The gentleman usher raised his eyebrows. ‘I should have thought it would be enough to tell him that he is wanted,’ he said rudely.

Hester bowed slightly. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘But if the king requires some plants or seeds then we need to know at once, so that we can prepare them. Or if he wants some rarities delivered …’

‘Oh,’ the man said. ‘I see. The king is buying a hunting lodge at Wimbledon for the queen. They want Mr Tradescant to design a garden.’

No trace of her relief appeared on Hester’s face. ‘I will send for him at once,’ she said. ‘He may not even have arrived at Oatlands yet. He left only this morning. I may catch him on the road, and tell him to come back.’

The gentleman usher nodded.

‘Can I offer you some refreshment?’ Hester asked. ‘A glass of wine?’

The gentleman usher shook his head. ‘I shall return to Whitehall,’ he said. ‘These are difficult times.’

‘Very difficult,’ Hester agreed with feeling. She showed him to the door and then went to the stables to find John. He was leaning against the pump in the stable yard, enjoying the early warm sunshine on his face.

‘Frances came flying out as if all the devils in hell were at the door,’ he said carelessly. ‘Why are you so fearful?’

‘I thought it might have been the press gang or the tax collectors, or a message from the court that you would be safer to miss,’ she explained. ‘I don’t know what I fear except I am uneasy, I am afraid for us. If the king’s own advisor can be on trial for his life then the king can protect no-one. Indeed, it’s the loyal servants of the king who are the most endangered. And we have been known as royal servants for two generations. I don’t want this family suddenly named as enemies of the people of England because we have taken royal gold. We all have to make our own safety in these days.’

John put his hand on her shoulder. It was his first ever gesture of affection. Hester stood very still, as if she had been approached by a wary wild animal and did not want to scare it away. She felt herself lean, very slightly, towards his caress.

‘You’re very careful for me,’ he said. ‘I appreciate it.’

She could have stood like that, in the warm sunny yard with his hand on her shoulder, forever. But John dropped his hand. ‘So who was it?’

‘It was a message from the court. The king is buying a manor at Wimbledon for the queen and they want you to design a garden.’ She paused for a moment. ‘The king’s advisor and chief minister is at bay before his enemies and on trial for his life, and yet the king has time to send to you to tell you to make a new garden.’