Flora recognised Miss Potter instantly, and, having expected a maid to answer the door, felt immediately tongue-tied at the sight of her. Her heroine looked rather dishevelled, wiping her hands on an apron covered in fruit stains, worn over a plain skirt of grey wool and a simple white blouse.
‘You almost certainly won’t remember me,’ she began timidly, ‘but my name is Flora MacNichol and I live in Esthwaite Hall, not far from here. You came with your parents to tea there once and then wrote me a letter containing a story about a caterpillar and a slug . . .’
‘Why yes, of course I remember! My, Miss MacNichol, how you have grown up since. Won’t you come inside? I’m just making some blackberry jam and I must watch it as it comes to the boil. It’s my first time making it, you see.’
‘Thank you,’ Flora said, hardly able to believe that she was being invited in by the famed Miss Potter.
She was greeted by a richly decorated front hall that belied the simple exterior of the house. A grandfather clock ticked by the stairs, and a large oak dresser leant against the wall, filled with little treasures. Everything was as neat as a pin, not unlike a doll’s house, and indeed Flora could almost imagine the mice from Miss Potter’s tales scurrying about and wreaking havoc in the cottage. She surreptitiously pinched herself to make sure this was real.
‘Oh dear, it’s caught at the bottom again,’ said Miss Potter, rushing to a cooking pot hanging over the open fire, its contents bubbling away rather too merrily. The strong scent of burning sugar pervaded the room. ‘You must excuse me while I keep stirring. It’s usually Mrs Cannon who does this for me, but I thought I should learn the skill for myself. But pray, do sit down and tell me to what I owe the pleasure of your visit?’
‘I . . . well, the truth is, I have come to beg a favour, or at least some advice.’ Flora sat down at the table as requested and heard a disgruntled ‘meow’ as a large tabby cat removed itself from the chair. Surely this couldn’t be Tabitha Twitchit herself?
‘Don’t mind Tom, he just wants a good fuss. And what exactly would that favour be?’
‘I . . . well . . .’ Flora cleared her throat. ‘I have rescued a number of animals, who currently reside in my bedroom at the Hall.’
‘Just as I did when I was a child!’ Miss Potter laughed in delight. ‘What kind of animals do you have?’
Flora ran through her collection as Miss Potter stirred the jam and listened to her intently. ‘Yes, I had all of the animals you’ve described, except for perhaps a toad. Although, maybe I did have one at some point . . . Anyway, you still haven’t explained what the favour is?’
‘Perhaps you’ve heard, but Esthwaite Hall is being sold. I am to move to London and work in a household teaching children botany, sketching and painting. And the truth is, I have no idea what to do with my poor orphaned pets.’
‘Aha!’ Miss Potter lifted the pot off the fire and set it on a corkboard on the table. ‘The answer is quite simple: they must come and live here at Hill Top with me. I can’t say that they will get the attention they are used to, for these days I seem to find myself extraordinarily busy. I write books, you see.’
‘Yes, Miss Potter, I have every one that you have published so far.’
‘Do you really? How very kind of you. Well now, as to your problem, I have a large garden shed that is warm and dry and which I use regularly to house wounded birds and the like. Your menagerie would be most welcome to move in. There are plenty of insects in there for your toad. And we keep seeds on hand for our other animals, although I have learnt not to feed rabbits hemp seeds any more – they gave my poor Benjamin rather a funny turn once. You say you have a white rat? I’d have to take care that Tom never gains entry to the shed.’
As Miss Potter went through a verbal checklist of how she could safeguard her new arrivals, Flora felt immense relief and gratitude. ‘I also have a kitten called Panther,’ she added hopefully.
‘I am afraid that may well cause a problem, as my dear Tom has ruled the roost for so long, he may not take kindly to a competitor. Is there anywhere else you can think of that Panther might go?’
‘I can think of no option that I truly trust.’
‘Well, I will ask around and I’m sure we will find someone willing to take him.’
‘Thank you,’ Flora said, although her words felt inadequate in the face of Miss Potter’s generosity.
‘Could I beg your help sieving and pouring the jam into the jars?’
‘Of course.’ Flora stood up immediately as Miss Potter lifted a tray of them onto the table. The two of them stood side by side, as they sieved the jam through muslin to rid it of blackberry pips, then began pouring it into the jars.
‘It is such a very kindly berry,’ Miss Potter remarked. ‘It ripens in the rain, and, as you know, we have rather a lot of that here. So, are you eager to go to London?’
‘Not at all. I do not know how I can bear to leave Esthwaite,’ Flora confessed. ‘Everything I love is here.’
‘Well, you must bear it, and bear it you will.’ Miss Potter scraped the last of the jam out of the pot. ‘I grew up in London, and there are many beautiful parks and gardens, and, of course, there’s the Natural History Museum . . . Why, and Kew Gardens as well! My advice to you, my dear, is to make the most of what you experience there. A change is as good as a rest, so they say.’
‘I will try, Miss Potter.’
‘Good.’ She nodded, as they began to place wax discs on the jam and then screw the lids on the jars. ‘Now, I think we deserve some elderflower cordial for our labours. While I stow these in the pantry to cool down, perhaps you’d be so kind as to pour us both a glass?’
Flora did so, wishing she could express to Miss Potter that her life was everything she desired. Afraid it might sound trite, she simply handed the glass of elderflower cordial to her heroine as they sat down at the table, trying to commit this moment to memory, to comfort her in the uncertain future.
‘Do you still sketch, Miss MacNichol? I remember you did when you were younger.’
‘Yes, but mostly just nature, and the occasional animal.’
‘What else is there to portray?’ Miss Potter chuckled. ‘And flora and fauna are not fearsome art critics like human beings. So, you are to be a governess of sorts. Is married life not what you wish for? You are certainly comely enough to attract a husband.’
‘I . . . perhaps. But life has not yet presented me with the opportunity.’
‘My dear, I am forty-three, and I am still waiting for life to present it to me! And unfortunately broken hearts take many years to mend.’ A sudden sadness clouded Miss Potter’s blue gaze. ‘Tell me,’ she continued, ‘who will be your employer in London?’
‘A Mrs Alice Keppel. I believe the children I will be educating are named Violet and Sonia.’
At this, Miss Potter threw back her head and laughed.
‘Please, Miss Potter, what is so amusing?’
‘Oh, forgive me, I am being childish. But, my dear, surely you must have been forewarned about Mrs Keppel’s . . . connections?’