‘It’s not.’ He shook his head. ‘It was his garden. I chose things that would delight his eyes. I thought of his tastes when I planned the walks. When I had something new and rare I considered where it would flourish, but also where would he be certain to see it? Every time I planted a seedling I had two thoughts – the angle of the sun shining on it, and my lord’s gaze.’

She frowned at the sound of blasphemy. ‘He was only a man.’

‘I know, and I loved him as a man. I loved him because he was a man and more mortal and frail than many others. He would lean on me when his back pained him –’ Tradescant broke off. ‘I liked him leaning on me,’ he said, conscious that he could not explain the mixture of elation and pity that he felt all at once when the greatest man in England after the king would confide his pain and take help.

Elizabeth pressed her lips together on hasty words and kept her jealousy to herself. She put her hand on her husband’s shoulder and reminded herself that the lord he had loved was dead and buried and a good wife should show some sympathy. ‘You sound as if you have lost a brother, not a lord.’

He nodded. ‘A lord is like a brother, like a father, even like a wife. I think of his needs all the time, I guard his interests. And I cannot be happy here without him.’

Elizabeth did not want to understand. ‘But you have me, and Baby J.’

John gave her a sad little smile. ‘And I will never love another woman or another child more than I love the two of you … but a man’s love for his lord is another thing. It comes from the head as well as the heart. Loving a woman keeps you at home, it is a private pleasure. Loving a great lord takes you into the wider world, it is a matter of pride.’

‘You make it sound as if we are not enough,’ she said resentfully.

He shook his head, despairing of ever making her understand. ‘No, no, Elizabeth. It doesn’t matter. You are enough.’

She was not convinced. ‘Will you seek another lord? Another master?’

The expression that passed swiftly across his face was deeper than mourning; it was desolation. ‘I will never see his like again.’

That silenced her for a moment, as she saw the depth of his loss.

‘But what about us?’ she asked. ‘I don’t want to lose this house, John, and J is happy here. We have put down roots here just as the plants in the garden have done. You said you would plant the chestnut here this spring and that we would sit under its branches when we are an old married couple.’