By common consent we chose not to walk down through the ruined gardens but took the road to the house, passing through the grand gateway and along the oak avenue to the parterre.

“Perhaps Robert will sell,” I said, looking out over the ruined terraces. “Someone else may cherish the house and restore the garden as Catherine would have wished.”

But Thomas shook his head. “I will buy the house from Robert,” he said, “but I shall never restore the garden.”

I had an unsettling vision of how the gardens might look after a few years of neglect, the labyrinth grown over, the paths lost and the pretty little waterways choked with weed. It took very little time for nature to reclaim its own. It seemed a shame but I could understand why Thomas felt he could not rebuild what was lost, and also why he would want to keep possession of Knightstone Manor.

I started to walk down the path to the lake one last time, picking my way carefully over fallen branches and the burned skeletons of bushes. Here and there a flower had escaped the inferno—gillyflowers drooped hopelessly, a splash of pink in the barren earth. Crisp rose petals crunched underfoot. My heart was heavy and I wanted to cry for the devastation Robert had wrought and the misery that had prompted him to do it. I doubted that it had made him feel any better. In fact, I could imagine that the grief was all the sharper when he thought of how he had destroyed something so beautiful that his wife had created.

“Wait a while,” I wanted to counsel him, “do not run heedlessly into action in order to drown out your sorrows.” But he had not wanted to stay and listen to my advice and he had rejected my comfort.

By the time Thomas and I reached the edge of the lake, the hem of my gown was filthy with mud and charred earth. I’d seen the summerhouse burning on the night Catherine had died and now there was very little of it left and what there was, smelled strongly of water weed and dead wood. Thomas bent down to pick up a handful of the sand that bordered the lake and when he opened his clenched palm I saw a glint of bright colors amongst the grains. For a moment I caught my breath, thinking them to be jewels. Then I realized they were broken pieces of tile, shattered by the heat of the fire. I remembered the paintings and murals that had adorned the pavilion and felt heavyhearted. Catherine had made it so beautiful. She had told me once it was her favorite place to dine with Robert, the two of them, in the midst of the garden. She had had such plans...

Thomas opened his fingers and the grains fell to the ground in a shower of red and blue, and vanished.

“Robbie and I leave for Ashby later today,” I said. “We will leave you in peace to conduct your purchase of the manor with Robert, but I hope you will come to visit us before too long.”