It was not to be. Only a little while after they had received the letter, I was informed that Dr Jeffray had renewed his complaints about me and, of course, he won in the end. My appointment was to be terminated, although, mercifully, I was to be allowed a full year to make other arrangements and was also allowed to remain in possession of the land during that time. This meant that I could sell the grass and whatever else I could grow. My family would not be entirely destitute.
I think I had Thomas to thank for my year’s reprieve. He had told Faculty in no uncertain terms that if they didn’t see fit to give me time to find a new place of work and a new home for my family, he would have to consider his own position in the university. I was touched that he would put his livelihood at risk for me. But in truth, there was small risk to him in such a stand and he knew that they would never let him go. Even Jeffray had not expected this and was appalled at the thought of having to resume his botanical lectures again, when he had so much else to occupy him, so he was forced to swallow his prejudice and make some kind of grudging representation to Faculty on my behalf. Or so Thomas told me, relating the events with a kind of glee, pleased with his own machinations on my behalf. The result was that I was given my year’s grace.
‘Don’t worry, William. We’ll think of something,’ said Thomas. ‘There’s plenty of work for a man of your skills and intelligence.’
‘But not here.’
‘No. Not here, that’s for sure.’
‘They’ve said that they will let my mother and the younger ones stay on in the house for a while if need be, even after the year is over, but I shall have to make some provision for them. I need work. Real work.’
‘And what will I do without you to collect specimens for me?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘If we can find you some gardening work in the town, perhaps you could continue, and I could pay you for whatever you provide.’
‘Perhaps so.’
But I could foresee only more hard work and a neglected garden all over again. He heard the reluctance in my voice.
‘You know I would like nothing better than to work for you, all day, every day,’ I continued.
‘And you must know that I would like nothing better than to work with you. But as yet I have no proper place of my own. This is a rented house with a small patch of garden and a few miserable apple trees with codling moth at the heart of all the fruit. As the younger son I am not a rich man.’
‘Nor a poor one, either.’
He frowned. ‘Well, as it happens, I do have an idea of sorts, but I am very unsure as to how you will receive it!’
‘Tell me. What idea? I’m desperate, Thomas, and will consider anything.’
‘Oh, this is a little better than a counsel of desperation, I think. You have often heard me speak of my uncle in Ayrshire?’
‘Aye, I have.’
‘He has a large estate there. Larger than he needs. His wife died some years ago. They rattle around that cold, old house, himself and his son.’
‘And the house has a garden?’
‘More than that. It has extensive grounds. A walled garden. A park. All you could wish for. I could have a word with him. I am something of a favourite with him. He is very cautious of his own health, although he is as robust as I am, but his son, my cousin, is very sickly, a little like your wee Rab, and I do the best I can for him whenever I am there. Would you perhaps think about travelling to Ayrshire? If I could get you a position there?’
‘Of course I would. But how could I desert my mother and the boys? And it would be a long way away from Jenny.’
‘I have already thought of that. There is a great deal of land, and you would not be head gardener or not yet a while, but you would certainly have a position of some seniority, William. Coming from the college, and on my recommendation too. You see, the head gardener is knowledgeable but old and rather frail. He needs help and my uncle knows it.’
‘I would certainly go wherever there was work to be had, if only I could make some arrangements for those who depend upon me.’
‘Well, perhaps there would be a house for your family. That is what I have been thinking. I know that there are cottages on the estate. And if none was suitable, one might be built. And I would be prepared to make the request on your behalf. Would your mother be willing to move, do you think?’
‘I think she would. Needs must. Although it would be hard for her to be so far from the girls, Bessie especially.’
Jean and Susanna were both in service now. But I knew that Bessie would keep an eye on them. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea.
‘Perhaps James could work in the gardens too. Or get work on a nearby farm maybe? Or is there a home farm, perhaps? He’s strong and willing. And the wee lads would surely find seasonal work in the country.’
‘I think they would. Do you want me to ask?’
‘I’d be grateful. And will you ever be there, Thomas?’ I asked, hesitantly.
He smiled at me. ‘Aye. To be sure I will. I ride down there from time to time. If you are there, my friend, I will have even more reason to go! And I would be glad to speak to my uncle for you. He’s very careful of his own health so he is always pleased to see me. There is aye something wrong with him, be it his head, his stomach or his legs. In reality he is as strong as myself, although I could not say the same about my cousin. But my uncle is fond of his garden. Almost as fond of his green and growing things as you are, William. Although if there is a fault with the estate it is that there are by no means enough trees. I think maybe we could persuade him to plant more. Broadleaves of all kinds, some native and perhaps some more exotic specimens.’
‘I think I should like that very much. And what of Jenny?’
‘Ah, Jenny,’ he said. He paused, gazing at me with a quizzical expression. Jenny was still visiting his house often, still doing her fine sewing for the family. ‘I suppose you have some thoughts of marrying your Jenny?’
‘Some day. But if I wait as long as I may have to, I’ll be too old to enjoy my wedding night!’
‘Oh, William, we can’t have that, can we?’
‘I’m powerless to remedy it.’
‘Well, it might be arranged.’
‘How? I would be an under-gardener with no resources and a family to support.’
‘You cannot waste your whole youth supporting your family, William. The sacrifice is too great. I won’t let you do it.’
‘I don’t see how you can prevent it!’
‘Listen to me. The older children are almost self sufficient. There is no reason why, once you are established in Ayrshire, you should not marry your Jenny – if her father will spare her – and bring her down to keep house for you. Your mother is fond of the lass.’
‘She is. But two women in charge of one house?’
‘Although you may not want to admit as much – forgive me – your mother is no longer young and will not always be there. And who knows? Maybe we could persuade my uncle to find two cottages instead of one. In fact, I have in mind two wee houses that stand side by side, a little tumbledown and battered by the elements to be sure, but not beyond rescue by a strong young man such as yourself. And your brothers would help. There will be plenty of work at the big house for a young woman with Jenny’s talents. Although we will be very sorry to lose her here in Glasgow. Very sorry indeed. But of course the connection will not be broken. No, it will never be broken. For I am in the habit of visiting the house often.’
* * *
It all seemed possible when he outlined it to me. Not just possible, but desirable. Those big lowland estates were in the nature of villages. Even when the families who owned them were as small as was this one, consisting of a widowed man and his ailing son, they would offer shelter to a large household of servants, with a few poor relations thrown in for good measure. There were usually many cottages that had sprung up around the central house like so many mushrooms at the foot of some venerable tree. Tumbledown and damp and uncomfortable most of them were, to be sure, unless there was some enlightened landowner with an interest in building. But a deal of work would remedy matters and the house we had lived in for so many years was no palace either.
I began to feel that the future was looking quite rosy. Jenny and I had an understanding. Her father approved of me and thought that the college had treated me shabbily. Besides that, I knew that Jenny’s father was now openly courting his neighbour Nancy and had even tentatively spoken of marriage. It occurred to me that it might suit him well enough to have at least one of his daughters off his hands. Anna was on good terms with the potential new Mistress Caddas (after all, she had spent enough time in her house) and could stay at home until she too found herself a husband or began to work at the weaving in good earnest. I think she was already a great help to her father and undertook much of the spinning that he had once put out to women in the village.
‘What’s for you won’t go by you,’ my mother always said, and I began to think that it might be true. I would miss Thomas if I did not see him almost every day, but even that ache would be tempered by the anticipation of seeing him whenever he came down to Ayrshire. He had intimated that we might be able to study together. That I would continue to have access to the library at the big house whenever I wished. Thomas’s uncle liked his outdoor pursuits, his hunting and fishing. He himself had small use for books, but Thomas had told me that the library was a fine one, much better than his own, full of historical curiosities and rare books, and he promised to beg permission for me to have the use of it whenever I wanted.
Even now, I sometimes find myself imagining that bright future as it might have been, wondering if I would have been as happy in the countryside as I had believed I could be. I think it might have been possible. Our dreams and plans were ambitious enough.
‘Maybe one day my uncle will give me full control over the gardens,’ said Thomas. ‘In which case, we could plant a great many new trees.’
‘An avenue of limes. Loud with bees. Can you picture it, Thomas?’
‘And bee boles in all the walls for your Jenny. She would keep the bees happy, would she not?’
‘So that the fruit trees and the grape vines would all bear fruit.’
‘We might even travel, you know. To the Americas, to Africa. To Asia and beyond.’
‘I don’t think Jenny would approve of that.’
‘Nor would Marion. But who can say what the future might hold? And if we must stay here in Scotland then we could at least make the best of a new garden.’
‘I think you once told me they grew pineapples there?’
‘Oh aye, they do. There is a big orangery which serves as well for pineapples. And an old walled garden which is very sheltered. The climate is mild down there, milder than here.’
Then I’ll grow pineapples for you. In memory of my father. Oranges perhaps. Peaches too. And plums and cherries. With pears and apples layered against the walls.’
‘Blossoms in spring, fruit for winter. I fancy that one could even grow the tree fern there. And I have some idea of planting the Eucalypt if we can get it. Joseph Banks brought the first specimens back from Botany Bay. I have seen pictures only, but it seems to me that they grow like so many silver towers. If we can get them and nurture them, they will long outlast you and me. And you know that our wee Arran tree thrives there yet.’
‘Ah, Thomas, we could plant trees like weans and watch them grow.’
‘Trees like weans and watch them grow. Why not, William, why not?’
It was a fine plan. The thought of it, of all that we could have accomplished, still burns into me sometimes, a regret for all these unrealised schemes. He was such a hero to me at that time. But idols sometimes prove to have feet of clay. Oh men should not be worshipped, nor women either. They should be regarded only for what they are and trusted where trust is due. One should never expect too much. Expect no heroes, nor heroines. Life has taught me that truth, if nothing else. Love others. Do right by them as far as you possibly can. But never give all the heart recklessly. And never expect too much of any man.