alcala0001
10-21-2010, 02:41 AM
I walk out of Inspector Dobbins's office, careful to keep up my 'small-minded gardener' facade. He was convinced, and that's what really matters. There's a row of men manacled to a bench, awaiting their fates as I exit the police station and start my long walk back to The Estate. I'm careful not to step in anything foul as I skirt the gutters. I stay clear of the alleys as I walk - no telling what sort of hooligans and scoundrels might be lurking about in the shadows. Still, I also keep an eye and ear alert for buggies. Last thing I need is to be killed by a careless coachman after my ordeal. I have a long walk and plenty of time to ponder my situation.
I think about my love for Lady Giselda Farnsworth and the lengths I have gone to protect her and the circumstances surrounding these past few days. Oh, my dearest Giselda, what I wouldn't give to re-write my fate and undo that first kiss we shared. If only - but, alas, such are the musings of a fool. And despite appearing the simple gardener, I am no fool. I am the seventh generation to serve at The Estate and I have been entrusted with the duties of safekeeping her honourable inhabitants, and all such things as that entails. Things such as murder, if need be.
My father taught me to be the best gardener I could be, teaching me the ways of flower, tree, shrub and bush by day, and feeding my mind with books borrowed from the study at night. I was an apt pupil and upon my sixteenth birthday, he initiated me into my secretive birthright. The Estate was run by the Lord and Lady of the house, respectively, but it was we gardeners who decided, as with the gardens, when to nurture and cultivate, or prune and uproot. Lady Anne Farnsworth had grown ill during my new training, and we tried as best we could to aid her recovery, but, alas we could not save her. During her decline Lord Farnsworth took to heavy drink and bouts of rage. I was charged with delivering her from her suffering, upon the swift wings of a merciful death. Under Father's watchful eye I concocted a toxin of yew and nightshade, which was dabbed into her soup.
During his period of mourning I was taught how to keep Lord Farnsworth sedated and safe from his impending depression by lacing his drinks and meals, careful to make note of dosages and accumulated amounts, switching and modifying the recipes and needed. So many things were gleaned during this time. I showed great promise. Who would think that a single plant would have so many uses and properties? A single garden plant can have poisonous fruit, edible roots and medicinal leaves. I learned them all - over the generations we gardeners made sure the Lord and Lady imported the obscure, exotic flora needed for us to carry out our duties - unbeknown to them, of course. Lord Farnsworth was shielded from the brunt of Lady Anne's unfortunate death by my various elixers, tonics and concoctions. Had he not been, he would have most assuredly been worse off for it - perhaps dangerously so. After the first year, dosages were reduced and he was weaned off of my potions. He made a very good recovery, but his imbibing of alcohol increased, and so did his bouts of temper.
Shortly thereafter, Lord Farnsworth met Giselda. The lovely Giselda. I was taken with her the moment I saw her. My duties as gardener increased during their courtship, but I would admire her from my horticulture when I could. I made and secretly administered aphrodisiacs and euphoric stimulants for them to ensure a successful engagement. After they were married, his demeanor took a turn for the worse. Despite a few attempts at curbing his descent into rage and his voracious thirst for drink, he became more brutish and incorrigible. Lady Giselda was often the target of his rage, inflicted upon with bruises and cuts as the house staff turned a blind eye - knowing their place in the machinery of The Estate. Then one evening I discovered her in the tool shed. Her hair was disheveled and her eyes were wide with terror, she cowered as I entered to retrieve a stash of distilled plant essences. Upon seeing me, she ran to me and trembled in my arms, burying her head in my chest and crying. It was most unseemly for a lady, but thankfully nobody was around to witness her pathetic display. I did pity her, but I also found myself drawn to her. Thereafter, when Lord Farnsworth's fury was intolerable, she would meet me at the garden shed and find solace. She was amazed at my cultured manner and my ideas on philosophy, sciences and literature. We became friends during her fugitive excursions. Then we became lovers.
Over the course of the next year he became increasingly violent - so much so that I feared for Lady Giselda every waking moment, as she was the focus of his hatred. When she became pregnant, I knew he had to be stopped. I purchased a bottle of fine French brandy and laced it generously with concentrates of oleander, hemlock and jasmine berries, then had it delivered to him personally, signed by a fictitious gentleman sprung forth of my imagination. The bottle was consumed and death was instant, the poisons lovingly crafted to dissolve upon ingestion, leaving no trace. I went into his study in the late hours of night to ensure the tainted drink was disposed and replaced. His death was officially ruled a matter of depression and drink, and my cursory questioning had gone smoothly and convincingly. Now I must tend to the needs of Lady Giselda until such a time as I'm not needed. She will undoubtedly find herself a fine gentleman, though she may choose to remain a widow. My duties as gardener, however, dictate that I find a loving and trusting wife to rear my children so they may be indoctrinated into the family business. After all, a gardener's work is never done!
I think about my love for Lady Giselda Farnsworth and the lengths I have gone to protect her and the circumstances surrounding these past few days. Oh, my dearest Giselda, what I wouldn't give to re-write my fate and undo that first kiss we shared. If only - but, alas, such are the musings of a fool. And despite appearing the simple gardener, I am no fool. I am the seventh generation to serve at The Estate and I have been entrusted with the duties of safekeeping her honourable inhabitants, and all such things as that entails. Things such as murder, if need be.
My father taught me to be the best gardener I could be, teaching me the ways of flower, tree, shrub and bush by day, and feeding my mind with books borrowed from the study at night. I was an apt pupil and upon my sixteenth birthday, he initiated me into my secretive birthright. The Estate was run by the Lord and Lady of the house, respectively, but it was we gardeners who decided, as with the gardens, when to nurture and cultivate, or prune and uproot. Lady Anne Farnsworth had grown ill during my new training, and we tried as best we could to aid her recovery, but, alas we could not save her. During her decline Lord Farnsworth took to heavy drink and bouts of rage. I was charged with delivering her from her suffering, upon the swift wings of a merciful death. Under Father's watchful eye I concocted a toxin of yew and nightshade, which was dabbed into her soup.
During his period of mourning I was taught how to keep Lord Farnsworth sedated and safe from his impending depression by lacing his drinks and meals, careful to make note of dosages and accumulated amounts, switching and modifying the recipes and needed. So many things were gleaned during this time. I showed great promise. Who would think that a single plant would have so many uses and properties? A single garden plant can have poisonous fruit, edible roots and medicinal leaves. I learned them all - over the generations we gardeners made sure the Lord and Lady imported the obscure, exotic flora needed for us to carry out our duties - unbeknown to them, of course. Lord Farnsworth was shielded from the brunt of Lady Anne's unfortunate death by my various elixers, tonics and concoctions. Had he not been, he would have most assuredly been worse off for it - perhaps dangerously so. After the first year, dosages were reduced and he was weaned off of my potions. He made a very good recovery, but his imbibing of alcohol increased, and so did his bouts of temper.
Shortly thereafter, Lord Farnsworth met Giselda. The lovely Giselda. I was taken with her the moment I saw her. My duties as gardener increased during their courtship, but I would admire her from my horticulture when I could. I made and secretly administered aphrodisiacs and euphoric stimulants for them to ensure a successful engagement. After they were married, his demeanor took a turn for the worse. Despite a few attempts at curbing his descent into rage and his voracious thirst for drink, he became more brutish and incorrigible. Lady Giselda was often the target of his rage, inflicted upon with bruises and cuts as the house staff turned a blind eye - knowing their place in the machinery of The Estate. Then one evening I discovered her in the tool shed. Her hair was disheveled and her eyes were wide with terror, she cowered as I entered to retrieve a stash of distilled plant essences. Upon seeing me, she ran to me and trembled in my arms, burying her head in my chest and crying. It was most unseemly for a lady, but thankfully nobody was around to witness her pathetic display. I did pity her, but I also found myself drawn to her. Thereafter, when Lord Farnsworth's fury was intolerable, she would meet me at the garden shed and find solace. She was amazed at my cultured manner and my ideas on philosophy, sciences and literature. We became friends during her fugitive excursions. Then we became lovers.
Over the course of the next year he became increasingly violent - so much so that I feared for Lady Giselda every waking moment, as she was the focus of his hatred. When she became pregnant, I knew he had to be stopped. I purchased a bottle of fine French brandy and laced it generously with concentrates of oleander, hemlock and jasmine berries, then had it delivered to him personally, signed by a fictitious gentleman sprung forth of my imagination. The bottle was consumed and death was instant, the poisons lovingly crafted to dissolve upon ingestion, leaving no trace. I went into his study in the late hours of night to ensure the tainted drink was disposed and replaced. His death was officially ruled a matter of depression and drink, and my cursory questioning had gone smoothly and convincingly. Now I must tend to the needs of Lady Giselda until such a time as I'm not needed. She will undoubtedly find herself a fine gentleman, though she may choose to remain a widow. My duties as gardener, however, dictate that I find a loving and trusting wife to rear my children so they may be indoctrinated into the family business. After all, a gardener's work is never done!