After placing the basil in the basket, I close my eyes and breathe the aroma of the lovely hibiscus. I move forward a few paces and hum a tune to the happy lilies. Oh, how I adore the heavenly scents of the gardens. I could spend the entirety of my day dreaming within their beauty. 

Nothing pleases me more than to stroll through herbal knots or take rest in the wooden gazebo displaying rose blooms. But upon this day, I do not own such pleasure. For the next sound that comes to my ear is not the song of the sparrow nor the buzz of the bees. It is the earsplitting voice of master Dreyssel. I am convinced the mighty oak would tremble from such bellows. Why even the hurried winds prevail less harm.

Unfortunately, Sir Dreyssel was a gentleman who expressed anger at every turn. I believe a kind word never fell forth his lips. This harsh gratification ran true with his servants as well as relatives of blood. I believe one must keep watch over their tongue for it speaks truths of the mind. Obviously, our master cared naught as I. But to him, we are just commoners. And being born as such, left us only to serve. My father died after I was born and was a man of poor stature, owning no title, so it left not a shilling in our purse. We fell on bad times and Mama had naught choice but to accept an offer as a cook. And the offer came from none other than Sir Dreyssel.

"Mary Elizabeth," bellowed the master. "Why at my every turn does mine eye find you here in the gardens? Do we not enough herbs for the soup says I."

I turn and found my master only a foot afar. "Yea, we do indeed, Sir," responding lowly. 

I lift my basket of herbs and under my breath whisper, until the morrow sweet lilies. Eager to escape his frame, I make way towards the back entrance with my master watching my every step. As I enter the kitchen, I hand Mama the basket of herbs. In return the corners of her mouth display a happy acceptance, for the basket was full to the weaved handle. 

I now move to the side table and begin snapping green beans. This was our usual routine -- working within a quiet, speechless world. There were days I believe she was fortunate not to hear the harsh voice of our master. And since Mama is deaf, she fills this void with the beauty of the gardens. What fails her in sound, God blessed her in sight. And nature loves Mama as well. She even hand feeds the squirrels and the birds rest by her side when the master is out. It is truly a heartwarming sight.

The entire staff continued in a mad rush. Sir Dreyssel claimed this was to be a special eve, whereas an important guest will arrive. And this news brought much talk among the servants, for Dreyssel house has been months without a guest. We usually had days to gossip as to whom would arrive in the great hall or dining parlor, but this was not the case this day. So, I being of a curious nature, sought out the butler to find the name of our mysterious guest. If anyone knew the master’s secrets, it would be Polish.

I moved in haste for there was still much work to be done. Stepping out of the kitchen I made way down the long hall, through the dinning parlor, past the pantry, finally arriving in the beer and wine cellar. And it is here where I found Polish, just as the seamstress so told.

He smiled upon my entry and said, "Aye, ’tis Miss Mary I see. Is something amiss Mary? Does the master call for me?"

"Nay Polish.  Sir remains in his bedchamber. But I am indeed curious. Who is this mysterious guest? Oh do tell, for all this secrecy is unbearable!"