Evan Haywood has been part of Rowanmere longer than the newest stones and younger than the oldest oaks. He moves across the estate with a steadiness that feels older than his years, weathered hands brushing hedges and orchard branches as if greeting old friends. People often call him the groundskeeper, but that word is too small. He is the steward of Rowanmere’s living heart, its quiet watcher, its patient healer.
Born in the little Haywood cottage just beyond the orchard, Evan learned the rhythms of the land the way most children learn song. His family has tended these grounds for more than two centuries, and he carries their knowledge the way others carry ancestry. Under his care, the trees grow straighter, the soil rests easier, and even the old stones seem to breathe more comfortably.
Evan’s humor is soft and his kindness asks for no notice. He treats plants and people with the same gentle respect, coaxing growth rather than forcing it. Though he has no magic of his own, the Council once called him the unawakened druid, a name offered half in jest and half in awe.
He felt the Hall stir when Lucy arrived, a quiet shift underfoot that made his breath catch. In her he recognizes renewal and a gentleness the land has waited for, and he believes in her with the certainty of deep roots. With Jason he shares a sturdy friendship. With Mrs. Hughes he keeps easy company and steady work. Evan notices what others miss, the wind that turns the wrong way, the soil that asks for rest, the air that changes before the land speaks in earnest. He offers what he sees and lets the work point the way.
More than anything, Evan is Rowanmere’s living memory. Through him, legacy becomes tender instead of heavy, and hope is something carried in honest hands.