Panther had climbed Archie’s trouser leg and was now purring and preening himself in the valley between his thighs, his pin-sharp claws kneading the cloth of Archie’s trousers. Seeing that even her cat had forgiven him, Flora finally relented. ‘If you feel that I can be of any assistance to your studies, then I suppose I would be happy to show you what I can.’
‘Thank you,’ Archie said and she saw his features relax as he raised a tentative hand to stroke Panther. ‘I would be most grateful for any expertise you care to impart.’
‘But where will you stay?’
‘I’ve already taken a room in the local pub in Near Sawrey. And now,’ he said, rising and offering her the crook of his elbow, the other arm cradling her contented kitten, ‘will you show me round this beautiful garden?’
Initially, as she’d begun their tour, Flora had done her best to test his knowledge, still unsure whether this was another Archie-type ploy to insult and belittle her. But she soon realised that his interest and, indeed, his knowledge were real. There were a number of unusual plants in the flower beds that Archie had managed to name without pausing, all apart from one which she told him was called a star flower, or bog star, Parnassia palustris.
‘I believe it’s quite rare and prefers the climate here in the north of England, which is probably why you don’t recognise it.’
As they wandered along the borders, Archie told her how, as a boy, he’d followed the gardener around like a tame dog. ‘Sadly, he too died in the Boer War. I came down from Oxford a year ago and with no funds to employ a full staff, I had to educate myself. And found a passion in the process. You should see me at home, in my overalls,’ he said with a smile. ‘Next time I come to visit, I’ll wear them if you’d like. One should never judge a book by its cover, Miss MacNichol,’ he chided as he wagged a finger at her.
‘But it is your “cover” that has made you the ladies’ favourite in London.’ Flora looked at him suspiciously.
‘Does that stop me having a passion for plants? Or is it more that you thought I was simply a louche cad who spent his time carousing and spending his trust fund?’
Flora lowered her eyes in embarrassment.
‘Granted,’ he continued, seeing her expression, ‘I am only twenty-one and enjoy the occasional party and the company of pretty women. Sadly, as you also know, the grand old families of England are no longer as rich as they once were and my inheritance came in the form of the ailing High Weald estate, not through an overripe bank account. I want to do what I can to preserve its splendour, outside at least. The walled garden is famous for its beauty. And if that means getting my hands dirty, then so be it.’
Flora sat at her desk later that evening and wrote in her journal, her mind whirring with the strange turn of events. Having finished recording every word she could recall them speaking, she stowed the journal in her writing bureau. Unusually, that night Flora lay sleepless, still mulling over the Archie dichotomy she had uncovered today. And the fact that somehow, before he’d taken his leave, he’d persuaded her to take him further afield tomorrow to see the Langdale Pikes.
‘He really is an enigma,’ she whispered to Panther, his tiny head on the pillow next to her. ‘And I hate myself for beginning to like him.’
12
‘Good morning, Miss MacNichol,’ Archie said when they met as agreed in the stable yard. ‘I’ve brought us lunch. And don’t worry, the sandwiches all have the crusts left on.’ He hoisted the picnic hamper onto the trap and held out his hand to help her up.
As he climbed up beside her and she took the reins, Flora smiled at his attire. He wore a pair of ancient twill trousers, and a roughly sewn checked shirt. On his feet was a pair of thick workman’s boots.
‘I borrowed them from the publican I’m boarding with in the village,’ he explained as he saw her eyes on him. ‘The trousers are a deal too big for me, so I’ve secured them with a piece of twine. Do I look the part?’
‘Indeed you do, Lord Vaughan,’ she agreed. ‘A real man of the countryside.’
‘As we are spending the day being other than we usually are, would it now be possible to dispense with formalities? I am simply Archie, the gardener’s boy, and you are Flora, the milkmaid.’
‘Milkmaid! Do I look that low?’ She faked offence as she clicked the reins and they trotted off. ‘Could I not at least be a parlour . . . or even a lady’s maid?’
‘Ah, but in every story I’ve read, it is always the milkmaid who is described as the most beautiful. It was not an insult, but a compliment.’
Flora concentrated on driving the trap, thankful that her sun hat shielded her face as she felt heat rush to it. It was the first direct compliment on her physical appearance she had ever received from a man and she had no idea how to respond.
The Langdale Valley was cradled between the majestic pikes that swept upwards, high into the clouds. They stood, almost biblically parted, to encompass the green of the valley floor, which gently dissipated as the raw rock face asserted itself the higher the eye climbed.
Archie helped Flora down from the cart and they stood and looked upwards.
‘“In the combinations which they make, towering above each other, or lifting themselves in ridges like the waves of a tumultuous sea . . .”’
‘“. . . and in the beauty and variety of their surfaces and colours, they are surpassed by none”,’ Flora finished for him. ‘I’m a Lakes girl, I know my Wordsworth.’ She shrugged at his obvious surprise.
‘This is what I love about coming to the mountains,’ he breathed. ‘You feel your own insignificance. We are but a pinprick in this vast cosmos.’
‘Yes, and perhaps that’s why those in London seem so full of their own importance.’
‘They feel masters of their own universe in their man-made cities, whereas out here . . .’ Archie didn’t finish the sentence, just took in a lungful of fresh air. ‘Have you ever climbed one of these mountains, Flora?’
‘Of course not. I’m a girl. Mama would have a seizure if I suggested it.’
‘Would you like to? Tomorrow?’ Archie grabbed her hand. ‘It would be an adventure. Which one would it be, do you think? That one?’ Letting her hand go, he pointed along the pass. ‘Or that one maybe?’
‘If it’s any, of course it should be the highest. And that is Scafell Pike.’ Flora indicated the tallest one, its peak currently hidden under a halo of cloud. ‘It’s the highest in England, and my father says the view from the summit is unparalleled.’
‘So, shall we do it?’
‘Not in a dress!’
Archie laughed. ‘Then you must beg or borrow a pair of breeches. Are you game?’
‘As long as it’s our secret.’
‘Of course.’ Archie reached out a hand to tuck a stray wisp of hair back behind Flora’s ear. ‘I shall collect you tomorrow from the front gates at six thirty sharp.’