Lizzie was about to protest both the verdict on her story and the judgment on herself when the door in the hall was opened by Billy to admit the new gardener. A handsome young fellow, in his late twenties, he came two steps into the room and then stood there respectfully with his cap in his hand, waiting for Miss Cornelia to speak to him.
After a swift glance of observation that gave her food for thought she did so.
“You are Brooks, the new gardener?”
The young man inclined his head.
“Yes, madam. The butler said you wanted to speak to me.”
Miss Cornelia regarded him anew. His hands look soft—for a gardener’s, she thought. And his manners seem much too good for one—still—
“Come in,” she said briskly. The young man advanced another two steps. “You’re the man my niece engaged in the city this afternoon?”
“Yes, madam.” He seemed a little uneasy under her searching scrutiny. She dropped her eyes.
“I could not verify your references as the Brays are in Canada—” she proceeded.
The young man took an eager step forward. “I am sure if Mrs. Bray were here—” he began, then flushed and stopped, twisting his cap.