The doctor tapped him on the arm. ‘There’s your future,’ he said. ‘If the new parliament cares little for ornamental gardens, they care a great deal for the richness of the lands. If we are to keep the Levellers from turning us out of our own doors then we have to feed the people from the acres we have under the plough. The country has to be fed, the country has to find peace and prosperity. If you could write a pamphlet about how it could be done then Parliament would reward you.’ He hesitated. ‘And it would mean that you were seen to be working for the good of Parliament and the army and the people,’ he said. ‘No bad thing, now that your old master is gone.’

John raised an eyebrow. ‘Any news of the prince?’

‘Charles Stuart,’ Wharton corrected him gently. ‘In France, I hear. But with Cromwell in Ireland he might try a landing. He could try a landing at any time and he would always muster an army of a couple of hundred fools. There will always be fools ready to run to a royal standard.’

He paused to see if John disagreed that Charles would only be served by an army of fools. John took meticulous care to say nothing.

‘He’s called Charles Stuart now,’ Dr Wharton reminded him.

John grinned. ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘I’ll remember.’

In April John Lambert strolled into the garden with a smile for Joseph, the gardener, and a low bow for Hester.

‘General Lambert!’ she exclaimed. ‘I thought you were at Pontefract.’

‘I was,’ he said. ‘But my business there is done. I am to spend the next few months in London, staying at my father-in-law’s house with my family, so I have come to spend the fruits of victory. He only has a little garden so I must not be tempted by one of your great trees. Has Mr Tradescant anything new?’

‘Come and see,’ Hester said, and led the way out through the glass doors to the terrace and down to the garden. ‘The tulips are at their very best. We could let you have some in bud in pots. You will be missing your own at Carlton Hall.’

‘I might catch them at the end of their bloom. We have a later season in Yorkshire.’

They walked together to the front of the house and Hester paused to enjoy his delight at the sight of the tulips in bloom in the big double beds before the house.

‘Every year I catch my breath,’ he said. ‘It’s like a sea of colour.’

Hester smoothed her apron over her hips. ‘I know,’ she said contentedly.

‘And what novelties d’you have?’ John Lambert asked eagerly. ‘Anything new?’

‘A satin tulip, from Amsterdam,’ Hester said, temptingly lifting up a pot. ‘Look at the shine on it.’