Chapter Two

Howard Simpkin came from a family of builders. For generations, the Simpkins had lent their skills to building homes and shops and even the restoration of the grand Beverley Minster. Howard had taken a different road. He was still a builder, but a builder of gardens.

His father had called him every sort of fool when he had first set out on this venture. But Howard had managed to make something of a name for himself in the north of England. He had designed greens in York, garden plots at vicarages. He had built gardening sheds and herb houses. He felt certain that if he could only catch the attention of someone with influence and importance, he could make a roaring success of this occupation he had invented.

Just such an opportunity had at last presented itself. A request had come from Lord Jonquil, the heir of the Earl of Lampton, to design and build a walled garden on his estate in Northumberland. Howard didn’t know very much about Brier Hill, where Lord Jonquil lived, but he knew the area had fertile soil and could grow a lovely garden. He also knew Brier Hill was not a large estate, leastwise when compared with the fine and grand principle estates of the aristocracy. But the size of the job was not nearly as important as how well Howard did his work. If Lord Jonquil was pleased with the results, he would be more likely to recommend Howard to his friends, his fellow gentlemen, perhaps even his parents.

Howard arrived at Brier Hill on the appointed day. He presented himself at the servants’ entrance, as that was what most fine households preferred, and was instructed by the housekeeper to wait beneath a specific tree for His Lordship.

He took the opportunity to survey the area. He was at the side of the house, which offered a lovely view of the nearby hills and mountains. The grass beneath his feet was thick and abundant, a good indication of quality soil. The back lawn was enclosed by a stone fence, which, while not unheard of, was unusual. It was entirely possible Lord Jonquil would wish his garden walls to also be built of stone. Howard would have to inquire as to the availability.

A man approached, a gentleman by his appearance, and one well-to-do. This, no doubt, was Lord Jonquil himself. Howard doffed his hat and dipped his head.

Lord Jonquil’s smile was welcoming and friendly. “Simpkin?”

“Yes, m’lord.”

Lord Jonquil extended his hand and shook Howard’s firmly. “I have kept you waiting, I’m afraid. We have newly arrived guests, and I was assisting my wife in welcoming them.”

Being kept waiting by a patron was not an unusual thing. Having a patron express regret at the inconvenience most certainly was.

“I’ll show you the place where I’ve envisioned the garden”—Lord Jonquil motioned him toward the gate in the stone wall—“and you can tell me if I’m an utter hulver-head.”

Howard blinked a few times.

Lord Jonquil laughed. “I should likely try to at least sound proper, instead of tossing out cant and ridiculousness. You’ll discover Lady Jonquil is far better behaved than I.”

Howard hadn’t the first idea what to make of this aristocrat, with his easy grin and casual saunter.

They passed through the gate and into an expansive, neatly maintained lawn. A few trees created clumps of shade and beauty. Howard followed his potential patron to the back corner.

“Here,” Lord Jonquil said. “This corner is not used for anything, and it has a nice view. I would like the garden to be walled for privacy, but I don’t want to block out so much sunlight that the flowers won’t grow.”

Not all the people Howard worked for recognized the necessity of considering such things. “I don’t think you’ll struggle overly much with that. I can build the new walls a touch lower than the existing ones. That’ll allow a bit of extra light. The flowers and plants what’re needing more sun can be planted away from the walls so they’ll not be in too much shadow.”

Lord Jonquil nodded his approval. “I’d like it to be large enough for a walking path, a couple of benches for sitting, a few trees and shrubs, as well as a good many flowers.”

“Your wife likes flowers, does she?”

“She does.” He spoke the two words a little hesitantly. “But this garden is a wish of mine. I know it is an unusual interest for a man, but I’ve always liked nature: plants and flowers and the rich smell of earth. We have extensive gardens at Lampton Park, and I’ve missed them.”

Howard had not met many men who shared his enjoyment of gardens. Most were somewhat indifferent or preferred gardens that were useful. To have found in his first patron of influence a gentleman who cared personally about the results was a stroke of luck. If the man was pleased, he was likely to talk about it, brag about it, invite others to come see a garden that mattered to him.

They walked around the area where Lord Jonquil wished for his garden to be. Howard asked every question he could think of. His patron asked many as well. This garden was meant to be a mixture of formal and inviting. It was meant to be walled while still needing sunlight. Lord Jonquil was not certain stone could be obtained that matched the existing stone of the wall. All those things would complicate the job.

“If you give me today,” Howard said, “I’ll take measurements and sketch up an idea for you.”

Lord Jonquil nodded. “I look forward to seeing it. Do you need anything to accomplish that?”

“I travel with all I need. I’ve a coach I remade myself. Outwardly, it simply looks like a worn old traveling coach, but the inside is something of a home. I’ve equipment, paper, and pencil lead. I can have something ready for you in a few hours. Of course, that’s assuming you don’t mind having my coach on your property. It isn’t an eyesore, I swear to you.”

“I don’t mind. And your horses can be stabled here.”

Howard was fortunate to have found a potential patron who was not merely enthusiastic but also generous.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a young boy walking beside a woman dressed in the plain clothes of a servant but holding herself with more confidence than a mere chambermaid.

Lord Jonquil must’ve noticed where his gaze had shifted, because he explained, “Our guest, the young Duke of Kielder, and Miss MacGregor.”

Weren’t that a strange thing? The boy couldn’t have been more than seven or eight years old and already a duke. Duke or not, young boys were rambunctious and often caused trouble. Heaven help Howard, having a little one about might very well set him behind schedule or wreak havoc on his work.

He couldn’t afford for his work not to be his very best this time. His entire future depended on it.

He would keep an eye on this tiny duke. If there were so much as a spot of trouble, he’d have a talk with the woman looking after the boy.