“I’ve been meaning to give you this anyway. It’s a tonic that helps prevent these menstrual blockages. Essence of silphium.”
Elswyth took it; a viscous red oil shimmered within. “Two drops a day, in the morning tea. At least until we’ve found you a husband. And even afterward, if you wish to postpone motherhood for a moment.”
Elswyth blinked. “I’m surprised, Mrs. Rose, that you would want me to postpone motherhood at all. You seem like the type that would think motherhood is the greatest achievement possible for a woman.”
Mrs. Rose sighed. “I do want what’s best for you, you know. I don’t just say that. And I do think that having a husband is what’s best for you. But after that, when—or if—you become a mother should be your choice. I would like to give you options. That is all.”
Elswyth thought for a moment. Mrs. Rose continued to surprise her, and she realized that she didn’t know anything about the woman. Her eyes returned to the bouquet, where it sat on the vanity. Then she asked: “Mrs. Rose—I’ve been meaning to ask you. Did you know my sister?”
Something unreadable passed behind Mrs. Rose’s eyes. It vanished, and she was her normal cheery self again.
“Oh. Well, no, not really. Why do you ask?”
“I only supposed that if my father hired you to help me with the social season, he might have hired you to help Persephone as well.”
Mrs. Rose laughed uneasily. “Well, he did. Initially. But I’m afraid… How do I put this. I’m afraid she was quite difficult to work with. She assumed she knew everything she needed to already. And shewastalented. The diamond of the season, people claimed.” Mrs. Rose huffed as though insulted. “But no—I did not work with her long. She wrote to your father insisting she no longer needed my services, and he agreed.”
“You were let go,” Elswyth said.
“A mutual parting of the ways, dear,” Mrs. Rose said, lips pressed into a line, “as I said. Your sister could be very difficult to work with.”
“I suppose,” Elswyth said slowly. She watched Mrs. Rose’s face carefully. “And yet that must have been so troublesome. A young girl insisting she knew better than you, with all your years of experience. Being dismissed. And then to have Persephone go on and be named the diamond, after she was so rude to you.”
“I was not dismissed,” Mrs. Rose said, rather sharply. “And, not to speak ill of the dead, but clearly shedid notknow best, given the circumstances.”
Elswyth chilled. “I see.”
Mrs. Rose stood, apparently finished with the conversation. She reached across the table and took Elswyth’s plate, even though she hadn’t finished eating.
“I nearly forgot—I’ve asked Lord Devereux and Mr. Ogunlana to be your practice audience for the tableau vivant tonight. Meet in the drawing room at six—and wear the ivory silk robe à la Grecque. It will be an excellent costume.”
She stepped toward Elswyth and examined her hair. She sniffed and then made a face. “And take a bath; you smell like horses. Ta-ta!”
And with that, Mrs. Rose hurried away, leaving Elswyth fuming.
She looked again to the bouquet. So carefully coded, so exquisitely designed. One might think that someone like Mrs. Rose—a specialist in society’s elaborate rituals, like floriography—would be ideally suited to craft such a message. And if she had loathed Persephone—if her dismissal had somehow besmirched her reputation—perhaps Mrs. Rose would have had reason enough to want her sister dead. Elswyth realized that she’d made a mistake; she’d assumed that Persephone’s killer had been one of themenclosest to her.
But women—like their flowers—could be poisonous.
CHAPTER SIX
The corpse flower is the largest known species of carnivorous plant. It has no meaning in floriography, as it is generally not recommended for bouquets.
The Royal Gardens were a maze of glass and greenery. In the large atrium where Elswyth waited, she could identify dozens of species of exotic plants. Palm trees arched above her and prehistoric-looking ferns waved in the underbrush, the forest floor dotted with thousands of colorful flowers. Pools with bright orange koi lay on either side of the entrance, filled with shining coins. To her right, a dryad poured water from an amphora into a fountain. On her left, a spout erupted from an eldren’s mouth. There were eight doors in the octagonal atrium, each leading to a long corridor and the great halls that fanned out like petals from a flower. Through them she could see the shady Hall of Ferns, green and misty; a jungle landscape with multicolored birds flitting between branches; and the Hall of Orchids, where exotic flowers bloomed in the mist of waterfalls.
“Where is this blasted man?” Mrs. Rose said finally. “I allow your uncle to schedule one call, and it’s already put us fifteenminutes behind!” Elswyth did not respond. She was busy reading the placard set before a large bush—a decorative variety ofNeriumcalled the pale beauty, known for its poisonous, five-petaled flowers.
“Miss Elderwood!” a man’s voice said. Elswyth turned around to see a man walking toward her. He was short and stout, and his cheeks were red from walking quickly. He had a friendly face, round and wrinkled, with ice-blue eyes shining beneath circular spectacles. He wore a waistcoat with a high-collared shirt and matching necktie. A derby covered thinning gray hair. Everything about him seemed well-kept but without ornament. In his right hand he held an open pocket watch, and in his left a leather medical bag. He looked worried but then relieved once he saw Elswyth’s face. He snapped his pocket watch shut and dipped into a low bow.
“I must apologize for my lateness. I’m afraid a house call to a rather important patient went long. I am so glad you are still here.”
Mrs. Rose stepped in, smiling. “Dr. Gall. Or is itLordGall, as of late?”
The man smiled but dismissed the title with a wave of his hand. “I have not gotten used to all that, to be frank. I still see myself as a physician first and foremost.”
Mrs. Rose turned to Elswyth. “Miss Elderwood, allow me to introduce Dr. Oleander Gall, Queen Viscaria’s physician-in-ordinary.”
Elswyth curtsied to the appropriate depth. Dr. Gall looked bashful. “It’s not so impressive as you make it seem.”
