“Thank you.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. He stepped back, aware that she was covered in mud and dead leaves, but her affection won him over and he wound his arms around her, lifting her off the ground, breathing in the scent of damp grass that clung to her hair. “You’re a darling,” she laughed into his neck.
“You’re freezing,” he replied. “I’d like to wrap you in a blanket and give you a cup of hot chocolate.”
“Is that all?”
“For now, yes. Got to go and collect your apprentice.”
“Is this really a good idea?” she asked, pulling away. “You know I like to do the gardens on my own and Hector helps with the weeding and mowing when I need him. I don’t like to be hovered over. I’m a solitary creature. Hector and I really don’t need anyone else.”
“We’ve been through this before. Besides, it’s too late to go back on it now. We’re doing his father a great favor and besides, that’s what old Etonians do: we help one another out. After all he has done for me I’m keen to have the opportunity to pay him back. Thanks to Henri, doors have opened the entire length and breadth of France.”
“All right,” she conceded with a sigh. “But I don’t know what he expects…”
“You’re very gifted, Shrub. He’ll learn a lot from you. If he’s going to inherit the château he’s got to know about running an estate.”
“Can’t he just hire people to do it for him?”
“That’s not the point. Henri wants him out of the city and in the English countryside for a while. He’s been allowed to do as he pleases in Paris.”
“So, he’s a playboy?”
“Henri doesn’t know anyone else he can ask. He’s worried Jean-Paul will drift. He wants to inspire him. Wants him to take responsibility. One day he’ll inherit the château and vineyard. It’s a big responsibility.”
“I’m surprised he does what his father tells him. He’s not a child.”
“No, but his father holds the purse strings.”
“Is that so important? Why doesn’t he run off and do his own thing?”
“Les Lucioles is not an ordinary château. It’s magnificent. Any boy worth his salt would do all he could not to lose it.”
“I see.” She felt very unenthusiastic about it all.
“Besides, it’ll be good for the boys to have a young man about the place to rag around with. I’m an old father.”
“I keep you young,” she protested.
“That’s true,” he chuckled. “But I don’t rag around much and I don’t speak French. The children could do with a little home tuition.” Ava smiled at him sheepishly. She spoke fluent French, having been sent to finishing school in Switzerland at sixteen.
“You make me feel guilty for not having spoken French to them from birth.”
“I’d never expect that of you, Shrub. I expect you to get up in the morning, the rest is a surprise!”
She smacked him playfully. “You beast!”
“You haven’t called me that for a while.” He kissed her forehead.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She kissed him back, leaving him with a wide, loving smile.
She watched him stride back across the lawn towards the house, his shoulders hunched against the cold, his gait charmingly gangly. Then her eyes fell upon a pair of pigeons perched on the gutter just beneath the sloping roof. They were fat and contented. She felt the same. How lucky she was to have everything she could possibly want: a husband who loved her, three happy children, the most beautiful house in England, and her beloved gardens. The birds sat on the roof like icing on a delicious cake.
She cast her eyes about the garden. It was only just beginning to turn. She liked it like that. The expanse of green gave her a sense of serenity. The trees were still frothy, but their leaves were curling at the corners and some were a pretty shade of yellow. Birdsong still rang out across the lawns, punctuated by the odd cough of a pheasant and the husky coo of a pigeon. She liked the sparrows that nested under the gutters in springtime and had planted evergreen shrubs near the house to encourage other birds to make their homes there, too. In midwinter she let the ivy grow up the ash and sycamore trees so that the birds that remained could find shelter from the cold and predators. She had taught the children to nurture them. Poppy used the birdbath as a paddling pool in midsummer, but in winter she put food out, slowly taming the little creatures so that some of them ate out of her hand when Bernie and Tarquin weren’t around to frighten them away.