His eyes darted to Aurora, who was busy adjusting the pins in her long golden locks. Features squinted in concentration; it was clear she hadn't heard her name mentioned.
"I'll be honest, I don't think she likes me." His nose scrunched, disappointed at the thought.
"Who, Aurora?" Mr. Washam looked at his daughter too. "I doubt that. She can be stubborn, but she's really very kind."
"I think that I make her uncomfortable." It was awkward to admit, but nonetheless true. "She was short with me earlier, although I can't imagine what I did to deserve it."
Brows furrowed, Mr. Washam only offered a shrug; yet before he could reply, Mr. Buckley cleared his throat and announced, "shall we continue?"
After that, attention turned back to Elmore, and he didn't have the opportunity to continue his line of questioning about Aurora.
Chapter 8
Aurora Washam
Aurora stared at her notebook as she listened to Lord Winters' stories. Everyone in the room watched with rapt attention, but Aurora herself didn't miss how Lord Winters kept glancing towards her.
It was a poor attempt to impress her, Aurora rather thought. She was no more interested in Lord Winters than, say, Mr Buckley. At least, that was what she had been telling herself since they arrived at the museum.
Yet when he began talking about the angel's trumpet, Aurora leaned forward in her seat to catch a glimpse of the beautiful drawing in his book. It was as lovely as she remembered, perhaps even more so.
"It may be a stunning plant," Lord Winters was saying now, "but it's just as poisonous as any other plant I've talked about today. Even the flowers. In fact, ingestion of this plant has been known to cause hallucinations."
A whisper spread throughout the table, and even Father paused in his scribblings to glance up at Lord Winters.
"What other symptoms does such a plant have?"
"Confusion, limb tremors, the list goes on."
"And is it fatal?"
Lord Winters shook his head, and Aurora noticed for the first time that his blonde curls bounced across his forehead with the movement.
"Not always," he reassured, "and if used correctly, it can have immense healing properties — arthritic pain, mostly."
So it had anti-inflammatory properties, then? Thatdidsound mighty useful, not to mention how utterly beautiful it was. Aurora had to wonder if it was worth growing it herself, amongst all of the other healing plants that Father had. Of course, she'd have to be careful to keep it separated from the other plants, and away from curious eyes who might not know that it was dangerous.
An idea came to mind then, but the conversation had already changed. Ah, something for later, then. Anyway, this was an idea for Father's earls only.
Eventually, the meeting moved on from Lord Winters and onto other things. Mr. Buckley and his friend had visited rural Scotland on their travels and come across a rare kind of thistle. Two brothers, the two Mr. Grants, had discovered rare botany books while clearing out their late grandfather's study.
If Aurora was to be honest, it was all terribly boring. Although the men talked as if these finds were something wonderful, the only one who truly had something unique was Lord Winters.
As she had noted before, it was a lot of old men talking about nothing, and rarely was anything new or exciting ever brought to the table. In fact, the last real time of interest had been brought on by her — when Christopher had used her research as his own and shamed her into leaving the meeting part way through.
She had been quieter since then in case the men chose to bring up that day and put Aurora in her place. Mr. Buckley, especially, refused to believe that the research on medicinal plants had really been hers.
“Are you all right?” a quiet voice asked, snapping Aurora back to reality. It was Lord Winters who had asked, his brows creased in concern.
I'm fine,she mouthed, and even offered a weary smile.
And so the meeting went on, with each man taking turns to tell about what discoveries the last year had held. Even Father had his turn, although he didn't say much except that his work on the Duke's garden was going well, and he hoped to plant some rare flowers once the season was right.
There was a murmur of discontent around the table.Flowers,they scoffed — or at least in Aurora's mind they did. They all spoke of poisons and medicines as if they were the only worthwhile thing, instead of taking time to admire the flowers as they were.
Not long after, the meeting adjourned. Aurora was the first out of her seat, eager for fresh air and sunshine. The room got terribly stuffy sometimes, as the windows didn't open and the door was always shut.
Soon enough she was standing on the steps outside of the museum, taking in great big gulps of fresh air. It was a cool morning, the sunshine filtering weakly through fluffy white clouds.