Chapter 8 - The Rose Garden in Bloom
By five o'clock that evening, the Weller estate was completely quiet for the first time in two weeks.
The moving vans had departed, the greedy relatives had scattered back to their own lives, and the heavy iron gates were locked against the world.
Hannah walked through the grand rooms, running her fingertips along the dark mahogany wainscoting.
The suffocating ghosts of her aunt's cruelty had vanished, replaced by the clean, quiet peace her grandfather had always loved.
She walked out through the French doors of the solarium into the expansive rear gardens overlooking the woods.
Down by the greenhouse, she saw Mr. Pell kneeling in the soil, wearing a warm new shearling coat Rocco had provided that morning.
The old groundskeeper was carefully wrapping the delicate rose bushes in burlap to protect them from the coming winter frost.
Hannah walked down the stone path, kneeling in the soft mulch beside him.
"You should be resting, Mr. Pell," Hannah said softly, smiling as she helped him tie a twine knot around the cane.
Mr. Pell turned his weathered, wrinkled face toward her, tears of pure gratitude glistening in his milky eyes.
"Miss Hannah," he rasped, his voice thick with emotion. "The lawyer came to my cottage this afternoon."
"He told me Captain Edmund established a lifetime annuity for me. Full healthcare, my cottage deed, and a living wage for the rest of my days."
"You gave forty years of your life to this family, Arthur," Hannah said, gently covering his dirt-smudged hands with hers.
"Grandfather never forgot the loyalty you showed him. You will never have to worry about a roof over your head again."
The old man bowed his head, weeping quietly into his sleeves, his shoulders shaking with the profound relief of a man saved from the abyss.
Hannah stood up, looking out over the sprawling lawn as the evening sun began to dip behind the western ridge.
Footsteps crunched softly along the gravel path behind her.
Rocco walked up the garden terrace, dressed in a soft black cashmere sweater and dark trousers, holding two porcelain mugs of hot coffee.
He handed one to Hannah, the steam rising between them in the cool autumn twilight.
"Two creams, no sugar," Rocco murmured, a faint, genuine smile touching his lips.
Hannah took the mug, wrapping both hands around the ceramic, looking up into the striking dark eyes of the man who had changed her life.
"You didn't have to stay, Rocco," she whispered. "The lawyers could have handled the eviction."
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"I don't leave things half-done, Hannah," Rocco replied, looking out over the quiet estate.
"Edmund asked me to protect you. And I intend to keep that promise for as long as you need me."
