The doctor pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Mr. Melcourt will ask me for my bill.”
“If you could tell them you treated me for a nervous condition…”
“I would not betray the confidence of a lady. But Miss Smith, you do know that at some point it won’t matter what I do or do not tell the Melcourts. They will know. Everyone will.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” I said weakly.
He left, plunging the room into silence and leaving me in despair.
? DIANA ?
JULY 1944
Diana’s trug bounced against her side as she snipped another long-stemmed bloom and placed it into the shallow basket. All around her in the tea garden bees hummed fat and lazy in the summer sun, going about their industrious days a little slower than usual.
She’d always loved this time of year. She could cope with the dreariness of winter, but she craved sultry air. She enjoyed late nights on the veranda with a glass of something cool and sweet in her hand. In her parents’ home, she’d never have dared to wear anything but the cotton nightgowns her mother selected for her. In her own home, however, she’d learned the delicious freedom of sleeping nude in the summers.
No longer sharing a bed with a fever-hot man at night was one of the few aspects of widowhood that she’d allowed herself to enjoy. She might long for the weight of Murray’s hand on her back as she fell asleep, but she didn’t miss the way his mere presence would stifle her. Now she went straight from the cool of her bath into bed.
Passing into the lovers’ garden, she heard a woman’s voice from over the hedge.
“Remember, it’s important that you stay still,” the woman said, followed by little boys’ giggles.
Curious, Diana poked her head into the children’s garden. Sitting shoulder to shoulder with their backs against one of the cherry trees were Robin and Bobby. A few feet away sat Miss Pedley with her sketchbook.
“Mummy!” Robin shouted as soon as he saw her. He was up like a shot, throwing himself at her legs. Her heart swelled just looking down at the top of his little blond head. Some days she thought it was a miracle he was here; others he reminded her of Murray so much it was almost painful.
“Hello, darling. Are you playing artist’s model for Miss Pedley?” she asked.
“She’s drawing us,” said Robin.
Bobby hovered nearby. “Miss Pedley’s teaching us to draw, too.”
“Well, that is very kind of her,” said Diana, eyeing the abandoned pencils and pieces of paper covered with children’s scribbles. “However, the teacher shouldn’t also have to provide the supplies. I’ll ask Mrs. Dibble to root around the attics to see if she can find Cynthia’s old sketchbooks from when she was a girl. There must be some unused paper in there.”
“Thank you,” said Miss Pedley, her hands crossed over her sketchbook, pressed against her stomach.
“Might I have a look?” Diana asked.
“Oh, yes.” The young woman hesitated before opening the cover of the book. “It isn’t much. Just little scribbles.”
Miss Pedley turned the book to show the half-finished sketch of the two boys. Robin’s head was resting back against the tree, and Bobby’s was canted slightly to the left. Both had spindly limbs sticking out of shorts, the way that boys do. Yet for all they looked alike, there were distinct differences. Robin was confident, almost arrogant. Bobby shyer, looking out from underneath his lashes.
“Very pretty. They could be cousins posed like this,” Diana said.
“Mummy.” Robin tugged on her hand. “Mummy, I want to go show Bobby my pirate’s cave.”
“You know that you’re not allowed in the winter garden without me.”
He toed the ground. “But my pirate’s cave.”
She couldn’t help but soften. “And a very good one, I’m sure. Once I’m done with the flowers, I’ll fetch one of the keys and take you both.”
A chorus of cheers.
“I’ve been meaning to ask, Miss Pedley, if you and Captain Hastings have discussed the plans for your wedding any further,” she said.
“Yes. That is, we’ve written about them.”
“Is he still in Normandy?” Diana asked.
“He’s been attached to the Pioneer Corps, so he’s been back and forth, although he’s stationed in Southampton. I don’t know when he’ll have leave, but we’ll marry then,” Miss Pedley said.
“That’s hardly helpful for planning,” she said.