Chapter 23 #2
‘Scip!’ she exclaimed as they entered the stove range. She made it to the gardener in five long strides and was met by his wide smile. Narrowly avoiding embracing him, she reached for him and squeezed his arm briefly. Even she wouldn’t break decorum by hugging the staff.
‘Your Grace,’ he said warmly. ‘I have waited so long for your return.’
‘Not as long as I have,’ she muttered to him, and his smile grew wider.
‘Scip has been propagating for the shrub border,’ said Ursula excitedly. ‘And we have been harvesting samples from outside. In July the west lawn will be full of pyramid orchids since we collected seed and sowed it… when was it, Scip?’ she asked, barely taking a breath.
‘Three years ago, Miss Ursula,’ he said, smiling at her fondly.
Thea was pleased. Ursula needed someone of her own age around and found it hard to get out independently of their parents.
Scip was wise beyond his years, having arrived in Britain as a slave and eventually being given his freedom by Mr Morell.
He had taught Thea a great many life lessons, as they grew up together.
‘Three years, yes,’ said Ursula excitedly. ‘We brought soil with them as you seem to have to do that with orchids and they came up last year and the rosettes are starting to form this year already.’
‘Hundreds of them, we think,’ said Scip.
‘Incredible,’ said Thea. What a life these two must have, experimenting with plants inside and outside, accompanied by Scip’s extensive growing knowledge. It must feel like anything was possible.
‘Martha, you must come and see your carnivores,’ said Mr Morell from behind them. Thea turned around to see Crumpacker looking alarmed. ‘Carnivorous plants,’ clarified Mr Morell, heading through an internal door in the stove house that hadn’t been there before.
‘Ah,’ said Crumpacker, looking relieved. ‘Carnivores means more risk entirely when travelling, does it not, My Lady?’ He grinned fondly at Martha, who looked a little uncomfortable. Thea was about to ask, but Martha guided her through the doors behind Mr Morell.
‘Indeed,’ she said simply. ‘I think we shall be safe in here.’
Thea followed her. The environment couldn’t be more different to the warm dryness of the stove house they had just left. It was humid and lush, with greenery practically dripping from the walls.
‘Just like Java,’ said Crumpacker from behind Thea where she had ended up between him and Martha on the narrow path. ‘Do you remember, my lady? If only we could have found seeds of that giant arum. Perhaps we shall go back one day at the right time of year.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Martha, speaking over Thea’s head. ‘I am sure Mr Morell could make a good go of them here.’
Thea felt a little disquiet run through her and tried not to be abashed that Martha noted her father over her for the growing of whatever giant plant it was that she didn’t recognise the name of. Not that she could blame her. These growing conditions were vastly superior to hers.
‘I see you have stolen my ideas, Ben,’ said Martha, but with a generous smile.
She nodded to the bowls of water over the heating pipes and the damp floor.
‘It’s difficult with dry heat in the pipes but if you keep the humidity up and the soot down on the leaves, the environment is as good as you will get. ’
‘Have you managed to improve your growing conditions from just the hot wall, Thea?’ asked Ursula. ‘I hope so as it must help you to grow much more?’
‘Ah, no,’ said Thea. ‘Still the hot wall.’
Martha looked between them. ‘When did you last visit Hawkdean, Ursula?’
‘Oh, the first year of Thea’s marriage,’ said Ursula. ‘Just as Samantha was born. Since then, we haven’t managed to find a date that suits everyone and the growing season.’
Martha looked to Thea in surprise, but Thea just shrugged.
‘It is difficult with George’s insistence that we spend the winter in London, and then there is so much going on for the family here.
’ It was true but it was a weak excuse. The reality was that she wanted to spare her sister the spectacle of George in his own house, his evening drunkenness and how objectionable he could be.
She knew Ursula already felt guilty about the marriage and wanted to spare her from knowing how miserable she really was.
‘I see,’ said Martha, and it was obvious that she did. Nothing escaped that shrewd mind, thought Thea. ‘So, my carnivores, Ben.’ Martha turned back to Mr Morell and Thea was grateful of the deflection.
‘Scip has been tending to them with great diligence,’ he said.
They are thriving and the house is practically fly-free.
’ He gestured to the vertical forms of Sarracenias like a tiny forest of lidded tubes on a bed made into a sort of bog.
They were interplanted with venus fly traps, and the whole effect was mesmerising.
‘What a triumph,’ said Crumpacker in awe. ‘I have never seen them planted so naturally in cultivation. Many congratulations, Scip.’
Scip nodded in acknowledgement. Thea knew it was his passion as much as her father and Ursula’s. ‘All Lady Foxmore’s from Denbury,’ he said graciously. ‘I am merely keeping them well until she is able to reside at home more regularly.’
Thea looked at Martha. When would that be, she wondered. When would Martha be able to get back to a normal anything? She either had a fragmented life, or they were apart. Another thing Thea could feel guilty about.
But Martha seemed entirely unconcerned. ‘I am delighted they are in your good care, Scip,’ she said lightly. ‘And I see there is no rush to take them back to Denbury. In fact, I should like you to visit with me while we are here and bring back some more plants, if you would?’
He readily agreed.
‘At least it’s… nicely maintained,’ said Thea, walking round Martha’s glasshouses two days later. They used to be lush and verdant, dripping with flowers and foliage of all kinds, but now all that remained was a skeleton of half-hardy shrubs that the gardener could keep watered easily.
‘And they were my instructions,’ said Martha. ‘I am happy with it being so whilst I am away.’
‘Mmm,’ said Thea.
Martha eyed her. ‘Where are the children?’
Thea gestured beyond the formal garden. ‘Letting off some steam out in the park. Abigail wanted to boat in your formal canal, but Annie managed to distract her with the cows. She loves cows.’
Martha laughed. ‘They have your adventurous spirit and I’m so glad.
’ She glanced at Scip who was inspecting a Trachelospermum by the west wall, and then to Crumpacker, who was in the glasshouse showing Mr Fenwick the fine hairs on the base of the leaves of the Olearia. ‘Come inside with me,’ she said.
Martha let them in through the side door and led Thea through the great hall, across the staircase hall and into the parlour.
She had never been one for home decoration and the interior was dated, but now much of her furniture was covered up with great throws and the light was blocked with nets to keep the paintings from fading.
Martha closed the door of the parlour and Thea sat heavily on a chair in the cozy room looking out over the garden.
‘This isn’t a home for you, anymore,’ said Thea, feeling sad for Martha.
She had never really thought of the reality of Martha spending time at Denbury when she was away from Hawkdean.
In her head, it was like the vibrant Denbury of their past life together before her marriage, but Martha’s travel time necessitated that it was no longer the same.
‘I keep some rooms free and done up,’ said Martha, looking out of the window and not seeming down on the situation at all. ‘I have never needed the whole house, and it helps not to have to keep it all lit, warmed and dusted.’
‘Helps the finances too?’ asked Thea.
‘Definitely that,’ said Martha. ‘It is more of a struggle without the shares of course, but we will build another way.’ Before Martha left, they had discussed at length the fact that Martha’s estate was supported by shares in slave ships.
And she had sold the shares after they had learned more about the horrors of the trade.
‘Do you regret selling them?’ Thea asked.
Martha turned and looked at her fiercely. ‘Absolutely not. You were so very right. Having been around the world and seeing how the British treat indigenous people, I would have sold the shares anyway. I want no part in that business.’
Thea nodded, reassured. ‘Do you think Denbury will survive without the income?’
Martha shrugged. ‘We are surviving on the estate income for now, but with a skeleton staff. I have just taken on a new agent for the estate who I have tasked with improving the agricultural income. I may have to choose at some point whether to sell, or alternatively to sell a couple of the remaining properties in Foxmore Square, but not yet. I will not be destitute, Thea, please do not concern yourself with that. In any case I should probably spend most time in London if I were not with you at Hawkdean. George will send me away at some point and there is little to do here by oneself.’
Thea joined her at the window. ‘You have given up so much for me, and still, I cannot give you anything.’
Martha took her hand and turned towards her. ‘You give me everything that it is possible to give, and you have given up so much for others. What more could I ask?’
Thea remained looking into the garden and ignored the question. That was beside the point. ‘I’m sorry you have to be my mistress,’ she said quietly. ‘I know you didn’t want that and it’s hard, being between households. Being here really brings that into focus, doesn’t it?’
Martha slid her hand soothingly around Thea’s waist. ‘If you remember, it is what we agreed on. I thought I couldn’t do it, but the idea of not having you at all was worse than having only a part of you. We always said we were strong enough for this and I know that we are.’