‘Mrs Phibbs?!’ said Thea as the scuffle settled and she got a better view. The man stopped, and Mrs Phibbs froze. ‘It is you, Mrs Phibbs,’ said Thea, stepping forward. ‘What on earth are you doing out here?’
‘Just came to find you and Lady Foxmore, Your Grace,’ said Mrs Phibbs, extracting herself from the man’s grasp and straightening her dress. ‘I was wanting to know whether you would desire lemon curd or jam with your rolls this morning?’ Her face was unreadable, and the gardener looked between them with a look of distasteful surprise.
‘I should like to taste both, before I decide,’ Thea said, playing along without hesitation. ‘What a question.’ She looked to the man and raised both eyebrows as if displeased with her staff. ‘I apologise for the disruption, my good sir, but I am afraid one is quite singular in one’s breakfasting arrangements and one’s maid appreciates how important it is to take lengths to check onone’s feelings on the matter each morning.’ She saw Mrs Phibbs’ hackles rise at being called a maid.
‘Of course, Your Grace,’ said the man, bowing a little as he stepped back. ‘I do apologise, if there is anything else I can do…’
Martha patted him on the shoulder as she passed. ‘I will be sure to mention your name to anyone I hear needs a gardener.’ She stopped. ‘What was your name?’
‘Bissett,’ he said, bobbing again.
‘Well, Bissett,’ she said. ‘I would appreciate it if you would avoid mentioning our presence here to your master and we will also avoid mentioning your manhandling of The duchess’s maid.’ He nodded, and Mrs Phibbs bristled again. ‘We thank you for your time,’ said Martha. ‘Quite fascinating.’ She slipped him another penny before heading off in the direction of the pleasure garden. Thea and Mrs Phibbs followed.
‘Could’ve just said housekeeper,’ mumbled Mrs Phibbs to Thea, who grinned at the indignation despite her current, utter confusion.
‘My apologies,’ she said, ‘I got carried away.’
‘Well, I will see you at breakfast, Your Grace,’ said Mrs Phibbs, trying to peel off as they exited the yard, but Thea grasped her arm.
‘Oh no you don’t,’ she said, steering Mrs Phibbs down a path between topiary peacocks. ‘I have no idea what happened out there, but I shall be needing to know why you were lurking outside that glasshouse. I don’t like lemon curd, so it wasn’t that.’
‘I know that,’ said Mrs Phibbs. ‘Of course I do after twenty-eight years, but I have some thinking to do.’
‘Then come and think with us,’ said Thea.
They caught up with Martha and walked around the lawn at the bottom of the slope, trying to look as if they were taking some air. ‘I think that you two know something that I don’t,’ said Thea,turning between the two women who flanked her. ‘Why were we at the glasshouses this morning?’
‘For different reasons, I think,’ said Martha, eyeing Mrs Phibbs. ‘I wished to view the protea seedlings myself. After you, er… went to get some air, last night, Knatchbull could not stop talking about them. About how quickly they came up once he “applied his secret touch”.’
‘The eyeballs?’ asked Thea, no clearer on where this was heading.
‘Exactly,’ said Martha.
‘So, he’s been reading the same book as Frankie?’ asked Thea. ‘And yet, hers did not come up so quickly.’
‘Exactly,’ said Martha again. ‘And there is no book in your library which suggests that as a potential propagation aid.’
‘But his came up?’ asked Mrs Phibbs, apparently incredulous. ‘With the eyes?’
Thea turned to her. ‘Apparently so.’
‘Something came up,’ said Martha, ‘but it wasn’t the protea.’
Thea turned back, feeling like she was watching a match of badminton. ‘It wasn’t?’ Martha shook her head.
‘Ah,’ said Mrs Phibbs, as if she understood. ‘What was it?’
‘Radish,’ said Martha. ‘Easily done if you reuse your compost without sterilising. Those seeds must have been contamination in the soil.’
‘A happy coincidence,’ said Mrs Phibbs, nodding.
‘Just like you, outside the glasshouse,’ said Martha with a mischievous grin.
‘Couldn’t get in last night,’ said Mrs Phibbs. ‘They lock the blasted doors, so I knew my second chance was this morning whilst everyone was still abed, but the gardeners were up.’
Thea turned to her and then back to Martha. ‘I wish you two would tell me what was going on?’
They stopped walking and Martha turned to her. ‘If I am not very much mistaken, Mrs Phibbs here, and your gardener are in cahoots as to who has been leaking your growing secrets to Mr Knatchbull.’ Martha eyed Mrs Phibbs who did not deny it. ‘Frankie has been fabricating an array of weird and wonderful “propagation secrets” to see which ones made their way here. Mrs Phibbs, as the most trusted member of staff, was sent as additional support to the party to find out.’
