Chapter Three: Lady Lobelia's Garden

Lady Lobelia Grahame hummed softly to herself as she walked through the sun-dappled woods, occasionally stopping to dig up a flowering plant and place it carefully in her basket to replant in her garden at home. She was not a lady in the true sense of the English noble order, but her friends had all taken to calling her by the title to reflect her gentle grace and stately bearing.

The basket was nearly full and she was just thinking of turning back when she saw a sight so odd her humming stopped off short. Half buried in a pile of dirt and rubble was what appeared to be the statue of a small man, a fairy or a gnome.

"How did that get here, I wonder!" she exclaimed softly to herself. She was sure it had not been there the last time she passed through these woods, but even if her memory was faulty and she had not seen this exact spot before, that did not explain the statue's presence.

The thought of German bombers during the war entered her mind for a moment, but there was no sign that there had ever been a house here; none of the destruction a bomb would cause even if it fell in the forest. And, in any case, surely she would have heard the explosion if a bomb had fallen so near her house! This area had been blessedly spared during the war; there must be some other answer.

Brushing some of the dirt off the statue's face with the corner of her apron, she marvelled at the fine detail the sculptor had put into the carving. This could be a valuable work of art, and yet apparently it was here for the taking.

Endeavouring to dig it out in an attempt to see how easy it might be to move, she soon discovered it was not alone. In all she found three of the gnomes, as well as a rabbit so finely detailed she could see every strand of fur on its body.

"You would look fine standing in my garden," she murmured. But getting them back alone would be beyond her; even one would be far too heavy to carry. No, she would have to return with her gardener and a wheelbarrow.

With that decided in her mind, she stood and dusted her apron off before slipping her trowel into her pocket and picking up her basket of transplants. Still too occupied with the mystery to resume her humming, she made her way back to her cottage.

oOo

The old gardener George Hendrickson grumbled the whole way as he pushed the wooden wheelbarrow through the woods to the place where Lady Lobelia had found the statues; as usual, she paid him no mind. He would do her bidding in the end; that was the important thing, and she didn't in the least care what his own opinion on the matter might be.

As his complaining had been a constant murmur it could not possibly increase, but it grew louder and more forceful when he saw that the statues were each so large that he could not fit more than one in the wheelbarrow at a time, and would have to make four trips.

"Enough," Lady Lobelia said with quiet firmness. "I pay you to do as I tell you, Hendrickson, not to complain about it."

"Yes, missus." The complaints subsided once more to the endless stream of muttering that flowed over her ears as if it had been nothing more than the ceaseless chatter of a brook.

She did not trust him alone either for the loading or the unloading, fearful that with his view of it as a senseless project he would damage the statues by not treating them with enough care. If he resented her accompanying him back and forth on each of his trips, he knew enough not to say so loudly enough for her to make out the words.

The gardener's grumbling did not cease once all four statues had been transported to the garden, though now perhaps he had more cause. Lady Lobelia was determined to place the statues that day, but couldn't make up her mind where she wanted them, forcing Hendrickson to move each one several times before she was finally satisfied. Then at last he was allowed to go on about what normal tasks there was still time for, while she set about planting the seedlings she had dug up.

Next chapter coming next week!

I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know! (Note that this story is formatted using British spellings.)

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