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of interest. It was the girl he had hoped to see and she was walking gracefully into the courtyard, a King Charles trotting beside her and carrying a bunch of pink roses in her arms.
    ‘ Be back in a minute,’ James said and strode off to greet her. Daniel slowly stood, his teeth grinding not only for being so quickly dismissed as if he was a servant but also that James had the confidence and friendliness of manner to approach the girl, unlike himself. He watched, with irritation, as James easily struck up a conversation which made the girl smile and eventually laugh. No doubt he was complimenting her on how the rose of her cheeks matched the colour of the roses she held. Or perhaps he had just compared their beauty with hers to only find them wanting. James Brockenshaw had the gift of the gab, Daniel thought angrily, and he felt annoyed that this girl seemed to lap it up. What girl would not be flattered to have the attentions of a wealthy, and some would say, handsome man, although Daniel did not think he was. Daniel felt uneasy. James reminded him of a fox stalking his prey, his smile, his manners, his charm belying the deadliness of his intentions. Voices coming nearer brought Daniel suddenly to his senses and he realised that James was bringing the girl over.
    ‘ This is Lady Jane Gray, Lady for short,’ said James, patting the horse on the neck. Daniel stood at the side realising that James thought the horse was more important and warranted an introduction, unlike him. The girl avoided looking at him. For the first time he wished he had changed his shirt before coming to Bosvenna Manor. In comparison she was fresh, clean and tidy, wearing a pale yellow dress with tiny small green flower buds that matched her eyes.
    ‘ I’ve been trying to find out what is the matter with her. She’s a gentle horse. Come pat her.’
    The girl looked a little alarmed as James took her hand and guided it under his to stroke the horse’s neck . Daniel could not bear to look and focused his attention on the dog until the girl slipped her hand away and hid it underneath her roses once more.
    Daniel returned to examining the horse and began to check the horse’s pelvis, perhaps a little more zealously than he would have otherwise, while James continued to focus his attention on the girl.
    ‘I warrant roses are your favourite flowers.’
    ‘ These flowers are for Lady Brockenshaw, sir. She asked me to pick them while I walked Charlie this afternoon.’
    ‘ Then tell me, what do you consider the most beautiful flower?  I would dearly love to know.’
    ‘ I do not have a specific flower as long as they are wild. A wild flower is more beautiful than anything cultured by man.’
    ‘ That cannot be,’ said James in all seriousness, ‘Man has cross bred plants to produce the clearest of colours and strongest of perfumes. Surely nothing can compare to what science can produce - the best of all worlds.’
    The girl shook her head, ‘I disagree, nothing is more beautiful than nature intended. Nature, in its own way, has cultivated the wild flower over hundreds of years and it has resulted in flowers that are more varied, more pure and vibrant than any flower grown in a hot house. They can grow in the most inhospitable of places with a wider range of fragrances than any gardener or scientist can produce. But perhaps what I like best about wild flowers are that they have been allowed to be themselves, grow in a way that nature intended, without constraint. They are the more beautiful for it.’ 
    Both men stood watching her, the horse now forgotten. Her use of language had intrigued them both. One had been made the more curious by it, the other felt a great chasm open up between them. Her speech was articulate, educated and was quite unlike any other domestic servant within the house. It had been the first time Daniel had heard her speak.
    ‘ You sound as if man stifles growth and beauty,’ said James softly.
    ‘ I did not say that,