“TO SEE A WORLD IN A GRAIN OF SAND AND A HEAVEN IN A WILD FLOWER.”
(WILLIAM BLAKE, AUGURIES OF INNOCENCE)
“Is Mr Darcy in there with you?”
Within the morn light of the top-floor art studio, Verity and her cousin glanced at one another before both turned to the ajar door and Aunt’s grey eyes peering hither and thither.
“Chance would be a fine thing,” said Sephi with a snigger, tucking her feet up on the sofa.
Aunt tutted. “He keeps wetting the bed.”
“Then again…” Verity put aside her brushes and unfastened her painting smock. “I thought Darcy had gone to the gatekeeper at St James’s Park.”
“He has. This is the second Darcy. Haughty with blue eyes.”
Verity folded her arms. “Another cat?”
With a wide smile, Aunt Theo sloped around the door, eyelashes batting like a debutante at Almack’s. “There was really no choice. I found him lurking under a fine carriage on Bond Street, glaring. He was so thin but, I think, too proud to beg.Clearly used to the finer things in life, I tempted him out with some Fortnum and Mason smoked salmon.”
No wonder there’d been none for supper last night.
“Poor Darcy. But wetting the bed is a cause for concern, surely?”
“Oh no, it’s mere male posturing and laying claim.”
Sephi shuddered upon the sofa.
“Oh, and this came for you, my darling Verity. If you ask me, it looks like a present from an admirer,” A box tied with silver ribbon was placed upon her art desk before Aunt crossed the room to make herself comfortable aside Sephi.
With more than a little curiosity, Verity lifted the box, turning it this way and that, but found no note affixed.
“I wager it’s from Stonewold,” said Sephi with a grin.
Aunt nodded sagely. “I knew he wouldn’t mind our Verity being The Witness. Perhaps it’s some paintbrushes.”
With a frown, Verity replaced the oblong box to the desk. She’d told them both about Miles’ visit yesterday, disregarding the kiss which she now blamed entirely on overwrought emotions, but why would Miles gift her anything? “You’re not going to let me open this alone, are you?”
To the twin shakes of head, Verity sighed, pulled the bow, undid the ribbon and lifted the lid.
Damp tissue paper, followed by…
Oh my.
“Brushes?”
“No.” Verity blinked. “According to Linnaeus, anAmaranthus speciosusof theMonoecia Pentandriaclass.” Her lips trembled as she looked up to… Bafflement. “It’s a flower.”
“Thank goodness for that,” said Aunt, her brow smoothing. “I thought you’d sneezed!”
Sephi rose and peered at the flower laid upon tissue paper in the box. “Oh, that’s so pretty. Is it rare?”
“Not rare in its native habitat but difficult to grow in our climate. I read that Lady Hume raised one but it needed a hothouse to germinate as the seed had come from the East Indies. Miles…er, Lord Stonewold must have purchased it or he has a hothouse. Years ago, he used to…”
“Hmm?”
“Well… He used to call me his Amaranth, you see.” She caressed the long tassel of a flower. “It might be a different species to this, but in myth, ’tis a plant that never fades and never dies. It signifies something…eternal.”
“How romantic!” cried Aunt.
