Chapter Four

Crawling through a deep, dark, tunnel that will most likely lead to one's death is never much fun, and Beatrice's crawl was, sadly, no exception to this case. It was muddy. It was slimy. And, most alarming of all, it had an unusual fragrance. As Beatrice crawled through the tunnel, she sniffed the air. It was a strange and powerful smell. It smelled like honey and rotted leaves, stirred together and served as a meal that one would not like to ever eat au gratin, a phrase which here means "at all".

Echoing throughout the tunnel was a strange melody, which Beatrice assumed was the humming of Lady Audrey. Beatrice tried her best to imagine what could be in this tunnel that would make someone hum so happily, but it was difficult to imagine. Then, at the end of the tunnel, there was a light, shining through an opening. Peering through the opening, Beatrice saw two feet, wrapped entirely in leaves. Beatrice, eager more to leave the tunnel than anything else, finally pulled herself through, and stepped into a large conservatory.

The room in which Beatrice found herself was but one massive room, much like a ballroom in size and shape. A ballroom, as you may know, is a room that does not contain balls. Rather, it contains a great deal of many people in very fine dress, all dancing, eating, and making conversation. A ballroom, when properly filled, is a beautiful scene, assuming that there is a not a woman in a dragonfly suit that is about to bring about her own demise in the hall. Then it is sad.

This ballroom, however, did not contain people or ladies in dragonfly suits.

It contained, instead, a great deal of flowers. The entire room was covered in flowers, growing from every direction. Massive flowerpots, pots that hold flowers, hung from the ceiling. Vines extended from their origin and stretched out across the length of the floor. Beatrice could see, to her left, a massive wall of leaves and thorns. What was behind it, though, she could not see. There were enormous blooms, as large as a small child the size of sack of flour that was oversized. There were very small blooms as well. The soft sound of rainfall could be heard as water ran down each plant, flowing into the soil floor. All of this was visible through large holes openings in the ceiling that allowed in shafts of light. One of these shafts of light, Beatrice observed, was wrapped like a spotlight around Lady Audrey.

Her guardian was standing in between two rows of flowers. Lady Audrey's hand was on the nozzle of a pipe that ran into the floor and ended next to two very dirty bowls. She seemed so distracted by the sight of water running down the plants that she didn't notice Beatrice enter. As Beatrice approached, she could see Lady Audrey speaking to herself so quietly Beatrice couldn't understand her words.

Eager to understand the nature of this unusual place, Beatrice cleared her throat. Lady Audrey immediately held up a hand to halt Beatrice. She continued, to speak to herself. As Beatrice was closer now, though, she could tell that Lady Audrey was counting.

"Twenty-four… twenty-five… twenty-six."
With a twist of her wrist, Lady Audrey turned of the water. The gentle rush of water ceased, and only a rustling sound behind the massive wall of leaves and vines could be heard. Lady Audrey smiled at Beatrice and spoke quietly.
"It is very important that I give the flowers the right amount of water, dear child. Please don't ever interrupt me while I am watering them."
Beatrice nodded politely, but had a question.
"Pardon me for saying so, ma'am, but are these not just plants?"
Lady Audrey's face became pale. Her face became very stern as she leaned over and whispered into Beatrice's ear.
"Never insult what you don't understand, dear child."
If anyone has ever whispered a command into your ear, you can understand how unsettling this can be. Beatrice herself felt very unsettled. She looked at Lady Audrey, trying to determine if what was said was meant as a threat or helpful advice. Before she could decide, though, Lady Audrey changed the subject.
"You must never insult my flowers, dear child, because you may hurt their feelings." She had turned again to the flowers, and was examining them closely. Beatrice looked at the flowers, unsure of how to emotionally harm a plant.
"My plants, dear child, are napping right now, which is why I haven't introduced you. They will awaken very shortly."
It was then that the flowers awoke. There was a loud rumbling and rustling as the world around Beatrice moved. Slowly vines began to lift themselves. There were many flower buds that had been closed until now opened up, revealing large and beautiful petals of practically every color of the rainbow. The contents of the entire room were alive with movement.
Beatrice took a step back, frightened. Lady Audrey put her hand on Beatrice's shoulder.
"And what do you think of them?"
When the entire room in which you are residing has suddenly revealed itself to be full of large and somewhat terrifying flowers, it can be difficult to find the correct thing to say. Beatrice had, however, been taught at an early age that one should always be polite. So, she tried her best to thing of something to say.
"They certainly are colorful."
Several brightly colored flowers turned their buds directly at Beatrice, as if observing her. They quickly stretched out from their base and wrapped around Beatrice's neck loosely and in what resembled a necklace.
"Lady Audrey?" she asked timidly, a word which her means "frightened that the flowers around her would cause her serious harm."
Lady Audrey leaned over and looked admiringly at the flowers.
"How sweet," she cooed. "They like you."
"That is good to know," Beatrice said, as flowers now began to wrap around her arms. "What would happen if they didn't like me, ma'am?"
Gently, Lady Audrey pulled several of the flowers off of Beatrice's neck as she responded calmly.
"If they didn't like you, you wouldn't be alive to ask that question, dear child."
This startled Beatrice quite a bit.
"Am I to believe that these flowers would kill me, Miss Audrey?"
"Look at what they did to my last assistant, Carlo."
Taking Beatrice's chin between her forefingers, Lady Audrey turned her head to show a mass of vines, leaves, and flowers, writhing frantically. In the middle of the pile of foliage there was, drooping, a long, pale arm.
Beatrice's eyes widened, but she didn't dare scream or shout, as she did not want to surprise the flowers still attached to her. Lady Audrey walked over to the arm and pulled it from the leaves, holding it up so that Beatrice could see the fluff from a tear in the back of the arm.
"Yes, dear child, Carlo was so hurt that the flowers destroyed his favorite mannequin that he quit immediately, leaving through the very tunnel through which he first entered."

"What did the mannequin do to offend the flowers?" asked Beatrice.

Lady Audrey examined the arm for a moment, before throwing it back to the flowers, which wrapped around it almost instantly.

"Carlo, you see, was a very rude person. He didn't believe that the flowers were actually dangerous, despite my warnings. So, one day, he took one of his many mannequins and started to make rude gestures with it. My precious flowerbed didn't like this very much, so…"

She trailed off, leaving Beatrice to imagine the rest of the story, which she did.

"Miss Audrey?" Beatrice asked.

"Yes, dear?" Lady Audrey said.

"Is there anything else I should know about the proper way to behave around flowers?"

Audrey smiled at Beatrice in a patronizing way, a phrase which hear means "as if she pitied Beatrice for not knowing as much as herself".

"Be careful." She responded. "Be careful and remember to water them."

"Water them?" asked Beatrice.

Beatrice motioned towards the nozzle she had used before.

"Yes, they must be watered daily, and for exactly twenty six seconds. If they are not watered every day, they would shrivel and die very soon."

At the mention of this, several of the flowers around Lady Audrey's body began to curl and twist, as if the idea of shriveling itself were painful and offensive to them. Beatrice stepped towards the center of the room, onto the soil in which there were no flowers. Beatrice tried her best to stay calm and ask one more question.

"Why, specifically, is the amount of water equated to twenty six seconds?" Beatrice asked, using a word which here means "measured to be twenty six seconds, even though that is a very unusual number to pick".

She had turned her head away to look at the plants around her, but looked back at Lady Audrey, who was petting a large purple hollyhock, which is a type of flower often used for decoration. She was smiling at the flower, as if they were having a pleasant conversation.

"They need twenty six seconds, dear child, because they will feel absolutely starved with twenty five and terribly overfed at twenty seven. Come now, it's time for dinner."

Lady Audrey's response had confused Beatrice, but at the mention of dinner she immediately ceased her questioning. She had forgotten that her lunch at the café that day had been very early, and she hadn't consumed much aside from a root beer float in quite a while.

"And where shall dinner be served, ma'am?"

Her guardian looked around the room curiously, considering each part of the flowerbed in turn. At least, she decided on a specific location. Happily she pointed to it.

"Right there, my dear."

Beatrice looked to where she pointed, but could only see the leaves and flowers emerging from the soil. In Beatrice's past, she had eaten dinners in a great many places, including mountains and tree houses, but she had assumed that, with her finding an official guardian, she would have been able to use a table or chairs. Beatrice tried to sound as polite as she could.

"Ma'am, am I to understand that we are eating on the floor?"

"We are not eating 'on' the floor, dear. Oh, goodness, no!" exclaimed Lady Audrey incredulously, a word which here means "as if that were a silly question".

She walked over to the flowers at which she had pointed and began to pet one of them on the head. She then spoke to it in a whisper so quiet Beatrice could not hear. Two of the flowers nodded, and then they pulled back as if they were beginning a noble deed.

Three very large leaves emerged from the within the flowerbed and lowered themselves the level of Beatrice's waist. Beatrice started, a word which is here used to mean "was shocked that the flowers had presented her a giant leaf for reasons unknown." Lady Audrey, however, did not start, but motioned to the leaf.

"Dear child," she explained. "Do not insult my foliage. Please sit on the seat with which they have provided you."

A request, like a coded message or an extremely warm bowl of clam chowder, can be a very scary thing to accept without first considering the consequences. Beatrice knew that if the seat were stable, which was an unusual idea, she could sit calmly and have a dinner with Lady Audrey that would, no doubt, help her to feel better. If the seat were unstable, however, she would only fall and be hurt, upsetting the flowers and embarrassing herself terribly. Unsure of what to do, Beatrice bit her lip, displaying a habit she had developed over the years.

Lady Audrey looked at her and saw her anxiety. She responded in a tone that was much more patronizing than Beatrice would have liked.

"Darling, I assure you that these seats are perfectly safe. Now, come. Sit so that we may have dinner."

Not feeling like she had much choice, Beatrice sat on the leaf. Much to her surprise, it supported her effortlessly, and Beatrice felt much as if it were a regular seat, if not more green. For the first time since she had been in the hotel, Beatrice smiled. To this, Lady Audrey smiled as well.

"Neither the flowers nor I have any intention of harming you, dear child. We all know how terrible you must feel right now, having lost your guardians. Now, you just stay right there, and I will fetch our dinner."

When one hears that dinner will be fetched, it is quite acceptable for one to assume that dinner will be served from an oven, a kiln, a plat, or a stove. What one does not typically assume is where Lady Audrey fetched their dinner.

Lady Audrey walked serenely, a word that here means "peacefully", towards the nozzle that she had used previously. She picked up the two bowls next to the nozzle, and gently moved them into the floor, gathering soil into them. She then held both bowls up to her eyes, calculating how much she had just put in. Beatrice, alarmed, watched this strange spectacle. From behind the bowls, Lady Audrey's eyes dated to Beatrice.

"Dear, are you very hungry?"

Beatrice sunk back into her leaf and shook her head. To this, Lady Audrey shrugged and poured some of the dirt from one bowl back onto the floor. She then walked over to the three leaves and placed the two bowls on the leaf in between Beatrice and herself, along with two spoons she had produced from her dress.

Her guest, young Beatrice, looked at the bowls hesitantly.

"Ma'am, are we really to eat this?"

"Oh, but of course! Soil is nature's gift to all the world! It has fed our plants for many years, and it has nutrients within it that one cannot find anywhere else. In addition to this, I have added many nutrients to the soil myself to make it even more edible and delicious. Now, please," laughed Lady Audrey, "dig in."

I feel at this time that, as a documenter of these events, it is my responsibility to warn you, the reader of the documents of the documenter of these events, to never eat dirt. Dirt can be very unhealthy ,as it is filled with bugs, insects, and litter from careless people of less noble minds, causing one to become very ill upon eating it. If it weren't for the nutrients Lady Audrey added prior to eating this particular dirt, in fact, it would be just as unhealthy as any other dirt available. As it is very unlikely that you have Lady Audrey's recipe for dirt, I must again advise you to never attempt to eat dirt if you value your health, your teeth, or the look of respect others may give you.

Despite the knowledge of the nutrients and edibility of the dirt that Beatrice had set before her, the orphan was still very uncomfortable at the idea of her dinner. Worried, she decided to speak up once more.

"But, ma'am…"

Lady Audrey suddenly turned as red as the roses next to her. She shouted very loudly at Beatrice.

"Child, I have served you dinner, and it is very rude to ungrateful for a dinner. Now eat."

The flowers around Lady Audrey suddenly thrashed and twisted. Beatrice could feel her seat shake and the see the bowls rattle. Lady Audrey held up her hand to the flowers to call their attention. When they finally calmed, Lady Audrey stared Beatrice in the eyes.

"Please eat now. Neither of us wants to upset the plants further."

This was the first time that Beatrice had seen Lady Audrey show any emotion besides calmness and amusement. It scared Beatrice terribly. Not knowing what else to do, she took her spoon and began to eat her dirt in silence.

There are many things in the world which people find frightening. Many people are afraid of the dark, for example. Others are afraid of ghosts. Many people are afraid that there is a suspicious person hiding in their closet. Still others are afraid of zombies are lurking in their backyard, but that is silly, as it is clearly not true. The most frightening thing to several people, including myself, is the fear of the unknown. For it can be far more frightening to not know of what is you are afraid, than to know what is of which you are.

Beatrice feared the flowers, which she knew would hurt her if she scared them. She was scared of the dirt, which was as terrible tasting as she expected. Above all these things, Beatrice found herself frightened of Lady Audrey, who had just done something unpredictable and scary, leading Beatrice to wonder how many other unpredictable and scary things Lady Audrey would do, and whether she was safe in this house at all.