Mrs. Rose frowned. “No wonder there’s no note, Elswyth. I wouldn’t advise anyone to attach their name to this.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why, it’s a scathing rejection. And admitting an affair, to boot.”
Elswyth’s heart leapt. She jumped out of bed and ran to Mrs. Rose. “But I searched the floriography reference. It didn’t make any sense. I concluded the flowers must have been random. Rhodendron meansbeware, but acacia meansinnocent friendship—”
“This isyellowacacia.Whiteacacia meansinnocent friendship.Yellowacacia meanssecret love.”
Elswyth took the floriography guide from the desk and opened it, showing Mrs. Rose—the inside was riddled with scrawled notes, the pages ruthlessly dog-eared. “But I checked, over and over again. There was nothing about different colors of acacia.”
Mrs. Rose examined the book, flipping it closed to read the cover. “Dear, this is Whipplethorn’s guide. You simply must use DeBride’s. It’s much more comprehensive.”
“What? Are they not all the same?”
Mrs. Rose scoffed. “Eden, no, Elswyth. They couldn’t be further apart. Even Lady Green’s guide is better than Whipplethorn’s. Really, Elswyth, I went over this. It’s like you weren’t even paying attention to my lessons.”
Elswyth slowly set the book down. She hadn’t been paying much attention to Mrs. Rose’s lessons. For one thing, she never stopped talking, and for another, most of what she said was nonsense. And yet here she was, showing Elswyth that was not true.
Mrs. Rose assessed the bouquet with a practiced eye. “That looks like black dahlia. It could mean eithereleganceordignity. I can’t quite read the other flowers…”
Elswyth grabbed the bouquet from her. She poured vitæ into it, and slowly, the rotting flowers began to bloom. It was no small trick bringing a totally dead plant back to life, and by the time the bouquet was fresh again, her head swam. The bouquet exploded from ashen gray to bright color: emerald and crimson and gold.
“Can you read it now?” Elswyth said, breathless.
“Ah, yes. Here. Sweet pea, like you mentioned. It does mean goodbye, but it has secondary meanings:thank youandblissful pleasures. Almond flower, meaningstupidityorindiscretion. Rhododendron, as you said, as a warning. And hellebore, meaningscandalorcalumny. Foxglove, which meansinsincerity.” She turned the vase around and pointed to a cluster of orange flowers, just barely visible beneath the rest. “And butterfly weed. It meanslet me go.”
Elswyth stood frozen, her mind racing.What could it mean?
Mrs. Rose kept speaking, almost nonchalantly. “Yes, it’s all obvious now.Secret love. Insincerity. Stupidity. Indiscretion. Goodbye. Scandal. Dignity. Let me go.And finallyBeware, I am dangerous.Your sister was part of a clandestine affair. Her lover rebuked her with this bouquet. They had a dalliance, but his love was insincere, and he regrets it. He left her with a warning that if she were to reveal their affair, it would cause a scandal. And that she should fear him, if this were the case.”
Elswyth felt as if she could not move. She stumbled backward, grasping the chair for balance.
“Miss Elderwood! Are you all right?” Mrs. Rose said, helping her into the chair.
“She had a lover…” Elswyth said. “Persephone had a paramour. And he scorned her. Threatened her.”
“Not so surprising, perhaps. Many young people fall quickly, only to be hurt by the realities of the marriage market. Perhaps this young man was above her station.”
Elswyth looked at Mrs. Rose. “A powerful man, then?”
“It’s surely possible. I can’t say for certain. But it’s a fine vase and would have been a rather expensive custom arrangement.” Mrs. Rose looked at Elswyth, and her face grew worried. “You don’t mean to say…”
“That the man she loved had some hand in her death? That he may, in fact, be the Reaper himself?”
“You think your sister could love such a man? How could she?”
“He must hide his true nature if he moves among the nobility in secret… but we cannot be sure,” Elswyth said. “Still, there is some pattern forming. Why was Persephone in the Rows the night she was taken? Who is this mysterious lover?” Elswyth shook her head, her brow furrowing. “Does the bouquet say anything else?”
Mrs. Rose picked at it. “Well… there’s these small ones here. Black coriander. Coriander I think it means something likeconcealed meritorhidden treasures. But that doesn’t quite make sense, does it?”
Elswyth’s thoughts swarmed. “Is there anything else?”
“No… that’s the last of the flowers,” Mrs. Rose said.
“This is important,” Elswyth said, mostly to herself. “It proves she did have a lover. Perhaps Persephone threatened to expose the affair. That could have been the reason he killed her. It could mean I’m right about the Reaper being a nobleman. This could be the reason why she doesn’t fit with the rest of the Reaper’s victims. She threatened to ruin him, and he killed her.”
Mrs. Rose cleared her throat. She set down the bouquet, which had started to fade back into death. “You know, this is not what I imagined when I graduated from etiquette school. Alas.”
