‘I wish I was going with you,’ Rosa said wistfully. ‘You’ll write to me, of course?’ She straightened the hat above her mass of blonde hair. Despite the wilting heat of the day, it had somehow remained perfectly fixed in the bouffants and rolls of its coiffure caliste, with a row of perfect rosebuds tucked into the cache-peigne at the back of her head. ‘I want to hear all about your adventures, now that you’ve thoroughly scandalised everyone here,’ she went on. ‘You will write, won’t you, Beatrice?’

‘Y-Yes. I will.’

Later that afternoon Beatrice had changed back into her mourning dress and was about to go for a walk in the orchard when a maid knocked on her door saying that Mr James Sheppard requested a moment of her time. She was startled to hear that he was there. She had not imagined James would deliver the orchids for the wedding himself, but even if she had, she would have expected him to have left by now, with the others.

‘He’s waiting for you in the Blue Drawing Room,’ the maid said. ‘Shall I send him away?’

‘N-no,’ Beatrice replied. ‘I will be th-there in a m-moment.’

She dismissed the servant and then made her way downstairs. She felt strangely nervous about seeing James again after all this time. She felt like he was an old friend, and she longed to greet him as such, but the reality was that he was the son of a gardener and had been her servant. Whatever childhood fondness there might have been between them was better forgotten.

She opened the door and saw him standing by the open window, looking out at the grove of apple trees. He turned at her entrance and a smile spread over his face. It was the one thing that had remained from the child who had sat in the tree with her all those years ago. Certainly James was no longer thin. Even before he left Half Moon House, ten-hour days working outside had made him strong and lean. His brown hair was lightened by the sun and his skin was still tanned. But the change Beatrice noticed immediately was his nose. She remembered it being long and straight, but now it was crooked and bent at the bridge.

‘What h-happened?’ she blurted at the same time as James bowed and said, ‘Good afternoon.’

He paused mid-bow. ‘I beg your pardon?’

Beatrice flushed and touched her own nose.

‘Ah.’ James straightened and his smile became broader. ‘A hazard of the job. Not all orchid hunters are honourable, I regret to say. This one objected to my reaching a mountain summit before him.’