The Botanist’s Daughter

by Kayte Nunn

  ‘Oh, now I do feel so terribly selfish to be going away and leaving you at such a time,’ said Elizabeth, a sorrowful expression marring her features.

  Georgiana shook her head. ‘Do not worry yourself. Robert has promised me that I will receive the best possible care. If necessary, he says, we shall reside in London in the months before the birth, so as to be near the finest physicians. And in the meantime I shall be kept busy piously sewing for the poor and seeing to the running of this house,’ she said with the barest of winks.

  ‘It is true, Robert does look after you well. I am glad that you will be in safe hands,’ replied Elizabeth. ‘Now, if you can bear it, do you think you can help me begin to plan for my journey? I am overwhelmed by what I might need; the sheer amount of it. I don’t quite know where to begin and I know you used to help father pack for his trips.’

  ‘Of course. We might use several of his trunks. I will ask Bingley to have them brought up to your dressing room. What did you order in town today?’

  Georgiana thought of everything that would be needed on a lengthy voyage, from parasols to keep the harsh South American sun off Elizabeth’s fair complexion, to smelling salts and a small flask of brandy – ‘Absolutely essential, according to Papa,’ Georgiana insisted. They were disturbed in their planning by the entrance of Robert, who had arrived back at the house after a tour of the estate. He was still wearing his riding breeches and tall leather boots that reached to his knees. Elizabeth looked at them longingly – how much easier her ride of the previous day would have been had she been able to wear trousers and boots.

  ‘You’re back in time for tea, my dear,’ said Georgiana. ‘No doubt you are thirsty and hungry.’

  ‘’Tis hot work, that is true,’ said Robert. ‘And I shall be glad of a cup.’ He looked at his wife, and Elizabeth felt almost an intruder seeing the tender glance that flew between them. ‘How are you feeling this afternoon, my dear?’

  ‘Much better, thank you. Now before you have time to disapprove, I have shared our good news with Elizabeth.’

  He frowned.

  ‘She is my sister, after all,’ Georgiana continued, bestowing on him a persuasive smile.

  ‘Yes, it is wonderful news,’ added Elizabeth quickly.

  ‘It is indeed,’ he said. ‘We are most blessed. But pray what else were you discussing so animatedly as I arrived? I am sure I heard talk of gowns and a new cloak?’ he said teasingly, apparently appeased by his wife.

  ‘Actually, my darling, Elizabeth and I were planning her wardrobe for the journey she is about to make,’ said Georgiana.

  Robert raised his eyebrows, a frown forming. ‘I thought we had discussed that last night and there was no question of her undertaking such a perilous expedition. Am I to believe that my views are to be completely disregarded? I will not be outvoted, even by two sisters. I am the man of the house now, do not forget. I am responsible for you both.’

  ‘Hush now, we’ll talk more of this later,’ said Georgiana, offering him a cup of tea. ‘Do sit and tell us of your findings today.’

  Robert’s frown did not leave his face. ‘I will not quarrel with you, dearest Georgiana, for I have no desire to upset you, especially in your delicate condition. But you,’ he paused, looking at Elizabeth. ‘You and I must discuss this matter further.’

  ‘Really, Robert, there is nothing that you have to say to my sister that I cannot hear also. I am not that delicate,’ insisted Georgiana.

  ‘I have no wish to quarrel either, Robert,’ said Elizabeth, ‘But as I am of age, I am perfectly able to make up my own mind on the matter. And made up it is. I am afraid that I doubt anything you have to say to me will convince me otherwise, try as you might. I know you act purely out of concern, but do not fear. I am a capable woman.’ She gave him a bold stare, daring him to disagree with her further.

  Chapter Ten

  SYDNEY, AUTUMN 2017

  The sound of a frog’s throaty croak woke Anna. That would be Vanessa, the ring tone courtesy of her niece Jasmine. ‘Well, then?’ her sister was impatient when Anna eventually answered the phone. ‘Did it work? Did you manage to get it open?’

  Anna lay back against her pillows, looking at her bedroom window and noting that the sun was barely lighting the sky. ‘Vanessa!’ she was indignant. ‘It’s Sunday morning! And it’s the arse crack of dawn,’ she grumbled as she checked the time, neatly avoiding answering her sister’s question.

  ‘Oh I know, but you’re always up so early every other morning …’ Her sister’s voice was unapologetic. ‘Anyway, I’ve been up since sparrow’s with Fleur. No matter what I try I can’t get her to sleep past five am. It’s cruel. No, it’s beyond cruel, it’s a particular form of torture. Tell me again why I wanted kids?’

  ‘Mm,’ said Anna tiredly. There went her only chance of a lie-in for another seven days. Last night, after finishing her meal and driving back to her flat she had pottered on her small balcony, tending her plants, watering and weeding. She had stayed up to watch a late-night thriller and was then unable to get to sleep. Visions of the book she’d found and its extraordinary contents kept running through her mind like an old-fashioned zoetrope, insistently flickering. She’d had a dream of a triffid-like plant growing up around her flat, imprisoning her with its thick, green tentacles, and she had woken feeling unsettled. ‘Anyway, who told you about the box?’ Anna asked, knowing full well the answer.

  ‘Mum did, of course. She rang me yesterday afternoon. Couldn’t wait to tell me the whole story. I have to say, it sounds very mysterious, doesn’t it? A bit like Pandora’s box, if you ask me. Mum said something about it being heavy enough to be full of gold bars.’

  Anna groaned inwardly at the inevitable interference that would come from her sister or, more likely, Harvey.

  ‘So? Did you have to go to the locksmith?’

  Anna was torn between telling her sister the truth, or lying and keeping her find to herself, for at least the time being. The fewer people involved the better. But Vanessa was her sister. She dithered. ‘Um, not really … but a visit to the hardware store was successful.’

  ‘Ooh! I knew you’d be able to open it. You always were the practical one. Come on then, spill. What was in it? Gold? Jewels? Love letters?’ she asked, an excited note in her voice. ‘Do you think Granny Gus had a secret lover?’

  ‘No, nothing like that, I’m afraid. I think it predates Granny Gus by at least thirty years.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘There are dates,’ said Anna, cryptically, enjoying keeping her sister on tenterhooks.

  ‘Right.’ Her sister’s tone was firm. ‘That’s it. I’m coming over. Give me half an hour to sort out the rabble. Harvey!’ she yelled and Anna was forced to hold the phone away from her ear. ‘Harvey! Something’s come up. With Anna.’ There was a muffled sound and a pause. ‘Yes, really.’ Her sister hung up the phone.

  Great, thought Anna, sinking back onto her pillow, at least now I know how I’m going to spend my Sunday morning.

  Sunday was Anna’s least favourite day of the week. On weekdays, as soon as she woke she did a mental run-through of her clients, deciding which needed attention and what was on her slate for the day. Then she was out of bed and in the shower before she knew it. On Saturdays she could keep busy, going to the gym, catching up on groceries and laundry and even doing a bit of bookkeeping. But Sundays were empty and endless. Interminable blank hours. More often than not on the day that most people looked forward to, she woke with dread like an ache in the pit of her stomach.

  It had been a Sunday when she’d last seen Simon. In those days Sundays felt like they had been dusted with gold. Lazy mornings, breakfast out, a walk or a visit to a garden, a drive out of the city, the occasional weekend away, beachcombing or hiking. Glasses of red wine and log fires and the comfort of being in the arms of someone you loved and who loved you just as much.

  Anna threw back the covers and resolved, for what seemed like the trillionth time, to stop w
allowing. She shivered a little in the cool late autumn morning as the breeze from the open window tickled her bare legs. Without hesitating, she headed for the shower.

  Vanessa arrived an hour later in a flurry, carrying a tray of coffee and a white paper bag in one hand, her keys in the other. ‘The least I could do, given I woke you up,’ she said waving the bag in front of Anna with an apologetic smile. The scent of warm bread filled the small flat.

  ‘If it’s bagels, you’re forgiven,’ Anna said grudgingly.

  ‘With salmon and cream cheese,’ Vanessa replied.

  ‘There had better be dill. And onion.’

  They took their breakfast out onto Anna’s sunny balcony. The rear of her apartment looked out over a large park, which was the main reason Anna had bought it. She’d ignored the fact that it wasn’t even big enough to swing a cat, and seen past the dated bathroom and the dodgy carpet to the green, green view and had known that it was perfect.

  Vanessa looked around at the plants that tumbled over each other along the railing, and inhaled the scent of orange jessamine that perfumed the air. She glanced over to the far wall, which was entirely green, a vertical garden with thriving mint, thyme, parsley and chives. ‘God, Anna,’ she said enviously, ‘I don’t know how you do it. I can’t even keep a cactus alive. I’m wanted for herbicide in three states.’

  ‘It’s not that hard, really,’ Anna laughed. ‘You just need a good fertiliser. The stables over at the park do me a deal on manure. Anyway, you’re busy growing your own three flowers and not doing such a bad job there.’

  Vanessa rolled her eyes at her sister’s corny comment and wrinkled her nose, sniffing as if she could smell the manure, then sat at one end of the bench that faced the view. Anna sat beside her and leant back against the wall, placing the bagels between them.

  ‘Remember when we used to spend every Sunday together? Before Harvey. Before Simon.’ Vanessa lifted her face to the sun, closing her eyes against its glare. ‘I kind of miss those days.’

  ‘Yeah. How about that time we got the bus to Bondi Beach and then you nearly lost me in the rip?’

  Vanessa laughed and looked shamefaced. ‘You’ve never forgotten that, huh?’

  ‘Nope. The look on your face as the lifeguard hauled me out of the water.’ Anna chuckled. ‘You were absolutely furious with me, but you couldn’t yell at me, not with everyone watching, especially the lifeguard.’

  ‘Well, he was pretty cute. We never told Mum, did we?’

  ‘No sense in worrying her. Besides, she might not have let us go again.’

  ‘True,’ she smiled and turned to look at her sister. ‘What happened, Anna?’

  ‘Life happened, Ness.’

  Her sister took a bite of the bagel. ‘Are you going to let me in on the secret?’

  Anna’s heart stuttered. She gulped, then recovered herself. The box. That’s what Vanessa meant. ‘Well, it’s all very strange. Fancy there being such a thing hidden away like that for so long? It’s as if someone didn’t want it found. It’s beautiful.’

  ‘Okay, let’s see this mysterious beautiful box, then.’

  ‘Can I finish my bagel first? We’ll have to go back inside. I’d hate it if anything blew away out here,’ Anna chewed hungrily. ‘What’s in it is pretty fragile.’

  ‘Ooh, now I’m really curious. Come on. Where is it?’ Vanessa crumpled up the empty paper bag and grabbed their coffee cups, heading inside to the kitchen. Anna followed, swallowing the last of her breakfast and detouring to her bedroom.

  The sketchbook sat where she’d left it in the box on the floor, illuminated in a shaft of sunlight, and as Anna looked at it she had a sudden premonition, a feeling of apprehension. Exactly what had she discovered? What changes would this bring to her carefully ordered life?

  ‘Bloody hell!’ Vanessa was as entranced as Anna had been the night before. ‘This is incredible. Look at the detail!’ she exclaimed, marvelling at the intricate etching, tracing her finger over the box’s surface. ‘Extraordinary.’

  Anna pushed off the lid and retrieved the sketchbook, placing it on the table in front of them. Vanessa slowly turned page after page of the drawings. ‘Oh, look at the dates,’ she said. ‘April … May … June 1887. That’s, what …’

  ‘Nearly a hundred and thirty years ago.’

  Vanessa exhaled a long, low whistle. ‘And it’s been hidden away this whole time, do you think?’

  ‘Well, Granny Gus was born in 1918, so it predates her by thirty-odd years.’

  ‘I wonder how it got there, and whose work it is? Do you reckon it’s worth anything?’

  That the sketchbook might be of value hadn’t crossed Anna’s mind. She’d been more interested in who the mysterious E was, and what the story behind it might be. ‘Does that matter?’

  ‘I suppose not,’ said Vanessa. ‘I guess it belongs to you now.’

  ‘I’m not so sure …’

  ‘Well, who else would it belong to?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I’m going to try to find out.’

  ‘It’s certainly stunning. Even the inside of the box is beautiful.’ Vanessa stroked the worn velvet lining. ‘Hang on a sec …’ She ran her fingers over the lining again and Anna could see that she’d found a small loop of ribbon at one end on the bottom, something Anna hadn’t noticed. Vanessa tugged on the ribbon and the base of the box came away, revealing a hidden compartment beneath.

  The two sat in stunned silence as they contemplated what lay there.

  Chapter Eleven

  LIVERPOOL DOCKS, 1886

  Elizabeth couldn’t help but let out a small squeal of excitement as she caught the first glimpse of four tall masts, their sails reefed, and a monstrous iron hull looming above the dock. It was a sight to behold. The ship was tethered to the land by means of thickly knotted ropes, but they looked flimsy in comparison to its huge size. ‘Look, Daisy, there she is, the Corcovado, one of the finest windjammers to sail the high seas!’

  The maid looked as nervous as Elizabeth was excited, her skin even paler than usual as they peered out the window of the hired brougham. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ she replied, clutching her valise tightly across her lap, ‘a most impressive sight indeed.’ All around them was a flurry of activity the like of which neither of them had ever encountered. Mountains of goods sat on the dockside waiting to be loaded into the ship’s hold, and porters shouted instructions to each other as they wheeled handcarts about the dock, weaving in and out of the stacks of crates. Families bade tearful farewells to loved ones. It was so noisy and chaotic Elizabeth could barely take it all in: the very sight of so many people and things in one place made her giddy.

  It had taken them several days to make the long journey from Cornwall to the northeast of the country, stopping in London for a night (where Elizabeth took advantage of their stay and arranged for a final delivery of paints and brushes). Travelling with Helyer, the footman who was also Daisy’s eldest brother, as chaperone, they had departed Euston (Elizabeth in the First Class carriage) and then billeted overnight in the bustling port town. In her excitement to be away, she had barely slept a wink, and was up before dawn to reach the ship with plenty of time before their afternoon departure. This was the furthest Elizabeth had ever travelled in her life, and she hadn’t even left England yet. She reminded herself that this was the least of what she was likely to experience in the months to come, but her excitement did not fade.

  Now she could actually see the ship, at nearly four thousand tons one of the Pacific Steam Navigation Company’s finest vessels, she could not wait to set sail.

  ‘Steady there, miss,’ said the footman as he helped her down from the carriage.

  ‘Thank you, Helyer,’ she replied, leaning against his arm as she was jostled by the press of people on the Prince’s Landing Stage.

  ‘I shall see to the trunks,’ he said once she was safely on the dockside, ‘while Daisy and yourself make your way to the terminal.’ He pointed to a long, low building at the far end of th
e wooden wharf before climbing up to the roof of the carriage to retrieve the many trunks that Georgiana had deemed necessary for the voyage.

  Packed carefully in one of the trunks was a metal box, similar in form to a jewellery casket, but rather larger in size. It had been presented to Elizabeth by her father shortly before he became ill and it was made by the same firm that had cast the sundial at Trebithick. It featured similar embossing work of curlicued herbs and flowers and in the centre of the lid was a stylised ‘E’ surrounded by flowers and birds. ‘Oh!’ cried Elizabeth when she had first seen it. ‘Papa, it is beautiful!’

  ‘Well, my dear, you should have somewhere safe to store your drawings.’

  ‘Oh, I adore it!’ she said, lifting a latch to reveal a lining of plush midnight blue velvet trimmed with dark sateen ribbon.

  ‘There is a lock here, too,’ he said fumbling on the credenza and presenting her with a small but solid-looking heart-shaped lock and key. ‘And it is airtight. Seals completely. Best way to keep your materials free of damp.’

  At the time Elizabeth had wondered why her drawings might need to be so secured, but all became clear once her father had entrusted her with his mission. He had also presented her with several thin glass plates. ‘For the drying of seeds,’ he had explained.