The Gardens of Marlborough Estates were close to an acre in size. Broken and discarded paving stones were used to had been utilized over the years, making the Estate’s endless walking paths. with Small benches and cozy alcoves were added built in the later years as well—for reading, talking, perhaps an evening tryst during one of the many gala Balls? The Benches lined up along the footpaths and under the cover of a dozen willow trees. Built nearly a hundred and fifty years ago, and neglected for the last fifty, time has helped establish the natural wonders of the Gardens more readily than any landscaper, or gardener, employed by the Estate could have ever hoped to accomplish.
The Garden had It had originally been constructed because after a small ditch had been dug out of the soft landscape once upon a time, for use as a latrine by the original workers erecting the estate That was more than two hundred years ago. The A stream had been diverted from a larger tributary feeding into the Chumley, but and had not been properly refilled after the completion of the project. It may have been an argument about wages, we no one will never know. Over time, it created the area became a large swampy mire.
The Gardens had been built of necessity. as
The pond became now served as a wading pool for toddlers in the summer, and a skating pond in the winter.
The tiny rivulet channel carved into the smooth rolling landscape had eventually become formed a pond one hundred feet across and one foot deep. Over the years it the pond was properly cleaned, was had been re-enforced with brick and mortar, built up and re-shaped. as The ground was eventually pulled away from beneath it, so that now it formed a low laying escarpment pool a dozen feet high. The water gathered in the pool before above spilled over the edge, and cascading onto the rocks of a second pool below. Here, a second stream had been created, with a graded slope down of ten feet over the course of one hundred yards. to The water pooled around a small, child sized village with made up of a dozen of toys buildings—doll houses, and shops, that opened up to reveal hand-made furnishings inside. The houses and buildings sat on top of masonry bricks slick with the moss and lichen of a hundred years. A working water-wheel spun endlessly at the bottom of the stream and the water showered droplets that captured the afternoon sun. as it tangled with the willows let slip a gentle rainbow of colours.
It had proven to be a delight as each successive generation added to the project.
There were days the pond would some days see festooned with a regalia of paper boats, with ceremonies and celebrations. And later—as both the children and the centuries grew—more experimental boats were built in an effort to meet the future demands as of the Industrial Revolution. took rise. The small paper sailboats floating down the stream had children laughing behind them, screaming in delight on the banks of the small, narrow stream, eagerly following the boats through the pool to the very edge, where ten a dozen feet below lay the imaginary city built to entertain the generations.
Chernetsov stepped out of the library, briefly looking up at the clear sky as he strolled across the garden. He looking looked at the colours of the distant trees where they dotting the distant landscape. He could see a lark, or something like it—a bird at least, he could see that—soaring silent and solitary, watching for prey.
Perhaps it’s a raptor of some sort, he thought?
He wondered if his eyes were that bad, and looked out across the endless acre of landscape.
My landscape, he reminded himself; all of it’s mine.
It was always nice at this time of the year to remind himself as to why he liked the Spring instead. He’d had a small American designed, locally made and glass encased gazebo, erected on a low rise over-looking what was now the Children’s Village. The side panels were made of etched glass, and had recently been replaced set in place in an effort to prepare for the up-coming party—the last party of the season, which always culminated with a drinking party and bragging rights as to who would possess Cromwell’s skull.
Oh God, the party.
He’d forgotten.
He’d told them Anatoly to hide the body. and Though a part of him wanted to know—even wondered where, he knew if the police start looking for this last night’s thief and stumbled across the body, it would be more than just a complication. It was the kind of complication he didn’t need right now.
He stood at the table, looking at his watch again. It was precisely one o’clock. Lunch was always served by 1:30 one o’clock, and it seemed he was always the first one to arrive; without fail, it seemed. Bubbi The Countess was the next to arrive, holding tight to Dasha’s arm and looking stunning in a white tea dress.
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