[15: something broken]

Meera bypassed the house entirely and slipped around to the garden. She
couldn’t face the disaster inside, her uncle’s refusal to even start looking
for a new housekeeper was still strong, and he’d run off the last two in record
time. Minutes, for one of them. The poor girl had been barely twenty, and he’d
thrown anything he could reach at her, books and bits and even a picture in its
frame.

She’d left the house sobbing, having no idea how to deal with an irate man
three times her age hurling heavy objects. 

The garden, thankfully, was quiet. It was becoming overgrown, the care that had
gone into it had vanished along with the gardener, but at least the wild
grasses that were taking over were just an extension of the moors, and they had
their own plain beauty.

She sat on the bench, the one that had stood in the center of all the roses,
now just a handful were blooming, and most of the rest were a tangle of vines.
She watched the moor -- there were birds wheeling about, and she idly wondered
what they were called.

She started when a hand touched her shoulder. Dick stood, like a statue that
had strayed just an arm to reach out to her, smiling a little distantly.

“You’re quiet today.” She smiled a little. He was constant. Not many things
were lately.

“I’m brooding.”

“Me too.”

Neither of them moved, just watching the sunlight fade on the hills, and the
birds settle in for the night.

There was the soft noise of the door behind them, and they both looked.

Uncle Ram was standing there in his bathrobe, glaring at the two of them. 

Meera drew away, but this time Dick reached out and caught her hand.

“Hello, sir.” He was always polite.