I do hope that these little tidbits prove helpful in your search, my dear. All I ask in return is that one day you tell me about what it is that has prompted your quest. I know you are unlikely to give me even the tiniest of hints until you are ready, but when you are, I beg you to remember…
Your faithful servant,
Walter Wayland
She shook her head in bemused exasperation at the professor’s overwrought letter and the fact that he’d found something while on a university campus and hadn’t emailed her. But then again, what did she expect from a man who locked himself away from the world in an isolated house on a remote island on an annual basis?
She read the letter again, lingering on the passage from Adam Smith to his beloved. Celeste. The heavenly one. Perhaps all those months ago, Charlie had guessed correctly. The garden was named for Venetia’s mother. It seemed the only connection to make sense.
Emma snapped a photo of the letter and texted it to Charlie before swiping through her phone. She frowned when she came to a voice-mail notification from an unknown number. She hit play and put the phone on speaker.
“Hello, Miss Lovell. This is May Miles from the Royal Botanical Heritage Society. I realize that this call might come as a bit of a surprise, but we underwent a budget review earlier this year, and I’m happy to say that our hiring freeze has now ended. If you are still interested in the head of conservancy position, please do give me a ring back, as we were very impressed with your initial interview.”
The woman rattled off a phone number before Emma even thought about grabbing for a pen or pencil. The foundation job was open again.
• STELLA •
Come on, Bobby. We haven’t all day,” Stella said as she stood in her attic bedroom, holding out her nephew’s little navy jacket. She’d just brushed it clean that morning, but she’d waited to dress him until the very last minute, lest he dirty it. The problem was, now they were at risk of being late for Beth’s wedding.
“But, Aunt Stella, I’m about to win the war,” he said, looking up from a set of tin soldiers he must have borrowed from Robin.
“Bobby,” she said sharply.
“We’re invading Tahiti!” he whinged, pointing to a postcard of the tropical island she’d found in a charity shop and stuck to the wall with Sellotape.
She planted her hands on her hips. “You’re being a very naughty boy.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wished she could pull them back. Her nephew seemed to close in on himself, become somehow smaller.
She pushed her hair back from her forehead. She was rubbish at this. Pure rubbish. Despite trying her hardest to do right by her nephew, every time it was just the two of them, she seemed to put a foot wrong. Just last week, she’d tried to explain that he must wait to be asked up to the nursery because Robin might not wish to play with him now that he was sleeping in the cot beside her bed once again. Rather than chasing after him when he ran crying from the room, she’d slumped in her chair, defeated. All she’d wanted to do was warn her nephew that at some point the divide between servant and master would be too wide to overcome.
Yet she hadn’t been able to rid herself of the guilt that had split her in two at the sound of his crying.
“We have to get to the church, Bobby. Remember, Miss Pedley is getting married today, and you’re invited just like a big boy,” she said.
He looked up from under a flop of hair she could never get to lay down quite right. “I like Miss Pedley,” he said softly.
“Me, too,” said Stella.
He held his arms out for his jacket.
Stella blew out a slow, steady breath and slipped the sleeves over his arms and shoulders. Then she gave it another good once-over with the clothing brush.
“That’s you done, then,” she said, picking up her handbag. “Let’s go see Beth married.”
* * *
Stella found a spot in the third pew from the front. The wedding had all come together so quickly, she didn’t know who had been invited. She nodded a hello to Mrs. Penworthy and several of the land girls. Two nurses sat on Beth’s side, too, with two others for Graeme, as he’d told Stella to call him. The pair of nurses not in attendance were back at the hospital tending to the patients who were too sick or unable to make the short walk to the village church for the ceremony. Even Mrs. George was there with her little band of minions—a relief, because Stella hated to leave the kitchen defenseless while the woman was around.
She stole a glance at the front of the church where Graeme stood in his uniform. Her friend had caught a handsome one, Stella would give her that.
She felt a little tug on her arm, Bobby pulling the sleeve of her pale yellow dress.
“Can I sit with Robin?” the little boy asked.
“Robin is sitting with his mother today,” she said just as the boy in question turned around from his spot in the first pew to stick his tongue out at Bobby.
Bobby broke out into a laugh that turned several heads. Fortunately, everyone who caught Stella’s eye looked like an understanding sort.
“He wants me to sit with him.” Bobby shifted in his seat. “He does!”
“There will be plenty of time to play after the ceremony,” she said. There would be no stopping him because, although she was a guest, she’d also made the wedding breakfast her present to the couple. It would be the very best that rations could offer—some donated by Mrs. George and the convalescent hospital—with the crowning achievement a two-tiered cake, made with real eggs and butter. She just hoped that it would be enough to give everyone a little slice.
Bobby settled into his seat with his arms crossed over his chest, but he didn’t fight her anymore. She was, she’d found, impervious to a pouted lip and could ride out a temper tantrum with the best of them.
“Bride or groom?”
Stella turned to the woman who’d asked the question, taking in her fiery-red hair and meticulously tailored dress.
“Bride,” she replied.
“I am as well.” The woman gave a carefree laugh. “How do you know Beth?”
“We met when she began making deliveries to Highbury House.”
“Those deliveries…” the other woman muttered before shaking her head.
“Beth also comes up to sketch in the gardens.”
“And visit her captain, I’m sure. Who knew she would be the smart one, taking on deliveries.”
A light coating of bitterness coated the words. “And you?” Stella asked, trying to steer the conversation onto safer ground.
“I’m also in digs at Temple Fosse Farm.”
So this was Ruth. Now that Stella could put the face to Beth’s stories, the affected boredom made sense.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said.
“I still can’t believe they were able to get this all arranged so quickly,” said Ruth.
“It’s my understanding that Mrs. Symonds made the arrangements, and the vicar was happy to help a couple who are both doing their part,” said Stella with a note of censure in her voice.
“I do my part,” Ruth said tartly. “What do you do?”
“I was declared medically unfit to serve by the ATS, the WRNS, and the WAAFs. The Women’s Land Army wouldn’t take me, either, so I couldn’t have done what you’re doing now.” The back of her neck grew hot, so she added, “I volunteered with a Civil Defense unit, but then I became my nephew’s guardian a few months ago.”