“But it is said to be too dark inside for the fruit to flourish,” Miss Keithley told her.
“I want to see some of the temples,” her brother said. “We missed them when we came last year because everyone else wanted to see the pagoda.”
Lady Estelle Lamarr wanted to see Kew Palace, and Lady Jessica Archer would prefer the Queen’s Cottage.
“All the royals used to have picnics in the gardens there when they were children,” she said. “Queen Charlotte used to arrange them.”
“It is such a beautiful day,” Adrian said, “and the gardens are so well laid out and so full of varied trees and plants and green expanses of grass that I would be content just to stroll about without any particular destination, seeing what is to be seen as we come to it.”
Everyone had expressed a preference almost before Charles had handed Matilda down from the carriage and turned it over with all the horses to the care of the grooms and the coachman.
“I daresay we can spend at least a couple of hours here,” he said, “before feeling the need to seek out a late luncheon or early tea, whichever seems appropriate when the time comes. There will be a chance to see everything and even just to relax and look about us and enjoy the sunshine. Lady Matilda, you are the only one who has not voiced an opinion. With what shall we start?”
“Me?” she said, spreading a hand over her bosom. Charles guessed that her preferences were not often consulted. “Well, I do not mind.”
“The pagoda, Aunt Matilda,” Boris said, grinning at her.
“The Queen’s Cottage.”
“The temples.”
“The orangery.”
“Kew Palace.”
They all clamored to be heard, and there was much laughter interspersed with the raised voices. Ambrose Keithley was elbowing Bertrand Lamarr in the ribs for some unknown reason and was being elbowed back. Miss Keithley had raised her parasol and set it spinning behind her head. Adrian was pretending the poke of it had caught him in the eye as he clapped both hands over it. Matilda held up a staying hand, and miraculously order was restored.
“You all have a great deal of pent-up energy,” she said. “It needs to be used. Two hundred and fifty-three stairs, did you say, Boris? Perfect. We will begin with the pagoda. Besides, I want to see those dragons even if theyareonly gilded wood and not solid gold.”
“But you have to climb to the top, Aunt Matilda,” her nephew said, waggling his eyebrows at her.
“Was there any question of mynotdoing so?” she asked. “Of courseI will be climbing to the top. Let us go. I did not agree to chaperon you all just in order to stand here procrastinating for the rest of the day.”
And they all paired up and moved off along a wide grassy avenue in the direction of the pagoda, which was clearly visible from most parts of the park. Charles offered Matilda his arm. She looked smart and prim, her manner brisk. Yet there was about her a suggestion of exuberance that one did not see when she was playing the part of aging spinster daughter tending her mother’s needs. He had been a bit afraid that the journey here in a carriage filled with flighty, giggling young ladies would sap her of all energy and patience. The opposite seemed to have happened.
She looked at his arm before slipping her hand through it, then glanced up at him. “I have not climbed to the top of the pagoda since—” She closed her eyes briefly before turning her head away. She did not complete the sentence.
Since they had done it together when they were twenty?
“Neither have I,” he said.
He had been to Kew a number of times since then, of course. He had even been close to the pagoda. He had been urged a few times to climb it but had always declined. He had never really asked himself why. Was it fanciful to imagine now that it was because he had once climbed it with Lady Matilda Westcott?
“It was a day much like today,” he said.
“Yes,” she said softly. And then, a little more firmly, “Was it? I cannot remember.”
They walked behind the young people, who were, as she had observed, full of high spirits. They were in pairs, but they were chattering as a group.
“Haveyou forgotten, Matilda?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“We were in a group like this,” he said. “I believe there were six of us, not counting the parents of one of the young ladies—I cannot recall who. But they were notyourparents. They were a little more indulgent. Your brother was one of our number.”
“I have forgotten,” she said.
“Whoever those parents were,” he said, “they did not climb higher than the second story. They remained there while the rest of us wound our way to the top. The others did not remain there long. They went clattering back down the stairs almost immediately, leaving the two of us to enjoy the view.”
