William, fearing that the old man was having a breakdown due to overwork and worry about his two sons, who were both at the front, stopped the butler and the valet when they would have forcibly removed the old man from the room, and instead sat him down on a chair, telling a maid to get a glass of brandy.

Visibly shaking and hardly able to form his words, the gardener described the scene that had awaited him that morning. Every single rose bush in his precious protected walled garden had been uprooted and savagely mutilated, and the paraffin for the heaters used in the hothouse had been poured onto the mangled remains before being set alight. The hothouse windows had all been smashed and the roses therein, cultivated for the flower displays in the house, had received similar treatment. Nothing remained. His own spade and shears were lying amidst the devastation, and even the stems of the climbing roses on the stone walls had been hacked away.

What madman would do such a thing? And why, why?

Chapter Thirty-Two

Once Betsy had been taken to school in the car by Hammond, Rose had gone to see William in his study. Her father-in-law had told the gardener to go home and rest for the day and that he would deal with the clearing-up involved, and to that end the rest of the remaining staff, even the butler much to his indignation, had been dispatched to the scene of the crime with orders to dispose of the debris.

William was sitting at his desk but staring across the room into the fire burning in the basket grate, and although he smiled at her entrance it was forced. Before she could speak, he said, ‘I have been thinking, Rose. Is it possible that this fellow you told us about could be responsible for the wilful destruction of the rose garden?’

‘I’m sure of it.’ She sat down, and then told him about the dead rose petals she had received. ‘I think it is his way of telling me he’s still somewhere close.’

‘You should have told me before.’

‘I didn’t want to worry you, and after all what are a few petals – but this, this is different.’

‘Does Alexander know about the envelopes you received?’

‘No, and I don’t want him to, or to learn about the rose garden either. He has enough to worry about.’

‘I agree, and I would prefer your mother-in-law to be kept in ignorance about the envelopes too. She’s very distressed about the rose garden as it is.’

‘I’m sorry.’ She had brought this upon them, she told herself wretchedly. She should never have married Alexander. She was putting them all in danger. ‘This is all my fault. I should leave and go away somewhere.’