As they were the only customers, it didn't take long for their tarts and scones to be readied. They were carefully wrapped in wax paper to keep them fresh, before the baker handed them to Aurora.
She paid, bid her thanks, and left with Father close behind.
When Aurora was little, they used to eat apple tarts in the park or their own garden and watch the clouds. It had been one of Aurora's favorite past times, especially in spring when the sun wasn't so glaringly bright, and the clouds were extra soft-looking.
Nowadays, Father hardly had time for it. It had been years since he'd sat in the garden and just admired it, instead of kneeling in the dirt working on another project. She admired his work ethic, but sometimes Aurora missed those lazy afternoons where they did nothing at all.
"We should get home before the entire evening is gone," Father stated with a smile. "A cup of tea and those tarts, and then I have work to do in the study."
Aurora's brows creased. "What kind of work?"
"Well, I would like to rewrite today's notes in my proper journal, in a nicer script. Then, I suppose I should write to those who didn't make today's meeting and ask if they would like an update on what they missed."
Aurora tried not to scowl, she really did. Her lips tugged down anyway.
"Can't somebody else do it? Besides, if anybody missed the meeting then they can't have been all that bothered."
"Not everybody has the luxury of being as close to the museum as we are," Father said coolly, "and not everybody can rely on taking days off for travelling."
It was that tone of voice that saidend of discussion,and so Aurora dropped it. If it were anyone else, she might have argued; but not with Father. He was stressed enough, without her adding to it.
Yet she couldn't help but ask, "We will get our greenhouse though, won't we?"
To which he replied, "Of course. You know I can't turn down an interesting new project. I'll contact Elmore immediately."
The thought of Lord Winters being involved in her project made Aurora’s stomach stir, but not entirely out of disgust.
It was something that she wasn’t willing to think too deeply about, not yet, but it left a little tug of reluctant warmth in her chest.
Chapter 9
Elmore Winters
I invite you to my home for a private meeting, held on the twenty-first of August at two-thirty. Aurora brought to my attention a fantastic idea that I would like to discuss, and believe that you could be of great help.
It had been a short letter, a simple one. Yet when he received it at his London house two days after the botanists' meeting, Elmore was intrigued. What, exactly, did Mr. Washam need from him?
He was set to return home to Gloucestershire at the end of the week, but decided to stay an extra day so that he could attend this private meeting. It had been a long time since he had spoken with Mr. Washam in person, and he had to admit that he missed it greatly.
The days of his mentorship were over, but Elmore still longed for those simpler, calmer days.
Now, just before half-past two in the afternoon, Elmore was back in Mr. Washam's familiar garden. So much had changed since he had visited as a younger man; the lavender lining the path was new, but the breeze brought that lovely, fresh scent rushing to his nose.
All in all, it was an improvement on the garden he remembered. Over the years, Mr. Washam must have refined his style and found new flowers to display.
As he strode towards the house, past rows and rows of lavender, Elmore found his mind drifting to Aurora. She was an attractive young woman, with soft blonde curls and a slender face. She had no interest in him, she had made thatexceptionallyclear, but perhaps he would glimpse Aurora and have the chance to say hello.
If not, then he could certainly try to find an excuse to do so.
So lost in his own thoughts, Elmore had almost reached the front entrance before he heard his name being called. With a jolt, he turned — and oh, there was Mr. Washam.
Brushing dirt from his knees, Mr. Washam ambled closer. He looked as if he had been busy pruning flowers, his hands red from clenching a pair of pruning shears.
"You're early," Mr. Washam said with a sigh, "or have I lost track of time again?"
A quick glance at his pocket watch confirmed that it was two twenty-three. Elmore was hardly early at all.
"Well, never mind. Please do excuse how I look, I've been in the garden all afternoon."