A Winter’s Tale (52 page)

‘I don’t know why you keep saying that Jack has warts,’ Hebe said, rallying from her state of stunned stupor. ‘I am sure everything has been a frightful mistake and if we go back to the house and talk things over…’

‘I don’t think there’s very much left to discuss, Aunt Hebe, and I’ve got things to do—excuse me.’

Suddenly I wanted to be alone and made for the private side of the garden, where I sank down onto a rustic bench in the wilderness and burst into tears.

‘Don’t, Sophy,’ Seth said, behind me. ‘I can’t bear to see you cry.’

‘Well, go away then!’ I snapped, fishing out a tissue and blowing my nose.

Instead he came to sit next to me, looking troubled and sad. ‘Jack’s not worth crying over, you know—but I suppose there’s no point in telling you that. I’m so sorry.’

I stopped sniffling and stared at him. ‘I’m not crying over him, you idiot. It’s just, well, it’s all come as such a shock and I don’t know what’s real and what’s not any more. And I know
you
loved Mel, so to hear all that must have been just as bad for you. But maybe Mel does still love you, in her way, so—’

‘I don’t think she even understands what the word means. Once I realised that, I knew that a beautiful face just wasn’t enough any more.’

‘But you’ve been having an affair with her all this time, so you must care for her and—’

‘No, I haven’t! I’m ashamed to say I
did
succumb briefly—but that was before I met you. She never gave up trying to get me back, even though she could see I was falling for you.’

‘For
me
?’ I said incredulously.

‘Practically from the moment I met you. But it’s all right—I’ve always known you were in love with Jack, even if you couldn’t quite bring yourself to trust him completely,’ he said gloomily. ‘I knew he was an untrustworthy character with a dodgy set of ethics—and that he and Mel had been having an on-off relationship since she was widowed—but I couldn’t say so, could I, while you were head over heels in love with him?’

‘But I’ve
never
loved Jack,’ I protested.

He looked up. ‘Never?’

‘Well, admittedly, I was dazzled by him a bit at first, as you were by Mel, though it soon wore off. How could you possibly think I was in love with him?’

‘I haven’t been able to think properly at all since you arrived and started turning my life and my plans upside down,’ he said, sounding more like his old, argumentative self. ‘And I was jealous of Jack.’

I met his eyes and discovered that otherworldly glow in them—this time for me. ‘I’ve been jealous of Mel too, and I knew she was still involved with Jack to some extent because I saw them kissing in the shrubbery once. But I just didn’t want to admit to myself that I’d fallen for a big, stupid, argumentative—’

He cut my words off by grabbing me and kissing me hard. Being a perfectionist, his kiss was perfectly planted.

Someone in my head was singing ‘Sowing the Seeds of Love’.

Later, walking back to the house, his arm around me, he said, ‘Did you never notice that I made a true lover’s knot for you in the Shakespeare garden? Or that the moss rose I gave you for Christmas meant my heart was yours? Is there
no
romance in your soul?’

I sighed happily. ‘No—and this is never going to work, you know. We’re like chalk and cheese, we argue all the time.’

‘Yes, but I think we’ll make a good partnership now we’ve both come to realise that the house and the gardens are equal in worth—that, like the two of us, the one is nothing without the other.’

‘Perhaps you’re right, Seth. After all, if
I
love the house best and
you
love the garden, that balances perfectly. The jewel and the setting—that’s what Alys said to me once.’

‘Alys? You still think she’s talking to you?’

‘I
know
she is. And she’s currently saying the sixteenth-century equivalent of “What took you so long, dimwits?”’

‘It’s been a comedy of errors,’ he agreed, taking me in his arms again. Then he said, punctuating the words with kisses, ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely…’

He broke off as Lucy came through the arch near the maze. She smiled on us benignly.

‘There you are, Mum. Ottie just told me what happened with Mel and Jack, and I wondered if you were all right.’ She grinned. ‘But I see you are
more
than all right.’

‘Yes, but you look a bit pale, darling—are you exhausted?’

‘No, I’m angry. I just met my father for the first time, at the gate—drunk,’ she added in disgust. ‘Guy radioed me when he turned up and said who he was, but I wouldn’t have known him from that old photo you’ve got.’

‘Your
father
?’ Seth said.

‘Don’t worry, Mum hasn’t seen him for over twenty years,’ Lucy said to him kindly.

‘My ex,’ I explained. ‘I’m sorry you had to meet him like that, Lucy.’

‘He called me his “wee lassie” in a terribly bogus accent and tried to kiss me, but I told him I knew all about him and didn’t want anything to do with him, and that you
didn’t want to see him, either. Then he got angry and said maybe the papers would want to know some of the things he could tell them.’

‘I can’t imagine what he
could
tell them, unless he makes something up.’

‘I told him to get lost. What a sleaze bag!’ she said disgustedly. ‘Let’s hope that’s the last time he turns up.’

I looked at my watch. ‘Come on, it’s nearly time to close up and we’ve been away for ages.’

‘Relax, Mum. Guy and I have sorted everything out and everyone’s coped really well—no crises at all, except Charlie got out of the kitchen at one point and some children fed him cake until he threw up. But he’s all right now.’

Everything
, in fact, seemed to be all right now…

Chapter Thirty-six: Endpapers

This proof of what my mother said should lie hidden, for it would go ill if it were discovered, even though she believed it would one day ensure the fortunes of her descendants and their continuance at Wynter’s End. I pray it may be so, but do not see how that might ever come to pass.

Anne Wynter, 1602

One of the newspapers paid Rory money for some lurid stories about my past but, as I pointed out to them when they asked me for my version of events, I was too young when I married him to have had one. I told them all about my struggles as a suddenly single mother instead. The paper ran our two stories side by side and apparently Rory left the country soon after that.

Not surprisingly, I didn’t hear from Conor again after Hebe hit him on the head with her plastic sceptre.

Hebe grew reconciled to our marriage, and for her sake Seth and Jack declared a truce. He may be a complete rogue, but I couldn’t help but still be fond of my handsome cousin…

The Shakespeare scholars continue to argue over the evidence and don’t look like coming to a conclusion any time soon, but Seth and I kept the story going by
judiciously feeding titbits to the press, through the medium of George.

By May, it was clear that Winter’s End had become a top visitor attraction, and we were accepting coach bookings months in advance. My gamble had paid off.

Foreign tourists hung around for hours, cameras at the ready, awaiting Hebe’s appearances as the Virgin Queen or to take photographs of each other arm-in-arm with the bashful Bard—if they could catch him.

But then, all the Friends, in their colourful costumes, were a big hit—especially the silent young woman with the curly dark hair who seemed to appear practically out of nowhere when visitors were admiring the paintings in the minstrels’ gallery, even though she only smiles and shakes her head when they ask her questions…

One fine Sunday, a few days before our wedding in May, Seth and I were looking down at the lower terrace, which had begun to grow together and showed promise of being the most beautiful of the three.

The house was closed, but faint shouts were borne on the breeze as Derek, Hal and Bob earned some overtime, helping to install
The Spirit of the Garden
among the roses.

‘I never thought everything could turn out this happily,’ I sighed, but Seth, who had that familiar faraway look in his eyes, was obviously turning over some knotty garden problem in his head and didn’t reply, except to tighten his arm around me a bit.

‘Guy and Lucy will move into the lodge together, when we’ve had it done up a bit…Mike is trying to persuade Anya to tie the knot with him, too…And it even looks as if Ottie will manage to badger Jack into repaying Hebe’s money, now he’s sold the site of Mel’s property to developers.’

And there would be no conflict in sharing Winter’s End
with Seth, because the house is my passion, the garden his. We complement each other in every way…

It was Alys who had made all this possible and I knew she approved of what I was about to do.

I gave Seth a dig in the ribs with my elbow and he grunted indignantly. ‘What was that for?’

‘You’re not listening to me, and there’s something I want to show you.’

‘Oh God—it’s not another design for a replacement summerhouse, is it?’

‘No, it’s a sort of wedding present, from Alys.’

I fished in my by now battered embroidered bag and produced a card folder containing a slip of torn parchment between two pieces of acid-free tissue. ‘Here you are. It’s another thing we discovered with the hidden cache, but we didn’t tell anyone about it.’

He examined it with interest. ‘I recognise that symbol. It’s an ancient one, the Chi-rho. And while it’s nice of Alys to want to share her magical symbols with me, I don’t quite see—’

‘Turn it over,’ I said patiently. ‘She reused a bit of some other document.’

He did and suddenly went still and silent.

‘It
is
the lost bit of the garden plan, isn’t it?’ I asked. ‘And though it’s pretty faded, can you see what’s in the middle of the lower terrace?’

He lifted his head, his green eyes glowing in the way that always made me feel oddly breathless. ‘Yes—it’s a true lovers’ knot,’ he said softly, then pulled me into his arms and thanked me in the way I’d hoped he would—while safely holding the precious scrap of parchment well out of harm’s reach, of course.

You could never take the gardener out of this man and that, luckily enough, turned out to be just the way I liked it.

Acknowledgements

I would like to take this long-overdue opportunity to thank Diane Pearson, the President of the Romantic Novelists’ Association, for first introducing me to my wonderful agent, Judith Murdoch—and I only hope Judith feels the same way, after enduring my sense of humour for several years.

About the Author

Trisha Ashley was born in St Helens, Lancashire, and gave up her fascinating but time-consuming hobbies of house-moving and divorce a few years ago in order to settle in North Wales. As research for this novel, Trisha spent time working for the National Trust—and quickly found that running a stately home is not all cream teas and croquet on the lawn!

Trisha is currently working on her next novel,
Wedding Tiers
, to be published by AVON in 2009. For more information about Trisha please visit www.trishaashley.com and go to www.bookarmy.co.uk for exclusive updates.

Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.

By the Same Author:
Sowing Secrets

Praise for Trisha Ashley:

‘Trisha Ashley writes with remarkable wit and originality—one of the best writers around!’ Katie Fforde

‘Full of comedy and wit.’
Closer

‘Trisha Ashley…makes for enjoyable reading.’
The Times

Copyright

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

AVON

A division of HarperCollins
Publishers
77–85 Fulham Palace Road,
London W6 8JB

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins
Publishers
2008

Copyright © Trisha Ashley 2008

Trisha Ashley asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.