Chapter 2 #3
‘If cultivation is the object, then you can do no better than the counsel of Her Grace, the Duchess of Hartford,’ Monty Fairclough said, almost making Thea jump with alarm – he was so unassuming that she had almost forgotten that he was there.
‘She is making quite the impression on the grounds of the Hartford Estate and has glasshouses bigger even than yours, Herbert. The garden is bursting with colour.’ He smiled warmly at Thea, who inclined her head in thanks.
She agreed the garden looked good, daylilies, heliotropes and cone flowers were easy to grow, it was the botanical curiosities that evaded her with her sub-standard growing environments.
‘You are too kind, Mister Fairclough,’ she said politely, still hoping she wouldn’t be recognised by Doctor Speckle.
At a lack of any further response, he looked around the men and went on. ‘I am sure we might all benefit from a sharing of information on the topic?’
Thea awaited being put in her place, almost wishing he hadn’t said anything.
‘That’s right,’ oozed Knatchbull, turning on his most charming smile. It was the one with teeth that made her sphincters close up. ‘Her Grace dabbles with growing most extraordinarily. It is a wonderful hobby for a lady and one I know His Grace is most generous to support.’
Thea applied her most polite and deferent smile. ‘Indeed, it is,’ she noted, ensuring to sound gracious while she considered what noises Knatchbull might make if she pulled out his nose hairs one by one. ‘I find it quite diverting and His Grace is very supportive.’
‘I remember Her Grace had quite the collection of sneezewort when Mrs Knatchbull and I visited in July,’ he leered on. ‘Personally, I tired of them after seeing so many in the Vauxhall Gardens, but it is so wise for a lady to keep her endeavours manageable. It is an object Her Grace excels in.’
‘You are too kind, Mr Knatchbull,’ she said, as she imagined pulling those bristly hairs even more slowly. It would be a pathetic squeaky noise he would make, she thought. A bit like a ferret caught by a fox.
The pleasing thought was interrupted by Doctor Herbert’s dour gaze.
It was intense like a hawk, and travelled from her face, down her body, back up again and then switched directly to George.
‘If you have a glasshouse, Your Grace, I wonder if you benefited from the recent landing of the Overture?’ he asked, referring to a ship that Thea knew had come in last week.
‘I am sure many of the specimens would be of interest.’
George looked bored, but to his credit looked to Thea.
‘No,’ she said, her heart sinking further.
‘I had hoped for a selection from South America, but we were not in time.’ The Overture had returned from one of the most extensive trips of the past five years and she had desperately wanted seeds from the landing.
She had even wondered if Martha had docked with it somewhere in the world and would have sent her a packet on board.
But George had been too busy to attend, and no package had arrived.
She was no longer surprised, just desperately disappointed.
‘Shame,’ said Herbert, flicking his eyes to her and then immediately back to George.
‘I may have some surplus stock, Your Grace,’ he said, his tone flat.
‘I will reach you through Mr Knatchbull.’ George nodded his acknowledgement and, just like that, Thea was dismissed once again.
She knew there would be no seeds as George wouldn’t bother to respond.
‘You are experimenting with physic plants in your garden, Doctor?’ asked Monty politely, addressing Herbert.
Herbert agreed with a raise of his chin. ‘Speckle can’t seem to stop himself. Taking all my gardeners’ time with his fancy ideas.’
‘Milkweed and eringio root show promising medicinal properties,’ said Speckle. He was a tall man and well built, but with a soft blonde wig and kind eyes, Thea now realised. ‘I would be interested to know if Her Grace has had any success with either?’
Thea started, unused to her council being sought. She offered him a smile of acknowledgement.
‘I find leaving milkweed to seed itself works best,’ she said.
‘The seeds expel and require minimum disturbance. Trying too hard seems to be a recipe for failure.’ That was one thing, at least, that had gone right in the garden.
More through the apathy of Elton, her lacklustre gardener, than anything, but she omitted that fact.
Speckle nodded, listening intently, his eyes shining with that excitement inquisitive people get when they find a like mind, and it drew the curiosity out of her in response, almost uncontrollably.
‘Do you find that eringio root flourishes better on a poor–’ but she was cut off.
The withdrawing was announced, and the gentlemen were summoned by the King’s council.
For the first time in a long time, she was almost disappointed.
She straightened and demurred. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you, gentlemen,’ she said with a bob.
They bowed deeply, returning the false sentiment all too sincerely, and took their leave.