The Botanist’s Daughter Page 18

  ‘But I read that it can also heal. Is that possible?’

  Sofia looked at her suspiciously. ‘Only if you know what you are doing. And there are few left who do. My mother was one of the last.’

  ‘What a great shame that she did not pass on that knowledge to you. For surely it is an invaluable gift. In the right hands, of course.’

  Sofia paused before answering carefully. ‘You think she did not?’

  Chapter Thirty

  LONDON, SUMMER 2017

  Anna held her breath. She could almost hear the seconds tick by and had to sit on her hands to keep from jumping up to point out particular details to him. She wanted him to evaluate it without any influence from her.

  Ed slowly turned the pages, reaching for a pair of glasses and flicking on an anglepoise lamp to see the drawings better. ‘Extraordinary,’ he eventually muttered under his breath. He gave a long, satisfied sigh and looked up at Anna, his eyes shining.

  ‘They are rather beautiful,’ he said. ‘Exceptional even.’

  ‘I know,’ she replied, feeling a quiet thrill that her intuition had been correct. ‘How on earth did they manage such intricate detail?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, if they were in the field they would have had a small magnifying glass, but if they brought specimens indoors, then there was something called a camera lucida – a microscope with mirrors that allows you to trace the object you’re drawing. Sometimes these illustrations capture more detail than an actual camera.’ He went back to examining the drawings. ‘Quillaja,’ he muttered. ‘A foaming plant. Used for bathing.’ He turned the page to reveal a watercolour of a yellow-flowered buttercup-like plant. ‘Culen,’ he said, almost to himself. Eventually he reached the last page.

  ‘That one’s my favourite,’ said Anna, unable to help herself.

  He drew in a sharp breath, still muttering to himself. He turned towards his computer, tapped a few keys, then drummed his fingers on the desk as he waited for whatever he was searching for to load. He went back to the drawing, then picked up the phone on his desk and punched in a four-digit number. ‘Hal? Got a minute?’

  There was a pause.

  ‘Okay, after lunch. See you then.’ He put down the phone and looked at Anna. ‘If it’s all right with you, I’d like my colleague, Hal Graham, to come and take a look. He’s head of identification and naming here at Kew, as well as being a plant historian. I’ve a suspicion about some of the watercolours, but he knows more about the subject than I do.’

  ‘Okay, yes, that would be great,’ said Anna, not knowing what to make of it.

  He stood up abruptly, flicking off the light with one hand and taking off his glasses with the other, throwing them down on a pile of papers. ‘He’s not free until this afternoon. I don’t suppose you’ve had lunch, have you? If my experience with jet-lag is anything to go by, you’re probably starving.’

  She was.

  ‘Come on. Let’s grab a sandwich while we wait for him and take it outside. It’s a beautiful day and we should make the most of it. I know you probably take good weather for granted but us poor Englishmen have to take it when we find it.’

  Ed led her out of his office, reaching behind his door where a checked woollen blanket was hanging. He rolled it up and shoved it under his arm as they walked.

  They eventually emerged into the sunshine and strolled over to an expanse of lush green lawn, where he unfurled the blanket and motioned for her to sit down. ‘Be right back. Chicken okay? Or are you vegetarian?’

  ‘Chicken would be fine, and thanks.’ Anna started to pull out her wallet to give him some money, but he refused her. ‘Least I can do seeing as you’ve come all this way and brought me quite the most beautiful and fascinating thing I’ve seen in ages.’

  Anna stretched her legs out in front of her, crossing them at the ankles before leaning back on her elbows. She watched Ed lope across the lawn, headed for a cafe she could just make out in the distance. She wasn’t sure if it was his boyish enthusiasm or his charming dishevelment that was so appealing. She raised her face and closed her eyes, enjoying the sun’s warmth on her cheeks. In that moment she felt as light as a feather and positively fizzing with excitement. Her instinct about the sketchbook had been correct – it was an important find.

  Minutes later Ed returned juggling sandwiches and drinks. ‘Elderflower cordial?’ he said, offering one to her.

  ‘How very English,’ she said and felt a warm glow of pleasure as he gave a bark of laughter.

  ‘Wouldn’t dream of disappointing,’ he replied, sitting next to her.

  ‘So tell me about Sydney. I confess I have never been, but would love to go – that harbour, and the Opera House.’

  ‘Actually,’ said Anna, ‘my favourite spot is on the harbour, apart from the Botanic Gardens obviously. It’s a little park right on the water called Nielsen Park. In fact the beach is called Shark Beach, but don’t let that put you off, it’s a lovely place to swim.’

  Ed raised his eyebrows in alarm.

  ‘There’s a long, semi-circular bench seat and if you sit at one end you can whisper to a person sitting at the other, and the sound will carry along the curve of the stone.’

  ‘How charming,’ said Ed sincerely. ‘I shall have to remember that. And about the sharks.’

  When they had finished their lunch, Ed stretched out on the grass, his arms folded behind his head. ‘Sorry. Late night last night. I’m developing an app and it’s taken all of my free time for the past six months.’

  ‘Oh yes?’ said Anna, idly plucking at the grass with her hands and acutely aware of the tall, leonine man stretched out only inches away from her.

  ‘It’s a plant-identification tool – take a snap of a plant and the app will tell you what it is. Well, that’s the idea anyway. It’s proving a bit trickier than I originally thought, though most of my side of the job will be done soon.’

  ‘What a great idea,’ said Anna. ‘I often have clients asking me for a particular plant but they don’t know the name of it.’

  ‘Clients?’

  As Ed lay back, Anna told him about her gardening business, and then the story of inheriting her grandmother’s house and the discovery of the box hidden in the wall.

  ‘How extraordinary, Jenkins. I wonder how it came to be in Sydney?’ he mused.

  ‘I’ve no idea. There was also a photograph, which we think was taken in Cornwall. Somewhere called Trebithick Hall. The date on it is 1886, the year before most of the watercolours were done.’

  ‘Cornwall?’ Ed looked interested. ‘That’s where I grew up. On the Atlantic side. Trebithick Hall …’ he pondered. ‘Rings a vague bell. Certainly sounds Cornish enough.’

  He glanced at his watch and got to his feet with a groan. ‘I could sit and chat to you all day, but Hal should be free now. Let’s go and see what he says.’

  He offered Anna his hand and she took it, feeling a shock go through her at his touch. He held it a moment longer than she thought was probably necessary, then relinquished it and began to fold up the blanket while Anna gathered their sandwich wrappings and empty bottles.

  ‘Well, this is quite something, isn’t it?’ The man speaking to Anna was the one she’d nearly mistaken for Ed, and he looked if anything even more rumpled than he had that morning.

  Anna nodded.

  ‘Magnificent. So lush and vivid. A refined sense of composition and such a delicate hand. I’d like to hold onto it for a while, if I may.’ It was more a statement than a question.

  ‘Is there a reason?’ Anna asked, alarmed. She wasn’t sure she wanted to relinquish her precious find quite so readily.

  ‘Oh …’ He stopped when he came to the last page.

  ‘There’s no note on it,’ she pointed out. Where each of the preceding plants had appended comments on their medicinal qualities, this final one was left unremarked upon.

  ‘Datura,’ he said almost to himself, rubbing at the bristles on his chin with his hand. ‘But not any variety of datura
that I’ve ever seen.’ He looked up at Anna again. ‘This is most unusual. It might even be one that’s undocumented. I’ve certainly never seen anything like it alive … in the archives possibly … look, Ed, the petiole, the stripes on the petals.’ He pointed to the illustration. ‘That’s not a typical datura. Not a datura stramonium, or datura inoxia.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Ed. ‘Not jimsonweed – or thornapple as it’s also known,’ he said to Anna.

  ‘That’s one of the so-called witches’ weeds,’ Hal explained, though she knew them well enough. ‘Closely related to belladonna, henbane and mandrake. Highly toxic, though also thought by some to have aphrodisiac properties. It’s illegal to grow it in some countries.’

  Anna looked at him uncertainly. ‘You really think it’s a totally new plant? An undiscovered varietal?’

  ‘Do you know, I rather think it might be a new species of datura,’ he said, eyes gleaming behind smeared glasses. ‘Or possibly a long-extinct one; I’d have to do some more research. Ed says you’re on holiday, Miss Jenkins. How long are you here for? I’d only need it for a few days, say until after the weekend? I’d like to consult a colleague, but he’s not back until Tuesday.’

  Anna wasn’t entirely happy about leaving the sketchbook in the possession of this rumpled academic – what if he spilled his tea on it, or worse, misplaced it?

  ‘Don’t worry; I’ll take very good care of it,’ he reassured her as if reading her thoughts.

  ‘Okay, then,’ she said finally. ‘I’m not due to go to Paris until the end of next week in any case.’

  ‘Splendid!’ he said, closing the sketchbook. ‘Now, you’re coming to the Gardens’ summer party tomorrow evening?’

  Anna looked doubtfully at him. Was he inviting her? She didn’t really do parties. Had given them up, after Simon. She was about to politely decline when Hal got in ahead of her.

  ‘Do say you will. You’ll liven it up no end – it’ll be full of crusty old botanists. Present company excepted, of course.’

  ‘Well, as you’ve given it such a rap, how can I refuse?’ she replied with a smile.

  ‘Good. Ed here can escort you.’

  Anna looked at him and a traitorous blush began to creep up her neck. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel obliged to look after her. ‘No, really, I’ll be fine on my own,’ she insisted, not believing she was saying those words; she hadn’t been to a party in years, let alone on her own.

  ‘Nonsense, Jenkins,’ Ed jumped in. ‘They feed unchaperoned young women to the flesh-eating plants in the tropical house, didn’t you know?’

  ‘Oh well, then …’ She grinned at him.

  It was all settled. Anna left the sketchbook with Hal and arranged to meet Ed the following evening at seven in a pub on Kew Green.

  ‘It’s called The Botanist,’ he’d said rolling his eyes as he said the name. ‘Yes, I know.’

  The following afternoon, after a day of sightseeing, Anna arrived back in Richmond with barely enough time to shower and change, thanking her sister’s foresight in recommending that she pack at least one dress. It had thin straps and a fitted, square bodice, with a gathered skirt that fell to her knees and its periwinkle blue cotton set off her blonde hair. It was in total contrast to her normal jeans-and-T-shirt attire and she felt uncharacteristically girlish, as if she should swish her skirts about her and break into song in the manner of a 1940s movie star. She left her hair to fall loose about her shoulders and applied a sheer gloss to her lips. Her skin was tinted gold from her day’s wanderings in the sun, and her eyes sparkled with anticipation. As she looked in the mirror, she almost didn’t recognise herself.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  VALPARAISO, 1887

  ‘Señorita Elizabeth!’ Tomas’s pleasure at seeing her was evident as a huge smile spread across his face.

  Elizabeth coloured as she remembered their leave-taking at the end of the fiesta. He had escorted her back to the house, under the canopy of stars, boldly taking her hand. ‘Elizabeth, mi amor …’ he had said, bending at the waist and raising her hand to his lips. Lips that she had found herself wishing would press upon her own.

  ‘Tomas,’ she greeted him, suddenly shy.

  ‘I trust you are rested?’

  ‘Yes, thank you. My feet are a little sore however, I must admit.’

  He looked suddenly concerned.

  ‘Merely from too much unaccustomed dancing,’ she explained.

  ‘Oh well, you shall have plenty of opportunity to rest them. I cannot hear of you returning to Valparaiso until they are quite better. You must of course stay here for as long as you wish. We will have a quiet family dinner tonight and we should be delighted if you and Daisy would continue to be our guests for as long as you desire. Is that not so, Sofia?’

  His sister nodded enthusiastically, and Elizabeth smiled in return. ‘Well, I should be glad to. Sofia has shown me so many fascinating new plants this morning and I am most anxious to paint them. They are quite unlike those I have seen closer to the town.’

  ‘Then stay for two more nights,’ Tomas said, as if it were a simple decision. ‘Or longer.’

  As it happened, Elizabeth and Daisy continued to enjoy the Flores’s generous hospitality for a week. Mrs Gordon and Sibyl promised to send word back to Mrs Campbell of their extended absence. Elizabeth spent the cool of the mornings sketching and painting the various plants that grew in abundance around the estancia, occasionally sitting with Sofia. Once, Elizabeth casually brought up the subject of the Devil’s Trumpet again, but, frustratingly, Sofia would not be drawn to answer, other than to emphasise how difficult it was to find for those who did not know exactly where to look.

  In the afternoons, after a siesta, Elizabeth accompanied Tomas on horseback, exploring the hillsides as they climbed towards the high Andes. She kept a careful watch for signs of the Devil’s Trumpet, but was not rewarded with even a single sighting, which emphasised to her how extraordinarily fortunate she must have been to stumble over it in the Valley of the Palms.

  Either Daisy or Sofia usually accompanied them on their wanderings, but one afternoon Sofia had left for a nearby village and Daisy begged off with a headache.

  ‘It is just the two of us, Elizabeth,’ said Tomas as they walked to the stables, adopting his usual habit of dropping the señorita when they were alone.

  She flashed him a teasing smile in response. ‘Let us hope no one in Valparaiso should discover this.’

  ‘Indeed, that would be most unfortunate. I doubt your reputation would survive it,’ he said pretending seriousness.

  The path leading from the estancia was wide enough for the two horses to ride side by side and Elizabeth became conscious of the occasional brush of Tomas’s leg against her own as the horses jostled each other. Her heart fluttered foolishly at his nearness. As the week had progressed they had shared many conversations, and she had become even more fascinated by this man who straddled the traditional and the European worlds so effortlessly. If she had imagined herself in love with him on the morning after the fiesta, by the end of a week in his company she was certain of it.

  Tomas was the first to raise the subject. They had paused to water the horses at a stream and sat upon the bank, drinking from a wineskin and picnicking on sheep’s cheese and apples. ‘Elizabeth,’ he said, looking intently at her. ‘You must know …’ He seemed discomfited, and looked away, clearing his throat. ‘You must know by now of my feelings for you. I am unable to keep them to myself any longer. I am not certain if this is the way things should be done.’ He paused and Elizabeth noticed a faint sheen of sweat on his brow. She wanted to reach out and place a finger to it, to taste it, she realised, shocked at her brazen desires.

  She looked at him, unafraid now, a smile of encouragement on her face.

  ‘Tell me now: do you feel anything of the same?’

  ‘I might,’ she said, teasing him.

  ‘Mi amor,’ he groaned, pulling her towards him. She went willingly into his arms a
nd lifted her lips to his. For an agonising moment he did not move, their breath mingling but their lips still not meeting, then he drew her closer and there was the roughness of his skin against hers, the intimacy of his touch, a touch she had never before known. Her arms moved of their own volition and she was powerless to stop her fingers becoming entwined in his silky dark hair, her own golden locks tumbling down as he caressed her.

  After a while they pulled apart, both gasping from the joy of discovering each other, of knowing that their feelings were given and returned in full. He drew her forehead to his. ‘Mi corazon, beat of my own heart, how you have teased me, tested my patience these past few days,’ he whispered to her.

  ‘Señor, if I have teased, then it has only been in the gentlest fun. I have no wish to ever torment you,’ she said earnestly.

  As they sat, each whispering sweet words to the other, Elizabeth’s horse, which had been tethered nearby, shied up, letting out a panicked whinny. Tomas sprang to his feet and began to calm the mare, normally a docile and gentle mount. Elizabeth looked towards the mountains, which towered in the distance, their jagged peaks hazy with snowy spindrift. She gave a quick glance to the sky, which was now coloured purple. ‘Do those look like storm clouds to you?’ she said.

  ‘Si. We will not likely make it back to the estancia before it breaks. We should seek shelter. Come,’ he said decisively, reaching for her hand to help her up, ‘we must make haste.’

  Elizabeth packed their things into a saddlebag and gave Tomas her boot so he could boost her up onto the saddle. Once he too was mounted, they kicked their horses into a gallop and she followed his lead across the valley floor.

  After several minutes of hard riding Tomas pulled up his horse, indicating that Elizabeth should do the same. The sky had turned so dark it seemed as if it were twilight, but she could see a small stone hut built at the foot of the slope in front of them. Before they had time to reach the peculiar little shack, a flash of lightning illuminated the dark sky and then came an almighty crack of thunder that reverberated through her body. Jagged chunks of ice pelted them, bouncing as they hit the ground. ‘Ow!’ cried Elizabeth as they stung her body, seeming to cut through her cotton riding habit right to her tender skin. The temperature, which minutes before had been pleasantly warm, had plummeted and Elizabeth began to shiver.