The Secret Garden Chapter 4: The garden by D.L. Copyright  © 2011 D.L. All Rights Reserved. Inspired by the classic children’s tale by Frances Hodgson Burnett.

The tinkling of the bell on the carriage clock woke Richard at half past seven the next morning. Flicking the lever to stop the sound, the boy climbed out of bed, walked across to his trunk and pulled out a gown to wear over his nightshirt.

For once, he felt fully rested and refreshed - the nightmares that had been interrupting his sleep having kept away. Pulling back the curtains, he surveyed the countryside around the house. Being high up he was able to look out over the hedges and formal gardens beneath his window.

Moving through to the sitting room, he stoked the fire and added some wood. The room was cool, but pleasant in temperature. However, remembering that the fire also heated the water in the bathroom, he added some logs from the alcove behind the curtain to get the heat building.

Curling up in one of the fireside chairs, he sat down and read the book he had bought while in London. ‘David Copperfield’ by Charles Dickens was partially set not far from the Ashby estate.

It was half an hour later when he heard footsteps approaching outside in the corridor. Opening the door to his room, he smiled as Martha approached delivering breakfast. Standing out of her way, he beckoned the servant into the room. Carrying the tray inside, she set it down on the desk.

Lifting off the cover, Martha revealed the spread of food beneath. A plate of toast, bacon, eggs and sausage enticed the hungry child. A pot of tea and a teacup also sat on the tray.

Smiling, Richard pulled out the wooden chair, and sat down to eat his breakfast while Martha went to clean the fire.

“You’ve already set the fire going I see,” Martha commented. Turning to face her, the boy gestured towards the bathroom door.

“You’re heating some water?” Martha asked, seeing where the boy was pointing. He nodded and turned back to eating his meal.

Martha then disappeared into the bedroom to make the bed before coming back out as Richard put his utensils down. Taking his tea, he crossed and sat in front of the fire to drink the beverage.

“Will you be washing, or would you like a bath?” the woman asked.

As the young man held two fingers up in reply, Martha clarified, “A bath?” to which the boy nodded.

Martha went through to the next room and started the water flowing. After checking that it was up to temperature, she turned the tap to full and let the bath fill. Richard, having finished his drink, came into the room and hung his gown on the back of the door.

The servant waited by the bath as it filled. When the water started to run cold, she checked the temperature of the bath, and deciding that the level was deep enough, shut off the tap. She stood with a flannel in hand waiting for the boy.

The child slowly looked at the servant. While Richard had help to wash back in India, he was less willing to have assistance now. Only a select few individuals had opportunity to see the extent of his injuries, and he didn’t see any need to expand that number now. The boy pointed at Martha and then at the door, indicating that he wanted to be left alone.

“Very well, if you insist,” Martha stated. “Ring the bell, the pull cord near the door to the corridor, when you’re finished.”

The servant left the room. The boy locked the door behind her before using the toilet, removing his nightshirt as he did so. Richard climbed into the soapy hot water to relax and clean himself.

After a good soak, the child climbed out of the tub, emptying it, and wrapped himself in the large fluffy towel that Martha had left for him. After patting himself dry, he walked through to the bedroom, where he retrieved a fresh set of clothes from his trunk, and proceeded to get dressed.

Richard wore another silk shirt, and pulled on cotton trousers and a jacket in a bright red. He was fond of vivid colours, and even if they might look odd to European eyes, he liked them.

Returning to the sitting room, he pulled the cord to ring the bell and sat back down with his book.

A few minutes later, Martha came back into the room. Seeing the boy fully dressed, she checked the towels, noting that they had been neatly hung to dry. Taking the wet towels to wash, Martha then requested any clothes that needed laundering. The two of them went into the bedroom and sorted through the boy’s trunk. They hung clean clothes in the cupboards, and put soiled garments in a pile to take downstairs.

The boy wrote instructions on how the delicate fabrics from India should be handled. He made it clear that his instructions should be followed or the clothes would be damaged. Martha then left the boy in his room to read, returning with a meal at lunchtime.

“Do you plan on spending the day inside, it’s lovely outside? Do you want to explore the gardens?” Martha asked when she collected the dishes from the room after the boy had eaten his meal.

Richard nodded. Martha then explained the extent of the grounds. A lot of the surrounding farmland was part of the estate. In addition, there were formal gardens and woodland surrounding the house.

“There are only two places where it is inadvisable or impossible to go,” Martha stated. “The first is the lower field on the north side of the grounds. This is set up as a firing range and is used year round for both live targets and clay pigeon shooting. I suspect you will be given an opportunity to take part at some point, but it’s best to stay away from that area in case you are shot.”

The boy nodded vigorously at this suggestion. He did not fancy being shot at.

“The second place is the far walled garden on the east side. The old Lord Headley, your grandfather, gave each of his sons a garden. He was a firm believer in nature as being spiritual, and insisted that his children look after their plot of land themselves without assistance of gardeners,” Martha explained, “His Lordship still looks after his own roses in the northernmost garden, although he now has a gardener cut the grass for him. He also did the same thing with his own children, although they have now handed their gardens back to the gardeners since they left for university.”

Richard knew that he had several older cousins, and had wondered if they would be living here when he arrived.

“The southernmost walled garden is the one given to your father. When he left for India, he locked the door, and instructed that it should be left alone to grow wild for birds and butterflies. He took the key with him, and nobody has bothered to go in there since,” the servant said, “I suppose it’s really your garden now, but I don’t recommend trying to get in. It must be completely overgrown after all this time. If you’re into gardening, I’m sure his Lordship would allow you to claim one of the other gardens for your use.”

This intrigued the child. The thought of his own private garden that nobody else would ever enter appealed to him.

Richard packed his satchel with his art material. Checking that his pocket watch was wound and set correctly, he descended the stairs and out the front door. He immediately started to walk round the grounds, paying particular attention to the walled gardens. He decided that his first task would be to map the entire estate.

This was an exercise his late tutor had made him do in India in order to teach him angles and trigonometry. He had to map accurately the whole plantation. Using the same principles, he started methodically to work his way through the grounds, noting landmarks and measuring angles of various fixed points, including the flagpole on the manor roof, a church spire in the nearby village, and a large oak tree that seemed to be visible from everywhere.

He found the location of the sealed garden, and couldn’t see any obvious doorway into it. However, several sections of wall were covered in bushes and ivy and he didn’t have time to investigate the entrance. That task could wait until another day.

The child had worked up a good appetite by the time he returned for the evening meal.