‘Most of our vegetables for the table are cultivated in the adjacent part of the garden,’ came George’s voice, trying to sound confident, Thea noted. ‘We maintain this part of the garden for cut flowers and rarities which come in from overseas.’Thea cringed. The king, interested scholar that he was, would know the difference between ornamental sweet peas and the type of peas cultivated for the table.
‘Of course,’ was the only response that came back, and the king and George fell into silence.
Thea turned. ‘Would you care to join us in the greenhouse, Your Majesty?’ she couldn’t help accompanying her question with a little bob.
The king’s face instantly brightened. ‘Absolutely,’ he said affably, ‘lead the way.’
Thea did so and before long the party took up almost the entire space of the greenhouse, the small court retinue murmuring approval whilst being mindful to give the king and queen enough space to view the wealth of horticultural gems on show. Frankie really had presented everything to its best. The space was packed with living curiosities with not a yellowing leaf, brown tip or algaed pot in sight.
‘What a treasure trove,’ said the queen, gazing around her.
‘All ably cultivated by our wonderful gardener, Frankie,’ said Thea, hoping that it might jolt Frankie out of her awe, but her eyes only widened at the queen’s direct gaze. Her mouth opened, but no words came out, and then she shut it again.
‘You are exceptionally talented,’ said the queen, ‘I shall have to bring you to Buckingham House to give my gardeners a few lessons.’ Frankie stared a little more and then tried to curtsey but upset a pot of flowering zinnias. ‘I shall take that as a yes,’ said the queen kindly. ‘My husband is always delighted when I am occupied and out of his hair.’
Her reference to the king reminded Thea that the monarch was standing one bed over, now mute next to George who was at a loss to explain anything in the specialist space. ‘Would you care to view the perennial sweet pea, Your Majesty,’ she asked, gesturing to a climbing plant with hot pink flowers which twinedup a cone of hazel sticks at the centre of the bed. ‘This one dies back in the winter and shoots again from the roots in spring.’ She met the king’s gaze. ‘The annual sort Frankie sows some of in the autumn and some in the spring, to extend the flowering season.’ The king looked delighted that his earlier question had been answered, and he moved around the bed to stand next to Thea. Now she was sandwiched between both royals. George was smiling politely, but Thea could see the stress in his face. She decided that for now, he was not her focus.
‘I noticed a bunch of sweet pea flowers in my room,’ said the king. ‘It is later than I would usually expect from my garden.’
‘Continued picking and we don’t allow them to run to seed,’ said Thea, checking with Frankie who managed a nod.
The king put his hands on his hips and looked around him, pleased. ‘I can see that you are as outwitted in your house as I am in mine, Your Grace,’ he directed his statement to George. ‘I am sure we do not consciously permit ourselves to be outdone but if we commit our lives to pleasure and diversion it is inevitable that the fairer sex will prevail, is it not?’
George managed a smile through gritted teeth, but Thea saw the humiliation when it hit.
‘Mr Crumpacker was right, I have rarely seen a collection of this brilliance,’ said the queen as they walked back through the garden.
Thea was so intent on ensuring the contentment of both royals that she almost missed the reference. ‘Mr Crumpacker?’ she asked, eventually.
‘Indeed,’ said the queen. ‘Mr Knatchbull – I am sure you know him?’ Thea nodded and the queen raised a knowing eyebrow and went on. ‘Mr Knatchbull has become a regular at the king’sdrawing room. It is delightful to host him, of course,’ that eyebrow again, ‘and he has begun to invite Mr Crumpacker since he heard that I have been particularly interested in specialist plants. Mr Crumpacker is indeed extremely knowledgeable.’
‘Indeed, he is,’ noted Thea, still no wiser as to how this translated into a royal visit to Hawkdean. ‘He and Lady Foxmore shared the same voyage to South Africa and the East Indies.’ Martha had hung back from the group so far, but bobbed in recognition when the queen looked her way.
‘I should like to hear about that later,’ she said, her eyes shining. Martha nodded her pleasure. ‘During my conversation with Mr Knatchbull and Mr Crumpacker at the king’s drawing room,’ went on the queen, ‘Mr Knatchbull suggested that I should visit the finest private plant collection in the country.’
Thea blinked at her, knowing that Knatchbull would have meant his own garden at Upper Plumbthorne. ‘But…’ she said and felt her brow furrow.
‘And before he could take another breath,’ said the queen with a wry smile, ‘Mr Crumpacker had confirmed that the finest collection resided here, at Hawkdean House, and I just knew that I had to see it.’
‘I see,’ said Thea, trying to contain a smile and meeting eyes with Martha who she saw was doing exactly the same. The thought of Knatchbull’s face when Crumpacker unwittingly overrode his own collection was a treat. ‘We are, of course, delighted to host you to view the collection any time.’
The queen nodded her thanks, but as Thea glanced at George, she saw how displeased he was. ‘My husband and I are of course grateful to Mr Crumpacker,’ she said, glancing pointedly at George who couldn’t quite keep the scowl off his face. ‘But I understand that Mr Knatchbull has a very special plant that he has cultivated with you in mind. Something very rare that nobody in this house has yet managed to cultivate.’ Georgeseemed to brighten a little at the thought that menkind hadn’t been entirely obliterated on this visit, and that he may garner a few points with Knatchbull. He didn’t know that Knatchbull’s beloved proteas were actually radishes, and Thea hoped that the royals didn’t yet either. It might delay an outburst from George a little longer.
But the king’s guffaw led her to believe that she may not be so lucky. ‘The radishes?’ he paused as a full-bodied belly laugh escaped from him. ‘Indeed, in taking the throne I had not imagined taking receipt of such rarities.’ Thea saw the queen suppress a chuckle too. ‘I believe Mr Knatchbull has quite as great a botanical knowledge as you and I, Your Grace, what do you think?’ The king actually nudged George’s elbow, and Thea saw her husband’s face turn to thunder. ‘I still await the protea, but perhaps if he lets his wife into the stoves, he might have more success, eh?’
‘I should remind you that there is a place on my advisory board for anyone who actually manages to germinate that protea,’ said Queen Charlotte. ‘Wouldn’t it be delightful if it were a lady?’
Thea chose to ignore the wrath emanating from her husband and gloried in the royal praise – just for now.
Chapter 30
Only a few hours to go, thought Thea as she helped herself to devilled eggs from the breakfast banquet the next morning. Whilst her nerves had been frayed for the past twenty hours, the royals had turned out to be pleasant company. At least while they were around, her husband was bound to remain civil. After the humiliation of both him and Knatchbull yesterday, she certainly wasn’t looking forward to his reaction. She was busy trying to work out how she would avoid being alone with him between the royals leaving and their dinner party guests arriving four days later when the door opened, and Mrs Phibbs appeared. Thea knew immediately that something was wrong. She rose from her seat before Mrs Phibbs had a chance to address the party.
‘I beg you would excuse me,’ she said, bobbing to each of the royals and avoiding George’s glare. She strode towards the door, the panic in Mrs Phibbs’ eyes becoming more apparent the closer she got. ‘What is it?’ she asked as she pulled the door closed behind them.
‘It’s Annie,’ said Mrs Phibbs, and Thea heard the catch in her throat.
‘In labour?’ Thea asked, shocked.
