‘Well, I’m not surprised you’re cold!’ she exclaimed, trotting to the side of the bed and bending down. ‘You dropped your robe.’
‘So I did,’ said Martha with a forced chuckle, taking the garment from Cecily’s outstretched hand and putting it round her shoulders. ‘Much better.’ Cecily nodded her pleasure.
‘Now I do think I must join you in your research as we had such fun before when we did plants in Scarborough, didn’t we,and oh I do long for those times. I’ll serve, shall I, and then we shall have a look.’ As she turned to the teapot and began to pour, Thea glanced at Martha. She saw the same sadness there as she felt, at this glimpse of the old, excitable Cecily who could be enthusiastic about people and plants, rather than weighed down by her terrible husband and responsibilities. They shared a gentle smile of agreement before Thea quietly retrieved James Hill’sExotic Botanyfrom her trunk, placing it on the bed and hoping that Cecily didn’t notice it was a new addition to the scene.
‘A tot in them both?’ asked Cecily as she poured. She indicated the decanter on the table.
‘Yes please,’ they both said at once. Cecily delivered one tea to Martha and the other to the side table at Thea’s side of the bed. ‘I’ll just have it straight, I think.’ She poured herself a glass and then jumped into bed beside Martha. The timbers creaked alarmingly, and Martha shot Thea a look of wary amusement. ‘Come on then, Your Grace,’ she said to Thea with a glowing smile, patting the bed next to her until Thea began to climb in, wrapping the robe more tightly around her.
‘Well, isn’t this fun!’, exclaimed Cecily, bouncing a little on the mattress out of her girlish excitement. ‘You two never fail to cheer me up. What are we looking at?’
She peered at the book on Martha’s lap as she settled down under the covers between the two of them, oblivious to what she had interrupted. Martha set down her tea stiffly and opened the book as Cecily leaned towards her to look more closely.
Suddenly Thea was alarmed as Martha almost jumped off the mattress and made a noise that sounded quite like ‘ahahoo!’ She stared at Cecily, and Thea stared at Martha.
Cecily’s giggle filled the room.
‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘cold hands I know. Although if you are a little chilly, Lady Foxmore, I do think you might consider wearing drawers.’
Chapter 27
The shifting of the bed woke Thea, and then a rhythmic grumbling hit her ears. She opened her eyes to see Martha whispering to Mrs Phibbs through the door. She turned to the other side for the source of the noise. It was Cecily, still in the middle of the bed, head back, mouth open and snoring louder than Musket. Martha appeared at the side of the bed.
‘Mrs Phibbs will take the water to my room. We can wash and dress in there, I am sure Cecily will sleep a while longer after all that whisky.’
‘What time is it?’ asked Thea, sitting up carefully so as not to wake her bed mate.
‘Six-thirty,’ said Martha.
‘Ugh,’ said Thea. ‘I do love you, but you do like your early mornings.’
‘As much as I would enjoy a morning in bed with Mrs Knatchbull and a duchess,’ said Martha, raising her brow, ‘there is something I would like to investigate in the frame yard before the others rise. I suspect, from the quantity of wine consumedlast night, that we should have a few hours at least before anyone else thinks of rising. And aren’t you curious to see the protea?’
‘You think we can sneak out and take a look?’
‘I absolutely do,’ grinned Martha.
After leaving Cecily a cup of tea for when she awoke, they washed, dressed, slipped out of a side door and headed to the frame yard.
‘Good grief,’ said Thea as they wandered between stoves and greenhouses. ‘Look at them all.’ There were, indeed, a great many, in addition to the display house prominently situated on the east lawn.
‘More money than sense,’ said Martha.
‘Why are we here?’ asked Thea, trotting behind her. ‘Not that I’m not interested, but you seem to have a purpose?’ They nodded at a man wheeling a barrow of compost past them – it was more than his job was worth to challenge well-to-do ladies.
‘There’s something I wish to check,’ said Martha, pressing the handle on the nearest house and stepping inside. Thea followed her, the heady smell of warm compost and verdant foliage hitting her nostrils.
‘Excellent,’ she said, as that smell always calmed her. Then she looked around. What a wealth of plants it held. There wereLychnisandGeranium, Gladiolus and Bellis. The raised planters were stocked with terracotta pots full of blooming plants.
‘Abundant,’ said Martha, looking around her. ‘But nothing of note. And whitefly everywhere – look at it.’
Thea poked an Alchemilla, and a plume of tiny white flies took to the air. ‘Frankie would never have that,’ she said, and they moved on to the next house.
That one turned out to be all large trees in pots –Sumach, Euonymus, Celastrusand even an olive tree. They were crammed in together, reaching for the light. Most of the pots hada black substance coating the rim. Thea touched it. ‘Sticky,’ she said. ‘Honeydew.’
‘Covered in aphid,’ said Martha, lifting up the congested branches of a service tree. ‘And that should be outside, for a start.’
They exited that house at the other end and Martha stood with her hands on her hips. ‘Where could it be?’ she said, almost to herself. And then a man with a beard walked past, carrying a watering can. ‘Excuse me,’ she said politely. ‘May I congratulate you in the strongest terms on the garden and plants here – they are quite exquisite.’ The man bowed awkwardly.
