Beatrice knew full well that some orchid hunters behaved very badly and had earned themselves a reputation for ruthlessness. They had no care for the land abroad, and once a discovery had been made, would strip it bare in order to thwart their rivals. Beatrice had read for herself the devastating effect on the native flower population, to say nothing of the trees upon which they grew and the wildlife that depended on them. And the tragedy of it all was that most of those orchids didn’t survive the trip back to England anyway.

She hoped James was not one of those who behaved in such a way but, really, it was not as if she knew him at all any more. After her mother’s death they had drifted further and further apart, until Beatrice only exchanged polite, formal greetings with him in the garden, if she acknowledged him at all. The distance between them had always made her feel a pang of sadness, and it was the same now. There were so many questions fizzing at the edge of her tongue.

Did you ever manage to see all those different types of snail?

Which one was your favourite?

What made it special?

With most people Beatrice found that she simply had no idea what to say to them, or how to create common ground, but with James – even after all this time – she had too many questions, too many areas of conversation she would love to enter into, especially since he was now a member of the Linnean Society, that most esteemed and venerable bastion of biology, botany, science and the natural world. Beatrice herself would have given anything to be admitted as a member but it was, of course, quite out of the question for a woman. Still, deep down, she could not help nurturing the hope that if she were to discover plants and flowers impressive enough, then the society might allow her to become a member one day.

She longed to ask him about the society, but was suddenly hesitant to mention her own continued interest in botany. The prizes she had won for her mushroom exhibits at the local horticultural shows seemed feeble when compared to the multiple gold Knightian Medals that James had received from the Royal Horticultural Society. His discoveries were frequently featured in Curtis’s Botanical Magazine and the editor had credited James with collecting many of the finest specimens introduced into English gardens in recent decades, gushing that it had ‘earned him the gratitude of the whole gardening world’.

‘I d-did not expect you to d-deliver the or-orchids y-​yourself,’ she said, whilst inwardly cringing at her stutter. It seemed like a loss that she could no longer speak to him without her tongue tying itself into knots.

‘Didn’t you?’ he returned. ‘I would never have sent anyone else in my place to Half Moon House.’