The Victory Garden(106)

“Purely selfish on my part, I promise you.” He paused, looking as if he was going to say more, then added, “Who else will advise me on what cash crops I need to plant?” He reached out and touched her arm gently. “I’ll see you soon then.”

Emily found herself smiling, too, as she went back into the cottage. As Susan had written in her diary—the heart can begin to heal.

Two days later, a letter arrived from her father’s office. It contained a transcript of the trial of Susan Olgilvy, November 1858.

The counsel for the defence showed that Mrs Maria Tinsley used a face powder that contained arsenic, and that she’d had a deformed heart that had caused her lingering illness and precipitated her death.

A verdict of “not guilty” was delivered by the jury.

“She lived!” Emily exclaimed, dancing around the kitchen and waving the letter in triumph. “Susan lived.”

Lady Charlton was brought home in the motor car by Simpson at the beginning of June. Emily and Simpson had worked hard on the garden so that the roses along the drive were magnificent and the borders in full bloom. The old lady smiled as she looked around her home. “It’s good to be back,” she said. “And I’m looking forward to some decent food again. No more of that hospital slop. A good, hearty steak and kidney pie. Where is Mrs Trelawney?”

“I’m sorry to tell you that she has left, Lady Charlton,” Emily said. “She went to be with her invalid sister.”

She didn’t say that Justin had arrived out of the blue one day and dismissed Mrs Trelawney.

“I decided to use my powers as Viscount Charlton for good,” he had said, laughing at Emily’s expression when he told her this. “You should have seen her face.”

Emily had stared at him with delight. “So now we’ll have to hire a new cook. Will you help me choose one who won’t poison us? And we need servants.”

“You could make Daisy head housemaid,” Emily had suggested. “She’s really good.”

“And Grandmama likes her?”

“She does.”

“Then consider it done.”

“You see, you can be the lord of the manor after all,” Emily had said.

“We’ve no idea what we can do until we try.” His eyes had held hers. “I’ve been able to look forward to the future without dread for the first time. How about you?”

“Yes,” she had agreed. “I think I can.”

Emily looked forward to telling Lady Charlton about the changes Justin was planning. “Now that you are back,” Emily said as she settled Lady Charlton in her favourite chair, “we must arrange for Bobbie’s christening. I wanted to ask you to be her godmother. Alice is going to be the other godmother. Mr Patterson is going to be her godfather.”

“I don’t normally like going near that church,” Lady Charlton said. “But in your case, I’ll make an exception. What names are you giving her?”

“Well, Roberta, and then Alice, and I’d like to give her your name, too.”

“It’s Susan,” the old woman said, and she gave Emily a knowing smile.

Emily opened her mouth to say something, but the old woman added, “A very common name, especially in these parts.” And her face said, “Don’t ask me any more.”

Is it possible? Emily wondered. And she remembered that the old woman had known about the trunk in the attic and hadn’t been surprised that Emily had taken over the herb garden. And she had been away from the village for many years, coming back suntanned and middle-aged. The villagers would not have associated the new lady of the manor with the former schoolmistress.

It was all meant to be, she thought, and a feeling of contentment swept through her. She had been told that the house was cursed, but instead it had turned out to be her destiny. She let her thoughts go a little further. Susan had married the man who had then become Viscount Charlton.

The christening was held on a bright, sunny Sunday in June. Roberta Alice Susan wore the christening robes of the Charlton family. The whole village was in their finery, and a feast had been set up on the green outside the church for after the ceremony. To her surprise, Emily’s parents arrived, her mother looking tense and suspicious, but her haughty look melted when she saw the baby.

“She looks just like you at the same age,” she said. “You were always such a pretty child.”

Justin had been away with his fellow poets, still on their tour of Britain, so Emily was surprised to see him striding towards the green as they sat talking long into the evening and swallows flitted through the pink twilight.

“Well, here you all are,” he said. He gave Emily a little smile.

“To what do we owe this honour?” Lady Charlton asked.

“I’ve come to claim my rights!” he said dramatically, then laughed at her face. “No, silly. I didn’t want to miss the big celebration. Where is the young star of the proceedings?”

“Sleeping in her perambulator,” Emily said. “Too much excitement for one day.”

Justin approached the pram and stared down at Roberta Alice Susan, now sleeping blissfully amid the layers of her antique lace christening gown. He stared at her for a long while as Emily watched him. Then he looked up. “She’s beautiful. Absolutely perfect. Of course, I would have expected no less.” And his gaze moved to Emily, sending the colour rushing to her cheeks.