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SUDDENLY, Caroline felt she could hear Luke’s voice, giving his opinion on this place. Hathern’s, even if his business depended on it, would never advocate a garden planned like this.

“I no longer hear the cascade,” Caroline noted as, finally, she and Albert climbed back to the villa.

Albert crossed the path to peer at a pond.

“The water runs but sluggish here, miss. I believe it may be blocked.”

Caroline thought she might mention this problem to Mr Kellard, but she didn’t have to. When they re-entered the portico, he openly lamented difficulties he’d always had with (as he grandly put it) the lake.

“I will ask Fabio’s help on your behalf,” Caroline said, watching interest light up Kellard’s face. “He has a gift for solving practical problems.”

She had long ago learned that, when someone thought only of himself, it was foolish to steer the conversation towards any other topic.

She was also determined to gain Mr Kellard’s co-operation in the matter of returning the seeds. Perhaps offering help, and with a generosity which Kellard himself lacked, might unlock a response.

“Thank you, my dear Miss Waters.” For once, Caroline thought she saw a genuine smile on Mr Kellard’s face.

“I have also brought you a gift,” she added, seizing the moment.

With a charming gesture, she offered the small package that Albert had carried since they arrived.

It was only another in the series of Flower of Hope paintings, but Caroline had made sure it was a good one.

Mr Kellard held the picture to the light.

“This is from life?” he asked in wonder.

“The mountainside, the waterfall? Yes, that was the true setting.”

“You saw it!”

“I was part of that expedition, Mr Kellard.”

His mouth tightened.

“Had I known the seeds had been obtained from a lady, I would have returned them immediately,” he muttered.

Kellard sounded annoyed, as if he’d caught himself behaving inexcusably.

Caroline swallowed. She would not remind him that he’d stolen, rather than “obtained”, those seeds.

“May I ask about the seeds?”

“London will never appreciate your talent,” Kellard interrupted, grasping her painting. His voice rose, overriding hers. “I want you to stay and work only for me. I am known as an excellent employer!”

“I paint only flowers and fruit in their natural surroundings.” Caroline spoke as if she truly regretted having to say it.

“A pity my gardens aren’t a good enough setting, then,” Kellard said coldly.

There was an awkward silence which Caroline did nothing to break.

“I suppose you’ll be leaving soon, returning to London and your dear Mr Hathern?” Kellard added.

“He is my employer,” Caroline replied, her voice steady.

She was suddenly very glad of Albert’s presence just behind her.

Kellard’s expression hardened.

“Let us agree to end this unpleasant battle of wills, Miss Waters. You have rejected my offer. I, on the other hand, have generously decided to return some seeds.”

He reached an inner door and paused.

“Where will these flowers flourish best, I wonder? In London or Florence?” he called over his shoulder.

As he stalked off, his very back reproached her.

“Such drama!” Caroline murmured wryly.

“No call for that sort of carry-on,” Albert agreed. “But you have your seeds, miss. Here comes his servant now.”

Alison Cook

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