Continue your walk through the gardens.

Rather than return to the house, you continued along the winding paths that led deeper into the gardens.

The further you walked, the quieter the estate became. The laughter of guests faded behind you, replaced by birdsong and the gentle rustle of leaves stirred by the afternoon breeze.

As you rounded a hedge bordering the kitchen gardens, raised voices broke the tranquillity.

"I gave perfectly clear instructions."

The familiar gentleman from the lakeside stood facing a young gardener, who looked scarcely older than sixteen.

"I'm sorry, sir," the boy stammered. "I thought—"

"You were not asked to think."

The gardener lowered his eyes.

"I apologise, sir."

Mr. Blackwood took a step closer.

"If every servant in this house displayed such carelessness, Lord Ashcombe's estate would soon resemble a neglected farm."

You glanced towards the flowerbed beside them.

It took only a moment to realise the young gardener had done exactly as instructed.

A wooden marker, half-hidden amongst the roses, clearly identified the newly planted shrubs.

The mistake was not the gardener's.

You hesitated.

The sensible course would be to continue walking.

This was none of your affair.

Yet the boy's anxious expression gave you pause.

You cleared your throat.

"Forgive the interruption, sir."

Mr. Blackwood turned slowly to face you.

His expression betrayed neither annoyance nor surprise.

"I believe there may have been a misunderstanding."

You gestured politely towards the marker.

"The gardener appears to have followed the instructions provided."

For a brief moment, silence settled over the three of you.

Mr. Blackwood regarded the flowerbed before his eyes returned to yours.

"So it would seem."

His voice remained perfectly calm.

"I stand corrected."

He smoothed one glove with deliberate precision.

"A valuable reminder that one ought to examine the facts before reaching a conclusion."

Whether the remark was directed at himself or at you, you couldn't quite tell.

Without another word, he turned and continued along the path.

Only once he had disappeared did the young gardener finally breathe again.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

You offered him a reassuring nod before continuing your own walk.

As the house gradually came back into view through the trees, you couldn't help wondering whether speaking up had been the right decision.

It had certainly been the difficult one.