Page 73 of The Queen of Roses

Piccadilly, London

Dear Sir,

I would like to place an order for the following books to be sent to me at my home at the Gables, South Orange Grove Boulevard in Pasadena, California, in the United States of America.

Some English Gardens by Gertrude Jekyll

Roses for English Gardens by Gertrude Jekyll

Home and Garden by Gertrude Jekyll

The Art and Craft of Garden Making by Thomas Hayton Mawson

Yours respectfully,

Mrs. Guy Whitley

November 20, 1906

Oleander House, Pasadena

Dear Mrs. Whitley,

I should be delighted to assist you as you plan to create your new garden. Why don’t you and your charming cousin come to tea next Tuesday and we can discuss the matter further?

Yours respectfully,

Ellen Barnes

chapter twenty-seven ADELE

November 1906

When the day came for Adele to call on Mrs. Barnes to discuss her garden, she found herself standing at the foot of her stairs waiting for Margot as the burr walnut Tompion grandfather clock she’d purchased on her honeymoon chimed the very hour they were meant to be knocking on Mrs. Barnes’s door. She frowned. It wasn’t like her cousin to be late.

Gathering up her pistachio-colored skirts, she mounted the burgundy carpeted stairs to go in search of Margot.

She reached the top just as James was closing the door of Margot’s room softly behind him.

“Is Margot well?” Adele asked.

Although he smiled, there was weariness in James’s expression. “It is good of you to ask. She is feeling a little under the weather. I suspect the heat from yesterday’s ride was too much for her.”

Adele’s frown deepened. The day before had been pleasant, with a slight breeze cooling the air and ensuring that dew still clung to the ends of leaves as Guy, fulfilling his promise to turn his attention to their guests, had taken James and Margot on one of the Arroyo Seco bridle paths before he went to the Colorado Grand that morning. Adele had seen them off from the Gables’s stable, admiring how pretty her cousin looked on her borrowed side saddle, the sweep of Margot’s light blue skirt falling around her.

With the house empty for the first time in weeks, Adele had retreated to the morning room to answer the correspondence that had built up in the week before the Colorado Grand’s ball, stopping only when the party returned. Margot, helped by Guy, had shown her the many wildflowers she had gathered, and James had expounded on the beauty of the land they’d ridden through. Even Guy had worn a broad smile, declaring that nothing was better for the soul than a blue sky and clean, fresh air.

It had been a good morning, yet not long after Guy had left, Margot had begun to look pale and complain of tiredness. She had begged off luncheon, and that evening Adele had sent Mrs. Jarrett up with a tray so that her cousin could have a simple supper while Adele, Guy, and James attended a chamber music concert at the home of friends.

“Is there anything that would make her feel more comfortable? I can ask Mrs. Jarrett for tea,” Adele said.

James shook his head. “She told me that all she wants is rest.” Then, as though noticing her hat, gloves, and light duster for the first time, he added, “You look as though you are dressed to go calling.”

“Margot and I were meant to go to Mrs. Barnes’s home for tea,” she said.

“Goodness. She must have forgotten.”

She waved a gloved hand to dismiss his concern. “If she is feeling unwell, her social obligations should be the least of her worries. Margot has always been of a delicate constitution.”