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She squeezed his arm three times. “Come. Let us go discover if the waterlilies make noise.”
He laughed. “I scarcely finished stating that we cannot control nature, only to be reminded that we’re here to visit a newfangled building where man is attempting to do just that. Come, let us see what wonders have made their way to England.”
They entered the conservatory, much larger than Lady Clara’s orangery.Oh, what would Thomas make of this, I wonder?
In the center of the warm building was a pond whose surface covered in huge, bright green saucers. Molly blinked, distrusting her eyes—some of the lily pads were ten feet wide!
“TheVictoria regia,” Frederick said in a quiet, wonder struck voice. Named after Queen Victoria, the species had just been brought to Britain from South America.
Despite the fine day, it was late in the season, and the crowds were refreshingly modest in size. Molly breathed in slowly as they made their way along the circular path around the pond, the warm air humid and unlike any she’d ever smelled. It smelled…fertile. Almost sweet, like blooms. Exotic.
Ferns, vines, and tall tropical plants she couldn’t identify grew all around the perimeter of the square structure. Leaves in every shade of green grew, some so dark they were almost purple, yet others tinged in red. She forced her eyes back to the enormous lily pads in the pond. Raised rims ran all along their circumference.
“They say they’re strong enough to support a small child.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh! Yes—look at its structure. It’s ribbed!” She squinted, taking in the reddish-purple lines visible beyond the green.
They slowly made their way around the pond, stopping opposite the entrance to the Waterlily House to marvel. After spending all her life in Shropshire, Molly had traveled to London a decade ago, a distance of under two hundred miles—a distance as great as she could have imagined. Here she was, gazing upon plants whose seeds came from thousands of miles away.
Outside of the protection of this hothouse, the waterlilies would die in England, just as she couldn’t survive this existence without her threes and the other protections she’d learned. She smiled at the closest lily pad. Granted, these aquatic plants were prized as exotic not eccentric—but what was the difference?
No one would flock to watch her organize Lady Clara’s bottles three times in a row, not like the crowds here to see these strange, beautiful plants float in a glass house. All her life, she’d thought she simply wanted to be left alone in her queerness—she certainly didn’t want crowds to surround her!
But to welcome Frederick instead of pushing him away, to believe that he could embrace her peculiarities along with the rest of her and delight in her, in them…
Thank you, Lady Clara.Immense gratitude washed over her as they finished their visit to the Waterlily House. It had broken Molly’s heart to be left behind by her ladyship, but the turn of events hadn’t only been the end of her life as she’d known it. It opened new possibilities she couldn’t have experienced working daily from before dawn until late at night as a lady’s maid. Here she was on a glorious Saturday afternoon!
Would she have even considered shunning her duties if Lady Clara hadn’t insisted on this new role? That was doubtful.
Molly gasped as they exited the conservatory, turning to Frederick with a horrified expression. “We forgot to speak of Mr. Mendelssohn!”
He cocked his head. “I beg your pardon?”
“Lady Clara charged me with discussing Mr. Mendelssohn with you during this outing!”
“Ah, I see.” Offering his elbow again, he smiled winsomely. “It is not too late, miss, to salvage the fulfilling of that duty. Why Mr. Mendelssohn? Do you know?”
“She said I should ask you!”
He chuckled. “Very well. Hmm. Rather curious because I don’t know Lady Clara to favor his works greatly. Her musicianship is inclined to more…provocative work.”
“She did indicate some interest in acquiring certain scores of his. But more for the library rather than to perform, perhaps.”
Frederick nodded and looked back at the building. “She may have been thinking of hisLieder ohne Worte.”
“Hiswhat?”
He laughed, and they resumed walking. “HisSongs Without Words. Yes, it’s a pleasant thought to imagine those works whilst visiting the Waterlily House. That is my interpretation as to her reason for today’s discussion.”
Molly smiled wryly. “Secondary to giving us a subject should we lack one.”
He chuckled. “You know her best, so I leave it to you to determine her true motivations on that account.”
“Will you repeat the names of those works in German again?” After he did so, she asked about his family.
“My grandfather came from Saxony. He was a piano maker who fled to England during the Seven Years War. Father was born in England but spent a number of years in Leipzig for his apprenticeship. He met Mother there, and she always spoke in German with us. Enough that I, too, apprenticed in Leipzig for a time.”
“Did you consider staying there?”
