‘In plants,’ she said, following his gaze. ‘And to be honest, we’re doing well enough. Sending the Members of Parliament back to their homes has done nothing but good for us. The squires and the country gentlemen have little to do but to tend their gardens. Cromwell’s major generals are running the country, there is nothing for the gentry to attend to in London, and no work for them to do in the counties. All the work of the squires and the JPs is being done by army men. All they have left is their gardens.’

John chuckled. ‘It’s an ill wind.’

‘Not so ill,’ she reminded him. ‘Cromwell has brought peace to the country.’

He nodded. ‘Have you seen Lord Lambert? What does he say?’

‘He was here just a few weeks ago to see our show of daffodils. He has a fancy for a garden in orange, gold and yellow and he wanted some bright yellow lenten lilies. He’s not a happy man. He was working on a new constitution for the country, with the backing of the army. He wanted Cromwell to become Lord Protector with an elected parliament. Then Cromwell brought in the major generals and dissolved Parliament. I think he thought that it smacked of tyranny; but he never said. He stays loyal to Cromwell –’

‘He’s always loyal,’ John interrupted.

‘But there’s a strain,’ she said. ‘He doesn’t like to see the army put over the people. He wants an elected parliament, not the rule of soldiers.’

John slid his arm around his wife’s waist. ‘And you?’ he asked gently, his lips against her clean cap. ‘Are you well?’

She nodded, saying nothing. He did not press the question. They both knew that the answer was now and would always be that she was grieving for Johnnie. They would both always be grieving for Johnnie.

‘Your friends have visited in your absence,’ she said with forced brightness. ‘Mr Ashmole and the others. Mr Ashmole has been very busy working on a catalogue of the collection as you asked him to. I think it’s nearly done. It is in Latin. He showed me some pages, it looks very fine. I think you will be pleased with it. He says we can sell the catalogue at the door to guide people around the rarities room and around the garden. And that people can take it away with them to study. Gardeners can see what we are growing and write to us with orders. He says we could charge as much as two shillings.’

‘And is Frances well?’

Hester nodded. ‘Alexander was ill this winter, a cough which wouldn’t ease. She was worried about him for a while but he is mending with the warmer weather.’

John curbed his resentment at his young daughter nursing a husband suffering from the ailments of an old man. ‘No signs of another baby?’

‘None yet,’ Hester said gently.