Page 43 of An Enchanted Moment on Ever After Street
‘No.’
I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. After we’ve spent so much time together, I’m still surprised by the one-word answers in the face of a direct question, but I’m not giving up that easily. ‘What did you do before?’
‘I was an international spy. I’d tell you about it but I’d be breaking the Official Secrets Act.’
‘You’re hilarious.’ I give him a scathing look. ‘You could’ve just said “I don’t want to talk about it.”’
‘Marnie, you don’t understand the meaning of “I don’t want to talk about it.” No matter what I don’t want to talk about, you have a way of wheedling it out of me.’ His head shifts as he glances down at me and then sighs in resignation. ‘I worked in a library.’
‘Iknewyou were a booklover in disguise.’ I glance up at him and his disguise. ‘I mean, not literally. I don’t think you’re disguising being a booklover, you’re disguising…’ I decide not to give voice to any of my theories about his reasons for staying so covered. ‘In a library here?’
‘No. In London. I lived there. I only moved back here after—’ He cuts the sentence off abruptly and doesn’t start a new one.
After. That word again. Confirmation that something happened to him and there was a before and an after. ‘Where did the teaching creative writing come in?’
I keep my eyes focused on Mrs Potts walking in front of me, but I sense the movement as his gaze falls onto me again, like he was hoping I’d forgotten about that.
‘That came later,’ he says eventually. ‘When I was still living in London, I had… good fortune. I fulfilled a lifelong dream and I wanted to give something back. I wanted to inspire kids who had nothing and thought good things only happened to other people. It was… probably the only part of my life that I’m still proud of.’
‘I wouldloveto host a regular creative writing class at the bookshop. It’s something Mum and I talked about years ago but then the diagnosis came, and…’ I shake my head. ‘If you ever want—’
‘Never.’ The vehemence in his voice makes Mrs Potts look round and he murmurs something about her looking tired and picks her up for a carry, focusing so intently on settling her in his arms and murmuring to her that he doesn’t give me a chance to push it any further. ‘This way.’
We’ve slowly climbed up the hill of the forest, leaving the river that runs past our shops far behind. The castle is far above us and off to the right, but Darcy inclines his head, indicating that we should leave the makeshift path we’ve been meandering along. Unlike the Full Moon Forest on the other side of the street, there aren’t any proper paths in this part of the woods, only routes that have been worn down by dogwalkers, but I follow his lead, and off the track, we come to castle walls that blend into the trees where the ivy has covered the ground, trunks, and the old stone of the walls, and masses of brown and yellow autumn leaves are collecting in piles.
He shifts Mrs Potts into one arm and then takes my hand and lifts it until he can place it carefully on her side to hold her steady. The unexpected touch surprises me, his gloved fingers on mine, curling over ever so slightly, lingering long after my hand is in Mrs Potts’ soft grey fur. I look up and hold his eyes through his glasses, and I desperately wish I could see his face.
I could reach up right now and pull his scarf down and his glasses off. It would be like ripping a plaster away. It’s the only way toprovethat whatever he looks like makes no difference to his personality.
But it’s notjustabout that. I don’t want to see what Darcy looks like – I want him toshowme. I want him to trust me enough toknowthat he could look like the most hideous beast in the world, but he would still behim. I want him to realise that he deserves to be loved and accepted, no matter what.
And then I blink again, and as if he can read every thought that just flashed through my head, he drops his gaze and lets go of my hand and I push out a shallow breath.
His free hand goes into his coat pocket and he pulls out a set of keys and lets us in to a fortress-like gate built into the wall with a rusting ‘keep out’ sign on it, disguised by long tendrils of ivy.
When we’re inside, he puts Mrs Potts down, hands her lead back to me and locks up behind us, while I look around in awe.
I saw some of the castle grounds from the window when I came to the ball earlier this year, but nothing prepared me for the scale of it. There’s neatly cut dark green grass for as far as the eye can see, interspersed with pristine gravel paths and parterre gardens laid out in geometric patterns with water features, statues, or topiary shapes in the spaces between each ornate clipped hedge. There are leafy trees that look like they’ve been painted by an autumnal artist, with circular flower beds atthe base of each trunk, covered with mulch for now, but I can imagine them bursting with spring colour next year.
As we wander further through the immense grounds, there’s a glass gazebo strung with tendrils of a hanging green plant and solar-powered fairy lights that illuminate as dusk starts to fall.
‘Do you really do all of this?’
He nods. ‘One of the reasons I expect customers to pay for their own flowers – most days, I’d rather be here than at the shop. This is my full-time work. This is what I love.’
I love the passion in his voice, and the calmness that’s come over him since he closed that gate. When he’s outside, it’s like he’s constantly aware of running into someone, but this place obviously brings him peace. It’s special that he brought me here. Darcy doesn’t share much of himself; even now I’d call us friends, he’s still cagey and liable to snap if I ask the wrong questions, but this… This is a huge part of himself and he’s willingly shared it with me.
‘My father installed most of it when he was alive. He was the gardener here for decades. He was friends with the viscount who owned the castle, and he made a promise to keep the gardens as perfect as they always should be. Even years after the viscount disappeared, a fund had been set up to ensure he was always paid. He worked his fingers to the bone in creating these amazing gardens that no one would ever see because the castle was out of bounds, but it was important to him, a way of honouring his much-missed friend. And now it’s his legacy too. It’s nice to know the gardens are being seen again now Witt and Sadie are living here.’
‘No wonder they’re going to start hosting weddings. Especially in the spring when the trees will be covered in blossom, the flower beds bursting with colour, the weather warm enough to dance the night away in those open-air gazebos, the scent of roses in the air…’
The one thing I notice are the roses everywhere. They’re not ostentatious, but every hedgerow has climbing roses weaving throughout it. Every statue in the centre of the geometric low hedge designs has a potted rose at its base. One of the parterre designs is in the shape of a rose and the gaps between each hedge are filled with beds of roses. Some of the clipped topiary bushes are rose shaped.
It’s quite possibly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. ‘People would be so lucky to get married here. These gardens will be in family wedding photos one day soon. Your dad’s legacy will live on because of you.’
I don’t realise I’ve affected him until he swallows hard. ‘I’ve never thought of it like that before. It’s only ever been somewhere for me to hide away. I never realised anything good could come from it too.’
I look at him, again desperately wishing I could see his face, and even more desperately wishing he wouldn’t push me away if I tried to hug him.
