Even after everything that had happened, I still felt faintly ridiculous as I wrapped my hands around the mystery herb, running my fingers lightly over the feathery leaves and clusters of tiny white flowers, waiting patiently for it to politely introduce itself. It was all pointless, there was no way—
‘Yarrow,’ I exclaimed with alarming certainty. I picked off one of the flowerheads and rolled it in between my fingers, breathing in its gentle scent. ‘It enhances courage and self-belief and removes fear.’
‘Anything else?’
‘You can use it to dress wounds,’ I said slowly, as though turning a page in my head. ‘To improve focus and enhance restful sleep. It’s also used in love potions but you’d need to combine it with other ingredients for that to work.’
The fragrance of the yarrow flower fired up my neural pathways, my anxieties fading away and leaving nothing but a razor-sharp sense of clarity. When I looked over at my grandmother she was smiling.
‘That’s correct.’
‘As soon as it touched my skin, I just knew,’ I told her, my words bubbling over with excitement as I explained, as much to myself as to Catherine. ‘Like, sure, it’s yarrow, how could I not know?’
‘Because you were born knowing,’ she said, her face so full of love. ‘My wonderful girl.’
Catherine didn’t look as much like my dad as Ashleydid, I figured they both took after their father, but when she looked at me with pride in her eyes, I could see him smiling back at me. Pushing the heavier emotions away, I reached for the next plant. It was similar to the yarrow, leafy and small, only its flowers were yellow instead of white.
‘This one is rue,’ I said, stroking a leaf as it told me its story. ‘Used for protection, to ward off harm that might come to us, but also to attract good people, people who are meant to be in our lives.’
‘And one of the herbs the first Emma Catherine Bell held dearest.’ Catherine plucked a single petal from the plant and pressed it firmly between her thumb and forefinger, a delicate fragrance filling the air. ‘Prepared correctly, it can help with a number of digestive problems. It can also be of assistance with many women’s health issues.’
‘What happens if it’s prepared incorrectly?’
Her eyes flashed, sharp and bright.
‘A knife can be a tool or a weapon. Never forget that.’
It was exhilarating, unlocking all this information, and I felt renewed, like someone had changed my batteries when I didn’t know they were running out. I ran my hands lightly over the leaves and flowers of the other plants, all of their names and properties dancing around inside my head. Bay leaves for prophetic dreams, sage for healing, rosemary …
‘… for remembrance,’ I finished out loud, hovering over the unassuming herb. ‘Rosemary helps you remember forgotten things.’
‘It can,’ Catherine agreed absently, her attention focused on collecting more plants to add to the tray. ‘If prepared correctly and ingested.’
Or when used as decoration in an Arnold Palmer or added to a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie. The visions of myparents flashed in front of me; visiting in the Powells’ parlour, talking together in the library.
‘What can you tell me about the others?’ Catherine asked. ‘Which herbs are you drawn to?’
‘Um, let me look,’ I muttered, reluctantly pushing the past out of my mind to concentrate on the present. Belladonna, basil, verbena, henbane, lady’s mantle …
‘Aconite,’ I sputtered, yanking my hand back from a beautiful blue flower. ‘This is poisonous.’
‘Not to you or me.’
My grandmother lovingly caressed the petals, her fingers flushing red then fading back to a calm, unblemished pink.
‘You’re a natural apothecary,’ she said. ‘Just like the first Emma Catherine Bell. I have studied for years just to attain a fraction of the knowledge that is instinctive to you. Ashley and I follow the recipes handed down through the generations but a natural herbalist like you will be able to work miracles with what we have here. Emily, it’s such a wonderful gift.’
Recipes handed down through generations … I scoured my new knowledge, pairing the ingredients to everything I’d consumed at Bell House. At least half the herbs in the garden had found their way into my food and drink, yarrow to help me sleep, chamomile to calm me down, valerian to soothe my nerves and ease my grief. I felt like Alice down the rabbit hole, nibbling on mushrooms and drinking from unknown bottles. Only Alice knew what she was doing. Alice made her own choices.
‘All the tea, all the food, everything Ashley makes,’ I spoke slowly, not wanting it to be true. ‘It’s all drugged.’
‘Drugged?’ Catherine echoed with a derisive chuckle. ‘Emily, all your meals have been carefully prepared to help you rest
and recover. Ashley only uses natural and organic ingredients and what we grow here is a darn sight cheaper than it would be from that fancy health food place off the parkway.’
It wasn’t exactly a denial but I didn’t believe she was trying to hurt me. Ashley on the other hand …
‘If I’m an apothecary,’ I said, fingering the rosemary bush and breathing in its powerful scent, ‘what kind of witch are you?’
