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‘I am Lady Tasborough,’ she said, holding out her hand and laughingly ignoring his protest that he had been gardening and was all earthy. ‘And this is my companion, Mrs Wilkins.’ To her amusement Anna was now formidably in control of herself and inclined her head with fine Spanish dignity. ‘We are visiting all the farms on the estate to meet everyone: I do hope this is not an inconvenient moment?’
‘Oh, no, my lady,’ he assured her. ‘Might I offer you some refreshment?’
Hebe refused, explaining that they had just sampled Mr Grayson’s cowslip wine and were feeling somewhat over-refreshed.
‘Ah, yes, Jimmy Grayson’s peggle wine is notorious hereabouts, my lady, you did well to refuse a second glass.’
Hebe, looking sideways at Anna, who was feigning complete indifference to the farmer, said, ‘Might we look around your lovely garden?’ and set off down a path, leaving Anna and Mr Thorne perforce to fall in together behind her.
‘This is very beautiful, Mr Thorne,’ she continued. ‘You must have green fingers.’
‘Green fingers?’ Anna asked.
‘Have you not heard the expression, ma’am? Lady Tasborough wishes to compliment me on being able to make things grow.’
‘Ah,’ Anna said. ‘I had not heard it. My late husband was a man of the towns, you understand.’
Oh, well done, Anna, Hebe smiled inwardly. How neatly you have let him know you are a widow.
The Spanish woman scanned the garden and remarked, ‘But you do not have the green finger for the ’erbs, Mr Thorne.’ Indeed, the herb patch was a sorry sight, sparse and straggly with several plants run to seed. ‘You should have planted them more in the sun.’
He listened meekly to the criticism. ‘They are poor, I do acknowledge, ma’am. My late wife always grew the pot herbs, and since she died six years ago, I haven’t really had the heart to struggle with them.’
So, now you both know the other is free, Hebe chuckled to herself. Who is going to make the next move?
‘There is a fine ’erb garden at the Hall,’ Anna mused. ‘If Lady Tasborough does not object, I could bring you some plants from there if I pass this way again. But you must plant them in the sun, and mix some little stones—’
‘Grit, ma’am.’
‘Ah? Grit, then, with the earth.’
‘Perhaps you will be good enough to direct me? I will dig over a bed, ready, and lay in some grit. Would that patch there do?’
Quite forgotten, Hebe perched on a bench and stroked the ginger cat who was sunning himself on it while Anna lectured Mr Thorne. At last they remembered her and hurried back, he looking flushed and self-conscious, she with an air of having put right a problem to her entire satisfaction.
Hebe was itching to say something as they drove back, and knew Anna was waiting for her to do so, but wickedly she launched into a lengthy monologue on the delightful Peterson family, wondering if their cottages were big enough, whether a second well should be dug and speculating about the quality of the village school, if one existed. She had a good idea that her lack of interest would perversely send Anna off with her basket of herbs far sooner than she would have done if teased and encouraged.
Back at the Hall, she left Anna eying the herb garden and hurried in. ‘Where is his lordship, Starling?’
‘The Long Gallery, my lady. I mentioned a nasty crack in the plaster, I believe his lordship has gone to look at it.’
Hebe whisked up the stairs into the Jacobean part of the house where a long gallery, built to provide indoor exercise when it was too inclement outside for the ladies to walk, remained the principle hanging space for the family portraits. She had not given them much attention before, waiting to ask Alex to show them to her, and now she ran past them without a second glance to where he was standing, head back, looking up at the ceiling.
The sound of her running feet caught his attention at once and he swung round, his face anxious. ‘Hebe?’
‘Oh, nothing is wrong. Goodness, what a nasty crack. Oh, Alex, the most famous thing!’ She perched on the edge of a heavily carved table and beamed at him.
‘Do you want me to guess?’ He came and stood before her, smiling at the pleasure on her face. It was the closest he had been t
o her for days, and Hebe tried not to let it affect her visibly.
‘You never will guess,’ she said, ‘Anna is in love!’
‘In love? That is very quick, is it not? With whom?’
‘Mr Thorne, one of your tenant farmers. We were visiting today: he seems such a nice man, and he has the most beautiful garden. He and Anna just took one look at each other, and I think if I had not coughed, they would be standing there still, eye-fast.’
‘Love at first sight?’ Alex sounded dubious. ‘Do you believe in such nonsense?’
