The Last Garden in England(62)

“I am,” she said, brightness glowing past her guilt.

“Then let’s go find him.”

The entryway was already heaving with men and women in a mix of uniforms and civilian clothes. The dance would start at six o’clock to take advantage of the lengthening late-spring days and to avoid violating the blackout. No one here cared that six would have been unthinkably early in peacetime. They would all squeeze as much joy out of the night as they could.

Beth floated through the brightly lit entryway toward the French doors thrown open to the veranda and the sound of “I’ll Be Seeing You.” Sister Wharton collected their tickets, and they handed off their coats to Dorothy, a maid who looked desperate to be asked to dance.

Fighting her niggling fears, Beth’s eyes swept the crowded dance floor as she looked for Graeme. What if he’d fallen ill? Or perhaps he’d been discharged earlier than he thought, and he couldn’t get word to her. Or maybe he’d changed his mind about her.

“There you are.”

She spun on her heel with a smile of relief. There he stood, tall in his dress uniform, a spray of orchids in his right hand.

“You look beautiful,” he said, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek.

She pressed a hand to her chest, still not used to its flutter every time he drew that close. “Thank you.”

He held up the flowers. “For you.”

“They’re beautiful,” she said, smelling them. A pin secured the ribbon wrapping the stems: a corsage. The man had managed to find her a corsage in the middle of rural Warwickshire during a war.

“Thank you,” she murmured as she pinned the orchids to her navy dress.

“Shall we dance?” he asked, gesturing to the floor.

She realized then that he wasn’t wearing his sling. “It’s gone!”

“The doctor changed his mind about surgery. He told me I could remove it just this morning. I’ve been warned every way from Sunday that I can’t do much with it, but he didn’t disapprove of the idea of me leading a beautiful woman around on the dance floor, so long as the song is slow.”

“Then we should dance to celebrate,” she said, taking his hand.

They pushed into the crowd of RAF men, army officers, WAAFs, land girls, nurses, and doctors. When they found a patch of dance floor, Graeme slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her to him. “Here we go,” he said.

“Where did you find orchids?” she asked.

“I have my methods,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. When she laughed, he added, “Highbury House isn’t the only big house in the area. I happen across Lord Walford of Braembreidge Manor walking his dogs from time to time. His house was requisitioned for a school, but he refused to leave because he has a prizewinning collection of orchids. When I explained the situation, he gave me a few.”

“He gave you his prizewinning orchids?” she asked.

He grinned down at her. “I told him that they would be worn by the most beautiful woman in the world tonight. Lord Walford is a bit of an old romantic underneath it all.”

He pulled her closer to him, and it seemed the most natural thing to rest her head lightly against his shoulder.

“This isn’t hurting you, is it?” she asked, glancing up at him.

“Not even the littlest bit,” he said.

“Good,” she murmured into the warm wool of his jacket.

When the song ended, she reluctantly began to step away, aware of the couples breaking apart all around her. But although he dropped her hand and let his arm slide from around her waist, he twined his fingers in hers. “Do you fancy a walk in the gardens?” he asked.

She cast a glance around. “Are we supposed to?”

“I don’t think Mrs. Symonds will mind,” he said, jerking his chin to where the mistress of the house was laughingly protesting being led out by a senior officer.

“I’ve never seen her look that happy before,” said Beth in awe.

“I don’t think she laughs often. It’s a shame.” He tugged her hand. “Let’s go.”

She let him pull her toward the lime walk. New green leaves fanned out above them in the soft light of the early evening.

“Have you thought of the end of the war?” he asked her as he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm.

“Haven’t we all?”

“I mean, have you thought about what you’ll do? Or where you’ll go?” he asked.

She paused. “I thought that maybe I could ask Mr. and Mrs. Penworthy if they could afford to have me stay on. If they need me, that is.” She paused. “I can’t go back to Dorking.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have a home there any longer. My aunt made it clear that she’d done her duty by me. I’m on my own.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. When she took me in, I didn’t have anyone in the world, and I would have likely ended up in an orphanage otherwise. But she made it clear from the beginning that she didn’t want me.”

He shook his head. “How could anyone not want you?”

She didn’t demure at the compliment. She liked hearing Graeme say these things. Colin had written sweet things to her, too, but she couldn’t help feeling it had been a pantomime of a happy couple.