‘He’s a strong bairn,’ she said. ‘Lord Vaughan told me all about his family dying. It’s a generous thing you’ve both done by taking him in, Miss Flora, truly. And I know your sister would have approved too.’
In the first two weeks, much of Flora’s time was spent with the babies, Teddy demanding the lion’s share of her attention. With Sarah there to support her, Flora had placed Teddy with Louise in the nursery at night, unwilling to continue to take him into bed with her. He’d screamed himself blue with indignation as Flora had paced outside, until one evening Sarah had said she would take over the night shift. Flora had gone to bed gratefully, and had woken the following morning from her first undisturbed night in weeks. Running to the nursery in panic, wondering if Teddy had died in the night, she saw Sarah knitting in a chair by the window.
‘Morning, Miss Flora,’ she said, as she watched her dash to Teddy’s bassinet and find it empty.
‘Where is he?’ demanded Flora.
‘Look over there.’ Sarah pointed to Louise’s cradle.
And there was Teddy, his tiny head nestled against Louise’s, both of them sound asleep.
‘He just likes company, I’d reckon,’ said Sarah. ‘He started to cry and I put him in the cradle with Louise. I haven’t heard a peep out of either of them since.’
‘Sarah, you’re a wonder,’ Flora sighed with relief.
‘Only what I used to do with Aurelia when she fretted at night. I popped her in with you. They look like twins, them two, being the same age an’ all.’
‘Yes, they do,’ Flora agreed.
Archie arrived later in the nursery to say good morning to his daughter and observed the two babies in the cradle.
‘So peaceful,’ he said. ‘Maybe it was all meant to be.’
Touching Flora lightly on the shoulder, he left the room.
As Sarah began to take over more duties in the nursery, Flora found herself with time to spare. Used to being outside from dawn to dusk in the Lakes, she began to take morning walks around the farmland and gardens to enjoy the summer air, only wishing she could get her hands dirty in the flower beds, whose beauty was choked and hidden by weeds.
But the gardens were Archie’s territory, not hers. So far, the two of them had formed a silent tacit agreement to keep to their own spaces out of respect for Aurelia – a task that was not difficult, given the size of the house. They ate together at night, their food badly cooked by a local elderly woman, the only one to accept the paltry amount Archie could offer.
Sitting in the dining room, they would discuss the children’s welfare in detail – a neutral topic of conversation that filled the silences, even though so much remained unsaid between them. Flora would excuse herself immediately after pudding had been served and take herself up to bed.
Of course, she was not tired. Even a few seconds spent with Archie set her nerve endings tingling. And during the hot August nights, her window open to let in the merest breath of breeze, she even longed for Teddy to wake up and scream – at least it would break the monotony of the impure thoughts that stayed with her until dawn.
However, as September approached, the time when nature – especially of the controlled variety – needed attention if it were to survive the winter, Flora decided to confront Archie. She found him in the orchard, filling a wheelbarrow with windfall from the plum trees.
‘Hello,’ he said, almost shyly.
‘Hello.’
‘Is everything all right with the children?’
‘Perfect. They’re having their afternoon nap.’
‘Good. It’s wonderful they have each other for company.’
‘Yes, it is. Archie, can we talk?’
‘Of course. Is something wrong?’
‘No, not at all. I just . . . well, if I am to stay here at High Weald and it is to become my home too . . . I would like to make a contribution.’
‘Flora, you already do.’
‘I mean, a financial contribution. The estate needs an investment of funds, and due to my . . . father’s legacy and the sale of Wynbrigg Farm, I have them available.’
‘I appreciate the offer, but you must remember that your family has already contributed to the bottomless pit of High Weald with the sale of Esthwaite Hall. Perhaps you are not aware of the amount it costs just to run the estate, let alone improve it.’
‘Well, I could at least offer my own services free of charge in the gardens? And maybe employ a couple of young men to assist us?’
‘If you can find any still alive,’ Archie murmured darkly. ‘I realise that I am . . . not what I was.’ He indicated his leg.
‘I would like to try, for if we don’t do something before the winter, your work here will go to waste. And it will keep me occupied. Sarah becomes more irritated by the day at my constant visits to the nursery.’
‘Then I would be grateful for any assistance you can give me.’ He smiled at her. ‘Thank you.’
For the rest of September, the two of them worked every daylight hour in the walled garden. Flora had also managed to find a couple of ex-soldiers in the village who were glad to lend a hand with the clearing.
Back in her element, with a more ladylike set of gardening clothes that Sarah had sewn for her, Flora felt calmer. Nowadays, instead of the strained small talk over dinner, the two of them discussed pruning and weeding and pored over seed catalogues. And the sound of laughter began to trickle back through the walls of High Weald.
Sometimes in the afternoons, Flora would set the perambulator under the enormous yew tree while they worked, Teddy and Louise sleeping soundly together side by side.
‘They really are like twins,’ Archie said as he looked down at the babies one balmy September afternoon. ‘Who could have believed it?’
Who could? Flora thought as she fell into bed that night, exhausted from a hard day’s work in the garden. At least it aided her sleep, although she wondered how long she could go on suppressing her feelings. Spending more time with Archie had made her painfully aware of how the war had changed him. The exuberant young man whom she had loved had matured into a thoughtful and contemplative adult. Often, she would notice him drifting away, his eyes filling with sadness as he perhaps relived a memory of what he had suffered. And watched others suffer, too.
Archie had a new vulnerability that had washed away any of his old conceit. And which only endeared him to her more. He had behaved impeccably towards her during the last few weeks, and Flora had wondered recently whether she’d dreamt the fact that he’d said he still loved her.
Besides, they still walked in the shadow cast over High Weald by Aurelia’s death. Whatever her letter had said, Flora mused often on whether it would ever disperse.
The nights began to draw in and, desperate to finish the work before the winter frost arrived, Archie and Flora began to toil in the gardens by the light of lanterns.