The Estate

Nellie fidgeted with the buckle of her satchel as the train swayed beneath her. It contained all of her worldly belongings; a second faded dress, a book of rare flowers, and a packet of stale biscuits Mary had slipped her as she was leaving. She had felt a bit of guilt when she took the worn book from its place on the shelf in what the orphanage deemed was a library. Nellie had lived in that building her whole life, but she knew that a single warped shelf with seven books was no library. Six books, now there were six left. She shook her head and peered out the window at the smoggy city racing by. No one ever looked at those books anyway and no one else cared for the garden, technically the book belonged to her, if an orphan can have belongings.

A man in a wrinkled blue suit and matching cap slammed open the door connecting her car to the next and started calling for tickets. Nellie slid her ticket from the much-mended pocket of her brown dress and smiled up at the man. He gave a grunt, punched the slip, and handed it back to her without meeting her eyes. Nellie slumped back into her seat. Her imaginings of the world beyond the orphanage and their annual field trips were clearly overly generous. At 17 Nellie knew adoption was no longer an option for her, but she still entertained the idea of a wealthy aunt finding her and lavishing her with rich clothes and decadent jewelry. She and Mary would strut around the yard between chores pretending to shop at the finest stores in London. “Oh, and what meals we would have!” Mary was always dreaming of food. “Think of the roast duck, cobbler, real biscuits with sugar sprinkled over top!” Of course, Mary would leave with Nellie and her wealthy aunt. They were practically sisters.

Nellie glanced at the empty seat beside her. Mary hadn’t come with her after all. Nothing had gone the way it was supposed to. A severe-looking woman with a bun so tight it made her peaked face seem even sharper came to the orphanage seeking maids for her master’s estate. She had deemed Nellie the only competent girl in the building after learning of her gardening skills. The headmistress had nodded along, praising the activity she most regularly admonished Nellie for. What once was an unladylike pastime was now a glowing asset. The woman had held Nellie’s fingers in her claw-like hands with swollen knuckles and nodded approvingly at the dirt under her nails and scratchy callouses lining the pads of each digit. The headmistress had found the interaction as odd as Nellie did, but lectured her soundly about accepting the good fortune of a paycheck and three meals each day. Nellie knew enough about the real world to know that food was hard to come by and jobs even harder, but she would have gladly forfeited the opportunity if it meant staying with Mary. But, like everything in her life, there were no options, only instructions.

Nellie slid the crumpled napkin out of her bag and carefully unwrapped the crushed biscuits. Mary had sobbed uncontrollably when handing Nellie the precious parcel. Nellie understood how much it pained Mary to sacrifice the thin chocolate-flavored wafers. She had made Nellie promise to visit as soon as she could. They both knew that wouldn’t be possible. Servants didn’t take vacations to visit old friends. The girls had clung to each other until the last moment when Nellie was shuffled off with the iron gates of her childhood clanging shut behind her.

The train was starting to become crowded and Nellie shifted her bag for a young woman and her screaming baby. They had the same smudged look of every Londoner these days. Too thin and desperately sad. The woman was crying silently as she tried to soothe her hungry child. Nellie offered her a biscuit and received a watery smile in exchange. They said no words to each other and Nellie soon turned back to the window.

The soot-stained buildings seemed to go on forever. Despite the speed of the train, Nellie could make out improvised homes made from scraps of wood and metal crowded with too many people. A cart of food pointlessly trundled up and down the train aisle tempting a crowd of passengers too poor to make a purchase. Nellie bowed her head shamefully. She was moving into the home of a man promising her food and a wage. She should stop pouting and thank her luck. The train halted jerkily and a mass of people shifted off. The young woman and her child left and Nellie watched them slowly disappear into a crowd, wondering what their future would hold.

The train continued on slowly, but it wasn’t long until the grimy city suddenly gave way to a world of green. Nellie sat up straighter and pressed her nose to the window. Unending hills of grass stretched out in front of her. Bursts of color signaled wildflowers and the sun seemed brighter without the fog of the city tinting its rays. Fewer people were on the train now and none seemed particularly interested in the wanders passing them by. Nellie gasped, realizing she had been holding her breath. Now, this is more like it!

Nellie stared out the window for another half hour before her lids became heavy and the gentle sway of the train lulled her to sleep. Her dreams were filled with images of her garden back at the orphanage. It was a tiny patch of dry dirt and reluctant vegetables, but now in her dreams, it bloomed with the vibrant colors the train was passing. The tiny, hard tomatoes were now bursting with juice and the choking weeds were instead unfurling into purple and yellow flowers. Vines were trailing around her fingers and a swollen gourd seemed to be whispering to her, “Get up. Get up!” Nellie jerked awake to the man in wrinkled blue poking her shoulder. “Yer stop is next girly. Get up!”

The train station where Nellie departed was not a station. She had to hop several feet down landing in long swaying grass. She shielded her eyes and clutched her satchel close. There were no buildings or houses, no benches or waiting areas. Panic clawed up her throat and she turned back just as the man pulled the door closed. “Wait!” The train coughed a cloud of black smoke that looked blasphemous against the clear blue sky and began churning away from her. The only sign of human life the rusty tracks it followed into the distance.

Nellie spun around in total confusion and complete alarm, fear creeping up her spine with tingling footsteps. A sweet-smelling breeze swept through her hair but despite the beauty of her surroundings, Nellie was truly frightened. She had never lived anywhere but the orphanage and had always been with a chaperone. The train ride was her first experience of independence, but this was her first time truly alone. Moments before hysteria completely overwhelmed her, a sharp cough caught her attention. She whirled again and saw the sharp-faced woman waiting on the top of a gentle rise. She looked so completely out of place with her rod-like posture and perfect bun. Nellie burst into tearful laughter. The woman indulged her for only a moment before turning to walk away. Nellie assumed she should follow and trotted up the hill.

As she topped the rise her breath caught in her chest, heart fluttering. A completely different world was spread out below her. Great trees fanned out like a sea of green and at the center, a grand white home sat like a sturdy liferaft. Even from a distance, Nellie could see the rainbow of colors surrounding the house and what were clearly fruit trees clustered together in the back. Her eyes stung with tears and her cheeks ached from the giant smile stretched across her face.

Dinners at the estate were a grand affair. All of the servants sat at one long table, some like Nellie still covered in dirt or dust from a hard day’s work. A large throne-like chair always sat empty at the table and Nellie learned that the master of the house, Mr. Terra, occasionally ate with his staff. It was several weeks after she had been working and living at her new home and Nellie still hadn’t seen her employer. She often saw the severe-looking woman, whose name she learned was Ms. Margaret, but no sign of the kind old gentlemen her peers spoke about with reverence. Nellie stared curiously at the head of the table while shifting a generously buttered brussel sprout around her plate. Mary would have died for the food here.

Nellie pushed down the aching feeling that swept her stomach into knots every time she thought of her old friend. One of her new friends, Sam was murmuring to another gardener across the table. They were bent together sharing some juicy gossip and Nellie felt a sudden pang of loneliness. She tossed her sprout at Sam, “What are you two whispering about?” Sam shrugged and glanced down the table at Ms. Margaret primly cutting her chicken. “George was saying Master Terra is ill again and that’s why he hasn’t been around lately. He has been sick a lot this past year and we are all starting to worry.” Nellie had to lean across the table to hear Sam’s dramatic whisper. She felt a bit worried as well; what would come of her if her employer suddenly died?

As if the whispers had summoned him, the dining room door creaked open and a tall, thin man entered. He wasn’t stooped or hobbling on a cane like Nellie expected. He strode in with a straight back and long steps. He did seem ill, however. His face was lined with deep wrinkles and had a grayish tinge. As he neared Nellie studied his features and noted his skin seemed to have the same texture as tree bark and she imagined his wispy gray hair would feel like grass if she touched it. His coloring, other than the sickly pallor, was the soft brown of an oak trunk and his spotty beard seemed like moss growing in tufts. His eyes found hers and she recognized the same shine she had often seen reflecting off stones lining the creek that ran behind the house.

“Ah, our newest addition.” His voice was warm and had the sighing melody of a breeze drifting through dried leaves in fall. Nellie smiled automatically and stood up so quickly her chair tipped behind her. “Hello, sir. Thank you, thank you so much for hiring me.” He smiled kindly and gestured a long-fingered hand toward Ms. Margaret who was still eating as if nothing had happened. “Thank Ms. Margaret. She has an eye for hard workers. She has yet to bring me an individual unworthy of their place in my home. Please, everyone, continue your dinner.” He sat gingerly in his grand chair as Nellie righted her own and felt a fierce blush of embarrassment color her face. Sam and George were chuckling at her and she stuck out her tongue, but she felt happy. Happier and more content than she had ever felt before.

One year passed, and a second, and Nellie continued to work in the garden coaxing flowers into bloom and pruning overambitious bushes. She often walked the many trails winding through the estate and saw all manner of bird and beast. Occasionally a plump beaver or sleek deer would cross her path and she stood silent watching them disappear into the shaded woods. She heard the whispers of other staff, felt the tension rising, but this was a time of peace for her, and she refused to participate in the gossip. But, the worries that creased the brow of so many around her began to seep in. War was coming.

Nellie had been born in the last year of the Great War that took her father’s life. Her mother had deposited her at the orphanage then slowly disappeared into death, broken-hearted. Everyone swore nothing like that time would come to pass again, yet here they were, murdering with the permission of patriotism. The violence hadn’t reached England yet, but it was coming, everyone could feel it. Even Nellie in her stubborn self-inflicted ignorance. Concerns were flickering around like wildfire threatening to catch and burn her beautiful new life to ashes. Nellie sighed and retreated from the woods, not finding the quiet she had hoped for. She saw Sam sitting pensively under one of the apple trees and flopped down next to him, stealing the fruit he was about to bite into.

“Alright there Sam?” He shrugged noncommittally and picked up another apple. “My pa died. My brother joined the army. My ma said she’s too sad to write for a bit. I don’t know Nellie. I think about going back every day, but I can’t bring myself to leave and I think that makes me a coward.” He didn’t bite his apple, instead staring at it like it might have the answer. “I’m so sorry about your father, Sam. You aren’t a coward though. Being content doesn’t mean you are doing anything wrong.” She laid a hand on his arm, trying to soothe away sorrow and pain that was untouchable by words of comfort. He shook his head, “Being content while others suffer is wrong. I know Mr. Terra is a good man, I do. I am so thankful to him for what he provides us, but it feels wrong to have so much when others have nothing.” Sam stood suddenly and wiped at his eyes. “I’m going for a walk.” Nellie felt the blanket of shame wash over her. She had been ignoring the outside world in hopes of keeping herself blissfully comfortable. She didn’t have family to concern herself with. Her only occasional twinge of guilt came whenever she ate a biscuit and thought of how Mary would enjoy it. She stood and wiped the dirt off her trousers before marching off to find Mr. Terra.

He was in his study, perched over a stack of letters, looking older and sicker than Nellie had ever seen him. She paused, her resolve wavering. “Come in dear girl. I won't bite.” He turned then and gave her a smile. “How may I help you, Nellie?” She suddenly realized what an awful idea this was. “Um, sir, I was just. See, the thing is…I’m worried for Sam sir. His family-” Mr. Terra held up a hand. “I know about his troubles, and I am worried as well. Unfortunately, there isn’t anything I can do. I gave him leave to go to them if he feels. It isn’t my place to stop a grieving young man from being with his family.” Nellie shifted, picking at the dirt under her nails. “Sir, it’s just…well, I have no family, but many of the staff do and…Well, they are starving sir. The world is about to explode in violence and we - you I mean - have so much. I know it is yours and I have no right, but…” She trailed off lamely. Mr. Terra smiled and gestured her to an overstuffed armchair. “Let me tell you a story, Nellie.”

Mr. Terra told her about the origins of his estate. It had been in his family for thousands of years. Owned and run by the matriarchs of his family as they cared for the land and fed the people. They gave all they had and asked nothing in return. This had been the tradition and the grateful villagers came to call his ancestors Gaia or Mother Earth. It had begun as silly superstition but as his family grew closer to nature people began to fear them, blame them for each plague or drought. A few centuries ago his family decided to withdraw to this estate, a fraction of the land they had once owned. “Nellie, it is the fear men harbor that overcomes any appreciation of, or ability to live in harmony with, nature. I simply cannot undo the lesson my ancestors learned. I truly am sorry.” He turned back to his letters, pleas for aid, she assumed, from nearby villages.

Nellie stood to go, unsure what she would do now. She was almost to the door when she hesitated. “Sir, because someone doesn’t appreciate something, or even if they spit in your face for it, sometimes the right thing to do is simply the right thing to do.” His pen stilled and she had a moment of fear, worried she had overstepped to the point of stirring anger. He turned and studied her silently. She met his gaze and tried hard not to fidget like a young girl, but stand tall like the young woman she was. Finally, he spoke, “Nellie, I don’t have children. I have clung to life avoiding the question of what will happen to this Eden when I die all the while bearing the guilt of not helping others. You, my dear, have provided me the solution. You are driven by doing what is right, never what is easy. I have watched you these last few years grow into a sensible young woman who cares deeply for nature, but also for the people around you. Nellie, I am sorry, but I will pass this burden to you.” She blinked in shock, in confusion. “Perhaps it is time for Mother Nature to once again care for the world of men.”

Nellie stood on the same hilltop where she had first viewed her home. Gazing out over the expanse of vibrant green before her. She imagined she could see the huddled masses of London in the distance, waiting. She whispered onto the wind, urging her message forward, “Help is coming.”