Through the rose gardens, Aurora walked past rows and rows of brightly colored flowers, until she reached the last lattice and popped out at the other side.
The scent of roses was still strong; but as the stranger said, not overpowering. Although Father was undecided on color, he knew exactly what scent he favored; apparently, it was based on an old perfume of her mother's. Unfortunately, the perfume was no longer made, and the last bottle used, so Aurora had never had the chance to smell it.
Maybe, if Father was close, she'd have that chance in the future. A little more to connect her with a mother she'd never met.
Another bee fluttered past, as they walked. They loved the roses most of all, except perhaps for the lavender, and she lost count of how many bees she spotted now.
“You might have a hive nearby,” the stranger said now. She still hadn't asked his name, and truthfully didn't want to. “There are a lot more than I'd expect. Your father isn't a beekeeper too, by chance?”
“No,” Aurora answered, “no beekeepers here, only botanists. Although, we do try to grow varieties of flowers that attract bees, since they're so important to pollination and such.”
“Oh, you seem to know quite a bit about gardening.”
So when it was Father, he was a botanist; but she was only a gardener? It would have been insulting, had it not been so predictable at this point. He hadn't even considered the idea that she was also a botanist, or at least an aspiring one who knew almost as much as her father did.
Well, who cared? She didn't need his approval; it was simply irritating how he kept condescending her, even though Aurora had the feeling he had no clue that's what he was actually doing. Some men were just oblivious to the effect they had on others, for good or for bad.
“Anyway,” he continued now, before Aurora could cut in and say they were nearly at the house. He must have been able to see it, the house was large and tall, with lovely arched windows. Yet he hardly noticed as he continued, “it's good, what you and your father do here. I saw his name in an article on botany recently. His name was alongside a...Mr. Buckley?”
“A man who did a quarter of the work and took half the credit,” Aurora replied sourly, “but yes-”
She didn't have the chance to finish, because as Aurora threw out a hand in frustration, a sharp and sudden pain erupted in h her wrist. It was enough to make her squeak and stumble back, eyes wide in surprise.
There was a red mark at the edge of her wrist, just where her sleeve ended. Already, it was starting to burn.
A bee sting,justwhat she needed!
Chapter 5
Elmore Winter
The moment Aurora yelped, Elmore rushed to her side. Already, redness was spreading across her pale wrist. At least she didn't appear to have had an allergic reaction, otherwise things could have quickly become serious; but it was still a somewhat harsher shade of red than he liked.
“Let me help,” he insisted with a smile, “do you have lamb's ear or parsley? It's good for soothing the sting.”
Aurora looked up at him with narrowed eyes, but they were such a lovely shade of grass-green that he hardly even noticed her glare. Elmore had never seen eyes so bright, with little flecks of blue near the middle of the iris. They were truly unique.
He only tuned in again when her voice reached his ears. “I'm fine,” she said with a sigh, “I've had worse injuries in this garden, usually from falls. A bee sting won't kill me.”
“No, but I don't like how red the sting is. It must be because the skin is so thin there.”
Aurora gave him a long-suffering look, one that saidlet it go.If she was Mr. Washam's daughter, then she must have known a little though — including how important it was to treat animal stings or bites of any kind.
“Let me help,” he insisted. Elmore was nothing if not stubborn, and he wasn't going to let her turn down his help over something as silly as her pride. “Now, the lamb's ear?”
She gave in with surprisingly little prompting, leading him to a small patch of lamb's ear nestled between several herbs. It wasn't much, but they only needed a few leaves for this purpose.
Carefully, Elmore pulled off three leaves, avoiding damage to the rest of the plant. It didn't do to pull off leaves without need, but this was a special circumstance.
“Take a seat on this bench here, let me wrap your wrist-”
“That's a little much, don't you think?”
“Better to be over-careful, than not cautious enough.”
She didn't have a reply to that, and fell silent while Elmore worked. She winced when he pulled out the stinger from her tender skin, but didn't make a sound.
“I hate to think that bees die once they use their stinger,” she muttered finally, as Elmore made a makeshift bandage our of leaves. “It must have only stung me because I was flailing my hand about, and the poor thing panicked.”