Chapter Eleven
The summer remained a good time for Fiona, with her garden to quell her anxieties, keep her busy and provide a luscious place to spend a private afternoon with Joshua. It made the estate almost tolerable. Only when there were gray days, and the rain pelted the ground was she unhappy. Even then, Fiona would sometimes slip off to the secluded spot; Joshua more than once found his wife coming in the house dripping wet, after she’d spent a hour or two letting the cool summer rain douse her.
“You’re foolish girl,” he said in a distinct warning tone, listening to her sneeze after one such excursion.
“I’m perfectly all right,” she vowed to him. “If I don’t have my garden for a day, I’ll surly die here.”
“What will we do with you in winter?” Joshua wondered aloud, even as he
