“Nothing. I just realized that your Faerie court sounds a bit like my life with my uncle,” she said.
It took her a few more steps to realize he had stopped between two hedgerows a few feet back.
“What is it? Do I need to invite you past them?” Mouse asked. Thornwood did not respond, his eyes trained on the interlaced branches. She could see a few lopsided bird nests emerging from the thorns. A blue string marked one nest, a strip of the summer sky in the darkness. Still, there was nothing in the hedges to garner Thornwood’s attention, as far as Mouse could tell.
“Are you hunting a rabbit?” she whispered, lifting onto her toes as though looking for a furry shape in the brush.
Her question cut through his thoughts, and he smirked at her. She was beginning to learn that his smirk was more indulgent than condescending.
He sidestepped her question by walking through the gap between the hedgerows.
“Let’s find that gardener of yours and get out of this rain.”
“Remember, we are going to ease into asking Mr.Hobb our questions. I don’t want you scaring him off. Follow my lead.”
It waseasy to find Mr.Hobb’s form in the vast expanse of the gardens. He was working next to a gaping, muddy scar on the lawn where Mouse had torn up one of her uncle’s garish flower beds.
Mr.Hobb squinted at them, heavy rain dripping from his hat down onto his coat. He brightened as he saw Mouse approach, but his smile dropped when he saw Thornwood at her side. Mouse’s hands stung as she wrung them together. She could not put her finger on the source of her anxiety, as the likelihood that Mr.Hobb would guess Thornwood was a Faerie was as likely as him being a Faerie himself. Still, her entire body twitched with the urge to flee.
“I thought I would find you out here,” Mouse said. “Rain or shine, eh?”
“If a little rain will stop you, England is not the place to plant a garden. We can take advantage of the soft earth to make headway on the wall for the climbing roses.”
“Brilliant,” she said. “Mr.Hobb, this is…Mr.Thornwood. You might have heard that he is here to fix Thistlemarsh’s interior while we work on the gardens. I’m sorry there has been such a delay in introducing you.”
The Faerie held out his hand, and it was only because Mouse knew Mr.Hobb so well that she registered the slight jerk to his arm as he moved to take it.
“Thornwood, Mr.Hobb has been our gardener for as long as I can remember. He was even here in my mother’s day.”
Mr.Hobb smiled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “I might as well be part of the landscape at this point.”
“Can we help?” Mouse asked.
Casting a dubious glance at Thornwood and his elegant attire, he gestured to a shovel leaning against his trusty wheelbarrow. “If you like.”
Mr.Hobb tottered away to said wheelbarrow. Mouse scooped up the shovel before holding it out to Thornwood. He stared at the worn wooden handle, bewildered.
“Haven’t you ever worked with your hands?” Mouse said under her breath. Although Mr.Hobb seemed engrossed in clearing the straggling vines, Mouse knew he was watching them from the corner of his eye. “If we want information from him, we have to help him work. It’s only fair.”
“Fair? He is a servant; you don’t pay him to do half the job.”
Mouse scoffed. She snatched the shovel herself before joining Mr.Hobb.
Soon, Thornwood followed them.
“All right, what can I do to help?” he asked. His arms were crossed high over his chest, although Mouse was sure that his magic could keep him warm if he wanted it to.
Mr.Hobb narrowed his eyes. Without a word, the old man pulled a trowel from the tool belt at his waist. He pointedly handed it to Mouse rather than passing it to Thornwood. She winced at the cut, but Thornwood did not seem to notice or care. He was too absorbed by the steel gardening instrument she pressed into his hand. He did not hiss at the metal’s touch, as Mouse half expected him to, considering the trowel was partially composed of iron. Perhaps it was only pure iron that hurt Faeries, at least in small quantities. Mouse wanted to ask, but Mr.Hobb’s presence stopped her.
“What is this for?” the Faerie asked, oblivious to Mouse’s curiosity.
“Digging,” Mouse said. “We’re building a wall for roses to grow over, so we need a solid foundation to lay the bricks on. Go through what I dig and make sure there aren’t any weeds working their way into the hole.”
“On my hands and knees?”
Mr.Hobb snorted. Thornwood shot him a fiery look.
“Fine,” he hissed.