*
At the Meadows, the gardens shimmered like a moving tapestry in the amber light. The clumps of lavender bordering the drive hummed with the murmur of bees, and the great drifts of blue delphinium glowed like cobalt against the yew hedge.
As Erin passed through a gate in the boxwood, a vision of the house and grounds as they’d once been rose before her eyes. Sylphlike women twirled in sequinned gowns as stylish men with brilliantined hair sipped champagne from slender flutes. At the edge of the terrace, a dark-eyed woman in a green dress kicked off her silver slippers and ran barefoot on the grass. Erin blinked and the vision was gone.
She entered the clinic through a side door and made her way to the staffroom. By the fireplace, a pot of orange asters heralded the end of summer. A creamy white petal from a bouquet of late-blooming roses drifted to the floor. Erin waited, but no one came to greet her. Whoever this Katherine Hartley was, she had yet to arrive.
Upstairs, Erin’s office was shrouded in darkness. She pulled up the blinds and flung open the windows. Without the buzz and chatter of the girls, the manor was oddly quiet. She ran her fingers across her mahogany desk, trying to imagine sitting there again, writing up her case notes.
Sunlight filtered through the chestnut trees, and the graceful river shone like pewter. It was a view she would sorely miss. She slipped her resignation letter under the desk blotter. First thing tomorrow, she would hand it to Niels.
As she descended the broad staircase, scattered notes from the music room drifted into the hall. Sonorous and slow, a refrain from a distant age. She followed the sounds and peeked through the gap in the door. The woman who played for the girls was seated at the piano, her fingers moving gracefully over the keys.
Without lifting her hands, she turned her head and smiled. ‘Please come in.’
Embarrassed, Erin hung back, as if she’d caught the woman in a private act. ‘I didn’t mean to disturb you.’
‘Do you know this piece? It’s one of my favourites. Beethoven’s Pastoral. The sonata, not the symphony.’ She played a few more notes, clear as drops of water from a mountain stream. ‘So fitting on a day like this, don’t you think? With the gardens awash with flowers and the lawns so deliciously green.’
Behind the piano, the tall windows framed the majestic pair of copper beeches. A blue jay splashed in the fountain and darted away.
‘When the Meadows was still a private home,’ she said, playing a few more bars, ‘this used to be the morning room. When I first came to this house as a young bride, I would get up just after dawn and run down here to look at the gardens. There were rabbits in those days, perfectly tame and white as snow, hopping about on the lawn, nibbling the grass. I was nineteen, just a girl, and thought they were enchanting.’
Erin’s palms tingled. ‘I’m sorry, but did you say you lived here?’
In a single, graceful motion, the woman rose and floated across the floor, her hand outstretched. ‘I’m Katherine Hartley. Though everyone here knows me by my maiden name, Gillman. Kay Gillman. And, yes, I used to live in this house, once upon a time. It’s a pleasure to meet you properly at last.’
Erin clasped the woman’s hand, her confusion complete. This was Katherine Hartley? So, their music teacher was, what, a member of the board? And the name, Hartley. Wasn’t there a foundation…? She gasped as it came to her. ‘You’re the anonymous benefactor.’
Katherine’s eyes were merry. ‘Is that what they call me?’ She squeezed Erin’s hand before letting it go. ‘I’m afraid I’ve given you a shock. Let’s go into the staffroom and make a pot of tea. It’s not too hot for tea, is it? We can drink it on the back terrace and revel in the view. Just like in the old days.’
Erin’s mind raced ahead as she followed Katherine into the great hall, their shoes clicking like castanets on the stone floor. The identity of the person whose money made all this possible, the first-rate medical care and the exquisite surroundings, was a carefully guarded secret. Why would she reveal herself now?
Katherine plucked a box of loose-leaf tea from the back of the cupboard and filled the kettle with water.
Erin shook herself awake. ‘Here, let me do that.’
Katherine tossed her an amused look. ‘Don’t be silly, I’m perfectly capable of making a pot of tea. And, for what it’s worth, that’s one of the reasons I prefer to stay anonymous. I shudder at the thought of special treatment, or having anyone bow and scrape before me like I’m some kind of saint.’ She waved her hand to take in the room. ‘I married into this, and most certainly am not to the manor born.’ Her smile was infectious. ‘Truth be told, I come from the other side of the tracks, as the saying goes, and have never been a stranger to hard work.’
As the kettle boiled, Katherine arranged the tea things on a tray. A quick rummage through the cupboards turned up a box of vanilla wafers.
‘Come. The gardens await,’ she said, lifting the tray with a practised flair.
In the shade of the greened-striped awnings on the terrace, they settled into a pair of lounge chairs. The heat from the flagstones warmed Erin’s feet through the soles of her shoes. She would have liked to kick them off, but perhaps Katherine would think it impertinent if she exposed her bare feet.
