Chapter 11
Elmore Winters
Mr. Russo,
I apologize that it has taken me so long to write, as I promised I would. Life in England can be hectic, and time has a habit of slipping away from me.
How have you been? The last we spoke, you were thinking of visiting France — I’m sure that you will have a wonderful time, as France is always lovely no matter the time of year.
I confess that I have a reason for writing you, and I hope I don’t appear rude as a result. A good friend of mine from London is in need of assistance. He and his daughter wish to grow exotic and poisonous plants in their garden, and I am hoping that you would be willing to help. Do you have cuttings or seedlings that you would be willing to send?
The daughter, Miss Washam, cares most for the angel's trumpet and I would love to present her with the finest samples available. I know that you have grown your own in the past, the beautiful pink variety, and I think she would enjoy that the most.
Also, if you have any more information on the healing properties of such plants, I would be very interested in hearing all about it. My trip to Italy was too brief for a full understanding, and I'm afraid that my Italian is not yet good enough to read through any botany books.
Any and all help would be wonderful.
Sincerely,
Lord Winters, Earl of Glouchestershire.
Elmore leaned back in his chair and gave a satisfied sigh. This was only one letter of five or six; each addressed to a different botanist he had met in Italy. Mr. Russo was perhaps the man he had the highest hopes for — it was from his garden that Elmore had taken inspiration for many of his drawings.
Carefully, he slipped a crisp envelope from his desk and slipped the letter inside. He used only the best parchment, the same kind his father used to use. Whatever they used to think of each other, his father had an eye for quality.
With that done, Elmore added Mr. Russo's letter to the pile. Then he bundled them all under one arm, and carried them downstairs.
It was quicker to wait until he returned home to actually send the letters; London was busy, and there weremillionsof letters going out each day. He wondered how the poor delivery boys kept up. Back home, the mail system was much more relaxed. Besides, Elmore was sure that he could think of a few more people to write to, although none were as promising as Mr. Russo.
He had to warn Mr. Washam, however, how expensive an undertaking this could be. Money was no object for him, not only because he was an earl, but because his father had always been a frugal man. Yet for Mr. Washam and Aurora...well, he didn't know the average earnings of a Duke's gardener, but this could prove to cost much more than anybody realized.
Then there was another matter...of bringing this to the attention of the Duke and Duchess. Who was to say they would approve of having poisonous plants brought into their district? Who was to say they would allow Mr. Washam, head of the botanical gardens and their own grounds, to handle such dangerous plants?
It was something to address when he visited tomorrow. For now, he tucked the letters somewhere safe, in the little chest in the foyer where all of his letters went. Then, he turned his attention to outside.
His own garden could have benefitted from some lovely Italian flowers, he thought. Not poisonous ones, of course, but something bright and exotic to liven up the place a bit. He wasn't here often enough to attend to the garden himself, and the gardener did only the bare minimum to keep it nice.
Elmore had always been partial to bright pink oleanders...he wondered, what did Aurora think of them? She would have loved Italy, he decided; not just for the wildlife, but for the art. The food, too; Italy had a host of delicious food that Elmore had never even heard of before his visit, and he imagined Aurora trying it with a smile on her face.
Yes, she struck him as the adventurous type. The type to enjoy new foods and visiting unusual places, anything for a chance to learn. It was the biggest reason why he had come to admire her, in their short time knowing each other.
Oh, but she hardly even put up with his presence. It was a shame, one that made his heart ache for her. What had he done to deserve her scorn?
Well, it was a matter for later; he couldn't do anything about Aurora's distaste, or her reluctance to work with him. However, hecouldmake their lives easier and contact the Duke on their behalf; while he and Elmore were hardly friends, their plan sounded more viable coming from the quill of an earl.
Back upstairs he wandered, before settling back behind his desk again. The study was nowhere near as beautiful as the one back home, but it was adequate. The room was spacious, as was the oak desk he sat at now. It was always well stocked, even though Elmore didn't visit as often as he used to.
All in all, it was a fine place to write.
My Lord Duke,
I am writing to you on the topic of transporting botanist's samples from Italy to London, on behalf of my good friend Anthony Washam, your head gardener. I am sure you’re aware that he is also a brilliant, licensed botanist, as well as a fantastic gardener.
We wish to transport samples of angel's trumpet and other poisonous plants, so that Mr. Washam might start his own greenhouse and grow them for medicinal purposes. Of course, we would not do this without first your permission, as these plants are not native to England, and we do not wish to offend you by bringing them here.
We will take every precautionto ensure they get here safely, and nobody will be harmed in the process. These plants, as I said, will be for medicinal and private use. The angel's trumpet plant is useful in alleviating headaches and symptoms of arthritis, and other age-related ailments.
Mr. Washam and I will grow it in his greenhouse, experimenting with different strains and kinds of plant, in the hopes of growing something that is beneficial to health without the unfortunate side effects.