‘Are they with Annie?’ asked Ursula.
‘Yes, thank goodness. They struggle being in London more than they do the country, but she keeps them entertained and Mr Fenwick is tutoring them too.’
‘They’ll turn out even cleverer than you!’ smiled Ursula. ‘You said Annie is always teaching them things too?’
‘Most definitely,’ said Thea. ‘Edward loves to paint and draw and is always strutting around singing, and Samantha is still into her animals. Abigail is too young to tell yet, but mostly she enjoys being a terror. Annie has them all down to a tee.’
Ursula laughed. ‘What does George think about Edward’s tendency to the arts?’
Thea hesitated. ‘He would prefer more rugged pursuits, but on the whole he is supportive of them.’ She hated not being honest, but how could she be?
‘Good,’ said Ursula, thankfully believing her. ‘And any word from Martha?’
Thea looked at her hands and shook her head. ‘Nothing.’ She swallowed as her throat became thick.
Ursula’s eyebrows drew together, and she laid a hand on Thea’s arm. ‘I got Scip to take me to Denbury again. Anyone else would have asked questions but he was happy to. I wanted to see if I could catch anyone in.’
Thea sat up and her heart beat fast. ‘And did you see anything?’
Ursula’s eyes showed pity. ‘Nothing more than last time, Thea, I’m sorry. The house is still shut up, someone is still tending to the garden, but there was nobody there.’
‘If Martha’s paying them, she must be alright,’ said Thea. ‘That’s good.’ She tried to smile, but Ursula’s touch let her know that she understood. It was both reassuring and devastating. If Martha was well, why wouldn’t she have been in touch?
‘Unless Mrs Jenkins is still acting on her orders and isn’t sure,’ said Ursula, ‘but it seems most likely that she is well.’
Thea nodded. Ursula was one of the few people who knew about her relationship with Martha and how much it had devastated her when she left on her global voyage. At least she didn’t have to hide how much the news affected her in front of her sister.
‘I sometimes direct Sanders home by way of Foxmore Square,’ said Thea. ‘In fact, sometimes he just drives us through there now in the carriage. The house there is shut up every time. I have written to Mrs Jenkins at Denbury and received nothing back. I just don’t know what else I can do.’
‘It’s difficult to write while you are at sea,’ said Ursula reassuringly. ‘You have to wait until you reach a port or a passing ship and how easily a small envelope can go missing.’
‘It’s been over five years, Urs,’ said Thea, the sadness squeezing at her. ‘Two since the last letter.’ She didn’t want to say it, but felt she had to. ‘She must have been back and not told me.’
‘Not necessarily,’ said Ursula. ‘You know she went from the Cape to Sumatra and back – she might be using it as a base to go elsewhere.’
‘Maybe,’ said Thea, recalling Martha’s early letters with fondness. ‘But there are always ways you can get a letter back. I just want to…’ her voice cracked, and Ursula gripped her arm.
‘Thea.’
‘I just want to know,’ said Thea, finding her voice again. ‘If she’s found someone else, or simply decided that a life at sea was preferable to sitting at polite teas in polite society seven days a week just so you might be able to spend an hour alone now and again with the woman you love. Or loved once. I would just like to know.’
‘I’m sure–’ started Ursula, but was cut short by the reappearance of Agnes and the powder. It was probably best, as Thea wasn’t sure she could hold in the emotion with Ursula, and dinner wouldn’t be good with tear tracks down her face. ‘I better greet mother and father,’ she said, squeezing Ursula’s hands and standing. Ursula squeezed her back.
Conversation at dinner was largely led by Thea’s mother. Mrs Morell did love an audience. She had taken pleasure in the closer links between the Hartfords and the Morells following Thea’s marriage and the Dowager Duchess – George’s mother – was in attendance, in addition to both George’s sisters Helena and Cassandra and their respective husbands. Thea bore it as a welcome-to-town for her family but preferred it when she could just visit the British Museum with her father and sister and they could catch up by themselves.
Mr Morell took advantage of his wife engaging the Dowager Duchess in direct conversation to chat with his daughter.
‘Any particular seeds for the spring?’ he asked.
Thea shrugged. ‘Not so many, I am struggling to get supplies.’ She heard George inhale through his nose next to her and tensed a little. ‘I am hopeful to pick some up from Mr Collinson’s company before we return to Hawkdean.
‘I am sure you shall,’ said her father. ‘I hear there are some interesting specimens come in from the Middle East.’
‘I shall look out for it,’ she said, before taking a piece of veal. ‘How is your own growing coming on, father?’
‘Oh quite well,’ said Mr Morell. ‘TheSaraceniasandDioneasof Martha’s are thriving and theHoyaflowered this year. Lovely scent. But I hear there is some sort of competition afoot with the King protea?’
Thea was keen to gloss over this, as she knew George and his family wouldn’t have anything nice to say. ‘I don’t think I shall be participating,’ she said quickly. ‘I have triedProteain the past to no avail and I’m sure the queen wouldn’t want me on her advisory board.’
