The Restoration Garden: A Novel - 11

Irene

The dry heat carried through the summer at Havenworth, but the mood remained as dour as it had been on the day of Michael’s funeral. Father threw himself even deeper into his work, while Lady Montgomery traipsed about like a ghost with red-rimmed eyes. But the worst was Margaret. My spirited younger sister no longer ran wild through the grounds on adventures concocted by her boundless imagination. She was consumed by real fears.

Her cough had returned, too.

I tried not to worry, since the one thing I knew for certain about my stepmother was that she would ensure Margaret received the best possible care, but it was difficult to ignore her wheezing and the way her clothes hung loose on her skinny shoulders.

The gardens had suffered, too. Half the parterre had already been destroyed by the Land Army, replaced with square vegetable patches. I’d been working to save what I could of the irreplaceable peonies and irises and other precious species being ripped out, but it was too much for one person. What was left of the flower gardens required daily irrigation. Lately, I’d been spending the mornings helping Paul with the tedious task, transporting watering cans all over the gardens.

Today was no different. I no longer had to manage Charlie and Margaret’s schooling, since Lady Montgomery insisted they would return to their former selves with a summer break, so laboring alongside Paul was the best way to calm my nerves and pass the time until the afternoon, when James was coming to pick me up. He had made arrangements to borrow a car so that we could go on a proper date. We were set to visit the Cambridge University Botanical Gardens followed by a trip to the cinema.

I’d just finished putting away the watering cans in the greenhouse when I saw the Land Army girls sauntering down the path toward Havenworth in their green sweaters, laughing about something I couldn’t make out. They kept to themselves for the most part, but they’d been around long enough that I knew their schedule. It must be nearing five o’clock in the evening if they were done with their shift.

James was meant to pick me up at six. I cursed myself for losing track of time. I still needed to bathe and pick out an outfit and do a million other things before he arrived.

I had just finished the quickest bath of my life when I found Margaret sitting on top of the blue frock I had laid out on my bed.

“Be careful with that,” I said sternly. “I don’t want the skirt to wrinkle.”

She scooted over but crossed her arms so I would know she didn’t appreciate it. “Why do you care if it’s wrinkled? It’s not like anyone here is looking at your clothes.”

“Because I’m not wearing it for anyone here. I’m going on a date.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “With James?”

I sat down at my vanity and ran a brush through my hair. “Yes. With James.”

She harrumphed, an exaggerated sound that might have been comical had there not been such purple shadows beneath her eyes. “I don’t like him.”

“You don’t know him.”

“I don’t want to know him.”

“Then it’s a good thing you aren’t the one going on a date with him.” I opened the glass jar of perfume I’d made by infusing vodka from Father’s liquor cabinet with crushed rose petals from the garden, and dabbed a light amount against my wrists. In the absence of real perfume, I’d come to prefer my homemade concoction. The smell, so pure and fresh, reminded me of my mother.

“Where’s he taking you?”

“To the cinema.” I didn’t know what film was playing, but I hoped it would be a comedy. I wanted to laugh and be entertained.

Margaret opened her mouth to say something, but only a cough came out. Within seconds, she was overtaken by a fit of coughing that turned her cheeks bright red.

I ran to her. “Are you all right?”

She nodded when the fit finally subsided. “I’m fine,” she insisted with no small amount of annoyance.

I pressed my hand to her forehead. She didn’t feel clammy or particularly hot.

“I’d like to go to the cinema one day. Will you tell me what it’s like?”

“Of course I will. But you’ll get to go when you’re old enough.”

She feigned a retch, showing signs of the vibrant girl she used to be. “I don’t want to go on a date.”

“You don’t ever have to go on a date if you don’t want to. I’ll take you one day.”

“You will?”

I put my arm around her narrow shoulders. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You must know that.”

She nodded solemnly. “Fine. Then I suppose you can go with James tonight so you can be prepared for when you take me.”

“How generous of you,” I teased before shooing her out of my room so I could change in peace.

By some miracle, I managed to have myself completely coiffed and ready with minutes to spare. I decided to wait outside, knowing the sight of James might dredge up painful memories of Michael for Lady Montgomery.

Nearly half an hour passed before I began to worry something had gone wrong. I popped inside briefly and asked Annie whether anyone had called, then returned to the stoop. Surely James hadn’t forgotten about me? But when another hour passed with no sign of him, and then another, I had no choice but to admit the truth.

James wasn’t coming.

Margaret was in my room when I woke the next morning, sitting on the edge of my bed in her pale-white nightgown.

I perched up on one elbow and rubbed my eyes. “What are you doing? It’s barely six o’clock.”

She had always been an early riser—springing from her bed with too much energy for a single earthly being—but we had struck a truce years ago in which she would allow me to sleep until a reasonable hour and I, in turn, wouldn’t tie her pigtails to her bedpost.

“I’m here to warn you,” she said in an exaggerated whisper.

I moaned, in no mood for her wild beliefs and exaggerated stories. I’d slept terribly, unable to stop thoughts of James from creeping in every time I closed my eyes. Had he forgotten about me? Or had something even worse happened to keep him away? “About what?”

“Daddy’s furious.”

That knocked the sleepiness out of my body. I sat up straighter, staring at her intently. “Why?”

She shrugged. “I tried to hear what he and Mummy were saying, but Annie caught me listening through the door and sent me away. I think it’s because of you.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” I said, trying to convince myself as much as Margaret. “They’re always mad at me for something.”

I sent Margaret off so that I could get ready for the day, determined to be dressed up to face my inevitable dressing down. My appearance was my only armor, feeble as it was, so I selected my favorite blue shirtdress and brushed my hair into a neat chignon.

Father was in the dining room with Lady Montgomery when I came downstairs—an uncommon occurrence, even for a Sunday. But what truly set me on edge was the way he looked up from his newspaper to acknowledge me as I approached. It made me wonder whether Margaret had been right after all.

“Irene, have a seat,” Father said impassively, setting his newspaper down.

“We’ve saved some of the strawberry preserves for you,” Lady Montgomery said with a false cheeriness. “I know it’s your favorite.”

I glanced at the array of scones and preserves, more confused than ever. We hadn’t had anything but simple toast and eggs for breakfast in months. Why would they have asked Ruth to cook something special this morning if I were in trouble?

Lady Montgomery smiled stiffly as I sat down and filled my plate. I eyed her curiously for a moment before asking, “How are you this morning, Father?”

“Tired,” he said in his overly frank way.

“Is that because of your work?” I asked.

He exhaled heavily through his nose. “It’s because of a phone call I received late last night from Edward Howell.”

My stomach clenched, the bite of toast I’d just taken turning sour. “What phone call?”

He looked to Lady Montgomery, a secret conversation happening between them. Finally, Lady Montgomery nodded.

“James Atherton was arrested last night,” Father said.

I dropped my fork, letting it clatter against the porcelain plate. “What?”

“His name was among those listed as belonging to a secret fascist sympathizer group. The military intelligence service subsequently raided his quarters and discovered he’d stolen classified information regarding the RAF’s offensive operations.”

My head spun as I tried to process Father’s revelation. James couldn’t be a fascist. There had to be some kind of mistake. “Is he okay?”

Father’s lips hardened into a straight line. “He was released this morning. The charges were dropped, no doubt thanks to the influence of his family’s connections.”

I set my hands on the edge of the table and released a heavy breath. “Thank goodness.”

“Irene,” Father said with enough force to make me look up once more. “I don’t think you understand the gravity of this situation. This boy you’ve been seeing is a Nazi sympathizer—”

“That’s not true!” I shouted. Father shot me a look that made my blood chill. I forced myself to calm down and said, “James isn’t a Nazi sympathizer. He’s interested in ideas and debate and hearing all sides of the issues. There’s nothing illegal about that. Besides, if the charges were dropped, then surely he isn’t guilty of anything.”

“There is no debate!” Father bellowed. “What is wrong with you that you do not understand this?”

I flinched, a rush of tears stinging my eyelids. “He was Michael’s friend.”

In desperation, I turned to Lady Montgomery for support. Instead, she offered only a pitying look. “People like James can be incredibly charming and convincing. We aren’t blaming you for being ensnared by him. But think about the gifts and—”

“Don’t,” I said. “You promised you wouldn’t say anything.”

Her frown deepened. “I’m sorry, Irene. But I can’t keep that promise in light of the circumstances. He gave you contraband German goods. No one acquires those kinds of items through legitimate means. You need to accept the facts in front of you. That boy may have been Michael’s friend, but anyone can make an error in judgment. Even you. I’m afraid we have no choice but to forbid you from seeing James again.”

“What? No! Please, Father. You can’t do that.”

Father shook his head. “It’s for your own good. One day you’ll understand.”

I bit back the molten anger burning inside me, desperately clinging to my composure. But I couldn’t accept Father’s orders. “And if I refuse to listen?”

His eyes narrowed. “Then you will no longer be welcome in this home or this family again.” The coldness in his voice was unlike anything I’d witnessed before. I knew without a doubt that he was serious. If I attempted to see James again, I would be disowned.

I excused myself from breakfast and locked myself in my room for the rest of the morning, finally letting the torrent of anger and frustration spill out with the tears I shed into my pillow. Father didn’t come to check on me, but Lady Montgomery did. She knocked softly at first, then more forcefully when I didn’t answer. “Irene, I know you’re upset, but you must understand your father and I are only acting out of concern for you.”

Her attempt at consolation made me want to scream. I buried my face in the pillow, damp from tears. Her desire to talk with me was clearly as feeble as my interest in listening, and the echo of her footsteps disappearing down the hall came moments later. Margaret turned out to be harder to ignore when she pounded on my door, complaining of boredom. It took over fifteen minutes for her to give up, and even then she returned a few times over the morning to try again, until Lady Montgomery rounded her and Charlie up for church.

I finally emerged from my bedroom when the house was empty. It was unusual that I found myself in such solitude at Havenworth. If I weren’t so miserable over James, I might have appreciated it. Instead, I only felt hollow. I didn’t want to believe the accusations against him. James had only ever been good and kind and honorable. But there was a whisper of worry deep inside me. What if Father was right?

The telephone in the main floor hallway rang as I passed by on my way to the gardens. I considered letting it go unanswered. But the telephone rarely rang these days, and when it did, it was almost always for something direly important.

“Hello?”

“Irene? Thank god.” James’s voice came through the line. “I’ve been worried sick about you all night.”

“My father told me you were arrested.”

He exhaled heavily. “I’m so sorry you had to find out that way. I wanted to explain everything to you myself. It was all a terrible mistake.”

“They said you had classified documents in your possession.”

“I did, but not for any malicious reason. There’s a perfectly good explanation.”

I held my breath as I waited for him to continue.

“Since my release from the hospital, the RAF reassigned me to the operations team. My role was to maintain contact with the Observer Corps along the coast to warn of any incoming raids. It’s not where I wanted to be. I wanted to be back in the air, doing my duty, but they refused to clear me for that. Every night I watched as we sent our men out on increasingly dangerous missions, knowing we’re completely outmatched. Michael isn’t the only good man we’ve lost.” He paused for a moment. “Lately, there’s been talk among the commanders that the Germans were going to go on the offensive. We were all working around the clock, desperately trying to anticipate any future attacks. One night, I took the maps of our radar stations to compare with the key targets of interest to the Luftwaffe so that I could work through the evening. That was the night I was raided. It was all a simple misunderstanding. Once they realized my intentions, they released me.”

I swallowed hard, wanting to believe him. But I needed to know for sure. “My father said you were released because of your wealth and connections.”

James laughed bitterly. “I suppose that’s true. If it weren’t for my uncle intervening, I would still be in jail, awaiting my chance to defend myself. But that doesn’t make the outcome any different. I was innocent. That’s why I was released.”

Relief settled over me like falling snow. It all made perfect sense now that he’d explained it. I cradled the phone against my face, wishing it were his hand caressing me instead of the cold brass. “Are you okay, though? Were the police terrible to you?”

“It wasn’t pleasant. They treated me like a criminal, denying me even the most basic dignity. I had no food or water. I wasn’t even given the chance to contact a lawyer. Thankfully, a friend at Duxford alerted my uncle to my predicament.”

“I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Irene . . . there’s something else I need to tell you.” The way he said my name—soft and gentle, drawing out the sound—made me brace myself. “I’m returning to London this weekend.”

My stomach dropped. “For how long?”

“For good. Despite my innocence, they’ve discharged me from the RAF. They’ve no use for an injured pilot whose name has been tainted by suspicion. I’ve no reason to stay here any longer.”

The ground seemed to shift beneath me. “I . . . I understand.”

“I want you to come with me,” he said quickly.

“What?”

“Come with me,” he repeated, more urgently now. “To London.”

“But . . . but where would we live?” I stuttered, my head spinning. “Father would cut me off.”

“I have more than enough money for both of us. I’ll take care of everything. I promise. We can live at my flat and you can pursue your art while I go back to work for my uncle. I can introduce you to other artists and gallery owners.”

“Live together? But what will people think? We aren’t even married.”

“We could be,” he said in a voice so quiet, I thought I had misheard. “I mean, if you would consider marrying me, that is.”

My breath caught in my throat, unable to form a coherent thought, much less an answer. Marrying James was a fantasy. A dream. But I had never contemplated it would happen so quickly.

“I can’t bear to be without you, Irene. My train leaves tomorrow at eleven o’clock. Say you’ll be there.”

I held my breath. This was everything I had ever wanted. An escape from Havenworth. A chance to pursue my dreams with the man I was falling for, fiercely and irrevocably. But if I left Havenworth, it wouldn’t just be a temporary departure. It would be forever. There would be no forgiveness from Father. No chance of ever returning.

No Margaret.

“Please, Irene. I love you.”

My heart stumbled, taking down the last of my defenses with it. “I’ll be there. I promise.”