The Last Garden in England(106)
He sighed. “I know that you have a sharp, determined mind, and arguing with you is like trying to break through concrete with a toothpick. I know that when you smile deeply, there is a dimple next to your right eye that creases just so. I know that you’re more comfortable in your gardening clothes than in a gown, and that when you fall asleep you turn to your right side. But mostly I know that I want to learn something new about you every day. I understand if that is asking too much. I don’t have much to offer, but I can promise that I do love you, truly and deeply, and will more with each passing day.”
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to have another child,” I said.
“Then we will be happy with just each other.”
“Your family won’t accept me.”
He hugged me closer, wrapping the ends of his coat around us both. “You are my family. Will I be met with resistance from your brother?”
I shook my head. “Adam will probably thank you for being brave enough to marry me. Although you might wish to avoid telling him of our affair, in case he has developed an old-fashioned taste for dueling.”
He smiled. “I’m a novice with dueling pistols, so I will take your advice.”
I paused. “Between the Melcourts, the doctor, and the servants, too many people know about what happened here.”
“We’ll move.”
“Are you sure you can give up Wisteria Farm?” I asked.
I could see the tightness at the corners of his mouth. I hated to think he would regret giving the property up, but I didn’t see how we could stay when the life we lived was so tied to the Melcourts’ goodwill.
“The roses are not exactly easy to transport at the moment, but we will think of something. Where do you want to live?”
I thought for a moment and then asked, “What do you think of America?”
“So long as I’m with you, I don’t care where we are. Now, why don’t we see about your things? Much as I don’t want to let you out of my sight, you can’t stay at Wisteria Farm until we’re married. There is a respectable boardinghouse for women in Royal Leamington Spa.”
“I’ll go there until the banns can be read,” I said, nodding at the practicality of his suggestion.
“Good. There’s just one more thing.”
When I looked up at him, he cupped my face and kissed me.
“Say again you’ll be my wife?” he asked, his lips brushing against mine.
“I’ll be your wife,” I murmured.
He kissed me swiftly again and then scooped up my pencil and sketchbook. “Your drawings.”
And, hand in hand, we left Celeste’s garden.
? DIANA ?
Diana peeled off her gloves and lifted the little gray hat from her hair, careful not to catch the net in the wave at her temple. It had been a long journey back from London, where she’d ensured that all of the loose ends were tied up. But now it was done, and in the crocodile handbag she kept firmly on her arm, she had her future.
“Thank you, Mrs. Dibble,” she said, handing her things off to the housekeeper but retaining her handbag. “Do you know where Miss Adderton is?”
“She was in the kitchen garden with Mrs. Hastings. I believe Mrs. Hastings was casting an eye over the potato crop to see if they’re ready to be lifted,” said Mrs. Dibble.
“Could you please ask them to join me in the morning room?”
Mrs. Dibble bustled off to the cabinet to hang up Diana’s coat.
In the large, gilt-framed entryway mirror, Diana gave her hair a couple of pats to mold it back into place.
“You’re looking very smart.”
She glanced up to see Cynthia and Matron McPherson approach. “I’ve just come back from London.”
“I thought you were only going for a day,” said Cynthia.
“My business delayed me longer than I expected. It necessitated a stay overnight,” she said.
“Where did you stay?” Cynthia asked.
Diana dropped her hand and turned, plastering a smile on her face. “The Harlan Club. I’ve retained my membership.”
“Matron was just remarking on your absence. You’ve missed your usual round of letter writing,” said her sister-in-law.
The pop of Matron’s eyebrows told Diana that the conversation hadn’t quite had the judgmental tone that Cynthia implied.
“I only said that several of the men had letters in this afternoon’s post,” said Matron.
“I’ll be sure to make my way through the wards as soon as I’m finished with some urgent business,” she reassured the head nurse.
Cynthia sighed. With measured calm, Diana unsnapped the clasp of her handbag and pulled out the thinner of two envelopes she’d carried from London.
“It might interest you to know that I saw some old friends in London, including a Mrs. Delmonte, who was a fellow student of my old harp teacher. She began volunteering with the British Red Cross before the war, and she’s found herself rather high up in the Voluntary Aid Detachment. She was particularly interested in the work that you’ve done with Highbury House Hospital, Cynthia. So interested, in fact, that she thought it would be helpful to use your expertise as commandant in a convalescent hospital opening in Wales.”