“Very well.”
“What?” There was something he was not telling her. “What is it? Giles, do not dare keep any secrets from me now.”
“Oh, it is nothing, nothing at all.”
“Giles!”
“Only a little conversation I had with Nicholas Carew when I was at court.”
“Carew? Anne’s cousin?”
“Is he? I suppose he is. I was waiting to see the king, and we struck up a conversation. It seems we share an interest in birds of prey. Particularly the Eurasian Goshawks, with the striped breast, that is all.”
“It is not all, is it? Come on, I can tell there is more.”
“Nothing really, only that Carew happened to mention that he keeps a very fine aviary in London, and that if I am ever in the city, I would be welcome to sport with him.”
Thomasin nodded. “You and your birds! You are welcome to invite him to Green Hollow any time.”
“It is just something for when we next visit. As we must, by the terms of your uncle’s will, of course.”
Thomasin rolled her eyes. “Come upstairs, Lettice, and help me out of this gown. I will tell you all the details of the coronation. After that, we will start to pack for Suffolk.”
TWENTY-TWO
“There is the clump of trees, like a family,” said Lettice, pointing out of the carriage window. “And when we pass around this corner, we shall see the turning to Dedham.”
They had been travelling all day, under cloudy skies, through the villages on the outskirts of London, through the red brick and pale stucco of Essex homes, jumbled together around little churches with tall spires, past swaying fields of corn and wheat, through the green plains and narrow road that drew them back into Suffolk. Thomasin could not deny that her heart was singing at the thought of seeing Green Hollow again, with its peaceful trees and the beautiful garden, bright by day, mysterious by night, where she had always been so happy.
“I wonder what will have changed in the garden,” said Lettice, drawing her head back inside. Giles rode alongside, but the carriage was shared between the three women. Mariot had found the journey less arduous this time, even managing to comment on a few landmarks that sat on the horizon, telling distant stories. On the last day at Monk’s Place, she had seemed more content, even slightly disappointed to be leaving, having finally struck up an understanding with Cook.
“We have only been gone two weeks,” said Thomasin, “barely that. Do not worry that you won’t recognise the place.”
“But is it June, sister! May and June are the growing seasons. You know that as well as I. The garden will be quite overrun, and there will be mazes of weeds and roses to contend with. They will even have started growing in through the house, or covering it over like ivy, so we shall have to hack our way inside.”
“I doubt Rogers will have let that happen.”
“Rogers will have fallen under the spell of the enchanted roses and we will find him in the parlour, wrapped in thorns.”
“Where in the world do you get these strange ideas?”
“From books, of course. Where else?”
“Where else indeed! That reminds me, I must give you that book More lent me about the constellations. It is the perfect time of year to observe Castor and Pollux in the sign of Gemini.”
“The sign of my birthday! How long is there to go?” She counted quickly. “Five days! May I stay with you until then, before I must return to Eastwell?”
“I am sure Mother is very keen to have you back by her side.”
“Oh please, Thomasin, it is my birthday, so I should get to choose!”
“Well, perhaps I can ask Father and Mother to come over for dinner on that day, and you may return with them afterwards. That way, you will both get what you want.”
“Yes! What a good idea.” She stuck her head out of the window again. “We’re coming up to that little lake with the willows around it. Only a mile now and then we are back.”
Thomasin looked across at Mariot. “Are you pleased to be returning to Suffolk?”
The girl shrugged. “I suppose it depends, my lady, whether I am returning to my father or to your house.”
