Love-apples

‘You must have some of these sandwiches, cousin, made with Guernsey lobster. And here is a fruit as an accompaniment.’

He offered her a dish of round red fruits with rough wrinkled skins. ‘Do you know them?’

‘They are tomatoes, are they not? Yes, I enjoy the taste.’

‘Papa has some plants in his conservatory,’ Catharine said, ‘but for decoration merely. He declares they are unwholesome to eat.’

‘Then I shall not offer you any,’ said Edmund. ‘I would not tempt a daughter to transgress against parental wishes. But I will have one myself because I too enjoy the taste. I have heard them called love-apples.’

‘No, I will have one,’ Catharine said. ‘I like to try new things.’

Edmund said gravely: ‘You must not eat forbidden fruit.’

‘Must I not? I declare I shall. And there was no actual forbidding.’ She took a tomato and bit into it. ‘They are delicious, Edmund, your love-apples.’

Edmund turned to Sarnia. ‘How do you find yours?’

‘Excellent.’

‘Then I am content.’