Page 40

“As you are all painfully aware, however: Continuing as you are does leave Farleigh Forest vulnerable. The work you have done to make sure that it remains overlooked has been remarkable, but you are relying on such a fragile narrative: that Farleigh is remote, and in decline, giving it no value that bears scrutiny.

“You have done tremendous work protecting Farleigh from the inside,” I continued. I exchanged a glance with Havelock, who smiled and nodded. “We propose, however, that the forest must also have agents working outside it. Havelock and I will be two such agents. We will work tirelessly from London to protect Farleigh and its secret. But we also propose that the Ambassador should do the same.”

There were gasps in the room.

“Surely he can’t be trusted?” said Heather. “He killed the Duke!”

“No,” said Havelock. “He didn’t.”

All eyes turned to him.

“Why—whatever do you mean?” asked Anker.

“The Duke is not dead.” Havelock stood. “He has been felled, yes. But he lives.” Together, we followed Havelock through the ruins of the conservatory, to the Duke’s stump. There, Havelock crouched, and parted the grasses growing at the base. There were a series of tiny shoots emerging from the trunk—green leaves seeking the sun.

“There will be no need for a wake after all,” he said.

The Ambassador fell to his knees, and Amake went to him, putting her arms around him. The Duchess came and stood beside the shoots—observing them with awe.

“The Ambassador cannot stay in Farleigh,” I continued. “But he can be of use beyond it. He is a learned man, with connections in academia, and can use his influence and standing to make certain that the forest remains undiscovered.”

“Thank you,” said the Ambassador. “Thank you both.”

Heather sighed heavily. “And what of the beech forest?”

I shrugged. “The Duke’s fear is not unfounded, and neither is the Ambassador’s. The beech forest represents a problem to Farleigh. But it’s a nuanced problem that is going to take time to come to terms with. There is no need to intervene at all—at least, not yet. You have time to think it through. The better part of a century, if Havelock and the Ambassador are correct. It may be that your children, or their children, will bear ultimate responsibility for any decision you make.”

The Duchess had been quiet until now, but at last she spoke up. “What if other forests might be taught to grow words, like ours has? What if the beech forest, instead of invading Farleigh, learned from it?” Then, turning to the trees beyond the conservatory, she said, “There is so much to consider.”

“Perhaps…” ventured the Ambassador, his voice trembling, “perhaps there will be no need for war, then, after all.”

Havelock smiled. “Indeed.” Then, he stood and placed his hat upon his head.

We stayed in Farleigh for another month, during which time Havelock arranged for postcards to arrive in London from across the Continent, to discourage the curiosity of our friends and acquaintances by making it seem as if we were travelling. We retained our rooms in Farleigh House and spent many hours lending ourselves to the Duchess’s estate—repairing the grand old ruin as best we could in preparation for the winter ahead.

England has a tradition of producing pastoral poets, whose most famous refrains paint the rural classes as a whimsical people who live carefree lives enjoying simple pleasures. I have long taken issue with this depiction, for I believe that it does more harm than good: The lives of England’s poorer folk are difficult, and our beautiful country is unforgiving on those without means—to think elsewise invites the ill-treatment of those whose hard labour we all rely upon for our great nation’s wealth. Nevertheless … I must report that our stay in Farleigh, during which time we engaged in all manner of village work, was entirely pleasurable. It felt good to engage in honest labour, and each day we retired to bed exhausted and satisfied. Gathering fruit was a particular pleasure, because it meant going out among the trees. It being autumn, only a few morsels remained, but it was enough to fill a dozen baskets. We boxed some choice specimens for sending out into the world, and helped turn the rest into foodstuffs that would last the winter.

During those days in Farleigh, we spent a not inconsiderable amount of time among the trees, reading their newly revealed words. While there, I also watched the birds, and the hares, and all the wild animals that called the forest home, for there were many. On a bright, cold day, I saw a stag among the trees, the breath steaming from his nostrils, and the sight was so majestic that it left a great impression upon me. I wondered then if the animals of Farleigh Forest might one day learn our language too.

The evenings began to draw closer.

On our last day in Farleigh, we went to see Amake, who was shoring up her house against the cold. I was pleased to roll up my sleeves and help repair the thatch roof. Havelock puffed at his pipe and watched us work. “When we first met,” he said to Amake, who was passing me bundles of straw, “you asked us to return to you before we left, so that we might tell you if we were at all changed by our time in Farleigh.”

“Have you changed, then?” asked Amake.

Havelock tapped his pipe. “I believe so.”

“I shall never look at a tree the same way again!” I said.

Havelock chuckled.

“Tell me, Havelock,” said Amake. “Are you a good judge of character?”

“My reputation depends on it.”

“Then, perhaps…” she ventured. “Should you, from time to time, find a person you deem trustworthy, you might tell them about Farleigh?”

Havelock considered the question, and then nodded. “I believe that I have met several such people during my life, and each of them was extraordinary. I should be glad to.”