The Last Garden in England(107)

“I’m needed here,” said Cynthia.

Diana smiled wider as she handed her sister-in-law the envelope. “I think you’ll find all of the details in Mrs. Delmonte’s letter.”

Cynthia snatched the envelope from her and ripped it open. A strange calm settled over Diana as she watched Cynthia scan the letter, then lift a glare to her.

“You’re to become commandant of Highbury House Hospital,” Cynthia spat.

“I am,” she said.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“When the hospital first arrived, I would have agreed with you. I thank you for all of the hard work that you’ve done,” she said.

“This is my family’s home,” said Cynthia.

“You may have spent your childhood here, but this is my home. And it will remain so when the war is over. You would do well to remember that.”

Cynthia paled, but still she pushed. “You don’t know the first thing about running a convalescent hospital.”

Matron McPherson stepped forward. “I have no doubt that, given Mrs. Symonds’s experience managing a house of this size and its staff, she will fit smoothly into the role.”

Diana shot Matron a grateful look, and the other woman returned a small smile.

“I think you’ll see that you are due in Wales in a week’s time, so it’s best if you begin packing your things. I’ll be needing use of your office immediately.” As Cynthia sputtered, Diana inclined her head toward Matron. “I would appreciate it if you could find some time to share a cup of tea and counsel this afternoon. I’m sure I will have many questions.”

“It would be my pleasure,” said Matron.

“Now, I have an appointment to keep, and then soldiers’ letters to write. If you’ll excuse me.”

A rush hit her as soon as she left the entryway. For the first time in a long time, she felt ebullient. In one fell swoop, she had eradicated her sister-in-law and taken back her home.

When she reached the morning room, she saw the door was already ajar. This conversation would be more of a risk, less likely to succeed. But, still, she must try.

She pushed open the door and smiled at Miss Adderton and Mrs. Hastings. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“Good afternoon, ma’am. Mrs. Dibble said that you wanted to see both of us,” said Miss Adderton.

Carefully Diana set her handbag down on her writing desk and drew out the fat, heavy envelope her solicitor had drawn up. “I would like your answer to my question, Miss Adderton.”

“What question?” asked Mrs. Hastings.

“Mrs. Symonds would like to take charge of Bobby’s care so that I can go to London,” said Miss Adderton.

Diana held her hand up. “Actually, I would like to do more than that. I want to adopt your nephew.”

Mrs. Hastings’s hand flew to her throat in shock.

“You never said anything about adopting him,” said Miss Adderton.

“Because I did not know whether it was possible. I needed to speak to my solicitor first.” She paused. “I would be more than Bobby’s legal guardian. I would be his parent. He would be my son.

“Think about it, Miss Adderton. I can do for him things that you’ll never be able to do. You could never afford to send him to the right schools or give him the right clothes. When he’s older, I can introduce him to the best path in life. I can teach him what he needs to know to succeed. One day, Highbury House will be his. I can make his life extraordinary.”

“You can’t just trade one son for another,” said Mrs. Hastings.

Diana’s eyes narrowed. “No one can replace my son, and nothing can bring him back. I wish with every fiber of my being that I had secured the keys to the winter garden better or that I’d pulled up every dangerous plant in this garden. I will never stop regretting that my last words to him were to shoo him away. He was my son,” her voice cracked. “He was the very best part of me, and only one other person here comes close to understanding what that feels like to have lost him,” she said.

“Bobby is a five-year-old boy,” said Mrs. Hastings.

“And I am the mother of his best friend. Bobby and I will always be connected by our loss.”

“I could understand you wanting to adopt Bobby if he didn’t have a family, but he does. She’s standing right here.” Mrs. Hastings gestured to Miss Adderton, pale as a ghost.

Diana closed her eyes. How could she convince these women? For the first time in a long time, she could see her life beyond the walls of this house. She didn’t want to collapse in on herself in grief. She wanted to spread her arms. She wanted to give all the love she had to this child.

“Can you even do this?” Mrs. Hastings was asking.

“Miss Adderton, if you would take a moment to look at the documents my solicitor has drawn up—”

“I’ll do it,” Miss Adderton cut her off, and swept up the papers from the desk. “I sign these and Bobby is yours?”

“Yes,” Diana breathed. “My solicitor will take care of the rest.”

Miss Adderton looked down at the papers covered in black type.

“Stella…” Mrs. Hastings began.

Miss Adderton turned to her. “I can’t be Bobby’s mother, Beth.”