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FOULMIRE PRIORY, SUSSEX, SUMMER 1687
“When I was a girl,” Alinor told Mia, Gabrielle, and Hester, “we believed that if you picked a rose on Midsummer Eve, it would stay fresh and blooming till Christmas Eve.”
The girls were in the stillroom, a tray of beeswax before them, putting honeysuckle flowers facedown into the wax to drain the perfume;the heady smell filled the room. Matthew was at the stone sink, carefully washing the flowers and putting them to dry on muslin.
“And did it?” Gabrielle asked.
Mia made a face at her. “Of course not.”
Alinor smiled. “I never picked a rose on Midsummer Eve,” she admitted, “so I don’t know.”
“Why not?” Hester asked.
“I didn’t have a rose garden then,” she said. “And I was too busy to pick roses from the hedgerows. But we could do it this year and see.”
“What other things can you do for midsummer?” Gabrielle asked.
“It’s a lot about love,” Alinor cautioned them. “So of no interest to serious girls like you.”
“Should I leave?” Matthew asked, looking up from the sink full of flowers.
“No, stay,” said Hester.
“I have no time for love,” Gabrielle told them.
“Nor I,” said Mia immediately.
“Mama says that she will decide all about it,” Hester said. “And it is indelicate for a young lady to ask. But do tell us, Grandmother!”
Alinor laughed. “My, you make me feel old!” She moved the full tray to the rack and put out another for them to put clean flowerheads into wax. “If you pick St. John’s wort and put it under your pillow without telling anyone, picking it in the morning of Midsummer Eve with the dew on it, picking it in secret, then that night you will dream of the man you will marry.”
“St. John’s wort? Do you grow it?” Hester asked.
“Little yellow flower, in the herb garden,” Gabrielle told her shortly. “Is it all love potions for girls?”
“Young men can conjure their sweethearts too,” Alinor offered.
The girls turned to Matthew. “Say you’ll try!” Mia urged him.
“What does he have to do?” Gabrielle asked.
“He has to go to the herb garden before the clock strikes twelve on Midsummer Eve,” Alinor said.
“Oh no, I would be too afraid,” Matthew told them, drying his hands. “I wouldn’t dare.”
“Then he has to pick a leaf of sage for each tolling of the bell.”
Matthew rolled his eyes in a parody of terror.
Alinor laughed at him. “And then when he picks the last leaf at the last bell he turns around and his future lover is standing behind him.”
“A ghost?” Matthew quavered.
“A vision, or even the real woman.”
“Terrifying!”
“No, but really, I don’t think you should do that,” Hester cautioned him. “Because it would be too easy for someone to creep up on you—”
