“My mother and I tend these older areas, but she designed the rest, expanding the gardens down toward the pond,” Lise continued.“You’ll see the farther we go from the house, the wilder the gardens, as she likes to experiment, apart from the herbs and vegetables, of course.”She gestured toward neatly tended areas to their left, within easy access of the kitchen door behind them.
They continued along the gravel path toward the lower garden, where the clipped lindens formed a cool, green corridor.
“Those,” she said, touching a small leaf on a tree covered in fragrant yellow-green flowers, “are winterlinden.The bees adore them, and the honey here tastes faintly of their blossoms.”
Beyond the alley, the lawn opened to a sweep of late-summer color.Tall spires of foxglove rising beside feathery meadowsweet, and clusters of deep-blue monkshood that she warned him not to touch.
“Quite poisonous,” she explained.“But pretty, don’t you think?”
He nodded, although not convinced their beauty was worth keeping them around.
“My father prefers the native plants,” she added, gesturing toward a drift of purple loosestrife where dragonflies hovered like bits of stained glass.“But my mother insists on her exotics.”
Lise pointed to a pair of young copper beeches, their leaves a dark wine-red.“These have been fashionable in this area for decades, but Papa still considers them ‘foreign intruders.’”
She almost laughed, the merest beginnings of an amused sound, before stopping herself.Jonathan would have liked to hear her being fully at ease and happy, but was grateful simply to be walking with her.
“Mama loves her wild lavender.”Lise pointed out its flower spikes, long since faded to brown.“That’s rue and those are asters.”Their purple petals were nearly luminous in the fading light.
“And there,” she added, gesturing to a small tree near the garden wall, “is the medlar.Do you have them in England?”
“I’ve seen them before,” he said.“Astonishingly ugly fruit.”
“But delicious, once theyblet.Soften, you understand.We let them get overly ripe.”She smiled faintly.“My mother makes a jelly from them.It takes patience, but the result is worth the wait.”
Patience.Jonathan nearly groaned.He was quickly running out, realizing he needed to talk to her privately, or go mad.Yet, her parents were mere steps ahead of them, taking the path around a large pond.He and Lise followed, and he wondered whether they would ever be able to speak alone.
At the far side of the pond, there was a dense area of bushy plants beside a gazebo and two pine trees, that had a purposeful look.That would be his destination.
“I can see why you prefer this to London,” he said into the companionable silence that had fallen.A white mute swan glided past clumps of yellow iris, and in the reeds, a reed warbler scolded the two of them for disturbing its nest as they strolled by.
“This is where I belong,” she said, making his chest tighten.There was not only a betrothed standing in his way, but also her love of country.
“We even have a hedgehog family under the hazels,” Lise told him, lowering her voice as though sharing a delightful secret.“They keep the slugs away, better than any diligent gardener could.”
Jonathan nodded, before blurting out, “We have hedgehogs in England.”She darted him a puzzled look.
Clamping his mouth closed, he kept it that way until they reached the other side of the pond.There, he began dragging his feet, pausing to look down into the water at intervals, for no other reason than to allow her parents to increase the distance.
Finally, they reached the pond’s farthest point from the house.Towering above the path were the two majestic pines he’d spotted, their soft needles whispering secrets from distant American forests.
“Those were planted sixty years ago by my grandfather,” Lise said, seeing that he was looking at them.“Weymouth pines.Papa said his father saw them as a symbol of the Enlightenment, or maybe enlightenment in general.I’m not really sure.”
Jonathan didn’t know about any of that, but they were impressive trees, soaring like two sentinels over the landscape.Nearby, the vibrant blooms of large hydrangeas created the density he’d seen from the other side.Their enormous mop-head flowers shifted from sapphire blue to rosy pink.
It was as though Lise’s blue eyes and pink gown had been perfectly represented by the flowers.A sign?He glanced ahead, the senior von Ostenfelds had reached a brick wall that curved artfully, perhaps hiding something behind it, like a bee house or even the kitchen’s dunghill.Frau von Ostenfeld appeared to be examining the state of the espalier climbing the wall, gesturing to her husband in a way that any man knew, even at a distance, meant there was something he had done wrong or needed to do better.
It was as good a time as any.About to grab Lise’s hand and drag her behind the bush, she suddenly stopped walking and turned to face him.
“Why did you come?”she asked quietly, quickly.
There was no preamble, no pretense.Just the question, direct and unadorned.
Jonathan’s throat tightened.“I told you.I have work in the area.”
“Do not lie to me.”Her voice was low, fierce.“Not now.Not after —” She broke off, shaking her head.“I understand about surveying, but why did you come to my home?”
“I don’t know,” he said, and it was the truth.“I thought ...that is, I do have business in the region.I told myself this was a fortuitous coincidence, nothing more.That I could see you and be satisfied that you were well, and then leave again.”
