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She laughed. “This is not to be a learning excursion today. It is to be a day of walking and breathing the fresh country air.”

“Nothing could be better. The air of London makes me miss the bracing air aboard ship.”

“You are retiring from the navy?” Mr. Marfleet asked.

Captain Forrester was not in uniform but looked very handsome nonetheless in a dark blue cutaway coat and buckskin breeches with top boots. “Yes. I have collected enough prize money from the privateers we’ve captured to be able to buy some property and become a gentleman of leisure the rest of my days.”

“Perhaps you should learn a bit about botany if you plan to farm your estate,” Jessamine said.

Captain Forrester chuckled. “Yes, perhaps you are right, especially considering I have never lived in the country. I must be attentive and follow you about, Mr. Marfleet, like an obedient pupil.”

“How is it that you met Miss Phillips’s brother?” Mr. Marfleet asked.

The captain settled himself comfortably against the velvet squabs to recount the story. It was a well-sprung coach and the day was very pleasant, so they waited eagerly.

“I ran away to sea when I was twelve. I was an orphan in Portsmouth and escaped one day when I couldn’t bear life in an orphanage anymore. It was that or be sent to the workhouse anyway.

“I met Rees Phillips on my first ship, a frigate patrolling the coast of France to enforce the blockade. Rees was an ensign by then and I but a ship’s boy. He took me under his wing, you could say, and I quickly took to the life aboard ship.” His demeanor sobered slightly. “Our ship was sunk just off the coast of Brittany
by a French privateer. I would have drowned if not for Rees. But we both ended up in a French prison.”

They listened spellbound as he narrated this adventure. “I wouldn’t have survived the French prison if it hadn’t been for Rees. He always encouraged me to hope. His faith in God was unshakable. When there was virtually no hope left, his faith sustained him—and me. He taught me to pray not based on my feelings but based on God’s Scriptures.” Captain Forrester grinned. “Thankfully, he had spent a lot of time reading the Scriptures when the rest of the crew would spend their free hours on board and in port drinking, gaming—and”—he reddened with an apologetic look at the ladies—“seeking other diversions. When we were imprisoned in our cell, with no Bible, much less the diversions we’d sought, he knew so many Scriptures from memory he was able to call them to mind. Every time he prayed, I came away feeling fortified because it was as if I’d heard directly from God.”

Jessamine swallowed a lump in her throat. All he said about Rees brought him so forcefully to mind—and the reasons she’d loved him so and had dreamed of a life with him. Would she ever meet such a man again? She shook away the yearning, reminding herself she would not risk her heart again.

Captain Forrester continued. “The strangest thing was that his prayers were answered. I’d grown up in the orphanage and come to hate the hypocrisy of so-called Christians. We were force-fed the gospel and treated so cruelly by those who had oversight over us that I wanted nothing to do with the church when I escaped the orphanage.

“But in Rees Phillips I met a truly godly man. He never preached to me when he knew me aboard ship. But once we were in a tight spot, in the French jail, his faith shone through. It was no more than a year and a half later that we were released and repatriated during the Peace of Amiens in ’02.

“Rees left the navy then because his family needed him at home,”
he said with a glance at Megan, “but I signed on again, having little prospects on land but plenty of opportunities at sea as long as we were once more at war.” He heaved a sigh. “The Lord has kept me whole of limb and prospered me during the last decade, though I have seen plenty of action.” His brow clouded. “And have watched many perish beside me.”

He was silent a moment, then he roused himself. “But I would prefer to hear some tales of your journey to India. Miss Phillips has been telling me you were there as a missionary.” He smiled. “I was not even aware our nation sent missionaries to so far and foreign a land. I’m as ignorant as I am on our shipments of exotic fruits and plants.”

Even though it was clear Mr. Marfleet didn’t want to make himself the center of the conversation, Captain Forrester’s questions soon brought out many an interesting adventure he had experienced. The time passed quickly, and before they knew it they had arrived at the bridge at the village of Brentford.

“Look!” Megan pointed. “That must be the new palace the king started to build at Kew.”

A white stone castle’s crenellated towers and turrets peeked above the trees on the opposite riverbank.

After paying the toll, their coach went over the arched bridge into the village of Kew until it reached the main entrance to the vast parkland.

There they descended from the barouche and Mr. Marfleet gave the coachman some instructions. “I told him to go around to the southern end of the park and wait for us there with the picnic. That will give us time to explore the park.”

They walked past the gatehouse and entered the park. Jessamine drew in a breath at the acres of sloping lawns and stands of trees. She could just make out a lake in the distance. Beautiful buildings and classical Greek temples were visible through thick foliage.

“It’s beautiful,” Megan exclaimed, turning to Mr. Marfleet. “Do you know it well?”

“I have visited several times, before I went out to India, with Dr. Banks. Most of my time has been spent in the botanical gardens and arboretum over there by Kew Palace,” he said, pointing off to his right. “If you have comfortable walking shoes, we can walk around the pleasure gardens first. There have been several landscape architects over the years, and I can point out some of the interesting features and trees. Later, if you are up to it, I can give you a tour of the botanical gardens I mentioned. You must be accompanied by a gardener to enter them, but as I am known there, I will be able to act as your guide.”

“I am sure you know as much if not more than any of their official gardeners,” Megan told him with a smile.

He gave a self-conscious shrug so Jessamine quickly said, “We have worn good walking boots, besides which we are both used to walking in the country, so your plan sounds like a fine one.”

“Show us the way, sir,” Captain Forrester said, “and we’ll follow you without complaint.”

“Very well. Shall we?” Mr. Marfleet offered her his arm. She took it, and Captain Forrester did the same for Megan. They made their way toward the lake.

Along the way Mr. Marfleet pointed out many trees of note. Jessamine was impressed that he always knew the Latin name under the Linnaean system.

“This is
Robinia pseudoacacia
or false acacia,” he told them, pointing to a tall tree. “It was introduced to Britain over a hundred years ago from the American colonies.”

The tree was covered with white hanging clusters of flowers. “It smells like orange blossoms,” Captain Forrester commented, “but much larger than the orange trees I’ve seen in Gibraltar.”

“Then it is apt that it should be beside the orangery.” Mr. Marfleet indicated the white-framed glass building beside it.

“How are all these plants watered?” the captain asked.

“With an Archimedes screw which is pulled by a horse. It pumps water to the lake and all the ponds as well. It’s not far from here and quite a marvel.”

“It sounds like an amazing piece of engineering,” Captain Forrester murmured.

Farther on, they admired a folly by the edge of the lake built by the former Princess of Wales, Augusta, mother of the present king. “It is a temple to Confucius,” Mr. Marfleet explained and pointed to a small Greek temple half hidden by the trees on a mound above the lake. “That’s the Temple of Aeolus, also commissioned by Princess Augusta. Sir William Chambers designed it. He was the chief landscaper and architect of the gardens at the time. A good portion of the lake was filled in by our present king for agricultural land. These fields you see are oat and buckwheat.”

The remaining lawns had sheep grazing over them. “He introduced the merino sheep from Spain to improve our British strain.”

“Farmer George,” Captain Forrester quipped.

“Yes, he has earned the reputation with his serious hobby of agriculture. Thanks to his patronage, botany as a field of study has flourished in the latter part of the last century and into this. It is sad that he fell ill. The queen still comes out to the palace, but she is getting older and is not as active as she used to be in oversight of the gardens.” Mr. Marfleet sighed. “The regent does not take an interest in plants and farming. If it weren’t for Sir Banks and a few other botanists, we would lose the ground we’ve gained over the last decades.”

“I suppose it’s hard for people to understand why exotic plants should matter,” Jessamine ventured, “unless you are a gardener.”

Mr. Marfleet nodded down at her. “Yes. They little appreciate how much the king has done to promote the farming of some of these exotic crops to raise the income of the British. Tea, indigo, coffee all bring in revenue to British coffers and create new millionaires every day.”

“On the backs of slaves,” she added involuntarily, accustomed to hearing her father’s views on this.

“Yes,” he agreed sadly. “But that will end someday. It must.” There was quiet conviction to his words.

They continued walking along paths that bisected lawns and wound through copses.

“How long is the garden?” Megan asked.

“Almost a mile in length. Of course, we’re traveling a longer distance since the paths are meandering. Are you getting tired?” Mr. Marfleet asked in solicitude. “There are many places we can stop and rest awhile.”

“Not at all.”

“We are almost at the end where there is a Chinese pagoda. It’s quite tall, and if you are up to it, we can climb to the top. It affords quite a view, especially with the day being so clear.”

“I would love to climb it.”

They soon arrived at the tower, which rose up from a stand of evergreen trees. Jessamine craned her neck up the red brick tower, whose octagonal sides seemed to diminish with each story. “How tall is it?”

“Ten stories.” Each story was separated by an overhanging slate eave.

As they approached it, she could smell the piney resin of the trees surrounding it. “What kind of trees are these?” she asked.

“Cedars of Lebanon.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And their official name?”

“It has not been classified separately from other cedars as yet as far as I know, only of the family
Pinaceae
, genus
Cedrus
.”

“I see,” she said meekly and followed the others as they entered the tall narrow tower.

They were breathless by the time they reached the top, but the climb was worth their while. They could see for miles around.

“That is London, is it not?” Megan pointed to the hazy distance where a denser cluster of buildings could be made out.

Jessamine leaned against the elaborate red woodwork balcony and looked over undulating green fields and woods, the curving Thames snaking through the landscape.

When they finally returned to the ground, Mr. Marfleet looked for the coachman. He found him with the barouche in a shady spot between some fields just at the edge of the park. He brought back the hamper, and they chose a nice spot on a wide swath of lawn near some thick shrubbery that afforded them privacy. They had seen other small groups of people walking about the grounds, but the park was so vast that they felt isolated from them.

“What about the coachman?” she asked.

“He is going to a local hostelry to have some lunch.”

He was mindful of others, Jessamine noted.

“I am famished,” Megan announced, peeking into the basket as soon as Mr. Marfleet had opened it.

“That’s good. I told our cook to pack a lunch for four, and I know she tends to err on the side of too much food rather than too little.”

“May I help you set things out?” she asked.

“Be my guest. I am not an expert on setting out a repast although I ate my share of meals en plein air while I was in India.”

Jessamine joined Megan as soon as he’d given her leave, and the two quickly set out all the array of foods. “Goodness, there is enough to feed a small militia here.”

Captain Forrester and Mr. Marfleet had already spread out a cloth and now took the dishes and packets of food that she and Megan handed them. “I say keep them coming, I’m as famished as you sound, Miss Phillips,” Captain Forrester joked. “I had naught but a cup of coffee before you collected me this morning.”

“May I say a blessing?” Mr. Marfleet asked when they had settled down with their portions, ranging from thick sandwiches to cooked eggs, small custards, fruit, and cheeses.

“Of course.” The captain immediately sat attentive as Jessamine and Megan bowed their heads.

“Thank You, Lord, for this bounty, not only of the food and refreshment but for allowing us to partake of this beautiful park, to enjoy Your creation. Thank You for the company. Please bless this food to our bodies’ use in the name of Your Son, Jesus. Amen.”

“Amen,” they echoed softly then dug into their food.

They didn’t speak much for a while, too hungry to talk. As their hunger was sated, Captain Forrester began to throw crumbs to nearby birds and squirrels.

Mr. Marfleet lay back and closed his eyes. Jessamine toyed with the rest of her food. She was glad she’d come. She sneaked a peek at Mr. Marfleet. He looked so relaxed in his pose. She wondered if he’d fallen asleep. He had worn his spectacles, but with his eyes closed, she noticed the length of his eyelashes. They were pale red, matching his eyebrows.

She started and looked away. It would not do to have him suddenly open his eyes and find her staring at him.

She brushed off the crumbs from her skirt and threw the remains of her bread crusts to the birds, then began to collect the things.

Megan helped her, and soon they had put everything back in the basket. Mr. Marfleet had sat up. “You should have told me. I didn’t expect you to clean everything up.”