Wanting to be certain that all was in readiness in the gardens, Anne slipped from the house alone to have one last look around before people began to arrive. As she emerged from the cool, shadowy house onto the terrace and into the comparative warmth of the garden and a flock of white pigeons fluttered from the lawn to the roof, she drew in a long breath of satisfaction. Heat already quivered like gauze above the pebbled carriage drive where sunlight dried the morning dew, and the borders were bright with new blooms. The well-scythed turf was a brilliant green, and she could hear the buzzing of bees in the limes. The front garden was neat and tidy, if not yet at its best. In another month, she knew, it would blaze with summer color. Beyond the gardens lay wilderness or woodland, composed mostly of beech and chestnut trees, and threaded by mossy paths that were presently thick with bluebells and daffodils. Anne had arranged for a children’s scavenger hunt in the woods, and other activities throughout the gardens, to keep the youngsters amused while their parents chatted and visited.
