The Victory Garden(87)
Then he ran down the steps and along the drive.
Emily stood watching him, feeling sick and scared. She fought the urge to run after him, to beg him to stay. Then she turned and went back into the sitting room. The old lady hadn’t moved.
“I can’t believe you said those things,” Emily blurted out. “That was your grandson. He’d come from a prison camp. Did you see how thin and gaunt he looked? He has suffered, and now you’ve driven him away.”
“You are forgetting yourself, Miss Bryce,” Lady Charlton said stiffly. “You have no right to speak to me like that.”
“I have the right to stand up to injustice. Justin hesitated to come in to see you because he thought he’d get this kind of reception. I persuaded him because I thought that you’d be overjoyed. Instead of that, you didn’t even believe him. And now he’s gone, and it’s your own fault.”
“I said you were forgetting yourself,” Lady Charlton snapped. “May I remind you that you are here at my grace and favour?”
Emily took a deep breath. “In that case, if you no longer welcome my company, I’ll leave right away.”
“Where would you go? You have nowhere.”
“Actually, my friend Clarissa has invited me to live with her as soon as she returns from nursing in France. And until then, I’m sure Nell Lacey will let me stay at the Red Lion. I’ve enough money saved to pay my way.”
She didn’t wait any longer, afraid that the old lady would see the distress on her face. Instead, she ran from the room, all the way down to the cottage.
Emily shut the cottage door behind her and stood, catching her breath. She was still in shock about what had just happened, and looked around her at the little room that had now become a haven. There were jars of herbs on the table, the recipe book open beside them. Shadow the cat came over to rub against her leg. And now she’d have to leave it all and start over.
“I was going to move in with Clarissa anyway,” she told herself. “At least now I don’t have to do it with regret and guilt about leaving the old lady alone.”
But her gaze still lingered on the herbs. She had just started to do something worthwhile. She had been looking forward to the spring, when new plants would shoot up and new flowers would bloom. Now she would never know what effective cures she could make. The healing garden would go dormant again. The cottage would become empty and unloved. And Susan Olgilvy’s legacy would be forgotten.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“I should pack up my belongings,” Emily said to the cat. “I’d like to take you with me, but I don’t think you’d want to move away from here.”
She went up to the attic to retrieve her suitcases and lugged them down the stairs with some difficulty. Her growing waistline had affected her balance, she noticed, and she came down the steep steps with extreme caution. Once inside her bedroom, she started to fold items of clothing, stacking them on the bed before packing them into the suitcases. Her heart was beating very fast now. What if Nell Lacey said no? What if there was no room for her at the pub? Then she told herself that Alice would not let her be turned out into the cold. She’d offer to share her room and her bed if necessary. And Clarissa would be home any day now, if she wasn’t back in England already.
Emily looked up when she heard a knock on the front door. She just prayed it wasn’t another woman wanting her sleeping draught. She didn’t feel up to spreading the news that she was leaving the cottage and soon leaving the village. She went to the front door, and recoiled when she saw Lady Charlton standing there, leaning on her stick and breathing heavily.
“I’m sorry,” the old woman gasped. “I was wrong. I don’t want you to go.”
“You said some terrible things. You drove your grandson away.”
“I know. I was stupid.” She paused. “May I come in? I am not used to hurrying any more.” She put her hand to her heart.
Emily stood aside to let her come in. She pulled out a chair and aided the old lady into it.
“You shouldn’t have walked all this way,” she said. “I’ll make you some mint tea. It’s very restorative.”
She went through to the kitchen where a kettle was on the stove and poured hot water on to a sprig of mint picked from a plant that was growing in a pot by the sink. She stirred honey into it, then came back through and handed the mug to the old woman. “You’re right,” Lady Charlton said after taking a sip. “Very restorative. I’d forgotten.” She paused, then reached out to Emily, taking her hand. “You won’t leave, will you? I’ve come to depend on you. I enjoy your company.”
“You could have had your grandson’s company if you hadn’t rejected him.”
Lady Charlton took another sip of the hot tea. “I know. I don’t know why I behaved that way. The shock of seeing him, I suppose. He and I often butted heads, and he did tell monstrous lies when he was a little boy . . . like how an owl flew into the room and knocked over my favourite vase. He had a great imagination.”
“Do you really believe anyone would make up a prison camp?” Emily asked.
“I suppose not. And he did look dreadfully thin.”
“So what are you going to do now?” Emily asked. “Are you going to risk losing your only grandson forever?”