She bent down again, smoothing the soil around a patch of irises. Their purple blossoms swayed gently in the breeze. She admired how they stood tall despite the sea winds. Every flower had its place, every shrub carefully positioned to catch the light just so.
As the morning wore on, the sun climbed high overhead. Eliza wiped her brow, smudging dirt across her forehead. Despite the heat, she continued working, unwilling to leave a task unfinished. The garden required constant vigilance, but she did not mind the labor.
"Eliza! Eliza!" came the familiar voice of Lady Margaret Crawford from the path.
Eliza straightened, brushing the dirt from her apron. She waved her friend over. "I'm back here," she called. "The same as every morning."
Margaret appeared, her eyes sweeping over the garden. "I should have known," she said, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. "It's nearly evening, and here you are, still toiling away. Don't tell me you've forgotten about the Assembly tonight." Her eyes held some hope.
Eliza wiped her hands on her apron. "I haven't forgotten. I'm simply choosing not to go."
Margaret frowned, adjusting the folds of her gown to avoid brushing against the dirt. "Eliza, you spend far too much time out here. It's as if you're hiding from something."
"I'm not hiding," Eliza said, returning her attention to a wilting rose. "I'm simply focused on what matters. This rose needs me, not the Assembly."
Margaret bent down to smell a cluster of newly blossomed roses, a smile spreading across her face. "Your garden is coming along beautifully. You must be so proud."
Eliza looked up and smiled, relieved that Margaret had seemed to drop the subject of the Assembly for the present. "Thank you, Margaret. It's been a lot of work, but seeing it flourish makes it all worthwhile."
Margaret sighed, glancing around the garden. "Your roses are exquisite, but they won't keep you company forever. You're not an old spinster yet, you know."
Eliza chuckled, wiping her hands on her apron. So her friend hadn't dropped the subject. She was just coming at it from a different direction. Eliza knew the only way to end this conversation for good was to be direct. "At twenty-six, I'm well on my way."
"Nonsense," Margaret said with a dismissive wave. " You're barely twenty-six, Eliza. That is hardly on the shelf."
Eliza avoided her friend's gaze, staring off to the sea that lay just beyond her property fence. The water was a safe place to focus. "There are debutantes galore in Brighton. I shall not be able to compete with them."
"Not everyone is looking for a debutante. There are still plenty of eligible gentlemen—"
"None of whom I'm interested in," Eliza interrupted, straightening. "I'm content, Margaret. Truly."
Margaret walked over and gently placed a hand on Eliza's shoulder. "Content, perhaps. But are you happy? Truly happy?"
Eliza paused, looking out over her garden. The colorful blooms swayed gently in the sea breeze.
Yet, there was a hint of melancholy reaching in at the corners of her mind. Margaret's question tugged at something deep inside her. She shook her head, unwilling to examine it too closely. "Happiness is a luxury, Margaret. Right now, my priority is creating something beautiful out of this little corner of the world that will last."
Margaret gave her a sympathetic smile. "You deserve more than just contentment, Eliza. You deserve to be happy and to find someone who appreciates you for the wonderful person you are. Wouldn't your mother want to see you married, if she were alive? "
Eliza turned to her friend, her expression softening. Though Eliza and Margaret had become close since Eliza moved to Brighton, Margaret hadn't been privy to the suffering her mother had endured. Eliza's smile faded slightly as her thoughts turned to her mother. The woman had been miserable in her marriage to Eliza's remote father. Never able to make her own choices, bound by duty and propriety. Eliza's jaw tightened. Margaret was only aware of her mother's health issues, not the way she'd been treated by Eliza's father.
Eliza would not share the same fate. She doubted very much that her mother would want her to end up in a loveless marriage like she'd witnessed. But Margaret didn't need to know all of that. So instead, Eliza fixed a smile on her face. "Maybe someday, Margaret. But for now, I have my garden. And it's enough."
Margaret sighed but nodded, knowing her friend well enough not to push further. "All right, Eliza. Just promise me you won't close yourself off completely. The world has a way of surprising us when we least expect it. Brighton is a place where you can fall in love."
Eliza spread her arms open wide. "I've already fallen in love with Brighton and all its beauty," she said, looking toward the edge of her property where there was a path that led directly to the water.
"You know what I mean," Margaret said. "Promise me."
"Very well. I promise I will not close myself off completely. And I shall join you in the future at the Assemblies. Are you satisfied now, Margaret?"
Margaret grinned. "Yes."
Eliza glanced toward her neighbor's yard. The low hedge did little to block the view of the unkempt grounds and gardens. It was an eyesore that had not changed since she'd arrived in Brighton three months ago. She wished the owner would take some pride in their land. Her brows scrunched together.
The cottage she lived in used to be the caretaker's residence for the grand estate next to her. But like the estate, her cottage had been vacant for years before she had purchased it. The imposing manor's garden that bordered her own was so wild and overgrown. Surely, it was time someone did something about it.
Margaret tilted her head. "What is wrong, Eliza? You look deep in thought."
Eliza shook her head. "It is nothing. I was just thinking about the need for pruning roses." She looked down at the spot she'd been working on. "But no matter. They could use a bit more care, but I believe that we have some tea waiting inside—if you would like to join me." She cut a single pink rose and put it into her basket. It would be a lovely addition to have a freshly cut rose on the table.
Margaret laughed, linking her arm with Eliza's. "Tea and roses, it is. Lead the way, my dear friend. I should love to be in your company until I go to the Assembly this evening. "
During the tea, Eliza listened to Margaret, who spoke non-stop about the residents of Brighton. It was clear that Lady Margaret was well-connected. If Eliza ever wanted to know anything about anyone in the town, she had only to ask.
Eliza set her cup on her saucer. "Margaret, can you tell me about the property next door? I have called several times over the last three months, but it appears no one is at home."
Margaret waved her hand in the air. "It belongs to the Blackwood family. That estate is one of many in their possession. It has been years since anyone has lived there, and I imagine that it will be that way for the future."
Eliza tilted her head. She had no other neighbors with her property bordering against the sea. She was happily tucked into the outskirts of Brighton, but she hadn't anticipated that the manor would stay vacant indefinitely. "Why do you think that is?"
Margaret shrugged. "This is not their biggest holding. I imagine it will eventually be passed to someone, but I'm sure that is one of the reasons why your cottage was available for purchase. It wasn't needed as a caretaker's home anymore."
"How long has it been vacant?" Eliza asked.
"Several years. I haven't seen a Blackwood in Brighton since …" Margaret's words trailed off.
Eliza leaned forward. "Since what?" It was most unlike Margaret to hold her tongue when it came to sharing gossip. Normally, Eliza did not participate in the gossip circles, but her curiosity about the owners of the Manor had left her with more questions than answers.
But Margaret only shook her head. "Let us just say that it has been a long time and leave it at that—since before the war."
"I do wish someone lived there."
Margaret raised an eyebrow. "If it's socializing you are looking for, you'll find it in Brighton more than you'll find it on the outskirts. Why not come to the Assembly so that I can introduce you properly? We could have such fun."
"I will come and socialize, but not tonight. I enjoy the solitude out here, but I shouldn't mind if the manor was occupied. My cottage is between the cliffs and this estate, and I would appreciate it if they would clean up their garden."
Margaret nodded. "I wouldn't be surprised if it is sold soon."
"Perhaps I will inquire if it is in the market to be let," Eliza said. And if it was, perhaps she could talk to someone about the state of the grounds.
Margaret smiled. "Perhaps you could come into town with me, and we can inquire together."
Eliza set her teacup down. "That sounds agreeable," she said.
Margaret clapped her hands together. "Excellent."
***
Less than an hour later, Eliza walked out of the solicitor's office with Margaret, completely disappointed. The solicitor would give no information on the family, and only said that the manor would never be let. It was altogether a frustrating experience.
"I was hoping for a neighbor," Eliza said.
"Or at least a groundskeeper that would clean up the eyesore so it doesn't affect your view," Margaret said with a teasing glint in her eye.
Eliza smiled. "There is more truth to that than you may guess."
Margaret nodded. "It's such a shame. Blackwood Manor was once one of the finest in the area, but now it's practically a ruin. You will have to come into town more often for socializing, now that you know you won't have a neighbor any time soon."
Eliza nodded. "I will join you soon at one of the Assemblies. You have my word."
The two stopped at the bakery for a sweet roll before taking the carriage back to Eliza's cottage. As they passed Blackwood Manor, Eliza studied the neglected grounds. The once grand estate was now a tangled mess of weeds and overgrown shrubs, its gardens left to fend for themselves. Much of the estate was too vast to attempt reclaiming, but the gardens and beds that bordered along her property were a smaller section. "It wouldn't take much to restore it," she said, almost to herself. "At least the part near my garden. "
Margaret's eyes widened. "Eliza, what are you saying? You wouldn't dare."
Eliza smiled as the idea took shape in her mind. "Why not? No one's been there in years. And you heard the solicitor—the manor will not be let. I doubt anyone would notice if I made a few improvements. And if they did, it would be a very generous gift from one neighbor to another."
"Eliza," Margaret said, half-amused, half-horrified. "You're not seriously considering sneaking over there to work on someone else's garden."
Eliza shrugged, her pulse quickening at the thought. "It's not as if I'm causing harm. I'd only be tidying up the borders. And who knows? Maybe the Blackwoods would thank me for it."
Margaret laughed, shaking her head. "You're impossible. But if anyone could pull it off, it's you."
The carriage stopped in front of Eliza's house. After she descended from the carriage, she waved to her friend, until the carriage was completely out of sight. Then she picked up her skirts and headed toward the opening in the hedge between the two properties. Gingerly, she stepped through the opening to inspect the overgrown estate, her mind spinning with the possibilities.
From this side of the hedge, the gardens were worse than she'd expected. Several rosebushes had gone wild. Branches were tangled and thick with thorns. Dead wood covered entire areas, and weeds grew in every inch of the garden.
From here, she peered at her own garden, enjoying the new vantage point for the first time. Her garden looked like a work of art. Fiery lilies and cheerful snapdragons nodded in the gentle breeze. Plump tomatoes hung heavy on their vines while carrots and lettuce flourished in neat rows.
It was a stark contrast from the neighboring garden she stood in. The Blackwood Manor grounds were in a worse state than her own had been, but perhaps all they really needed was a little bit of extra care. It wouldn't take long for her to clear out the weeds and prune the roses properly. She would transform it, just as she had transformed her own garden. It would be her own secret project.
Margaret's words felt like a caution. She should not draw attention to herself in this process—but the idea of restoring life to the abandoned garden thrilled her in a way she hadn't expected. It was reckless, bold—but it was also exciting. Possibilities filled her mind. She could add some flowers and transplant some of her own bulbs. Lavender would be lovely next to the roses, and so would the hydrangeas.
Eliza slipped back through the hedge and returned to her own property. She would start early tomorrow morning, before she spent time in her own garden, and she would never see an eyesore from her property again.